The Christmas Lamp (11 page)

St. John’s hospital complex commanded most of the corner of National Avenue and Cherokee Street. Roni recalled how when she was a child she loved to visit the facility and see the nuns dressed in black, their gowns whispering down the silent corridors. Once, a sister had taken Roni into her office and written on a small card,
God bless Ronda Lucille Elliot
. That card was still tacked to her bedroom wall. When life got tough, Roni would look at the message and remember the sister’s kind face, and feel better.

Mary was still in the emergency room when they got there, but she was resting comfortably. The doctor told Jake that his grandmother had a mild cardiac episode. Serious, but not critical. From her cubicle, Mary gave Jake a smile and a “thumbs-up” sign.

Soon after their arrival she was moved to a private room. The doctor could say little more than that she was aging and the heart condition was persistent.

They stood in the hallway until the nurses left and gave them permission to visit her. Roni trailed Jake into the room where the small, frail-looking woman lay on the bed.

“Comfortable?” Jake asked softly.

“Jake? Are you still here?”

Roni slipped quietly into a chair, not wanting to interfere with Jake’s ministry.

“Of course I’m still here. Why is the room so dark, Grandma?”

“Why… because nobody’s opened the blinds.” The sense of humor indicated a mind and spirit still active and alert.

“I’ll take care of that.” Jake drew the curtains and daylight illuminated the room. Stepping back to the bed, he reached for her hand. “What’s going on here? You’re not allowed to be sick.”

She was able to achieve a feeble, but sincere, smile. “I’ll get sick if I want, Jake Brisco.”

He reached behind him and pulled Roni up and close to the bed. “Grandma, this is Roni Elliot.”

“Roni.” Mary reached for her hand. “The Roni you’ve spoken about.”

Jake had told his grandmother about her? Roni glanced at him, but he was focused on the woman in the bed. “The nurses say you’re doing well.”

“Do they?”

“We can’t have you sick here during the holidays.”

She offered another weak smile. “No, that won’t do at all.” She suddenly caught his hand closer, fervor burning in her eyes. “Jake …”

“Shhh, Grandma. You’re going to be fine.”

“Jake, I’ve failed you.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Grandma. Now rest.”

She laid back, her breath short. “We should never leave unspoken … the things that need to be said.”

Jake attempted to calm her, but she pushed him away. “No. This needs to be said. When your parents and sister… were killed, I allowed my pain to shape your life. I should have taken you in, raised you, and given you a sense of true family. I was overwhelmed with … bitterness and misery, and when the holiday approached I’d draw into a shell and pray that the weeks would pass quickly … so we’d be done with hurtful reminders. I knew you never wanted to come see me, and God forgive me, I didn’t insist that your aunt bring you here. Never once did I consider the good that remained in my life.”

Nudging a blanket aside, Jake perched on the edge of the mattress. “Don’t blame yourself. I never wanted to come. I was a kid who had better things to do, or so I thought.”

Mary suddenly changed the subject. “Your mother hated meatloaf, did you know that? She refused to eat it as a child.”

“I think I’ve consumed her share the past few years.”

She patted his hand. “Do you recall the fun and laughter Christmas used to bring?”

“Sure I do, Grandma. I couldn’t wait for Christmas Eve at your house, especially the cookies we’d bake.”

“Such warm memories. I’d decorate every nook and cranny of the house. Your folks would come for the holiday, and your mom and I would make pies and candy.

Those were some of the best times of my life, and your Aunt Louise deprived you of such memories. After the accident, my Christmases were so quiet; so very silent.”

“Grandma, you’re going to be around for many more Christmases, and if you want to decorate the house this year, I’ll help.”

Roni said softly. “I’ll help too. The nurses say you’re doing remarkably well.” She didn’t know why she felt an instant bond with this woman. Maybe it was because she reminded Roni of her Grandma Sue. Grandma used to phrase her speech in the same odd, broken pattern.

“Wouldn’t that be lovely.” Mary’s eyes drifted shut and she laid still. Roni glanced at Jake, who bent closer to check her breathing.

“She’s asleep,” he whispered.

“I’m not asleep, Jake. I’m only catching my breath. I’m so tired. There’s so much I want to tell you. I should have mailed you the lamp. I should have at least done that much.”

“You did, Grandma. Several years ago.”

“I did? Silly me. I guess I wanted to forget it.” Mary blindly groped for his hand. “I didn’t get a chance to feed Max.”

“I’ll stop by and feed your dog, Grandma.”

“Give him a little extra tonight,” she whispered. “He cried when I left in … the ambulance.”

10

Rush hour traffic packed National Avenue when the Acura pulled out of the hospital drive. Roni longed to erase the worried lines etching his forehead. “I know you’re concerned, but the nurses say she’s doing very well.”

“She looks frail to me.” Jake reached for Roni’s hand.

“I don’t know what I’d do without her. It took a long time to form a relationship, but we did. She’s all I have now.”

