“Is it really fair to the baby to be stuck with such older parents? When Jane is eighteen, I’ll be . . . almost seventy.” She winced and pulled away. “Well, I will be. That’s a plain fact.”
“It’s still not a good enough reason, Dan. Lots of older couples have children these days, and you’ll probably live into your nineties.”
“Emily, don’t you think it will be painful for me to give her up when the time comes? But we have to be realistic. The baby has changed our lives, turned this place upside down. This isn’t the way I planned to live when I gave up the paper. Is this fair to me?”
She sighed and let out a long frustrated breath. No, it wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t what he planned at all.
“It would be a great sacrifice for you,” she agreed. “I mean, unless you had a change of heart and it didn’t feel like it really was a sacrifice. I mean, if you loved her and really wanted to do it . . .” Her voice trailed off. She could see that he was getting irritated.
“Don’t make me out to be the villain here, please. You know that’s not what’s going on.”
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,” she said quickly.
“I’ve already had the experience of raising children, Emily. I don’t feel unfulfilled in that area. Some men my age do, but I don’t,” he told her. “I’m sorry if it sounds selfish to you, but we need to be honest. I’ve worked hard all my life and didn’t envision my retirement years filled with homework and soccer games and band concerts. I want to travel, write. I want you to give up your office so we can have adventures together, maybe live in another country for a year or two—”
“We can do all those things, Dan. Just because we have a child doesn’t mean we’ll be stuck in the house for the rest of our lives, that you can’t write or we can’t travel.”
“Emily, you don’t understand. It’s not that easy—”
“It doesn’t have to be the way it was with you and Claire, raising your kids. It can be different. It can be anything we want it to be, Dan. Don’t you see that?”
When he didn’t answer, she pushed on. “We both love her. What’s more important than that? Yes, it’s been confusing and scary and hard work. And yes, it’s totally turned our lives upside down. But for the good, Dan. All for the good, I feel.”
He started to say something, but she wouldn’t let him interrupt her. He had had his turn; now it was hers. She felt as if she was fighting for her life—not just for Jane’s fate, but the fate of her very marriage.
“What is a more worthy ‘retirement’ project than raising a child? Basically, saving this child’s life? Writing a book? Taking a vacation?” she asked, meeting his gaze squarely. “There are many benefits to being an older parent. I’ve already seen it with me and Sara. You’re calmer; you have more life experience and more to give the child. You’re not chasing after your career goals anymore. Wasn’t that the real problem when you were raising Lindsay and Wyatt? Isn’t that really why you feel so overwhelmed by this idea?”
Dan faced her a moment, then stalked across the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and drank it out of their best crystal. “I wasn’t a very good father when the kids were young. You know that. I’ve told you,” he said curtly.
“Perhaps, but you’re good with Jane. Maybe it’s different for you now.”
“I’ve been a little better with her,” he admitted. “But let’s be realistic. It’s only been a month. I was a washout as a father, Emily, plain and simple. It’s not something I really want to relive.”
Emily walked closer to him and looked him in the eye. “You grieve over those years, Dan. I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to try again and do a better job this time. I know you could.”
He stared at her, shocked by her frankness she realized.
“Do you love me?” She spoke in a clear, even voice.
He blinked and shook his head. “You know I do. For pity’s sake, don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, Dan. That’s what it comes down to for me. If you really love me, you’ll find a way to make this happen. I know you love the baby,” she said simply.
“Yes, I do,” he finally admitted. “Though, unlike you, I don’t see how that changes the hard realities.”
“The hard realities.” She nearly laughed at him. “My hard reality was giving up Sara. You know that. Finding her again should have been the cure, but it hasn’t been. The experience of raising her, which you take for granted, was stolen from me, Dan. It can never be replaced, I know that. But maybe this is a chance for both of us to do it over right. Did you ever think of that?”
“Emily—”
“I believe in my heart that finding this baby was meant to be, Dan. I believe she’s meant to be with us. You and me.”
Dan shut his eyes momentarily, rejecting the idea, she thought. But maybe—hopefully—just having a tough time letting it in?
“They say that when God closes a door, He always opens a window,” Emily went on. “I closed the door on God, and now He’s had to send Jane through a window. Don’t you see that?”
“No, I don’t.” Dan’s voice was even, not angry or emotional in any way. “I think it’s easy for you to cling to some . . . some fantasy and say, ‘This was meant to be. We just have to go through with this because I have this feeling,’ instead of looking at it realistically, unemotionally. Then you’d see that there are plenty of couples out there, younger couples with lots of love and care to give, who would be good parents to Jane—just as good as we might be, if not better.”
His words seemed harsh, almost cruel, and Emily reeled back, as if she had been struck. There didn’t seem to be any hope left here. He would never budge an inch on this.
She suddenly wished that she was single again and had her own life and could just do as she pleased. Then she felt shock at even thinking such a thing, it seemed such a betrayal of Dan. She had been so happy with him, so thrilled to have fallen in love with him. She had never once yearned for her old life, except for now. Wanting Jane so much, she couldn’t help but think that when she was single, she never had to ask anyone’s permission to do what she wanted. She never had to work for a consensus and compromise.
