The Christmas Hope

by VanLiere, Donna

  Her voice trailed off and I could hear her clear her throat.

  “She was too young to be raising a child. She never could make ends meet but she was a good soul and that little girl of hers is a sweet child.” She was quiet. Greta was the closest thing to a mother Tracy had had for several years.

  “Did you watch Emily at all last night?” I asked.

  “No, it was our anniversary. Something in me told me that Tracy wouldn’t be able to find anyone to sit with Emily but she kept telling me she could. I never should have left.”

  “So you don’t think anybody was with her last night?”

  “No, and I can’t imagine how afraid that sweet little baby was when the police knocked on her door.”

  There was no point in asking Greta again about who else could have been with Emily because she didn’t know. But the thought nagged me: who was holding Emily’s hand? What if it had been someone from the neighborhood who knew Tracy wasn’t home? What if someone had questionable motives for being alone in a house with a child? I pushed the thought out of my mind. I promised to stay in touch with Greta and hung up the phone.

  Greta and Hal knew the landlord of Emily’s duplex would want to rent it out as soon as possible and they didn’t want anyone else to go through Tracy’s and Emily’s things so they loaded their car with empty boxes and drove down the street. Hal emptied the refrigerator as Greta packed personal items from Tracy’s house into boxes: a few photo albums and home movies, some of Tracy’s clothing she thought Emily might like to have someday, what little costume jewelry Tracy owned, and all of Emily’s toys. As Greta packed boxes filled with sheets and towels from the hall closet a small package dropped to the floor. She picked it up, opened the box, and discovered a small silver cross covered with pink stones. She turned it over and saw there was an inscription: “For Emily—Love, Mom.” Greta looked at the bottom and saw that it had been inscribed with the word “Christmas” and the year. “She was a good mother,” Greta whispered. When the house was clean and organized and Greta felt certain that she had packed away everything that would one day be important to Emily, she stood with Hal in the doorway and took one last look inside the tiny kitchen and living room she’d been in so often over the past four years. She wiped her eyes and Hal pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. They both wished they could have done more for Emily and Tracy but what they didn’t realize is that taking the time to show love to someone is more than some people will ever choose to do.

  Ten days later I was sitting at my desk in the office when Greta called. The landlord of Tracy’s duplex needed the rest of her things to be removed so he could make repairs and rent it out. I had told Emily that I would take her back to say good-bye and now that time had come. I picked her up at the Delphys’ and held her hand as we walked through the front door of the small rental. The walls were bare, boxes were scattered throughout the kitchen and living area. It smelled like cleaning agents and stale air.

  “Where is everything?” Emily asked.

  “Greta and Hal packed everything,” I said. “They have several boxes of things for you. Why don’t you look around and see if there’s anything else that you’d like to have.”

  She held my hand as she walked toward her bedroom. The closet and chest of drawers were empty, the bed was stripped and the toys were gone. I looked at Emily’s face and wondered if she really understood what was happening.

  “Can I have my bed?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll have Hal come pick it up.” We walked into Tracy’s room and Emily sat on the edge of the bed. Her forehead crinkled but she didn’t cry. I knew that she and her mother had probably spent many nights giggling or reading together in this bed.

  She looked underneath the bed. “All my books are gone.”

  “Greta has them,” I said. She opened a box sitting next to the dresser and began to rummage through Tracy’s clothes. Near the bottom of the box she pulled out a pink sweatshirt with Mickey and Minnie Mouse on it. She took off her coat and put on the sweatshirt.

  “Can I have this?”

  “Of course,” I said. “You can have anything. It’s all yours.” She pulled out another sweatshirt, a gray one with frayed cuffs, and held it. Tracy’s favorite, I was sure. We found a box marked “Christmas” and Emily opened it. There were a few bulbs and tinsel and a tiny Nativity set. I watched as she walked through the boxes, dragging her fingers over the tops of them. We spent an hour filtering through boxes, sitting in the quiet, looking out the windows, and collecting things. When she was finished we walked toward the door. I turned to grab the handle and felt Emily’s arms wrap around my leg. She didn’t want to leave. She let out a highpitched cry and fell to the floor and I knew then that she understood that she would never see this tiny duplex again. She’d never see her mother wearing her favorite gray sweatshirt and putting on makeup in front of the bathroom mirror. There were no more Disney videos while sitting on Mom’s lap or snuggle time in Mom’s big bed with her favorite books. She now had the impossible task of saying good-bye and she couldn’t. I held her as she cried. We sat together in the front entrance and looked out over the boxes into the home that would now exist only as pieces in her mind. I wanted her to remember what it looked like and how it smelled and the love that had filled its tiny space. I prayed that she would never forget because it held her first memories. Nothing can prepare a five-year-old to say good-bye to her mother, but Emily did. I don’t know how long we stayed; it doesn’t matter. We left when she was ready. She held on to my hand and closed the door behind her.

  I pulled on my gloves and got in the car, turning the heat on high. It was one of the coldest Decembers that I could remember in recent years. I tried to contact two foster families on my way to the Delphys’ to pick up Emily but there wasn’t an answer at one home and the other family had already left the state for the holidays. I pulled into the Delphys’ drive and Karen greeted me at the door. “I’m so sorry, Karen,” I said, closing the door behind me. “How’s Eric?”

