The Christmas Train (16 page)

“Were you planning to ask me to marry you this Christmas?”

There was a long silence, broken only by the ordinary hospital sounds. Machines whirring; voices murmuring; the squeak of the meal cart rolling up the hall. Then, “No.” Her father's voice was low and miserable. “I hadn't planned on popping the question.”

Anna sucked in a sharp breath.
Bad answer, Dad.
And suddenly she wanted Joelle to marry him. Wanted it in the worst way. A father
and
a mother, just like Miss Eva had when she was a little girl.

“I see,” Joelle said. “So you're asking me now because why? Because you're afraid of raising Anna alone? That's not very reassuring. You can hire a nanny for that.”

“No. No. You've got it all wrong. Anna showing up is part of it, but not in the way you think. Because of her and Miss Eva—
especially
Miss Eva—I realize what a terrible fool I've been. How much I've taken for granted. Not just you,” he admitted. “Everybody, starting with Anna, but also my parents. Miss Eva lost her parents, her brother, and probably everyone else in her family, and she's out here sixty years later looking for them still. I don't care if she's confused about what year it is or where she's going, or that sometimes she thinks I'm her brother, Karl. She loves them so much that she's never given up on them. Never.” He paused, breathing so hard Anna could hear it. “And then there's me.”

Anna couldn't help herself. She pulled the door open just enough to see them standing a few feet away. Joelle looked like she was about to cry. Her eyes were wide and her chin was trembling. Although Anna couldn't see her father's face, she felt every bit of the emotion in his voice.

“I've been a stupid, selfish bastard, Joelle. I've taken every good thing in my life for granted. Like . . . like I deserved it or something, when the truth is, I just got lucky. So you see, honey, I'm not asking you to marry me because I need help raising Anna. My dad already told me I'm not up to the task and that Anna should live with them. And I almost stupidly agreed to it. It was only anger that stopped me.”

Anna could barely see through her tears. He already wanted to get rid of her.

“The thing is,” he continued in a hoarse voice, “I can't do that—let her go home with them. If I don't raise my daughter myself, I'll be missing out on the greatest gift God gives us: a child to love. I love Anna. It shocks me to realize how rock-solid true those words are. I love her, and I will do whatever it takes to give her the best life I can. And I want you in that life because . . . because I love you, too. You know that, don't you? How much I love you?”

Even through her tears, Anna could see Joelle nod her head.

“I want to marry you, Joelle. And I want to raise Anna with you—and any other children we might have—because that's the best life I can imagine living. It's the life I want to share with you, if you'll still have me.”

Anna caught her breath, waiting for Joelle's answer, terrified she might say no. Then, like a dam breaking, Joelle burst into tears and fell into his arms. From farther down the hall Anna heard a startled laugh, and then someone clapping approval. She wasn't the only one eavesdropping.

But she was the only one who'd just gotten a father
and
a mother for Christmas.

She wanted so badly to run to them, to squirm between them for another sandwich kiss—but she'd get her turn later.

So she eased the door closed, then hugging her happiness to her, she went back to Miss Eva. She remembered what the hospice workers had told her the one time her mother let her visit Nana Rose in the hospice ward. Talk to her. Let her know how much you love her.

Propping her forearms on the bed rail, she rested her chin on her folded hands. “Guess what, Miss Eva. My dad is getting married. So I'll have a new father
and
a new mother. And it's mainly because of you.”

Miss Eva sighed but made no real response.

Anna tilted her head to rest her cheek on the top of her hands. “It's kind of like you gave me a Christmas present. Only maybe you won't be here to see how good it turns out.”

Anna closed her eyes, oddly comforted by the regular sound from the medical machines. “But if you go to heaven, which I know you will, 'cause you're so nice, plus that war was like you already went to hell, at least for a little while. But anyway, in heaven you'll get to see your parents and your husband, and probably Karl is there, too. And Nana Rose.”

Anna's eyes popped open, and she lifted her head. “If you see Nana Rose, will you tell her how much I love her? I mean, she already knows I do. But . . . tell her anyway, okay?”

