The Christmas Hope

by VanLiere, Donna

  “Hey, Mom, I’m on the road,” he said. “I left an hour ago so I’ll see you in a couple more. I’m going to be losing cell service in a few minutes but call if you need me. See you in a little while. Love ya.” See you in a little while. Time would pass so quickly for Sean.

  We both sat and cried as Mark played the message over and over. It was the first time we had really grieved together. Mark handed me a tissue and I wiped my face. My head pounded; it had been an exhausting few days. “He loved you, Patti,” Mark said. “Sean always loved you.” I twisted a soggy tissue in my hand and smiled. “Do you think God parted the clouds today so Sean could see us?”

  “I think he probably did.”

  Mark was quiet. “Sean’s Christmases have been a whole lot better than ours.”

  “I know,” I said, holding the tissue on my eyes.

  “He’s waiting for us, Patti.”

  I leaned my head on the back of the sofa and nodded.

  “Did God send an angel to hold her hand?” He was thinking of what Emily had said at Longworth Farm.

  “Yes,” I said. “I believe her.”

  “Was an angel holding her mother’s hand?”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t and didn’t want to answer because I knew where Mark was leading.

  “Was an angel holding Sean’s hand?” I wanted to hold back the tears but there was no use in trying. “Did an angel hold him at the end?” I began to sob and Mark pulled me in to him. My head throbbed but was reeling with so many questions. Is death God’s final act of mercy in our lives? Does He send an angel to help us through our last seconds on earth? Does He send an angel to hold the hand of a frightened child who’s waiting for her mother, who will never return home? Did an angel go through Sean’s accident with him? “He wasn’t afraid,” the young doctor said that night. “He was calm as he spoke to me. Everything about him was peaceful.” Was it God’s presence that had given Sean that peace?

  “I love you, Patti,” Mark said. He held my arms and looked at me. “If I could bring Sean back I would, but I can’t do that. I don’t want to lose you, too, but I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what you want or what I can do to help you. All I know is that I have never stopped loving you, Patti.”

  I closed my eyes and sobbed. Mark was a good man. He had always been a good, kind, and decent man but I somehow managed to drive him away. I looked at him and saw the same handsome face that had smiled at me after he spilled spaghetti all over me so many years ago.

  “Why did you stay?” I asked.

  He looked up at the ceiling. “Because I took these crazy vows and the minister made me believe that they were real!” I smiled. “Let me tell you, nobody would repeat those things if they knew the anguish, turmoil, grief … and happiness that came with them.”

  I tried to laugh but cried harder.

  He took hold of my shoulders again. “Do you love me?” He had to ask because for years I hadn’t given him any reason to believe that I did.

  “Yes,” I said, so quiet I was certain he hadn’t heard me. But he had. He leaned over and kissed me. I pulled away and looked at him. How could we have been lost for so long? We walked upstairs and I opened Emily’s door so Girl could take her place at the foot of the bed. Emily was asleep. Mark and I walked into our bedroom, closed the door, and talked into the night. I doubted I would ever know who rang our doorbell that day but I knew enough: four years after Sean’s death God had sent two angels to me at Christmas to save my life. One had given me a gift from my son, and the other, a five-year-old named Emily, had given me reason to hope and to teach me about my son’s death: God wasn’t a liar. He was with Sean to the end, just as He promised.

  Roy was right; it was time to live again.

  NINE

  Hope and fear are inseparable.

  —François de la Rochefoucauld

  “Isn’t there anything we can do?” Mark asked.

  I shook my head. “She has to be with a foster family.”

  “How long would it take for us to become a foster family? We could hurry up and do it and then she could stay with us till she’s adopted.”

