The Christmas Light (10 page)

Miriam rubs her head. “Did you hear him last night as he repeatedly said, ‘Listen to me!
The
baby of all babies has been born’?” She looks at Gloria. “
The
baby of all babies has been born!” She throws her hands in the air. “How many times did I tell him that the line is, ‘Unto us a child is born. Unto us a Savior is given’?”

Gloria laughs, thinking about it. “But he was so cute with his little finger pointing in the air. And you know what? Every time he said it a chill ran down my spine. ‘Listen to me! You don’t want to miss this!
The
baby of all babies has been born! No other baby, before or after, will be like him’.” She reaches over and pats Miriam’s hand. “It feels this way before every Nativity. Everything will pull together.”

Miriam leans onto the table, looking at her as if she has just been awakened after a week-long sleep. “Will it really?”

“Of course. Eat your pie.”

Miriam looks at her plate. “Who eats pie at nine-thirty in the morning?”

Gloria takes a bite and makes yummy noises in her throat. “Respectable people with great taste, that’s who.”

Miriam takes a bite and cocks her head as if to say it’s not such a bad idea after all. “So, you’re saying that all the varied discussions of farts and boogers among the angel choir will somehow pay off in the end?”

Gloria raises her eyebrows and sticks her fork in the air. “Sure! That’s what I’m saying!”

“Aunt Gloria, do you have a thermometer?” Ryan is walking through the living room, toward the kitchen.

“It’s up in the bathroom. What’s wrong?”

“Sofia was complaining that her stomach hurt her yesterday but it was after dinner and she had had two pieces of pie so I assumed it was because she ate too much. She’s complaining again this morning and when I touch her it feels like she has a fever.”

Gloria leads him upstairs and retrieves the thermometer from the bathroom closet. She follows Ryan to Sofia’s bedroom, where the little girl is curled up on the bed. “You don’t feel well, babe?” she asks, feeling her forehead and sticking the thermometer in her ear. Sofia shakes her head. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

“Down here,” Sofia says, rubbing the bottom of her stomach.

Ryan sits on the bed next to her and touches her head. “She still feels hot.”

Gloria removes the thermometer and reads it. “One hundred point eight.” She looks at Sofia. “Does your stomach hurt like there’s a pain in it or does it feel weird, like you’re going to throw up?”

“It’s a bad pain.”

Gloria glances at Ryan. “Have you thrown up or had diarrhea?”

Sofia keeps her hand on her belly, moaning. “I had diarrhea this morning.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” Ryan says. “How many times have you gone?”

“Two. And it feels like I have to go again.”

Ryan looks at Gloria and she nods. “Okay, I’m going to take you to the emergency room.” He is pulling the blankets off Sofia and helping her sit on the edge of the bed.

“Can I go in my jammies?”

“Go comfortable,” Gloria says, reaching for Sofia’s slippers on the floor. “That’s my motto.” She slips the shoes onto Sofia’s feet and squeezes them, smiling at her.

As Sofia stands, she bends over in pain, moaning.

“I got ya,” Ryan says, scooping her up and walking down the stairs.

“Open the door, Miriam!” Gloria says.

Miriam jumps up from the table. “What’s happened?” she asks, stepping into the living room and reaching for the door.

“Sofia’s sick,” Gloria says, running after Ryan. “I’ll pick Marshall up at the store and we’ll be right behind you,” Gloria says, reaching for Ryan’s coat and following them to the car.

“You don’t have to come, Aunt Gloria,” Ryan says, helping Sofia into the car. “I can call you.”

Gloria shakes her head. “You might need something while you’re there and either Marshall or I can do all that running around for you.” She leans into the car and kisses Sofia’s face. “I’ll be right there, sweet lamb.” She and Miriam stand in the driveway and wave as Ryan pulls away.

*   *   *

Jennifer opens the pantry door and grabs a handful of potatoes, setting them in the sink to wash. She clicks on the TV in the living room and finds the five o’clock news so she can watch it as she prepares dinner. The potatoes are diced, along with carrots, onions, and celery as stories about a robbery in the city and what’s happening in the state legislature fills the screen. She is sautéing the carrots, celery, and onions when news of a car accident on the highway seizes her attention. A female reporter is on the scene as police lights flash behind her. “It appears the SUV crossed the median into this line of traffic,” she says, indicating the highway. “Again, three people have been taken to University Hospital and are in critical condition at this time.” Jen watches the screen as the vegetables sizzle on the stove.

