A Daughter for Christmas

by Stephanie Dees

  She lifted Alice into her arms, wanting to cry when she felt the hot little body against hers.

  Wynn followed her to the front door, handing her a juice box for Alice. “Keep us posted, okay?”

  “I will, thank you.”

  Tucking Alice into her car seat in the van, Eve buckled her up before pulling out fever reducer and a syringe. After Alice took the medicine, Eve handed her the juice. “Try to drink this, okay?”

  Alice nodded, but her little hand was limp, and she held the juice loosely.

  Pulling out of the driveway, Eve looked at Alice in the rearview mirror. “You rest, baby girl. We’ll be there in a few minutes, and I bet you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

  As she had so many times before, Eve prayed all the way to the hospital—that what she said was true, that it was a simple strep infection. And that Alice’s immune system was functioning enough to fight it off.

  Anything else was unthinkable.

  * * *

  Tanner rushed through the doors of the emergency room. He’d worked with his neighbors on the farm from early morning until the sun was starting to go down, only stopping long enough to grab a sandwich from the table Lacey and Wynn had set up outside on the porch.

  It wasn’t until he’d gone back to the farmhouse looking for Eve that he found out she’d taken Alice to the hospital. He’d turned right around and headed out the door before Devin had suggested maybe he should take a shower before he went to the hospital.

  He’d made it from the ranch to the hospital in record time, only to get stopped at the visitors’ check-in desk, where a falsely cheerful dancing Christmas tree played a song every time someone passed in front of it. All he could think about was Alice in her princess dresses, with her cheeky smile and her sincere love for a baby pig named Hamlet. At last the woman behind the desk gave him a sticker ID and directions, and he bolted down the hallway.

  He pushed the door open and met Eve halfway across the room. “Eve?”

  “Shhh. She’s fine, just sleeping now. She does have strep, but her white count is high, which in her case is good. It means she has what she needs to fight off the infection. They’re admitting her for the night for fluids and antibiotics, and when she wakes up, she’s going to feel a lot better.”

  His shoulders sagged in relief, but his eyes were on the tiny girl on the hospital bed, a tube taped to her hand, silvery-blond curls fanning out on the thin pillow. “I thought the last two days had been rough, but when Lacey told me you’d taken Alice to the hospital, I think I stopped breathing.”

  “I’m so sorry. I should’ve called you, but I knew you had so many things on your mind today.”

  “She looks so small in that bed.” His voice was husky, and he cleared his throat. “She’s really okay?”

  “She’s going to be. It’s just a normal childhood illness, and she should be able to handle it. Wynn’s brother, Dr. Sheehan, came by to check on her. We’ll follow up with him next week to make sure the white counts are going down and stabilizing.”

  Tanner sank into the visitor’s chair and buried his face in his hands. A second later, he felt Eve’s hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

  “I have no idea.” He looked up into concerned green eyes. “It’s been an unforgettable couple of days, that’s for sure.”

  “Tell me about the farm. What’s going on?”

  “We got all the regular farm chores done and were able to start work on getting what’s left of the barn taken down. The builders worked with Latham and came up with a plan to shore up the existing barn and add an office and two more stalls. I don’t know how to put into words how grateful I am.”

  “It was amazing. I’ve always wanted to be part of a community that takes care of each other like this. It’s pretty rare.”

  He’d been thinking about it all day, how their neighbors had shown up for them. “My mom and dad were always doing things for other people, taking casseroles over or feeding people’s livestock when they had to go out of town. When I was growing up, we had a constant stream of people over to eat dinner, kids to play with, other farm families to talk about dirt and weather and cows.”

  She smiled. “It sounds like a nice childhood.”

  “It was. I didn’t see it that way, after, um...after my parents died. I guess I felt like their deaths somehow negated everything that came before. Devin and Garrett didn’t get that kind of childhood, that’s for sure.”

  “The neighbors didn’t rally when your parents died?”

  “They did, I guess.” His eyes glossed with unshed tears. “I think—I think I pushed them away.”

  She brushed the hair back from his face. “Oh, Tanner. You were so young and hurting so badly. You can forgive yourself for that.”

  “Looking back, maybe I was angry. That they were still alive and my family wasn’t. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to.” Alice stirred in the bed, and Eve shushed her softly. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.”

  Instantly, he was back in time, feverish and cranky. Nine years old. Maybe younger. He’d wanted to get up and go outside and play, but he was too sick. His mom’s cool hand brushed across his forehead. It’s okay, baby. I’m here.

  The memory morphed into him standing beside his baby’s crib in the pediatric ICU, saying the same words. I’m right here, buddy. I won’t leave you.

  He was at the door to the hall, his hand on the latch before he even realized he was moving. His chest was tight, heart hammering. “I’ve got to get back. Call me if you need anything.”

  Eve looked surprised, but she nodded. “They’ll turn us loose in the morning. We’ll be fine.”

  Her eyes were shadowed. She was exhausted, and he felt like a heel for wanting to cut and run. He clenched his jaw. Forced himself to say, “I can stay. Follow you home?”

