With a muted sigh, she acknowledged she was too old to believe in Santa. Or sit on his lap, for that matter.
What a pity.
Chapter Eight
JAMES AND FERN SAT TOGETHER ON THE COUCH while a CD played “Joy to the World” in the background. Strings of lights, boxes of ornaments and tinsel were scattered around the room. The scent of fresh greenery perfumed the whole house.
James had sawed an inch off the bottom of the floor-to-ceiling fir and secured the tree in its base. When Gideon’s friends arrived for their hoops game, they happily joined in the spirit of the season to help decorate the tree.
“Hey, Gid, is this you when you were a baby?” Scotty Duran held up a see-through ornament with a photo inside.
Gideon flushed. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Nice hair, baldy.” All the boys laughed.
Gideon’s cheeks turned a deeper red.
Pete Montague picked up another ornament. “What’s with this bird in a nest? That go on the tree too?”
“Yeah,” Nelson said. “Mom bought that when we stayed in a cabin in Minnesota. Every place we vacationed, she bought a Christmas ornament so we’d remember the trip. Our Christmas tree’s almost like a 3-D scrapbook we pull out every year.”
James winked at Fern and took her hand. “Good memories too. All of them.”
“They are. I just wish we could build more memories like that before the boys are grown and gone.”
“We will. Dr. Chopra will tame your MS and you’ll be able to travel again.” They hadn’t taken a family vacation in three years because of Fern’s progressive disease. James held out small hope they’d find a cure for MS in Fern’s lifetime. But controlling the worst of the symptoms seemed within the reach of modern medicine.
Nelson left the rest of the tree decorating to the older boys and found the box containing the nativity scene. He cleared off an end table and moved it to a prominent spot near the fireplace where it could be seen from both the living room and kitchen.
After setting up the stable, he carefully removed each figure from the box—the three wise men and three shepherds, a donkey, a cow and an angel to watch over baby Jesus, placing them in the scene. Then came Joseph and Mary and the manger.
The song on the CD switched to “Away in a Manger” sung by a lilting soprano.
Nelson reached into the box one more time. “Mom, do you want to do the honors? Put baby Jesus in the manger?”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “That’s usually your job, Nelson.”
The boy looked at the small ceramic figure in his palm. “I’ll help you.” His words were a plea, a prayer that his mother could still take part in the family’s Christmas traditions. A heartfelt wish that her illness didn’t exclude her from the life he’d always known.
James saw Fern hesitate, torn between fulfilling her son’s wishes and the knowledge of her own weakness.
“I’ll help too,” James said.
“I’ve never felt so unstable and wobbly.”
Why haven’t the new meds kicked in yet? “I won’t let you fall.”
Standing, James took her arm. Gideon appeared beside her as well, and the room grew silent except for the soprano voice asking the Lord Jesus to stay by her side.
Together, James and Gideon slowly walked Fern across the room to Nelson and the nativity scene. James willed Fern not to fall, not to stumble. He held his breath until his lungs ached.
Nelson placed baby Jesus in his mother’s trembling hand and guided her hand toward the manger. Together they placed the baby in his cradle.
“Good job, M-mom!” His voice cracking with emotion, Nelson beamed at his mother’s accomplishment.
James knew his son’s joy was tempered by a fight against the same tears that burned unshed in his own eyes.
When they’d all finished eating dinner and were still sitting around the kitchen table, James announced that he wanted to have a family meeting.
Gideon glared at Nelson. “Are you in trouble again?”
“Not me,” Nelson protested. His head swiveled toward his mother. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”
“No, honey. You’re fine.”
“No one’s in trouble, and no one has done anything wrong,” James said. “Except maybe me. There’s something I should have told you.”
All eyes turned toward him. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “There’s a reason why I tried to talk you two into getting a smaller, less expensive tree this year. Starting January first, the hospital is cutting my salary. Not by a huge amount but enough that we’ll notice the decrease in income.”
Two sets of youthful blue eyes widened in unison.
“Are we broke, Dad?” Nelson looked pale and very worried.
“No, not broke. But we will have to cut back some and be careful how we spend our money.”
“Your father’s worried because my meds are so expensive.”
“Yeah, but you can’t do without those,” Gideon was quick to say in support of his mother. “I can do without a lot of stuff. I mean, I don’t need anything for Christmas.”
“Me neither,” Nelson added. “I’m too old for Santa anyway.”
James smiled at his boys. “I think it’s safe to say there will be presents for you to unwrap on Christmas morning. I’m thinking more along the lines of saving money by turning off lights when you’re not in the room. Taking shorter showers. That kind of thing.”
“I’ll skip showers altogether,” Nelson volunteered. “That’ll save a bundle.”
Fern waggled a finger at her son. “Oh, no you won’t. I don’t want any smelly, sweaty boys in my house.”
Barely suppressing a teasing grin, Nelson shrugged. “I’m just trying to help.”
Gideon picked up Fern’s dirty plate and placed it on top of his. “I could get a job for after school. Maybe as a busboy or a job sweeping up at the grocery store. Lots of kids work part-time.”
“You have to be sixteen for jobs like that,” James pointed out. “Besides, you have your ROTC activities and your studies should be your priority anyway.”
