Unwrapping Christmas (4 page)
Celeste Horner had called to say that the weekly Bible study would be at eight-thirty, instead of nine in the morning. Thirty minutes wouldn’t wreck Rose’s schedule, but the time change meant she’d have to get up earlier if she wanted to stop by the post office first.
The front door opened and slammed shut. Ah yes, one of their resident teenagers had arrived home. It must be close to four. Footsteps headed her way. Rose waited. Anna appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I’m home.”
“So I hear. How are you?”
Enter the no-spin zone. Depending on how her daughter’s day had gone, they were either in for a short period of mother-daughter bonding or an explosion that would rupture gas lines all over Minnesota.
Anna, tall and blonde like her Scandinavian ancestors, with eyes the blue of a placid lake, slumped in a chair. “What’s for dinner?”
“Pizza.”
“Again?”
“Okay, you can have tuna.”
“Mom!”
“Pizza or tuna. Your choice.”
“I like pizza; I just don’t like it
four
times a week. Why can’t we ever have meatloaf? And mashed potatoes. Or pot roast, like Sara’s mother cooks.”
“There are starving children that would appreciate pizza . . . ”
“Mom.” Anna gave her an exasperated look.
The washer shut off and Rose disappeared into the utility room to load the dryer and put in a second load. They were either the dirtiest or the cleanest family on the block — she couldn’t decide. Wet towels and stained gym socks built up faster than she could tackle them. Back in a few minutes, she picked up the conversation. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix a real meal next week. Maybe spaghetti?”
“Spaghetti’s a real meal?” Anna slumped. Apparently something was on her mind other than her dinner entrée. “Nick Chalmers asked me to the church New Year’s Eve Watch party. Can I go with him?”
Rose’s internal alarm sounded. The Chalmers boy was three years older than Anna and had a truck so jazzed up it sounded like a Canaveral rocket. Her precious baby, in the same vehicle with that boy? On New Year’s Eve?
“Mom, it’s positively awesome that he even noticed me!” Anna sat up, apparently revived. “He’s so cute!”
Yeah, Rose could remember a few of those “cute” boys from her teen years, and she didn’t want her daughter going out with Nick, a senior in high school. “What happened to Dale?” Sharon Walker’s son. Good family, honor student from what she’d heard. Anna’s age, fifteen.
“He’s taking Cindy.” Anna got up from the table. “Can I go?”
“No, the Chalmers boy is three years older than you.” She wouldn’t further inflame her daughter by mentioning the truck, but Anna wasn’t getting in a rocket.
“Mom!”
“No.”
“That is so unfair.”
“Anna, I’d rather you dated someone nearer your own age.”
“Boys my age are yawns.”
“Sorry, the answer is still no.”
“Mom, it’s a church event. There will be chaperones.
It’s not like it’s a wild party or anything like that.”
“Anna, I don’t want you dating that boy. Period. End of subject. Got it?”
“You’ve never met him. How can you judge someone you don’t even know?”
“I don’t have to meet him. He’s three years older . . . in dog years, that’s — really old.”
“He’s not a dog!”
“Subject closed. Do you have homework?”
Anna heaved a sigh. “You are so unfair.”
Rose dismissed the criticism as Anna left the kitchen. Lately, more and more often their discussions ended in an argument with Anna walking away. Was this part of having a teenager, or was it part of an even deeper problem? Where was Joey when she needed him?
The pizza and Eric arrived simultaneously. Rose met the deliveryman at the door and paid him. Anna took the steaming cartons out of her hand, and Eric trailed his sister into the kitchen, lunging for a box. Before Rose could get ice in the glasses, the meal was in progress.
“What about prayer?”
“We said it to ourselves,” Eric declared around a slice of hot pepperoni.
This is wrong. Life should be saner. Dinner is about sitting
down together. Parents asking about their children’s day.
Prayer. Sharing. Like that would happen with Joey working
late every night and the rest of us on such a hectic schedule.
“Next time, let’s try saying it out loud.”
“I thought God could hear prayer whether we say it out loud or in our heart.” Eric gulped from his glass of Coke. “At least that’s what you’ve always said.”
She hated it when they quoted her words back to her. “So you were listening?”
