Songs of Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  “Like an athlete, right? You never know when you’re going to be called up to the big leagues. And how’s that going, any progress?”

  “Some progress,” she said cryptically, wondering if she should tell him that she was being considered for a seat in an orchestra in Austin.

  “Really? That’s good, then, right?”

  “So far,” she said tentatively. She decided she would wait to broadcast her news. If she didn’t get called for the audition and get the seat, she would feel disappointed and embarrassed . . . and would be stuck making a lot of awkward explanations. She had been through that a few times and didn’t want to go through it again.

  “When did you hear about it?”

  “Just a few days ago. One of my former teachers called me.”

  “Sorry I missed the news. I haven’t been around much this week. I got pulled away by another job,” he explained.

  Amanda felt relieved to hear that. So he hadn’t changed his mind about her after all. Before she could reply, he said, “Are you practicing all weekend?”

  “Well, no, not every minute,” she said vaguely.

  “How about Saturday night? Maybe we can catch a movie or something.”

  Amanda’s heart jumped. Then she realized she had promised her folks she would stay with her little sister so they could go out to dinner.

  “I’d love to, but I have to take care of my little sister. I’d ask you to come over and hang out with us, but I have to take her to a birthday party that’s at some place called ‘Barbie Kingdom.’” She made a face. “Trust me, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

  He laughed and seemed reassured she wasn’t just putting him off. “I don’t think I’d be much help to you there.”

  Amanda wondered if she should suggest a different time to get together. Maybe after church on Sunday? But before she could decide, someone called out from the back of the sanctuary.

  “Amanda? Shall I turn some more lights on? It’s so dark in here, I won’t be able to read my music.” One of the choir members, Vera Plante, walked into the sanctuary and clicked on all the light switches, turning on more overhead lights and entirely changing the atmosphere.

  “That’s better,” Vera announced cheerfully. She stepped into a pew and shrugged off her puffy down coat and big knitted hat.

  Amanda had been staring up at Gabriel, mesmerized by his brilliant blue eyes, for much longer than was good for her, and suddenly felt like she had been roused from a daydream.

  He looked down and smiled, seeming to acknowledge that their private time was over.

  “Are we going to sing ‘Peace Like A River’ on Sunday? I can’t find my copy . . .” Vera sat down nearby, sifting through her black music binder.

  “I have extras, Vera. I’ll get one for you in a minute.” Amanda stood up and rested the cello on its stand. Then she turned to Gabriel. “Choir is starting soon. I’d better get ready.”

  “I’ve got to run anyway. See you.” He waved and turned away. She waved back, wishing they could have talked longer.

  Well, they had almost figured out a date. At least he wanted to see her again. She certainly wanted to see him, which surprised her in a way, since he was the complete opposite of the type of men she usually dated—a long parade of musicians, some very moody and even competitive. They were, by and large, not easygoing guys, and her relationships with them were not easy either. But Gabriel always seemed so relaxed and even-tempered. So full of praise and encouragement. Sure, he drove around in a truck with ladders sticking out the back, and he hadn’t finished college. But was he was definitely thoughtful, mature, and intelligent, and he had an artistic side, too.

  Maybe she just wasn’t used to things being so easy with someone she liked so much?

  Amanda didn’t know the answer to that and didn’t have time to figure it out.

  “Hello, Vera. There’s a meeting of the Christmas Fair committee right after practice. Are you coming?” Sophie Potter’s voice broke into Amanda’s thoughts. Sophie marched up the center aisle and stepped into the pew behind Vera, where she dropped her coat and a tote bag full of craft items that Amanda guessed were headed for the annual church fund-raiser. Other choir members were coming in, too, greeting Amanda cheerfully.

  It was time to focus on her duties here at church. And to forget about Gabriel and even the vacant orchestra seat in Austin.

  * * *

  “I CAN SEE YOU’RE GETTING VERY GOOD CARE, EZRA. THAT EASES MY mind considerably.” Dr. Newton had not been able to stop by until Thursday evening. But it was good of him to make a house call at all, Ezra thought. He had done it in his day, of course, practically until he retired. But it was nearly unheard of these days, and Ezra appreciated the attention.

