by Dan Walsh
She was tired of being Much Afraid. If she couldn’t trust the Chief Shepherd with her heart, at least enough to start praying about her fears, then who could she trust?
47
6 Days Later
Leanne looked at Art resting comfortably at home in his favorite rocking chair, next to the fireplace. Yesterday, Dr. Halper had released him from the hospital, confident he was strong enough to convalesce here. When they walked through the front door yesterday, she was overcome with emotion, almost as excited as the day she had first moved in with Rick, right after the wedding. Such a comfortable and comforting place, so many good memories. She was so grateful God had given them a fresh opportunity to make some new ones together. And only three days before Christmas.
She walked back to the kitchen, picked up Art’s favorite mug, and filled it to the brim, then walked out and set it beside him. Johnny Mathis serenaded them on the hi-fi. He had just sung “The weather outside is frightful.” But it wasn’t. She looked out the window and smiled. Sunny, in the high sixties.
Art looked up from his magazine. “Oh my goodness,” he said. “I have longed for this moment.” He set the magazine on his lap and reached for the mug. He held it under his nose and inhaled deeply. “Leanne . . . this smell is more sweet to me than your most expensive perfume.” He took a sip. “I can’t even believe how good this tastes . . . Hey!” he shouted, almost spilling his coffee. “I can taste it, Leanne! I can really taste it.”
“You can?”
He took another sip. “Yes,” he said again loudly. Then another sip. “Oh thank you, Lord!” Then another sip.
Leanne smiled. “An early Christmas gift,” she said.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“You’ve been torturing me out here for the last twenty minutes with the smell of those orange sweet rolls.”
“You can have some when Andrea and Amy come over to decorate the tree.”
“I feel bad you having to wrap those lights around the tree yourself. That’s my job.”
“Well, next year you can have it back. I’m just glad you’re here to watch.” Art also had to let go of another tradition this year—putting up the decorations outside. He would trim the whole front of the house in lights, even used to lace them throughout the trees. Something of a friendly competition going on with the neighbors on either side. Leanne wouldn’t mind if he gave up this tradition altogether. She hated him getting up on that ladder.
“Heard anything from Rick?” he asked.
“No,” Leanne said, walking back toward the kitchen. She picked up her mug, came back, and sat on the part of the sofa closest to Art’s chair. “Andrea asked me the same thing when I invited her over this afternoon. Haven’t heard a word since he went back to Charlotte.”
“Rick was never one to talk much on the phone,” Art said.
“I know, but . . .”
“I’m sure he’s all right, hon.”
“I want to believe that,” said Leanne. “It really did seem like something big had happened with him last week.” She thought about calling him herself but was afraid of what she might find.
“Something big did happen,” Art said.
“He was the Rick I’ve been praying to see all these years.”
“Leanne, don’t worry. Just because he hasn’t called doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably just been really busy. He took off two whole weeks to come down here in one of the busiest times of year for his line of work. He’s probably just getting caught up.”
“That’s almost exactly what I told Andrea this afternoon.”
“Now you don’t believe it?”
“I wasn’t that sure when I said it to her.” She took a sip of coffee. “You know she’s having feelings for him, don’t you?”
“Kind of figured that one out,” he said. “You afraid of her getting hurt, I guess.”
“Well, he’s been gone for over ten years, Art. Got his whole life set just the way he always wanted it up there. We only talk on the phone a few times a year, and even then, I could always tell he couldn’t wait to hang up. You should have seen him when he first got here. He was . . . so hard. Like someone I hardly knew.”
“But that’s not the Rick I saw in the hospital last week,” Art said.
“I know,” she said. But still she worried. Like Andrea, Leanne wished he didn’t have to go back to it all so soon.
