The Christmas Children (9 page)

Carissa soon became aware of an argument between Alex and Julie.

“I want to watch cartoons,” Julie shouted.

“And I want to watch the hockey game,” Alex said. “You're spoiled, Julie.”

“Am not!”

“You are, too.”

Julie tried to snatch the remote from Alex's grip. Carissa was surprised at Alex's reaction, for she'd noticed that both he and Lauren gave in to Julie. She knew it was time for her to intervene, but she didn't have the first clue about how to stop a quarrel between siblings.

“Thanks, Lauren, for helping,” Carissa said, and with a sinking heart, she went into the great room.

“Julie, you've been watching cartoons for a half hour,” she said. “It's Alex's turn to choose a show.”

A belligerent light glittered in Julie's brown eyes. “No!”

“Then, go upstairs and watch the television in my room.”

“No!” she shouted. “I'm gonna go and watch television with Uncle Paul. He'll let me watch my shows.”

Julie started determinedly toward the back door. Carissa moved quickly and blocked the exit.

“No!” Carissa said. “Your place is here.”

Julie started screaming, and kicked Carissa's leg savagely.

Carissa couldn't believe that this child, who'd been so sweet and outgoing for the past week, had turned into a little monster before her eyes.

Julie fell to the floor, kicking and screaming. Alex continued to watch television. Lauren stood behind the couch staring at her sister.

Rubbing her injured leg, Carissa said, “Well, what do we do? I told you I don't know anything about children.”

“Nothing,” Alex said. “She'll wear herself out after a while and cry herself to sleep.”

“Sometimes Mama gave her time-out—made her go in a room by herself until she could behave,” Lauren said.

“I wouldn't try that here,” Alex advised. “When she has these fits, she sometimes throws things. Didn't matter at home, 'cause we didn't have nuthin'. I don't want her to tear up this house.”

Carissa certainly didn't want her to destroy any of Naomi's things, either, but she didn't know if she could stand the screaming much longer. Her nerves were already frayed from the emotional scene with Paul earlier in the day. He'd said he wouldn't come back until she needed him. She certainly needed him now—but she wouldn't call for him.

“Does she do this often?”

“Anytime she can't get her way,” Lauren said.

“When our mom was so sick,” Alex said, “we let her get by with a lot of stuff, so's not to worry Mom. But I'm tired of it.”

Carissa limped to a chair and Lauren came to her.

“Did she hurt you bad?”

“Just a bruise, I think. I'll be all right.”

Carissa made room in the chair for Lauren to sit beside her, but she held her hands over her ears. The child's piercing screams seemed to compound the pain in her head, which had been hurting for hours. She put her arm around Lauren, and the girl snuggled close to her. She knew these children needed a mother's love, but did she have any maternal love to give?

Julie's screams lessened gradually over the next hour and finally ceased. Lauren peered around the chair at her sister.

“She's asleep,” Lauren whispered.

“Now what?” Carissa asked, feeling very foolish for having to ask for advice.

“Wait a while, and then we can take her to bed,” Alex said.

After another half hour, Julie was still sound asleep. Lauren awakened her, and she docilely accepted Carissa's hand and went upstairs to bed.

“Is it all right if I stay up and watch television?” Alex asked.

“Keep the volume low and don't stay up too late,” Carissa said. “I've had a hard day. I have to get some rest.”

Lauren helped Julie undress and slip into her nightgown. “I'd better sleep with her,” Lauren said.

“Surely that isn't necessary,” Carissa said. There had only been two nights that Lauren had wet the bed, but she didn't want her to have an accident in Julie's bed. If these kids stayed much longer, she'd have to refurnish Naomi's house.

“I ought to, Miss Cara,” Lauren responded, compassion in her voice. “She knows she's been bad, and she needs to know that we still love her, anyway.”

Words of wisdom from such a small child, Carissa thought. She reached out and hugged Lauren tightly, for she needed love, too. Carissa swallowed a sob when Lauren leaned into her embrace.

“You're a good sister,” Carissa said. “I'm going to bed, too, but call me if you need anything.”

Carissa couldn't believe that such a tiny girl could have caused so much pain, but Julie had kicked her on the shinbone. She rubbed the affected area with
some liniment she found in the medicine cabinet. She also took a couple of ibuprofen for the pain and swelling.

