Remembering Christmas (28 page)

“Oh, I know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. I know Annabelle really good.”

“Still . . . you don’t wanna forget something that important. I think you should take a few minutes and mark the ones you know she really wants.”

“What should I write?”

“Know how to make stars?” Amy nodded. “Well, put one star by the one she wants the most, two stars for the second best one, three stars for the third . . . like that.”

“Okay, I’ll do it right now.”

“I’m going to go up front, see if your mom needs any help.”

“I’m right here,” Andrea said.

Rick looked up. She was standing in the middle of the main aisle, smiling. Then she got a concerned look on her face. “I just realized, today is your last day here, isn’t it?”

“It is?” Amy said loudly.

“Yes, it is,” Rick said.

“It can’t be,” Amy said. “Why is it your last day?”

“I have to go back to my old job on Monday.”

“Where’s that?”

“In Charlotte, where I live.”

“You don’t live here?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Where’s Charlotte? Is it far?”

“In another state.”

“Aren’t you going to be here for Christmas?” she asked.

Rick looked up at Andrea. Her face looked genuinely sad. She was sad he was leaving. “I’m gonna come back,” he said, “and spend Christmas here.”

“You are?” Amy and Andrea said in unison.

“That’s the plan. But if I don’t go back and finish my work in Charlotte, I’ll lose my job.”

“Can’t you just make this your new job?” said Amy.

“He can’t, Amy,” Andrea said. “Rick has a really important job. And Art’s getting better, so pretty soon, he’ll be back here at the store.”

Rick stood up.

“But you promise you’re coming back for Christmas, right?” Amy asked.

Promise? Rick thought. Could he promise something like that?

“Say you promise,” Amy repeated.

Rick looked at Andrea, then back at Amy’s pleading little face. “Okay, I promise.”

He looked at Andrea again, but she had turned around and headed back toward the front of the store.

Rick stepped out of the elevator at the hospital. As he waited for the nurse to buzz him through to the ICU, he was aware of another change he felt inside. He wasn’t hating being in a hospital as much. He felt a little tense, but that was all. He walked around the corner. The nurse at the counter smiled as he came to Art’s doorway. “Is it okay?” he whispered.

“You can go in.”

He saw his mom in the far corner, reading a book. A curtain pulled out from the wall blocked most of Art’s bed. Rick stepped up quietly.

As soon as she noticed him, his mom got a big smile. “Rick,” she said and stood up.

He stepped closer, and they hugged. He glanced at Art still asleep.

“What have you got there?” his mom asked.

“The latest issue of
Field & Stream
. I didn’t see any magazines here the last time I came.”

“That was sweet of you.” She was talking at a normal volume.

“Aren’t you concerned he’ll wake up?” he said quietly.

“No, he’s been sleeping all day. He still needs rest, but the doctor said I don’t have to tiptoe around anymore. We got some good news this afternoon.”

“What is it?”

“They’re moving him out of the ICU tomorrow morning. He goes to a regular bed on the second floor.”

“Really?” Rick said. “That’s some serious progress.”

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Have they noticed any other problems, because of the surgery?”

“He still can’t taste his food, the poor dear. But the doctor did some checking, and sometimes things like that come back later on.” She walked over to Art’s bedside. “Hey, Art,” she said, patting him on the arm. “Look who’s here, hon. It’s Rick.”

His eyes fluttered then opened. He focused on her face and smiled. “Did I fall asleep again?”

“A few hours ago. Are you up for a little visit?”

He awoke more fully then turned and looked at Rick.

“Hi, Art,” Rick said. “How ya feeling?”

“Not too bad, Rick.” He sat up a little. “Food’s lousy here, all tastes the same, but other than that, I’m doing okay for an almost-dead guy.”

“Stop, Art,” his mom said. “Look what Rick brought you.” She handed him the magazine.

A big smile. “This the new issue?”

“Think so,” said Rick.

“Say,” Art said, turning to Leanne. “Am I even allowed to read yet?”

“You know, I’m not sure. You better just look at the pictures till we ask Dr. Halper.”

He started flipping the pages.

“Not now, Art. We’ve got company.”

“Well, I can’t stay but a few minutes,” Rick said. “Really came to say good-bye.”

“Do you have to go already?” his mom said.

“Got to be back 8:00 Monday morning. Gotta pack and hit the road first thing tomorrow.”

“Well, don’t you worry about us, Rick,” Art said. “You heard they’re moving me to a regular room tomorrow?”

“I did.”

“I’ve already talked with Andrea,” his mom said. “I’m going to come in to see Art every morning. We’ll open the store at 10:00 instead of 9:00, give me a little more time here. She’s going to ask her boss at the diner if he’ll let her out every day at 2:00 p.m. sharp. We’ll manage till Art is out of bed. Don’t you worry.”