  “There is no hurry up and do it,” I said. “It takes three months.” There was nothing we could do. We’d been up through the night trying to find a way for Emily to stay with us but there wasn’t one. I turned on my Palm Pilot and found the phone number for a foster family I’d worked with many times over the years and called them. Yes, they would take Emily. I hung up the phone and looked at Mark. How could we give up a child that we loved? I had to go to the office and begin the paperwork. I hadn’t been to the office since I picked her up and I needed to file the necessary papers. I couldn’t put it off any longer. I hoped to be home by the time Emily was awake. “When I’m finished I’ll call and you’ll need to bring her to the office.” I got my coat and Mark took it from me, kissing me. Throughout the night I knew why I had brought Emily home with me; God had enabled her visit to bring Mark and me back together. But what did that mean for Emily? What would happen to her? Those questions weighed on me as I drove to work.

  There were a few people in the office who were pretending to be busy but they were mostly talking about what they did for Christmas. I avoided them and went to my desk to prepare Emily’s file. You’ve done this for years, I thought. Just do it and get it over with. I pulled out the forms and began to file my report, filling in all the necessary blanks: Deceased, orphan, five years old, no legal guardian, foster home. I stopped writing and shook my hand. It felt as if I were moving a twenty-pound pen around on the page. I typed into my computer about the night I was called to take Emily into protective services and meeting the police at her home before reporting the phone call from Karen Delphy and explaining their situation. I stared at the words on the screen: December 21. Had it only been five days ago? The phone rang at my desk. I considered letting it ring but thought it might be Mark. I picked up the receiver.

  “Patricia,” a young voice said.

  “Justin?” I thought, Oh, please don’t let anything be wrong.

  “We decorated a Christmas tree.”

  I sighed. “That’s great, Justin. Is it pretty?”

  “It’s awesome,” he said, describing it to me in detail. “You can come see it if you want.”

  I told him I would.

  “I got a lot of cool presents, too, and my mom made a turkey.”

  “How is your mom?” I asked.

  “She’s cool,” he said.

  I was relieved. Justin and his mother were doing well. “Thanks for calling me,” I said.

  “I just wanted to wish you a late merry Christmas and tell you happy New Year, too,” he said, mumbling into the phone. “And say … thanks for, uh … for bringing me back.” He hung up before I could say anything. There are still happy endings, I thought, reminding myself.

  “What in the world are you doing here?”

  I jumped in my seat and spun around to see Roy.

  “I have to file a report on Emily,” I said, turning back to my computer. I should have asked how Roy’s Christmas was but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to talk with anyone, not even Roy.

  “Is she going into a foster home today?”

  I nodded but kept working.

  “How does she feel about that?”

  I shrugged, keeping my back to him.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  I stopped typing. “I’m sick about it,” I said. “But there’s nothing we can do. You know that.” I started to type again. I was determined to finish the report.

  Roy tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said.

  I ignored him.

  This time he tapped harder. “I said excuse me.”

  I rubbed my shoulder. “Ow! What are you doing?”

  “I think the better question is what are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to get this report ready.”

  He sat down on the edge of my desk. “Well, somebody might be able to help
you if you’d just stop working for a second.”

  “Help me with what? I’ve done these reports a thousand times.”

  He sighed and threw his hands in the air. “You women drive me crazy. I don’t know why I ever asked Barbara to marry me. Now I’ll be having conversations like this for the rest of my life!”

  I jumped out of my seat and hugged Roy. “You finally did it! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you? You can’t keep a secret. For days we planned a surprise birthday party for Glenda and she never had a clue until you blabbed.”

  “That was ten years ago!”

  “It left a mark!” I sat in my chair and looked up at him. He was happy and proud.

  “Is the ring pretty?”

  He held his fingers in front of him and then pretended to shine them on his sleeve. “I don’t like to brag but she cried when she saw it.”

  “Because the diamond was so small?”

  He slapped the desk and laughed and then picked up the paperwork on my desk. I watched him read through it.

  “How was Christmas?” I couldn’t tell Roy everything; it would take too long.

  “I hated to see it end.” He shuffled the paperwork in his hands and studied what I’d written. He rested his forehead on his thumb and middle finger and read through each line again. I continued working but could hear Roy rustling the papers behind me.

