"Did I hear you mention a list?" Alex's familiar voice caught her by surprise.
"Christmas cards."
"Oh. I thought you might have remembered something we should buy."
"Not a thing."
"Shall we still plan on decorating this afternoon?"
She managed to stifle a resigned sigh. "Yeah, sure. Why not?" The sooner they finished, the sooner the weight on her chest would lift and she could breathe freely again.
"Are you sure you don't want to join our shopping expedition? We could use another opinion."
Claire should have told him that her trip to the beauty shop had fallen through, but the mere thought of holiday trimmings sent her stomach into a series of cartwheels. "I'm sure. Someone needs to organize things so we'll be ready to roll when you get back."
"Fair enough." He glanced at his watch. "Is it only eight-thirty?"
"It's nearly nine. When are you going to break down and buy a watch that works?"
"It only needs a new battery."
"You said that two batteries ago. Just go to the store and pick out a decent watch."
"I haven't found one I like. They're all so high-tech, it's impossible to tell time. Speaking of which, the Harkness baby is coming in this morning. Make sure the lab faxes his morning bilirubin result."
Medical business she could handle. "Will do."
Fifteen minutes later, she ushered Judy Weatherbee into the first exam room. The forty-two-year-old woman had come in for her weekly blood-pressure check, and after today Alex would decide if intervention was necessary. From the high figure—one forty-seven over ninety-eight— Claire suspected that he would.
"Are you feeling OK?" she asked.
Judy shrugged. "I'm fine, other than a slight headache. I don't know why my pressure is high. It never has been before."
"Those figures have a tendency to creep up when we get older," Claire explained. "Do you have any family history?"
Judy shook her head. "We don't smoke, or drink either. If cancer doesn't get us, then we live to a ripe old age. All of my grandparents lived into their nineties."
"That's a plus," she said.
"What will he do? Since my numbers don't seem to be coming down."
"He'll probably start you on medication. Preventing a stroke or a heart attack is the goal. Not to worry, though." Claire patted her hand. "We'll see what he says."
In the end, Alex chose the very lowest dose of a beta-blocker and asked her to return in another week.
The rest of the morning was busy and Claire ran to and fro, trying to anticipate Alex's needs and follow his orders. Little Blake Harkness's bilirubin had come down, but it was still fourteen, which indicated that his liver hadn't completely kicked in yet. His mother was given instructions to keep him wrapped in his special space-age blanket that helped break down the bile pigment, giving him that yellow, glow-in-the-dark appearance.
The pace of any day preceding a holiday was hectic, but the volume of work on this pre-Thanksgiving shift was worse because observing the occasion meant the clinic would be closed for the next four days. The cold November weather only added to the stress as patients who thought they were coming down with the usual winter ailments wanted a last-minute visit to the doctor while he was still available. Between those folks, the regularly scheduled appointments and cases like young Raven Ellison, who'd fallen off the monkey bars at recess and sprained his wrist, Claire hardly had time to think, much less fret over the task looming ahead.
She may have hidden her inner turmoil behind an upbeat attitude but now, with the patients gone, the staff at lunch and Alex leaving to pick up his daughter and embark on their shopping quest, she couldn't.
The box of last year's decorations, which she'd forced herself to open, brought back the overwhelming sense of loss.
You can do this, Claire. You really can.
She stroked the soft beard of the eighteen-inch-tall chubby-cheeked Santa in her hand and remembered how she'd once looked forward to this time of year. She used to love the winter celebrations with their hustle and bustle, but her eagerness was only a distant memory that belonged to another lifetime. It was amazing how one day, one hour, one minute, had made a world of difference in her attitude.
Think of it as just another holiday, like Valentine's Day, or Easter, or Independence Day.
How could she when the scent of the freshly cut, newly delivered evergreen standing in one corner of the patients' waiting room reminded her of the Ponderosa pine that stood sentinel over her husband's grave?
