The Gift of Christmas Present (11 page)

“I'm sorry to be the one to tell you about Lenore,” Christine said. “I thought you already knew, but then you wanted to look her up on the computer and I realized—”

“When did she die?” her grandmother said suddenly. She sat up and looked at Christine. “And why wasn't I notified?”

“My parents tried to find you, but they didn't know your name was Daniels back then. Apparently, they attempted to locate a Mr. and Mrs. Blackstone in this town
but couldn't. Lenore died nearly twenty years ago, just a month after I was born. She was hit by a car. Since my parents were unable to reach any of her relatives, they just handled the funeral arrangements and everything themselves. They'd been good friends to Lenore. She'd even been living with them for a while. That's about all I know.”

“Is there a gravesite?” she asked in a hollow voice.

“Yes, it's in Larchwood, my hometown.”

“I'd like to see it.”

Christine nodded. “I know where it is. I've been there a few times, and my mother's grave is nearby. I can take you there if you think you're up to it.”

She shook her head. “Not today. I don't think I can handle much more today.” Then she looked at Christine and frowned. “You were dishonest with me.”

“I know. And I'm really sorry.” Christine sat back down on the couch, preparing herself for her grandmother's chastening.

“I don't like being tricked by anyone, young lady, even if it is my own granddaughter.” She narrowed her eyes. “In fact . . . why should I even believe you now? Perhaps you're
not
my granddaughter. Perhaps you've made all this up, and maybe Lenore is still alive. How do I know you're not lying to me right now?”

Christine considered this. “Why would I do that?”

“Well, you admit to lying to me before, right?”

“Not outright lying,” Christine said. “But I guess I didn't tell you the complete truth.”

“So how do I know you're not lying now?”

Christine felt confused. “But what reason would I have to lie about something like this?”

“Money.” She studied Christine carefully, almost as if she were examining a bug beneath a magnifying glass. “You could be here to scam an old woman into giving you some kind of inheritance.” Then she laughed, but it was that old cynical, menacing laugh again. “That is, assuming this old woman has anything to leave anyone. And that's a pretty big assumption.”

Christine shook her head. “No, I don't want your money. I only wanted—”

“Well, of course you wouldn't admit to wanting my money. What kind of scam artist would do something as stupid as that? No, you're a clever girl, Christine. First you'd ingratiate yourself to me and to my family. Then you'd reveal your identity, and then you'd wait around for the money.”

Christine stood up. “That's not true.”

“How do I know what's true and what's not? Everything you've done up until now has been a big, fat lie. Why should I believe anything you have to say?”

Christine felt hot tears burning in her eyes. Tears of anger and indignation. “I'm telling you the truth,” she said. “I have absolutely no reason to lie.”

“How can I know?”

Tears were streaming down Christine's face now. “Look, I'm sorry I deceived you before. That was stupid and wrong and thoughtless. But I am telling you the truth now. I am Lenore Blackstone's daughter. You can call my father and ask him.” She rushed over to the desk and wrote down the phone number of the mission compound in Brazil.
“Call him if you don't believe me.” Then she turned and ran out the front door and away from the house.

She cried as she walked back to the dorm. Why had she been such an idiot? Why hadn't she just told the truth from the beginning? She wished she could turn back the clock. But if she could, she wouldn't bother going back over the past couple of weeks. Instead she'd turn the clock back to at least six years ago. Back to when both her parents were alive and well. And they were all together and happily enjoying the Christmas holidays the way they were meant to be enjoyed. With warmth and love and family. Something she'd taken so for granted at the time, but something that might never happen again.

Christine awoke to the shrill sound of the phone ringing. She reached for the phone, fumbling in the darkness to find it. “Hello?”

“Christine?” It was a male voice but not her father's.

“Yes.” She flipped on the light and glanced at the clock. It was only eight thirty, but it felt more like midnight. How long had she been sleeping?

“This is Jimmy. I'm sorry to disturb you, but my mother called a bit ago. And she was very upset and actually sounded a little bit delirious—”

“Is she okay?” Christine asked.

“I think so. Felicity just gave her a pain pill and helped her to bed, but we're feeling concerned . . .” He cleared his throat. “She said some strange things about you. I don't know if she's imagining things or—”

“Did she mention Lenore?”

“Yes. First she said that Lenore was dead, and then she
said that it was all just a lie and that you were not to be trusted.”

Christine sighed. “It's a long story.”

“I've got time.”

So Christine attempted to explain it all to him, carefully going over the details she knew, and how she'd never meant to trick his mother, and how she was very sorry.

“And you can call my father down in Brazil to verify everything. I'm sure this information must all be on my birth certificate, which I think must be in his safety deposit box at the bank. In fact, I have a key, if it would help matters to see it.”

“Oh, I don't think that's necessary, Christine. I believe you, myself. I mean, why would you make something like this up?”

“Your mother thought I might be a scam artist trying to con her out of her money.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like something she might say. But don't worry. The truth is you remind me a little bit of Lenore.” He grew quieter. “I'm really sad to hear that she's dead. But I'd wondered about that possibility. She just didn't seem like the kind of person who would leave like that and never come back or call or anything. She always seemed a very kind and forgiving person to me.”