  After several minutes he rested the papers on his knee. “She has a living grandmother, grandfather, and uncle?”

  “Yes.”

  “And none of them are legal guardians?” I didn’t know what he was getting at.

  “No.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I called them the morning after the accident. None of them could take Emily.”

  “They couldn’t take her. What does that mean exactly?”

  His questions were beginning to annoy me and I gave Roy a frustrated look. “It means they couldn’t take her,” I said, this time with more emphasis.

  “Did you ask if any of them were Emily’s legal guardian, or did they think that you were calling to ask them to take on their legal guardian role and they were declining?”

  I shot up in my seat. I finally knew what Roy was doing. I had been asking the same questions for years. How could I have forgotten to ask about legal guardians this time? I scrambled for the phone and picked up the receiver but realized I had to look up Greta’s number first. I dug through my purse for my Palm Pilot. “Roy, what have I done? How could I forget to ask such a basic question?” I asked, emptying the contents of my purse out on my desk. “How could I forget? What does this mean?” He pressed my hand to stop me from moving.

  “It means that if one of those relatives can’t be the legal guardian that maybe they could name you and Mark as legal guardians until you find a permanent home for her.” He smiled and I fell back into my seat.

  “How did you know?”

  “Do you think I’m blind? Anybody can see that that little girl has you all tied up in knots. You’re not doing your job right, you’re decorating Christmas trees, and you’re dumping your purse out like a crazy person. I’m not the brightest guy in the world but after seventeen years I do notice some things.”

  I picked up the phone and dialed Greta’s number. “Greta! I’m so glad you’re home. Do you know if Tracy made anyone in her family the legal guardian of Emily?”

  “I don’t know. Why?” There was no time to explain everything.

  “Do you know if Tracy had a lawyer at any time or if she had any important paperwork that she kept somewhere?”

  “Let me think.” She was silent and I waved my hand in the air toward Roy as if trying to hurry her. “Hal!” She was calling Hal. This could take all day. “Hal,” she said, louder. “Did Tracy keep important paperwork anywhere? Did Tracy keep … hold on,” she said into the phone. She covered the phone and yelled. I heard mumbling and the gurgling sound phones make when someone covers the receiver. Out of nerves I started to bounce my leg up and down. What in the world was taking so long? “He’s got a whole box here filled with papers we found the day we cleaned Tracy’s house. He didn’t know if it was important or not so he brought it home.”

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I said to Greta. “I’m coming right over.” I pushed everything back into my purse and ran down the hall toward the elevator. I turned to look at Roy. “Are you coming or not?” He grabbed his coat and ran after me. I thought I was going to explode. I had to call Mark. I picked up my cell phone but decided to wait. I couldn’t get him excited, too. Not yet.

  On the way to Greta’s I told Roy everything that had happened. I told him the story of the watch and the note and he smiled ear to ear, listening. I rambled on and on about talking with Mark and listening to Sean’s last voice message. Roy leaned over to look at the speedometer several times and checked his seat belt. I was driving as fast as I was talking. I ran through Greta’s front door without knocking. The box was sitting on the kitchen table. I lifted the lid and it was chaos inside. Nothing was in files or in order. “Okay,” I said, dumping it onto the table. “Here we go. Look for anything that resembles a will or papers with a law firm listed at the top of the page.” Greta and Hal both reached for their glasses.

  “Gas bill, electric bill, MasterCard,” I said, throwing the papers to the floor.

  “Here’s something,” Hal said. I jumped. “No, never mind. It’s just a receipt from the guy who sold her her car.” He studied the paper. “She never should have paid that much for that car. It wasn’t worth that. Look at this, Greta.”

  “Hal,” I said. “Please keep looking.”