“But if I had a job, you wouldn’t have to give me an allowance for stuff like lunch at school and downloads to my iPod.”
Nelson sat up a little straighter in his chair. “I know what I can do. I could talk to some neighbors and ask them if I can walk their dogs.”
Leaning forward, Gideon tapped the table in front of his brother. “We could both shovel sidewalks this winter and mow grass in the spring. A lot of the neighbors are old. I bet they’d pay us real good.”
Excited, Nelson said, “And we’d be partners, right?”
“Right. Gideon and Nelson, Inc. We could make up some business cards on the computer.”
Nelson frowned. “How come your name has to come first?”
“Because I’m older.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Okay, so we’ll do it alphabetically. It still comes out Gideon and Nelson.”
Nelson’s scowl deepened.
“Whoa, boys.” Fern held up her hand. “Why don’t you call yourselves the Bell Brothers? That would cover it.”
They both looked at her as if she’d just invented the idea of pairing peanut butter with jelly.
A warm sense of pride filled James’s chest. He should have told the boys about the pay cut earlier. They’d taken the news like real men, searching for ways to overcome adversity together.
Thank You, Lord, for the insight into my sons’ character and for blessing me with two fine young men who are growing straight and true in Your image.
Candace lay in the queen-sized cherry sleigh bed she’d picked out with Dean, staring into the darkness. Unable to sleep, she remained poised, ready to act, if Brooke had another nightmare. She worried that her child had regressed in her youthful battle with grief over the loss of her father. An issue Candace thought had at least been eased, if not resolved, through counseling. It made her sick at heart to think of Brooke still going through
all that emotional pain.
From the bedroom down the hall, she heard her daughter whimper, and she was on her feet in an instant. She hurried to Brooke’s room.
The blankets were a tangled mess, half on and half off the bed. Brooke was on her knees, her face smashed into the pillow, her rear end sticking up in the air, the way she used to sleep as a small child.
“Shh, honey.” Candace straightened the bedclothes. “You’re having another bad dream.”
Brooke muttered something unintelligible.
“Mommy’s here. Everything’s all right.” She eased Brooke flat on the bed, straightened out her legs and pulled the covers over her again. With the thermostat turned low for the night, the air felt chilled. “Go back to sleep, honey. It’s all right.”
Brooke’s lips moved but no words came out, only a long exhale.
Within moments, the dream released its hold on Brooke. The lines of tension in her face relaxed. Her mouth sagged open. Candace brushed the damp curls back from her daughter’s forehead.
“Sleep, baby girl,” she whispered. “Sweet sleep.”
She continued to sit on the edge of the bed until she was sure Brooke was sound asleep, then she slipped out of the room. She met her mother in the hallway.
“Another bad dream?” Fresh from her own bed, Janet wore a lilac-colored velour robe and her gray hair was mussed.
A sick feeling knotted in Candace’s stomach and she was on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Mom. I don’t know what’s upsetting her so.”
“I think you’d better take that child back to her counselor.”
“You’re right.” She hated to spend the money, but there was something very wrong going on with Brooke. She needed to get to the bottom of her daughter’s troubles, whatever the cost. “First thing Monday morning, I’ll call Tony Evans, ask if he has time to see Brooke.”
Tony had done wonders with Brooke, helping her to deal with her grief after Dean’s death. Candace hoped the counselor would be equally successful this time. If that was the current problem.
Her own experience in grief counseling and working with Lila, her counselor, had helped her through some bad days that would have previously debilitated her. She still went to group meetings regularly.
Yet she still grieved. Her pain was lodged so deep inside her; it was like a festering wound that continued to poison her life.
She couldn’t let that happen to her baby girl.
Chapter Nine
JAMES GROANED AS HE CRAWLED OUT OF BED ON Monday morning, leaving Fern sleeping peacefully—at last—after another bad night.
December mornings were darker than an underground tunnel designed to hide insurgents from US forces.
He made his way down the pitch-black hallway to the bathroom and switched on the light. He squinted. Maybe he wasn’t all the way awake yet because the vanity lights over the mirror seemed dim. Usually they were—
He glanced up. Sure enough a bulb had burned out. Sighing, he decided to live with it for now. Later he’d ask one of the boys to change the bulb while he was at work.
He finished shaving, dressed and went downstairs, heading directly for the automatic coffee brewer. He poured himself a cup of—
Water? Plain water. Plain, icy cold water.
He stared at the coffee brewer. No red light. He was sure he’d set it to start brewing at five thirty.
He punched the On button. Still no red light.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. Not having a cup of coffee at home wasn’t a big deal. He could always stop by the drive-through to get a cup of java on the way to work.
What he didn’t need was the unexpected expense of a new coffeemaker to replace a broken one.
He was pouring himself a bowl of cereal when Gideon arrived in the kitchen. He’d pulled on an old gray sweatshirt over his pajama tops and was barefoot.
“You’re up early,” James commented.
“We’ve got a ROTC drill practice this morning.”
“During your winter break?”
“Yeah.” Gideon opened the refrigerator and retrieved a gallon of milk.
