A Wish for Christmas (2 page)

“Do you need your cane, Grandma?” Sara asked.

Lillian shook her head then held out her arm. “Just take me in. You know how I hate that walking stick. It makes me look like an old crone.”

It really didn’t, Emily thought. Her mother always dressed well and carried herself with great dignity. But Lillian would soon enough miss an arm to lean on, figuratively and literally. Emily looked on with mixed emotions as Sara dutifully stepped beside her grandmother, clasped her arm, and led her out to greet the family.

Her mother’s big house sometimes seemed to Emily like a museum or the carefully preserved residence of some notable person—one with very limited hours open to the public. But today, filled with family, the house felt warm and full of life as rambling conversations and even laughter echoed through the long hallways and high-ceilinged rooms.

While Lillian greeted her guests in the large front parlor, Emily helped Sara and Jessica put the finishing touches on dinner. Emily smiled as she heard the sounds of a football game on TV. Normally, her mother did not permit TV viewing during family gatherings. Obviously, she had been overruled.

Of course, Dr. Elliot had been invited to join them. He had a gift for engaging Lillian in conversation and keeping her out of everyone else’s hair. He had probably handled the delicate TV negotiations, Emily guessed. Ezra and Lillian had known each other since they were young, and it often seemed he was the only one who had any influence with her.

Of course at some point, her mother was bound to return to the kitchen to supervise.

“Isn’t the meal ready yet? I’m about to faint away from low blood sugar.” Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Lillian surveyed the scene with a critical eye. “What’s that you’re adding to the gravy, Jessica? Light on the seasoning and the salt, please. I wake up parched in the middle of the night.”

“Don’t worry, Mother. It will be just right,” Emily’s younger sister, Jessica, promised. She turned to face Emily and rolled her eyes. They both knew that if it were left up to Lillian, the food would taste bland as cardboard.

Before her mother was able to take too many steps past the doorway, Emily stepped over and headed her off.

“We’re just about to carve the turkey. Why don’t you ask everyone to sit down at the table, Mother? You’re the hostess, after all.”

“Very well,” Lillian agreed reluctantly. “And please don’t serve until they’re all settled in their seats. I don’t want to go through all this trouble and eat cold food.”

“Good point,” Sara agreed.

Lillian nodded curtly and disappeared.

The three women stared at one another, then burst out laughing.

“Mother doesn’t change, does she?” Jessica added a pinch of salt and a touch of fresh rosemary to the gravy.

“No, she doesn’t.” Emily glanced at Sara. “But I know it means a lot to her to have us all here. Let’s just try to relax and enjoy it.”

The family was finally seated and, with Dan and Luke’s help, all the platters and bowls were brought in, and everyone began passing food around the table. When all the plates were full, Lillian bowed her head and led the family in a blessing.

“Dear Father, we offer our thanks for this bountiful table and the well-being of everyone seated here today. We ask for your continued blessings and guidance. On this Thanksgiving Day, please look into our hearts and help us understand the true meaning of . . .
gratitude.
”

Emily saw her mother lift her head and catch Sara’s eye. Her mother was sending her a silent message, even now, across the dinner table. Trying her best to make Sara feel guilty over her plans to move. As if she and Luke were horribly ungrateful grandchildren to abandon her this way. As if, at the very last minute, the young couple would suddenly see the error of their ways and change their plans.

Though these looks were blood-chilling, no sudden change of heart was likely, Emily knew. She wished her mother would give up and let Sara enjoy the day.

“Everything is perfect. I think we should make a toast to the cook,” Emily proposed, raising her glass. “And to Luke, too.”

Everyone raised their glasses. Even Lillian stuck her hand out and fiddled with her wineglass, though she didn’t quite lift it.

“To Sara and Luke. Thank you for cooking this absolutely wonderful meal,” Emily said. “And to my mother, for inviting us all here to share it.”

“Thank you for the footnote, Emily,” Lillian said huffily. “How kind of you.”

“Cheers, everyone,” said Dan.

