Songs of Christmas

by Thomas Kinkade

  Luckily, the night-light made it easy enough to find what she needed, and she flipped on lights as she scrambled along—first the lamp on the dressing table and then the switches in the hallway.

  “Oh, God, please don’t take him. Don’t take him from me yet,” she murmured in a desperate, angry sort of prayer.

  She looked down from the top of the staircase. All the lights were on. She wanted to fly down the stairs and silently cursed the infirmities that limited her to such careful, crablike steps. She could have screamed with frustration as she worked her way down the long flight. But she knew it wouldn’t help.

  As she came to the bottom, she called to Estrella, “What it is? What’s wrong with him? . . . Did he have another heart attack?”

  Estrella came out of the room to meet her and gently took her arm. “His blood pressure, it’s dropped very low. I called Dr. Newton and gave him something to stabilize it. But he has to go to the hospital right away.”

  Lillian nodded, trying to take it all in. Her legs felt so weak all of a sudden that she thought she would fall, but Estrella held her arm and led her to the chair by Ezra’s bed. “Are you all right, Mrs. Elliot? Do you need anything?”

  Lillian shook her head fiercely. “I’m fine. It’s him. It’s Ezra we have to worry about.”

  She stared down at her husband. He looked as if he were sleeping peacefully. Lillian leaned over and touched his hand. “Good Lord, he’s cold as ice . . . Ezra, can you hear me?”

  She leaned closer to him, waiting for some sign that he was aware of her presence. But he didn’t move a muscle.

  “Oh dear . . . oh dear . . .” She bent her head, trying to hide her distress. She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

  “It will be all right, Mrs. Elliot. He’s very strong . . . I called your daughter. She should be here soon.”

  Lillian lifted her head. She swallowed hard. “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  A hard knock sounded on the front door, and Estrella ran to answer it. Moments later the room was filled with bodies and medical equipment. A team of men and women in bright yellow jackets quickly surrounded Ezra’s bed.

  Lillian stepped aside, but not too far, while Estrella explained what had happened. She had been concerned about the fluctuations she had noticed in his blood pressure and was checking him every half hour. When she came in a short while ago, it had dipped dangerously low.

  While she relayed the information to a woman with a clipboard, two young men were loading Ezra onto a stretcher.

  Emily appeared in the bedroom doorway. “Mother, I’m here,” she said. “How is he?”

  “Ezra’s blood pressure is too low. He’s practically unconscious.” Lillian tried hard not to sound hysterical.

  “Yes, Estrella told me. Why don’t you let Estrella go in the ambulance? We’ll follow in my car,” Emily suggested.

  Estrella was standing nearby, holding her coat. “Mrs. Elliot should go with her husband. If it wouldn’t be too difficult for her.”

  “I do want to go with him,” Lillian agreed. “What about my clothes? I can’t go like this . . . and there’s no time to change.”

  Estrella held out her long down coat. “Take this for now. It will cover you. We’ll follow in the car and bring your things to the hospital.”

  Lillian looked at the coat a moment. It would cover her from head to toe, no question. She had to be with Ezra right now even if it meant she had to jump into that ambulance dressed in a sack.

  She took the coat without meeting Estrella’s gaze. She put it on and zipped the thing to her chin. It felt as if she were wearing a big pillow, and she could smell Estrella’s distinctive cologne on the lining. But there was no time to worry about such trivial matters. Ezra’s stretcher had been rolled through the foyer and out the door. With Emily on one side of her and Estrella on the other, she was half-carried, half-dragged to the ambulance.

  “You know where everything is up in my bedroom,” she said to Emily as they hurried her out. “Make sure the insurance cards are in the handbag.”

  “I’ll get everything, Mother. Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Lillian nodded. She was worried sick, but didn’t want to admit it. A few moments later she was handed over like a sack of potatoes to the ambulance team and hoisted inside.

