A Family for Christmas (8 page)

M
aggie put the last pot in the dish drainer and dried her hands on the kitchen towel. Arching her back to get the kinks out, she turned and surveyed the room. Everything was cleaned and spotless. She smiled when she looked at the clock. There were about ten or fifteen minutes left of the evening before she had to start the bedtime ritual of baths, pajamas and goodnight prayers. She was getting better at this!

“Hey, guys, how about a story?” Maggie asked as she walked around the half wall that separated the family room from the kitchen.

Daniel beamed a smile at Maggie as he ran to get the
Bible Storybook.
Rachel climbed up next to her as Grace came over to the sofa, a scowl on her little cherub face. “Lauk up dare,” she said, and put her head back to stare up at the high ceiling.

Maggie looked, too. There was nothing up there.
“The spider's all gone. Uncle Trent killed it. Remember?”

“No! Lauk up dare!” she demanded, temper showing in her now-red face. This time, Grace pointed to her nose as she tipped her head back.

“Are you saying
chalk? Chalk
up there?” she asked.

Unfortunately Grace nodded vigorously, her bright curls bobbing. “Waaay up dare.”

Maggie looked up Grace's tiny nose, and sure enough there was a white nub of chalk blocking her left nostril. “Well, it certainly is chalk. I guess I'd better help you get it out of there.”

Grace nodded energetically again, and try Maggie did. She tried everything she could think of. And Grace was as cooperative as a squirmy two-year-old could be. But the chalk remained firmly lodged. Stymied, Maggie called the children's pediatrician, who suggested a quick, simple trip to the Emergency Room. Maggie sighed. She knew that a trip anywhere with three children was anything but quick or simple.

It took twenty minutes to pack up everything they'd need, scribble a note to Trent and get the three children into the van. Another fifteen went by before she reached her mother's, where she left Rachel and Daniel for the night in the care of Ester and Nancy. Then she had to backtrack to Paoli Memorial.

When Maggie pulled the van up to the ER entrance, Grace took one look at the big scary place and balked. But Maggie prevailed, and soon they were in a treatment room.

After a quick look, the doctor said that even though
it was no more than an inconvenience, the chalk had to come out. But Grace had exceeded her two-year-old's limit of patience with Maggie's probing back at the house. The staff was forced to strap her into a papoose board to immobilize her. That was when she proved the old adage about temper and red hair. It took two additional interns to hold her still enough for the doctor to work on the recalcitrant chalk.

“Mrs. Osborne, this just isn't working,” Doctor Bums told Maggie as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “For right now, why don't we let her get quiet with you. Maybe you can help her relax.”

Maggie turned toward the sound of hurried footsteps striding toward them. It was Trent, looking worried and fierce. “What's going on?” he demanded. “I could hear her screaming from the parking lot.”

“Mr. Osborne, I'm Dr. Burns,” the doctor said. The men shook hands, but Trent didn't lose the scowl. The doctor chuckled. “Calm down, Dad. We really aren't into torture here. Grace shoved chalk up her nose and we're having a rough time extracting it. Mostly because your daughter's stronger than she looks.” He grinned. “The kid has a good set of lungs, too! My ears are ringing.” Maggie saw Trent take a mental step backward at - the doctor's assumption that he was Grace's father. But then he blinked and looked over at Grace. “Uncle Twent,” Grace sobbed. “Like my lauk. Take Gwace home now!”

Trent looked back to the doctor. “I'm guessing that's not an option.”

The doctor shook his head. “I was just about to
tell Mom that it's got to come out of there. I've got one more shot at it with a hooked forceps that I just sent for. If that doesn't work, I'm going to have to send her up to surgery. I don't think there's much of a danger of her aspirating it, but it still has to come out”

Trent stepped next to the narrow bed. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, the doctor has to get it out of there.”

Just then, one of the interns came back with the forceps he'd gone after. Grace took one look at him and started screaming again. Trent jumped away from the bed in shock. The intern fished a ball of sterile cotton out of his pocket, and, with humor twinkling in his eyes, handed it to Trent. “Here, try this. It really helps. And while you're at it, would you help hold her still?”

