A Child's Christmas. Kate James
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seat in the bay window, with forest-green brocade drapes tied back on either side. A large, overstuffed reclining chair was positioned near the hearth.
Her father sat in the chair, his hands linked across his slightly protruding belly, his head bent forward. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with his breathing. A book was splayed open on his lap. Seeing her father like this, still youthful looking and so peaceful, Paige found it even harder to accept his illness.
Iris bolted past Paige and skidded to a stop at her father’s feet, tail thumping against the side of the chair. Paige followed her in and bent down to run a hand along her back. “Watching over Dad while he sleeps, are you?”
Charlotte had moved over to stand beside her husband. It was never lost on Paige that after nearly five decades of marriage, her parents’ love had not only endured but seemed to intensify year after year. With a loving touch, her mother brushed back the still-thick lock of salt-and-pepper hair that had fallen over her father’s forehead. When he stirred, she murmured softly, “Stephen, honey, look who’s here.”
Appearing disoriented, he gazed up at his wife and smiled. “Good morning.” Charlotte didn’t bother to correct him about the time of day. Rather, she took one of his hands in her own, gesturing with the other. “Stephen, it’s Paige.”
Stephen turned his bright smile on his daughter, and Paige’s heart melted as she crouched down so they were eye to eye. “Hi, Dad.”
Confusion flitted across Stephen’s face, but his smile didn’t waver. “Hello, young lady.”
Still uncertain whether he recognized her, Paige reached for his free hand. “How’re you feeling?”
“Oh, just fine, thank you.” His eyes cleared, and Paige held her breath. “You must be the new nurse.”
Charlotte was about to interject, but Paige shook her head. She didn’t want to cause discomfort for either of her parents, or further pain for herself. She spoke quietly with her father for a few minutes about generalities, the weather and a TV show he remembered watching. When it was evident that he was struggling to keep his eyelids from drifting shut again, she rose. By the time her mother replaced the book on the end table next to the chair and tucked a light throw around his lap, he was sound asleep.
Paige kissed his forehead and skimmed her hand over his. With a final longing glance at her father, she accompanied her mother out of the room. Iris gamboled after them to the doorway. There she paused, considered and did a quick shuffle. With a small sigh, she returned to the foot of the easy chair to curl up by her master again.
Paige prepared a pot of coffee while her mother set out mugs, plates, napkins and—despite Paige’s protests—some homemade biscuits.
With their hands joined across the kitchen table, Paige told her mother everything there was to tell. When they finished the first pot of coffee, Charlotte brewed another. Painful as it was for Paige to share her burden, she did feel slightly better. They sat at the table, eyes brimming with tears.
“Honey, what can I do to help?”
“Just be here for me, Mom.”
Charlotte squeezed Paige’s hands. “Have I ever not been?”
On a long breath, Paige turned her hand over and curled her fingers around her mother’s.
“Do you need money?”
Paige heaved a huge sigh. “Of course. But I’ll manage.”
“How much do you need?”
“Mom, you can’t. Where would you get it?”
“Our savings. If need be, we can borrow against the house.”
“Mom, no! You need your savings to live on. And how would you repay a loan? You’re already stretching your retirement benefits as it is.”
Charlotte patted Paige’s hand. “Let me worry about that. Jason is our priority.” She gave her daughter a firm look. “If you need money, you tell me.”
Paige sighed again. “I will, but I can’t let you use your savings or take any equity out of the house.”
“What about Mark? Does he know?”
“No.” Paige realized her answer sounded abrupt, but given how things had ended with her ex-husband four years ago—over Jason’s initial diagnosis—she couldn’t help it. “I can’t see him offering any assistance.”
Charlotte peered at Paige over her glasses. It was the look that had put fear into Paige as a child. “Maybe not. But he is Jason’s father.”
“You remember what happened the first time Jason was ill. Remember, that’s why I decided to trade off child support for sole legal custody. I can’t risk that again, for either of us.”
“But he has a right to know.”
“I’ll think about it.” That was the most Paige was prepared to commit.
* * *
THEY HAD A quiet dinner together, and Paige decided to leave early the next morning. She’d originally planned to stay three days but was anxious to get back to Jason. The weather forecast was also calling for inclement weather the next day.
After breakfast, Paige packed her small bag and stowed it in the trunk of the Honda. Her father was back in the den, in his favorite chair, Iris at his feet, when she went to say good-bye.
“Hi, Dad.” Paige sank down on one knee in front of her father and rewarded the faithful Iris with a scratch behind her ears.
Her father lowered the paper he’d been reading, then gave her a warm, friendly smile. “Well, hello, young lady.”
Paige placed a hand on his knee. “It’s me. Paige.” She needed to try before she left, just to see if he would remember her at all.
“Paige...” He rolled her name around his tongue. “It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?”
Paige continued to smile, but she withdrew her hand. “Yes, it is.”
“Such a lovely name for a lovely young woman.” He looked vague for a moment. “I’ve always favored it, I think.”
Paige felt the sting of tears, lowered her eyelashes and gave her attention to the dog. There was no reason her father should see her pain. When the mist had cleared, she reached into the pocket of her shirt, pulled out a recent school picture of Jason and held it out to him.
Stephen took the picture and examined it for a minute while Paige tried to distract herself by rubbing Iris’s belly. “What a handsome young man,” Stephen said. He shifted his gaze to Paige. “He resembles you.”
She swallowed the sob that bubbled up in her throat. “This is Jason. He’s my son.”
Stephen pursed his lips and nodded decisively. “Yes. I thought so.” He took one last look at the picture before handing it back. “A very handsome boy, as I said. You should be proud.”
Paige swallowed hard again. “You can keep it if you like.”
Stephen lowered his eyes to the picture once more. A smile spread across his face. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”
With a herculean effort, Paige held back her tears. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink, maybe, before I go?”
“How sweet of you to ask.” He glanced at his watch, studied it for a moment while his mouth worked, then looked up again. “It should be time for my walk soon, but a cup of tea would be very nice.”
“I’ll get it for you.” Paige rose. On impulse, she leaned forward and gave her father a hug. He responded to her affection by wrapping one arm around her back, his head just above her shoulder, his mouth near her ear.
Because of the proximity, Paige caught his softly whispered words. “You’re my darling girl, Paige.