A Wish for Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  The idea that she bought him something too made David happy. But he wondered if he would even be in town by next week.

  “That’s all right.” He shrugged and smiled. “I’m just happy that you like your present. . . . I need to tell you something.”

  “What?”

  This was hard. He didn’t know how to explain it without hurting her feelings or having her think badly of him. “I’ve decided to leave town. After Christmas.”

  “Oh . . . so soon?” She looked so disappointed and surprised. He could tell it wasn’t what she had expected him to say. “Don’t you need to stay longer for your therapy?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. I can continue pretty much anywhere.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t really know.” He caught her clear blue gaze a moment and then looked away.

  Rerun of their senior year in high school, he thought. She had to be thinking the same thing: Wouldn’t he ever grow up?

  Before she could say anything, he added, “My dad and Julie have been great, but I need to get out on my own now. They don’t need me here anymore, either.”

  “I see.” Christine nodded, hugging her bag to her chest. She slipped the little velvet box into her knapsack pocket and zipped it up. “Well . . . good luck. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for, David.”

  I did find it. I’m looking right at it, he wanted to say.

  “Good luck with all your plans, Christine. With school this year and . . . the wedding.”

  “Thank you.” She held out her hand, and he took it in both of his. But somehow, he ended up drawing her closer, his arms wrapping around her in a hug. Which would have still been all right, he thought later, if she had not hugged him back so warmly, so that he couldn’t resist putting his hand on her cheek and holding her face a moment to look at her and then, kissing her the way he wanted to all these weeks.

  He wasn’t sure how long they stood there. But finally, the sound of a car pulling up nearby broke his trance.

  He slowly stepped back and let her go. She stared at him a moment, looking sad and confused. Then she turned, got into her car, and drove off.

  David felt as if his heart had been torn from his chest, attached to the fender of her car, and was now being dragged down the road.

  He would never get over Christine, he realized. She had always been the only one for him.

  LILLIAN KNEW WHAT THE PARTY WOULD BE LIKE, AND WHEN SHE arrived, escorted by Emily and Dan, she found it very much to her expectations. Too many people, too much noise, too many sugared-up children, running around like wild animals. Later, when the herd of guests attacked their presents, she would want to hide under a table.

  But she couldn’t insult her daughter and son-in-law. She had to make an appearance, at least for a little while. Jessica, understandably, wanted to show off her new house. It was a lovely house, well built, too, as Lillian knew. She had financed most of it.

  She recognized the usual suspects—Sam’s sister Molly and her husband, Matthew Harding, the doctor who had taken over Ezra’s practice in town.

  They were the first to greet her. “Hello, Lillian. Merry Christmas,” Molly said. “You look well.”

  “So do you,” Lillian returned.

  Molly did look good. Success agreed with her. She had made a good catch with this second husband, and her catering business was thriving. Lillian didn’t care much for Molly’s food, but others in town obviously did. According to Jessica, Molly was now thinking of opening a restaurant.

  “Merry Christmas, Lillian,” said Matt. “How is Dr. Elliot doing? I hear he came home on Tuesday, but I haven’t been able to visit him yet.”

  “He is home but needs to rest. He can’t have many visitors. He tires easily,” she reported.

  “Please give him our best,” Molly told her.

  “I certainly will, thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I think I see my granddaughter. Sara has just come in.”

  Lillian slipped past Matt and Molly, and headed for Sara, whom she had spotted at the far side of the room.

  “Grandma, I didn’t see you in this crowd.” Sara ran over to her and gave her a gentle hug.

  Lillian hugged her back. “When did you get here? Was the drive all right?”

  “We came this afternoon. I wanted to help Aunt Jessica get ready, and we’re going to stay over here. There’s no room at Mom’s house.”

  “There’s room at my house,” Lillian reminded her. “Your old rooms. I haven’t rented them out yet.”

  She felt hurt that Sara had not asked to stay over with her. Was she so easily forgotten?

