The Christmas Bus (17 page)

Peter, a good piano player, had made himself comfortable playing Christmas carols in the living room with a jolly little circle gathered around him doing their best to sing, although only a few seemed to know all the words. Others had broken into various groups and were visiting comfortably, and as far as Edith could see, everyone was engaged and having a pretty good time. But for the second time tonight, she didn’t see Myrtle anywhere. Finally, she decided to ask if Charles had seen her. It was entirely possible that Myrtle had come down while Edith was busy in the kitchen and gotten into some kind of a fracas with someone, perhaps even Mr. Benson, although he seemed to be enjoying himself as he looked at Millie Mortenson’s pictures of grandchildren.

“I haven’t seen her,” Charles told Edith after she inquired.

“Not at all?”

“No. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her since last night.”

“Not even at breakfast?” asked Edith. “I was so busy in the kitchen that I didn’t really pay close attention to who came and went.”

“I was only there for about thirty minutes, but Myrtle didn’t come down during that time. That’s probably why I had such a pleasant breakfast.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. “Sorry, that wasn’t very gracious of me. But, if you think about it, things are going rather well this evening. Why push Myrtle into being social if she’d rather keep to herself ?”

She considered this. “Yes, she may be using this time to think about things. But I do hope that she’s not feeling badly about last night. Do you think that’s the problem?”

He patted her on the back. “My guess is that she’s simply worn out from all the activities yesterday. She probably grabbed a quick breakfast when neither of us were looking . . . and don’t forget that you left all those luncheon goodies out, which I’m sure she helped herself to . . . and perhaps after that she took a little afternoon nap. Don’t worry. I’m sure she’ll be down here before you know it.”

“You’re probably right.”

After that, Edith had her hands full just keeping the food coming as well as taking time to visit with her guests, so much so that she hardly noticed that nearly two hours had passed and Myrtle still hadn’t come down.

“Has anyone seen Myrtle today?” she finally asked a few guests. But no one seemed to have seen her.

“I haven’t seen her since yesterday.” Mr. Benson chuckled. “Not that I mind so much.”

“She’s probably tired out from yesterday,” Edith told him, echoing Charles’s earlier explanation, although she wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, it was getting late, the party was dwindling to an end, and Myrtle still hadn’t made an appearance. Charles still felt certain that the old woman was simply catching up on her rest. “She had a very busy few days,” he reminded Edith. “And she’s not exactly a young woman. Besides, tomorrow’s Christmas, and I’m sure she’ll be up bright and early to interrupt your quiet morning time. Just wait and see.”

Edith thought he was right, but she still felt a bit concerned when she went to bed. What if something
was
wrong? Perhaps she should’ve checked on the old woman earlier just to be sure, but now it was so late that she didn’t like the idea of disturbing her. Edith had done that with an elderly guest once before, waking the poor old fellow out of a perfectly good sleep, only to get scolded for her intrusion. And she certainly didn’t wish to be reproached by Myrtle of all people. Charles was probably right. She’d see Myrtle soon enough in the morning.

16

Christmas morning came, and Edith got all the way through her devotional reading without being interrupted. She fixed a festive Christmas breakfast, with Charles’s help, and still no Myrtle. Even the other guests noticed the old woman’s absence. And finally Edith couldn’t stand it any longer. Goodness, what if Myrtle had died in her sleep?

“I’m going to go check on her,” she announced, then glancing at Charles, she considered asking him to join her. But that might alarm the other guests. And this was, after all, Christmas. Edith was probably just blowing this thing all out of proportion.

“I’ll come with you,” said Charles, standing. Edith wanted to hug him and say thanks, but she simply nodded.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Charles said as they went up the stairs. “But I do understand your concern.”

“She’s normally such an early riser,” said Edith weakly, trying not to fear the worst.

Now they were standing in front of the door to the Green Meadow Room, the room where Myrtle was staying. Edith tapped on the door, first lightly, then louder. But there was no response. “Myrtle?” she called, waiting. Nothing but silence.

“It’s probably locked,” said Edith, reaching into her pocket for the master key. But before she got it out, Charles had already tried the door, and it opened. Edith took in a quick breath, bracing herself for whatever might be in there, but when the door swung open they could see the neatly made bed, and as they went inside, everything seemed in perfect order. Almost as if Myrtle had never been there at all. And she certainly wasn’t there now. Everything was just as tidy as it had been after Edith straightened and replaced linens yesterday.

