A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five) (9 page)

“What?”

“The day he was supposed to
leave to go back to the war. He was trying to stop a mugger from attacking an
old lady, and the guy cracked his head open with the butt of his gun. Why
didn’t anyone ever tell me about this?”

“Lucy, I don’t understand why
you’re so upset. Has something happened? Is Mark all right?”

I huffed. “He’s exactly the
same, Dad. He’s in a coma. It’s been a week now. And I’m reading Aunt Lucille’s
diary and just read about this, and frankly, I’m a little miffed that no one
ever told me about this!”

“Okay, sweetheart. Just take
a deep breath for me, will you?”

I imagined my father pulling
off his readers, running his hand through his thinning hair, and trying to calm
me down. I could see this in my mind because it happened so often when I was
growing up. Especially during my teenage years. Which probably accounts for most
of those missing hairs on his head.

So I took a deep breath,
exaggerating it for his benefit. “There. All better. Start talking.”

“I’ll be glad to if you’ll
explain to me why you’re so upset. Where did this come from?”

“I don’t know, Dad. It just
feels like something was kept from me. Something so pertinent to what I’m
experiencing right now. And I guess I feel like Aunt Lucille should have told
me! All those years, when she used to tell me stories, she never once told me about
this. All she ever said was that she’d met Uncle Gary when he was home on leave
during the war. Why would she leave this part out?”

“Did you ever ask her? Ask
for more details about their courtship?”

Dad’s question caught me
short. “Well . . . no, I guess I never did. Which is odd,
actually. Because I was always so mesmerized by the two of them. How they still
acted like a couple of young lovebirds after all those years.”

Dad chuckled. “That’s true.
Gary
treated Lucille like a queen. Always did. And Lucille
pampered him something terrible.”

“Whenever I was with them, it
was almost like watching a love story on the big screen. Know what I mean?”

“I’d never thought of it that
way, but you’re right. Course, I was just a kid when they married, so that kind
of thing didn’t really register in my mind at the time. But later
‌—‌oh my goodness, they not
only doted on each other, they spoiled me rotten.”

“Which is why you adored your
sister.”

“Still do, Lucy. Still do. I
miss her more than you know.”

“Me too, Dad.”

Chapter
9

Shelly and Mark’s parents
arrived shortly after I got off the phone with Dad. I have to admit, I had
mixed feelings about them coming. As selfish as it sounds, I was feeling a
peculiar mix of territorial jealousy. I’d been with Mark since the whole
hostage incident. Others came and went, but this room, this vigil
‌—‌it was mine. And I wasn’t
sure I wanted to share it with Mark’s mom and dad.

I was so wrong.

When Lisa Christopher walked
in the room, I heard her gasp. I watched her hands cover her mouth, her brow
wrinkling as she took in the sight of her son stretched out in the hospital
bed.

“Oh, Mark,” she rasped as she
slowly moved toward the bed.

I started toward her but
stopped myself. My ridiculous territorial jealousy disappeared as I put myself
in her shoes
‌—‌seeing
her grown up baby boy looking so pale, bruised, and lifeless.

“Oh, sweetie,” she whispered
edging closer to him.

“Lucy.” Brian Christopher approached
me with outstretched arms. I’d been so focused on Mark’s mother, I hadn’t even
noticed Shelly and her dad walk in.

I started to respond but
couldn’t find my voice. He engulfed me in a bear hug and the dam inside broke.
Again.

He kissed the top of my head
and turned, his arm still over my shoulders. “How’s he doing, Lucy?”

I pressed my lips together
then croaked, “Pretty much the same. I’m so glad you’re here.”

He hugged me again then moved
aside as Mark’s mom approached me. “Oh Lucy, how are you?” She hugged me so
tight. I tried not to slobber on her coat before pulling back to face her.

“Um, I’m okay. I guess. All
things considered.”

She leaned her forehead
against mine. “How can we ever thank you enough for taking such good care of
Mark? Shelly told me you haven’t left his side since the day he was admitted.
You have no idea how much that means to us.”

I tried to shrug it off, but
she had no idea how much her words meant to
me
. I felt such a tremendous
relief just having them here
‌—‌the
complete opposite of what I’d expected.

For the next half hour, we
talked. I tried to reassure them of Mark’s prognosis, telling them what little
I knew. I stepped out briefly to ask the nurse in charge to page Dr. Bradley.
He arrived twenty minutes later and took the Christophers down the hall to a room
set aside for consultations.

