The Christmas Hope

by VanLiere, Donna

  I held up my hand. “We’ve tried counselors, Mom. No, they can’t help.” I moved toward the door and opened it.

  “Patti, Mark loves you and I know you love him. Please don’t let this happen. Please do everything you can before you—”

  I cut her off. “I have done everything I can, Mom,” I said, defeated. “We’ve both done everything we can.”

  In the last several days Mark had gone through his closet and begun to pack his things into boxes and suitcases. I know Mom had seen the boxes and I know she wondered why I hadn’t tried to stop Mark but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how. In four years I hadn’t given him any reason to stay. I was surprised he stayed as long as he did. But what Mom and Dad didn’t know is that I had asked Mark about the bags a few days earlier when I saw him cleaning out his closet. “Are you leaving, Mark?”

  He put his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. “I can’t live like this, Patricia.” He was leaving. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  I walked out of the room. It was a hopeless solution but Mark and I had both known for the last year that it was the only thing left to do. Soon there wouldn’t be anything left of this family.

  “But you’re acting like it’s over,” Mom said. “There’s always hope, Patti. All you—”

  I put up my hand. “Stop it, Mom. Just stop.” I saw the look in her eyes as I closed the door behind me and I knew I’d hurt her. I got in the car and felt myself shaking. How had I become so cold? I should have stayed and talked with them but I was tired in every way so I drove home, went to bed, and prayed for just one day of peace in my life.

  THREE

  We have to go into the despair and go beyond it, by working and doing for somebody else, by using it for something else.

  —Elie Wiesel

  I was dreaming. I don’t know how many times the phone rang before I realized what was happening. It was almost midnight. “Patricia, this is Karen Delphy. I’m sorry to call you so late but I have an emergency.”

  “What is it?”

  “We just received word from Eric’s mother that his father has taken a turn for the worse.” I knew Eric’s father had battled emphysema for the last several years. “Doctors have said that if family wants to see him one last time that they need to come now.”

  “I understand. I’ll come get Emily right away.” Five-year-old Emily Weist had been in Karen and Eric’s home for the past five months. I’d try to call another foster family on my way to pick up Emily.

  I had first met Emily five months earlier in July. I was able to piece together her story from what she and her neighbor, Greta Larson, told me. On that July day Emily sat on the bathroom counter and watched her mother get ready for work. “I’m going to call Mrs. Larson to see if she can watch you tonight,” her mother said. Sixty-one-year-old Greta lived down the street from the tiny duplex Tracy and Emily rented and had always been kind to them. She would often bring meals for them to eat, drop off a winter coat or pair of shoes for Emily, or watch Emily when Tracy was unexpectedly called in to work a shift for someone at the restaurant.

  The doorbell rang and Emily jumped off the counter.

  “I’ll get it.” She opened the door and found Greta holding a bowl covered with aluminum foil. “Miss Greta,” Emily said, throwing herself into Greta’s legs.

  “Have you eaten?” Greta asked.

  “Nope.”

  “How does chicken pot pie sound?”

  “Yum-mee,” the little girl said, taking the bowl from her. She set it down on the red, white, and blue plastic tablecloth covered with fireworks.

  “It’s left over from yesterday but it’s still good. I had it for lunch.”

  Tracy walked out of the bathroom brushing her hair. “Hi, Greta, I was just going to call you.” She stopped when she saw that Greta was wearing nice slacks and a blouse. “Wow. You look so nice.”

  “It’s our anniversary and Hal is taking me out for dinner tonight.”

  Emily snapped her head to look at Greta. “So you won’t be able to watch …” Tracy moved toward Emily to quiet her.

  Greta looked at Emily’s face and realized something was wrong. “Are you working tonight, Tracy? Do you need me to watch Emily?”

  “No. You and Hal go out and have a great anniversary.”

  “We can do it another night. It’s no big deal. We’ve had forty-one other anniversaries.”

  “No. I can find someone else.”

  Greta didn’t believe her. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  For as long as Greta had known Tracy she’d never seen anyone else take care of Emily. “Why don’t Hal and I just bring Emily with us?”

  “Yeah!” Emily shrieked.

  “No,” Tracy said, leading Greta out. “Have a great time and thanks for the food. I’m calling someone right now to come be with Emily.”

  “Call me if you can’t find anyone,” Greta said, walking down the driveway. Tracy picked up the phone and started to dial a number. No one was home. She dialed another number and it had been disconnected. Twenty minutes later she was out of phone numbers and at risk of being late for work. She threw on her uniform and sat down at the kitchen table as Emily finished her meal. She put her head down to think.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” Emily asked. Tracy groaned and rolled her head back and forth on her arms.

  She lifted her head and looked at Emily. “Listen to me,” she said, buttoning her uniform. She took the clock down from the wall. “I have to be at work when the big hand is on the twelve and the little hand is on the six.” She moved the hands of the clock to show Emily. “It’ll look like this when I start my shift. I want you to go to bed when the little hand is on the eight and the big hand is on the six.” She turned the clock to show Emily what it would look like. “Okay?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “I get off work when the little hand is on the ten and the big hand is on the twelve but you’ll be asleep by then anyway.” She picked up the clock and took the batteries out. “I’m going to set this for eight-thirty so you know what it looks like. Keep watching the clock in the living room and when it looks just like this go to bed.”

