A Simple Christmas Wish (3 page)

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“Aunt Rachel?” Holly said quietly, gently tapping Rachel’s cheek with her little fingers. “Time to get out of bed, sleepyhead.”

Rachel blinked and sat up. “Morning,” she croaked back at her.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Holly chirped back. She had her favorite stuffed toy, a gently worn butterscotch-colored rabbit, in her arms. “Bunny and I already went out to see our Christmas tree together. The lights were still on.”

Rachel shoved her feet into the pair of Uggs she’d left next to the bed. “Uh-oh. I must’ve forgotten to turn them off last night.”

“I think we should leave them on
all
the time,” Holly told her. “Day and night.”

“And I think we should make some breakfast.” Rachel reached for the old plaid flannel robe she’d scavenged from
Michael’s castoffs many years ago. Pulling it on, she tied the belt snugly around her waist and tried not to cry as the thought of never seeing her big brother again hit her.

“Are you sad, Aunt Rachel?” Holly was studying her carefully.

Rachel forced a weak smile. “Maybe . . . a little.”

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Rachel nodded. “Yes, I think I did.” She swallowed against the tears threatening to spill. How was she supposed to do this—how was she supposed to break this horrible news?

Holly put her arms around Rachel’s waist, hugging her. “It’ll be all right.”

Rachel knelt down and hugged her niece back. “Thanks, honey. I needed that.”

“I know what we should do,” Holly said as she led Rachel by the hand into the kitchen. “We should have blueberry pancakes for breakfast. Okay?”

“Sure.” Rachel went directly for the espresso maker, routinely going through the steps while Holly chattered away at her about how she only got to have pancakes when Rachel was there and how she sometimes liked them with blueberries, but sometimes she didn’t. How was it possible for a small child to have so much to say? Still, it was cheerful and much better than silence. She tried to form the words in her head, but every sentence sounded even worse than the one before. How did one tell a child her parents were dead?

Before long, they were seated at the breakfast bar with their pancakes, minus the blueberries, and eating companionably together. For a brief spell, Rachel blocked out the elephant in the room. As she sipped her espresso, she realized it wouldn’t be too hard to get used to this—the idea of quitting her job
in order to play the parent to this loquacious child, giving up her shared house to live in a swanky city apartment that overlooked the river . . . it was all rather appealing. That is until the harsh reality hit her all over again. The ache she felt, knowing how she’d arrived at this place, seemed to choke out all sense of pleasure. How was she going to tell Holly?

“Is it Sunday today?” Holly asked as they carried their dishes to the kitchen sink.

“Uh-huh.”

“Will we go to church?”

Rachel paused to look down at Holly. She hadn’t really planned to go to church, but all things considered, it was probably a good idea. Maybe she would find the strength and the answers there. If nothing else, it would postpone the inevitable. “Yes. We will definitely go to church.”

“We don’t always go to church,” Holly pointed out. “But sometimes we do.”

“Well, I think we
need
to go today.” Rachel looked at the clock in the kitchen, a sleek glass piece with no numbers, but still she could tell it was about nine-thirty, which meant they had about an hour. “We’ll need to hurry to get ready, and I still need a shower.”

She helped Holly find an appropriate outfit, laying it all out on her bed, then hurried to shower and dress herself. Yes, the idea of going to church today was suddenly very appealing. She sometimes felt guilty for all the times she’d missed church because of her erratic work schedule, but at the same time, she’d always believed that God understood such things. However, as she was getting dressed, she questioned herself. How well did she understand God? Why would he
allow the plane carrying Michael and Miri to go down like that? How was she supposed to understand and accept that? How would Holly?

At just a little before eleven o’clock, Rachel and Holly were walking into the frosty churchyard. This was the same church that Rachel and Michael and their mother had attended so many years ago. The same church where they’d attended their mother’s funeral, and where Michael and Miri had said their wedding vows, and now it would be the location for yet another memorial service. Rachel walked Holly downstairs to where the children’s classes were held, then hurried back up in time for the beginning of the service. Glancing around the sanctuary, she could see that little had changed in here, but because she came so seldom, the faces seemed less familiar. And yet, as she slid into the pew, she felt strangely at home.

