On Christmas Eve

by Thomas Kinkade

  He sighed. “Okay. I’ll try it. If she wants to. But if it doesn’t work out, no more arguments or schemes to keep her here, understand? What if my mother changes her mind and decides to come up here for Christmas after all? That’s her room. Where will she stay?”

  The room did not belong to Charlie’s mother. She had not paid a cent toward the renovation, and there was no brass plaque with her name on the door. Lucy considered pointing out these facts to her husband but instead said, “Your mother sounded pretty set on her plans. And you know how she is once she decides on something.” Just like her son, Lucy nearly added. “Besides, the social worker is looking for a new foster home. Zoey will be gone soon anyway.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Charlie said. “I don’t get it. You seemed fixated on this girl for some reason, Lucy. I know you have a soft heart for every stray animal and lost soul that comes your way. But this is different. I don’t understand it,” he confessed.

  Lucy couldn’t deny it. What Charlie said was true. She didn’t quite understand it herself. This girl had touched her heart in a deep place, hit some hidden buttons. Maybe it really was a rescue fantasy, as Rita said. Or maybe she just enjoyed having another female in the house—having a girl that would be about the same age as a daughter?

  “I know what you mean. I don’t quite get it either,” she admitted. “I just want to help her. And why does the reason matter so much after all? She’s not going to be here very long—a week or so maybe. Let’s just try to do the right thing. That’s enough of a reason for me,” she added.

  Charlie sighed but didn’t say anything more. The boys had left the table, and Charlie started talking about Christmas, asking Lucy when she thought they should put up their tree and wondering what the boys wanted this year for their gifts. There was so much to do before Christmas. Lucy didn’t know how she would get it all done in time. But every year, somehow, she did.

  After she cleaned up the kitchen, Lucy went upstairs to see Zoey. The girl was sitting cross-legged on her bed and the TV was on, but she seemed to be doing some sort of art project. Lucy saw a pile of pages torn out of magazines and cut into little pieces.

  Zoey was arranging a few of the cut-out bits on a sheet of paper, securing them in place with pieces of tape. She looked up suddenly when Lucy came into the room, as if she had been caught doing something wrong.

  “Hey, there. You woke up. Did you eat dinner?” Lucy glanced at the tray on the bedside table. Most of the food was gone.

  “Yeah, it was good.”

  “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” Lucy sat in a chair near the bed. “What are you making? An art project?”

  Zoey shrugged and looked away. “It’s just something I do when I’m bored. I make these collage things. My grandma was really into crafts and scrapbooks. She sort of taught me.”

  “That’s neat. I can follow a pattern for sewing, but it takes real talent to do something right out of your head.” Lucy leaned over to get a better look at Zoey’s creation. “Can I see?”

  Zoey glanced at her curiously then turned the collage so Lucy could get a better look. It really was interesting, Lucy thought. There was a mixture of photos from ads—women’s faces and bodies, as well as things like flowers, food, and animals. And in between the cutouts, Zoey had done interesting drawings, pulling it all together. A woman’s body with a cup-cake instead of a head. Another face with flowers in the place of the eyes.

  “Wow . . . this is pretty amazing,” Lucy said. “What do you do with these things when you’re done? Put them in a book or something?”

  “A book?” Zoey grinned, as if she found that idea pretty funny. “I don’t save them. Most of the time. I just toss them out or they get lost.”

  “Really? I think you should save them. Gee . . . I would frame this and hang it somewhere.”

  “Yeah, right.” Zoey clearly didn’t believe her.

  “I would,” Lucy insisted. “It’s really beautiful. I’d hang it in the living room.”

  “Okay, when I’m done, you can have it,” Zoey said, sounding as though she were practically daring Lucy to keep her word.

  “Great. I’m going to remind you, if you forget,” Lucy promised. She paused, gathering her thoughts as she remembered what she had really come to say. “I guess if you feel good enough to do artwork, you’re on the mend,” she began. “It’s going to take a while longer to get your full strength back. But Charlie and I were talking. We thought that once you do feel one hundred percent, it would be good if you had something to do. Someplace to go every day. . . . You told me that you didn’t want to go back to school. Do you still feel that way?”