  “He’s upstairs talking to his mom. They’ve been expecting this and trying to prepare for it but …”

  “You’re never ready,” I said.

  “No.” She shuffled her feet and I knew something was terribly wrong.

  “What is it, Karen?”

  “Eric and I are going to have to stay with his mother for a while to settle the estate. He’s not the oldest child but he is the only one capable of taking care of his mother right now. We need to help her move out of the house she’s been in for forty-five years and get her settled into a nearby retirement village and we have no idea how long all of that is going to take. It could be several weeks.”

  I understood what she was saying. There was no place for Emily right now.

  “I just don’t know how we could—”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Don’t worry about her.”

  “She’s a sweet little girl,” Karen said. “But the funeral and everything isn’t going to be the right environment. I feel awful about this, Patricia. We want her to come back just as soon as we’re home again.”

  “Thanks, Karen,” I said. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of in the meantime.” Emily walked into the entryway holding her suitcase. Karen knelt down in front of her and zipped her coat. Emily looked at the floor. Karen kissed her forehead and opened the door for us.

  “Tell Mr. Eric I’m sorry that he’s so sad.”

  Karen smiled and kissed her again.

  I helped Emily into the backseat of my car and got behind the wheel. I needed to find another long-term foster home for her soon. I drove through the streets toward Wesley House, a home built by Methodists during the Civil War to help care for widows and orphans. Over the years it had been used to house children six years and older who weren’t in foster placement at the time. Emily could stay there for a few nights till I could find her a temporary foster home. I looked at her in the rearview mirror. She was holding her teddy bear and looking out t
he window. She hadn’t changed much in the five months since I first met her. She was still quiet and her eyes held the same uncertainty I saw in July. I turned onto the road that led to Wesley House. I drove slowly and soon realized that I had let off the gas entirely and the car was coasting. Emily didn’t notice. She continued to look out the window. I stopped at the yield sign before the entrance of Wesley House and sat there for the longest time watching her in the rearview mirror. She realized the car had stopped and looked at me. I turned to look at her and tried to smile but couldn’t. She was afraid and I knew it. She held my gaze and my heart broke. There was too much sadness in the world. Five-year-old little girls shouldn’t be faced with life without their mothers, especially at Christmas. My mother always reminded me that life was made up of choices. Sometimes the choices you make will lead to trouble, and you’ll have to deal with that, she said more times than I could remember. Other times, a choice may change your life, and you’ll have to deal with that, too. What I was about to do was against the code of conduct for social workers but I didn’t care if I was reprimanded or even fired. I pulled into the end of the Wesley House drive, turned around, and drove away. I had no idea what that simple choice would mean.

  I opened my garage door and pulled inside. “Here we are,” I said.

  Emily pushed the button on the seat belt and it released. I opened the car door for her and she stepped out into the garage. I opened the trunk and pulled out her suitcase.

  “There’s been a change of plans,” I said, opening the door that led into the kitchen, “and you’re going to stay at my house. Is that okay?”

  She nodded. Girl greeted us with a round of wet kisses. Emily turned her face.

  “That’s enough, Girl. Lie down.” She lay in front of Emily and wagged her tail. “That’s Girl.” Her tail was moving so fast that her entire body wiggled with excitement.

  “That’s a funny name,” she said.

  “It’s not the most original but it did take us several seconds to come up with it.” I could tell that Emily was apprehensive but she stretched out her hand for Girl. “Careful, she might lick you to death.”

  Emily reached toward Girl’s head and Girl threw her head up to lick Emily’s hand and Emily jumped.

  “That’s enough, Girl,” I said, scolding her. She lay down at Emily’s feet and whined. I looked at Emily, “Would you like something to eat?”

  She shook her head.

  “Something to drink? Want some milk or juice?”

  She shook her head again. “My mom doesn’t let me drink a lot at night because I wet the bed.”

  I had noticed in previous visits with Emily at the Delphys’ house that she would often talk about her mother in the present tense.

  “Let me hang up your coat, then, and I can show you where you’ll sleep.” I helped take off her coat and she followed me to the hall closet. I hung up my coat and turned to her. “Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, let’s head upstairs.” Girl led the way and I walked into the spare bedroom. Emily stood in the doorway. I set her suitcase on the floor and sat on the bed. “It’s okay, Emily. You can come in.”

  She came into the room and stood in front of me. I helped take off her clothes.

  “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

  She shook her head.

  “If you need to go during the night it’s right there,” I said, pointing into the hallway. “Are you ready to go to sleep?”

  She nodded and I pulled the blankets down so she could crawl into bed. Girl jumped on top of the comforter.

  “Girl, get down,” I scolded. I didn’t like dog hair on the bed.

  “It’s okay. She can sleep here,” Emily said, putting her hand on the dog. Girl gave me a smug look and I knew I was defeated. I pulled the covers up around Emily’s neck and over her teddy bear. She moved the blankets from the bear’s face.

  “He can’t breathe like that,” she said.

