by Sandra Kitt
Diane studied her nails. Her fingers were long and well shaped. Her nails short by necessity, manicured but free of polish. Free of rings, wedding, engagement or friendship.
“It wasn’t a good fit. We weren’t on the same page about a lot of things.”
“He was cute. You threw him outta bed?” The nurse was again incredulous.
Diane’s answering smile was faint. “That wasn’t it. He was just so…so…straight.” She struggled to find the right word. “He was nice and all that, but…”
She stopped and frowned, realizing she was about to make an honest confession that she would later have regretted. It didn’t help that in the middle of the nurse’s probing and her defensive dodging Hale Cameron again came to mind, disrupting her thoughts.
She was seeing Hale as he’d momentarily stood alone and unaware of being observed by her, or anyone, at the end of the gala in Baltimore. She was reminded of when he was nineteen, not long after he’d appeared in her life and become her nemesis.
He had a provocative, strongly defined physique on the cusp of becoming a man. He stood and moved his body in an arrogant posturing way back then, as if he were fully aware of his own assets but wanted to give the impression that he wasn’t. But sometimes, Diane recalled, when he didn’t know anyone was watching, Hale could seem almost shy, even awkward. That night a few weeks ago, she’d caught a glimpse of that same momentary uncertainty, all pretenses under wraps.
“I guess I’m too busy to concentrate on a relationship right now,” Diane said restlessly, forcing the memory to recede.
“That mean you’re coming alone to the holiday party?”
“I…have other plans,” she improvised.
“Then you should at least stop upstairs before you leave.”
“What’s upstairs?” Diane asked, again pulling out her BlackBerry to check for messages. She stood reading one, frowning over its contents.
“The kids’ party up on six. Santa’s coming in to meet them and give out presents.”
Diane turned off the phone. “I’m glad you reminded me. I have some things in my car.”
Pushing away from the counter, Diane walked toward the elevator. She spoke briefly to colleagues she met in passing, listening to excited plans for Christmas and New Year’s, and being asked about her own. She made them up as required.
Without stopping to get her coat, Diane left the building and walked to her car in the staff lot. It was a cold, overcast day, promising rain or snow. She opened the trunk of her car and removed a shopping bag from which protruded two gifts wrapped in kid-friendly holiday paper. She started back toward the building and then suddenly stopped midstride. Returning to her car, Diane opened the driver's side and climbed in, shutting the door behind her. She absently placed the bag on the other seat, pulled out her phone and made a call. She sat with her eyes closed waiting for the connection, thinking about what she was going to say.
“Hi, Eva. It’s me.”
“Diane. Honey, is everything okay?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t get back to you right away…”
“I know you’re very busy at the hospital but I worry when nearly a week goes by….”
Diane let her head drop back against the headrest and slouched in the seat.
“I know.” She sighed
“It’s just work, right?”
Diane gnawed on her lip, staring out beyond the windshield to the stark evidence of December and that-time-of-the-year.
“Yeah. Mostly,” she finally confessed.
There was a silence on the other end and Diane knew what was coming next. She’d hoped to avoid this conversation. Her father would have left it alone, never one to mix it up in her business. But her stepmother, in many ways, knew her better than Adam.
“I know what you’re going through right now. That’s why I want to know if you’ll be coming for Christmas. Bailey is driving me crazy asking every ten minutes when you’ll arrive.”
Diane smiled at the mention and image of her half sister.
“What should I tell her? And your father?”
She sighed. “Eva…I…don’t think I’ll make it down. I’ve waited so long to get a flight it’s going to cost me a fortune. Plus I have a couple of cases I have to keep close tabs on. Maybe I can see everyone for a weekend after the holidays are over. I mean, you live only a couple of hours from me.”
“That certainly hasn’t meant we see you any more frequently. Here’s the thing. We want to see you for the holidays, not after. We want you with us. Unless…are you going to stay with your mother this year?”
Diane shook her head even though Eva couldn’t see the action. “No, I’m not doing that.”
“I understand,” Eva murmured.
Diane knew that she did. Eva was kindness itself and would never dream of saying anything critical about Diane’s natural mother, even though it was common knowledge that Maron Fairchild was a bit of a drama queen.
“Listen. I know this is a difficult time for you, honey. One of the biggest family holidays of the year and you probably only remember Trevor telling you he’s leaving, two days before Christmas.”
Diane’s stomach roiled with exactly that memory….
At the end of a party they’d given. Their apartment had been jumping with wall-to-wall people, music and laughter. Most of their friends, an equal number of colleagues, his and hers, and even a few total strangers who’d somehow crashed. It was almost 2:00 a.m. when she’d closed the door on the last guest. Eva was wrong about one part of the story. Trevor had never told her he was leaving. After making a feeble attempt to clean up some of the debris and leftovers of their party she’d realized that it was suddenly very quiet and Trevor was nowhere to be seen.
“Trevor? Where are you? How about giving me a hand?”
She’d found him in their bedroom. Packing a suitcase.
