Unwrapping Christmas (8 page)
“Thank you, God,” she murmured. A fall that hard could have caused considerable damage. She’d been lucky, but her right arm ached all the way to her shoulder.
“Do you want me to call someone or an ambulance? That was a nasty spill.”
“I’m okay, really.” If her spine was split down the middle, she couldn’t afford a spare moment. She had a dinner to prepare. Thanking the good Samaritan for his doctoring skills, she held tightly to her cart, using it as a crutch, and entered the packed store. The shelves already looked as though they had been stripped by locusts. Shoppers and carts jammed the aisles. Frantic mothers with feisty toddlers tried to shop and pacify fretful babies at the same time.
Rose quickly located her items, but by the time she stood in the checkout lane, her right wrist hurt so badly that she was near tears. The cashier totaled the items and Rose wrote out the check left-handed. Her sacker wheeled the groceries out to the car and put them in the trunk. She eased in behind the wheel, bumping her wrist in the process. Pain, agonizing and razor sharp radiated through her, followed by a wave of nausea. For one horrible moment, she thought she would throw up. She couldn’t drive home like this. What if she had an accident? Fumbling in her purse for her cell phone, she fought the urge to put her head on the steering wheel and bawl. Awkwardly using her left hand, she dialed Joey’s phone. He answered on the first ring, and at the sound of his voice, she burst into tears.
“Rose?”
“Oh, Joey.” She couldn’t finish.
“Rose? Honey? Are you all right?” Alarm radiated through his tone.
“I fell in the grocery parking lot.” She choked on a sob.
“You’re hurt?”
“I think I broke my wrist. I can’t drive.”
“I’ll be right there.”
He hung up, and she breathed a prayer of relief. Joey was on his way. He’d take care of her. Minutes later he arrived, and their next-door neighbor, Mike O’Hara, pulled in behind him.
Joey opened the car door and helped her out, pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay, honey. Let’s get you to a doctor.”
Mike reached into the car and handed Rose her purse.
“I’m taking your car home. I’ll have my wife bring me back for my car.”
“The trunk is full of groceries. Ninety-five dollars worth, too much to let ruin,” Rose told him.
“The kids can take care of them.” Joey held her arm, gently moving her to his car. Once he had her settled, he settled in on the driver’s side and reached for his phone. Rose heard his half of the conversation.
“Your mother’s been hurt. I’m taking her to the emergency room.”
Pause.
“She’s going to be okay, but Mike’s bringing the car home. The trunk is full of groceries. You and Eric get them inside and put them away. I’ll phone you from the emergency room.”
Rose leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. She could relax. Joey was in control.
Her mind shifted from reality to the absurd; it was Christmas Eve. She had a million and one things to do. She did not have time for a medical emergency. She hadn’t put the turkey in the oven, a turkey that required at least seven hours to bake. The kids were home alone. Anna was old enough to take over, but would she? Rose realized she had never taken the time to impress upon Anna the importance of household responsibilities. Today was not the best time to start. It was Christmas Eve! She couldn’t disappoint her family.
The emergency room was full. Evidently half the town had fallen on the ice. Something about a waiting room stymied her ability to converse. Maybe because there was such a lack of privacy. Her wrist hurt too much to hold a magazine, so she sat quietly, watching the minutes, precious minutes, tick by. So much to do. How would she get to it all?
Rose sighed. “Why today of all days? How am I going to get everything done before the family arrives?”
Joey patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
She squinted at him. The man didn’t have a clue what all was involved. He’d be as helpless in the kitchen as a monkey with a fat crayon.
He caught her expression.
“What?”
“You’re going to fix the turkey and dressing?”
He grinned. “Sure. Why not?”
She raised her eyebrows. Why not? She snickered. At least the cookies were baked, cranberry salad ready, cornbread crumbled for the dressing. Check. Still, so much remained to be done.
“Dinner will be ruined. Anna can’t cook anything but boxed macaroni and cheese — and maybe a brownie mix. I should have taken more time to teach her how to prepare a holiday meal.”
“Rose?” The emergency room nurse peered around the door. “The doctor can take you now.”