  They set her on a tiny seat next to Ezra. She could barely balance, and she hunkered down to stay out of the way. He still had his eyes closed and was wrapped up tight as a mummy in thick blankets and strapped in. An oxygen mask covered most of his face, except his eyes. Some other medical equipment was already hooked up to his arm.

  She reached out and patted his shoulder. As the rear doors slammed shut and the vehicle took off, the siren sounding and lights flashing, she couldn’t stop herself from crying. As discreetly as possible, she thought. She didn’t think the emergency techs in the back with her even noticed, they all seemed so busy, chattering on radios and adjusting equipment.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am. He’s stable,” one of the techs told her. “I think you caught him just in time.”

  I didn’t catch him. Estrella did, she nearly answered. But, of course, no one here even knew who Estrella was, or why that admission would be so significant at this moment.

  But she knew. And Ezra would, too. If he survived.

  “Dear Lord in heaven . . . how I hope so,” she said aloud.

  * * *

  AMANDA WAS TRYING TO WORK AT HER DESK IN THE CHOIR ROOM, going over the music scheduled for Sunday’s service. But she could barely keep her mind on the order of the hymns, or when the special music—a very talented high school senior playing a flute solo—would occur in the service.

  The search committee for the orchestra in Austin was due to contact her today, to let her know if she was a finalist for the chair. Amanda checked her email every few seconds, waiting to find the message. They would decide by five o’clock on Friday. That’s what the last message had said. She could barely think of anything else and wondered if she would have to leave tonight for Texas. Professor Sloan made it sound very urgent. If not tonight, then maybe over the weekend, she guessed. She had even planned what she would pack.

  She already knew what she would wear for the audition: a long black knit dress with a ballet neckline and a gored skirt that came down below her knee. A classic style that looked very sleek and dramatic onstage, with her long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

  Lauren told her to wear big hoop earrings, or maybe something dangling. “That looks more arty than pearls,” she pointed out.

  But Amanda preferred pearls. “I need to go for elegant, not arty. Besides, they are going to hire me because they like the way I play the cello, not for my fashion sense.”

  “True, and I know you’ll do great and get the job no matter what you wear,” Lauren said. “I can’t wait to hear. Text me the minute you know.”

  “You’ll be the first, don’t worry.” Amanda meant that, too. Now if only she would see that email from the orchestra. She checked her mail again. Nothing.

  She heard someone come into the choir room and looked up from the screen. It was Gabriel. She could never guess if he would be around unless she spotted his ladder. She hadn’t seen any evidence of him today but was pleased to see him now.

  “Am I interrupting you?” he asked politely.

  She shook her head. “I was just going over some music for Sunday . . . and slacking off,” she admitted with a guilty grin.

  He smiled at her. “I know you’re tied up with that Barbie party tomorrow night, but I wondered if you were free on Sunday evening. This is short notice, but there’s a chamber music group playing in Newburyport. Would you like to see them and get a bite to eat? I promise I’ll take you to a better place than the Clam Box,” he added with a grin.

  His invitation pleased her. It was just the sort of thing she had been hoping for when they were interrupted by Vera Plante the day before. But then her heart sank as she realized s
he had to decline again.

  “I’d love to go . . . but there’s something going on. Remember that job possibility I told you about? It’s in an orchestra in Austin. I’m just waiting to hear whether I made the audition. If I did, I might not be here Sunday. I might have to leave for Texas tomorrow.”

  He seemed disappointed, but finally smiled. “Just what you’ve been waiting for. That’s great,” he said sincerely.

  “Well, I haven’t heard back from them. But one of my former teachers knows someone on the search committee, and she said they were very interested in me. I think I’ll be called for the audition, at least . . . I’m sorry,” she added sincerely. “The chamber music was a great idea. It would have been fun to go with you.” She suddenly stopped herself. “I’m rattling on and on about this, aren’t I?”

  His smile widened and warmed her. “Not at all. It’s great to see you so excited. I’ll be starting a new project, too.”

  “Really? What sort of project?” she asked curiously.

