The Last Detail

by Lisa J. Lickel

  She sat back from the table, watching the Campbell family interaction, praying silently, waiting, and learning to love Prudence’s thoughtfulness and dedication to her children. Merit, though obviously tired, perked up to respond to Lawrence, who obviously adored his uncle. No matter what happened next, she would be grateful to Merit for bringing Bunty. Amalia volleyed looks from brother to sister, gauging their reaction to each other. Pru’s eyes glowed. Tricia had taken on a little mother role with Bunty at dinner, helping with his napkin and cutting his meat. How would Tricia react when Marianne took Bunty away? Maybe she should talk to the girl first.

  But Prudence had arranged it earlier so that she and the kids would leave for home, first. Tricia exaggerated a long, long hug, making Amalia’s back creak. She had a huge smile for Bunty as she waved. “See, Bunty, I’m going home now. But I’ll see you again.” She giggled and skipped to the car, turning to beckon to Lawrence, who watched her with an open mouth.

  “We’ll call you on the telephone tonight, Aunt Amalia,” she said, making an ever-increasing demand for him to follow.

  Pru finally pushed Lawrence’s shoulders. “Well, Lawrence, it’s time. Shake Bunty’s hand. Wave good-bye.” They gave hugs, continued to promise to call or write or e-mail.

  Bunty smiled and waved and nodded while holding onto Amalia’s hand. Amalia winced inwardly, unsure how much he understood, that they were trying to make him see they weren’t sad.

  She and Bunty stood, shivering, on the sidewalk in front of Merit’s house, waving for a long time. Marianne went inside and came out again with Bunty’s duffle bag and a sack Prudence had packed with a few treats for the trip. Bunty’s hand tightened on hers when he saw Marianne return with his things. Breathe, Amalia. In and out. Slow and even. Smile, Amalia.

  “N-no,” Bunty said.

  “I love you.” Amalia knelt in front of Bunty. “You love me, too, don’t you?”

  Bunty nodded once, his dark eyes fastened on hers. He nodded again. “You come.”

  His little red jacket made a crinkling sound when she grabbed him in her arms. “Not this time, buddy. But, soon, I promise.”

  His whole body shook. She took his face in her hands and looked into his tear-filled eyes. “Marianne loves you, too, Bunty.” Amalia pulled back, her world shrunk to these three feet around her, kneeling in the swirling dried leaves of fall on the cold cement. “I will call you every night, like I always do.” She emphasized always. “At this time.” She pointed to the new Mickey Mouse watch they had picked out together. “When this hand is here, and this hand is here, and you see the picture of the moon.”

  “And you’ll see Amalia again, Bunty,” Marianne said. “I promise.”

  Amalia did not rise from her crouch when Merit plucked him away, his mouth open in a silent scream, and buckled him in Marianne’s car. Her car taillights glowed in a fuzzy halo. Amalia waved even though every part of her person ached. The memory of Bunty’s silent tears clinging to the length of eyelashes before rolling down his brown cheeks would haunt her. Cold hands touched her neck underneath her hair.

  “Amalia. Come. I’ll make tea for you.”

  Numbly, she followed Merit inside.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, which included a couple of welcome days in bed with the sniffles and slight fever and the tissue box, Amalia answered a call from Merit.

  “You’re sure you’re up for this?” he asked.

  Amalia spoke impatiently into the phone. “Of course, Merit. I told you already. I appreciate your concern, but this is part of my job. My cold is over. I’m fine. And I promised to help you with the missionary families. I know the Monroes are coming this afternoon. I’m ready to pick them up at the airport. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried that you might miss a detail.” Merit’s voice crackled in her ear. “I want you to know that I understand how you feel about Bunty.”

  “Like how you feel about Justice?” Amalia had not been able to talk privately with Merit over the last several days. His voice rippled across her eardrums, making her realize how much she missed him. Almost as much as Bunty. At least she spoke to the little boy nightly. Merit hadn’t talked to her for some time—not since she had called the office to confirm the flight of the incoming furloughed family last Monday. She had left two messages during the course of the week, one of which he returned by e-mail. The discussion about continuing the search for Justice was something she wanted. He plainly did not.

