The Gift in the Attic (Story)

She always listened to Perry Como while making Christmas cookies. When the children were little and she still used the old records she had saved from when she was a little girl, they would all sing together while they made the cookies. When the children were teenagers she graduated from record player to a CD player complete with a repeat button. Once when she was making cherry nut blossoms and listening to “Christmas Eve,” for the twelfth time in a row, her children descended down the stairs and proclaimed that if they heard one more “crummy note from the crooner” they would promptly run away from home. She had smiled, told them to remember their jackets and turned up the music.

Emily Gray smiled at the funny memory and glanced over to a picture of all three grown up children taped to the refrigerator. The loud clang from the tomato shaped timer shook her from her thoughts and she quickly grabbed the hot pad opening the oven, took a sheet of gingerbread men out and slid the newly shaped sugar cookies in. Before she shut it, she brushed her hands together over the opening to feel the heat. Elizabeth had always done that as a child. That child was born cold. With a sigh, she looked over at the two miniature aprons hung on hooks by the kitchen door, made out of the same candy cane material hers was. They were a gift from her mother, the year the girls were eight and six. She reached toward the pocket on her own apron and fingered the worn hand-stitched “Emily.” On the two smaller aprons, the names “Annie” and “Elizabeth” were more intact, having been retired to the place of honor on the hooks years ago. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t hear Bob come in, stamping his snow crusted boots on the mat by the door.
“Emily? Honey?” he called.
“In the kitchen,” she called back, and he walked in rubbing his hands together. Emily turned towards him and smiled. His dark black hair was almost completely frosted over with a storm-colored gray. His skin was dark and leathery and his big hands calloused from the land he had worked for over thirty-seven years. He had gained some weight over the last few years, and his hair was beginning to thin up top and Emily still thought he was the handsomest man she had ever seen.
“Hey Stranger,” she said smiling.
“Hey Beautiful,” he replied came towards her and wrapped his arms around her and she rested in his embrace for a moment. Bob was about a foot taller than she was and she loved being enveloped in his embrace. She buried her face in his sweater which smelled of pine and snow—she always loved the way he smelled when he came in from the Christmas tree farm. “Did you sell a lot of trees today?” she asked, turning her attention back to her cookies.
“Quite a few actually,” he replied, smiling. “I’m glad we’re doing this Em, it sure helps to bring in the extra cash before the crop is planted.”
“I’m glad we did too,” she replied, remembering back to Bob’s initial dislike of the idea of growing their own Christmas trees and selling them. “I wanted to get out there today, but I had too much to do with the kids coming.”

“Have you heard from the kids yet?” Bob asked, giving her a puppy-dog face as he looked longingly at a pile of jam-filled shortbreads. Emily rolled her eyes and nodded. He smiled and took one off the top.

“Troy called about an hour ago on his cell,” she began, answering his question. They got a late start because Liesl had to finish up some last minute work and then go pick up Hannah from daycare. They should be here in about two more hours. Elizabeth and Eric’s plane gets in about six and Jenna Reynolds—you know, Lizzie’s friend from high school—volunteered to go pick them up at the airport. I figured I better let them have their time now, so I’m not fighting for her attention the whole holiday. Lizzie just got the wedding pictures back so who knows how long that’s going to take.” She paused for a moment and took another pan of cookies out of the stove.
“And Michael and the kids?” Bob asked.
Emily began to busily frost the gingerbread men. “He’ll be here in about a half hour. I talked to Livvy on the phone. Did you know won the first grade essay contest at her school? She’s bringing it with her. She was so excited I could hardly get a word in. And Merry was so adorable. She said to me, ‘Dranma, I tan’t wait to tome to yous house.’ I can’t wait to see them all. I wonder if Troy found out anything about the promotion. Do you think Liesl will quit her job if he gets it? I’m sure the daycare they got is a good one, but Hannah really needs her mother. We have to remember while Eric’s here that he’s allergic to milk. I picked up some soy milk at the grocery store this morning. Oh, I can’t wait to show Annie my new.…”

She stopped suddenly, realizing what she had just said. The gingerbread cookie slipped out of her hands and landed on the floor. “Bob,” she whispered and in two steps he was to her, covering her shoulders with his big hands.
“It’s alright Emmy,” he said. “It’s going to be alright.”
Emily covered her mouth with her hands for a moment and then turned to look at her husband. “I forgot,” she said simply, and he gathered her into his arms. “Why does he have to come here? Why did we invite him?” she whispered, tears burning in her eyes.
“Because those are our grandchildren and he’s their father. Because they need to know that we still love them,” he replied.