  Zoey’s body grew tense, her eyes hard. “I’m not going to any kind of school. Just forget it. Did Mrs. Schuman tell you to ask me that?”

  “No, not at all. That was my own crazy idea,” Lucy said, trying to get a smile out of her.

  She almost succeeded, but not quite.

  “Well, you told me once you wanted to make some money. Do you want to get a job? Just a few hours a week. Just something to keep you busy?”

  “A job? Like where?”

  “The diner always needs help. I wondered if you wanted to try waitressing. You could earn some decent tips, especially during the holidays.”

  Zoey shook her head. “No way. I don’t want to do that.”

  Lucy didn’t want to push it. “That’s okay, I understand. What about some other type of job? Maybe one of the shops in town needs Christmas help.”

  Zoey looked a bit more interested in that idea, Lucy thought. Maybe she was afraid to work for Charlie. They had definitely gotten off on the wrong foot, and he hadn’t been very welcoming to her.

  Zoey twisted her mouth, thinking. “I don’t know . . . I’m not really the salesgirl type.” She held up a blue strand of hair. “Who’s going to hire me?”

  “Plenty of people—if you have a good attitude and do your best.” And dress a little more conventionally, Lucy wanted to add. But she thought she ought to save the fashion tips for later.

  Zoey considered for a moment, then shook her head again. “I don’t think so.”

  Lucy waited, hoping the girl would change her mind. Finally, she said, “Then I’ll have to call Mrs. Schuman tomorrow and tell her that you feel better and are ready for a permanent placement. Is that what you really want—to move somewhere else? To a different family?”

  Zoey didn’t answer. She looked down at her hands and examined the chipped polish on her stubby fingernails. “I’m always moving to a different place. That’s no big deal for me,” she told Lucy. “What’s the difference? Call Mrs. Schuman. I don’t care.”

  Lucy didn’t believe that for a minute, but she didn’t know what to say. “All right, Zoey. I’ll call her. You ought to turn off the light soon. You still need your rest.”

  Zoey glanced at her, her expression softening. “Good night, Lucy . . . I’m sorry I’m such a slug. I know you’re just trying to help me.”

  Her simple words and sad tone touched Lucy’s heart. She wanted to step over to the bed and wrap the child in a hug, but she knew that would be too much.

  Lucy sent her a warm smile instead. “I do want to help you, sweetie. I just wish I knew how. And you’re not a slug. Don’t ever say that, okay?”

  Zoey just sighed and studied her nails again.

  It was only a little past nine. Lucy knew she could call Rita Schuman if she wanted. The social worker had told her to call anytime. Rita might have found a placement by now and might just be waiting for the girl to be healthy enough to go. But Lucy knew that once she called, that might be it. Zoey would be gone from her life. And Lucy couldn’t quite face that.

  AT THE HOSPITAL THE NEXT MORNING LUCY WAS SO BUSY SHE HAD A temporary reprieve from dealing with Zoey’s situation—until her morning break rolled around. Then Lucy knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She had to call Rita Schuman. Her supervisor kindly let Lucy borrow her office for privacy, and Lucy slowly dialed Rita’s nu
mber.

  Rita picked up right away. “Hi, Lucy. How’s everything? How is Zoey doing?”

  “Much better than the last time we spoke.” Rita had called to check on Zoey over the weekend. “She’s really coming along,” Lucy reported. “She’s a lot more energetic, and the congestion is all cleared up. You know how kids are. Give them a little medicine and they spring right back.”

  “They are resilient,” Rita agreed. “I’m glad to hear she’s recovering. I’ve been working on her placement. I may have something for her.”

  “Oh, really? When will you know? Should I tell Zoey?” Lucy tried to sound calm but couldn’t totally hide the distress in her voice.

  “I’d rather not say anything until we’re certain,” Mrs. Schuman said. “But it should all be confirmed in a few days.”

  That was quick. Zoey might leave by the weekend, Lucy realized. She had known there was a chance of it happening like that, but to hear it said aloud was still a shock.