Joey helped Rose to her feet, and she headed for the doorway. When she turned to look at Joey, he was reaching for his cell phone. “I’m calling the kids. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Two and a half hours later, he supported her weight and led her into their bedroom. “Easy, hon, easy.” In seconds, she was tucked into bed, engulfed in a thickening fog.
“Are they sure my wrist isn’t broken?”
“You heard the doctor. Severely sprained, but not broken. Ankle sprained . . . a few bruises.”
“Everything feels broken. I ache all over.”
“You took a nasty fall, it’s no wonder you’re sore. Lie back and let the pain medication do its job.”
She struggled to throw off the blanket and spread. “Have to get the turkey in the oven, peel potatoes, make stuffing.”
Her husband gently pressed her back to the pillow. “You’re not going anywhere right now.”
“Joey!”
“Stay, Rose! The pain medication has knocked you for a loop. You’re down for the count, girl. Now lie still and rest.”
“But the turkey — ”
“The turkey is in the oven.” He readjusted the blanket, snapping it briskly into place.
“How’d it get there?” She realized how silly she sounded. Did she think it had flown into the oven? Anna had risen to the occasion. Bless her sweet heart.
“Anna’s got it under control. She called Jamie for instructions.”
Oh brother
. “Jamie?
She
knows how to cook a turkey?” She’d never shown any inclination to cook one before. Christmas was ruined. Without her, the family was helpless.
I’m so sorry I was so clumsy, Lord.
“Anna can cook if she wants to. Give her a chance to show you what she can do. She might surprise you.”
Maybe, but she practically had to beg her daughter to feed the cat.
Rose sensed her husband’s frustration. “Are you angry at me?” she asked him.
“Not angry, Rose. Frustrated.” Sighing, he sat down on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired, so very tired. Why hadn’t she noticed the worry lines around his eyes earlier?
“With me? I slipped on the ice, Joey. I know I should have put the turkey in the oven before I left, but I wasn’t going to be gone more than half an hour.”
“You’re lucky you haven’t hit the wall sooner.” He rose from the bed and started to pace the carpet. “Good grief, haven’t you noticed? This house has turned into a three-ring circus. We never sit down for a meal together — our basic vocabulary to the kids is, ‘Hurry. Get in the car. We’re going to be late.’ We race around like fools, doing for everyone but ourselves.”
“Anyone can slip and fall,” she said.
“You do too much, Rose. Your lifestyle is an accident looking for a place to happen. Let someone else experience the blessing of helping out. You’re hogging it all.”
Hogging? She blunted his criticism by jerking the blanket over her head with her left hand. How dare he condemn her for wanting to make the holiday season perfect, for wanting to serve God and others throughout the year? Yes, she was busy, too busy. But what woman today with a family and social and church activities wasn’t busy? Was he equating her fall as punishment for family neglect? She was grocery shopping when the accident happened, not idly sitting in a teahouse nibbling on crumpets with her friends!
He yanked the blanket off her head. “Rose, this has got to stop. Does the president have to declare National Eat-a-Meal-Together Day before this family slows down enough to examine our priorities?”
He had never spoken to her in this tone, not ever. The holiday madness was getting to him.
“Life will slow down, eventually. Christmas is here and I’ve finished the shopping, the wrapping. Almost everything is done.”
He paused, turning to face her. “Rose, Jesus preached a simple ‘religion.’ Forgiveness, loving one’s enemy, ser vice from the heart, not done out of guilt or obligation. Man has chosen to put his own spin on the matter.” His features softened. “We need to get back to the basics, hon.
Home. Family. Time spent together building souls that will last for eternity, not for another meeting. I’m lonely. I
miss
you. Come home to me, Rose.”
He missed her? She’d neglected him that badly? Tears swelled to her eyes. “You could have told me that you resent the time I spend on volunteer activities.”
Was the lack of communication between them a symptom or a cause of a harried life?
“I did tell you, you just didn’t listen. But it isn’t just church activities, it’s everything. Our son was caught smoking in the school bathroom. Our son, Rose. We stood in front of God and promised to rear him to the best of our abilities. Maybe if we weren’t both gone all the time, Eric would have made a better choice.”
“He knows better than to smoke.”
