A Wish for Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Yes, yes, that’s what they both say, over and over and over again.” Lillian stared down at the carpet, a sulky expression on her face.

  “Your daughters have busy lives, just as it should be. Children and husbands. Jobs and responsibilities. You can’t expect them to be here every day, doing for you—or drop everything when you have the least little problem.”

  “When do I ever ask them to drop everything for me?”

  Ezra tilted his head back and laughed. “You’re not seriously asking me that question, are you?”

  “If I call upon them once in a great while, is that a crime? Does that mean I must employ some meddling somebody, hovering over me? Some dreadfully annoying babysitter and bodyguard? Is that how I’m supposed to endure my final days in this world?”

  “Why must you paint such a grim picture? I’ll give you an even grim mer one, if you like. You get your way and remain all alone in this house, no bothersome intrusions. You fall again, the way you did three years ago. You were lucky that time, Lily. Sara came by and found you,” he reminded her. “But what if no one had come? You would have been lying there for hours, possibly days . . .”

  Before she could come back with a clever reply, he added, “Anyone with common sense would realize that they dodged a bullet that time. You might not be so lucky if you cling to this foolish notion of total independence and it happens again.”

  Lillian shifted in her seat. It had been awful to fall like that and lie there in pain, so helpless, wondering if anyone would come. She hated to think about it.

  She drew in a long, shaky breath. “Thank you, Ezra. I think you’ve made your point.”

  “Have I really?” he persisted. “I don’t think I’ve changed your mind any. Look at me, Lily. I have a live-in housekeeper who’s been with me now for years. Mrs. Fallon is a lovely woman, does everything for me. I couldn’t survive without her. What’s so wrong with that, can you tell me, please?”

  “Absolutely nothing,” Lillian snapped back sharply. “If it makes you happy, I say, bravo.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” Ezra replied with disgust.

  “Really, Ezra. I hope you and your housekeeper are very happy together. Why don’t you take her to Egypt? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired. I think you had better go.”

  Ezra stood up, gave her one last exasperated look, and headed for the front door. “Now that you mention it, I’m tired, too. Tired of arguing with you, Lillian. You’ve worn me out.”

  She felt her cheeks get warm at this, though she didn’t know why. What did she care about Ezra’s opinion? She never did and never would.

  He paused at the entrance to the foyer and glanced back at her. “I’ve known you all of my adult life, Lily. You’re one of the most intelligent women I’ve ever met—and easily, the most pigheaded. Don’t you get it? We’re all concerned about you.”

  Lillian stared straight ahead. “Can I show you out?” she asked in her frostiest tone.

  “Don’t trouble yourself. I know the way out by now. I’ll be sure to lock the front door. Please check the side door before you go to bed and put the alarm on.”

  “Yes, Ezra, I will. Good night now.”

  “Good night, Lillian.”

  She sat in the parlor, listening as he put on his coat and hat then firmly closed the front door behind him.

  She could tell by the way he had said good night that he wasn’t really mad at her. He would be over it by tomorrow. That’s the way he was, fortunately.

  For goodness’ sake, she had expected more sympathy from him when she told him how Jessica and Emily had cornered her. But she didn’t want Ezra angry at her, too, when she was really all alone here.

  And why did people keep reminding her of that fact? Over and over again, like a recorded announcement. She was going to scream if she heard it one more time.

  Lillian rose to check the side door and set the alarm.

  Didn’t the fools realize she knew how alone she was now? Better than all of them.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE FOUR WEEKS OF ADVENT WERE REVEREND BEN’S FAVORITE time of the liturgical calendar. While every season had its own spiritual meaning and inspiration, Ben loved Advent best because it seemed to resonate with such great anticipation and hope, encouraging all to put forward their better selves.

  He loved the way the sanctuary looked this time of year, decked out with pine garlands and a Christmas tree to one side of the pulpit. He loved the blue banners that hung on either side of the altar, delivering messages of faith and peace, the rich color reflecting the midnight sky over Bethlehem.

  A crèche had been set up on one side of the altar, with all the figures of the great story present, except for the infant, who would be added to the tiny wooden cradle on the big night. On the other side of the altar stood the Advent wreath, four candles surrounded by an array of fresh greens. Two of the candles were lit so far. One for last Sunday, and one today.

  Each Advent Sunday, at the start of the service, one family in the congregation was invited to the altar, where they would light the candles and recite the traditional prayers.

  The Sawyers had come up this morning, Jack, Julie, and Kate. Ben wished that David was at church today for this special ceremony, but he wasn’t surprised by the young man’s absence. It would be some time, he thought, before he would see David in church again. If at all.

  When it was time for “Joys and Concerns,” the segment of the service when the congregation shared their celebrations and worries, Ben saw Jack slowly raise his hand. Ben nodded to him at once. Jack was a shy man, not usually prone to speaking in church.

  Jack stood up and cleared his throat. “I’d just like to ask for a few prayers for my son, David. We’re still so thankful that he’s home safely. But his injuries are serious. He’s started physical therapy and he’s got a long way to go. I have to say, he’s feeling very discouraged right now.”

