Christmas Blessings: Seven Inspirational Romances of Faith, Hope, and Love

by Leah Atwood

  Ryan shook his head. “You and your fairy tales.” Then he winked. I don’t think he’d ever done that before. Maybe his older brother taught him how since Nick was dating now.

  “They’re not fairy tales, and I’m not talking about rewriting history.” I could hear the defensiveness in my tone. “Kara says Amelia Earhart’s story is romantic. And Staci thinks the whole Titanic saga is, too. Go figure.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, in the book, it talks about how Amelia made a homemade ramp. Then she attached it to the roof of her family’s toolshed. Her version of a runway, I suppose. She climbed in a wooden box and then…” I made a soaring gesture and then dipped my hand in a downward spiral.

  “No way!” When Ryan gave me a broad grin, I knew we were thinking of the same thing—the time we strapped cardboard “wings” to our arms with belts and tried to fly off the roof of his house. With Nick’s help, we’d hauled several old mattresses (their mom had quite conveniently placed them beside the curb for pickup) and positioned them for a soft landing.

  Thank the Lord we survived our own foolishness.

  “What happened next? Was she hurt?” Ryan twisted around on the step to face me.

  “The wooden box broke apart during the flight. She got a bruised lip out of the deal, and her dress was torn, but she had a blast and said it felt like flying. Amelia considered that experience her first documented flight.” The corners of my mouth curled and I nudged Ryan’s arm. “I’m glad we’ve stuck to safer pursuits since our flying experiment.”

  “Me, too,” Ryan said. “And I’m glad Mom put those old mattresses out for pickup. Hey, remember when we slid around my basement floor in our socks? That was way better than a skating rink.”

  “Sure. That was pure genius.” Ryan’s mom had asked him to clean their basement, including polishing the bookcases. Some of the polish got on the linoleum floor by accident. Ryan discovered it when he fell and hit his elbow hard on the ground, but the idea was born. He used a whole can of lemon furniture polish on that basement floor.

  I couldn’t stop my grin. “You are so weird, genius or not. I remember how your mom made us scrub and mop the entire floor the next day to make up for it.”

  “Yep, and totally worth it. We had fun.” He winked again. What was up with that?

  I nodded. “Without a doubt.”

  “Well, I’d better get moving,” Ryan said. “I promised Mom I’d ride over to Keeley’s and get a carton of eggs. Grade A Extra Large. She’s making a cake for the church supper tomorrow night. I made an egg sandwich earlier and used all the eggs, so I owe her.” The boy did love his fried egg sandwiches with mayonnaise and a slice of American cheese.

  “You might want to slow it down on the bike if you want to keep the eggs intact,” I cautioned. “Cakes don’t taste the same without eggs. Trust me. I tried it once.”

  “I remember that cake but speed has nothing to do with it. Hey, are you making anything for the church supper, Sass?” If he dared to wink again, I might have to bop him.

  “I learned my lesson,” I assured him. “Don’t change the subject. You know what I mean.”

  “I do, but no promises.”

  I rolled my eyes. “When you start driving a car, at least promise you’ll be careful. I’m sure even an Indy 500 race car driver would tell you the same thing.”

  “Fine, Mom. I promise to think about it, okay? Just remember—I might be fast, but I’m careful.” Ryan jumped to his feet and then hopped down from the stair. Standing on the sidewalk, he watched me for a long moment. “You know that thing you said about making a difference?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, I think you’ve already touched more people than you know. Bye Ellie.” He ducked his head as though he was embarrassed.

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open, as Ryan took off on his bicycle.

  Almost a year later to the day, I sat on my front step reading when I heard squealing tires. Then nothing. Within seconds, there was shouting. “Somebody help! Call 9-1-1!” a woman screamed. Sounded like it came from Poplar Street, the street behind ours.

  With sickening clarity, I knew it was Ryan.

  Chapter 5

  ~~♥~~

  “What happened next?”

  I turned in my chair beside Cora’s bed to find two of the nursing aides—Krista and Pam—standing in the doorway.