As the organist played an old hymn, Rachel remembered when she was a girl how her mother would sometimes slip her arm around her, snuggling her up close. Whether it was her imagination or not, Rachel felt a surprising sense of warmth just now—almost as if her mother were trying to comfort her, as if she understood. As if, in a way, she were here.

Rachel had slipped a small bundle of tissues into her purse, and as the old pastor, Reverend Hanson, began his sermon, talking about finding precious treasures in unexpected places, she allowed her tears to start flowing freely again. She didn’t even care if others in the congregation could hear or see her. Really, if you couldn’t cry in church, where could you cry?

After the service ended, a couple of older women came over to speak to her. They seemed vaguely familiar, but she didn’t recall exactly who they were. They reintroduced themselves as
Viola and Mabel. They claimed they remembered her mother and how sad it was when she passed. Hearing this, Rachel decided to open up, telling them of this most recent tragedy.

“Oh, you poor baby.” Viola wrapped her big brown arms around her in a warm bear hug. “You poor, poor dear.”

“And my niece is downstairs right now,” Rachel sobbed. “I haven’t even told her yet.”

Now both of the women hugged her, holding her between them like two mother hens. Then they ushered her directly to Reverend Hanson, who was standing in the back. Viola quickly explained Rachel’s situation to him, and he too hugged Rachel, expressing sympathy, then prayed for her and for Holly.

“Thank you.” She wiped her eyes with the last of her wad of tissues. “Thank you all.” She gave them a shaky smile. “I really appreciate your support. I needed that.”

“And you’ll call me to schedule the memorial service tomorrow morning?” Reverend Hanson reminded her. “I’m not positive, but I believe the church is available on Thursday morning. If you think that’s okay, I can pencil it in.”

“That’s probably fine, but I will call you.”

“We’ll arrange with the women to have meals delivered to you and Holly for the next two weeks.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“You must allow us do this,” Mabel insisted. “It’ll be one less thing for you to concern yourself with.”

“And we’ll organize a lunch to follow the memorial service on Thursday,” Viola said.

“But I—”

“Don’t argue with your elders.” Mabel shook a friendly
finger at her. “You don’t have your mother around to help you out, so why not let us?”

Rachel nodded, thanking them again. “I better go get Holly before she starts getting worried.”

“We’ll be praying for you, dear,” Viola assured her as they accompanied her to the stairs. “For both you and little Holly.”

“Yes.” Mabel nodded so eagerly her chins shook. “We will pray that God gives you just the right words for the child.”

“Are there any right words?” Rachel asked them.

Viola held up her hands. “I don’t know about that, but I do believe love speaks louder than words. And it’s plain to see you’ve got plenty of that.”

Fortunately, Holly wasn’t the last child in the classroom. She seemed intent on finishing up the nativity scene she was coloring, so Rachel didn’t even bother to rush her. Instead she wandered around the room, remembering how she had attended Sunday school in this same room three decades ago. Like the rest of the church, not much had changed here either. Even though it seemed a little faded and dowdy, it was comforting. Rachel had almost forgotten those days. But, as Holly’s godmother and now her guardian, she would see to it that Holly grew up getting all the spiritual training necessary to ensure a happy and healthy life.

Holly chatted cheerfully and obliviously as they rode the train back into the city. The whole while, Rachel felt distracted as she tried to formulate a plan for telling Holly about her parents’ deaths. She knew this was not going to be easy. She couldn’t keep putting it off, but then instead of going directly to the apartment, Rachel decided to stop at one of the nearby restaurants for some lunch. That way
Holly would have something in her stomach before hearing the bad news.

They both ordered tomato basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, then quietly ate, dipping corners of their sandwiches into the soup.

“We like the same things, don’t we?” Holly said as they were finishing up.

Rachel nodded. “Yes, we do.”

“Do we both like ice cream for dessert?” Holly asked hopefully.

Rachel smiled. “I suppose we do.”

The inevitable was postponed for a while longer as they indulged in ice cream. Eventually they were back inside the apartment, and after they’d both changed into comfortable clothes, Rachel invited Holly to join her under the tree. This time, she gathered some pillows and blankets to make a more comfortable place.

