Songs of Christmas (18 page)

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

M
RS.
E
LLIOT?
M
RS.
E
LLIOT?
C
AN 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.

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 she 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.