  She heard his sigh through the impersonal telephone connection. “Perhaps. But he’s a grown man who is able to make choices, unlike Bunty. I stopped by the house at lunch. You did a wonderful job decorating. Thank you. I’ll see you at home later tonight, then.”

  Amalia hung up, wondering what it would be like to make a real home with Merit. Maybe after Christmas she would screw on her courage and tell him how she felt about him. For now, she had work, and the dream of having Bunty. He loved Bunty, too, and would make the perfect father.

  She looked at the clock and calculated the time needed to get to the airport. About three hours before she’d have to leave to pick up the Monroes—father, mother, and three children. One child, she’d been told, they had adopted from the country and took a toll on patience. Another good reason to keep fragile items out of the guest suites at Merit’s house.

  Amalia wandered in to her home office. She would be changing this room into a bedroom for Bunty soon. The little den where her father kept the television could do double duty as her office. Her evening schedule would have to change. Most of her appointments could be scheduled during daytime hours. Being a parent involved a lot of sacrifice. Amalia grinned. This transformation of her life would be very welcome. Sacrifices didn’t always have to hurt, did they? So, what color should she paint the walls?

  As she backed her car out of her garage and pressed the button to close the door, Amalia went over her mental to-do list, ticking off her accomplishments. She and Merit had agreed earlier that, as part of making the families feel welcome, she would also take care of holiday decorating and stock the pantry.

  She had picked out a medium-sized Douglas fir and had it delivered, and used some of her own holiday trimmings to embellish it and Merit’s dining room chandelier. In the huge antique mall near LaSalle, Amalia discovered a beautiful antique crèche scene. She didn’t want to take the time to ask Merit how he felt about it, or she might lose out on the sale. She loved the carved and painted wooden figures and bought the set. She’d keep it if he nixed the idea. It looked comfortably at home on his mantel, almost as if it had been made to fit the space. Merit didn’t comment, and she didn’t ask, so the manger stayed.

  Hudson had assumed she would take care of the funeral home décor, as she had done all of her teenaged and adult life, and she’d done that for him earlier. They’d had three families scheduled for services this week. Amalia acted as hostess as usual. The holidays were stressful on the ill and elderly.

  What else did she have to make time for during the season? Amalia and Jordyn kept active in the Community Events Coordinators for Fox Falls. They both worked hard to help store owners put up the themed Christmas decorations, and scheduled two weekend caroling events. Detail, details. Amalia smiled to herself. Good planning made everything go smoothly, and she was detail-oriented, wasn’t she? Down to the last one.

  What else? Family. Amalia had purchased a few gifts for Bunty already. They had left the Thanksgiving visit books and computer programs at her house. A green velvet vest and bowtie in the window of the shop next to Charlotte’s shop caught her eye. He’d look so adorable dressed up for Christmas. She wouldn’t see him until that day.

  She turned into the airport parking lot and shut off the car. Not terrifyingly busy, like O’Hare. Amalia breathed a sigh of relief at the ease of finding the guests. Mr. Munroe had taken on a tan much better than his freckle-faced wife and two fair sons. Their daughter, AnnaMaria, resembled him in that respect. The rest of them must stick out like polar
bears in a jungle in Nicaragua.

  “Welcome. I’m Amalia,” she told them. “Let’s make sure we have all your luggage. Then I’ll take you to Pastor Campbell’s and help you settle in.”

  The family planned to stay for a month. Some of the time they would be off visiting sponsoring churches in Chicago and St. Louis. Amalia hired a brother and sister team from New Life Church to come in and cook and clean during the month. Both Reggie and Sarah Margriff were home on vacation from the university and delighted to pick up some extra cash. Sarah had a Spanish minor and wanted to practice. Merit had raised his brows when he learned that Reggie, not his sister, cooked.

  Amalia showed them their rooms at Merit’s house, and explained that they could take care of breakfast for themselves, but should make a note of any special dietary needs so that Reggie could make up menus. He would come and make lunch and supper while Sarah came to clean and run any errands for them. Amalia went over their schedule and duties carefully.