Emily backed away from him, her features determined and resolute. “I can’t do it Bob. I can’t watch that girl hold my baby’s babies and treat them as if they were her own. I can’t have her be in this house, watching her kiss Michael and do all of the things that Annie can never do now. I just can’t do it.”
Bob moved in closer to her, “Emily, they’ll be here soon, we can’t just turn them away. Besides—it’s been over a year.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Bob? Is there some kind of time limit on how long you can grieve for your child?” She turned away and began rolling out the next mound of dough, “Obviously, there’s a time limit on how long you’re supposed to grieve for your wife,” she remarked bitterly.

Bob stepped closer to her and turned her to face him, “Emily, we have to accept this woman. They’re getting married in three weeks. We need to do it for the children. We need to do it for Michael. And wherever she is, we need to do it for Annie,”
Angrily, she started to pound the mound of dough with the rolling pin and then after a minute turned back towards him, “You know what,” she said, “Don’t start on the after-life stuff with me Bob. Your daughter dies and all of a sudden you go back to a church you haven’t been to in thirty years and everything is all right now because you know that Annie is up there somewhere on the nearest cloud wearing a white nightgown, playing a harp and waiting for a bell to ring so she can get her wings.”

“Emily,” Bob began more firmly. “Jamie is a wonderful young woman. She will make Michael very happy. She helped him a lot after Annie died. She’s going to make a wonderful wife and mother. She is going to be the only mother that Merry will ever know.”
At that, Emily slammed the rolling pin down as she turned back around and it clattered to the floor. “Don’t you say that to me! Don’t you ever say that to me again,” she yelled. “That girl did not lie in the hospital for twenty-eight hours giving birth to that sweet baby. I didn’t play gin rummy with that girl in between the contractions and let her squeeze my hand when the pain got bad. I didn’t teach that girl how to nurse, or change diapers, or bathe those beautiful girls. That girl didn’t sew matching dresses on Christmas and Easter or rock them to sleep, or stay up all night with them when they were sick. That was my daughter! It doesn’t matter if Michael wants to marry the first girl he sees—that doesn’t make her their mother. Annie is their mother! My daughter is their mother!” The tears burned down her cheeks and as Bob moved towards her she jerked away from him and started out of the kitchen.
“She was my daughter too Emily,” Bob whispered and Emily paused for only a moment before running up the stairs.

When she reached her room, Emily slammed the door to drive her point home. “What’s the matter with this family?” she said out loud as she started pacing the floor trying to calm down. It had only been a year—just last Thanksgiving and it seemed to her that everyone was just trying to forget Annie had ever existed. Bob had his stupid religion, Lizzie and Troy never talked about Annie anymore, and Michael, Annie’s husband?—he was going to get married to the secretary of his grief therapy counselor.

Aneurysm—a word Emily had never heard except when she heard how an old person had died. Now, that word would haunt her for the rest of her life. That word described that horrible night when she had been watching her beautiful daughter sing at the community Thanksgiving concert, and less than a half hour later had been riding with her in the ambulance, watching with horror as the ambulance men worked over her so fast she couldn’t see their hands. In her mind she would never be free of Michael’s face, so terrified, so vulnerable. She would never be free of the gut wrenching sob he had cried out when the doctor came out from the room to tell them she was gone.

She picked up the framed picture of Annie that rested on her nightstand and laid down on the bed. She slipped underneath her blankets—the same quilts that had been lying on her bed when Annie used to come and get underneath them early in the morning after Bob and Troy had gone out to do the morning chores. She brushed a finger over her daughter’s smiling face, and then kissed the photograph on the forehead, just like she used to do when Annie was a little girl.
“I won’t forget,” she said quietly. “I won’t forget you.”

