The Gift of Christmas Present (10 page)

“I won't.”

Christine walked slowly across campus. She wondered if she'd done something to upset her grandmother. She knew the woman wasn't the most congenial person, but it had seemed, up until today, that they'd been getting closer. She'd actually thought her grandmother liked her, at least a little bit. Or maybe she just tolerated her better than back in the beginning. But today had felt like a real setback. And Christine felt more frustrated and disappointed than ever. She'd wanted to sit down with the old woman, to look her right in the eyes and explain everything today. But there just never seemed an appropriate moment. And as grumpy as her grandmother was, she probably would've reacted quite badly. She most likely would've been seriously angry to hear the truth. Who knows, it might've totally ruined all possibilities of a relationship at all.

“What possibilities?” she had to ask herself as she crossed the street toward the dorm. When her grandmother found out she'd been deceived, she'd probably throw Christine out on the streets. And who could blame her? Maybe Christine should put the whole thing off until after Christmas. Perhaps that would be the kindest thing to do. Why should she risk upsetting the entire family?

Yes, she would wait until after the Christmas Eve party. Of course, that meant four more days of continuing this charade. But if Felicity was anything like Christine suspected, those would be four very busy and demanding
days. Perhaps it was just as well that she was getting Sunday off. She felt fairly sure she'd need a day of rest just to prepare herself for all the work and preparation, not to mention the continued playacting, that was coming.

When Christine reported for work on Monday morning, she quickly discovered that Felicity had already made a complete list of things for her to do.

“Jimmy brought it by yesterday,” her grandmother announced. “I hope you know what you've gotten yourself in for, young lady.”

She glanced at the list, then smiled, purely for her grandmother's sake. “No problem. I can handle this,” she said.

The old woman's brows lifted. “And keep up the quality of work you've been doing for me as well?”

She nodded. “You'll see.”

Her grandmother rolled her eyes. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

After lunch they sat down together to work on the computer. “I want you to show me how to search for a person,” her grandmother said.

“There are a lot of ways,” Christine explained. “First we choose a search engine.”

“What?”

“Oh, it's like a service that works as a directory. Here, let me show you.” She went to her favorite search site and pointed out the empty box. “We'll start by putting the name of the person in here and see if it pulls anything up. Is this person living or dead?”

“Living.”

“Okay. Go ahead and type in the full name, and then we'll hit enter and see what comes up.”

Christine stepped back and waited as her grandmother began to type. But she felt herself take in a fast breath when she saw the name.
Lenore Louise Blackstone
. In that same instant her stomach tied itself in a knot and her hands began to tremble.

“Okay, now what?”

Christine's mouth felt too dry to speak. And even if it hadn't, she still had no idea what to say. She felt slightly faint. She sat down on the chair across from the couch and took a deep breath, trying to regain some sense of composure.

“What's wrong?” her grandmother asked as she looked over at Christine. “Goodness, you look pale. Aren't you feeling well?”

Christine shook her head.

“Good grief, I hope you haven't picked up that horrible flu bug. That's all I need right now. Maybe you'd better run along home until you know what it is that's ailing you. I certainly can't afford to get that flu with my ankle still bummed up. I can barely get around as it is. That would land me in the hospital for certain. I mean it, Christine, you'd better get out of here right now.”

Christine stood up and walked to the closet, retrieved her parka, and left. She knew it was stupid. She didn't have the flu. But, at the same time, she didn't know if she could tell her grandmother the truth right now.

“Oh, what tangled webs we weave . . . ,” she said to herself as she started heading back toward her dorm. Then, instead of going to her dorm, she decided to stop by her
church. It was only a few blocks out of the way, and she hoped she might be able to get a word with the pastor. She felt she was in deep need of some wise counsel. How had she gotten herself into this mess, anyway? By lying, of course. That was simple enough. But now she needed to find a way to get out.

“What brings you here?” Pastor Reinhart asked. “Coming to complain about yesterday's sermon?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I just needed someone to talk to.”

His brow creased. “Have a chair. Is everything okay with your father? I hear bits and pieces of news about South America, but, to be honest, I don't pay that much attention. Everything going all right down there?”

She nodded. “That's not what's troubling me.”

He sat down behind his desk, then leaned forward. “Well, that's a relief. So, tell me, what's making you look so glum?”

She poured out her story, and he listened, making careful comments here and there, until she was completely finished.

“Wow. That's quite a story,” he said. “I know of the Daniels family. James Daniels used to be the president of the university. Quite a powerful and respected man in the community. He passed away a few years ago. They had a big memorial service.”

She nodded.

“I've never met Mrs. Daniels, but I know she used to be quite involved in community affairs. Her name would appear in the paper quite frequently.”

She nodded again.

“Of course, that's not what you came to talk about. Is it?”

“What should I do now?” she implored. “I need help.”

He pressed his lips together. “Well . . . I think you know what you need to do, Christine.”

“I know.”

“And, the way I see it, the sooner is usually the better. Lies don't get smaller over time. You can sweep them under the rug, but they won't stay there for long.”

“Do you think she'll be mad?”

He shrugged. “It's hard to say. I'm sure she's a fairly proud woman, and most people don't like being deceived.”

“That's true.”

“But, on the other hand, she should be happy to learn that she has a granddaughter.” He smiled warmly. “Especially someone like you, Christine. Did I tell you that Beth Maxwell said you did an absolutely brilliant job with her third graders while she was on vacation last month? She thinks you should take a class of your own whenever one opens up.”