Diane no longer remembered if he said anything just then or even what she’d said to him. But she would never forget his simple response to her annoyed accusation that he was being childish as he silently picked up the case, calmly walked to a hall closet and put on his coat. Finally, opening the apartment door.
“Goodbye, Diane.”
That was it.
You’ll hear from my lawyer had been posted in an e-mail to her several days later.
The echo of Trevor’s words still felt like a raw open wound. And just this week, a few days before Christmas, it felt worse believing she was destined to relive that awful moment, forever.
“I know you think that’s the reason, and I appreciate your concern, Eva. But the truth is, I do have some patients with serious issues.”
“I believe you but I don’t believe that means you can’t get away to spend Christmas with your family. Come down for just a few days. Leave the day after Christmas if you really have to.”
Diane silently chuckled. “You’re making me feel so guilty.”
“I hope so. You don’t need to be alone. You don’t need to punish yourself that way. Bailey is making all kinds of plans. Hayden keeps hinting at something in particular he’s sure you’re getting him. Adam wants to know if he needs to rent a second Jeep. We invited Simon and I think he’s coming, too.”
“Simon,” she repeated, surprised. “You’ll never see him. He’s going to be breaking hearts all over the island.”
“I know, but I trust your father to keep him in line, if that’s called for. And, honey, I really want to see you. Come home.”
Come home.
“I don’t want to make any promises…” Diane stopped and swallowed, stunned by the sudden lump in her throat and the uncharacteristic urge to cry. She cleared her throat. “Look…I took a moment to call you back so you wouldn’t think I was avoiding you…”
“But you were…”
“There’s a holiday party going on right now in the pediatric ward and I’m late.”
“Then go. Just don’t forget we’re all here for you.”
“Say hi to ever
ybody for me.”
“Take care, sweetie. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
Diane ended the call but just sat there. She couldn’t move just then if her life depended on it. She was a pile of tender nerves, confused emotions, convoluted but vivid memories. She felt perilously close to tears and hated that she could lose control while sitting pathetically in her car, in a hospital parking lot, just days before Christmas. Alone.
She muttered an oath and scrambled out of the car, snatching up the bag with the gifts. With her head high and any suspicion of tears swept away by the wind, Diane went to join the festivities in the children’s ward.
“Hey. You made it.”
“Hi, Ron. Sorry I’m so late but the children’s party at the hospital threw me off schedule. You probably thought I was going to stand you up.”
The burly black man, his dark face wreathed in a grin from cheek to cheek, let out a rumble of laughter.
“You could never be too late. I appreciate you could squeeze in some time for us. Come on in and sit a minute. But be careful.” Ron pointed meaningfully to a small bouquet of greenery taped just above his door.
“What is it?” Diane asked.
“Mistletoe. Only but two or three of us know what it is and what it’s for. Hasn’t been used yet.”
“Your idea, I suppose.”
“Hey, it’s a good way to teach about another Christmas tradition, right? It’s not all about the gifts and turkey.”
Diane shook her head wryly and did as she was told, maneuvering around the stacks of boxes, flyers, folders and other sundry this and that that pretty much filled Ron Jeffrey’s office. She sat on an inverted milk carton since the second chair in the office had transit files piled on it. She unwound the long scarf fashionably twisted around her neck and shrugged out of her coat. Ron squeezed his bulk around a corner of the desk and plopped into his chair. He pushed his glasses up his nose while quickly and efficiently checking e-mails on his surely about-to-die aging PC and answering his telephone. He dispensed with two calls and the messages and then pushed back in his chair to regard Diane with a warm smile.
“Thanks for coming, Diane. Hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
“You didn’t. I didn’t need to spend too much time at that party. I nearly overdosed on Christmas candy and hot chocolate.”
Ron laughed again, the sound carrying out his office door and down the halls of the shelter where a valiant attempt had been made to make the place look festive and cheerful.
“Can’t offer you hot chocolate. Milk is too expensive. But the market two blocks away donated a couple of cartons of apple juice for our party. Care to have some? I can put a little fortifier in it, if you want, against the cold,” he said, winking at her.
“Not yet.” She laughed. “I’d like to first take a look at the boy and senior resident you’re concerned about.”
“Good idea. Then you have to meet Santa Claus. If you’ve been a good little girl, maybe he’s got somethin’ for you in his sack.”
That sent him off into another peel of uproarious laughter. Diane enjoyed his spirit. He was director of the community shelter for displaced families. She’d always been impressed not only by Ron’s advocacy on behalf of the homeless, but his amazing ability to get services and favors from the most unlikely places when most other people could not. She suspected that people were afraid of Ron Jeffrey because of his size and very commanding voice. She wouldn’t put it past him to exaggerate both if it got results for the shelter. Over time she’d come to know him as the gentlest of men, and a very savvy and smart one. He seemed to deliberately let his appearance belie the fact that he held a master’s degree in not-for-profit administration.
Diane glanced around the office. “Is this the only private space?”
He shook his head, pursing his lips. “No such thing as privacy in a place like this, I’m afraid.”
“Then this is fine.”
She opened the leather satchel she’d brought with her and began to remove equipment and instruments. Without a word Ron sprang up from his desk and left the office, closing the usually open door behind him.