She was laughing. It was December and she and Avery had gone to visit friends in Garrett. It was dark when she began the twenty-mile drive back into Grandon. For some reason, Avery giggled in her car seat. She had giggled so few times since Michael died in June, that Jen turned to look at her. She didn’t see the SUV cross the median. She’s grateful for that. Time tumbled, careened, and crawled in the next few moments.

It was so dark she could barely make out the approaching shape but could hear the words that came as if through thick webs. “Oh, God! Help them!” Its clothes were dark, black-dark with a tall hat.
Scrape-rick, scrape-rick
was the noise it made. It whimpered like a child. Or was that Avery? She had to get to Avery. She tried to turn her head to see her but she couldn’t. The voice disappeared, perhaps the tall hat was flat on its belly in the muck. She moved to try to help it but there was no face. She couldn’t see a face or even the shape anymore. Sirens were wailing somewhere or was that a shout or a cry? Was it her own cry she was hearing or Avery’s? She felt something on her shoulder and wanted to reach for it, thinking it was Avery. “Can you hear me?” the voice at her shoulder said. It was the tall hat. “It’s freezing. Where’s your coat? God, help these people.” She felt something warm around her neck. “This will help a little.”

The siren was distant. The tall hat was somewhere behind her and said, “Here you go, sweetheart. Look, sweetie! This is for you. Help this little girl. She’s afraid. Shh, shh, shh.” The siren was closer and more frantic. “Here you go, sweetie. This doll’s for you.” The noise stopped. “Your daughter is okay,” Tall Hat said, touching Jen’s shoulder. The web grew thicker and voices sounded displaced, while shapes moved and floated, lifting her out of that cottony dream. She had a broken collarbone and three broken ribs but Avery came away from the accident without a scratch.

Jen smells the vegetables and rushes to turn off the burner. She reaches for the phone, dialing. “Hi, this is Jennifer De Luca and I have been trying to find out the names of the paramedics who were first on the scene of an accident I was in with my daughter three years ago. I’ve made a couple of other calls in recent weeks but I’ve never heard from anyone.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Mrs. De Luca,” a woman on the other end says. “Have you checked over your own medical records from the accident?”

Jen dumps the diced potatoes into the pot and adds a container of chicken stock. “I have but there’s no indication of who the paramedics were.”

“Do you remember who you left a message for?”

Jen adds some salt and pepper to the pot. “Monica.”

“Let me find her for you.”

Please, not another voice mail,
Jen thinks, adding parsley and stirring.

“Mrs. De Luca, it’s Monica. I’m so sorry I didn’t get back to you before now. You had said that the paramedics were the first responders that night?”

Jennifer leans against the kitchen counter, remembering. “Yes.”

She hears computer keys clicking in the background. “According to hospital files, paramedics arrived shortly after the local fire and rescue unit.”

“That was the tall hat…” Jen says, her voice fading.

“I’m sorry?”

“I remember a tall hat. I didn’t realize that fire and rescue was there as well. Thank you so much.”

She hangs up the phone and turns to click off the TV and sees Avery, who has been listening.

“Who were you talking to?”

Jen sits at the kitchen table and reaches for Avery’s hands. “A woman at the hospital, who is trying to help me find everyone who helped us the night of our accident.”

Avery’s face closes and her mouth draws in. Her eyes are dark with what looks like fear. “Why are you doing that?”

“Because I think it could help.”

Avery is shaking her head as tears fill her eyes. “No, no, no, no, no!” She yanks her hands from her mom and tries to get away.

Jen stands and reaches for her arm, turning Avery so she can see her face. “One of those people who helped us actually cared enough to say a prayer and give you the angel doll. I remember it and want to say thank you. I think it will help me.”

Avery’s face is red and puckered. “It won’t. You keep bringing up all this bad stuff but it never helps.”

Jen pulls her toward the table and lifts her onto her lap, as she sits. “I don’t keep bringing it up. It’s just here. All the time. And so many things remind me of that night and of your dad. I need to do something to help myself and I think that by thanking all of those people, I’ll get one step closer.”