“Do me a favor, son. After you get back home, change the lightbulb in the upstairs bathroom. One of them has burned out.” James spooned some cereal into his mouth. “I’ve got to stop on the way home from work to get a new coffeemaker. Ours conked out this morning.”
Cereal box in hand, Gideon gave his father a curious look. “Dad, the coffeemaker’s unplugged.”
James’s head came up. He frowned at his son. “Who unplugged it?”
“I did. Well, Nelson and I did. Appliances that are plugged in all the time are big drains on the electrical system even when they’re just sitting there. Unplugging the coffeemaker will save us money.”
Jaw slack, James gaped at the boy. “But I like having my coffee ready when I come downstairs.”
Shrugging, Gideon poured his cereal and added a generous serving of milk, then filled a glass with more milk. “Okay by me. But you said you wanted to save money.”
That was true. James hadn’t thought it would interfere with his morning routine. “What about the upstairs bathroom. Did you take the bulb out?”
Gideon pulled out a chair at the table and sat down. “Not me. I think Nelson did.”
James thought back over his morning. The hallway had been particularly dark as he walked to the bathroom. He frowned as something clicked.
“The night light in the hallway. Did you unplug that too?”
“Yeah.” His son scooped a heaping spoonful of cereal into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of milk.
“That was only a three-watt lightbulb. We’re not going to save much by unplugging that. Besides, Mom needs it.”
“Okay. But it all adds up, Dad. A few watts here, a few watts there. We learned about energy consumption and power grids in science class and how it’s good to conserve our natural resources when we can.”
Mentally, James searched for an argument that would return the household to its former status quo and allow him, in good conscience, to have his coffee ready when he came downstairs.
James couldn’t think of any except that he wanted his coffee.
What he’d done by explaining the family’s financial situation to the boys was to create a two-man Power Police Force right in his own home.
“I’m gonna take my shower at school later,” Gideon said. “That’ll cut down on our natural gas bill by not having to heat the water.”
James didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head on the kitchen table.
Most of all, he was proud of his sons for taking his words to heart. Perhaps a little too much to heart, but they were on the right track.
As James rinsed his cereal bowl, Nelson entered the kitchen and the overhead light went off.
“Hey,” James complained. “There are people here in the kitchen.”
“The light over the sink’s good enough.” The boy grabbed a bowl and a box of cereal. “Mrs. Murphy asked some of us to come by school and help finish painting the sets for the play today. I thought I’d go over some of my lines while I’m there.”
“Fine.” James looked up at the lightless ceiling. If the boys kept this up, he’d have to buy everybody night-vision glasses just to walk around the house without bumping into things. “Have you got your stuff ready for the Scout meeting tonight?”
“Not yet. I’ll do that this afternoon.”
James planned to check everybody’s camping gear to make sure it could handle below-freezing temperatures during their overnight trip in January. He didn’t want to end up with kids suffering from frostbite. Not while he was in charge.
Anabelle sat at the computer at the nurses’ station. Between the holidays and employee vacations, putting together a schedule for the nurses in her Cardiac Care Unit was a complicated jigsaw puzzle. Not all the pieces were going to fit.
No, she corrected herself. It was more lik
e a Sudoku puzzle. Nothing added up.
Peering through her reading glasses at the monitor, she tried to will the schedule to take shape.
It didn’t work.
“You’re squinting. Be careful or you’ll get permanent wrinkles.”
Startled from her concentration, Anabelle looked over the top of her glasses at Diana Zimmer, standing on the other side of the counter.
“Trust me, my wrinkles are already permanent, and putting the weekly schedule together is giving me even more gray hairs. Not that I need any extra help in that department. I’ve already got more salt than pepper.”
She called Ace to come behind the counter and gave him a good scratch between his ears, her fingers working their way through his thick winter coat.
“Ace, ol’ buddy, you are exactly what I need. A faithful friend who asks nothing of me except a dish full of food and a warm place to sleep.”
As though responding to her words of praise, Ace wagged his tail.
“Does that mean you’ve talked Cameron into getting a puppy?” Diana asked.
A renewed wave of disappointment struck Anabelle. Removing her glasses, she slid them into the breast pocket of her lab coat. “I’m afraid not. I tried to talk to him last week about a dog, but he’d hear none of it.” Well, he had taken her for a walk after church yesterday. As pleasant as the experience had been, however much she enjoyed being with Cam, that wasn’t what she’d had in mind at all. She wanted them to walk a dog together.
“I’m sorry to hear he’s still not interested.” Diana plucked a hard candy from the dish on the counter. Ace looked up expectantly, but she gave a little tug on his leash, and he sat back on his haunches. “I volunteered at the County Animal Shelter on Saturday. Someone had brought in the cutest puppy, a mix of German Shepherd and who knows what. The friendliest little guy you’d ever want to meet, and I thought of you.”
“Oh dear…” A spear of regret lodged in Anabelle’s chest and her lips tensed. “If he’s as cute as you say, I’m sure someone will adopt him.”
“Well, that’s the problem. The shelter’s full of both dogs and cats. He’s been at the shelter a week or more already. By the end of this week—”
Strength in Numbers Page 7