  The Monroes were nice people. Amalia thought they looked tired and ready for a break, although they would still have to travel to meet with their sponsors.

  “Thank you again,” Trudy Monroe said. “Everything is so lovely. Christmas is special everywhere in the world, but there’s no place like home.”

  Amalia nodded and buttoned her coat in preparation to leave. “Pastor Campbell should be here soon. I’m glad to have met you. Here’s my card. Please let me know if there’s anything else we can do for you.”

  She touched the wall near the light switch on her way out. Repaired and freshly painted, the house was ready to absorb new stories for a new generation. Smiling at her quirky thought, she drove home, thinking about the season.

  Christmas had never been Amalia’s favorite holiday. She hadn’t really favored any particular time of year, come to think of it. Her parents had been quiet and not given to decorate much or be socially active, despite their people-oriented business.

  This year, though, would be different for Amalia. At her desk she made notes on Hudson’s, as well as her own, client and vendor lists. This year Christmas morning would be more than just another day. Thoughts of Bunty waking her early to find gifts had been left under the tree caused her a daydream shiver of joy.

  Merit’s Advent messages had sparked the congregation of New Life like never before. Their pastor didn’t only talk about waiting for the Messiah and the traditional meaning of Christmas—he challenged the members to go out and share their gifts in tangible ways. He handed out contact information to “adopt a family” through the county social services and encouraged them to participate in the tutoring and English as a Second Language reading programs. He got several representatives from national charitable organizations to speak and mingle with folks at the coffee hour. Even the missionary family talked about their work.

  Merit looked a little haggard when she last saw him, picking up discarded books from the community library to take to the nursing home. She hoped he wouldn’t wear himself out. What could she do to help him? Maybe he would relax in January. He must be due for a vacation.

  What would it be like to be married to such a caring man? Amalia shook her head at her foolish fantasy. First, he had to be able to trust her again, after the fiasco with Hudson and his heart attack proposal. Maybe, then maybe, Merit could learn to love her and let her be a part of his life. Her and Bunty.

  Amalia was ready to take a shopping break. She put her pen down and stretched before heading to downtown Fox Falls. Her phone rang as she stood at the store’s counter, waiting to have Bunty’s books and clothes wrapped. Amalia made a face and turned away to answer. “Cherie! Merry Christmas. Oh, I miss you. How are things going? I bet the kids are happy to be so close to their grandparents.”

  Bunty would not have grandparents to spoil him on Christmas. “What, Cherie? I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”

  “I asked if you’re happy, girlfriend, not distracted,” Cherie said, her voice sounding much too far away.

  “Oh, right. Sure, I’m happy. I’ll get to see Bunty in Chicago. I should be able to bring him back too. Social services approved my license.” She held the phone away from her ear when Cherie squealed.

  “Oh, girl, that’s fantastic! I knew you could do it. I’m so happy for you. And the little guy’s old enough for school, you said?”

  “Yes, that’s right. I registered. Hang on a second, okay? I’m ready to leave the store.”

  Amalia thanked the young woman behind the counter. With the phone stuck between her jaw and shoulder, she picked up the bags and walked out, recounting to Cherie the gifts she had purchased. Once in her car, she put the seat back and settled in for a chat.

  “Merit? Well, he’s got a houseful. Especially with his sister and brother-in-law coming. He’s hosting a missionary family, too, you know. Yes, he’s just a dynamo. Everyone loves him. Tell me about your new church.”

  Amalia drove home after their talk. She and Marianne had spoken several times, sharing their news and planning for her Christmas visit—next week, already. Bunty’s cousin had married and moved in with her husband’s family, but Bunty stayed with Marianne Friese. Surely she would be ready to give up that responsibility and get her own life back.

  Amalia spoke to Bunty every night before he went to sleep, as they promised. Marianne had been very good about making sure the little boy understand he would hear her voice daily. Amalia rejoiced in the fact that, last week, she had finally stopped crying during their talk.