  “I know, Grandma. But Mom said you were over at Dr. Elliot’s a lot, helping him, and it might be inconvenient for you to have company.”

  “Oh, well . . . that’s true.”

  Since Ezra had gone into the hospital on Saturday night, she had been with him every day. First visiting at the hospital, and then helping at home, though he did have his very capable housekeeper, Martha Fallon. But Mrs. Fallon was not exactly company, not someone who would sit and read the newspaper to you, or a good book. Or work on a crossword puzzle and argue about the news.

  “How is Dr. Elliot? I felt so bad when Mom told me he was sick,” Sara said sincerely.

  “He’s coming along,” Lillian conceded. “He had a scare, and he must change some of his bad habits. I’m trying to help him.”

  “I can’t think of a better candidate for that job,” Luke said, coming up next to Sara. Lillian gave him a dark look, but he just laughed and said, “Merry Christmas, Lillian.”

  “Merry Christmas to you. Have you found any employment up in Boston yet?”

  “As a matter of fact, Luke was offered that job at the New Horizons Foundation, starting up new facilities. He’ll be traveling all over the country,” Sara explained. “He starts next week.”

  “Really? Well, good luck. Don’t blow it. It’s obvious you’re not that easily employable,” Lillian added under her breath.

  “Grandma, what a thing to say,” Sara scolded.

  “I’m just observing what I see.” Lillian checked her watch. It felt as though she had been at the party all night. It had barely been twenty minutes. Jessica was bringing out more trays of hors d’oeuvres. It seemed the entrée would not be served for hours. Lillian hated that. She picked up a glass of ginger ale and sat down in a chair near the Christmas tree. Everyone around her was talking and laughing. She could only think of Ezra, all alone tonight at home. Even Mrs. Fallon was going to leave him right about now to visit her family.

  He always came with her on Christmas Eve. Ezra was better at socializing, getting into the spirit of the thing. It helped to have him here, made it so much easier for her, she reflected. She wondered if he missed it this year. She hadn’t even asked him, she realized.

  “Mother, are you all right?” Jessica stood leaning over her, her hand on Lillian’s shoulder.

  Lillian looked up at her. “I feel . . . bad,” she said quietly.

  “You do? Do you feel sick?” Jessica quickly crouched down to talk to her face-to-face.

  “No, not that way.” She shook her head. “It’s a lovely party, Jessica, as always. Christmas with all the trimmings, just like a magazine cover. But . . .” She took a breath. “I feel bad for Ezra. He’s all alone tonight after his horrible scare. Just out of the hospital and—”

  “You want to be with him, is that it?”

  Lillian nodded, her chin trembling. “Yes, I do. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to insult you. It’s not very good manners to just up and leave a party.”

  Jessica stood up again and patted her mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mother, I’ll find someone to take you over to Ezra’s house. I’ll pack up some food for you. Would you like that?”

  Lillian brightened. “Very much, thank you. Nothing spicy, of course,” she quickly added. “Ezra is on a very restricted diet. I imagine Mrs. Fallon has made his meal, so not too much for us. Just a ta
ste or two.”

  Some of Molly Willoughby’s specialties were bound to be on the menu, she guessed, and that woman had a very heavy hand with the spices.

  A short time later, Sara and Luke delivered Lillian to Ezra’s door. She had called ahead, and he was waiting for her. He opened the door and ushered her inside.

  “A visitor on Christmas Eve. How classic,” he said. “It’s practically . . . Dickensian.”

  “Indeed,” she agreed, slipping off her scarf.

  “Did you miss me at the party?”

  Lillian took off her coat and laid it on an armchair. For a brief moment, she considered telling him the truth. Then she decided that was just silly. No need to get all maudlin.

  “Nonsense. I thought there should be someone here, to make sure you didn’t go off your diet while Mrs. Fallon was out.”

  “Oh, so you didn’t trust me alone with the trifle Mrs. Fallon made for me? All those layers of custard and cream.”

  Lillian was horrified. “She made you a trifle? Is that woman mad?”