  Dr. Newton had been listening to Ezra’s heart and his breathing with a stethoscope and now put the instrument aside. “You know I was concerned when you decided to come home for your recovery. But it seems to be working out.”

  Ezra smiled. “Estrella keeps her eye on me . . . and Lillian, of course,” he added quickly, glancing at his wife. “She keeps her eye on everything, don’t you, dear?”

  Lillian frowned. “Someone’s got to do it,” she said flatly.

  Lillian sat in the armchair near the window, and Estrella stood at the foot of the bed, holding a chart of notes and the schedule of Ezra’s medications. She was watching the doctor, and Lillian studied her.

  Estrella’s trial period was up tomorrow. Ezra was highly in favor of keeping her on. Lillian was not. She had many objections—significant issues, though Ezra dismissed them, claiming she found fault with everyone. She knew she could be critical, but she was only thinking of his welfare.

  This Estrella was hardly the walking miracle Ezra seemed to think she was. Lillian couldn’t figure out what Ezra found so impressive. She didn’t do anything more than the other home health aides. She did a lot less, in fact.

  Lillian had caught her a few times on the phone with her family. Ezra turned a blind eye. “If she’s doing her job, she can talk to her children now and then,” he’d said. “Mrs. Fallon was on the phone all the time with Holly.”

  Well, Mrs. Fallon was Mrs. Fallon. Lillian wouldn’t dare compare the two.

  “We were very lucky to find Estrella,” Ezra was telling Dr. Newton. “She was a cardiac care nurse in El Salvador,” he added.

  Lillian pursed her lips. He was bragging about the girl as if she were his own daughter. Who even knew if that story was true? A cardiac care specialist, no less. Who could ever check such a claim?

  I could learn as much about being a nurse from TV shows, and put on as good an act, Lillian told herself.

  Dr. Newton seemed to buy it, though, Lillian noticed. “Just the person to watch over you. You won’t let him eat any more bacon and eggs, will you? I know he loves them,” Dr. Newton said to Estrella.

  “Only the whites, Doctor. And no bacon . . . maybe turkey bacon,” she added in her heavy accent. “Though recent studies show foods high in cholesterol may not be the reason patients develop high counts. It might be a product of the body.”

  “That’s very true,” Dr. Newton said. “It could be a genetic tendency in some individuals to produce cholesterol.”

  “Maybe someday scientists will remove that flaw from our genes,” Estrella said.

  “And we’ll be able to eat bacon and eggs three times a day,” Ezra chimed in.

  “My, my . . . what a world that would be. Sounds like I walked into an episode of a show on the Discovery Channel,” Lillian remarked.

  Dr. Newton checked Ezra’s broken arm and then his leg. “You’ll have to come in next week for X-rays. I want to see how those bones are mending. Your heart sounds good, and so do your lungs. That’s the main thing.” He stood up and made a few notations in Ezra’s chart. “Any adverse reactions to the medication?”

  Ezra shrugged. “Not that I’ve noticed.”

  Estrella stepped forward. “Dr. Ezra had some high blood pressure this wee
k. It spiked up two times. Here . . . and there,” she noted, showing the doctor her chart. “And this morning, it was low,” she added. She showed him her notation, looking concerned.

  Dr. Newton took the chart and studied it a moment. Ezra looked at Lillian. She made a face. Tempest in a teapot. Estrella was just trying to act official, puff herself up. So they would keep her on after her trial period. That’s what this was all about.

  “Some fluctuations,” Dr. Newton agreed, “but nothing too wild. I don’t want to adjust your medication yet, Ezra. Let’s just watch it.”

  “I’ll keep my eye on that,” Lillian promised firmly before anyone else could speak.

  Dr. Newton glanced at her. “How are you holding up, Mrs. Elliot?”

  “I’m holding up just fine. Fit as a fiddle,” she snapped, irritated that now her health was being questioned.

  Ezra glanced at her. “She’s been a rock, Doctor. An absolute rock.”