Now when it felt as if a gift from God had been placed at her doorstep, she couldn’t embrace it without Dan’s permission. She felt so frustrated at that moment, she wanted to scream.
“I’ll tell you what your fantasy is, Dan,” she said finally, unable to let it go. “You’re always talking about adventure and the new experiences that are out there. The real adventure is right here, Dan, right under this roof. It is for me, anyway.”
“That isn’t fair, Emily.”
“Why not?” she challenged him. “I think it’s fair and true.”
“What if the shoe were on the other foot? Can you try for just a minute to imagine that? How would you feel if I were trying to talk you into something so momentous by pulling every trick in the book?”
“If I saw how much it meant to you, I would do it,” she told him. “That’s what I think marriage is about. We can’t split things right down the middle all the time; sometimes it’s one person getting 100 percent of what they need, and the other getting zero.”
He stared at her, his head tilted back. She knew that look. He had had enough.
“Are we done now?” he asked angrily.
Emily didn’t answer. The phone rang. Maybe it was Nadine Preston again with more news. Emily didn’t feel able to talk to anyone right now.
Dan didn’t either. They both stood and listened as the machine picked up the call.
“Emily, it’s Dick Sanborne.” She recognized the town fire chief’s voice. “There’s a fire down at Wood’s Hollow. We’ve sent two trucks and both ambulances, the equipment from the midstation, too.”
Emily ran to the phone and picked it up. “I’m here, Dick. I heard what you said. Where are you calling from?”
“I’m down here at the site. We’re working on it. It’s bad. We have a call in
to Essex for more trucks and men. We came up short on crew, with the holiday and all.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Emily hung up the phone and turned to Dan. He’d heard the message, too, and his anger had vanished, replaced by deep concern.
“I’m going down to the fire,” she said.
“Yes, of course. It sounds bad.”
“I think it must be. Dick hardly ever calls me, and he sounds worried.”
She sat in a kitchen chair and yanked off her heels, replacing them with a pair of heavy boots. She didn’t have time to change out of her suit but pulled a heavy sweater she found in the mudroom over her silk blouse, and then put on her down jacket and woolen gloves.
Suddenly she remembered Jane, who was still napping. She would be up soon, though, and somebody had to take care of her. They couldn’t call Blanche Hatcher, not on Christmas night.
She glanced at Dan as she pulled on her woolen gloves. “Can you take care of Jane? She’ll need a bottle when she wakes up.”
“Of course I can.” Dan seemed almost insulted by the question, or maybe ashamed now of arguing so forcefully against adopting her.
She started out and then, on second thought, turned back and quickly kissed him on the cheek. She was still angry, but you never knew what was going happen. The truth was, she still loved Dan, no matter what.
“Just be careful,” he called after her. “And call me.”
“I will,” she promised.
EMILY’S RIDE TO WOOD’S HOLLOW WAS IN PITCH-BLACK DARKNESS ON a seemingly endlessly curving road. But when she finally reached the lake and the scene of the fire, it seemed as if someone had stuck a hundred-watt lightbulb in her face.
The scene was chaotic, the tall, burning wood building billowing with smoke and bright yellow flames licking out the windows. Burned beams were crashing through floors, walls were collapsing, and windows were exploding from the heat. Balconies that lined the old building were consumed by flames; they gradually crumbled and crashed as the fire roared. Men were running and shouting as the burning pieces flew down to the ground. Geysers of water from giant pumps converged on the flames, the spray and puddles turning quickly to ice in the frigid air.
The burning hotel reminded Emily of a monster in an old science fiction movie, wounded but reeling and roaring, refusing to yield to the tiny men who ran frantically, trying to subdue its might.
It was an awesome, terrifying sight to behold. The two buildings nearby were also in danger, she knew, but it appeared that all the residents had been evacuated. Several ambulances stood at the scene, with people on stretchers or just sitting on the ground taking in oxygen, their faces and clothing soot covered. Some sat in groups, wearing overcoats over nightgowns and slippers. Others huddled in blankets, clutching black plastic bags that held the few possessions they grabbed as they were forced from their homes.
Emily walked around, trying to get her bearings. She spotted Tucker Tulley and several other officers from the police department. Everyone was so busy, no one noticed her.
She slowed as she saw a group of terrified residents being hustled away from the buildings. Most were in their pajamas, and many were barefoot. Young and old and middle aged, mothers with children, there had to be a hundred of them who had completely lost their homes, and as many more who couldn’t return to their residences that night and would need shelter. Emily felt overwhelmed, wondering how to help them all.
Someone touched her arm and she turned around to see Luke McCallister. “Emily, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she said distractedly. “But this fire—look at all these people out in the cold, Luke. What can we do? We have to take them somewhere, get them places to stay.”
Tucker Tulley waved and started walking toward them. Harry Reilly, who owned the boatyard in town, was there too. He stood with Grace Hegman and Sophie Potter. The red lights of the police cars swirled around, illuminating their faces. Emily couldn’t tell what they were saying, but Sophie was talking in an animated fashion, looking as if she were directing traffic.
“Tucker,” Emily said, “what are all these people from church doing here?”