  Ezra laughed. “Of course, she didn’t. I’m teasing you, Lily. She used to make one for me every year, but all I got tonight was an angel food cake and some sugar-free Jell-O.” He made a disgusted face.

  “That’s more like it,” Lillian said approvingly. “There’ll be some coal in your stocking yet, if you don’t watch yourself.”

  Ezra chuckled and took a seat on one of the couches.

  “Would you like me to get you anything? A cup of tea?”

  “Tea would be nice, thank you,” he said. “But sit awhile. Don’t run off yet. Let’s just talk. You look very fine tonight,” he noted, as she sat down on the couch next to him. “I like that dress. It’s very becoming.”

  “Oh, this is an old dress, Ezra. I’m surprised you don’t recognize it. It’s very warm, that’s why I chose it. Jessica keeps her house cold as ice, though there’s always a big fire going. I hear that all the heat in the house goes up the fireplace. It’s a grand waste of energy if you ask me.”

  “I’ve heard that, too. But a big, roaring fire is so nice on a winter’s night. Especially at a Christmas party. Aren’t you sorry to be missing your daughter’s big get-together?”

  “Not really. So much noise and confusion, everyone talking at once. I don’t find all that hubbub very enjoyable. Never really did. I know my daughter and her husband believe that they’re superb at entertaining, but to my tastes, their parties are a bit . . . overdone.”

  “But you can’t even tell it’s a holiday over here,” he pointed out.

  “Perhaps, but I do take a special pleasure ignoring it with you.”

  Lillian’s confession made him smile.

  It was true, she did feel more comfortable in this snug little house, in this peaceful, orderly setting. Maybe she was past the age of enjoying family gatherings.

  Or maybe it didn’t feel right taking part in that sort of thing anymore without Ezra.

  THIS WAS THEIR LAST BLAST. NOT THAT THEY’D USED UP ALL THE money. They still had wads of bills to spare, packed away in the freezer. Grace had kept a scrupulous account, and there was enough left to do this all over again next year. With some careful investing, they might even build on their capital over the next twelve months, she figured.

  But she didn’t see this as a year-round project. It took up too much time and energy. No, it was solely a Christmas activity. And Christmas Day was here. The clock had just struck midnight. They had decided to wait until most people had gone to bed before giving out the rest of the presents. Though some of the gifts were sent by delivery services, there were still quite a few that needed to be dropped off.

  “Do you have the map, Grace, and the flashlight?” her father asked as they left the house.

  “Yes, Dad.” He had asked her the same question for an hour now. He was stuck in a loop, it seemed.

  “The van is already loaded with the packages, and I have the list, too, right here,” she said, patting her coat pocket. “The route is planned out so we won’t backtrack. But it still might take about two hours.”

  “Let’s get going then,” her father urged. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  The roads were slick from a late snow flurry. Grace drove slowly down Main Street, her father in charge of the list and their carefully planned delivery route.

  Quiet as two mice, they crept up to dark houses and left their special surprises in empty mailboxes and on doorsteps.

  Grace was surprised that they worked through the pile of packages so quickly and efficiently, and not once had they been interrupted. A few people had spotted them—a man walking a dog, a woman coming home from a Christmas party, two teenagers, walking hand in hand down the snowy street.

  No one seemed to notice them, or think the sight of Grace and her father, dropping off gift boxes and shopping bags with bows on top in the very dead of night, was particularly interesting.

  Funny how little most people see, Grace thought.

  They still had a few gifts left in the back of the van as they headed back toward the village on the old Beach Road. Digger was reading the tags and telling Grace what was left. She checked each name against the list in her head. She must have been distracted when the animal—something big and fur covered—waddled out in front of the van.

  She shouted out and swerved, trying not hit it. And ended up running the van off the road instead.

  They bumped down a short embankment for a moment, then came to a dead stop, the vehicle tipped to one side.

  “Oh my goodness . . . Dad, are you all right?” Grace reached over and grabbed her father’s arm.