“I have something really, really hard to tell you,” Rachel began. “It’s something that’s really, really sad.”

“What’s wrong?” Holly frowned. “Are you going away, Aunt Rachel?”

“No, no, I’m not going anywhere.”

Holly looked relieved. “Oh.”

“But it’s still very, very sad news, and I know you’re going to be quite upset. I was really upset when I heard it. I didn’t understand it. To be honest, I still don’t understand it, and I’m still very, very sad.”

Holly’s face looked so intent that she seemed close to tears, and Rachel knew she needed to just get it out.

“It’s about your mommy and daddy,” she said slowly. “Last
night I got a phone call from where they’re at—you know, on their vacation trip.”

“In the Caribbean?” She said
Caribbean
slowly, as if she was dissecting it into small pieces.

“Yes, that’s right. The Caribbean.”

“For their anniversary,” Holly added in a mature-sounding voice.

“Yes, that’s right too. I almost forgot it was to celebrate their anniversary—their tenth.” Rachel swallowed hard against the lump building in her throat. “As I was saying, I got a phone call last night and was told that your mommy and daddy were on a small airplane, flying from one island to another. There was a problem. The plane didn’t make it to the island. It crashed into the ocean.”

Holly’s brown eyes grew larger. “It crashed?”

Rachel nodded. “Your mommy and daddy died in the crash, Holly.” She waited for Holly to absorb this.

“Mommy and Daddy?” Holly’s chin quivered.

“They died in the crash.” Rachel was crying now. “And they can never come back home to us, Holly. They are with God in heaven now.”

Holly’s eyes filled with tears, and they began pouring down her cheeks as Rachel took her into her arms, gently rocking her as they sat at the foot of the Christmas tree. “That’s why I was so sad this morning,” Rachel explained. “I didn’t really know how to tell you. Your daddy and mommy were my only family too. Well, except for you. And now all we have is each other, Holly. You and me.”

Holly pulled back and looked into Rachel’s face with tear-filled eyes. “Are you going to live with me and take care of me?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “It’s just you and me now. We have to take care of each other. Do you think we can do that?”

Holly nodded. “Uh-huh.”

Rachel hugged her again and together they cried some more, holding on to each other and rocking back and forth, letting their tears flow freely. After a while, they both lay down on the pillows and blankets beneath the tree and looked up at it, talking about Michael and Miri, taking turns sharing their favorite memories. Rachel told Holly about how excited her parents were when she was born. She told her stories about her parents that Holly had never heard before or had been too little to remember. They stayed under the Christmas tree for a couple of hours, having their own private memorial service, talking and weeping and remembering, until eventually, Holly fell asleep. Not wanting Holly to wake up all alone, Rachel remained there with her . . . thinking and praying and hoping that they were both going to be okay.

3

Rachel decided that the best way for Holly to get over the shock and sadness of losing her parents was to go back to school and resume her normal routine as soon as possible. On Monday, instead of just dropping Holly off at the front door, Rachel went into school with her, getting there early enough to speak to the principal and her teacher, informing them of the situation. Naturally, they wanted to do all they could to help Holly make the necessary adjustments. They promised to call Rachel if any problems developed. Rachel bent down to kiss Holly, who was acting surprisingly brave, and it was only as Rachel walked out of the building that she realized she would probably miss Holly more than Holly would miss her.

Still, Rachel had plenty to do to keep herself busy, and as soon as she got home, she made a detailed to-do list—everything from giving notice on her job, to making arrangements in the Caribbean, to contacting Michael’s law firm, to preparing announcements for the newspapers, to reserving the church, to letting Nanny Vida know. The list grew as she
remembered more things that needed doing. Some she was able to check off, and before she knew it, it was time to go pick up Holly.

So the week went, with Rachel putting most of her energy into caring for Holly and keeping her life on track by helping her make sugar cookies to take to school and attending the school’s Christmas program, as well as packing up and moving her own things into the apartment, and attending to all the various details surrounding the deaths of Michael and Miri. There was hardly a moment to spare, and Rachel was very thankful for the regular delivery of dinners from the church ladies.