  Jack quickly sat down again. Ben saw Julie take his hand.

  “Thank you, Jack,” Ben said. “I’m sure we all wish David progress with his recovery.”

  Laura Miller, who was sitting in the back of the church waved her hand, and Ben quickly acknowledged her. “Oh, gee,” she began, “I don’t know where to start—”

  Ben gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s all right, Laura. Please start anywhere.”

  “Well, last week our fridge broke down. It made the most awful sound, then it just died. We couldn’t afford to have it fixed. It wouldn’t have paid, it was so old,” she added. “And with Paul still out of work, we can’t afford a new one. I posted a sign on the bulletin board last week, to see if anyone had a used fridge to sell or donate. I didn’t get any calls, and I didn’t think anything of it. But when I came to church on Wednesday afternoon, the card was missing.”

  Ben sighed inwardly. This was getting long, and he did need to finish the rest of the service. “Go on, Laura. Please?”

  “Oh, yes . . . sorry. Well, this is the amazing part. On Thursday morning last week, a truck pulls up at our house and two deliverymen come right up to my door with a brand-new refrigerator. I thought it was a big mistake, some kind of strange coincidence. In fact, I was laughing at them at first. Then they showed me the paperwork—all paid for and it really had my name on it. But they wouldn’t say who bought it or sent it . . . or anything,” she added. “I even called the store, but no one would tell me. They said it was paid for in cash and they weren’t permitted to tell.”

  Ben hadn’t expected the story to wind up that way. “What an amazing story,” he said. “What a wonderful gift for your family.”

  “Isn’t it?” Laura’s cheerful composure suddenly slipped and for a moment, Ben thought she was going to cry. “It’s been very difficult for us these past few weeks. I know it has to be someone in the congregation who sent that wonderful gift. I just want you to know how much it means to us. I just want you to know how very grateful we are. God bless you, whoever you are.”

  “Yes, bl
ess you for your generosity,” Ben echoed quietly.

  Ben continued the service, but he could see that Laura Miller’s story had sent a ripple through the sanctuary. He was still thinking about it as he said the final prayers.

  When the service ended, Ben stood outside the big wooden doors and greeted everyone as they left. He saw Laura Miller near the front of the line, looking eager to speak to him.

  Grace Hegman and her father were the first in line, however.

  “Very nice sermon, Reverend,” Grace said as Ben shook Digger’s hand.

  “Why, thank you, Grace.”

  Grace seemed unusually cheerful this morning, Ben thought. She was typically such a reserved woman, he wondered what had gotten her in such a good mood. His sermon hadn’t been that uplifting.

  “Yes, nice service,” Digger echoed. “I like seeing these young families light the candles. And how do you like that story about the refrigerator?” he added with a laugh. “Don’t that beat all? Now who could’ve done a thing like that?”

  “I have no idea. It is very surprising,” Ben agreed.

  Before Digger could say more, Grace took her father’s arm. “Thank you, Reverend,” she said curtly, sounding more like her usual self. “We have to hurry home to open the store. Have a nice day.”

  She whisked her father away and steered him out of the church before Ben could say good-bye.

  When he turned, Laura Miller stood next in line.

  “Laura, it seems Christmas came early to your house.”

  “I’ve never had a surprise like that in my life. I nearly fainted. It was just like winning a game show or a sweepstakes,” she said. “It’s been such a big boost to our family. We feel so much more hopeful about things now. If something like that can happen out of the blue, who knows? Other good things can happen, too, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Ben had to agree.

  Laura smiled at him. “If anyone knows who did that for us, it’s you, Reverend. Come on. Couldn’t you just give me their initials?”

  “I have no idea who did it, Laura. This is the first I’ve heard of it, honestly.”

  Laura shrugged. “Well, maybe someday we’ll find out and we’ll be able to thank them properly.”

  “I hope that person was here today and saw how pleased you are. I’m sure that would be very gratifying for them.”

  “I hope so. It’s funny, but that gift landing on our doorstep out of the blue, it’s made me want to do something nice for someone else. For someone I don’t even know,” she confided. She seemed surprised by this reaction but Ben wasn’t. Before he could reply she said, “You mentioned in the announcements that the church is starting up a program to send food out to people in need?”

  “Yes, we are,” Ben replied. “It’s just starting up. I think the group had their first meeting last week.”

  “I’d like to help out and do some cooking,” Laura said.

  “That would be great. Sophie Potter is coordinating everything. I’m sure she would welcome your help.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go look for her.” Laura Miller said good-bye and moved on.

  Reverend Ben turned to greet the next congregation member in line. Lillian Warwick was approaching slowly with the aid of her cane and her daughter Emily.

  He braced himself for some backhanded compliment about his sermon or critique of the way the sanctuary had been decorated. Lillian Warwick had never been shy about making her feelings known. He wondered briefly if Lillian might have been Laura Miller’s benefactor—and immediately dismissed the idea. Though Lillian certainly had the means to send each family in the church a refrigerator, he was almost sure she had not been the anonymous donor.

  Then he caught himself for such an uncharitable thought. He didn’t know that for sure. It could have been Lillian. It could have been many church members.