As if she'd heard her, Miss Eva's face lifted in a faint smile. “Papa.”

Anna held her breath as Miss Eva's eyelids fluttered.
“Mutti,”
she murmured as if in happy greeting.
“Und mein
Karl
.
Und
Paul.”

Then her lids fell still, her lashes rested on her cheeks, and she seemed almost to melt into the bed. “Hello,” she whispered on a sigh. “You must be . . . Nana Rose.”

And as Anna stared at her in utter shock, Miss Eva's monitor fell silent.

T
HE
car was quiet on the ride back from midnight mass. Anna and her father had gone to St. Francis Church and sat in a pew with Nesta and Mr. Nesta, as well as Joelle and her new aunt Sarah and uncle Sal. Now, in the front seat, Anna's father's right hand clasped Joelle's on the center console. Anna rested in the backseat in the embrace of soft leather, warm air, and the soothing sounds of “The Little Drummer Boy” coming from the radio. In her lap she clutched the snow globe they'd bought for Miss Eva.

How could someone be alive one minute, and then not alive the next? It was hard to understand.

One very nice thing had happened. Miss Eva's son had called them when he got back to America. Even though his mother had died before he got home, he thanked Anna and her dad for being so nice to her. Then Anna had asked him about Karl.

“We're pretty sure he died in the war just like my grandparents,” he'd told her. “It took my father a long time to get the details about my grandparents. But for Uncle Karl there was no written record of his death. Still, we found out where he'd been fighting and we knew there had been a lot of casualties there. And then there was never any record of him after the war.”

“So that's why Miss Eva was still looking for him,” Anna had said.

“I think you're right, Anna. And now she's with them all.”

And with my Nana Rose.

Anna hadn't been with Nana Rose when she died; her mother wouldn't take her back to the hospice ward because she said it creeped her out with all those old dying people. But Anna had loved her Nana Rose. And even though she hadn't known Miss Eva for very long, she loved her, too.

She turned the snow globe upside down and shook it, then held it up really close to her face and watched the snow swirl and fall and settle on the little train engine. Real snow fell and then eventually melted away. People came into your life, then, in their own way, they melted away, too.

But maybe not all the way.

Miss Eva had seen Nana Rose, and that meant Nana Rose wasn't really gone. And neither was Miss Eva.

Maybe the people you loved never were all the way gone.

She shook the globe again, squinting in the dim light, imagining Eva as a little girl, waving at a train just like this one as it passed by her house, a house with a Christmas tree that she decorated with her parents and her beloved brother, Karl.

After her father parked, they made their way through the crisp cold that seemed so perfect for Christmas Eve. Her dad held one of her hands, Joelle held the other. Another perfect thing.

“Can I open one of my presents tonight.” She looked up at her dad. “Please?”

His eyebrows came together in one worried line. “A present? But . . . um . . . you see . . .” Totally flustered, he looked to Joelle for help.

Anna grinned and decided to let him off the hook. “Don't worry. I know who Santa really is.”

Relief flooded his face, but he immediately turned stern. “What do you mean? Don't you believe in Santa Claus?”

She started to tell him that she wasn't a baby anymore, then stopped. She'd pretended for Nana Rose's sake. She could do the same for him. “Of course I believe in Santa. But I know he has helpers. Like Nana Rose. She had a present for me all wrapped up with pretty Christmas paper and a big red ribbon. I found it when we cleaned out her house.”

Joelle knelt in front of her. “You never opened it?”

Anna shook her head. “I've been saving it for Christmas morning, but . . .”

Her dad cupped her cheek with one big hand. “But you want to open it now.”

She nodded, warmed by the gentle slide of his palm on her face.

“Well, it
is
Christmas morning.” He grinned down at her. “Very early Christmas morning.”

“Probably the same time the little drummer boy came to baby Jesus to play his drum,” Anna added.

“Sure.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “You should definitely open Nana Rose's gift.”