No, it wasn't just another holiday. It was the Christmas season, the season she started to dread when the leaves began to turn color and fall to the ground. Most people counted the days until December 25th but she counted them until the 26th—the day when the radio stations returned to their regular programming and everyone stopped greeting each other with the phrase that was so at odds with how she felt.
Merry Christmas.
For her, it might be Christmas, but it certainly wasn't "merry." This entire month reminded her of everything she and her son had lost, and not for the first time she wondered why someone, somewhere hadn't built a resort specifically for people like her who simply wanted to pass through these weeks as painlessly as possible.
Resolutely squaring her jaw, she set Santa on the end table next to the matching figure of Mrs Claus. No one, other than Nora, need know how painful this was for her. She would see this project through to its bitter end.
In the meantime, she'd hope that Nora's philosophy was right, that getting involved with holiday preparations in the professional atmosphere at work was a dress rehearsal for doing so at home. Joshua didn't deserve to miss what every other child was taking for granted. If she managed to decorate the office, then maybe, just maybe, she could cope with adding a few holiday touches to her own house.
Somewhat reassured by the thought, she returned to the man-sized red plastic storage tub that the maintenance crew had delivered earlier. As she unpacked the rest of its contents, she was relieved to find the odd assortment of generic items—strands of lights, boxes of shiny, multicolored ornaments, packages of silver icicles and garlands. Part of her reticence at decorating at home was because so many of her things held a special significance. Fortunately, none of the baubles in this box did, and she was supremely grateful.
Grateful, that was, until she opened a tan box without thinking. The sight of the ornate angel tree-topper lying in a bed of white tissue paper literally took her breath away.
It was an exact replica of hers, with its curly reddish-gold hair and the trim on its gold brocade gown. She stroked the red soutache braid, barely conscious of the cold sweat breaking across her forehead. Crowning the top of the tree with this was out of the question. She'd brave the crowds at the store and spend her own carefully budgeted funds to buy something else. A star, a Santa, anything could fill that spot, but not this particular angel which brought such bitter-sweet memories to mind.
Picturing a possible alternative, she didn't realize she had company until Alex interrupted her thoughts.
"Is everything OK?"
CHAPTER TWO
Claire slammed the lid on the box and dropped it back in the plastic tub. Swallowing hard, she turned to gaze up at Alex and hoped that he hadn't noticed anything amiss.
To her dismay, a curious wrinkle had appeared on his high forehead and she recognized the question in his midnight-black eyes. Determined to divert his curiosity, she managed a reassuring smile. "Sure. Why do you ask?"
He shrugged, but the furrow didn't disappear. Funny thing, but his speculative gaze made her feel as if he could see into her very heart.
"You looked a little...tense,'.' he finally said.
If "tense" was a polite way to say she looked as if she was in the middle of a panic attack, then he was right. She drew in a deep breath and prayed that her smile would appear sincere.
"Did I?" She cast around and tried to think of an excuse for the grim expression she
'd obviously been wearing. "I was just going through the things we've used in years past." She motioned to the bags in his hand. "Did you find what you wanted?''
His chuckle was like a soothing balm to her stressed nerves. This man radiated calm, and at the moment she needed it as desperately as a diabetic needed insulin.
"And then some," he said. "Jennie insisted we buy lots of icicles. She claims it would look anemic if every branch wasn't dripping with them."
"Big word for a little girl."
He shrugged. "One of her friends' mothers took iron tablets and she asked me why. Anyway, when it comes to Christmas, there's no such thing as 'too much' of anything." He grinned. "She struggles to whittle her wish list down to her five most wanted things."
So much for Claire's philosophy of "less is more". She'd be lucky if they finished today.
Realizing Alex was alone, she asked, "Where is Jennie, by the way?"
"At the soda pop machine. She'll be here shortly. Before she arrives, though, I have a favor to ask."
