The 13th Day of Christmas Read online

  Marva remembered the apron she’d bought for Thomas as an early Christmas present and made a third—maybe fourth—mental note to give it to him when she had the energy.

  Marva thought of Zach, too, hanging on to the final moments of sleep before waking for school where he would have to answer endless questions about his sick sister from teachers, friends, and the curious.

  Marva sat and wondered where Emily had slept. Was she balled up on a waiting room couch? Had Charlee been moved from ICU and could Emily sleep in a second bed in her room? Marva began to offer a long prayer on behalf of all of the Alexanders, but then stopped and restarted, choosing instead to say a separate and powerful prayer for each, by name.

  When she was done, she retrieved a grapefruit and English muffin from the refrigerator, cut both in half, and selected a jar of apricot jelly. Then she sat at the kitchen table to eat. Naturally, she prayed again, thanking God for the food and asking that it would give her the strength she’d been missing.

  After breakfast, Marva felt a humble burst of energy, and she picked an apron to wear for as long as her energy would last. She didn’t normally wear aprons over her nightgowns or pajamas, but the prospect of wearing one of her favorite aprons and stashing the walkie-talkie in the pocket—just in case—made her smile. The morning’s apron read in all caps YOUR OPINION WASN’T IN THE RECIPE.

  She wandered to the living room and stared a few minutes at a picture of her son, J.R. Then she moved to the mantel and lingered a long time in front of the family Advent calendar. When Marva finally opened the numbered window for December 19, she peeked inside, even though she knew it would be empty.

  She turned to face the room and noticed the air around her was lighter just in the few minutes since she’d finished breakfast. Marva’s gaze went from one piece of furniture to another, and it seemed the sun was rising quickly, right above her coffee table.

  That was fast, she thought. No, it’s too fast, and the room flashed from bright to white.

  She collapsed near the couch.

  Marva woke to the sound and sight of EMTs. A blonde woman pulled her eye open and shined a penlight onto her pupil. Another EMT was shouting questions.

  “Can you hear me? Do you know where you are? What’s your name? Do you know what day it is?”

  Marva was just alert enough to be annoyed by the interrogation.

  They strapped her to a stretcher and navigated her out the front door. She saw Zach and Emily standing out of the way on the front porch. Emily had her arm around her son; Marva was too far away to be certain, but it looked as if Zach had been crying.

  The elderly porch wavers were away from their guard post, instead standing on the grass near the ambulance and promising Marva they would visit. Marva knew they wouldn’t, but she smiled underneath the oxygen mask anyway.

  The ambulance raced her to Woodbrook Mercy Hospital, and she was admitted for tests that would last much longer than her energy. Three women from the library visited and snuck in miniature gingerbread cookies they’d made for a holiday luncheon. Her good friend, Rusty Cleveland, visited, too, and spent more time with her than anyone else.

  Just before dinner, Emily and Zach stopped by the room for an update. But Marva cut off the small talk with the one question she’d wondered about all day. “How’s Charlee?”

  Emily took a step closer to the bed and reached for Marva’s free hand. “We’re here about you, Marva. Any news?”

  Marva squeezed Emily’s hand firmly. “How’s Charlee? Infection better?”

  Emily turned her attention from Marva to her son. “Zach, dear, would you go see if your dad is here yet? He said he’d try to be here by dinnertime. Would you check the fourth floor waiting room? If he’s not there, ask at the window if he’s back with Charlee.”

  Zach nodded and gave Marva a thumbs-up. She returned the gesture, and when the door shut behind Zach, Emily slid a chair next to Marva’s bed.

  Marva pushed a button on the bulky remote and the head of the bed rose until she was in a seated position. “How is she, dear?”

  “Not good,” Emily half-whispered. “Not good today.”

  Marva squeezed her hand again. “Fever?”

  “Down, but the infection isn’t easing up.”

  Marva sighed a long, painful, “My. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s . . . It’s not the way it’s supposed to happen, you know?”

  “I know, dear.”

  “The surgery, the treatments have all gone so well. She’s been beaten up, tired, you know that happens, though. They tell you all that. What to expect.”

  Marva wanted to rise up from the bed and hug Emily tight. She looked at the IV and the heart monitor and considered casting it all off.

  “She’s fighting it, but it’s hard, you know? Her system is so weak from the treatments she doesn’t have much left to fight the things the rest of us beat all the time. You know?”

  Marva nodded because she wanted to comfort her friend, but she also nodded because she knew. She’d seen friends and loved ones seemingly beat the disease itself only to perish from complications of blood clots, the flu, or infections.

  Emily pulled her hand away from Marva and took a tissue from a decorative box on the rolling side table.

  Marva nodded again. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I’m so sorry this is happening.” She ached to say more. She knew there were words for such occasions, but finding them and arranging them in meaningful, comforting order seemed an impossible task with Emily sitting at her side and the distracting hospital hums, beeps, and buzzes filling the air.

  They sat without a word until Zach’s face appeared in the window. Emily waved him away with a subtle shake of her head.