  “I entered a bid to design the entrance at a new community arts center in Essex. They liked my ideas and looked at my work, and it looks like I got the job. Tomorrow, I’m going in to take more measurements.”

  “Wow, that’s great . . . You never even mentioned it.” Maybe because I’m always talking about myself, she realized with a wave of embarrassment.

  But if he thought the same, his expression didn’t show it. “I thought about telling you, but I wanted to be low-key about it. In case it didn’t come through. It’s the first time I’m installing an original design on such a large scale. I’m pretty excited.”

  “It sounds exciting. I’m happy for you,” she said sincerely.

  “Not quite as exciting as your opportunity,” he added with a modest grin. “That really is big news.”

  “Thanks, but it’s a little too early to celebrate. I’m also trying to be low-key about it.” Though I’m not doing a great job of that, she thought.

  “I hope you get good news. I’m sure you deserve it.”

  They stared at each other a moment. Amanda looked up at him, feeling awkward and forcing a smile she didn’t feel. Then Gabriel leaned over and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on her cheek. “Good luck, Amanda. I know you’ll knock ’em dead with that cello of yours.”

  “Good luck to you, too, Gabriel,” she managed to reply.

  A moment later, he was gone. The choir room was silent and empty again. Amanda sat staring at the screen saver on her laptop—colorful notes of music floating in a bright blue sky.

  Had they really just said good-bye to each other? It felt that way, though even if she went to Austin and won that seat, she wouldn’t be starting immediately. She would still come back to Cape Light and be here at least through Christmas. Perhaps she would see him at a Sunday service. But Gabriel wouldn’t be working in the church, and she knew she wouldn’t look forward to coming to work quite as much. Just the possibility of seeing Gabriel at work had added a spark to her days. She did like him. More than she had realized.

  With Gabriel gone, it seemed even more important to know whether she was leaving, too. She checked her email again, for the ten thousandth time. But there was still no answer from the Austin orchestra.

  * * *

  AMANDA HEARD HER PARENTS IN THE KITCHEN. THE TV WAS ON, playing one of her little sister’s shows; she could tell from the music. Her mother was cooking dinner, and she guessed that her father was sitting at the kitchen island, reading the paper, as he usually did this time of day. Her first impulse was to run straight up to her room. But they had heard her come in, and her father called out her name, then came out of the kitchen to look for her.

  “How’s it going? Any news?” he asked eagerly.

  He stood in the doorway to the great room at the back of the house. Amanda remained in the foyer. She couldn’t answer at first.

  “I didn’t get selected. They’ve picked other players to audition.”

  She tried to keep her voice steady, but it shook at the end. She felt her chin wobble and knew she was going to dissolve into tears again. She had hardly made it home in one piece, and had pulled over twice to calm herself between bouts of crying.

  “Honey, I’m so sorry.” Her father came toward her with his arms out.

  Amanda froze in place, her chin tucked down to her chest. She was too old for this stuff. It was all right when she was in high school and hadn’t made varsity soccer or had failed a chemistry test. But she was twenty-five, with a graduate degree. She should be beyond crying on her dad’s shoulder, shouldn’t she?

  And her mom’s? Molly clearly wasn’t going to be left out of the comfort-fest and trotted out of the kitchen right behind him, wearing her white cooking apron and waving a wooden spoon. “I can’t believe that! That is sooooo . . . not right!”

  Moments later, they were both hugging her and patting her back. Betty appeared from somewhere and hugged Amanda’s leg, even though she had no idea what was going on—just that Amanda had come home feeling blue. Very blue.

  Amanda let herself be comforted, and after a little while, they all stepped back. Except for Betty, who looked up with a puzzled but adoring expression. Her mother had taken out some boxes of Christmas decorations, and Betty wore a pair of fuzzy brown antlers.

  “Do you want my Barbie?” she asked quietly, offering a fashion doll in mismatched outfit with hair that had been half chopped off. The doll’s remaining hair had been colored by a magic marker.

  Amanda felt a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “Wow . . . she looks even worse than I feel. Poor thing.”