  Digger was hunched over, with one hand shielding his head. He sat up slowly and looked around. “I’m okay, I guess. Nothing’s wrong that I can notice. What in heaven’s name happened? Did you skid on a patch of ice?”

  “An animal,” she said simply. “A raccoon or a possum. I didn’t want to hit it.”

  “How good-hearted you are. We nearly ended up wrapped around a tree.” He sighed. “Well, no damage done. Let’s get out of here.”

  “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Dad.” Grace peered out the driver’s side window. “I think we’re stuck in the snow. The wheels are all at a funny angle. I’ll need a tow to get out of here.”

  Digger slapped his knee. “Of all the luck. And it’s two o’clock in the morning, bless me. How are we going to get a tow truck out here at this time of night? How will we finish giving out all those presents?”

  All good questions, Grace thought. Before she could answer any of them, a sharp beam of light flashed in her eyes. She put her arm in front of her face and peered outside. She couldn’t see a thing.

  “What in the world?” her father muttered.

  Then a face appeared at the window on her side, and she heard tapping on the glass. It was Officer Tulley. Was he working on Christmas?

  She rolled down the window, happy to see him. “Oh, Tucker. We had a little accident. I turned the van quickly to avoid hitting an animal and just skidded right off the road. Can you help us?”

  He stared at her, looking very surprised and confused, she thought. But this sort of thing must happen often out here. She had heard this was a dangerous curve in the road.

  “Is anyone hurt? Should I call an ambulance?”

  “Oh, no. We’re both fine,” Grace assured him.

  “Just shook up a bit is all,” Digger told him with a short laugh. “It was silly of her, really.”

  “And what are you folks doing out here at two in the morning? Coming back from a party somewhere?”

  Grace was surprised by the question. Everybody in town knew they didn’t socialize much anymore. Her father’s illness made it difficult to be in large groups or unfamiliar places. Not that they had ever received that many invitations.

  But now that Tucker had asked, she didn’t know what to say.

  “We were just out . . . taking a little ride, looking at Christmas lights,” she explained. “Dad lo
ves to see everyone’s decorations.”

  “Christmas lights? At this hour of the night?” Tucker squinted at her.

  “That’s right.” She nodded. “He couldn’t sleep. It soothes him.”

  Tucker didn’t answer. He peered into the back of the van. “Nice load of gifts back there, Grace. Looks like Santa’s sleigh.”

  “That’s nothing. You should have seen it when we started off,” Digger bragged. “It was piled so high, she couldn’t even see out the back window.”

  Oh, dear. That did it.

  Grace watched Tucker’s expression as he quickly processed the information. Tucker was not like most people, who didn’t really listen to what her father said anymore. He did listen. He did try to make sense of it. He was making perfect sense of it right now, Grace could see.

  “Come on out of the car, you two,” he coaxed them. “This Secret Santa operation is busted.”

  Tucker extended a hand and helped Grace from the driver’s side. She felt so embarrassed to be caught. “Oh, Tucker, you won’t tell, will you?”

  “Your secret is safe with me, Grace. But you two are headed home, so climb in the cruiser. I’ll get you back to town.”

  Digger came out of the passenger’s side, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem right. There’s a load of presents still to give out. Folks really need that stuff, too. We had it all planned. Old Mrs. Bartow needs that electric blanket. Her house is so drafty—”

  “All right, all right.” Tucker raised his gloved hands in surrender. “I get off my shift at five a.m. I’ll finish the deliveries for you then. Will that do?”

  Grace smiled. She had been worried about the same thing but didn’t have the courage to speak up. “Thank you, Tucker. That would be perfect.”

  “That’s the spirit, son.” Digger patted the police officer on the back. “Even Santa Claus needs a little help now and then. Give him the map, Gracie.”

  “DAVID, WAKE UP! SANTA CAME. HE CAME!”

  David opened his eyes to see Kate jumping up and down beside his bed in her pink flannel pajamas. As if the shouting wasn’t enough, she was also clapping her hands.