“I called Harry and Luke, and the word just spread. We’ve decided to bring most of people here back to the church, put them up in Fellowship Hall. Some can even sleep in the sanctuary on the pews. Sophie is going take a group back to the orchard, and Luke is going to take a bunch over to the center. We’re calling around, too, to see if we can find some families in the congregation to take the others in.”
“Do you think that will work?” she asked skeptically.
There were so many homeless, and it was Christmas night. Were people really going to interrupt their family get-togethers to take in a bunch of dirty, dazed strangers?
Tucker shrugged. “We already tried the hospital and the armory. Nobody will take them. It has to work.”
“Does Reverend Ben know?”
“I tried to call him, but I guess he’s not home. I left a message on his cell phone. I’m hoping he’ll call back soon, but I think we just have to go ahead and do what we have to do. I am the senior deacon,” Tucker reminded her. “I have some say in these things. Besides, do you think he would really object?”
“No, of course not.” A siren screamed, adding to the noise and confusion. Emily realized she was wasting precious time. “I’ll help, too. Let’s get this organized. . . .”
Emily was used to being the one in control, especially in a situation that involved a crisis and public safety. But when she met up with the folks from her church, she soon found herself taking directions from Sophie Potter. Sophie, along with her granddaughter Miranda, Grace Hegman and her father Digger, Harry Reilly, and a host of others were working on their cell phones, packing the fire victims into their cars and SUVs, figuring out places for everyone to spend the night.
As she was working, helping a group into her Jeep, she spotted her brother-in-law, Sam, riding up in his truck.
He pulled up beside her and called from the window, “Emily, are you okay?”
“I’m all right. It’s awfully cold out here, though. We’re trying to get these people into some shelter.”
“I know. Luke called me. I brought some blankets.”
Of course, Sam would be here. If he heard of someone in trouble, he was there, no questions asked. She wasn’t surprised that Luke called him. They were good friends.
“Park your truck and check in with Sophie. There are plenty of people who will be awfully glad to see those blankets.”
IT WAS JUST PAST MIDNIGHT WHEN BEN REACHED THE CHURCH. HE had been spending Christmas Day with Rachel’s in-laws, Jack’s parents, who lived over an hour away. His cell phone service was spotty out of the area, and it wasn’t until they were nearly home that he noticed the call from Tucker Tulley. He and Carolyn bypassed the turn to the parsonage and headed straight to the church.
The church was ablaze with light. Even from a distance, Ben and Carolyn could see the activity. As they walked from the parking lot, cars were driving up as if it were the middle of the day. Members of the congregation hurried about, carrying bags of clothing and groceries and boxes filled with blankets, pillows, and towels.
“Ben, look at all this,” Carolyn said, awestruck.
Ben was speechless with astonishment, gazing around as if he had landed in some parallel universe. Everything and everyone looked familiar. Yet it wasn’t at all.
Inside the church, he found Emily Warwick and Sophie Potter in charge. His church had somehow been transformed into an emergency shelter.
Sophie was in the Fellowship Hall, helping all the fire victims get settled down with bedding. There were long tables set up with cooked food and hot drinks—tea, coffee, hot cocoa. Carolyn went over to speak to Sophie and Emily, but Ben wandered around, wanting to take in the entire situation.
There were other tables with piles of clothes, almost enough for a mini rummage sale, he thought. It was sorted, he noticed, for women, chil
dren, and men. Members of his congregation were helping the people from Wood’s Hollow pick out what they needed. A long rack of coats and jackets stood just past the tables. And if that all wasn’t enough, there was a small table at the end of the hall where Grace Hegman sat, collecting donations.
Where in heaven’s name had all this come from? How had they organized and managed to produce such an abundance? It was like the story of the loaves and fishes, he thought. Only it was even more poignant to him. He’d never seen anything like this—this outpouring of kindness and neighborly love in action. He had never imagined it. The place that he’d so recently found stagnant and complacent was now brimming with God’s love.
He was standing right in the midst of a miracle.
The fire victims gazed up at him as he walked through the big room. Some were already sleeping, curled on their makeshift beds, feeling lucky to be alive, perhaps, but facing total devastation. Everything they owned was gone.
A mother with a little girl who seemed about four years old sat on the floor nearby, settled on a nest of blankets.
The little girl stared up at him, her face streaked with tears. He crouched down and tried to smile at her. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “It’s going to be all right.”
He glanced at the mother. She didn’t smile or even try to. She was plainly in shock, and Ben knew that it wasn’t going be all right for her, not for a very long time.
“Can I bring you anything? Some food or something to drink?”
She shook her head.
He didn’t know what else to say to her. “I’m so sorry . . .”
She nodded. Ben wasn’t sure she spoke English, but she seemed to understand him. She turned to her daughter and stroked her hair.
“I’ll keep you both in my prayers,” he promised.
She nodded again, as if to thank him. Ben stayed for a moment more and moved on.
EMILY RETURNED HOME AT DAYBREAK. SHE STAGGERED INTO THE house through the back door, sooty and exhausted. Her good suit and blouse were ruined, but she didn’t care.
The Christmas Angel Page 23