But she didn't go to sleep. All day long she'd avoided any thoughts about her altercation with Paul. She didn't blame him for his harsh words. She'd had them coming. Why hadn't she been wise enough to accept his kiss under the mistletoe as a friendly gesture and let it go at that? If she hadn't been so captivated by his words and leaned toward him, he wouldn't have done anything more. Why, oh why, had she let down her defenses to become enamored of Paul? For twenty years she'd built a wall between her and the male population—a wall high enough to keep all of them at a distance. When a man made romantic overtures, she froze him with a glance. Why hadn't she done that with Paul? The answer was simple—she hadn't cared about any of her other admirers. Paul was different.

She wanted him around her, so much so that she was afraid to admit it to herself.

C
arissa finally drifted into a light sleep, only to be wakened by Lauren, who was shaking her shoulder.

“Miss Cara, come quick!” she said. “Julie's sick in the bed.”

Fearing the worst, Carissa rushed into the other room. Julie was sitting up, gagging, and Carissa said, “Hurry. Into the bathroom.”

“Too late,” Lauren said, pointing at the comforter where Julie had already spewed the contents of her stomach.

Groaning, Carissa eased into a chair beside the bed to get her breath. The room smelled like a hospital, and nausea gripped Carissa. But she forced herself to deal with the situation.

“If you still feel sick, come to the bathroom with me,” she said.

Julie took Carissa's hand and walked docilely to
the bathroom with Lauren trailing behind. Julie's gown was soiled.

“Could she have eaten something at school today that made her sick?” she asked Lauren.

“We had vegetable soup,” Lauren said, “but she usually gets sick when she throws a temper fit.”

“Please bring a clean nightgown, Lauren, while I wash her face and hands. Are you still feeling sick, Julie?”

“I don't think so.”

“You'll have to sleep in Lauren's bed the rest of the night. I'll get some ginger ale from the refrigerator, and if you sip on that, it will settle your stomach.”

When she went downstairs for the beverage, Alex was still watching television, and it was one o'clock in the morning.

“Julie's sick, huh?”

“Yes, and since you're still up, I'm going to take the soiled bedclothes to the basement and put them in the washer.”

She cracked the upstairs window to clear the odor, tucked the girls into bed and covered them with a heavy blanket. Impulsively, she leaned down and kissed both girls' foreheads.

“Try to sleep now.”

When she came up from the basement after putting the bed linens in the washer, she sat beside Alex on the couch. He muted the television volume.

“You should be in bed,” she said.

“I'm too worried to sleep.” When she didn't comment, he said, “You and Paul had a fight, didn't you.”

“Do you think that's any of your concern?”

“Yes, it is. You both agreed to look after us, and I was starting to think things might work out for me and my sisters. We're gonna be dumped again.”

“We didn't promise you anything permanent.”

“I know, but I could hope, couldn't I? I can tell that you and Paul like each other, so I thought maybe you'd get married and adopt us.”

Carissa put her hand over his clenched one. “Alex, Paul and I haven't known each other any longer than we've known you. We've lived into our forties without getting married—we're not apt to take such a step now. Marriage is a serious move for anyone, and especially for two people who are set in their ways. I'm sorry that you were expecting more than you'll get, but you knew this was a temporary situation from the first.”

“I know that in a few weeks, it's going to be up to me to look out for my sisters again. But I trusted you to help us.”

Trying to control her temper, Carissa crossed the floor and turned off the television. “Go to bed, Alex. I've had all I can handle today.”

Sulkily, he obeyed her, and Carissa went upstairs wondering if Alex would try to run away again before morning. Without even changing into nightclothes she took off her shoes and slipped under the
blankets. Emotionally and physically spent, at that moment, Carissa didn't care what happened.

 

Paul could tell by the woebegone expressions on the children's faces that all wasn't well. He drove slowly, hoping to find out what had happened the night before.

“Nice morning,” he said, motioning to the snow-topped evergreen trees glistening in the morning sun. “Looks like nature is getting ready for Christmas, too.”

No answer.

“How'd you like the decorations Carissa put up yesterday?”

“Nice,” Lauren said.