“Where is she?” said Edith, feeling a bit lost.

“Where are her things?” asked Charles as he continued looking around the orderly room as if he expected to find a clue.

Edith didn’t know what to think. “I have no idea.”

“Look,” said Charles, pointing at something on the bureau.

Edith came over to see that it was her porcelain angel. “My angel!” she exclaimed. “What is it—”

“There’s something underneath it,” said Charles as he carefully lifted the angel and picked up the small white envelope with the picture of a shepherd and lamb on one side, stationery provided by their inn.

“To the innkeepers.” Edith read the front of the envelope as Charles handed it to her. She slowly opened it, and the first thing she noticed was the money inside. “What is this?” She handed the bills to Charles, then proceeded to read the juvenile-looking handwriting out loud.

“Thanks for your hospitality. You got a nice place here. Sorry I couldn’t stick around to say good-bye, but it’s time for me to go. Collin and Amy can use my room now that I’m gone. I have one more week paid up, and the money enclosed is for any extra days or in case they need gas money. I know you’ll take care of it for me. Sincerely, Myrtle.”

“So she’s really gone.” Edith looked around the room one more time, almost in disbelief. “I was prepared to have her around for another week.”

Charles just shook his head. “But how did she leave? She had no car. Did you see anyone coming to pick her up yesterday?” “No . . .”

“Do you think someone might’ve picked her up on Friday night, during the Christmas pageant? There were so many people there, it’s possible that she arranged to be quietly picked up and we just didn’t notice.”

“I suppose . . .” Still, Edith thought it was odd. “But I don’t know why she would be so secretive. Myrtle wasn’t exactly a private person, you know. She didn’t really seem to care what people thought of her. Why would she leave so quietly?”

“I don’t know.” Charles frowned. “I hope I didn’t offend her when I told her and Olive to stop arguing. But I didn’t single her out. I addressed Olive in the same manner.”

“Oh, I don’t think Myrtle was easily offended,” said Edith, even though she’d had a similar concern earlier. She just didn’t want Charles to feel guilty.

“You don’t think she would’ve tried to make it out of here on foot, do you?” said Charles uncertainly.

“Oh, I don’t think so . . .”

“Just the same, maybe I should drive around a bit, check around town, just in case. I’d feel horrible to think that old woman is out on the road, in the snow, and on Christmas.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I know I’d appreciate it. But before you leave, let me go take a look at her registration form. Maybe I can give her home a call and see if she’s arrived safely.”

“Yes. That’s a good plan.”

They hurried downstairs, and Edith searched in her file until she found Myrtle’s registration form. But other than her name, the form was blank. “I thought you said she filled this out,” she said to Charles.

He adjusted his glasses to look at it. “Well, I thought she did.” He scratched his head now. “But then I remember she wanted to pay in cash, and so I was more focused on doing the math and making her change, and I suppose I just dropped the form into your file and never really looked at it.”

“This is very weird, Charles. Someone drops this eccentric woman off, she pays for two weeks’ lodging in cash, and then she disappears after one week. It could almost make someone think that she’s some deranged patient who escaped from some institution.”

“Or an angel.”

She turned and looked at Charles. “You don’t really think?”

He kind of laughed. “Well, certainly an odd angel.”

“Very odd.”

“Edith?”

She turned to see Collin, and his face looked frightened. “What is it?” she asked.

“Amy!” he exclaimed. “She’s in labor. What should I do?”

By now several of the guests had gathered around, witnessing this little spectacle.

“Oh!” Edith looked at Charles. “Should we drive them to the hospital?”

“No,” said Collin. “Amy refuses to go to the hospital. I already asked her, and she got really mad at me. I promised her that she wouldn’t have to go, but now I’m not so sure. What should I do?”

“Can you get her into the house?” asked Edith. “Can she make it up the stairs?”

“Up the stairs?” Collin looked confused now.

“Myrtle left. She wanted you kids to have her room.”

Collin brightened a bit. “Really?”

“Yeah, but can Amy get in here okay?”

“I’ll go see.”

“I’ll come help,” said Charles.