  As she arranged the colorful packages under the tree at her house, she stepped back to admire them. Yes, this Christmas would definitely be precious. And afterward…yes, after Christmas, she would tell Merit how she felt about him. Even Jordyn would be proud of her.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Merit snapped his phone shut. Paul Dal’Chindri had tracked down some of the answers to questions about Bunty’s status. He had not been able to confirm the child would be allowed to stay in the United States now that his cousin’s family had not officially claimed him. The country had yet to release approved records of the names of the dead, and he knew that it could be even longer to accurately trace the living. What would Amalia do if her hopes of adopting Bunty were dashed?

  Since Merit accepted his place was in the States, at least for now, and he could work as well, maybe even better, with a wife by his side, he imagined no other wife than Amalia. He loved her and felt reasonably certain she felt the same toward him. What made him hesitate to tell her? Maybe after the holidays, things wouldn’t be so hectic. He could slow down, think things through. They would have some answers by then about the little boy. Yes, after Christmas would be a good time to discuss his feelings with Amalia. Hopefully, this time, they wouldn’t be interrupted by either heart attacks or great Scots.

  But could he wait that long? Last year he had been building on the concept of a holy day of thankfulness and return gratitude with the Nehrangesi. This year seemed the reverse. He needed to focus on the thankfulness part and the reason for sharing gifts with each other. Gifts that did not necessarily have to be material. He paused in front of the window to look at the low clouds gathering. A gentle snow would be perfect. Merit reached to squeeze the back of his neck. His tie threatened to strangle him under his sweater. He tugged it loose. He should go to a meeting this afternoon for the ministerial association that he did not feel like attending. The sermon consisted of a concept and an outline so far. And he still needed to finish the Christmas Eve service. Several families were scheduled to sing and perform. He’d give a truncated message.

  Merit had not yet gotten a handle on working a couple of weeks in advance on his messages like some of his colleagues. He knew that would help his peace of mind, but it seemed unnatural.

  Something shimmered in the corner of his eye. A snowflake? AnnaMaria would love it. Merit had enjoyed sharing the house with like-minded family. He had not been home as much as he would have liked, but when they were together, they shared some of their field experiences
.

  The Monroes were leaving the next morning to spend Christmas with family, so Merit decided to go home right after the meeting, and not return to his office that evening. He let Mrs. Field know his plans on his way out. “Just put on call forwarding, Mrs. Field. Thank you.”

  He grinned as her “Happy Advent” echoed in his ears. Being of traditional bent, Mrs. Field preferred to wait on Christmas salutations until after December 25. He supposed he would have to come up with a Twelve Days of Christmas theme. Right. He could do that.

  * * *

  At home, seated at the table that evening, Merit slid his napkin onto his lap. Amalia’s idea to hire the Margriffs had been a blessing. Besides saving him a head of worry, it also allowed him to get to know Reggie and Sarah better. Pete and Cherie had done a great job of encouraging the youth of the New Life community to stay involved with church. Merit had loved working with the enthusiastic half-dozen or so regulars in high school. Now with the college kids home, they took over some of his responsibilities. Even Angus had jumped in by sponsoring a pizza and skating party and lined up a popular Christian band for which he’d printed posters.

  Thoughts of Angus made Merit smile inside. Angus had not been all that hard to win over. Merit sometimes wondered why the man listened to him instead of to Pete or even Amalia. Really, those two, and others before them, had prepared the ground and sown the seeds of faith. He only waltzed in at the last moment to water the seed, as Pru would have said. Angus had made his confession of faith right after Thanksgiving, but asked if they could wait a while before announcing it. He wanted to surprise Amalia and the rest of the church on Christmas Eve. Merit shook his head. A missionary finds fertile ground no matter where he is, whether Illinois, Nehrangestan, or Nicaragua.

  Merit appreciated how much Bob Monroe relied on his wife Trudy in the field. Their kids had even opened doors with families that the older Monroes could not have reached on their own, Bob said. The Lord makes pathways according to his plans. He and Trudy had to trust God with their family. Merit wanted to ask Bob if he feared for their safety, but not in front of the children. Bob offered grace.