After another period of silence, while Paul grew tense with apprehension, Julie said, “I was bad last night.”

“You were worse than bad—you were a monster!” Alex said.

Julie's lower lip trembled. “I missed you, Uncle Paul.”

“And when Miss Cara stood in front of the door to keep her from coming to your apartment,” Lauren said, “she threw one of her fits and kicked Miss Cara on the leg.”

“That wasn't a nice thing to do,” Paul said, angry at himself because he'd deserted Carissa when she needed him.

“But it got worse,” Alex said. “Julie screamed and carried on until she cried herself to sleep.”

“Then she got sick and threw up in the bed,” Lauren said. “We changed Julie's clothes. Then Miss Cara had to wash the sheets and things.”

“And if Miss Cara puts us out, it will be Julie's fault,” Lauren said.

“What makes you think she'll put you out?” Paul said.

“I wouldn't blame her if she did,” Alex said.

“She looked awful sad while she was fixing our breakfast this morning,” Julie said.

“Did you tell her you were sorry?”

Julie shook her head.

They had arrived at the school by then, and as the children left the truck, Paul said, “Don't worry about it today. You can apologize to Miss Cara tonight.”

Paul parked the truck at the café and went inside to order his breakfast. In his anger, he'd told Carissa he wasn't returning until she asked him to. If she hadn't called for him the night before, when she was having so much trouble, it was obvious she wouldn't bend. Was it up to him to make the first move?

Paul had his pride, too, and it wasn't his nature to apologize for his actions. He knew he'd never forgiven Jennifer for her treatment of him. He hadn't railed at her the way he had at Carissa, but when Jennifer had written that she was breaking their engagement, asking for his understanding, he hadn't
answered. He'd left Yuletide the next day and he'd neither seen nor heard from Jennifer since.

He sipped absentmindedly on his cup of coffee and stared into space. Through his stubbornness, was he going to allow his relationship with Carissa to fail? She was the only one who'd touched his heart in twenty years—in fact, he'd decided that he was incapable of loving again. He didn't think he was in love with Carissa yet, but given time, he believed he could learn to love her.

Pastor Erskine interrupted his reverie when he stopped by the booth where Paul sat and said that he wanted to have a committee meeting in the afternoon. Paul went back to his apartment and waited, hoping that Carissa would contact him and tell him about the episode of the night before. She didn't. He didn't see any sign of life at the house. Still not knowing what move to make, he waited until eleven o'clock before going over.

His heart pounding like a jackhammer, and wondering if Carissa would even speak to him, Paul stepped softly up on the deck. He lifted his hand to knock, and halted. Carissa was lying on the couch, on her back, one arm resting over her face in a defensive gesture. He watched for a few minutes, started to walk away, but then turned and knocked on the door. Carissa swung into a sitting position, rubbed her eyes and looked toward the door.

Would she turn him away?

She favored her right leg as she walked toward the door, and Paul realized that Julie's kick had hurt her.

She unlocked the door and turned back into the room. Presented with her back, Paul didn't know how to proceed. Somehow he perceived that apologies weren't necessary or perhaps even wanted.

“I saw Pastor Erskine in the café,” he said. “He wants to have a meeting of the planning committee at one o'clock.”

Carissa glanced at the clock. “Then, I'd better get ready.” Without looking at Paul, she went upstairs.

He watched her rigid back with alarm. Her eyes had been icy and unresponsive. He wondered if he should call out his apologies to her. But he let her go without saying anything.

Carissa wondered if Paul intended for them to go together to the meeting, or if he'd return to his apartment and drive to town on his own. At that point, it really didn't matter to her. The episodes of the previous night had left her so depressed that she didn't care about anything. Not Paul. Not the Christmas celebrations. Not the children. Nothing.

When Carissa came down an hour later, feeling a little less exhausted after a shower, shampoo and a change of clothes, Paul was waiting in the kitchen.

“I'll have lunch ready in a few minutes,” he said, as if no harsh words had ever passed between them.

Without answering, she sat at the table. He placed two grilled-cheese sandwiches and a plate of apple slices on the table. He'd brewed a pot of tea.

“I thought hot tea would go well. The bank sign registered zero this morning.”

“I like a cup of hot tea on a frosty morning,” Carissa replied.