  Emily stopped eating and looked at her mom. “Who’s going to watch me?”

  Tracy sighed. Emily hadn’t understood. “You’re going to have to stay here by yourself tonight, but it will only be for a little while.”

  Emily crinkled her forehead. “But you said I could never stay by myself. Not even in the car.”

  “I know that, but tonight is different. I can’t find anyone to come over and I have to work.” Emily looked out the kitchen window toward Greta’s house. “Look at me,” Tracy said.

  Emily looked down at the table and cast her eyes up at her mother.

  “Can you do this? Can you stay in the house by yourself and go to bed when the clock looks like this?”

  Emily was quiet, playing with the food on her plate. “What about a bath?”

  “Not tonight,”Tracy said. She knew that Emily finally understood what she was saying. “You can play in your room or watch the Beauty and the Beast video that’s in the VCR but don’t answer the door if someone knocks. If someone knocks you turn the TV off and play a pretend game of not being here. Okay?”

  Emily nodded.

  “I’m going to call as often as I can but if anyone else calls just say I’m in the bathtub and will have to call them back.”

  “But you won’t be in the bathtub. You’ll be at work.”

  “I know that but I don’t want anyone else to know that. I don’t want them to know that you’re here by yourself.” She lit a cigarette and puffed till the end crinkled and glowed red. “So what time are you going to bed?”

  Emily pointed to the clock.

  “Right. Are you answering the door?”

  Emily shook her head.

  “If someone calls for me what are you saying?”

  “You’re in the bathtub.”

  “Rig
ht.” Tracy took another puff and shook her head. She was crazy for trying this. No one leaves a five-year-old alone but she didn’t know what else to do. She was already behind in rent payment and her car needed two new tires. She grabbed her purse and knelt in front of Emily. “I’ll tell you what. In a few days we’ll make a trip down by the river and watch the fireworks and eat funnel cakes.” Emily’s eyes brightened. Tracy pushed the butt of the cigarette into an ashtray. “Okay, I’m locking the door behind me. Do not open it at all for any reason. Stay in the house and go to bed. Do you understand?”

  Emily nodded and sucked milk through a heart-shaped straw.

  Tracy pulled Emily in to her chest and kissed her forehead. “I love you so much.”

  “Love you, too,” Emily said, clenching the straw between her teeth.

  Tracy leaned down toward Emily. “Give me a kiss.”

  Emily spat out the straw and kissed her mother. Tracy kissed her over and over and moved toward the door. “Don’t open this. Don’t come near it. Don’t even look at it. Keep it closed and locked and go to bed at eight-thirty. I love you.” Emily waved and watched milk zip through the straw.

  I had just gone upstairs to get ready for bed that July evening when the phone rang. Since it was eleven-fifteen I assumed the call must be work related. “Hello.”

  “Patricia, this is Dispatch.” It was the dispatcher for the Department of Family Services. “We have a situation that needs attention. A child needs to be placed in protective services.” I took down the rest of the information and directions and got dressed.

  Two squad cars were in the driveway when I arrived at midnight. I showed an officer my card and entered the home. I could see Emily sitting on her bed trying to look through a book with an officer sitting beside her. “Was anyone with her?” I asked.

  “She said someone was holding her hand but if someone was here they left before we got here. Maybe the sitter got tired of waiting and went home.”

  “Does she know?” I asked.

  “We haven’t told her specifics,” an officer said. “We can bring in a chaplain from the unit.”

  I shook my head. “That’s all right. She’s waited long enough.” I walked toward the bedroom and smiled at the little girl. She reached for the teddy bear next to her and the officer left the room. I sat down beside her on the bed. “Hi, Emily. My name’s Patricia.”

  “Are you a friend of my mom’s?”

  “No. I’m a social worker and I help take care of kids and families.”

  “Are you going to help take care of me and my mom?” She hugged her teddy bear tight, waiting for what I was about to say.

  My heart broke for her but I knew I couldn’t struggle for the words; I had to be honest. “Emily, your mom was in a terrible car accident tonight.”

  Her face had no expression.

  “She got hurt really bad and died before the ambulance could get her to the hospital.”

  She stared at the floor.

  “Do you understand?”

  She nodded although I don’t believe she did comprehend what was happening.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, no. You’re not in trouble at all. We’re here because we want to make sure you’re all right. Your mom told a policeman that you were here because she wanted to make sure you were safe.”

  She looked up at me, confused.

  “A policeman was helping your mom and you were the first thing on her mind. She told him that you were here.”

  Emily buried her face in the bear and rocked side to side before reaching her arms for me. I lifted her up and held her on my lap. She put her arms around my neck and I could feel the soft fur of the teddy bear up against my face. An officer walked by the door, looking in. Emily didn’t cry; she just simply held on to me and remained quiet. I rubbed her back and rocked her back and forth. The master’s degree in counseling I received seven years earlier to further equip me as a social worker never seemed adequate to help me through a situation like this.