“I really wish I could have stayed longer, but my boss made the decision for me. It was either come back Monday or don’t come back at all. But, I am planning on coming for Christmas. That’s only nine or ten days away. If it’s all right, that is.”

“All right?” Art said. “That would be wonderful.”

“Rick . . . ” His mom had tears in her eyes. “That’ll make this the best Christmas we’ve had in years. You coming home and—”

“Me not being dead,” Art said.

“And you not being dead,” his mom said.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“But this time, when you come back, would you do your mother a big favor? It can be my Christmas present.”

“What is it?”

“Would you stay with us, instead of at a hotel?”

“It will be a sacrifice, but I think I can manage.” They didn’t see he was joking. “I mean, I’d have to give up the Magic Fingers.”

They laughed. “I forgot all about that thing,” his mother said. “You and your father used to love doing that. I didn’t know they still had those.”

“Only at the finest motels,” Rick said. “Well, I’ve gotta go.” He walked over and gave his mom a big hug. She started crying softly. “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be back soon.”

“It’s not that. I’m just so grateful . . . for everything you’ve done. I would have never made it through all this without you.”

“I’m glad I could help.” He walked over to Art.

“Rick . . . there aren’t words . . . ” His eyes filled with tears too.

“Now, let’s don’t do this,” he said, choking back his own. He reached out his hand. Art took it and pulled him closer.

“Thank you,” Art said. “For everything.”

Rick walked out into the hall, thinking, Can’t believe he’s thanking me.

About an hour later, Art was asleep again. Leanne was reading her book. Art had finished his obligatory dinner a little while ago. Still couldn’t taste it. Leanne had assured him, considering what they had served tonight, it was a blessing. She was definitely looking forward to cooking her own food again at home.

She looked up, surprised to see Andrea standing in the doorway, a concerned expression on her face. Andrea motioned for Leanne to come to her, obviously not wanting to talk in front of Art. “Is everything okay, dear?” Leanne asked.

“I can’t stay. I’ve got Amy in the waiting room.”

“You seem . . . a little upset.”

“I’m not really. Concerned, maybe . . . confused.”

“What’s the matter?”

Andrea looked around, as if they were talking too loud. “Rick is leaving tomorrow.”

“I know.” Leanne had forgotten; Andrea had begun to have feelings for him. “Does that worry you?” She spoke softly.

Andrea nodded.

“Are you afraid that going back to Charlotte will be too much for him? That he’ll get sucked back into . . . his old world?”

Andrea nodded her head. “It’s like we don’t even have to talk,” she said. “Can you just read my mind? Is that it?” She was smiling again.

“I’ve been struggling a bit about the same thing.”

“It’s just so soon,” Andrea said. “The change in him the last two days has been so wonderful, but what’ll happen when he starts getting around all his old friends, all that money and power, the greed, all the . . .”

“Women?”

“He is a handsome man,” Andrea said. “Put it together with everything else . . .”

“There is a lot to worry about,” Leanne said.

“I wouldn’t be as concerned if he had been here for a month or two after his change of heart, even a week or two. But two days? It doesn’t seem long enough. Like pouring cement and then building the house before it hardens.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Hold on a minute, let me go check on Amy.”

Leanne watched her walk back toward the waiting room. Andrea leaned into the waiting room doorway. When she pulled back out, she was smiling. “She’s fine,” Andrea said as she returned.

“Andrea, I understand your concerns. I’ve thought the same things, but really, it’s out of our hands.”

“I know, I know.” She looked away. “I just wish it wasn’t so soon.”

“All we can really do is pray,” said Leanne.

“I know,” Andrea said.

But she said it as though she didn’t believe it could possibly be enough.

Andrea walked back to the waiting room to get Amy. She stood in the doorway, looking down at Amy’s face as she looked up, responding to Andrea calling her name. Amy was so happy, so trusting, eyes so full of hope. Had Andrea ever looked at life that way?

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing, sweetheart, it’s just time to go.”

“Is Mr. Art okay?”

“He’s doing much better.”

“God’s answering all of our prayers, isn’t he?” Amy said.

“He is,” Andrea said. As they walked to the elevator, it dawned on her. God really had been answering their prayers . . . about Art. But she hadn’t prayed about Rick, hardly at all. All she’d done was worry. And be afraid about her future.

Once again, here she was, Much Afraid, tormented and harassed by the Fearings all around her. Just like the character in Hannah Hurnard’s book. She’d even been afraid to pray about Rick, afraid of the feelings she was having for him, afraid of where her heart might go if she let it run free. She pushed the elevator button.

She was tired of being Much Afraid. If she couldn’t trust the Chief Shepherd with her heart, at least enough to start praying about her fears, then who could she trust?