“You won’t.” Her little face is defiant, unbelieving.

Jen rests her head on top of Avery’s. “I might.” She says it almost like a prayer and breathes easier for the first time in ages.

ELEVEN

Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.

—D
ESMOND
T
UTU

“You brought her in before the appendix burst so we’ll be able to go in and remove it.” The doctor looks at Sofia lying on the exam table, tapping her on the leg. “And that means you’ll be feeling better very soon.”

Dr. Hernandez is kind, with small lines feathering out at the edge of his eyes and flecks of gray highlighting his thick shock of brown hair.

“What is an appendix?” Sofia asks.

“It’s a finger-shaped pouch that sticks out from your colon right down here,” he says, touching her lower belly on the right side.

“But if you take it, what will happen to me?”

He smiles and leans against the table. “Nothing.” He shrugs. “You won’t even miss it, and do you know why?” She shakes her head. “Because we’re not totally sure what it does.” Her eyes are big. “It’s true. It has to have a function, right?” She nods. “But after years and years of medicine no one really knows what it is! Some believe it helps our immune system. We do know that sometimes it can get blocked and cause lots of pain. It can also leak and rupture, but your dad got you here before that happened.” He smiles and is moving toward the door, indicating he’s ready to proceed.

“How long does it take?” Ryan asks, holding Sofia’s hand.

“Not very long. Laparoscopic surgery is just a few small incisions, which means less scarring and shorter recovery. She’ll spend a night, maybe two before going home, but downtime isn’t very long.” He smiles at Sofia. “Someone will be in shortly.”

Ryan leans down and kisses her forehead. “You’re going to feel so much better in a little while.”

“I don’t want to do this. It’s scary.”

He sits on the table and squeezes her leg. “You’ll be sleeping through all of it. This is something that Dr. Hernandez does every day and he said himself that it doesn’t take very long. Plus, you’ll really be able to milk this with Aunt Gloria and get all of your favorite foods.”

“You mean like ice cream and cookies?”

He nods. “If I know her she’ll probably sneak them into the hospital.”

She stares up at the ceiling, thinking about it and smiles. “Do you think she would make me a chocolate chess pie?”

He winks and nods, whispering, “Consider it done.”

“Will you call Mom?”

He pulls his phone out of his jeans pocket and dials Julie’s number, handing the phone to Sofia. During the last three years, he has had his share of hard feelings and names for Julie, but now he feels sorry for her because she’s not here to hold Sofia’s hand or kiss her face when she wakes up from surgery. He wishes she were here for Sofia and realizes it’s the first time he’s thought that since the divorce. He listens as Sofia relays the events of the last eighteen hours. He knows Julie will have lots of concerns about the surgery and questions for him, and for once, he doesn’t dread the conversation. Maybe he’s growing up or maybe it’s one of those Christmas miracles his aunt Gloria talks so much about.

*   *   *

Jen waits just inside the choir room as the angel choir finishes “Do You Hear What I Hear?” and smiles, watching Avery sing, her mouth forming a perfect red
O
. She is so serious, taking the responsibility of spreading the good news squarely on her shoulders alone. As the final note is sung, she makes a beeline for Jennifer. “Mom, Sofia was in the hospital.”

“What?” With the set nearly complete, the set team had the night off, so she didn’t see Ryan.

Avery is putting on her coat. “Her ’pendix was broken so they took it out yesterday.”

Jen looks around the room for Gloria or Miriam. “Her appendix?” She spots Miriam and Gloria and leads Avery to the other side of the choir room.

Miriam looks tattered and disheveled, as if someone has just taken her down from a shelf and blown the dust off her. She bends down to pick up scattered song sheets. “Ramsey boys! Remember to practice the songs before you give me my first gray hairs!” she says, yelling over her shoulder at the triplets. “And Andr—” She stops, not attempting any of their names. “Angel of the Lord, what is your line?”

He pauses and then smiles, thrusting his finger into the air. “‘Listen to me!
the
baby of all babies has been born!’”

Miriam’s mouth is open, about to correct him … again, but she shakes her head, smiling. “That’s right! ‘
The
baby of all babies has been born!’”