  “Sorry, Ellie,” Krista said. “I hope you’re not mad, but we were passing by in the hallway and couldn’t help but overhear.”

  Pam nodded but said nothing although her cheeks colored a pale pink. She lowered her gaze from mine.

  “I’m not mad,” I reassured them. “Talking about Ryan is therapeutic for me. Even if I start talking about something else, it seems my thoughts always come back around to Ryan.”

  “Of course. That’s only natural since he’s uppermost in your mind right now.” Krista’s expression was kind. “Please go on and forget we’re here. I’d like to hear what happened if you don’t mind.”

  My phone signaled an incoming text message. I held up one finger. “Hold on a second. It’s Ryan.”

  “By all means,” Krista said. “We’ll leave and give you some privacy.”

  “No, you can stay. This won’t take long.”

  I started packing today.

  I smiled and typed my response. A little early, isn’t it? ☺

  Not soon enough, Sass. Where are you?

  In Cora’s room. Talking about you. Are your ears burning?

  That explains why they’re warm. Love you, Ellie.

  You, too. Isn’t it late there? Or early? Glancing at the clock on the wall, I calculated the 8-1/2 hour time difference between Cleveland and Afghanistan. Since I never knew where he was at any given time, we’d agreed that—at least for now—Ryan would be the one to initiate the text messages.

  Yeah, but I’m awake and thinking of you. Nothing new.

  Bye, my love.

  Bye, Ellie. ♥

  “Ryan doing okay?” Pam said. “Judging by your smile, I’d say so.”

  “He’s great, thanks.” I slipped the cell phone back into my purse. “Now, on with the story.”

  ~~♥~~

  Ryan always cut through his backyard on his bike to get to Poplar Street. With my heart pounding in my chest, I ran as fast as I could. Rounding the bend, my eyes welled with tears at the sight. Ryan was sprawled in the middle of the road, writhing in pain, his right leg twisted at an odd angle.

  Thank you, Jesus. At least he was alive and conscious. Ryan loved his new bike, but the red metal was twisted, scraped, and bent beyond repair.

  A big white car sat in the middle of the street. The driver’s door was open, the engine idling, and a middle-aged woman leaned over him. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over, her voice thick with apparent regret as she wrung her hands. “I didn’t mean to hit him. He came out of nowhere and swerved in front of me. By the time I saw him, it was too late.”

  The woman gave me a quick glance as I crouched on the opposite side of Ryan. “Should I touch him? I don’t know what to do.”

  “No, better not. Not his leg, anyway.” I prayed under my breath that she wouldn’t hyperventilate. Her skin was very pale, almost white, and her lips were tight and drained of color.

  “Ma’am, do you have a phone?”

  “No, sorry. I hate cell phones.” She tilted her head and surveyed me. “How old are you?”

  “Just turned thirteen.” I leaned close to Ryan and gently brushed his dark bangs to one side of his forehead, away from his eyes. They’d grown long over the summer. “Ryan, can you hear me?”

  He stared at me as though in a daze. “Yeah, Sass. I hear you,” he rasped between groans. The right side of his face was scraped and bleeding as well as his right elbow. Thank goodness they only looked like surface wounds.

  “Is your mom home?”

  “Nah.” He groaned and shook his head. “She’s at the library.”

  My mind raced. Should I run back home to
use the phone? Surely one of the neighbors was home. I couldn’t believe no one else had come running outside with the commotion, but it was mid-morning on a summer day. Other than birds chirping, the only sounds came from air conditioning units up and down the quiet residential street.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said to Ryan and then fixed my gaze on the woman. “Stay with him and I’ll go get help. Don’t you dare leave.”

  She nodded, and I could see her swallow. “Okay.”

  I hated to leave Ryan in the middle of the street, but someone had to take charge and she didn’t seem so inclined. I took off at a run, praying the whole time that Cora was home.

  “Mrs. Brown!” I rang the doorbell several times in succession since she was somewhat hard of hearing and didn’t wear her hearing aid like she should. Using my fists, I pummeled them on the front door loud enough so she could hear, especially if she was out back on her sun porch watching her “stories” (her term for soap operas).