Lillian seemed about to make some other disparaging remark, but Dr. Elliot quickly leaned over and clinked glasses with her. “Lift your glass, Lily,” he urged her. “You remember how to make a proper toast, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.” Lillian finally, grudgingly lifted her glass all the way. “If the political speeches are concluded, I’d like to eat. Before my food is intolerable,” she said, glaring at Emily. “If it isn’t already.”

“Try some hot gravy,” Dr. Elliot said, passing the china gravy boat. “Does wonders.”

“A doctor pushing gravy? There’s something wrong with that picture, wouldn’t you say?” Lillian shook her head but took the china boat from him anyway and ladled a minute amount over her plate.

“It’s a holiday,” Dr. Elliot told her. “We won’t worry about our diets again until tomorrow.”

The conversation jumped from cholesterol to current affairs. From gossip around town to the progress of Jessica’s pregnancy.

“When are you due, dear? No, let me guess.” Dr. Elliot squinted at her and rubbed his chin. “January . . . twenty-third?”

Sam put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “That’s amazing. You hit it right on the nose, Ezra.”

Dr. Elliot laughed. “I’ve brought a few babies into the world in my day.”

“Or I mentioned the date and you remembered. It’s marked right on my kitchen calendar,” Lillian chided him.

Ezra shrugged and winked at Jessica. “That’s possible, too,” he admitted.

“Two months, I can’t believe it. It’s going to pass so quickly,” Emily said.

“Not fast enough for me.” Jessica sighed and pushed back from the table. “The last few weeks are the hardest part.”

“I’m sorry we won’t be here when the baby is born, Aunt Jess,” Sara said. “But we’ll come up as soon as we hear.”

“Sara, how sweet. Don’t worry about it. You’ll see the baby when you can,” Jessica said. “We’re having Christmas Eve at our house. I hope you guys can make it.”

Lillian sat back and sniffed. “She’s moving to Boston, not the moon. Of course, she’ll return for Christmas. That’s a full month away. I expect she’ll come back even sooner.”

Emily understood what her mother was hinting at. Sara might stay in Boston with Luke’s family for Christmas. Or go down to Maryland to her adoptive parents.

“We’ll see, Mother,” she said, running interference for her daughter. “They haven’t even moved yet. I’m sure they don’t know where they plan to be for the holidays.”

“A lot will depend on how much time we get off at our new jobs,” Sara explained. “I might have to work over Christmas, being low man on the totem pole and all.”

“I don’t see why a person would bother making a big move for a new job if they weren’t going to get some preferential treatment,” Lillian mused aloud. “It makes little sense to me. But that’s none of my business, I suppose.”

“It’s the
Boston Globe
, Mother. It’s a great opportunity for Sara.” Emily knew she was stating the obvious. “Of course she’ll pay her dues for a while. That’s only fair.”

At least Sara knew she understood. Emily had been ecstatic about Sara’s new job and totally supportive of the move. Much as she wanted her to be here, she would never insist that Sara come back for Christmas. Emily knew that decision was Sara’s. She also knew she had to share her daughter with Luke’s family and with Sara’s adoptive parents in Maryland.

Emily, her birth mother, had given Sara up when she was just a few days old. Emily had been barely nineteen when her husband, a commercial fisherman only a few years older, had died in a car accident just days before Sara was born. Emily’s parents never approved of the match, and so she had eloped, leaving Cape Light.

After the accident, her mother appeared at her bedside to help her recuperate and take her home. It was Lillian’s idea to put the child up for adoption, and Emily finally agreed, believing she was making the best decision for her baby. But she had never gotten over the loss. She hadn’t remarried or had another child. Her heart remained frozen in grief.

Until Sara came to Cape Light and found her. And Emily’s life began again.

Of everyone at this table, Emily knew she would miss Sara the most. But the real question was not how often Sara and Luke would be back to visit. The real question was, what would happen to her mother once they were gone? How would she manage alone in this big mausoleum of a house? That’s what everyone at the table should have been discussing, Emily thought. Instead, it seemed as though they had all made a silent pact not to talk about it, especially on the holiday.

As if honoring the pact, Jessica got to her feet and picked up a few plates. “Why don’t we clear the dishes and bring out dessert? I made some beautiful pies.”