  “Your turn,” Emily said, and she pressed both hands against her face as if applying pressure would change the subject.

  Marva smiled and checked her pulse on the monitor. “My. Yes, I’m fine. Heart is ticking along.”

  “What have they told you? You look a little less jaundiced than when they brought you in.”

  “Could be. They’ve only decided one thing, really. But it’s important.”

  “And?”

  “I’m old.”

  Emily laughed, and Marva thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d heard all day.

  “Seriously, Marva. Nothing yet?”

  “They’ve run scans of everything you can imagine. All the tests you’re, quite unfortunately, too familiar with: CAT, MRI, ultrasound, and one called an SRS, I think—it’s some sort of injection test.”

  “Have they ruled anything out?”

  Marva narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “Only one thing.”

  Emily’s eyes widened, and Marva almost felt guilty about the setup.

  “I’m not pregnant.”

  “Marva Ferguson!” Emily’s hands went back to her face, but Marva could tell she was giggling.

  “I’m sorry, dear. I couldn’t resist.”

  Marva enjoyed watching Emily compose herself and she wondered how long it had been since her friend had laughed.

  “You’re too much, Marva. Too much.”

  Marva let the levity hold them both a moment. “I should know more soon. The doctor said they would gather and consider all the tests and report the results all at once, so as to not worry me.”

  “Is it working?” Emily asked.

  “At my age, there is no worry, there is only waiting.”

  December 19

  On the 6th Day of Christmas

  my true love sent to me:

  Six Geese a-Laying

  Dear Charlee:

  Please prepare yourself for the touching story of six inspirational geese.

  We had traveled to Hawaii in search of the six most perfect geese to present as your Six Geese a-Laying. One day, as we walked the beach collecting seashells,
we noticed six colorful geese in a belly dancing class. They were prancing around in their brilliant Hawaiian leis, totally unfazed by the other class members who were laughing and calling them names. Their teasing was so fowl—er, foul!

  We watched in awe as they turned the other beak. They returned the taunts with kindness and love. We were impressed! We knew at once that we had found the perfect Six Geese a-Laying.

  We promptly scooped them up and began the long trek to our home where they would be allowed to run free until tonight’s big delivery.

  Great idea, right, Charlee?

  Wrong.

  We should have known better. The Hawaiian geese did not fare well in the cold. Two days at our home and they all caught the flu. Thankfully, the doctor said they would be fine, but they would never fly again.

  What sadness! While we were happy to legally adopt the six geese, what would that mean for the song? For your gift?

  Then it hit us. If you couldn’t have the geese, you could at least have the leis.

  So here you go, Charlee. Please enjoy these six Hawaiian leis. And whenever you sing our song, may you picture our six brave geese running around our backyard a world away. They are the true, original Six Geese a Lei-ing.

  Happy 6th Day of Christmas!

  The Traveling Elves

  December 20

  On the 7th Day of Christmas

  my true love sent to me:

  Seven Swans a-Swimming

  Dear Charlee:

  We’re sorry this one came so late in the day. We almost didn’t make it! Also, don’t think we didn’t notice your monkey—what’s his name?—watching us from the table in your room. If he learns to talk, we could be in trouble.

  All right, let’s get back to work!

  Years ago our family wrote the seventh verse of our song while touring Russia. The timing was perfect; what better place to find seven live swans a-swimming?

  We visited zoos, ponds, and watched every production of Swan Lake we could find. Then one day it occurred to us, we didn’t need swans. We needed ducklings! What were we thinking?

  So we visited a farm and purchased the seven biggest ducklings we could find. We couldn’t have been happier. Sure, the ducklings were ugly, but they’d be swans one day, right?

  Feeling quite ducky about our success, we took a day off to enjoy Russia before leaving the country. Plus, the kids had always wanted to tour a bouncy pink rubber ball factory and there was one near our hotel.

  We left the seven ducklings on seven duck leashes tied to the sleigh and bought our tickets. The tour was amazing, and we learned everything you wanted to know about bouncy balls. But the real action started when one of the kids pushed a giant red button marked “Do Not Push!”

  Alarms rang out!

  Mass panic ensued!

  The factory went into meltdown mode!

  A sea of hot rubber flowed from the factory!

  Everything in sight was coated!

  We ran back to the sleigh, and what we saw broke our hearts. Our gaggle of ducklings had been turned into rubber duckies!

  It was a stroke of bad duck!

  We felt so terrible about what had happened that we just couldn’t set them free and start over looking for swans. So the rubber ducks have been with us for every adventure. And, to be honest, we’ve really grown to love them. They might look different, but we still think they’re beautiful. Don’t you agree, Charlee?

  We’ve thought of naming them several times, but we knew you’d want the honor. So even though you might not be feeling well this evening, would you please take a minute to name each one?

  Charlee, the bad news is they’ll never be swans, but the good news is that they don’t eat much and they float in the tub.

  Happy 7th Day of Christmas!

  The Traveling Elves

  22

  Wondering and Wishing

  Charlee studied her new, empty room. It wasn’t like her room from their old life on Eyring Avenue. It wasn’t even her room at the trailer in 27 Homes that she missed more and more every day. But it was a penthouse improvement from the intensive care unit downstairs.