In just a few minutes he returned, escorting an older white woman into the office, offering Diane a quick introduction to Nan. He left, with a silent jerk of his head to indicate he’d be within shouting distance if she needed his help.
The woman was mostly silent, asking no questions, offering no earlier information, sitting passively while Diane did a basic exam of her vital signs. She didn’t even seem particularly interested in what Diane was doing. Ron had informed her that the older woman recently seemed incoherent.
Diane made quiet idle talk for reassurance to the woman who, she could well imagine, probably hadn’t seen a doctor in years. Two very simple little movements requested of the woman quickly confirmed her suspicions.
“Okay, Nan, I think I’m done,” Diane said.
“Can I…now?” the woman asked.
“Give me a few more minutes.”
The woman nodded, staring blankly into space.
Diane managed to reach the door from her position behind it, and opened it to signal Ron, who stood talking with a resident near the reception desk.
“How’s it going?” Ron asked.
“I want to get her to the emergency room tonight for a more thorough exam.”
“What’s up?”
“I suspect a ministroke. There was at least one but there might have been more. I don’t think we should wait until the morning.”
“No problem. I’ll have someone drive her over right now.”
“Good.” Diane nodded briskly.
She used Ron’s desk phone to call the hospital to alert them to Nan’s arrival and to give her authorization that she be seen immediately.
“Come on, Nan. We’re going to take you for a little ride. Would you like that?” Ron asked.
Her eyes briefly lit up and she nodded.
“Before you go,” Diane said, retrieving something else from her bag. It was a small, flat, wrapped gift she held out to the woman. “Merry Christmas.”
“Ooooh. Like. Thank…you.”
She hugged the gift to her chest, smiling for the first time.
Ron turned her by the shoulders to guide her from the office.
“That was really cool of you to have something for Nan. She has no family, far as we know.”
“It’s just a little thing. I had an extra gift after taking care of some of my staff. Where’s the boy?”
“Look, you’re going to have to go to him.”
Diane frowned. “Why?”
“There’s a party goin’ on, and he’s not about to leave right now. We got Santa and everything.”
Diane laughed in understanding. “Okay. Lead the way.”
She took only her stethoscope with her as she followed Ron. There was music and a lot of loud conversation coming from a space at the end of a corridor. The noise from the other end only got louder as they approached. There was a room to the left that turned out to be the communal dining hall.
At the back of the room, near the door, the adults stood or sat watching the excitement of perhaps fifty children and adolescents at the front of the room as they waited to meet with Santa Claus and receive a gift.
Diane couldn’t help but smile at the cheerful chaos as kids roughhoused together, or shouted to be next, or played with gifts already opened, or sat staring dumbfounded at the man at the center of attention, Santa Claus.
She began to chuckle when she realized he was the tallest, thinnest Santa she’d ever seen. Not that that mattered to the kids. He was seated in a chair raised on an improvised platform. For all their hardships and deprivations, the children clearly believed in this Santa who’d made a special trip from the North Pole just to see them.
“That’s Qa’Shawn over there. The kid jumping up and down. I told him not to do that,” Ron said, worried.
“That’s actually a good s
ign.”
“Well, let me go get him. I told him someone special wanted to meet him ’cause he passed out yesterday. He thinks he did something special,” he said, bemused.
Diane found a little spot by herself out of the way of the celebration. It was a moment before she became aware that Santa appeared to be sending covert glances at her. But then he went back to being jolly and attentive to the kids. They seemed to find it pretty cool that he was a black Santa behind the snow-white beard. He cast her another long look and then ignored her.
“Qa’Shawn, this is Dr. Diane. I told you about her. Say hello.” Ron gave the youngster a light nudge.
“Hello,” the boy murmured.
He was maybe nine years old.
“Hi, Qa’Shawn.” Diane smiled at him.
“You a doctor for real?”
“I am.” She held out her stethoscope. “See.”
“I know what that is. You listen to a heart with that. Can I try it?”
Diane placed the ear tips of the headset lightly into his ears and then put the diaphragm against the boy’s chest. After just a few seconds his eyes grew wide.
“I hear noise in there. Is that my heart?”
“Hope so,” Ron said. “If you don’t hear anything you’re in deep trouble.”
But the boy was too fascinated with the sounds coming through the instrument to try and figure out Ron’s macabre joke.
“Can I listen, too?” Diane asked.
Qa’Shawn relinguished the headset to her. Diane put it to her own ears and listened, using the tunable diaphragm to make adjustments. After a minute Diane removed the headset, looping the stethoscope around her neck. She grinned at Qa’Shawn. “Sounds like a lot of rushing water to me.”
The boy laughed but was already getting antsy to get away.
“I don’t want to keep you from Santa. Nice meeting you, Qa’Shawn.”
He shouted goodbye and took off like a shot.
“Well?” Ron asked in a quiet voice.
“I hear a murmur. Could mean his heartbeat’s a little irregular. It’s not unusual and it’s not normally dangerous, but I’d like to see Qa’Shawn at the hospital.”