Once they were inside, he lit the fireplace, while Joelle brought out three mugs of eggnog. Then they flanked Anna on the couch, all of them looking at the slightly rumpled present on her lap.

For a moment she was too flooded with sadness to open it. Had Nana Rose known already that she wouldn't be around at Christmas? Was that why she'd wrapped it so early?

“You okay, honey?”

Anna turned her face up to her dad—her very own dad—and tried to smile past the tears welling in her eyes. “Yeah.” She nodded, then gathering herself on a deep breath, she slid the ribbon off and carefully loosened the tape on the paper.

Inside was a shoe box she recognized. She and Nana Rose had bought the shoes last year for Easter, black patent Mary Janes that she'd already outgrown. Gingerly she removed the lid, then unfolded the tissue paper, white with little red stars scattered all over it. Nestled inside the paper was a variety of gifts. A pair of sparkly purple barrettes. A set of colored pencils, sixteen colors, not eight. Plus a pink plastic box with a shiny set of silver jacks and a bright blue ball. Nana Rose had taught her how to play jacks, and then Anna had taught some of her friends from school. Underneath those gifts she found a book wrapped in tissue paper, Nana Rose's fragile copy of
Heidi
, from her own childhood. A tear dropped onto the faded green cloth cover, and Anna quickly dried her eyes with her sleeve. “Nana Rose—” A sob caught in her throat. “She wouldn't let me read this copy 'cause it's so old and fragile.”

“I loved that story when I was a girl,” Joelle murmured.

“Me, too,” Anna said. “We went to the library and I got my own library card and checked it out. It's all about this girl who has to go live with her grandfather up on a mountain.”

Her dad circled her shoulders with one arm and gave her a squeeze. “Your Nana Rose must have been the best.”

Unable to speak, Anna just nodded.

He kissed her on the top of her head again, a habit she was beginning to like. A lot.

“There's a card at the bottom,” Joelle pointed out.

“Oh yeah.” It was a red envelope with Christmas stickers all over it. A snowman. A holly leaf with red berries. A reindeer with a big red bow to match its big red nose.

The card itself had a picture of a simple stable with a star shining down on it. Inside were several photos. But first Anna read Nana Rose's familiar looping handwriting.

My dearest darling Anna,

There is nothing so holy as a family. Jesus' family. Our family, too, small though it may be. You have made the last five years so wonderful. I love you, my Anna Rose. Even when the day comes that I must leave you, I hope you will always feel how much your Nana Rose loved you. I pray your mother will one day learn how to love you better. But even if she doesn't, there is so much other love out in the world waiting for you.

Remember, I will always be here for you, loving you forever. You have made me so happy, my child. So very happy.

Hugs and kisses from your Nana Rose

Anna's tears fell freely now, and when her father pulled her tight against him, she buried her face in his chest, sobbing. She wanted her Nana Rose so much.

“Ah, my baby girl,” he murmured against her hair.

“Am I?” she choked out. “Am I really?”

“Yes.” He and Joelle said it in unison.

Against her father's shirt Anna nodded, beginning to truly believe it could be so. He really wanted her. And so did Joelle.

Even Mr. Nesta. He didn't mind that name she'd given him. And then after midnight mass he'd hugged her and whispered in her ear. “If your dad messes up, you let me know. I'll whip his butt if I have to. And don't think I don't mean it.” They'd grinned at each other and it had been just perfect.

“There are some pictures here,” her father said, rubbing her back. “Would you rather look at them later?”

“No.” Anna straightened, wiping her eyes with her wrist, and looked up at him. “We can look at them now.”

There were only a few, two baby pictures of her in Nana Rose's arms. One of her with her mother when she was four or five, and another of her sitting in front of the Christmas tree the year she was seven and got her first two-wheel bike.

“You were such a cute baby,” Joelle said.

“She still is,” her dad put in

“I'm not a baby,” Anna protested, smiling just a little.

Then she came to the last picture. It was of a man sitting on the steps of a big building. Her father, but younger, with longer hair and a mustache.