  They hung up, and Lucy gazed out the window into the hospital courtyard. It had benches and pathways for walking. Small flowering trees bloomed there in the spring. But today it looked dreary and empty, reflecting the feelings in her heart. Lucy couldn’t wait for the day to pass so she could go home again. Any time left with Zoey now seemed precious to her. She wasn’t sure how she had come to feel so attached to the girl in such a short time—but she did.

  She was on an early shift again today and would be home by four. She and Charlie had decided it would be a good night to set up their Christmas tree. Charlie had picked out the tree with Jamie on Sunday, over at Sawyer’s tree farm. It was ready and waiting in a bucket of water out on the porch.

  Decorating the tree was one part of Christmas that Lucy always enjoyed. But it would be a bittersweet night for her this year, with Zoey there, Lucy realized. Still, she had to be grateful for what she had. At least Zoey could share in this little part of the holidays with them.

  TAKEOUT FOR DINNER WAS PART OF THE TREE-TRIMMING RITUAL. LUCY loved not having to cook. When she got home with two boxes of pizza, Charlie already had the boys bringing the decorations up from the basement. Some living room furniture had been moved aside, and the tree set in its stand, with the usual old sheet underneath and the tree robe over that.

  “So far, so good,” Lucy said, surveying the scene. Jamie was working on the lights, untangling a strand and testing them out in the circuit box. “Where’s Zoey?” she asked him.

  Jamie shrugged. “She’s up in her room, I guess. I haven’t seen her.”

  Lucy went up to the third floor. Zoey’s door was partly closed, and she could hear the TV on inside. She knocked lightly and then walked in. “Hi, Zoey. How are you doing?”

  “Okay.” She turned to Lucy and smiled. “A little better, I guess.”

  “We’re having pizza for dinner and decorating the Christmas tree. Would you like to come down and join us?”

  Lucy didn’t want to sound too eager, but she did want Zoey to spend at least one evening with the family. This seemed like the perfect time.

  “Is your tree real? I mean like, totally? Or the fake kind?”

  “It’s totally real,” Lucy assured her. “Charlie just put it in the stand and it’s making the whole house smell like pine. I’m surprised you didn’t smell it all the way up here. Come on down and see,” Lucy coaxed her. “There won’t be any pizza left if we hang out here much longer.” She had bought two, but she knew that C.J. could practically inhale a whole pie on his own.

  “Um . . . okay. I’ll come down. For a little while.” Zoey turned off the TV and slipped off the bed. She was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants Lucy had loaned her. The set was a little baggy, but she looked cute.

  Back downstairs in the kitchen, Charlie and the boys had already started on the pizza.

  “Hey, guys, leave some for me and Zoey,” Lucy called out. “It’s not a race.”

  Charlie nodded at Zoey, a slice dangling from his hand. “Hi, Zoey. Feeling better? You look pretty good,” he said. “Your color is better.”

  That was true, but Lucy couldn’t help but think the compliment came from Charlie’s relief that the girl would soon be gone. She had called him during the day and told him about her conversation with Rita. It was easy to be nice to her under those circumstances.

  Jamie’s greeting was more sincere. He quickly calculated that they were short a seat and jumped up from his chair. “Here, Zoey. You sit here. I’ll get the stool.”

  Zoey sat between Lucy and Jamie. The boys talked about school, but Zoey picked at her slice and didn’t say a word. She felt awkward, Lucy realized. She hoped the girl wouldn’t run upstairs again.

  “Okay, let’s get to it. It’s getting late,” Charlie said, rising from his chair.

  “I fixed all the lights, Dad,” Jamie said, running ahead. “Come and see.”

  C.J. followed his brother. Lucy gathered up a few of the paper plates and dumped them in the trash. Zoey picked up the dirty glasses and brought them to the sink.

  “Thanks, honey. Let’s just leave this stuff,” Lucy said. “I’ll do it later. Come inside, help us with the tree.”

  Zoey allowed herself to be led along by Lucy’s light touch on her arm, but she stopped as soon as they reached the living room doorway. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I think I need to go back upstairs.”

  “Just for a minute or two. You shouldn’t lie down with a full stomach,” Lucy advised her in a nurselike tone.