  Within a minute, Cora answered my insistent knocking and peeked out the front door. “How nice to see you, Ellie.” As soon as I explained what had happened and asked to use her phone, she opened the door wide.

  “Oh my! That sweet Sullivan boy. By all means, dear, come right on inside.”

  A couple of minutes later, after I ended my conversation with the emergency operator, Cora pressed a folded, damp paper towel into my hand. “Here you go, honey. You let me know if you need anything else.”

  Thanking her, I flew back down the street again. The woman who’d hit Ryan sat on the curb, absently chewing on a fingernail, staring into space.

  Ryan groaned and bit down on his lip so hard it started to bleed. He struggled to sit up, but I placed one hand on his chest and told him to breathe deep, in and out.

  “Try and stay still,” I said, attempting to keep my voice calm. “Your leg is probably broken, and if you keep squirming, you’re only going to make it worse.” I had no idea what I was saying, but I figured it couldn’t hurt. I hated to see my friend in such agony.

  “I think you’re right.” He grimaced and then winced as I cleaned his wounds using as gentle a touch as I could. Then he gripped my arm, not in an attempt to stop me, but because he was gritting his teeth in pain. I stopped my ministrations and cradled his head in my lap.

  “Thanks, Sass. You’re…a…great nurse.” I’d never seen Ryan’s eyes so full of pain. His dark lashes fanned across his tanned cheeks as he closed his eyes and moaned again. Perspiration dotted his forehead and he panted.

  “Welcome. Just rest. Help is coming.” I leaned my head against his and began to pray as I heard the siren of an emergency vehicle in the distance. The woman rose to her feet and moved to the center of the street. At least she’d finally snapped out of her near-catatonic state. I felt sorry for her, but my primary concern was Ryan.

  “Dear Jesus, please be with Ryan and ease his pain,” I said. “Be with the EMTs and”—I darted a glance at the woman who was now blathering nonstop as the workers jumped out of the ambulance—“be with the lady who hit him. Give her comfort, Lord. Most of all,” I said, the hard lump in my throat making it difficult to speak, “thank you that Ryan is okay. I ask these things in the name of our precious Savior, Jesus.”

  I don’t know why, but I kissed his forehead.

  “Amen,” Ryan murmured, and he opened his eyes. After gently releasing my hold on him, I backed away so the EMTs could move beside Ryan. They lowered a stretcher to the ground and then crouched beside him to assess his injuries. After answering their questions, Ryan reached for me. I stepped forward again and grabbed hold of his hand.

  “Stay with me, Sass. Please.”

  “Okay, but I need to call your Mom.”

  “Yeah,” he murmured. “Hope she doesn’t freak.”

  I answered questions about the name, address, and telephone number of the “victim” from the first EMT—Kent based on the embroidered name on his shirt. I hated hearing Ryan called a victim, true or not.

  “Can I use your phone or walkie-talkie or whatever?” I said to the EMTs. “I need to call my friend’s mom to let her know what’s happening. She can get kind of high-strung sometimes, so it might be better if I’m the one to tell her.”

  Kent stared and me and then nodded to the second guy. “Give her your phone.”

  Pulling it from his pocket, the man—the embroidered name on his shirt read Tony—asked me for the number. “How old are you?”

  “Thirteen. How old are you?” Why did people keep asking me that question? Still, it was no reason to be rude. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “You’re okay,” he said with a grin. “I’m twenty-four. You got an older sister?”

  “Yes. Two of them.” That question seemed even creepier.

  “I like your spunk, kiddo.” After punching in the phone number I gave him, Tony handed me his phone as both EMTs attended to Ryan. They positioned boards on either side of his right leg to stabilize it. Yep, it was broken all right. I watched as they tied long strips of cloth around the boards to keep them in place.

  Ryan’s mom, Mary, took the news better than I thought. I tried to keep my voice steady as I relayed the basic facts about what happened in as few words as possible. Then I handed the phone back to Tony. “She’s three minutes away.”