Trent looked from the cotton to Grace and back at the intern. “I'll take the noisy end. It only seems fair,” he said, and grinned as he muffled her caterwauling with the cotton. “Geez, kid. You've got a big mouth,” he told Grace as he stepped to the head of the gurney.

Grace miraculously stopped her screaming to stare up at Trent. “Go home?”

“
After
the chalk is out. If you hold still, it won't take long at all.” He cradled her head in the palm of one hand and cupped her forehead with the other. “These guys are just trying to help you, sweetheart. Let's see how still you can be.”

Grace apparently took Trent at his word, because even though she started shouting her indignation again, she didn't move a muscle. And not a minute
later the chalk pulled free with the use of the new instrument.

Dr. Burns, whose son was born the same day as Grace, begged her not to be mad at him. Grace, with her newly found stubborn streak, folded her now-free, pudgy little arms and scowled. But then her sunny disposition shone through, and she gave wet baby kisses to all those she'd been terrorizing since her arrival. Trent scooped her up, and they followed Dr. Burns out of the examination room.

“You were great with her,” Maggie ventured.

“He thought I was her father,” Trent said, as Grace nestled her head against his throat. Maggie could see the confusion tinged with awe in his expression as he spoke of the doctor's misconception. Why couldn't Trent see what others did? That he loved Grace and the rest of the children as if they were his own. Again, Maggie wondered if fear, more than an abhorrence of adoption, had made him so stubborn on the subject.

She patted his shoulder. “You'll see, Trent. Pretty soon you'll find yourself believing it, too.”

He sighed and dropped his cheek against Grace's silky curls. “I hope so, Mag. I sure hope so.”

“Why do you doubt it?” she asked, as they stopped at the front desk and signed the release forms.

When they moved on, Trent picked up the conversation. “Maybe because I'm just not good with them. I didn't do very well with Mickey tonight. He pretended to be tired and asked me to leave.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes and stared in disbelief at Trent as she held the outside door open for him. “I told you that Mickey did essentially the same thing
to Nancy and me. It's no reflection on you. He's troubled right now. That's all there is to it.”

“After I left him, I talked to his doctor about a counselor. I hope Mickey'll talk to whomever it is. I'm afraid he won't get better with this miserable attitude of his. I tell you, Mag, I wish I could crawl inside that kid's head so I'd know what's going on in there.”

“I thought exactly the same thing,” Maggie confided.

Trent ran his hand through his hair. She could almost see the wheels of his mind turning. “I'm sure he believed me when I first told him why he couldn't feel his legs. He understood that it would probably be a temporary problem. But now that he's starting to get feeling back, he's acting as if we're all lying to him.”

Maggie nodded, equally concerned. But she mentally put Mickey on another shelf in her mind. She'd ponder his attitude later. Right now she needed to deal with Trent and his. She could hear the frustrated love in his voice. She had to find a way to get him to not only accept his role in the lives of the children but to believe he could be what they needed.

Maggie unlocked the van, while Trent carefully placed Grace in her car seat. While he was occupied with buckles and snaps, Maggie cast her eyes heavenward. Her faith was new and she often forgot to pray, but whenever she remembered, life's problems miraculously became easier to handle.

Please, Lord,
she prayed silently,
help me show him. Help me help him—help both of them.

The answer came like a thunderbolt from above. She'd never been comfortable with Trent's idea of Mickey seeing a psychologist, and now she knew why! Mickey needed
their
help, not the help of a stranger. And Trent needed to be the one to help him. It was so clear that she felt foolish not to have thought of it sooner. Then she remembered her prayer and felt once again the utter peace her faith brought her. Her Lord really
was
in charge of everything.

“I'm still not sure Mickey needs a professional,” Maggie told Trent, as she pulled on her sweater. “I think he needs you. Why not go see him tomorrow? Maybe the more time you spend with him, the better he'll get. Don't let him chase you away again. Tell him to take his nap and that you'll be there when he wakes up.”

Trent stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don't see why you think
I
can help.”

Maggie shrugged and climbed into the van. “Because Mickey and your brother were very close, Trent, and I was there when you used to call him in Florida. I think you make him feel closer to Michael”

“Maggie, didn't you hear a word I said? I completely bombed with the kid. He sent me packing.”