  Molly rubbed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, sweetie. It sounded like it was a done deal. That teacher, Professor Sloan, she really got your hopes up.”

  “She did,” Amanda agreed. “But it isn’t her fault,” she added quickly. “She only told me what she heard from her friend. I guess the committee was interested in other candidates, too.”

  “I’m sure you were competing against many highly qualified musicians,” her father said. “I just wish they had called you in for an audition. Then they would have seen what a brilliant artist you are. You can’t tell anything from a tape.”

  “And they liked the tape. That’s what kills me. They would have loved the real thing,” Molly added. “This is so unfair. You got so close. It’s so frustrating.”

  Betty was watching and listening to the adults. Molly’s excitement got her excited, too. “That is so terrible!” With her embattled Barbie doll in hand, Betty gritted her teeth, then made a growling sound. “I wish I was a tiger! I’d bite them for you.”

  She stared up at her older sister with a fierce expression, and suddenly, everyone had to laugh. Amanda rested her hand on Betty’s beautiful curly hair. “You would be a wonderful tiger, Betty. Especially with those antlers. But you don’t have to bite anybody for me. It’s all right. I’ll figure it out,” she promised.

  “That’s right. You’ll figure it out. There will be other jobs, you’ll see,” Molly promised her. “Something even better will come along. When you look back, you’ll see this was a blessing in disguise.”

  Austin’s wasn’t the most renowned orchestra in the world. She might do better in the long run. But it was hard right now to think she would ever look back and view this as a lucky moment. She was so deeply disappointed.

  “Your mother’s right. This isn’t the only orchestra in the country. You’ll find an even better spot very soon. Just be patient. Keep looking and practicing,” her father advised. “You can stay with us as long as you like.”

  She knew he was trying to comfort her, but his last phrase made her wince. Her mother must have noticed, because she jumped in very quickly. “Not that you’ll have to stay very long. You might hear about more openings after the holidays,” she suggested. “No one does much hiring right now. Even symphony orchestras,” she guessed.

  “That’s probably true,” Amanda agreed.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie dow
n? I’ll call you when dinner is ready,” her mother said. She patted Amanda’s back again and kissed her cheek. “You’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

  Amanda managed a small smile of thanks, then gratefully went to her room.

  Molly heard Amanda climb the stairs and Betty return to the TV. “I thought this was it,” she said to her husband. “I even checked the airfares to Austin, I was so sure we’d be going there to see her perform.”

  “I thought it was, too,” Matt admitted, talking in a low tone. “I guess she got really close. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”

  Molly nodded. She was mixing a vinaigrette dressing with a whisk and held the bowl in the crook of her arm. “They’re going to face disappointments, all four of them. That’s life. That’s what makes you grow and mature.”

  “I know. It’s just so hard to watch her struggle. But Amanda’s a fighter. She’ll work through this and push on. She won’t give up that easily.”

  Little Betty had been working the remote and clicked onto the local weather channel. Matt quickly turned to her. “Wait, honey. We need to see this.” He glanced over at Molly. “They’re talking about a big storm coming up the East Coast this week. I hope Lauren and Jill aren’t stuck somewhere.”

  Molly was chopping vegetables and slid them from her board into a sauté pan. Jill was just finishing her finals for the semester. Today was Friday the thirteenth . . . well, she hoped her younger daughter was having better luck than Amanda. At least Jill wasn’t planning to head home for the holidays until next weekend. Lauren was also heading home around that time; she was using some vacation days. There wasn’t much activity at the art gallery where she was working, and the owner was off somewhere in Europe.

  “I heard about that storm on the radio,” Molly said. “Sometimes the forecasters get everyone in a panic, and it’s nothing. A few flakes here and there.”

  Matt gave her doubtful look. “I don’t think this one is just hype, honey. We ought to prepare. Better get some staples for the fridge, as well as some flashlights, batteries, and bottled water. I’ll go downstairs later and look for the lantern and camp stove.”