The next thing she knew, Bob was shaking her awake. “Emily…Honey, wake up. They’re here. Michael, Jamie and the kids are here.” She looked up at him, and simultaneously tucked the picture further under the covers so he wouldn’t see. She stood up and looking in a mirror, straightened a few loose hairs and walked out of the room.

“Grandma!” Livvy called out as she came down the stairs.
“Hi Sweetheart!” she said as she enveloped the little girl in her arms. It was amazing to her how much Livvy looked like Annie at that age—the same dark hair, the same bewitching blue eyes. As she held the little girl in her arms, she almost had to remind herself that Livvy wasn’t Annie.
“Grandma! When is Aunt Lizzie coming? Did you know I can stand on my head for a whole minute? Does Uncle Troy still have his moustache? My teacher has a moustache too! I can’t wait to read you my essay Grandma! Can I go out and see the Christmas trees?” Livvy began rambling until Michael—dressed in his pin-striped suit and topcoat stepped up and put a hand on her shoulder.

“All right you, we’ll go out and see the Christmas trees as soon as we’re unpacked,” he smiled down at his daughter. He then looked up at Emily and she could tell he was nervous. “How are you, Emily?” he asked with a small smile.
“Oh, I’m fine,” she said, giving him as much of a smile as she could muster. “Where’s Merry?”
“Jamie’s just getting her out of the car now. She dropped Blue Bunny on the way over here and Jamie’s trying to find it underneath everything,” he replied, and for a moment there was an awkward silence between them.

“Here they come!” Bob said, looking out the window. He opened the door, and Jamie walked in holding Merry in her arms. The little girl had tears on her cheeks.
“See Sweetie? Everything’s okay now,” Jamie said to Merry, rubbing her back. Emily’s stomach turned and she closed her eyes and drew in a few deep breaths. It took Merry a few minutes to get oriented to her surroundings, and then she held out her arms for Bob.
“Trandpa!” she called out and Bob took her from Jamie’s arms.
“How’s my girl?” he asked and she answered by giving him a hug around his neck and big kiss. With his free hand, he shook Jamie’s hand. “Welcome to our home,” he said warmly.
She smiled and Emily could see the nervousness on her features. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Gray,” she replied.
Emily watched her as she took her coat and hat off—she was so young! She was twenty-six, but her features made her look she was more like twenty-one. She wasn’t more than 5’4’’ and had a ponytail in her hair. The tears started to burn in her eyes as she watched Michael put his hand on Jamie’s back and lead her over to where she was.

“Merry Christmas Mrs. Gray,” Jamie said extending her hand.
Breathe—just breathe, Emily thought to herself, as she slowly brought her hand up to meet Jamie’s. “Merry Christmas Jamie,” she replied, and then used the standard words she used for everyone who came and stayed with them, “Please, make yourself at…” She stopped, unable to continue. “Please excuse me, I have some cookies in the oven,” she said quickly and then walked out of the room.

She walked back into the kitchen, and madly tried to wipe away the tears as she brought down another bowl and began mixing together ingredients for molasses cookies—Annie’s favorite. She was just about to mix in the eggs when she heard a soft knock on the kitchen door frame. She turned around to see Michael standing there. She looked at him for a moment without saying anything, and then turned back around to her cookies.
“I wish there was something I could say,” he began.
“There isn’t,” she replied, keeping her attentions on her cookies.
“Emily…” he began, and then paused as if trying to select his words carefully, “You and Bob have been part of my family for over seven years. I never wanted to hurt you,”
She leaned over her cookies for a moment, and then turned back around to face him. “Mike, what do you want from me? Do you want my blessing? You want me to say to you that it’s okay?” She threw up her hands in a gesture of defeat. “It’s okay! I don’t really care!” she said and then turned back to her cookies.

Michael walked closer to her and brought out a small package from behind his back. “Emily, I have something for you. I was going to wait until Christmas day but I want you to open it now.”
She walked past him avoiding his eyes. “Mike, I don’t need anything from you,” she said “Just go back in the living room to your girlfriend and we’ll both just try to get past this holiday as quickly as possible.” She crossed the kitchen and started out the door.
“Mom,” Michael called imploringly after her.
At that she turned back to face him, “Don’t call me that,” she whispered as she turned and went up the stairs.