Roni tightened her grip in his. “God willing, you still have lots of time with your grandma.”

“Do you mind if I stop by my place, and then feed Max? I want to pick up a few things.”

“Not at all. I’m in no hurry.”

Besides, Jake was growing on her. She’d love to see how and where he lived his personal life.

Jake’s residence was the entire second floor of a building that had once housed Springfield Grocer Company.

The structure sat on Booneville Street near the hub of Springfield’s downtown area, the historic, old town district where second and third floor spaces were being refurbished into trendy lofts and apartments. When the Acura pulled up in front of the building, Roni couldn’t contain her excitement. “This is where you live?”

“This is it.” Jake cut the engine, got out, and opened her door.

To the left was a private elevator that whisked them to the second floor. The bottom floor was empty with a
For Lease
sign displayed prominently.

“You’re renting out space?” Roni asked.

“The building’s too big for one family. It was once a wholesale food distribution operation.” He sniffed. “If you have a good imagination you can still smell the aroma of fresh ground coffee.”

Drawing a deep breath, Roni detected the faint fragrance. “You really can.”

The elevator stopped, and she stepped out into the apartment itself. Jake flipped a switch and soft lighting lit the luxurious area. The apartment had a marble entry, plush sofas and chairs, and rich mahogany tables; carpets and accessories from abroad filled the spacious loft.

“It’s breathtaking,” she murmured.

Jake walked through the room switching on additional lighting. “When I was a kid I used to come here around the holidays. My parents knew the owners then, and Jill and I would sit in the front window and watch the Christmas parade. It was quite an event back then. If I were lucky I’d get to invite a friend from school, so I became pretty cool around Christmastime.”

“I’ll bet you were cool all the time.”

“I wasn’t,” he assured her. “I was a geek with big glasses. I wore sweaters and slacks. I ate lunch alone every day, except for the couple of weeks prior to the holiday parade.” He hit a button and the drapes drew back to reveal downtown Springfield. “Several years ago, the old building came up for sale and I bought it.” He motioned.

“Come here.”

She walked over to enjoy the sight. Outside, Christmas lights were starting to come on. The neon signs and the lighted snowflakes hanging from the streetlights glistened and glowed. The sight gave her goose bumps.

Jake’s arms encircled her waist, and she leaned back to rest against his tall frame. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

“It’s lovely.”

Then his tone sobered. “Do you think Grandma will make it?”

How she wished she could remove the worry in his voice. A cardiac episode could be serious. The nurses had said she was stable, but anything could happen at her age.

“I don’t know, Jake. All we can do is pray.”

He squeezed her waist and then released her. “The attic’s this way.”

“The attic?”

“Yeah, I have to look for something. Want to help?”

“Sure.”

She turned to follow him through the spacious apartment. Pausing in front of a door, he confessed. “It’s probably cluttered up there. I’ve been promising myself I would clean it, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.” He opened the door and ushered her up a steep flight of stairs.

The attic area was monstrous. Stored items dating back to the days that the building had been a food company met her eyes. Coffee grinders, huge barrels that had once held coffee beans, counters, light fixtures. The faint smell of coffee lingered here too.

“This junk was part of the deal,” he explained. “Nobody’s ever wanted to move it, so it’s stayed over the years.” He paused, his eyes searching the dimly lit space. “The Christmas decorations should be over here somewhere,” he said, leading the way through a maze of piled boxes. After a bit of searching, they struck gold. They located a section marked “Christmas.” Standing back, Jake shook his head. “I haven’t touched this stuff in years. It might take a while to find the lamp.”

“You’re looking for a lamp?”

“A very special lamp.”

His prediction was accurate, as it took a lot of digging to locate the item, but the search produced priceless memories for him. He held up an ornament he’d made in first grade. “Did I mention that I’m an artist?”

The dried glue and sequined angel made Roni laugh.

He frowned. “You’re laughing at Picasso-quality work?”

She bit her lip to stop the laughter. “It’s very ornate.”

One box after the other exposed ornaments, tinsel, lights, and half-melted candles. Finally Jake hit pay dirt.

“Wait. I think I’ve found it.”

She scooted closer. “Open it. I can hardly wait to see what we’ve been looking for.”

His expression softened when he lifted the ornate porcelain base and held it up for inspection. “It’s exactly as I remember.”

Roni examined the exquisite pattern. “It’s so very lovely. Was it your mother’s?”

“No, Grandma took it out of her front window on the night of the car accident. She never put it up again. A few years ago she sent it to me, but I stored it away.”

Handing it back, Roni smiled. “It’s very unique, like your grandmother.”

Cold sunlight backlit the treetops early the next morning when Jake drove back to Springfield. He grabbed a cup of gas-station coffee and headed for the hospital. A quick call when he got up assured him that Grandma had spent a comfortable night. Sleep had eluded him. He’d tossed and turned, trying to figure out why Christmas no longer held the meaning it once had. Sure, without Mom, Dad, and Jill, nothing was ever the same. But life had gone on.