  She snuck a glance at Melvin the monkey. He sat on a recliner across the room, tossed aside by a nurse when Charlee made the trip up two floors to her new home at Woodbrook Mercy Hospital. Even Melvin looked ready to go home. She wished she could get out of bed and fetch him, but even with her eyes closed she couldn’t picture herself with enough energy to get out of bed on her own. Plus, she didn’t want to get in trouble. Charlee thought she’d caused enough trouble already.

  She wished she could go home. She thought she felt better, and she told everyone so. But her mother said the drugs could do that, but only temporarily. The truth was, Charlee still had the infection she’d picked up at home, and she’d overheard the doctor tell her mother it was very serious and very unfortunate, but sadly common in cases like hers. Charlee wished it weren’t common in anyone’s case.

  Charlee hadn’t had a fever in twenty-four hours, even though they continued checking with a thermometer every chance they got. She’d asked them to start taking Melvin’s temperature too, just for fun, and the nurses downstairs had. But she wasn’t sure if the new nurses would be as nice.

  Charlee wondered when Miss Marva would call or stop by, especially now that she could have visitors. But Charlee hadn’t heard from her for a couple of days, and she missed the sound of her friend’s voice. She wished she could talk to her about the mysterious letters and gifts. Was she behind them? If Charlee asked, would Miss Marva pretend not to know but give her a little wink? It has to be her, Charlee thought, and it made her love Miss Marva more than ever.

  Charlee spotted the white plastic bag with the Woodbrook Mercy Hospital logo on the side. Her treasures. She loved the four stuffed birds she’d gotten, and even from across the room, she could see Big Bird’s head smashed against the inside of the bag. She could see the corner of the empty Krispy Kreme box, too, poking above the top of the bag. I’ll save it forever, she thought, even if she’d already shared the five golden rings with her family on the night the box mysteriously arrived with the silly note.

  The six Hawaiian leis hung around her neck, but only because her mother had washed and sanitized each one.

  Charlee wondered how long that would be a part of her life. Everyone washed, scrubbed, and sanitized everything before visiting. Zach even had to wear a mask on his last visit because the nurse said she heard a tickle in his throat. Charlee liked that nurse just fine, but the woman didn’t understand that Zach’s smile was one of the things Charlee liked most about her brother.

  Charlee lay down in bed and watched the door. She wondered when it would open. She wished her father would visit. He’d been working again, a lot, and she knew he tried to come by as many times a day as he could. But it wasn’t enough.

  When would he come? Would he bring a surprise with him? A gift? Better yet, she thought, would he bring a story?

  Charlee closed her eyes and wondered when the 8th Day of Christmas would arrive. What would it be? What would the letter say? She began to doze off. What would the gift be?

  The opening door startled her. “Hey, sweetheart.” Charlee’s mother walked in, but she did not let the door close behind her. “Would you like a visitor?”

  Charlee slowly sat up. “Who?”

  Miss Marva rolled into the room in a wheelchair. Zach was behind it, carefully pushing, and Charlee thought he was smiling like he had the most important job in the entire hospital.

  “Zach! Miss Marva!” Charlee wanted to slide out of bed and hug them, but both her tired body and her mother’s eyes said no.

  “Hello, sweet Charlee,” Miss Marva said. “You look good today.”

  “I do?”

  “My. Of course you do.”

  “Why are you in a wheelchair?” Before Miss Marva
could answer, Charlee noticed Zach poking his head into the hospital bag of gifts. “Did you see what I got, Zach?”

  He began to answer, but Emily interrupted them both and asked Zach to wait outside. “There will be time for that later, kids. Miss Marva can’t stay long, and she wants to visit with Charlee.”

  Zach complied with a grouchy shrug.

  “Charlee, Miss Marva wants to stay a minute. Are you up for it?”

  “Yes! I love visitors, especially Miss Marva’s kind.” Charlee giggled at herself, but didn’t know why. She only knew she was excited to see her best friend.

  “I’ll be right outside,” Emily said. Then she pushed Miss Marva closer to Charlee’s bed. “You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

  Miss Marva’s eyes must have said no, because even though Charlee didn’t hear anything, her mother quietly stepped outside.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” Charlee said to her friend. “Are your legs hurting?”

  “A bit.”

  “Are you feeling slow today?”

  “Well, yes, I guess I am. I’m feeling very slow today. That’s a good way of putting it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Charlee said and then squeaked, “Oh! Guess what?”

  Miss Marva smiled. “What?”

  “Dad got his own apron from Mr. Rusty.”

  “I heard.”

  “Dad said he brought it to our house. He promised to wear it for me.”

  “He did?”

  “I don’t remember what it said though. Do you?”

  Miss Marva hesitated. “I sure do. It had a quote from a writer.”

  “A quote?”

  “Like when someone says something really important.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s actually one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite writers. Have you heard of C. S. Lewis?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, if God has His way, you will. The apron says Reason is the natural order of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning.”