“Yes, one for each of us,” Lillian grumbled. “It’s a regular smorgasbord. Though I did suggest that one or two would be plenty.”

Ezra sighed wistfully and adjusted his bow tie. “Bring it on, young lady. Real whipped cream on top, I hope?”

Jessica smiled. “Yes, real cream, Ezra. As soon as we whip it up. We’ll be right back.”

Sara, Emily, and Jessica convened in the kitchen, cleaning up and putting food away while Dan and Luke carried in all the plates and glassware. Sam took the children outside so they could burn off some energy before the last lap at their grandmother’s table. Emily could see them through the kitchen window, playing in the backyard with a Frisbee. Jane raced between her older cousins, unable to catch them and, occasionally, flopping on the ground like a rag doll, though she was always laughing.

“Those tights will go straight into the trash tonight,” Emily said, turning away from the window. “But they really needed a little fresh air.”

“They deserve a break from the grown-ups,” Sara agreed.

The children had all been surprisingly well behaved during dinner—no chairs or water glasses overturned, no fights or whining.

“Sara, I hope your grandmother didn’t make you feel pressured about Christmas,” Jessica said as she stacked dishes in the dishwasher. “Of course we’d love to have you back, but whatever you decide is fine.”

“Thanks, Aunt Jess. We’ll figure it out . . . but I am concerned about something,” Sara confessed. “It’s Lillian. What’s going to happen to her once Luke and I leave? I don’t think she can live here on her own anymore, not without help. She acts very independent, but I’m not sure you both realize how much we do for her, how much she relies on us . . .”

Emily touched her arm. “We know, dear. We know how much you’ve been doing. It’s been terrific of you to stay here and help her, Sara, honestly. I also know she’s been trying to make you feel guilty about leaving, and that’s not right.”

“I know . . . but I just hate leaving everyone in the lurch. I mean, what’s going to happen to her now? What’s going to happen to this house?”

Emily and Jessica glanced at each other. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of her,” Emily promised. “We’ve always known that these questions would have to be faced, sooner or later.”

“At least Mother is relatively healthy, and it’s not an emergency,” Jessica said.

“Well, not yet,” Emily replied. “We’ll have to figure it out quickly, though. You never know with someone her age. The situation can change overnight.”

“Yes, it might,” Sara agreed, sounding worried.

“We’ll be looking in on her every day,” Jessica reminded her. “Until we find a better solution.”

Emily spooned leftover stuffing into a plastic container. “It would be nice if she would let us hire someone, just to keep her company. But you know how she is about strangers in the house.”

Sara gave a helpless little shrug. “Maybe once we leave, she’ll feel lonely and give in.”

“Yes, maybe.” Emily put an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Sara, please don’t worry. We’ll sort it out. Your grandmother knows you love her and she loves you, no matter how she’s acting right now. Once your byline shows up in the
Globe
, she’ll be the first one bragging about you all over town.”

“That’s probably true,” Sara said. “Remember when I first started working at the
Messenger
? Grandma and I weren’t even close then, and she saved all my articles and put them in a scrapbook.”

“Mother has always valued achievement,” Jessica said. “I’m sure she’s already proud of your new job.”

“Though she’d rather die than admit it,” Emily added. “She never has been easy—about anything.”

“Can I be of help?” Ezra poked his head through the half-opened door. “A man can operate a sponge or even a hand mixer, you know. It’s been scientifically proven.”

Emily smiled at him. “Ezra, we’d be delighted to have you prove that theory. So far, I’ve never witnessed the phenomenon.”

“Neither have I. Though Sam can make hot wings and pizza,” Jessica added.

“Step aside. I’ll show you how it’s done.” Ezra slipped off his jacket and hung it neatly on the back of a chair. “You realize I’m just trying to speed up the appearance of the pies.”

“I do,” Emily said with a laugh. “But it’s nice of you to admit it.” She handed him an apron, a bowl, and the hand mixer, and he quickly set up shop.

“Don’t ever underestimate seniors, my dear. We can be rather resourceful.”

“I wouldn’t dare, Ezra,” Emily promised. She already knew a bit about how crafty seniors could be. And in the days to come, Emily had a feeling, she would be learning entirely new chapters on the subject.