  He threw the paper down and picked up another stack. One sheet after another fell to the floor. There were fewer and fewer pieces on the table. Disappointment was setting in. I looked at the remainder of papers in Hal’s, Greta’s and Roy’s hands and knew they were only old bills. Nothing was here. Why did I let myself get so excited? I held a handful of papers in front of me and slumped into a kitchen chair. I handed them to Roy and he patted my shoulder, throwing the papers onto the table. Greta and Hal were quiet as they stared at them. Those papers were our last hope. I grabbed them and ran out the door.

  Roy knocked on the door. No answer. He looked at the number on the paper and then to the door again, 4A. It was the right door. He balanced a cup of coffee in his hand and knocked louder. A man in his late twenties opened the door a crack and peered out at us. He was squinting from the light in the hallway. “Are you Randall Weist?” Roy asked.

  “Who are you?” His voice was tired but defensive.

  “We’re with the Department of Family Services and need to talk to you about Tracy Weist.”

  He opened the door and we stepped inside to a living room. It was dark; the drapes were pulled and I doubted they’d been opened for weeks. It smelled musty from a combination of dirty laundry, empty beer cans and stale cigarettes. Roy handed him a cup of coffee and a bag of doughnuts we’d brought for him. Randall was in his underwear. He was tall and skinny; his ribs showed every time he took a deep breath. He pushed magazines to the side and asked if we wanted to sit down. A pair of jeans was draped over the arm of the sofa and he pulled them on, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Once he sat down in front of us I recognized him from the funeral.

  “What about Tracy?” he asked.

  “Randall,” Roy said.

  “It’s Randy.”

  “I’m sorry. Randy. We’ve got papers here that we found in Tracy’s things that indicate that you are Emily’s legal guardian.”

  Roy handed him the papers and Randy looked through them, frowning. “I already told some lady that I couldn’t take Emily.”

  I remained quiet. We had agreed on the drive here that Roy would do all the talking.

  “Because of your work schedule?” Roy asked.

  Randy looked at Roy and opened his arms. “Look at this place! I can’t raise a kid. I don’t want to raise a kid.” His voice was getting pinched and ti
ght.

  “It’s okay,” Roy said. “We’re not expecting you to raise her. We just want to make sure that you are indeed her legal guardian.”

  Randy didn’t answer. He rubbed his head and looked at us. “Look, after Emily was born my sister called and asked if I’d take her kid in case anything happened to her and I said yes because I never expected anything to happen. I just did it because I knew that’s what Tracy wanted me to say. I signed these papers because it helped her, that’s all. I never knew anything would happen.” I didn’t say it but he’d made one of the best choices of his life the day he signed those papers. “I can’t take her,” he said again. “I can’t do it.”

  “I can,” I said, leaning in. We talked for forty-five minutes and in that time Randy ate all six of the doughnuts in the bag. He was relieved to know he wasn’t legally bound to take Emily. We told him we’d call soon, and left. I walked into the hallway, leaned up against the wall, and exhaled.

  “It’s not over yet,” Roy said. “Come on.” Roy flipped open his cell phone and picked up the guardianship document we’d found in the box at Hal and Greta’s. He began to call lawyers that we ran into on a consistent basis. No one was in their offices. I was getting worried. We needed a lawyer who could help us transfer legal guardianship to Mark and me. Roy called three more numbers with no luck.

  I took the papers from Roy’s hand and read the letterhead. “I’m going to call this firm,” I said, handing him the papers.

  “If lawyers aren’t working in the city there’s no way they’re working in smaller places like Jefferson.”

  I held up my hand and dialed information. “This is for Jefferson,” I said, waiting. “Yes, I need the number for a law firm called Layton and Associates.” During the first year of Emily’s life, Tracy had lived in Jefferson. She chose a lawyer based on location. She wanted one that was close to her brother’s side of town so it would be easy for Randy to sign the papers. I was connected to the number. It began to ring. I paced the sidewalk in the front of Randy’s apartment building, trying to break ice with the heel of my shoe. I let the phone ring and ring. No one was working. I was about to hang up when it clicked.