The Gift of Christmas Present

by Melody Carlson

  She’d always figured Lenore had the kind of beauty and intelligence to marry quite well. Esther had, in fact, already been scouting out available young men in the local community when Lenore was only eighteen. Not that she’d wanted her to marry young, but there seemed no harm in looking. And, naturally, she’d always considered those well-bred young men, always the sons of her closest friends, and coming from families of influence. In the early years, back when she expected her daughter to come home like a prodigal, she’d imagined the sort of wedding she’d give her. Something quiet and discreet, but certainly elegant. Perhaps with a reception in the backyard with a small orchestra from the music department. Oh, she knew Lenore wouldn’t have been able to wear white. No sense being hypocrites. But then Lenore had always looked good in ecru. Esther had always imagined her lovely daughter going down the aisle in a beautiful lace gown of ecru.

  She felt tears rolling down her cheeks and scolded herself for allowing her mind to run away with her. Goodness, she knew better than to dwell on Lenore like this. It only broke her heart. Again and again and again. Oh, why hadn’t that foolish girl come home? Why had she been so stubborn? Why had she stayed away so long? Never called, never written, never looked back? How could anyone be so cruel and coldhearted?

  It was after ten that night when Christine returned to her dorm. She’d never been a girl to be easily spooked, but after walking across the silent, empty campus, and then hearing the sound of her footsteps echoing down the hallway of the mostly vacant dorm, she suddenly imagined herself being followed, envisioned someone breaking into her room.

  “Stop it!” she chided herself as she locked and dead-bolted the door to her room behind her. She knew she was being ridiculous. But still the idea of spending the holidays alone in the dorm did feel a bit daunting just now. Of course, she had her grandmother’s holiday party to plan and possibly, if she were lucky, to attend. Although she shouldn’t assume too much. For all they knew she was simply the hired help. Certainly, they’d expect her to make herself scarce when it was actually time to celebrate Christmas. After all, she had no doubts that people like her grandmother and Felicity weren’t the sort to invite the housekeeper to a social event. Of course, tonight had been an exception since the old woman had needed a ride. And even then Christine had mostly felt on the outside of things. Of course, she’d enjoyed the children and felt a real connection with them. But that would probably be a one-time thing.

  That is, unless she decided to end this game of deception and break the news to her grandmother. Grandmother. It still sounded so foreign and unbelievable. She couldn’t even believe she’d already been using that title for the cranky old woman. Especially since the only grandmother she’d previously known was her father’s mother. Talk about your opposites. That grandmother had been tiny and soft-spoken, with curly white hair and soft, rosy cheeks. But she’d died a few years ago at the age of eighty-seven. But besides the physical differences, this grandmother hardly seemed like a grandmother at all. Not even to her two sweet little grandchildren. Even if they were her stepson’s children, they seemed to have accepted her as their own.

  But that was all beside the point, she told herself as she hurriedly prepared for bed. The dorm was colder than usual, and she’d been bundling up at night to stay warm. She layered on flannel pajamas, fuzzy socks, sweats, and even a knitted hat. The point was, she reminded herself, that she was suffering from a terribly guilty conscience for the way she was deceiving not only her grandmother but also her stepuncle, Jimmy, and his family. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, and she knew it. Even more than that, she knew she hadn’t been brought up this way. And she knew her father would be disappointed in her. But perhaps worse than that, she knew God expected more from her too. Like honesty. As a result of all this guilt, she’d had difficulty praying this past week. And that was starting to take its toll on her in many ways. She felt more stressed and worried than ever, and she was actually starting to feel somewhat depressed too. And that was completely unlike her.

  Tears of frustration began spilling down her cheeks, and she knew she had to make this right somehow. But that would mean blowing her cover and revealing her true identity. And she just wasn’t sure she could do that. Not without risking everything. And, for some reason, it seemed more important than ever to find out about her birth mother and her family before they threw her out on her ear for tricking them. This need to know made her feel that no sacrifice would be too much.

  She wished she could pray about it, to lay it all out there and simply ask God to help her, but she knew that was wrong. You can’t very well ask God to help you deceive someone. Finally she settled for a quick “I’m sorry” and “Please help me” kind of prayer. It wasn’t much, but it was more than she’d managed all week. And at least it was honest, or sort of honest. Maybe she’d wake up in the morning and everything would make sense again. And she’d know the perfect way to clear up this little misunderstanding. And everyone would be perfectly fine and happy. At least that’s what she tried to make herself believe as she fell asleep.

  As she walked to her grandmother’s home the following morning, she didn’t feel so hopeful or confident. The dense, wet fog seemed only to add to her feelings of heaviness and gloom. At least Saturday was supposed to be a half day for her, and then she had Sunday off. And so she firmly told herself, You have until noon to figure a way to tell your grandmother the truth.