  Lillian wasn’t sure if she liked her husband’s tone either. Was he being facetious? She decided to let it slide. For now.

  After Dr. Newton left and Estrella had disappeared to prepare dinner, Lillian stood by the bed, watching Ezra. The bedclothes were pulled up nearly to his chin, and he seemed to be dozing off. The exam must have tired him out, she realized. But she wasn’t ready for him to fall asleep, not when they had things to discuss.

  “Ezra, are you falling asleep on me?” she said sharply.

  “Hmm? I’m awake, Lily . . . What did you say?” He struggled to sit up, and Lillian leaned over to help him, though in truth, she was not much help at all in getting him higher in the bed. At best, she could rearrange his pillows, punching them into place.

  “I want to ask what you think we should do about Estrella. Tomorrow is Friday, the end of her trial period. We agreed on a week, remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” he said calmly. “I thought it was all settled. I thought we were keeping her on.”

  Lillian stood back and smoothed out her sweater. “How could this be settled? I never discussed it with you. Are you losing your memory, too?”

  “I know we didn’t talk about it. But I thought it was understood. She’s doing a good job, and she’s here around the clock. What could possibly be the problem?”

  “The problem is, I’m not nearly as confident of her nursing abilities as you are, for one thing. And I don’t think she’s a hard worker, for another. Every time I walk in on her in the kitchen, or wherever, she’s on the phone with her mother or one of her children.”

  “Yes, yes, you keep saying that. But I’ve never seen it,” he countered.

  “Are you implying that I’m making this up? Of course you haven’t seen it. You’re stuck here in this bed, and she’s not going to get on the phone when she’s serving you breakfast or taking your temperature.”

  Ezra sighed and scratched his chin. She could see he had no answer for that.

  “I don’t see any reason to let her go, Lily. We’ve tried all those agency helpers, coming in and out every hour or so. You found fault with every one. We have no one lined up to take her place either,” he reminded her.

  He had a point. They couldn’t go without help—heaven forbid they were left alone for a minute. Emily and Jessica forbid, she should say.

  “I think we should keep looking. You promised you would respect my opinion on this. I think we ought to put her on notice, tell her it’s not working out. I think that’s the decent thing to do,” Lillian insisted.

  “If we tell her that, she’ll just go.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t want her to go. I’ve found no faults with her work and, if I may remind you, I know a thing or two about medicine and competent nursing. Besides, she needs this job, Lily. You know why.”

  Lillian pursed her lips. Estrella was a widow, supporting two children and her mother. That was a sad story and a heavy burden to bear. At one time Lillian, too, had been a young widow with two children—and cut off from her entire family. But she had put her shoulder to the wheel and pushed on. No one gave her a helping hand out of pity. And she had not expected anyone to either.

  “Yes, it’s a sad situation. My heart goes out to her,” she said. “But my first concern is you, not Estrella and her family.”

  Ezra glanced at her from hooded eyes. He was tired and she was tiring him even more. “I get your point, Lily,” he said, before she could go on. “But I need to rest now. We agreed she would have a full week. We can decide all this tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Lillian was about to argue further when Ezra’s eyelids dropped closed. He turned his head, breathing deeply, and then she heard him lightly snoring.

  “Oh, bother . . . now he’s fallen asleep on me,” she grumbled. “That’s one way to win an argument. Or, at least, table the discussion.”

  * * *

  LILLIAN WANDERED INTO THE KITCHEN, LOOKING FOR ESTRELLA. THE enticing smells of dinner cooking met her on the way. The woman was a good cook, she had to hand her that. Though Lillian insisted that her meals be prepared in the plain, spice-free style she preferred, Ezra had a much more adventurous palate—salt– and cholesterol-restricted, but adventurous nonetheless. He did seem to enjoy the dishes that Estrella cooked, almost as much as he did Mrs. Fallon’s cooking. He would miss that, no doubt, but it was a small price to pay when you looked at the larger picture.

  Lillian didn’t trust Estrella. Ezra may have fallen for her sad story, but Lillian was not taken in. Besides, if she was so wonderful, she would find another job easily, the way she had found this one.