  Tony spoke with Mary and, sure enough, Ryan’s mom arrived a few minutes later. She talked with the woman who’d hit Ryan. The poor lady still appeared pretty upset. I was impressed by how Mary stayed calm and consoled her. I’m sure she was mad or upset, but Ryan’s mom demonstrated remarkable grace that day. I’ll never forget it.

  I stood in the middle of the street, watching, not sure what to do next. A police officer arrived—Bobby Mercer’s dad—to take an incident report. He asked me a couple of questions, and I answered them as best I could even though I hadn’t been an eye witness to the accident.

  Trying not to cry, I watched as they loaded Ryan onto the stretcher and then lifted him into the back of the ambulance.

  “Ever consider a career in emergency medicine, little lady?” Kent asked me as he closed the back doors.

  “No,” I said with a touch of defiance mixed with sadness. Ryan hadn’t wanted me to leave him, but the guys wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance because I wasn’t family. Besides that, I was a minor. I made Tony promise to tell Ryan that I’d wanted to go with him in the ambulance but they’d told me it was against the rules.

  Tony saluted. “You got it, kiddo.”

  “Ellie.” Mary put both hands on my shoulders. “You are so smart and brave. The men and Mrs. Rogers”—she angled her head to the woman—“told me how you took charge of the situation. Thank you, sweetie. Come and visit Ryan when he’s out of the hospital. You can keep him company.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  Mary gave me a quick hug and then climbed into her car, prepared to follow the ambulance to the hospital. Sergeant Mercer finished taking his report and asked Mrs. Rogers if she was okay to drive. After assuring the police officer she could, she glanced at me and mouthed Thank you.

  I nodded and forced a small smile. Then I slowly walked home, feeling oddly bereft.

  Although I was thankful I’d been able to help Ryan, and I was glad he would be okay, I still felt…helpless. And helplessness is one of the things I hate more than anything.

  Chapter 6

  ~~♥~~

  Stopping my story, I glanced at Cora in her bed. The only sound in the room was the steady hum of the machine hooked up to her, keeping her alive. “I’m so glad you were home that day.”

  I couldn’t imagine being confined to a bed for a day much less a year. Ryan and I had agreed that we didn’t want to be kept alive by artificial means if it ever came to a quality of life issue. Nick had drawn up our wills before Ryan left for Afghanistan this last time. We’d signed them along with other estate planning documents. We’d also taken out universal life insurance policies and opened a joint checking and savings account. And we co-owned
the house.

  Since Ryan wasn’t coming home until a few days before the wedding, we wanted to have as many details as possible handled in advance. I planned to change my name on all the legal documents after we returned from the honeymoon.

  Since we’re getting married during the holiday season (you never know when our local courthouse staff will close up shop if they’re not busy, or have to walk the dog, or need to visit the beauty parlor), Ryan had signed a power of attorney to Nick. Having a future brother-in-law who is a respected lawyer in town is a definite advantage. He’d researched the legalities of getting a marriage license while Ryan is stationed overseas. So, when Nick accompanied me to the courthouse, that process thankfully went off without a hitch.

  I breathed a big sigh of relief on the courthouse steps once that was crossed off my list.

  “You’ve loved your fiancé a long time, haven’t you?”

  I glanced up to see Krista standing in the doorway, her eyes damp. Pam was nowhere to be found. Krista had moved to the area within the past year with her husband and three kids, so she couldn’t know my long history with Ryan.

  I smiled. “For as long as I can remember. But don’t tell Ryan that. It’ll swell his head.”

  Krista dabbed beneath her eyes with a tissue. “It’ll be our secret. And you’ve known Cora a long time, too, I’m guessing?”

  “Yes. Cora’s been a widow for a long time, and she was home most of the time. She had her routine of going to the church service every Sunday morning and prayer meetings on Wednesday nights. Her husband had been a cabinet maker, and when we entered first grade, she presented the kids in the church with a small cedar chest. She told us to call it our Prayer Box, Wish Box, Hope Box, Remembrance Box, or whatever we wanted. And then she encouraged us to put things inside the chest that meant something deeply personal to us.”

  “Let me guess,” Krista said, stepping farther into Cora’s room. “You filled your box with things that remind you of Ryan?”