Then Edith got on the phone. She hated to disturb Helen on Christmas Day, but Helen had made her promise. And as it turned out, Helen sounded quite pleased. “No, it’s not a problem, Edith. We’re not really doing anything at all. It’s just Clarence and me. I’ll have him drive me right over, well, as soon as I get some things together first.”

It was quite amazing how the other guests stepped in to help. Leslie, the person who had most recently given birth, took it on herself to help coach Amy through labor. Meanwhile Lauren and Michael entertained little Megan with games and books. Edith, distracted in trying to help Helen and Leslie and making sure they had what they needed for Amy, was forced to let her regular chores go, but Carmen and Jim Fields jumped right in, actually putting away all the breakfast things and cleaning the kitchen. And Mr. Benson and Helen’s husband, Clarence, enjoyed several games of chess.

During this hectic time at the bed and breakfast, Charles was out scouring the town of Christmas Valley. He even called Peter and asked him to look around a bit too. But finally the two of them met on a deserted Main Street and, certain that Myrtle wasn’t out shivering in an alley somewhere, decided to return to the inn.

Amy’s labor intensified in the afternoon, and everyone continued to pitch in to help, taking turns running things upstairs and helping to get Christmas dinner ready in the kitchen. All the guests offered to straighten their own rooms and replenish their own linens. Edith was actually able to sit down and put her feet up for a few minutes.

Angela Myrtle was born at 3:45 p.m. After helping Helen to clean off the squirming wet infant and wrapping her into a snug flannel blanket, Edith went down to fetch her kitchen scales. Little Angela weighed in at seven pounds and four ounces.

“Angela
Myrtle
?” Edith queried as she adjusted the pillow beneath the tired mother’s head.

Amy smiled. “Angela is for Collin’s grandmother. Myrtle is for the kind woman who allowed us to stay in this amazing room.” She looked around the room, with its soothing green colors and peaceful pastoral pictures adorning the walls, and smiled. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now. I never dreamed I’d have my baby in such a beautiful place.”

“Myrtle’s timing couldn’t have been better,” said Edith as she gathered up some linens.

“Where did she go, anyway?” asked Collin. He was sitting at the end of Amy’s bed now, cradling his brand-new daughter in his arms.

“We don’t really know,” admitted Edith. “But it seemed her mission here was done.”

“Mission?”

Edith smiled. “I think God gives us all some kind of mission.”

Somehow the turkey and dressing and all the rest of the Christmas dinner made its way to the big dining room table on time. And as Charles and Edith and all their houseguests, minus the new little family upstairs and plus Helen and Clarence and Peter, gathered together, Charles invited them to all bow their heads in a Christmas blessing. Before Charles said “amen,” he specifically thanked God for sending them Myrtle.

“So, do you really believe that God sent Myrtle?” queried Mr. Benson with a somewhat skeptical expression across his brow.

Charles nodded solemnly. “Yes, I do. I’m just sorry that I didn’t notice sooner.”

That’s when everyone at the table began to share their own personal experiences and exchanges with the peculiar woman. And most had to agree that Myrtle had indeed rubbed them wrongly, at least to begin with, but at the same time she had touched them at some level—some deep level where they all needed a touch.

Certainly, not everyone was convinced that Myrtle had literally been sent by God via a direct route from heaven. But some weren’t so sure she hadn’t.

“Perhaps it’s not so important that we know where Myrtle came from for certain,” Charles finally said. “As long as we believe that God can use someone as unexpected and unconventional as Myrtle to touch our lives. Maybe that’s what really matters.”

But Edith felt certain that Myrtle was indeed an angel. Only, like her husband, she wished that she’d come to this realization sooner. She also wished that she’d treated Myrtle with a bit more love and respect. Although that might’ve spoiled things for the strange old woman, blowing her cover, so to speak—because, Edith suspected, Myrtle’s mission may not have been accomplished if she hadn’t performed it incognito.

Melody Carlson
is the prolific author of more than a hundred books, including fiction, nonfiction, and gift books for adults, young adults, and children. She is also the author of
Three Days
and
The Gift of Christmas Present
. Her writing has won several awards, including a Gold Medallion for
King of the Stable
(Crossway, 1998) and a Romance Writers of America Rita Award for
Homeward
(Multnomah, 1997). She lives with her husband in Sisters, Oregon.