While they were gone, I made
an unexpected decision. Maybe it was utter fatigue. I don’t know. But I sensed
such an intense compassion toward Mark’s parents after watching them see their
son for the first time. And I realized, if I were Mark’s mom or dad, I’d be
desperate
for time with him. Alone. Time to process. Time to come to terms with the reality
of what had happened. What might still happen.

Which is why I told them I’d
like to go home for a few hours to rest. Shelly looked at me like I’d grown a
third eye, then a moment later she mouthed
‌—‌
thank
you.
I told them I’d like to come back later after dinner and stay with
Mark overnight, if that was okay with them.

“Lucy, that’s perfectly okay
with us,” Lisa said. “We’re both exhausted from jet lag, so a good night’s
sleep in our own bed will be heavenly. As long as you promise to call us if anything
happens?”

“Mom, we’ve been at this for
a week now,” Shelly added. “Lucy knows the drill.”

“Absolutely,” I said. “And
the same applies to you
‌—‌you’ll
call me if anything happens while I’m gone, right?”

“Right,” Shelly answered,
giving me a side hug. “Now go home. Get some rest.”

The Christophers hugged me on
my way out. I knew it was the right thing to do. To give them time alone with
Mark. But still
‌—‌it
felt
so
weird to leave. As if I’d left my heart back in that room. Which,
I supposed, was exactly what I’d done.

I realized I was fingering
the heart necklace Mark had given me as the elevator dinged its arrival. As the
doors opened, there stood my uncle.

“Lucy! I was just coming to
see you.” He gave me a hug as I got in the elevator with him. “Is everything
okay?”

I pushed the button for the
first floor. “The Christophers just got here. I wanted to give them some time
with Mark.”

Uncle Ted leaned back against
the elevator wall. “That’s nice of you. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“Okay if I take a rain check?
I haven’t been out of this hospital in over a week, and all I want to do is go
home and go to bed.”

“I don’t blame you a bit. A
rain check it is.”

“Oh, wait. I just realized I
don’t have a car here. Could you give me a ride to my house?”

“My pleasure, Lucy.”

We chatted on the way to
Uncle Ted’s car in the hospital parking garage. It wasn’t until I saw his Buick
sedan that I realized what I’d gotten myself into. My uncle’s driving was the
stuff of family legend.

“Oh, Uncle Ted, I, uh, forgot
that
‍—‍”

“Hop in, Lucy.” He unlocked
the doors with his remote and motioned me toward the passenger side.

I uttered a quick prayer for
survival, too tired to grapple with finding another ride home. I’d just
fastened my seatbelt when he peeled out of the garage, leaving a patch of
rubber on the pavement behind us. Which is why I uttered a second prayer.

Oblivious to the blur of
wintry scenery flying past us or the possibility of ice on the roads, Uncle Ted
carried on a one-sided conversation while I tried hard to stifle the multiple
warning cries piercing my mind.

“You like Mark’s folks?
Y’know, it’s important to have a good relationship with a prospective mate’s
parents. It’s also a good idea to make a keen observation of his relationship
with his parents. Find a man who admires his father and honors his mother
‌—‌not just in word, but in
deed‌—‌and that’s the guy you want to marry.”

There were so many responses
I could make, but speaking was impossible given the fact that my teeth were
tightly ensconced on my lower lip. My half-hearted “uh huh” would have to
suffice.

“Now take your own mother and
father. Those two sweethearts have tremendous respect for each other. Not to
mention the way your father loves and adores my sister. And I don’t have to
tell you what a goner she is for him!”

I closed my eyes for my third
prayer.
Oh Lord Jesus, forgive me of every sin or possibility of sin or even
the tiniest inclination toward sin
‌—‌
just
please let me get home in one piece!
I peeked just in time to feel the
sharp thrust of my shoulder against the passenger window as Uncle Ted made the
final turn onto my street. The neighbors’ houses rushed by at warp speed, and I
began to panic‌—‌
will he stop at my house or will I have to
eject myself outta here as he flies past it?

His tires squealed in protest
as he slammed on the brakes, our heads jerking forward as the vehicle of death
came to an abrupt stop in my driveway. He put the gear in Park and turned
toward me.

“And what’s so wonderful
about that is, when Mark recovers and you two get back on your path to marital
bliss, Mark will easily note that your parents have given you a legacy of a
home filled with warmth and love and respect
‌—‌which all add up to making
you
a great
catch.”