“That's nice to know,” Christine said. “Actually, the main reason I wanted to contact Lenore's family was to learn more about her.”

“I didn't know her really well,” he explained. “I was already in college when our parents got married, and that was only a few years before Lenore, uh, left.”

“Did you know she was pregnant when she left home?”

“I suspected as much. I think it was supposed to be some big secret, but it wasn't hard to guess what was going on.”

“Is there anything I can do to help your mother?” she asked. “I wasn't sure whether I should come back and work for her after this. I mean, she was pretty upset with me.”

“Well, that's the problem. You see, Aunt Hattie is supposed to arrive tomorrow. And Felicity has her hands full trying to get things ready for Christmas. And we could use your help, if you don't mind, that is.”

“I don't mind at all. I just don't want to upset your mother by being around.”

“How about this?” he said. “What if I pick you up tomorrow and bring you back over to Mom's, and the three of us can sit and talk this thing out?”

Christine sighed in relief. “Would you?”

“Hey, I'd be happy to. After all, you're family.”

She smiled. “I guess you're sort of like my uncle, then. Although I realize you're really a stepuncle.”

“Hey, you can call me Uncle Jimmy anytime you like. Suits me just fine.”

“Thanks. And thanks for calling. I feel a lot better now.”

“See you around eight in the morning, then?”

“Sounds great.”

Christine prayed for her grandmother before she went back to bed that night. She asked God to help her adjust to the hard news of losing her only daughter. And then she asked him to help her forgive her granddaughter for lying.

Esther awoke in the darkness with an overwhelming feeling of confusion and sadness.
What's wrong with me?
she wondered as she reached to turn on the lamp on her bedside table. Then she remembered. Lenore. Lenore was dead. Or so said that manipulative girl who had tricked her way into Esther's life and home. She should've known better. If it sounds too good to be true . . .

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, cautiously extending her injured foot lest she bump it against the side rail again. She'd done that enough times to remember to be more careful. Then she frowned as she noticed that her crutches, instead of being right next to her bed where they should've been, were clear across the room.

“That silly Felicity,” she muttered as she slowly worked her way to the foot of the bed and then used the bench as a very short walker to enable her to finally reach her crutches. Then, with her crutches beneath her, and nearly out of breath, she managed to locate her robe and slippers. Not thoughtfully laid out like when that girl had been working here. She no longer thought of Christine by name. Instead she had become
that girl
in her mind. That evil, deceptive, selfish, lying girl.

“Can't believe I was such a fool as to be duped like that,” she mumbled as she slowly made her way down the hall toward the living room. She knew she wasn't going to be able to fall asleep again. She'd hoped she might be able to simply sit and relax in her recliner, preferably with a hot cup of tea, but that was probably too much to attempt on her own tonight. She'd have to settle for the comfort of the recliner. But before she reached the recliner, she paused at her desk, noticing the writing scrawled across the notepad. “Allen Bradley, CMA compound,” followed by a long phone number that appeared to be international.
Although that could have just as well been made up too. That girl probably didn't think Esther would call her bluff. But then she just didn't know what a tough broad she was up against either.

Esther sat down at her desk and picked up the phone. But then she looked at the clock. It was a little past three in the morning and probably not the best hour to be dialing what was most likely a wrong number. No sense in disturbing innocent people. She glanced down at the bottom drawer, then shook her head. “It's not true, Esther,” she told herself. “It's all a big, fat lie. That girl is just trying to pull one over on you. Don't fall for her tricks.”

The contents of the drawer seemed to be pulling her hand down toward it as if it had a magnetic force of its own. Finally she gave in and leaned down and tugged on the stubborn drawer. Once it was open, she slowly reached inside, removed the framed photo, then turned it over to stare at the lovely young woman who seemed to have been captured in time. She sat for a long time just staring at the image of her daughter. She hadn't even noticed the tears that had fallen from her eyes and splattered like raindrops on the glass surface covering the photo. She used the sleeve of her robe to wipe it clean, rubbing it over and over in circles as if to polish it.

“Lenore,” she whispered. “Tell me it's not true.” But even as she said these words, she knew that it was indeed true. She knew beyond any shadow of doubt that Lenore was dead. Dead and gone and buried just like that girl had said. It was the eyes that told her so. Those big, golden-brown eyes that had the fresh look of youth and innocence,
and honesty, in them. The same eyes that Lenore had passed down to her daughter, Christine.

Esther set Lenore's picture on her desk and faced it toward the recliner. Then she slowly made her way across the room and eased herself into the recliner. And there she sat, gazing at the photo through her tears, wishing desperately that she could do it all differently.

Christine sat on the cement steps in front of her dorm as she waited for Jimmy to pick her up. As she sat she prayed that God would do something miraculous to salvage the mess she'd created.
I'm sorry that I didn't tell the truth from the beginning. But I do believe you can take our worst failures and turn them into your successes. That's all I'm asking you to do. Just bring something good out of this for my grandmother. Help her through this sadness, and heal her wounded heart
.