48
Christmas Eve
Another beautiful day. Sunny but with a nice chill in the air. Just what you want at Christmas. That was the thing living in Florida. Forget about snow. More than half the Christmases were so warm, you didn’t even need a sweater. Tourists from up north loved it. Sometimes they’d even swim in the ocean on Christmas Day. It made for a lovely postcard to send to friends up north, but, having grown up in Ohio, Leanne preferred the weather a little chilly at Christmas.
At the moment, she was finishing up the dishes. Andrea had insisted she be allowed to help, but Leanne pulled rank. “You go on, watch that Rudolph show with Amy and Art.” It was that stop-motion version that came on CBS every year, the one with Burl Ives as a singing snowman and that little elf who wanted to be a dentist. It had been Rick’s favorite Christmas show when he was young.
Leanne sighed.
Still no word from Rick. Eight days now.
They barely talked about it at the dinner table. No one wanted to upset Amy. She was completely convinced Rick was still coming tomorrow. “He promised me,” she’d said, the one time it came up. Like that settled it. Leanne had invited Andrea and Amy to spend Christmas Eve with them, so Amy could wake up to a nicer Christmas morning. Andrea’s apartment was so small and she didn’t have money to decorate it well. During dinner, Art had asked how long they were staying. Amy jumped right in with the answer: “We can only stay tonight, right, Mommy? Mr. Rick is coming here tomorrow for Christmas, so he’ll need his old room back, right?”
Andrea and Leanne immediately looked at each other, uncertain about what to say. “That’s right,” Art had said reassuringly.
Perhaps Amy had sensed their apprehension. “Mr. Rick is coming tomorrow, Mommy. He promised me.”
Children and their childlike faith, Leanne thought. She dried the last dish and set it on the rack beside the sink. Over the last several days, her own faith had waned to where she felt now it was the better part of wisdom to give up on Rick showing up altogether. She’d reduced her hopes to the dutiful phone call she’d get, like she did every year, prepared herself for the excuses he’d offer about why he couldn’t come home after all.
She poured herself a cup of decaf coffee and walked through the dining room to join the others. She loved how the living room looked through the doorway. Art sat in his overstuffed armchair, legs propped up on the ottoman, watching Rudolph, laughing out loud at the slightest joke. Amy sat on the oval throw rug, her back resting against the ottoman. Andrea was on the sofa, looking up at the show every now and then over some embroidered gift she was making.
The house was finally decorated just the way she liked it. At the far left corner of the room stood the fireplace. Beside it, the tree looked wonderful, even without the lights wrapped around the top eighteen inches. She knew it bugged Art that she wouldn’t let him get up on the ladder to finish it, but he didn’t complain. And there in front of the fireplace, Art’s wooden rocker sat awaiting a roaring fire. He insisted they light one tomorrow, even if they had to turn the air conditioning on for a few hours to make it cold enough.
Everything looked perfect. Except . . . Rick.
“Aren’t you coming in, hon?” Art asked.
“Sure,” she said. “Just enjoying the scenery.”
“Dinner was wonderful,” Andrea said.
“Especially the mashed potatoes,” Amy said.
“Why, thank you.” Leanne sat on the other end of the sofa. “Wait till you taste my lasagna tomorrow.”
“What is that?�
�� Amy said.
“It’s a fancy Italian dish I make every Christmas Day. You like spaghetti and meat sauce?”
Amy nodded.
“Then you’re going to love my lasagna.”
Amy’s attention was lured back to the television. “Look, Mom!” Amy shouted. “Barbie’s Dream House.” Her eyes lit up.
“I see it,” Andrea said, looking up, then quickly back down at her project.
Leanne felt bad. Andrea had talked to her about this. The dollhouse sold for one hundred dollars, hopelessly outpriced for Andrea’s budget. Leanne and Art had discussed getting it for her . . . for about two seconds. With all their hospital bills, there was just no way.
“Look, Mom, Barbie’s Super Vette. See it?”
Andrea did look up this time. “That’s really nice, Amy.” She looked at Leanne and smiled.
Leanne winked and smiled back. That was the car she and Art had bought for Amy, under twenty dollars.