  “Will my mom ever come home?” she finally asked. My heart sank.

  I turned her so she could see me. “No, honey. She won’t.” She leaned her head on my shoulder and didn’t speak. No matter how old you are, those words always take your breath, leaving you numb. I knew it was too much to take in.

  “Can I stay here?”

  “I’ll need to take you to a house where you can be safe.”

  “But I’m safe in my room.” She picked up a clock beside her bed. “When the clock looks like this I turn off the video and go to bed. I do everything like my mom says.”

  I knew then that there hadn’t been a sitter but that Emily’s mom had left her alone. The circumstances of why Emily was alone would come out later but I knew that she had been cared for and loved.

  I held her hand. “I know you were such a big girl tonight and that you were very brave but I need to make sure that you get to a place where you can sleep and eat without worrying about what the clock says.”

  She picked up a stuffed bunny rabbit and held it in her arms. “Can I go to Miss Greta’s?”

  “The policeman said she’s not home right now but I’ll make sure Greta is contacted in the morning.”

  Emily was uncertain of what was happening. “Can I take my toys?”

  I picked up the teddy bear and handed it to her. “Yes, and I’ll pack some of your clothes. Okay?” I waited for an answer.

  “Are you going with me?”

  “I’m going to drive you there.”

  She shook her head. I hadn’t answered her question. “Are you going with me?”

  I patted her hand. “I won’t be staying with you but I’m going to make sure that you have everything you need.”

  She was quiet as I packed up what few clothes she had in her closet and drawers. I noticed a small catalog sitting on top of her chest of drawers and it was turned to a page with a little girl wearing a flowing lavender-and-pink princess gown. In my mind I could see Emily turning the page there and setting it atop her chest of drawers so her mother could see it. If she saw it, Emily was certain her mother would get the hint and buy it for her birthday or maybe help her petition Santa for it for Christmas. I stuck the catalog in my bag. I held out my hand for Emily but she didn’t want to take hold of it. She wanted to be held. An officer helped with Emily’s suitcase and I picked her up.

  She looked into her room. “Can I ever come back?” she asked. This was the end of her memories in this house with her mother. For whatever part I played in that I wanted to make sure that Emily had a chance to say good-bye.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll bring you back.” I opened the back door and set her on the passenger side of the car. She looked so small as I secured the seat belt around her. I thanked the officers, told them I’d be in touch, and drove her to the Delphys’ home.

  I woke up the next morning and opened the door to let Girl out. I looked through my notes and called the number for Tracy’s mother. It was out of service. I tried the number for her father and it rang several times before he answered. He had been notified of Tracy’s death by someone in the police department but because he had been in bed with vasculitis for several months he would be unable to travel for the funeral. I asked if he’d ever seen his granddaughter, Emily, and he said after she was born he had, but then he lost touch. I got a current phone number for Tracy’s mother and hung up. I dialed the number before I let the sadness of the situation sink in. Tracy’s mother had also been notified of Tracy’s death and was packing her bag for the funeral. I told her how sorry I was. “I have to take off work,” she said, out of breath from running to the phone. “They don’t like it when people take off work at the last minute.” I was stunned. She hadn’t mentioned Tracy or Emily.

  “Emily is in a foster home,” I said.

  “They could fire me for this,” she said. “I hope they don’t but they could.”

  “Would you like to see Emily?” I asked.

  She sighed into the phone.
I could envision her throwing her arms in the air. “If there’s time. There may not be any time. I’ve got to drive in and drive out. That’s all the time they’re going to give me off work.”

  “Do you know Emily’s father?” I asked.

  “If I knew who he was he wouldn’t be walking around today getting other girls pregnant.”

  That’s as close to a conversation about Tracy or Emily that we were going to have. I called Tracy’s brother but he was single and worked the midnight shift at a warehouse. He was kind but made it clear that he was in no position to care for a child. I hung up the phone and doodled on the papers in front of me. This was the part of the job that I hated: discovering that family members can’t or don’t want to care for the children who are supposed to be close to them. It seemed the only person who cared for Emily or Tracy was Greta Larson. I called information for her number. An older man answered the phone. It was obvious he was hard of hearing and by the third time of asking for Greta I was losing my patience. He finally handed the phone to Greta.

  “Thank you so much for calling,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’ve been so worried and none of the neighbors knew what happened to her.”

  I assured her that Emily was with a loving family.

  “Do you know anything about her mother’s family?” I asked.

  “Tracy’s mom and dad are divorced,” she said. “Her dad is sick and her mother is strange. I know she talked with her brother quite a bit, especially during the first year after Emily was born, but I never saw him. He lives a couple hours from here.”

  “Do you know anything about Emily’s dad?”

  “To be honest, I don’t think Tracy knew anything about him. They were teenagers. He probably went off to college, got a job, got married, and has kids of his own now. Nobody knows. And I’m sure he doesn’t care. Tracy didn’t list his name on Emily’s birth certificate. I don’t know why. Seems the least he could have done was pay child support, and the state would have made sure he did, too. But I guess Tracy thought that was a battle she didn’t want to fight for the rest of her life. Poor thing.”