Christine smiled weakly.

“I know. I know. That's not what you need to hear right now.” He folded his hands. “Sometimes the truth is hard to hear, but I think you knew it before you came in here.”

Christine looked down at her lap. “What about her daughter, Pastor Reinhart? I mean my mother . . . My grandmother doesn't even know Lenore is dead.”

“Unfortunately, you're going to have to tell her.” He shook his head. “It's very sad. But you need to remember that it's not your fault. You're just the messenger.”

“The messenger who messed up.”

He chuckled. “Well, it'll probably smooth out. Just go and tell her the truth. I can tell it's eating you up inside. You don't need that, especially at Christmastime. Besides, I have a feeling it's all going to work out just fine. I think your grandmother is going to be really happy to realize she's got a granddaughter.”

“Do you think we could really have a relationship like that?” She stood and made her way to the door, as she realized her pastor must have other things to do. “Do you think that's really possible?”

“All things are possible with God. Just put it in his hands.”

As she walked back toward the Daniels home, she did just that. She put the whole thing into God's hands.

When she rang the doorbell to the house, she felt stronger and braver than she'd felt in days. That is, until she saw her grandmother's face.

“What on earth are you doing back here?” she demanded. “I thought you were sick.”

“We need to talk,” Christine said in a sober voice.

Christine prayed silently as she followed her grandmother into the living room. It seemed the old woman was maneuvering her crutches much better these days. Perhaps her ankle was improving and she wasn't in such pain. Maybe it wouldn't be long before she didn't need Christine's help anymore. Christine noticed a dust bunny she'd missed beneath the table in the hallway. She'd have to go over the hardwood floors more carefully later. It was surprising how familiar this home had become to her during the past week. Like she'd known it for years.

“So you don't have the flu after all?” her grandmother asked as she eased herself into the recliner and frowned at Christine. “What is it then?”

Christine sighed and then looked down at her lap.

“Oh, no,” her grandmother exclaimed in a horrified voice.

Christine quickly looked up. “What?”

“Don't tell me you've gone and gotten yourself pregnant. And you, supposedly a good church girl.”

Christine shook her head. “That's not it.”

“Well.” Her grandmother leaned back. “That's a relief.”

Christine took a deep breath. “This is rather hard to explain.”

Her grandmother frowned. “What is it? Are you in some kind of trouble with the law?”

“No. That's not it. But I do have something to tell you that might not be easy to hear.”

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Well, it's hard to know the best way to begin . . .”

“Just tell me.” She leaned forward and peered at Christine. “At once!”

“All right,” Christine said. “But you better brace yourself.”

“I am losing my patience!”

“Okay.” Christine winced, then quickly said it. “I'm Lenore Blackstone's daughter.”

The room grew so silent that Christine could hear her grandmother's breathing coming out in short, ragged puffs. She stared at the stunned woman sitting across from her, watching with fear as the color drained from her grandmother's face. What if she suffered a stroke or heart attack from the shock? Why hadn't Christine thought this through better? Broken it to her more carefully?

“Are you okay?” Christine asked.

Her grandmother said nothing. Just sat there and stared as if seeing a ghost.

“I'm so sorry to tell you like this,” Christine said. “I came here originally with the intent of introducing
myself to you, but then you assumed I was here for the job, and you just kept talking to me like I was having an interview, and, well, I was so nervous and scared that I just went along with it, and I meant to tell you the next day, but then I got caught up in the job and in helping you, and the more time went on, the harder it became to tell you—”

“Silence!”

Christine blinked, then leaned back into the couch. “Sorry . . . ,” she muttered.

Her grandmother shook her head sharply, as if she was trying to shake some sense out of what she'd just heard. “Are you actually telling me that Lenore Blackstone, my only daughter, is your mother?”

Christine nodded.

“My daughter is your mother?” she said it slowly this time, as if it were still sinking in.

“My
birth
mother.” Christine added. She still thought of Marie Bradley as her real mother. Lenore was little more than a stranger to her. “My parents adopted me at birth.”

“And that would've been about twenty years ago?” Her grandmother seemed to be doing some math in her head. “The same year she left home?”

“I guess so.”

Her grandmother sighed. “She was pregnant with you when she left.”

“That's what I'd heard.”

Suddenly her grandmother sat up straight and eagerly looked at Christine with what seemed like an almost childlike hope and expectancy. “So, tell me, do you know anything
about Lenore now? Do you know where she lives or whether she's married or has other children? Can you give me her address?”

Christine felt a lump growing in her throat. “I'm—I'm sorry,” she began, then choked on the words. “But sh—she's dead.”

Her grandmother sank back into her chair like she'd been deflated. She leaned her head back, then closed her eyes and moaned as if she were in great pain.

Christine, worried for the old woman's health, jumped up and went to her side. “Are you okay?”

“Oh no. Oh no. Oh no,” she muttered in an almost incoherent way.

“Shall I call someone?” Christine asked. “Do you need help?”

Her grandmother slowly shook her head, eyes still closed, still moaning. Christine wasn't sure what to do now. Was this turning into a medical emergency? Should she call Jimmy and Felicity? She put her hand on her grandmother's shoulder and silently prayed for help and guidance. She begged God to comfort this poor woman in the grief she'd so carelessly poured upon her.