It was about five minutes before she heard a knock at the door. She was surprised that it took that long. Here came Bob the superhero to save the day.
“Come in Bob,” she called and the door opened and he walked inside carrying the parcel Michael had been holding just a few minutes ago.

“Emily, we need to talk,” he said quietly.
She avoided meeting his eyes and began tracing the outlined patterns on her quilt with her finger. “So talk,” she said
Bob sat down at the bed next to her and used a finger to raise her chin so her eyes met his. “Emily, I love you. I’ve always loved you, but there’s some things that need saying and I’m going to say them right now. Do you think you’re the only in pain? Do you think you’re the only one that misses Annie? Emmy, do you know how much it hurts to walk past that old tree house? The one the girls built in the old oak —remember? And there’s a boy downstairs—the boy I gave my daughter to seven years ago. He became a part of this family, and he desperately wants to remain part of this family. He’s found happiness again, and so help me, as much as I miss Anne, I want that for him. What about those two children? Annie’s children. Look in Livvy’s eyes, Hon, she misses her Mama. If Jamie can help fill that void—not take Annie’s place, but fill the void, then—God bless her. Emily, nobody’s forgotten Annie, and nobody ever will—but we have to move on, for the sake of those who are still with us.” He stopped and brought out Michael’s present. “You went out before Michael could tell you about this,”
She looked at it while wiping away the tears. “He didn’t have to get us anything,” she said.
Bob put a hand over hers, “It’s not from Mike Em, it’s from Annie,”
“What?” she whispered.
“Michael discovered them when he was up in the attic finding the Christmas lights. They’re last years presents Emmy, the ones she never got to…” he broke off, and then handed Emily the small package. “This one’s yours,” he said quietly and then walked out of the room.

With trembling hands Emily undid the bow, and opened the paper, careful not to rip it too much.
“Oh Baby,” she whispered quietly as she pulled out a worn copy of a Christmas storybook—the storybook she used to read Annie every year at Christmas time. How had Annie found this? She hadn’t seen a copy of it in years—their own copy had been left in the snow one year and she had found it in the spring completely waterlogged. The book was red, with a manger scene on the front of it. She had always pointed to the figures in the manger scene and explained to Annie who each of them was. She brushed a hand over the baby Jesus.
“See Annie, this is the baby Jesus, God’s son, he came to the world so we could all go back and live with him again someday,” her voice resounded in her head. There was a time when she believed that, but when Annie had died, while Bob had come closer to God, she had turned away from him. She opened the book and tears came to her eyes as she read Annie’s hand-written inscription.
“To my mom, who always taught me the true meaning of Christmas. I love you.” She closed the book and brought it to her,
“O God help me,” she said quietly, “Please help me,”

It was a few minutes later that she walked back downstairs and into the living room. Michael stood up as she entered the room. As she walked closer to him, she smiled warmly and Michael’s eyes began to fill with tears. She hugged him to her, “Thank you Son,” she whispered. She patted his cheek and turned to Jamie who had stood up as well. Emily took Jamie’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, “Jamie, it’s nice to have you with us for Christmas. Thank you for coming.”
Jamie smiled and cupped her other hand over Emily’s. “It’s nice to be here Mrs. Gray. Thank you,”
Emily smiled back at her, “Please call me Emily.” Then she turned around to her grandchildren. “Now, who wants to help Grandma finish the cookies before the rest of the family gets here?” The two girls shouted happily and Emily picked up Merry and swung her around. “Jamie? Would you like to help?” she asked as she turned back around.
“Sure!” Jamie said, and took Livvy’s hand as she followed Emily and Merry into the kitchen.
“Jamie, do you like Perry Como?” Emily asked as they came into the kitchen.
“Are you kidding?” Jamie replied. “I love Perry Como!
Emily chuckled as she turned on the music
“Okay,” she called, “Livvy, get me two eggs out of the refrigerator, Jamie, you start work on frosting the sugar cookies and Merry Honey—you help Grandma stir okay?