“Who's the adult here?” Maggie asked. “He can't really make you leave his room. You just stick to him like glue. Don't leave. Wear him down. Sooner or later, I bet he'll tell you what's eating at him. Then we'll ask someone who knows more than we do about kids how to handle whatever it is.”

“Maybe you could do that. You're better with them than I am.”

“Better?” Maggie shook her head. “How am I better? It seems to me that it was you who made order out of chaos at breakfast this morning. I was the one who let Grace get hold of that chalk. And let us not forget Bobo the skunk!”

“Kids get in all kinds of trouble. Do you have any idea how many hours Mike spent in that ER? I'm surprised they didn't know the Osborne name in there.”

“Exactly my point,” Maggie said, feeling and sounding just a touch triumphant. “You need to give yourself and these children a chance before you write off them or you. Go to see Mickey again tomorrow. Give it a chance.”

Trent pursed his lips and stared at the ground for a long few seconds, then nodded. “Okay, I'll try. But don't be surprised if I make a mess of it.”

Maggie smiled, relieved. “Just give it a shot That's all any of us can do in life. Listen, why don't you leave your car here, and we'll pick it up on our way back from church tomorrow? Then you can go on to see Mickey from here.”

“Church? Maggie, I don't think so. I'm trying as hard as I can to do what I'm supposed to do, but church just isn't for me. I know Mike was really into this religion stuff, but I don't need that sort of thing the way he did.” Trent took a step backward and Maggie had to restrain herself from reaching out to him. Instead, she wrapped the fingers of one hand
around the steering wheel and turned the key in the ignition with the other.

She was oh-so-tempted to tell him just how very much he did need it. He clearly didn't understand what she and Mike and Sarah had found at The Tabernacle—with their acceptance of Jesus Christ as their savior.
But he will,
she promised herself. She'd follow the advice Pastor Jim had given to the congregation when he talked about marriages where only one of the couple was a believer. She'd show Trent quietly by example what he could have if he just reached out for it. She wouldn't hound. She wouldn't lecture. She would just live her life and be the Lord's messenger with her witness.

“Okay. You don't want to go to church with us,” she said, then realized that she wasn't ready to say good-night only to face the lonely ride home. “Suppose I drop you off here on our way to church in the morning? I'd appreciate the company on the ride home.”

Maggie could see the wariness suddenly engulf Trent's eyes. It hurt, but she forced herself not to react.

“I don't think that's a good idea. It would probably wind up towed by morning. I'll follow you, and carry Grace inside.for you,” he promised.

Nodding, she bit back any further plea as he closed the door to the van. Finishing the race was all that mattered, she told herself as she watched him walk to his car. As long as Trent eventually came to trust her and want to be with her again, it didn't matter how long it took.

Even so, her heart was heavy some minutes later when Trent put Grace on her bed, then turned and left with only a good-night nod.

“Why didn't Uncle Trent come to church?” Rachel demanded as she climbed down out of the van into the church parking lot the next morning.

Maggie worded her answer carefully. She couldn't lie, nor could she tell Rachel that Trent didn't see the point in going to church. “He went to see Mickey this morning.”

“Is Mickey coming home soon?” Daniel wanted to know.

“He'll be home as soon as he's strong enough,” Maggie said.

“I'm going to pray that he'll be strong real soon, Aunt Maggie,” Rachel said.

“Me, too!” Daniel echoed.

“Too!” Grace added, as they all approached the front door of the church.

“This is an enthusiastic group if I ever saw one,” The Tabernacle's pastor exclaimed.

In his mid-thirties, Jim Dillon was tall, handsome and single. He was also the complete antithesis of what most people expected of the pastor of a large suburban church. Today, he wore a plaid dress shirt, black jeans and no tie—never a tie. He was a simple man with simple tastes. He still lived in a tiny apartment attached to the converted barn that made up the sanctuary and Sunday School rooms, and was thoroughly devoted to his parishioners. Many of the older women were forever trying to fix him up with their
young relatives and acquaintances, but he always politely refused.