  “No. You need to get back. Tomorrow will be another long day for you, and we’ll be fine.” She said it again, like she wasn’t just telling him. She was telling herself, too.

  “I’m glad she’s going to be okay.” He pulled open the door and stepped out into the hall. When he looked back, Eve was sitting with her head in her hands. He wanted to go back, but he couldn’t make his feet move.

  He closed the door and left.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, when he opened the door to the farmhouse, it was dark except for the silent flicker of the television. Even the Christmas tree lights were out. The big leather chair creaked as Devin rocked one of the twins. Eli, maybe?

  “How’s Alice?” Devin’s voice was a bare thread above a whisper, but Eli picked his head up, still awake. Devin patted the baby’s back until he laid his head back down.

  “She has strep, but she’s going to be okay. They were giving her IV antibiotics and fluids, I think.”

  “They gonna admit her?”

  “Yeah, just overnight. Her white cells were good—I think that’s what Eve said—so they’ll hopefully be home in the morning.”

  “That’s crazy about her immune system. Scary.”

  Tanner didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “Alice? Yeah, she’s a sweet kid.”

  “You know I didn’t mean Alice, so don’t pretend like you don’t. Eve. What’s going on with Eve?”

  “Nothing’s going on.” Tanner narrowed his eyes and waited. Devin had never in his life recognized the warning signs that Tanner was about to blow, and still didn’t, even though they were both adults.

  “You sure? You ran out of here right fast when you heard her little girl was in the hospital.”

  “Because she’s our tenant and Alice is a sweet little girl I happen to care about.” Tanner’s words were measured. He wasn’t going to let Devin goad him.

  “Our tenant? Come o
n, Tanner, at least admit you like her.”

  “Fine, I like her, okay?” Eli lifted his head again, and Devin scowled at Tanner, who lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “I like her. But I don’t know why that’s any of your business.”

  Devin shrugged. “It’s not my business, but I’m your brother and I care about you.”

  The wind abruptly draining out of his sails, Tanner sank into the recliner next to the one Devin was sitting in. “I’m sorry. I’m a jerk. It’s just I’ve—I’m not even sure I know how to feel anymore. Not really.”

  Devin didn’t judge him. He just nodded. “You numbed yourself—didn’t allow yourself to think about it. I did that, too, except I used drugs to try and lock away the part of myself that could still be hurt. It made things worse, but I did it.”

  “I watched her brush her hand across Alice’s forehead tonight, and I had this memory of Mom that was so strong. It knocked the breath out of me.” Tanner didn’t mention the twin memory of standing beside his son. He swallowed hard. “I just—I just don’t know if I can do it again.”

  In the near darkness, echoing lines of grief were etched on Devin’s face. “What it came down to for me was this—am I going to punish myself for my whole life for something I couldn’t control? Mom and Dad wouldn’t want me to be miserable, or worse, kill myself with drugs because they weren’t here and I felt guilty. Even if what happened was my fault, they wouldn’t want that. And maybe I’m taking some huge liberties here, but I don’t think Kelly would want that for you, either.”

  Tanner’s head jerked up, and Devin held up a hand. “That’s as far as I’m going with that, but think about it. I’m the first to admit taking that step, letting other people in, is terrifying. And you’re the only one who can decide if it’s worth it.”

  “And how exactly do I do that?”

  Devin shrugged. “Faith over fear.”

  Tanner snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

  “I said it wasn’t easy, but I’m also saying if you want to find joy, that’s where it lives.” Eli’s pacifier fell out of his mouth. Devin caught it with his free hand and stood. “He’s finally asleep. I’m gonna put him down and try to get some rest before he wakes up again.”

  “Night.” After Devin left, Tanner sat in the darkness, watching a late-night comedy show on the TV. The host was laughing, the guest making faces and moving his lips—telling a story, Tanner guessed. Without any way to know what they were saying, it all seemed so meaningless. Just like his life. He’d had this experience that he couldn’t make sense of when his family died, so he’d stopped trying.

  Faith over fear.

  Simple truth. Leap of faith.

  So why did it seem like such an impossible thing to attain?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eve finally got home from the hospital with Alice a little after ten in the morning, having spent the entire ride home on the phone with her mother-in-law trying to explain why she hadn’t called them when she realized Alice was sick.

  Truth was, she didn’t have an explanation. She’d been on her own with Alice for the better part of four years, and it just hadn’t crossed her mind to call them. She turned the car off and said a small prayer of thanks that they’d made it back to the cottage. “Come on, Ali-Cat. We’re finally home.”

  “I’m hungry. And I want a show.” Alice was cranky, having been woken every hour on the hour last night to have her temperature checked by the nurses.

  “Coming right up.” On the way to the bedroom, Eve turned on the coffeepot. She grabbed Alice’s pillow off the bed and the extra blankets from the hall linen closet and piled them on the couch. “Okay, hop in. Let’s make sure you don’t have a fever, and then I’ll get you a snack.”

  “Cookies.”

  “Fine.” Digging through her purse, Eve found the thermometer and slid it across Alice’s forehead—99.6. Perfectly acceptable. Alice’s temp hadn’t spiked above a hundred all night. Thank you, antibiotics.