“What are they doing showing toy commercials on Christmas Eve?” Art said. “Not like any stores would be open now.”
“You’d be surprised,” Andrea said. “Quite a few of the major department stores announced they’d be staying open till 9:00 tonight.”
“That’s terrible,” Art said. “Christmas Eve. Folks should be off on Christmas Eve, spend it with their families.”
“I agree,” Andrea said.
Spend it with their families, Leanne thought. She was glad to have Andrea and Amy here tonight. They were almost like family now.
But she really missed Rick.
The phone rang.
Andrea instantly looked at Leanne. So did Art. “Want me to get it?” Art said.
It rang again.
“You stay there. I’ll get it,” Leanne said. Please let it be Rick. She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Mom?”
“Rick!” She turned around. Everyone, even Amy, looked up at her.
“Sorry I haven’t called you sooner. Things have been insane up here lately.”
“Art said he thought you’d be really busy.”
“How’s Art doing, everything okay?”
“He’s sitting right here, in his favorite chair.”
“He’s home? Art’s home?”
“Yep. Been home for three days now.”
“I’m so glad.”
“So how’s it looking . . . for you?”
Rick sighed. She heard it clearly. She braced herself.
“I really wished I could have gotten down there today to spend Christmas Eve with you guys, then be there in the morning.”
“I understand, Rick. It’s a real busy time for you.”
“You have no idea,” he said. “So many things to take care of these past few days. But, I’ve only got a few more things to take care of tonight. Then I’m done.”
“Does that mean . . . you’re still coming?”
“Of course, I am,” he said. “Nothing could stop me.”
“He’s coming!” Leanne shouted to everyone in the living room. Art smiled. Andrea’s eyes started tearing up.
“Of course he is,” Amy said. “He promised.”
“Is that Amy?” Rick said. “Is she there?”
“Yes. She and Andrea are staying overnight.”
“That’s great,” Rick said. “But . . . I really wish I could be there in the morning now. I didn’t know they’d be there.”
“Well, you just come when you can. Maybe give me a call when you’re two or three hours out, and I’ll start making the lasagna.”
“You’re making lasagna?”
“It’s Christmas,” Leanne said.
“Yes, it is,” Rick said. “Well, I better go if I’m going to stay on track. I can’t wait to see you all.”
“Rick, I’m so happy you’re coming.” She couldn’t help it. She started to cry.
“I don’t think you could possibly be happier than I feel right now,” Rick said. “Tell everyone I’ll see them tomorrow, and tell them . . . I’ve got a huge surprise.”
49
Leanne felt wonderfully rested.
She’d fallen asleep thanking God for Rick’s call, woke up so grateful he was coming home today. But now she had work to do. It was Christmas morning. Art always did Christmas morning, and it had to be done just so. He wanted to do it badly, but she insisted he stay in bed. Doctor’s orders. He could come out when it was all set up.
“You got the checklist, hon?” he asked as she put on her bathrobe.
He’d actually written a list. “Got it right here,” she said. “Now you wait till I come back for you.”
“I’ve been getting out of bed myself the last few days.”
“Well, don’t come out till I come back.” She opened the door to the hallway.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he said.
She walked back to the bed, leaned over, and gave him a hug. “Merry Christmas, Art. So glad you’re here.” After the hug, she said, “Now you stay put.” She stepped into the hall, heard Rick’s bedroom door open slightly. She heard giggles.
“Can I come out now?” It was little Amy.
“Not yet, sweetheart.”
“How long?”
“Your mommy awake yet?”
“Barely.” She heard Andrea’s voice through the door.
“You’ve got a few minutes, Andrea. Art wants me to set things up.”
“A few minutes?” Amy said. “Then can I come out?”
“Yes, but wait till I come get you.”
“Close the door, Amy,” Andrea said. “No peeking.”
“All right.” The door closed.