  I won’t lose sleep over it, Lillian told herself.

  As she approached the kitchen, her suspicions were justified. Estrella stood at the counter, pots bubbling on the stove and her hands chopping a carrot while her cell phone was wedged between her shoulder and cheek. “Jorge, you heard what Abuela said. No video games until you finish your homework. Yes, and the math sheet, too. When you come to that, you call me back and I’ll help you.”

  It was bad enough she had to talk to them ten times a day. Now she had to give her son math tutoring? And while I’m paying her.

  “Where is Marta? I need to talk to her . . . Oh, Mrs. Elliot . . .” Estrella glanced at her, then quickly said, “Good-bye, mijo. Mama has to go.” She clicked off the phone and slipped it in her pocket. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you come in. Can I help you with something?”

  “You can stop making personal calls while you’re on duty, for starters.”

  “I’m sorry. My mother called. She needed some help with my son. He can be stubborn. Smart in school, but doesn’t like to do his homework. Dr. Ezra said it was all right. As long as I—”

  “Spare me the details,” Lillian said. “My husband is a very soft-hearted man, in a weakened condition. It will hardly be to your benefit to take advantage of him.”

  “Take advantage of him? How would that be, Mrs. Elliot?”

  “Don’t act so innocent with me. I have eyes in my head. Helping him with his Spanish, neck massages, cooking his favorite foods.”

  Estrella faced her squarely, her expression unreadable, though her dark eyes were intense. “A little kindness and positive interaction between the caregiver and the patient speeds recovery. Especially after a heart procedure, when patients are prone to depression. There are many studies.”

  “Yes, yes, I’m sure.” Lillian cut her off, waving her hand dismissively. “You’re very up on all these studies, aren’t you? Well, I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. You might fool my husband, but you don’t fool me. Your trial period is over tomorrow,” she reminded her. “If I have my way—”

  “Estrella?” Lillian heard Ezra’s voice calling on the monitor. Before she could react, Estrella ran over and answered him. “I’ll be right there, Dr. Ezra. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine . . . just woke up,” he mumbled. “May I have a glass of water, please?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll bring it right in.”


  Estrella took a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator and poured it into a tall glass. “The medication he takes is dehydrating. He should drink at least eight glasses of water a day. I measure the intake, to be sure.”

  “Give me the water, please. I’ll take it in to him.” Lillian held out her hand, the other braced on her cane.

  Estrella looked at her a moment, then handed her the glass.

  “If he wants anything else, please let me know.”

  Lillian didn’t answer. She turned slowly, the water in hand. It would be hard not to spill half of it during the trip from the kitchen to his room with this bum hip of hers. But she would try her best.

  She wanted to deliver it personally and tell Ezra how she had found his perfect caregiver yammering away on the phone again and scheduling a homework help session with her son. If I had allowed her to stay on that call, she might have never heard Ezra on the monitor. What if it had been an emergency? Then what?

  Didn’t this just prove her point?

  Meanwhile, taking care of Ezra wasn’t exactly brain surgery. For goodness’ sake, she could do it herself if Emily and Jessica would just let her.

  Chapter Seven

  MRS. ELLIOT? MRS. ELLIOT? CAN YOU HEAR ME?”

  Lillian was awakened by the sound of Estrella’s voice, on the monitor in her room. She sat up quickly and grabbed at the night table, knocking things over in the dark. She saw the glowing numbers on the digital clock: 2:32 a.m.

  She couldn’t work the monitor without her glasses and thrust it close to her face to find the right button. Finally she pressed it down.

  “What’s wrong down there? Is it Ezra?” She was shouting, she realized, though she didn’t mean to.

  “Dr. Ezra isn’t well. I’ve called an ambulance. Please come down . . . and be careful. Do you want me to come up and help you?” Estrella offered.

  “No, no. I’ll be fine. I’ll be right there. I’m coming . . .”

  Lillian flung the monitor aside and grabbed for her cane and robe, which she kept at the side of the bed. She nearly lost her balance for a moment, but quickly righted herself, grabbing on to the bed’s footboard.