Alex rarely asked for favors—at least, he rarely asked her. On those few occasions, they'd been relatively minor requests, like dropping off a letter at the clinic's post office box outside in order to meet the pick-up deadline. Now the tentative note in his voice and obvious uncertainty suggested that this time his "favor" might not be a simple one.
On the other hand, it couldn't be worse than the task now facing her.
"Ask away."
He rubbed one temple and she noticed the few threads of silver in his dark hair. "Would you mind starting without me?"
"You can't desert me. You got us into this mess," she said, hoping she didn't sound as frantic as she felt. She'd hoped to hang in the background and watch Alex and Jennie work.
"I won't abandon you. I only need-to look over a few reports and make a few phone calls that I can't put off."
"We could wait."
"I don't know how long I'll be." He glanced around the room. "The patients probably wouldn't appreciate stepping over all this clutter."
Trapped. That's how she felt. Utterly, totally, completely trapped.
"Knowing my daughter," he added, "she'll probably want to do it all by herself, but if you could work together...?" His voice trailed off as he raised one eyebrow in question. "Make sure she doesn't go overboard."
At eight, Jennie was more than capable of hanging ornaments by herself, but if it made him feel better to think they were working together, then so be it. As for going overboard...
"I get it," she said lightly. "You want me to play the heavy if she gets a hare-brained idea."
"Sort of, but not really. You see, at home we use everything we have, but no one sees it except us. This..." he glanced at the tree "...is being judged."
For herself, Claire didn't care about a contest, although she knew their tree would reflect good or bad on both her and Alex. For that she owed him the best job possible, even if she was being forced into it. "I'll try."
"Great." The worry in Alex's eyes faded and he glanced at his watch. "Where is she? It doesn't take this long to buy a fruit drink."
"Maybe she's eating a snack, too."
"Probably." He sighed as he rolled his eyes in apparent mock frustration. "It doesn't matter that she ate lunch forty minutes ago. There's some sort of psychological tie between the end of the school day and food. You'll see."
"I have a few years before I'll notice," she said.
"Joshua might be only two but, believe me, you'll blink and he'll be twelve," he assured her. "They don't stay babies forever."
"So true." Already Joshua was exerting his childish independence and it wouldn't be long before he'd prefer playing with his friends to being with his mother. Right now, she could meet his nurturing needs, but would she be enough for him when his interests turned to more masculine pursuits?
Worry about that later, she told herself. As her mother had advised, take one day at a time.
Before Alex could share more parental tidbits, his daughter burst into the room carrying a shoe box, presumably filled with her hand-made snowflakes. Jennie's small face was wreathed in smiles and Claire once again noted how closely she resembled her father with her dark hair and eyes. She was a pretty child, which wasn't unexpected when one considered Alex's good looks. As far as Claire was concerned, the thin scar running from her nose to her mouth that marked every child born with a cleft lip was hardly noticeable. Her speech patterns suggested that her palate had been affected, too, but all in all she sounded quite normal.
She was also tall for her age and with her beautiful smile and thick eyelashes, she'd give Alex a few more gray hairs when boys started to notice the gem in their midst.
"Can we start now?" Jennie asked, unable to stand still in her excitement. "Can we?"
"Sure thing," Alex said as he tugged on Jennie's ponytail. "I'm going to work in my office for a while, but Claire's going to help."
The excitement on her face dimmed. Jennie pulled Alex aside and said in a loud whisper, "But, Dad, you said you would."
"And I will," he said firmly. "But first I have to clear my desk. You won't even notice I'm gone."
"But—" the little girl protested.
"But nothing. This is the way it is, and if you argue you won't help at all."
Jennie frowned, but held her tongue.
"Now, now. Claire won't bite." He looked over Jennie's bowed head to wink at her. "Remember, Claire's in charge."
"But, Daddy," Jennie wailed. "I drew it out so we'd know what to buy. If she doesn't like my idea, we can't change now."
Claire decided to step in. "Your father has told me all about your plans. I think they sound wonderful. Why don't you show me your drawing so I can picture the tree the way you do? Then we'll get busy."