“I listen.” He reached for another slice of pizza. “Where are you going tonight?”
“Choir practice.” He knew that, why would he ask?
His face was a blank mask. Anna pulled a string of cheese off her pizza and munched on it, avoiding Rose’s eyes. What evil plot was she hatching?
“Are you going to make it to our school Christmas concert?” Her daughter’s voice had a confrontational tone.
“Of course I’ll be there. Why wouldn’t I?”
Anna shrugged.
“Don’t forget, Mr. Whitley is having parents’ day for the science class,” Eric reminded her. “Dad has to work so I know he won’t be there, and I don’t want to ride with Ben and his parents.”
“I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss it.” She’d have to look at her calendar and see what she could juggle around. The offhand way Eric mentioned parents’ day told her better than words that she’d better make it or have a good reason why not.
She’d make a point of being there.
Fifteen minutes later the kids dashed out the front door, late for their church Christmas program practice. The church bus was running and they’d voted to ride it instead of going with her.
Sighing, Rose dropped into a kitchen chair and put her hands on her throbbing forehead. Joey. She needed to talk to him about Anna and Nick
Chalmers. She knew the subject would come up again, repeatedly. Anna had a way of manipulating her father’s opinion, but not this time. Anna was not dating Nick Chalmers. The hall clock chimed, and she glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes to get to choir practice.
Rose’s cell phone rang as she was dabbing on lipstick. She checked the caller ID and decided to let it go to voice mail. Sue Barton, a member of their Sunday school family, was a dear, but a hopeless hypochondriac who liked to endlessly drone about her latest anticipated illness. No doubt she wanted to discuss Jean and Ken. Rose hesitated.
She should answer. No. Focus, Rose. The choir director hated it when members were late. She’d have to call Sue back when she found a spare moment. She sprinted out the door, searching for her car keys in her purse.
Jean was at choir practice, head high and twin red spots burning her cheeks. Rose made a point of sitting beside her. “I’ve been meaning to call you.”
Her friend glanced over and offered a wan smile. “I’ve been in and out. Did you need something?”
“No.” Of course she didn’t need anything. She would have called out of concern, but then time slipped away. “How’s Ken?”
Jean’s features softened. “You know men; they take these things better than we do.”
Rose nodded. Joey was the Rock of Gibraltar in a crisis. If anything serious ever happened to him . . . She dismissed the awful thought. Joey’s heart was strong as a lion. She relished the twinge of relief, and then felt guilty that her life was great compared to Jean’s. She’d make time to call and check on her more often. She
would
.
The choir members filed into their seats, and Linda Stoner distributed new music. As she stepped into the choir loft, Clay Lewis’s walker tipped over. Linda stumbled, dropping her armload of music. The loose-leaf pages swirled up and around like a miniature snowstorm.
Clay was an irascible monkey, eighty-six and getting crabbier every day. He remained in the choir only because of the director’s mercy. “Oops.” He chuckled.
Linda ignored the teasing note, but Rose noticed the deep teeth indentations on her bottom lip.
The elderly man riffled through the sheet music. “What’s wrong with the old songs? Can’t abide this new caterwauling. Sounds like a pack of hens crowing.”
“Hens don’t crow.” Linda handed him another sheet.
“And these new songs aren’t music either.”
Ah, Christmas — the spirit of joy, warm hearts, laughing
faces.
Rose leaned back in her chair, blocked out the noisy room, and thought about the nice hot bubble bath she was going to take when she got home.
After practice, Jade came up to her as she was getting ready to leave. “Rose, may I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure, Jade. What’s up?”
More buttonless donations? I’ ll
scream! Shame on you, Rose. You’re just tired.
“Well, I gave a bag of clothing to the thrift shop. I was in a hurry, so I left the items by the front door.”
“Ah. Was that you?” Surely she didn’t want the things back?
Jade hesitated. “I don’t know how to say this, it’s so embarrassing.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Rose asked her. She had a million things needing her attention at home, not to mention Joey.
Jade sighed. “I don’t suppose a lot of people know this, but I’m taking care of my mother. She has Alzheimer’s.
Eventually I’ll have to put her in a home, but I’m trying to keep her as long as I can.”