They talked very little during lunch.

“The meeting will probably last until time for the kids to be out of school. If you want to take your SUV, we can bring them home.”

When they left the house, she handed him her keys. “Will you drive, please?”

He took the keys, wondering why she wanted him to drive. Had Julie's kick injured her badly? Should she stop by the clinic? But Carissa had been making her own decisions for a long time. She didn't need a nursemaid, and in her present frame of mind, she'd be quick to tell him so. But Carissa didn't seem to be angry at him. She conveyed an “I just don't care” attitude, which alarmed him more than if she'd vented her anger on him.

The meeting lasted for two hours, and by the end, Carissa's head hurt so much that she could hardly concentrate. The lack of sleep and tension were taking their toll.

She wrote a check to pay for the light display that was already being erected on the lakeshore and gave it to Pastor Erskine. He said it would be operating a week before Christmas, and would stay lighted through New Year's Eve.

Two other women had volunteered to help Carissa with the costumes for the progressive nativity scene.
The pastor asked if she and Paul would play the roles of Mary and Joseph in the pageant, which would take place on the Sunday night before Christmas. They both agreed, but Carissa felt, rather than saw, the frequent glances Belva Townsend sent her way. As soon as the meeting adjourned, Belva drew Carissa aside and into a vacant room.

“I told you to contact me if you had any trouble,” Belva said.

Eager to unburden herself to this knowledgeable woman, Carissa rubbed her head and said, “I have a headache now, but my role as surrogate mother is really wearing me down.” She told Belva about Lauren's bed-wetting habits, Julie's tantrum and the subsequent results, and Alex's hopes that she would keep them permanently. She omitted any mention of her relationship to Paul, and if the woman suspected that Carissa hadn't told her everything, she was wise enough not to mention it.

“Lauren's problem is a common one among children. The cause is usually a small bladder—it hasn't grown enough yet. Encourage her to go to the bathroom often, and, if you're awake in the middle of the night, see that she goes then. Pediatricians don't all agree with me, but I think the situation can be magnified by emotional distress. And the same thing probably caused Julie's tantrum. These children's mother died only a few weeks ago. They don't have a home, and they've been wandering around the state on their own. I noticed in school this morning that
all three of them were not as exuberant as they'd been. Alex probably thinks you'll put them out because of the way Julie acted.”

“No matter what they do, I'll keep my promise to look after them until after Christmas,” said Carissa. “I tried to tell Alex last night that they need parents who know what they're doing. I'm ill-equipped by practice or temperament to take on a family of three. I'd be miserable, and they would be, too.”

“Paul promised to help,” Belva reminded her.

“But he has to return to his job before the first of the year.”

“It
is
a dilemma,” Belva agreed. “They need love more than anything else—if we can only find someone to give it to them! I've put the situation on the prayer chain—our church family is praying for a solution. We'll have to find out who those children are and where they lived.”

“Julie has taken a distinct liking to Paul. He might be able to surprise the information out of her. But I don't suppose we should disrupt them any more until after Christmas.”

After the children were strapped into their seat belts for the drive to the house, in a quiet little voice, Julie said, “I'm sorry for being so mean, Miss Cara.”

Carissa nodded and felt the pain increase. “I know you are, Julie. Just forget about it. I'm sorry you were upset—perhaps I let my own problems override your needs. How did things go at school today?”

“Somebody stole some money,” Lauren said, “and the pastor called us all into the auditorium and talked to us about stealing.”

“Do they know who took the money?” Paul asked.

“He didn't say,” Alex said.

When they arrived at the house, Julie tugged on Paul's hand and drew him inside. “I missed you last night,” she said.

“It's good to be missed,” he answered. “I'll make up for it by fixing what you like for supper. What do you want?”

“Spaghetti!” Julie said.

“No, pizza!” Lauren said.

Seeing Julie's pouting look, Paul knelt in front of her and helped her take off her snow boots.

“No more tantrums out of you, young lady. If you hadn't been so nasty, we'd have had spaghetti, but as it is, you'll have to wait until another time for your favorite. I guess I shouldn't have asked for suggestions, Lauren, because I don't have any pizza ingredients. We'll have pizza tomorrow night. Alex, you choose tonight's menu.”