Five Minutes (Story)

"Five minutes," the aide says. She can't remember his name. She does have five of them after all.
It starts with a "B" ....He's from Buffalo...Buffalo...Brian...Brian from Buffalo
"Thank you Brian," she nods. She starts to gather her papers and in her mind she hears the whistle from the 6:10 a.m. Amtrak back home in Castleton. She smells green grass and feels it cold and crisp between her toes. She can hear crickets and the churning of the ice cream maker. Suddenly, she realizes just how much she doesn't want to do this.

Someone hands her a compact mirror and she worries that she is shaking on the outside as much as she is on the inside. As she reapplies her lipstick she looks at herself and wonders when it was that Betsy became Elizabeth, the woman who looks back at her now. She certainly doesn't remember that happening, but the pony tail and overalls are gone, replaced by a stylish twist at the nape of her neck and a gray dress suit. Betsy was lost somewhere in the 4.0 grade point average and the summa cum laude she had beside her name when she graduated from law school. Maybe, she thinks, if she turns and runs very fast she can not only go home, but find the girl she used to be. At night she dreams of home. She wakes up with the feel of soft warm dirt between her fingers and smelling the yellow daffodils she and her mother planted every year.

"We're ready to go," Brian says and she straightens her jacket. While she is fastening her briefcase, she is thinking of Windy Acre Farms where the family used to go every year to pick out their pumpkins on Halloween. Brian opens the door for her and with each resounding step of her high heels; another thought of home comes to her. There is the smell of fresh vegetables and the sound of the blue grass band from Saturday mornings at the Farmer's Market. She sees the sun cascading through the stained glass windows casting red and green shadows on the pews at church. She doesn't smell the fresh carpet smell of the building, but instead smells the scent of the saw mill, like a Christmas tree and a cedar chest put together.
"Just a few more minutes mam. I'll get your desk ready," Brian says and she sits on a bench outside the large wooden doors. The noise from inside frightens her.

She closes her eyes, and another memory sweeps her away. She was sixteen years old, and it was at the town celebration at the park. There had been games for the children. Josie Parker was selling her homemade kettle corn. Mr. Allen, the music teacher at the high school, was in a dunk tank and the mayor had on a large red apron and was barbequing hot dogs and hamburgers. It had been a lovely day. They were celebrating the opening of the town's new women's shelter. It was a beautiful building, with a day care and a job service. People had donated time, money, and personal belongings to the shelter and there was a large crowd at its opening. It’s the speech the mayor gave that comes to her mind now.
"When I first was told about the idea of this woman's shelter, I admit I had doubts. I thought, it's too much for our town, we don't have resources, we don't have the money, it's impossible....and then I remembered where I live, and who we are...what we are, as members of this community and I felt I had to apologize to God and to you. I will never doubt that again."

His words replay in her mind and she remembers the thrill she felt when he said them. They had needed a shelter, and so together they had built a shelter. Lost in her thoughts, she accidently knocks her briefcase over with her foot. She bends down to pick up some papers that fell out of the side pocket and sees a paperback book tucked in the back. She takes it out with curiosity. It is a copy of one of her favorite books, The Lord of the Rings, and there is a sticky note attached to one of the pages. She opens it up and there is a highlighted passage on the page.
"I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable; I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again."
She bites her lower lip and then reads the familiar writing on the sticky note.
"Betsy, Frodo had a work to do and so do you. Go to work, knowing you have a firm foothold. Love, Dad."
She places the book against her heart and it is then that she makes the decision. She will be Elizabeth. She will do this for the people at Windy Acre Farms who lost their farm because they couldn't make the mortgage payments. She will do this for the 200 men who were laid-off at the saw mill because of federally mandated budget cuts and for the children who will never have Mr. Allen for a music teacher because music programs were cut at the high school.
The doors open and Brian steps out, “They're about to start Congresswoman. Your desk is all ready for you."
"Thank you Brian," she says and remembering what she is because of where she came from, Congresswoman Elizabeth Walker steps onto the floor of the U.S. House of Representatives.
When they call her name for roll call, she can still hear the sound of the train whistle but she is no longer shaking.