  I smiled. “What’s his name?” I said, tucking the blankets under the bear’s chin.

  “Ernie.”

  “Oh, Ernie’s a good, solid name for a teddy bear. How long have you had him?”

  “Ever since I was a little girl.”

  “Well, I can tell he’s a faithful friend. Just like Girl.”

  She nodded.

  “Would you like me to leave the hallway light on so you can see if you need to get up?”

  She nodded.

  I moved the hair off her forehead and squeezed her hand. I turned the bedroom light off and closed the door halfway. “I’m in the next room if you need me,” I said, peeking around the door.

  She lifted her head off the pillow. “Could you leave the door open big?”

  I opened the door all the way and moved toward my room.

  “Could you come sit here?”

  I stood inside the door of her room.

  She pointed to the chair beside the bed. “Could you sit right there till I fall asleep?”

  I tucked the blankets around her again and sat down.

  She patted the side of the bed. “Could you sit here instead?”

  I sat on the edge of the bed and held her hand.

  She closed her eyes and tried to sleep. “Could you lay down on the bed?” she asked with her eyes closed.

  I paused for a moment; I was fully dressed. I didn’t even like to take a nap in my clothes because of the terrible creases it made.

  She looked up at me; I was taking too long to make such a simple decision. There was nothing I could do. Emily was afraid. I took off my shoes and lay down next to her, resting my hand on her arm.

  “I’ll stay here all night if you want me to,” I said. I looked at her and she nodded as a small tear fell down her cheek. I didn’t say anything. There was nothing I could say that would bring Emily’s mother back or provide any understanding of what had happened. I wiped the tear away and prayed that God would provide a home full of love for this beautiful little girl, and after her breathing grew heavy, I fell asleep.

  Nathan Andrews stuck his head out of the attic opening. “Lights,” he said, reading the side of the box. His wife, Meghan, stepped onto the ladder and climbed up to get closer to the box. “Don’t climb up here,” Nathan scolded.

  “I can’t reach it,” Meghan said.

  Nathan’s body filled the attic entrance. “Then I’ll climb down.” He held the box on his shoulder as he stepped down the ladder toward Meghan then handed it to her. “Careful, it’s heavy,” he warned.

  Meghan reached for the box and rolled her eyes. “This might weigh five pounds,” she said, placing it on the garage floor. She put her hand on top of her swollen belly.

  “What’s the matter? Are you tired?” Nathan asked, climbing the ladder.

  “I’m just standing here waiting for you,” Meghan said.

  “Is the baby all right?”

  “Yes! It’s just bored because we’ve been waiting so long for you to hand down what few Christmas boxes we have up there!”

  “Don’t call my boy an it. That’s offensive.”

  Meghan smiled. “What if this baby isn’t a boy?”

  Nathan looked through the attic opening. “Didn’t you say he jumped the other day when we were watching football?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts about it. You’re about to give birth to a cardcarrying Steelers fan!”

  Meghan shook her head.

  “Garland and wreaths coming down,” Nathan yelled. He threw the box and it landed at Meghan’s feet. “Ribbon and tinsel.” Another box landed on the garage floor. “Fragile,” Nathan said of the next box, watching Meghan’s reaction. “Nativity.”

  “Don’t throw that one!” Meghan screamed, stretching her arms up toward the box.

  Nathan laughed and climbed down, closing the attic hatch. He bent down and started carrying boxes into the front yard. “Don’t carry anything heavy,” he said, looking at Meghan over his shoulder.
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  Meghan rolled her eyes and picked up a box marked “Lights.” They had wanted to decorate the outside of the house sooner but Nathan’s hours at the hospital kept them from it. His third year of residency in pediatric cardiology kept him busier than expected at times. Meghan didn’t mind his schedule. She kept busy teaching and coaching high school track and when she could she worked on preparing the baby’s room. She was due the first week in January and couldn’t wait to be a mother. When she and Nathan married on Christmas Eve nearly three years earlier they’d said they wanted to wait five years before trying to have a baby but when Meghan started to feel nauseous during her first morning class she knew that their five-year plan was changing. They didn’t know the gender of the baby and didn’t want to know until the day of delivery. “Nothing is surprising anymore,” Nathan told friends and family who would ask. “This is really the last great surprise that’s left. Besides, I already know it’s a boy.”

  Nathan began to string the lights around the small shrubs in front of their duplex as Meghan opened boxes, pulling out wreaths, handmade Victorian stars, and painted wooden angels. She pulled a wad of garland from a box and began to straighten it when a small box fell to the ground. She bent over and discovered it was an unwrapped gift. She turned it over to examine it. “What’s this?” she asked, turning toward Nathan. He was on his back underneath an evergreen bush making sure each branch was covered from front to back with lights.

  He peered between the branches. “Don’t know. Maybe it’s the key to the Harley you bought me for Christmas.”

  “Keep holding on to that pipe dream,” Meghan said. She examined the gift and threw her hands in the air. “This is that same gift we found last Christmas. The one with no name on it.”

  When Meghan discovered the gift a year earlier, Nathan had held it between his hands. He was quiet and shook his head. “What’s wrong?” Meghan had asked.