“I didn’t know, Jade. I’m so sorry.” Rose cringed. Did she walk around in a blind stupor? This was news to her.
“Yes, well, Mom found the clothes, and I didn’t know until today that she had cut off all the buttons. I found them in a plastic bag in her nightstand.”
Rose swallowed.
When will you learn, Rose? Never
judge, not until you’ve walked a mile in another’s shoes.
“I wondered if I could give you the buttons, or maybe I could just take the clothes back and sew them on myself.”
“Oh no, I can do it,” Rose assured her. “Do you have the buttons with you?”
“Right here.” Jade fished a plastic bag out of her purse. “I appreciate this so much, Rose. She can be a handful, but she’s worth the trouble.”
“I understand, really I do.” They said good-night, and Rose watched as Jade made her way out of the church. Everyone had a story, a secret hurt. If she just wasn’t so quick to think the worst . . . Or fail to notice. Joey’s earlier accusation rang in her ear, and she wondered if he was correct.
Later, while sugar cookies baked in the oven, Rose checked her email. She was on so many prayer and chat loops, it sometimes took hours to wade through them. Joey was sprawled in the recliner, comatose. She didn’t want to disturb him. They needed to talk about Anna and this Chalmers kid, but it could wait. It would have to wait. Her husband was so exhausted, he wouldn’t be coherent this time of night.
Rose sighed. How long had it been since she and Joey had spent time just talking? When they were first married, they could talk for hours about anything and everything. Then his business grew, they had kids, and suddenly there wasn’t time anymore. She took a sheet of cookies out of the oven and transferred them to a cooling rack. A nagging thought felt like a pebble in her shoe, annoying, persistent. She’d had more time for family, for Joey, before she got so involved with volunteer work.
Lord, am I wrong?
There was so much need in the world, surely God wanted her to do her share to help anywhere she could. And it sure seemed there was no end to the needs.
What do you want me to do?
She waited for a heavenly answer.
When she fell into bed three hours later, exhausted, she was still waiting.
The Advent wreath is a popular symbol of the beginning of the church year. It is a circular evergreen wreath (real or artificial) with five candles, four around the wreath and one in the center. Th e colors of the candles vary with different traditions, but there are usually three purple or blue candles and one pink or rose candle.
“Girls’ night out already?” Joey tried to pilfer a canapé off the tray Rose was finishing. She batted his fingers aside. “Hands off! You’ll have to take the kids out for burgers tonight.”
“Not again. Rose, I’m bushed. Isn’t there a can of something in the house?”
Rose opened a cabinet and looked. “There’s some Bac-Os and a can of hominy.” She caught the hint of irritation in his groan and decided to ignore it. There really was no way she could miss this meeting. Linda would track her down and make her go. Women’s night out made the week. Besides, they’d exchange gifts tonight, and she couldn’t leave her person empty-handed.
She encased the tray of canapés in plastic wrap and stored it in the refrigerator while her husband stepped to the sink and picked around in the pieces of discarded cucumber shavings. “I was hoping for a roast chicken tonight.”
She slammed the refrigerator door. “I’m sorry — I’m only one person! Can’t you take the kids to McDonald’s?” She aimed a kiss at his cheek on her way out. “By the time I shopped for the vegetables, crackers, pâté, and cheese, and put it all together, there wasn’t time to start anything for dinner. I’ll try to be home early, and don’t let the kids touch the tray. It’s for the deacon’s meeting tomorrow night. Oh, and can you stop by the store on the way home and get milk?”
“I thought you were just at the
store.”
“I was, but I forgot milk. Better pick up a box of cereal too.” She left before the conversation got more heated. She shoved Eric’s bicycle out of the drive before she could back out.
Sliding the transmission into reverse, Rose cringed when she caught a brief glimpse of her husband standing at the kitchen window, eating a discarded cucumber slice.
Rose, you’re neglecting your family.
Agreed, but it was Christmas, and Christmas came only once a year. After Christmas, she’d be a better wife.
After the holiday, things would settle down, and she’d fix a roast with mashed potatoes, gravy, and sugar snap peas.
Seconds later she gunned the car, noting the dash clock. She was going to be
so
late.