  But by eleven thirty, the opportunity still hadn’t arisen. Or perhaps she’d missed it completely. It didn’t help matters that her grandmother had been in a foul mood all morning. Christine wasn’t sure if this was because of the impending unwanted Christmas party or simply a result of being laid up with a bum ankle. Even so, Christine did her best to make the old woman comfortable and happy, but nothing seemed to help.

  “My coffee is cold,” her grandmother complained.

  Christine considered telling her that it was cold because it had been sitting there too long, but she held her tongue. “I’ll get you some more.”

  “Make it a fresh pot. I don’t want any stale stuff.”

  So Christine made a fresh pot. But on the morning went, and nothing seemed to satisfy this cantankerous old woman. By the time it was noon and Christine had set a nice lunch tray next to her grandmother, she was emotionally exhausted.

  “I put some dinner things on the shelf in the fridge,” she said as she slipped on her parka. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Christine frowned. “And you’re sure you don’t need me to come by tomorrow? I could come after church, you know.”

  “Jimmy promised to come by.” She didn’t even look up from her soup. “I’ll be fine. I’m not a baby, you know. I can do some things for myself.”

  Christine nodded. “Right. Well, you have the number to my dorm room if you should change your mind.”

  “I won’t.”

  Christine walked slowly across campus. She wondered if she’d done something to upset her grandmother. She knew the woman wasn’t the most congenial person, but it had seemed, up until today, that they’d been getting closer. She’d actually thought her grandmother liked her, at least a little bit. Or maybe she just tolerated her better than back in the beginning. But today had felt like a real setback. And Christine felt more frustrated and disappointed than ever. She’d wanted to sit down with the old woman, to look her right in the eyes and explain everything today. But there just never seemed an appropriate moment. And as grumpy as her grandmother was, she probably would’ve reacted quite badly. She most likely would’ve been seriously angry to hear the truth. Who knows, it might’ve totally ruined all possibilities of a relationship at all.

  “What possibilities?” she had to ask herself as she crossed the street toward the dorm. When her grandmother found out she’d been deceived, she’d probably throw Christine out on the streets. And who could blame her? Maybe Christine should put the whole thing off until after Christmas. Perhaps that would be
the kindest thing to do. Why should she risk upsetting the entire family?

  Yes, she would wait until after the Christmas Eve party. Of course, that meant four more days of continuing this charade. But if Felicity was anything like Christine suspected, those would be four very busy and demanding days. Perhaps it was just as well that she was getting Sunday off. She felt fairly sure she’d need a day of rest just to prepare herself for all the work and preparation, not to mention the continued playacting, that was coming.

  When Christine reported for work on Monday morning, she quickly discovered that Felicity had already made a complete list of things for her to do.

  “Jimmy brought it by yesterday,” her grandmother announced. “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself in for, young lady.”

  She glanced at the list, then smiled, purely for her grandmother’s sake. “No problem. I can handle this,” she said.

  The old woman’s brows lifted. “And keep up the quality of work you’ve been doing for me as well?”

  She nodded. “You’ll see.”

  Her grandmother rolled her eyes. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

  After lunch they sat down together to work on the computer. “I want you to show me how to search for a person,” her grandmother said.

  “There are a lot of ways,” Christine explained. “First we choose a search engine.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, it’s like a service that works as a directory. Here, let me show you.” She went to her favorite search site and pointed out the empty box. “We’ll start by putting the name of the person in here and see if it pulls anything up. Is this person living or dead?”

  “Living.”

  “Okay. Go ahead and type in the full name, and then we’ll hit enter and see what comes up.”

  Christine stepped back and waited as her grandmother began to type. But she felt herself take in a fast breath when she saw the name. Lenore Louise Blackstone. In that same instant her stomach tied itself in a knot and her hands began to tremble.

  “Okay, now what?”

  Christine’s mouth felt too dry to speak. And even if it hadn’t, she still had no idea what to say. She felt slightly faint. She sat down on the chair across from the couch and took a deep breath, trying to regain some sense of composure.

  “What’s wrong?” her grandmother asked as she looked over at Christine. “Goodness, you look pale. Aren’t you feeling well?”

  Christine shook her head.

  “Good grief, I hope you haven’t picked up that horrible flu bug. That’s all I need right now. Maybe you’d better run along home until you know what it is that’s ailing you. I certainly can’t afford to get that flu with my ankle still bummed up. I can barely get around as it is. That would land me in the hospital for certain. I mean it, Christine, you’d better get out of here right now.”

  Christine stood up and walked to the closet, retrieved her parka, and left. She knew it was stupid. She didn’t have the flu. But, at the same time, she didn’t know if she could tell her grandmother the truth right now.