  “Zoey, check this out.” Jamie ran over to her with one of his favorite ornaments. It looked like a chocolate-glazed donut. “Doesn’t that look real? I bet if I put this on a plate, C.J. would try to take a bite,” he teased his brother. C.J. grunted at him but ignored the jibe. Lucy thought he seemed pretty quiet tonight. She guessed he was feeling self-conscious around a real, live girl his own age. He was acting a little more mature and self-restrained, she noticed. This could definitely be a good thing.

  Zoey took the donut ornament and looked it over. “Pretty cool. It does look real.”

  “Wait . . . this is another good one.” Jamie ran back to one of the boxes and took out another of his favorites, a shiny red baseball with Red Sox 2004 written in gold.

  “It’s from the World Series, when the Sox broke the curse,” he explained in a knowing tone.

  “You were only four, dweeb. You don’t even remember,” C.J. cut in.

  “I remember,” Jamie insisted. He turned to Zoey. “I do.”

  “I believe you,” she said quietly. She glanced at Lucy with a he’s-really-cute look.

  “Let’s sit over here, Zoey, on the couch. There’s plenty of room.” To Lucy’s surprise, Zoey didn’t protest but sat down beside her on the couch. “I like to watch more than I like to hang,” Lucy confessed, “though there are a few ornaments that are definitely mine. I have a really nice angel collection,” she told Zoey. “We didn’t unpack that box yet.”

  After Charlie hung the lights, C.J. and Jamie hung most of the ornaments. Then Jamie found Lucy’s box of angels and brought it to her.

  She opened it carefully and checked to see that none were broken this year. She always packed them well, but you never knew. “Here they are,” she said to Zoey. “Take a look. They’re all different, but I like to find a nice spot and put them up together. Like a flock of angels, watching over us,” she explained.

  “Oh, geez, here we go with those angels,” Charlie mumbled to himself. Lucy just laughed. “Where’s my Celtics stuff?” Charlie asked. “Anybody see Kevin Garnett? And that big cheeseburger and fries?” Charlie stood in the midst of the boxes, trying to find his own favorites, which mainly consisted of sports symbols and diner food.

  Zoey dutifully peered inside the box Lucy held out. Then Lucy saw the expression on Zoey’s face change. “Wow, those are pretty,” she said.

  Lucy took one out and let it dangle from the tree hook. “Here, you help me hang them. Pick a spot.”

  Zoey sat back, seeming unwilli
ng to take the ornament from her. But Lucy insisted. “Go on. I see a few good places toward the top.”

  Finally, Zoey took the angel and walked to the tree. She took a few moments choosing the right branch then fastened the hook. The blue and gold ornament dangled from the pine bough, looking very pretty, Lucy thought.

  “Good choice. I’ll do one now. And you take another,” Lucy said, passing the box back.

  A short time later, Lucy’s collection hung in an attractive arrangement. While the boys finished hanging the rest of the ornaments and Jamie set up the crèche below the bottom branches, Lucy made hot chocolate and brought it in along with some chocolate-chip cookies.

  “Not bad,” Charlie said, sitting back in the armchair. “I like all those white lights. That was a good idea,” he added.

  “My idea,” Jamie piped up.

  Charlie picked up his chocolate and reached for the cookies. Then he lifted the plate and offered them to Zoey. “Have a cookie. They’re really good. I made them myself,” he teased her.

  Zoey looked at him strangely then realized he was joking. She smiled a little. “Okay, I’ll try one.”

  She sat back and munched on the cookie, glancing around as if she expected someone to notice her at any minute and ask her to leave. Lucy hoped she was having a good time with them.

  LATER THAT EVENING, WHEN THE BOYS WERE DOING THEIR HOMEWORK and Zoey was in her room, Lucy grabbed a shopping bag that she had stashed in her bedroom closet.

  She went up to the next floor. “Hey, Zoey. I just wanted to say good night. I’m glad you helped us trim the tree. I hope you had fun.”

  “I did,” Zoey said. “I don’t remember doing stuff like that with my real family,” she confided.

  At least we could give her that before she leaves, Lucy thought.

  “I saw this in a shop in town and thought you might like it. It’s nothing really,” Lucy added, offering Zoey the shopping bag. “I mean, my feelings won’t be hurt if it’s not right. But it looked cute in the window. Sort of reminded me of you.”