“He knows his parents are so preoccupied trying to do good that they’re never around when he needs them. Maybe he would discuss his problems with us if we were available, but we’re always due at some meeting or function to serve others. Well what’s wrong with serving our own, Rose? What’s so wrong with nurturing, devoting every single day, not just a skimpy portion of it, to the very souls we brought into this world?”
Hot tears coursed down her cheeks. Everything he said was true, but wasn’t he accusing her unfairly? She had lived on the fast track so long, she didn’t know if she had jumped rail. God had blessed them so abundantly —surely she was obligated to give back? How did she get off the gerbil wheel? Surely this busyness wasn’t his plan, but how else did she make her life count?
Sighing, Joey eased back down on the bed. She groaned with sweet relief when he began to gently massage her back, carefully kneading the bruised tissue. “I’m not blaming you; we’re both at fault. Everything we do — that you do —
is
important, but we need to focus on
something
, do it well, and stop this frantic lifestyle.”
The pain medication boggled her thought pattern. “God gave his Son’s life for me. I think he got cheated.” Her voice seemed to come from far off — a Vicodin tunnel.
He chuckled. “Honey, what are we trying to prove? Why do we live anxious, driven lives when all we are called to do is take his yoke and lean on him? We are his children. We have nothing to prove and certainly nothing to gain in this world.”
“But he commands us to serve him and others.”
“And what better ser vice than being good stewards of what he has placed in our hands — our children, our finances, our relationship, our steadfast commitment to his grace. We need to decide who we can encourage with a phone call, a note, a good laugh, or a word of comfort. Those are the ‘meetings’ that will make a difference in this world.”
She allowed the wisdom to wash over her. He was right, of course. They had nothing to prove: the cross had proved it all. He patted her, whispering, “Rest. I’ll look after our family.”
She reached out and blindly caught his hand, a hand that had loved and unselfishly protected her for twenty years. Her ser vice to God was founded in respect, fidelity, and love. Her Lord asked for nothing more, nothing less. Why did she, and others, want to hang a price tag on God’s grace? “I love you, Joey.”
“I love you back, Rose.” She listened to his soft footfall cross the room. Then the bedroom door quietly closed.
Jesus preached a simple religion. Man had complicated it and Rose abetted it.
A soft knock sounded.
“Yes?”
Anna poked her head through the open doorway. “Is it all right if I call Nick?”
“No!”
The door slammed.
Rose lay back wondering why the same God who preached patience in all things had thought up teenagers.
Rose woke with a start, confused. Where was she? Fragrant smells drifted from the kitchen. She could hear voices beyond the closed bedroom door. She stiffened. The family. She struggled to sit up, then quickly dropped back to the pillow.
A tap, followed by the door cracking open, and her sister-in-law, Jo, peered in. “Awake? We’re about ready to eat. I thought you might need some help.”
Rose tried to clear her foggy brain. “Help in doing what?”
“Getting ready to eat. It’s the family dinner. That medicine’s knocked you for a loop!”
Food? Eat? She couldn’t cook! She couldn’t think!
Jo crossed the room and sat down on the side of the bed. “Listen, I’m sorry I refused to have the dinner. It was very selfish of me, and next year I’m having it, no excuses.”
Rose struggled to sit up, but it was impossible with Jo in the way. “You all came anyway?”
“Miss Christmas Eve? Not on your life! Joey called and pretty much laid down the law. He told us to get over here and get busy helping Anna cook.” She grinned. “From the way he snapped out orders, we didn’t dare disobey. Even Charlene showed up wearing an apron.”
“I didn’t know Charlene owned one.”
“Must have been a joke shower gift. I’m sure she didn’t go out and buy one for the occasion.” Jo suddenly paused, forehead wrinkled in a frown. “But then again, recalling Joey’s tone, maybe she did.”
“He shouldn’t have done that.” Rose suppressed a grin. “Is Jamie here too?”
“Present and accounted for. She’s the one who showed Anna how to cook the turkey, and she’s peeled enough potatoes to feed half the town. Joey evidently put the fear in her. Charlene’s enjoying herself so much, she asked what cookbook I’d recommend. She thinks she’d like to learn how to bake a cake.”
Rose laughed outright. “Hand me my robe. I have to see this.”