  “Oh, what tangled webs we weave . . . ,” she said to herself as she started heading back toward her dorm. Then, instead of going to her dorm, she decided to stop by her church. It was only a few blocks out of the way, and she hoped she might be able to get a word with the pastor. She felt she was in deep need of some wise counsel. How had she gotten herself into this mess, anyway? By lying, of course. That was simple enough. But now she needed to find a way to get out.

  “What brings you here?” Pastor Reinhart asked. “Coming to complain about yesterday’s sermon?”

  She shook her head. “Actually, I just needed someone to talk to.”

  His brow creased. “Have a chair. Is everything okay with your father? I hear bits and pieces of news about South America, but, to be honest, I don’t pay that much attention. Everything going all right down there?”

  She nodded. “That’s not what’s troubling me.”

  He sat down behind his desk, then leaned forward. “Well, that’s a relief. So, tell me, what’s making you look so glum?”

  She poured out her story, and he listened, making careful comments here and there, until she was completely finished.

  “Wow. That’s quite a story,” he said. “I know of the Daniels family. James Daniels used to be the president of the university. Quite a powerful and respected man in the community. He passed away a few years ago. They had a big memorial service.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ve never met Mrs. Daniels, but I know she used to be quite involved in community affairs. Her name would appear in the paper quite frequently.”

  She nodded again.

  “Of course, that’s not what you came to talk about. Is it?”

  “What should I do now?” she implored. “I need help.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Well . . . I think you know what you need to do, Christine.”

  “I know.”

  “And, the way I see it, the sooner is usually the better. Lies don’t get smaller over time. You can sweep them under the rug, but they won’t stay there for long.”

  “Do you think she’ll be mad?”

  He shrugged. “It’s hard to say. I’m sure she’s a fairly proud woman, and most people don’t like being deceived.”

  “That’s true.”

  “But, on the other hand, she should be happy to learn that she has a granddaughter.” He smiled warmly. “Especially someone like you, Christine. Did I tell you that Beth Maxwell said you did an absolutely brilliant job with her third graders while she was on vacation last month? She thinks you should take a class of your own whenever one opens up.”

  Christine smiled weakly.

  “I know. I know. That’s not what you need to hear right now.” He folded his hands. “Sometimes the truth is hard to hear, but I think you knew it before you came in here.”

  Christine looked down at her lap. “What about her daughter, Pastor Reinhart? I mean my mother . . . My grandmother doesn’t even know Lenore is dead.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re going to have to tell her.” He shook his head. “It’s very sad. But you need to remember that it’s not your fault. You’re just the messenger.”

  “The messenger who messed up.”

  He chuckled. “Well, it’ll probably smooth out. Just go and tell her the truth. I can tell it’s eating you up inside. You don’t need that, especially at Christmastime. Besides, I have a feeling it’s all going to work out just fine. I think your grandmother is going to be really happy to realize she’s got a granddaughter.”

  “Do you think we could really have a relationship like that?” She stood and made her way to the door, as she realized her pastor must have other things to do. “Do you think that’s really possible?”

  “All things are possible with God. Just put it in his hands.”

  As she walked back toward the Daniels home, she did just that. She put the whole thing into God’s hands.

  When she rang the doorbell to the house, she felt stronger and braver than she’d felt in days. That is, until she saw her grandmother’s face.

  “What on earth are you doing back here?” she demanded. “I thought you were sick.”

  “We need to talk,” Christine said in a sober voice.

  Christine prayed silently as she followed her grandmother into the living room. It seemed the old woman was maneuvering her crutches much better these days. Perhaps her ankle was improving and she wasn’t in such pain. Maybe it wouldn’t be long before she didn’t need Christine’s help anymore. Christine noticed a dust bunny she’d missed beneath the table in the hallway. She’d have to go over the hardwood floors more carefully later. It was surprising how familiar this home had become to her during the past week. Like she’d known it for years.

  “So you don’t have the flu after all?” her grandmother asked as she eased herself into the recliner and frowned at Christine. “What is it then?”

  Christine sighed and then look
ed down at her lap.

  “Oh, no,” her grandmother exclaimed in a horrified voice.

  Christine quickly looked up. “What?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and gotten yourself pregnant. And you, supposedly a good church girl.”

  Christine shook her head. “That’s not it.”

  “Well.” Her grandmother leaned back. “That’s a relief.”

  Christine took a deep breath. “This is rather hard to explain.”

  Her grandmother frowned. “What is it? Are you in some kind of trouble with the law?”

  “No. That’s not it. But I do have something to tell you that might not be easy to hear.”

  “What is it?” she demanded.

  “Well, it’s hard to know the best way to begin . . .”

  “Just tell me.” She leaned forward and peered at Christine. “At once!”

  “All right,” Christine said. “But you better brace yourself.”