Leanne walked into the living room. Morning light had already begun to slip through the sheers, casting a soft glow on every object in the room. Such wonderfully familiar things. She and Art had bought all of them together. She’d rearranged them a half-dozen times before she’d gotten it just right.
She loved this room. Especially today.
It was chilly enough that they didn’t have to turn on the air conditioning. Art had wanted a little nip in the house so they could use the fireplace. Felt like more than a little nip to her. She tightened her robe then turned on the lamp next to Art’s chair, illuminating the mahogany end table. The home for Art’s coffee mug. But today, it would transform into an almost sacred place.
It was the throne for the eggnog.
She smiled as she walked out to the kitchen to start the coffee. Art and his eggnog. He loved it so much, he thought everyone else must too. Years ago, he’d purchased a fancy crystal pitcher with four matching goblets. Unlike most years, this morning she’d get to pour the precious elixir into all four.
“Can we come out yet?” Amy yelled from the hall.
“Not yet, sweetie.”
As the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen, she brought the eggnog out to the table, poured then arranged everything just so, including the nutmeg. The real thing, not the powdered stuff. A little nut about the size of an acorn. Had its own special grater, with the word Meg etched in the metal.
She bent down and started the fire. This was her least favorite thing on his checklist. She loved the warmth and the look, but what a messy job.
“Now?” Amy pleaded.
“We’re so close,” she yelled back.
Once the fire seemed to burn on its own, she walked around the back of the Christmas tree and plugged it in. She backed up toward the hallway and took in the scene, including the smattering of presents under the tree.
Now they were ready. She turned toward the bedrooms. “Andrea, you ready?”
“I am.”
“Art, you ready?”
“I don’t hear any music.”
“Oops.”
“I don’t need music,” Amy said.
“I’m afraid Art does. Just be a sec.” She hurried over and turned on the hi-fi. A few scratchy sounds then Perry Como started singing “There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays.” She walked into the hallway and got
Art’s attention. He shuffled out of the bedroom and sat down in his chair.
“Okay! We’re ready!”
Amy burst out of the bedroom door, screaming with glee. Ran right past Leanne, almost spinning her like a top. Andrea came out slowly, looking remarkably well for someone who had just woken up.
“Merry Christmas,” she said and gave Leanne a hug.
“You too, dear,” said Leanne.
“Is that coffee I smell?”
“Should be ready. You know where the mugs are.”
“Got eggnog here too,” Art said. “With real nutmeg.”
“I’d love some,” Andrea said. “After coffee.”
Art stood up.
“Merry Christmas,” Leanne said, reaching out her arms to give him a hug. They walked together and stood arm-in-arm beside Andrea. All three watched Amy tearing into her small pile of presents.
“Don’t open the biggest one,” Andrea said. “That’s from Art and Leanne. Give Art a chance to get his coffee and sit down. Then bring the present over to his chair.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Amy lifted it up. “It’s so heavy.” It was just a bit bigger than a large shoe box. “What is it?”
“Tell you what,” Art said. “Bring it over here, Amy.” He pushed his ottoman to the side. “I’ll just sip on this delicious eggnog here, have my coffee in a few minutes.” He sat back in his chair.
Amy carried the gift over and set it by Art’s feet. Leanne looked back at the small pile of presents she’d already opened, the few things Andrea could afford. Some doll dresses for Annabelle. A pair of shiny white dress shoes for church. A hairbrush and a comb. A little make-believe makeup kit. She was glad she and Art had bought the Barbie car. Kids should have at least one big surprise gift at Christmas.
Andrea leaned over and whispered in Leanne’s ear, “Look at her. Thank you so much.”
“Glad to do it,” Leanne whispered back.
“Now?” Amy said.
“Okay,” said Andrea.
Amy ripped through the paper and screamed, “My Barbie Super Vette!” as soon as she saw the picture on the box. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said before she even finished unwrapping it. She stood up, gave Art the biggest hug. Then ran over and did the same with Leanne.