  In the kitchen, she pulled her favorite mug out of the cabinet and pressed the button for coffee. If Alice had had fitful sleep, Eve had barely dozed. The bags under her eyes were so big she could literally see them when she was looking straight ahead.

  She added a splash of half-and-half, which basically only served the purpose of cooling the coffee down enough for her to chug the first cup.

  With her eyes slightly more open and the second cup of coffee cooling in her mug, she stuck a straw in a juice box for Alice and handed her a couple of oatmeal cookies. Right now oatmeal equaled breakfast food, so she was totally killing this mom thing.

  Sadie jumped onto the couch beside Alice and settled in with her head on Alice’s hip. Alice broke off a piece of her cookie and handed it to the dog without looking away from the television.

  Eve would gladly put up with a whiny four-year-old for months on end if it meant Alice was really talking, not just saying words and phrases here and there. She’d been praying for this moment since Alice witnessed her teacher being threatened so many months ago.

  That event had flipped a switch, and Eve hadn’t been sure she’d ever get her happy-go-lucky little girl back. But thanks to fresh air, farm life, a big black rottie and a little fuzzy piglet—not to mention a handsome cowboy—she had.

  It was something good that had happened in this awful, awful week. Exhausted and emotional, Tanner had been showing the strain last night. Eve wondered if he’d felt better when he woke up this morning or if, like Alice, he’d woken up cranky, too.

  Taking her cup of coffee, she sat down in the recliner. With Alice settled on the couch, Eve thought she’d relax for a few minutes.

  She jerked awake an hour later. Alice was sound asleep. Sadie, too. Eve rolled to her feet, took Alice’s temperature again and breathed a sigh of relief, just like she did every single time the thermometer reading was normal.

  Grabbing a granola bar out of the snack bowl she kept on the counter, she walked outside. The ladder she’d borrowed from the shed to clean out the gutter along the front edge of the roof was still leaning against the side of the house. That would have to wait for another day.

  She heard Tanner before she saw him turn the corner and trot up on his horse. “Hey, I thought I heard you drive in a while ago. How’s Alice feeling?”

  “She’s sleeping now, but her temperature’s normal.”

  Tanner’s smile echoed her own. “Best news I’ve heard all day.”

  “How are things going with the cleanup?”

  His horse shimmied a little to the right, and Tanner tightened the reins. “Simmer down, Toby. It’s a little tough to think about how close we were to having the new barn ready to use, but we’re trying to focus on how to keep moving forward.”

  Eve would love to focus on moving forward, but truthfully there was no way for her to afford new shirts, not now. She’d sent a message to everyone who’d ordered and readjusted the delivery date with her apologies. But unless she got insurance money, she wasn’t sure how she could buy more T-shirts to fulfill the orders. And sending money back that she didn’t have wasn’t an option, either. She forced a smile. “One step at a time.”

  “Right.” Tanner spoke again in a low, deep voice to the horse, which seemed like a bundle of muscle about to explode, then said, “Do you think Alice would be up to visiting the church tonight? I asked the pastor, and he said he wouldn’t mind if we take a private tour since she can’t be around crowds.”

  “I think she’d love an outing. I should warn you, though, she was a wee bit demanding this morning.”

  “I don’t mind.” He turned the horse in a small circle. “Toby is a little demanding this morning, too. He hasn’t been ridden enough, and he’s itching for me to give him his head. Pick you up around dark?”

  “Sure.”

  Tanner pushed his hat farther down on his head and turned Toby toward the road. Eve could see
he had a little trouble keeping the energetic horse to a walk but had no problem at all accelerating when they reached the lane.

  She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. No, she wasn’t focused on moving on. She was focused on survival. It was hard not to feel bitter that everything she’d worked toward was at risk. However, despite the dismal state of her bank account, Alice was doing well—better every day—and Eve would trade every dime she had to see that.

  Positive self-talk refilled the tank, or so her counselor had told her after Brent died. If only she could refill her bank account as easily.

  * * *

  Tanner glanced back at Eve and Alice as they followed him up the walkway to the white clapboard church. A soft glow came from the simple stained glass windows.

  He used his key to open the front door, which was painted a glossy red. “When I first started coming here, I thought the red door seemed weird for a little country church, so I did some reading up. Apparently, it’s a tradition from the Middle Ages and was a sign that you could find refuge behind those doors. Kind of fitting, if you ask me.”

  Eve’s eyes lingered on the live greenery hung on the doors, the scent of the cedar giving the air a heady evergreen fragrance as they walked into the sanctuary.

  She stopped just inside the door, her breath catching in her throat. “It’s so beautiful.”

  The church had been built almost two hundred years ago and still had the same dark wood interior, carved by talented craftsmen. Each window had been dressed with greenery and a globe with a candle.

  A real Christmas tree was on each side of the altar, covered with beaded ornaments of white and gold that had been painstakingly made over the years by the women in the church. But to him, the most beautiful thing about the way they decorated this church was the lights they hung from the high, high ceiling. Hundreds of twinkle lights dangled from the wide beams.

  Eve looked up in awe. “It feels like looking into a dark sky full of stars. It makes you feel so small.”