Still panting from the Grand
Lemans trip home, I stared at my uncle, wondering how my calm, sensible mother
could possibly have come from the same womb. Then, unbuckling my seatbelt, I
opened the car door and paused before getting out.

I looked over my shoulder at
him. “Uncle Ted?”

“Yes, Lucy?” His eyes gazed
at me with rapt attention, a smile of expectation on his lips.

I shook my head again and
decided not to address the whole “path to marital bliss” issue. “Thanks for the
ride home.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

I nodded, then got out just
as he revved the engine. My “goodbye” was lost in a flurry of exhaust.

Inside, my house felt
strange, much like it feels after being away on an extended vacation.
Everything looks the same, but the soul of the structure seemed to keep me at
arm’s length. I cringed at the pathetic metaphor, but there it was. I’d been
gone a week, not months. And without Gertie’s nails tapping on the hardwoods to
welcome me home, I felt as though I were intruding somehow. I thought about
calling
Chad
and asking him to bring Gertie home, but
even in my sleep-deprived fog, I knew that was silly. I’d only be home a few
hours.

I ignored the pile of mail on
the table beside the door and shuffled my way down the hall, dropping my coat
and kicking off my sneakers along the way. Half an hour later, after a long and
hot bubble-filled soak in the tub, I set my alarm and climbed under the covers
of my bed.

Turns out I slept through two
alarms. Which is why it was close to
nine
o’clock
when I drove back
to the hospital. I was still groggy, but those few hours at home made a world
of difference. The urgency to check on Mark kept tapping at my heart, but each
time I remembered Lisa’s expression when she saw her son, I knew he was in good
hands.

On a whim, I stopped by
Chad
’s to see Gertie for a few minutes. Hospitals should make it
a practice to allow pets in patient rooms. Fifteen minutes of love and
affection from my sweet Scottie was good medicine. The best. Mark loves her as
much as I do, and I imagined sneaking her in and letting her lie on Mark’s bed alongside
his legs. He would love that.

The Christophers had just
finished sharing a pizza when I knocked on the door. They insisted on leaving
the last piece for me plus some humongous chocolate chip cookies Shelly had
picked up. We chatted for a few minutes before they left, and I quickly noticed
how reticent Lisa was to leave her son. How well I knew that feeling. I assured
her I’d keep a good eye on him and call if anything came up.

I felt so much better as I
settled back in my “lair” as
Chad
now called it. Clean from my bath, clean
hair, clean clothes, and even a clean mouth
‌—‌flossed and sparkling. I sat on the edge of
Mark’s bed, asking about his visit with his parents. I told him Gertie sent her
love, and how I wished I could have brought her with me. Holding his hand
between both of mine, I wished for the ten-billionth time that he would wake
up. I needed to see those warm sable eyes of his and his lopsided dimples. And
oh, how I needed to hear his laugh.

I kissed his hand and gently
placed it back on the blue hospital blanket next to his leg. He seemed to
prefer it there.

Once back in the recliner, I
reached for Lucille’s diary, suddenly anxious to find out more about Uncle
Gary’s coma
‌—‌and
wishing Lucille would talk to me through the decades and tell me how to handle
all this. Did she teeter back and forth between anxiety and faith like I did?
Did she fret over the possibility that
Gary
wouldn’t make it? Did she pray for hope
when it seemed there was none?

And did she feel the same
guilt I felt whenever I asked God to
take
Mark rather than leave him a
“vegetable” or forever lost in a coma?

Of course, I knew what she
didn’t at the point I’d stopped reading. I knew Uncle Gary would survive and
marry her. I knew their marriage would be magical and romantic for decades to
come, until they stopped counting anniversaries when Uncle Gary died. As I
opened the diary, I prayed Mark and I would have another chance just as they
had.

“Okay, big guy. I know you
enjoyed spending time with your family, but it’s time to get back to the story.
I still can’t believe Uncle Gary was so brutally attacked like that. He was
just trying to help that little old lady!” I looked over at Mark. “And don’t
you find it ridiculously bizarre that he ended up in a hospital bed in a coma
‌—‌just like you? It’s so
crazy. I always felt a special bond with Aunt Lucille. You know how much I
adored her. But that doesn’t even come
close
to what I feel now, after discovering
what they went through and how much our situations are alike. I mean, it’s
almost a little creepy, don’t you think?”