Somewhat appeased, Jennie pulled a folded piece of paper out of her jeans pocket. Claire sensed, rather than saw, Alex's stealthy departure, and she sent him a silent admonition to hurry back.
Jennie handed her the now unfolded scrap of paper. "Daddy said this looked great."
Knowing that she couldn't disagree, Claire studied the colored artwork, complete with both large and small snowflakes and frosted glass icicles. To her surprise, she didn't want to. "This is really good. I wouldn't change a thing."
Jennie grinned. "Really?"
"You've thought this out well. I do have a suggestion, though. Blue is a cool color, so why don't we add shiny blue balls for a little extra sparkle?"
"OK."
The decision made and tragedy averted, Claire injected as much enthusiasm as she could muster into her voice and squared her shoulders. "Where should we start?"
"You're in charge," Jennie reminded her, as if Claire had forgotten their hierarchy.
"Ah, but that doesn't mean I can't listen to my helper's ideas."
"My dad always puts the lights on first."
"Of course. How could I forget? Do you want to handle that by yourself?"
Jennie studied the tree for a moment. "I'm not tall enough to reach the top. Not yet, anyway."
Fortunately, the strand of lights Claire had chosen was in working order and it didn't take long for her to position it to Jennie's satisfaction.
"What's next?" Claire asked.
"The ornaments," Jennie informed her importantly.
"Snowflakes and icicles. Why don't I dig them out of their packages and you can hang them wherever you'd like?"
"OK."
Claire removed the cartons from the plastic sacks Alex had carried in while Jennie threaded the wire hangers through the holes on her paper snowflakes.
"Your little boy is cute," Jennie commented. "I saw him the other day when you were outside. It looked like he was having a good time playing in the leaves."
Claire remembered. They had spent all day Saturday doing yard work. She had raked and Joshua had spent his time destroying her piles. "He did."
"I bet he'll love seeing the Christmas lights."
"I'm sure he will." She'd dr
ive him through their neighborhood and the park when the weather co-operated so he could see the elaborate display that was touted as being the largest in the county. Fortunately, he was still too young to wonder why they wouldn't have Santas and snowmen in front of their house when the majority of people did.
"We're going to buy our tree on Friday," Jennie went on.
"That's nice."
"Do you have a real tree or an artificial one?"
Claire wasn't sure how to answer. "Neither." At Jennie's puzzlement, she added, "I haven't had a tree for a few years."
"You haven't?"
"No." She changed the conversation with a falsely bright tone. "Would you look at that? We've used all the wire hangers. I'll look in the box for more."
"OK."
Claire was glad she'd diverted Jennie's attention, but as soon as she returned with an unopened package, Jennie asked, "Why don't you have a Christmas tree?"
How could she make Jennie understand why the season didn't give her the joy it gave everyone else? "It's a lot of work for Joshua and me."
"Doesn't Joshua's daddy help you?"
"He's in heaven."
"Ah," Jennie said in an understanding way. Then, just as Claire was certain she had accepted her explanation, the youngster kept going. "My dad and I are by ourselves and we don't think it's too much work."
How could she counter that? "Yes, but you're not a baby. You can handle most of the job on your own."
"Except for the top."
"Except for the top," Claire agreed.
Jennie looked thoughtful as she hung another ornament. "Babies aren't much help, I suppose. They're always in the way, too."
"That's right."
"Does Joshua have a grandma or a grandpa who could watch him?''
"Yes, but they live in San Francisco and we don't see them often. What about you?''
"My grandma lives here. My dad grew up in Pleasant Valley, but they moved away when he was thirteen. After my grandpa died, my grandma came back. Last year, Daddy decided to move here, too, so Grandma wouldn't be by herself."
"I'm sure she was glad you did."
Jennie nodded. "It's me, my dad and grandma. Oh, and Mrs Rowe. She's the housekeeper."
A Very Special Christmas Page 2