  A real mystery, he thought. Life was full of mystery, wasn’t it? God likes to keep us on our toes.

  I’ ll have to keep my ears open, Ben decided. Such a grand gesture couldn’t remain a secret for too long. Many people start off thinking they don’t want recognition for a good deed but later find it’s disappointing to remain without notice or thanks.

  The mystery Santa would soon make his or her identity known. Ben felt certain of it.

  AS IF THE GRUELING THERAPY SESSIONS WERE NOT ENOUGH, GENA HAD sent David home with a set of huge rubber bands for stretching his arm and leg muscles, and a set of hand and ankle weights for keeping up his exercise over the weekend.

  He worked out in his bedroom, where no one could see his pained expression or the sweat dripping down his forehead during the simple routine.

  He had just gone into the kitchen for a glass of water when he heard a tapping sound on the windowpanes of the back door. The tree stand had been insanely busy this weekend. But his father had purposely left a sign there this morning, before the family left for church, so that David wouldn’t be disturbed.

  David was sure that some pushy customer had decided his father’s polite words didn’t apply to them.

  David made his way to the door with the walker and soon spied Christine through the window. Sunday morning was her surprise visit time, it seemed. Twice in a row and she still caught him off guard.

  She had on a purplish-blue hat today, pulled down over her blond hair. The shade of the wool matched her eyes.

  What could he do? Just like the last time, he leaned over and opened the door to let her in.

  “Hey,” she said quietly.

  “Hey, yourself,” he answered.

  She looked him over. “Are you working out or something? I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “More in the something category. I just finished up.”

  He knew he looked sweaty, his T-shirt sticking to his chest. He had a towel around his neck and quickly wiped his face. “I was just getting a glass of water. Can I get you anything?”

  “No thanks.” Christine sat at the table and watched him at the sink. He felt clumsy and tried not to fumble too much as he balanced the water while moving along with the walker.

  She turned away, maybe realizing she had been staring.

  He was glad she didn’t jump up and offer to help. That would have been worse. He finally made it to the table and sat down across from her. He was surprised to see her, even though he had been thinking about her all week. He had thought about calling her or sending an e-mail, just thanking her for dropping by last Sunday. But he never got around to it; he wasn’t sure what he would accomplish by staying in contact—and drawing out the agony.

  “So, how’s it going?” he said. “Still like school? Think you’ll stick with it?”

  She smiled at his teasing. “I don’t like it very much this time of year. Too many finals and papers to write.”

  That did sound tough, David thought. But if she was so busy studying, it didn’t leave much time for her boyfriend, did it? There was a happy thought.

  “I think you’ll do okay. You never minded studying. Not like me,” he reminded her.

  “You seemed to get good marks anyway,” she replied. “I was such a grind, and it killed me when we got the same grades.”

  Her recollection made him laugh. “That is so not true.”

  “Yeah, it is. You’re pretty smart, David. You just don’t want too many people to know. You don’t want people to see you that way, or you need to keep it a secret or something.”

  David stopped to think about that observation. Was he really like that? Something about it felt uncannily true.

  Christine opened the buttons of her big shearling jacket. She looked so cute and cuddly with the lambswool around her face, David felt like reaching over and putting his arms around her.

  “I was cleaning out my bookcase and I found this book I thought you might like.” She took a paperback from her coat pocket and held it out to him. “Remember that writer we used to like in high school, Tony Hiller man? Those mysteries in the southwest,” she reminded him.

  “Sure,
I remember him. Those books were great.”

  “This is the last one he wrote, The Shape Shifter. Have you read it?”

  David took the book and stared down at the cover. “No, but it looks good.” He felt touched that she had remembered such a thing. “Thanks. Thanks a lot. That was really nice of you.”

  She seemed embarrassed. He saw her cheeks redden, and she looked away.

  “It’s okay. I was going to toss it otherwise. I thought it was pretty good, though. Let me know what you think.”

  “I will,” he said.

  “So, what have you been up to?” she asked, suddenly changing the subject. “Did you start physical therapy?”

  “Yes, I did. I’m going five days a week.”

  Christine looked impressed. “That sounds intense.”

  “Yeah, it is,” he admitted. “The sessions take a few hours. I’m working like a dog just to get rid of this walker. I may never get the feeling back in my foot again, though. I may never walk normally.”

  He wasn’t sure why he added that. He hadn’t planned to. It just came out. He watched to see her reaction.

  Christine looked surprised. “That’s not what your father told me.”

  “My father doesn’t know the whole picture—or maybe he just doesn’t want to face it.”

  Christine pulled her hat off then fiddled with it on the top of the table. “At least you’re alive, David,” she said after a moment. “When I hear stories about the way some men and women come back—”

  “Yeah, I know,” he interrupted her.

  He not only had heard the stories, he had been on the ground, while it was happening. Didn’t she realize that?

  Still, he felt touched by her concern. She worried about him while he was away, David realized. She really cared about him. But that made it even harder to sit here, facing her. It wasn’t enough to be alive. It wasn’t enough to offer her, David thought angrily.