With Christmas in His Heart. Gail Gaymer Martin
like to go to church tomorrow,” Ella said. “It’s difficult, but I have the wheelchair. Would you like to go?”
“Church?” She stood in the middle of the room and looked out the wide front window and across the porch to the splotches of white and tried to envision what good a wheelchair would do in the snow. “But how—”
“Will can handle it. We’ll get a taxi. It’s just a short ride down Fort Hill.”
Christine stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Will again. “Is it worth the trouble, Grandma?”
“Worth it? What has more worth than spending time with the Lord?”
She closed her mouth before she put her foot in it again. “I meant it’s so difficult for you.”
“My therapist said I should try to get out. I’ve been too embarrassed to have anyone see me so useless. My face is drooping. I can see that in the mirror.”
Christine knelt beside her grandmother. “You’re not useless. I’m sorry I said anything. I—”
Her grandmother patted her arm with a weak hand. “You didn’t make me feel that way, Christine. I’m just…” She paused and looked at her unaccommodating fingers. “Did I ever tell you about when I was a girl?”
Christine figured she’d heard every youthful tale of her grandmother’s, but she’d already hurt her feelings enough. “I don’t know, Grandma.”
Ella gave her a tender look and leaned back in her chair. “When I was a girl, my mother sent all of us to Bible school during the summer. It was like a summer camp but at the church. We learned so much about compassion and giving to others. We memorized Bible verses. One of my favorites was that whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus. Even as a girl, I realized that our deeds reflect our faith.”
Christine recalled thinking that same thing earlier that day, and she wondered if the Lord was pounding a lesson into her head. “I know, Grandma, but—”
“No buts. We had a project one year at the Bible camp. We visited a hospital to bring little gifts we made to some of the elderly patients. I saw a woman there unable to use her limbs. At the time I didn’t know anything about strokes, but I’m sure that’s what it was. She couldn’t speak well, either. That very day I promised the Lord I would always be kind to people in need. So being useless myself makes it doubly hard because of the promise I made to God.”
How could she argue with her grandmother’s way of looking at her vow. Christine figured God was the one who had allowed her grandmother to have a stroke. He knew she couldn’t continue to be helpful, so He’d have to forgive her breaking her vow. But she couldn’t verbalize that to her grandmother.
“Then, I think, it’s most important that you get better. Right, Grandma?”
“Right,” she said, a gentle look in her eyes. “And that’s why I want to go to church.”
“Then you and I will go to church,” Christine said.
“You and me and Will.”
Christine managed to smile. “You and me and Will.”
Chapter Three
“There, that wasn’t so bad.” Will stomped the snow from his shoes on the porch mat. Today when he’d awakened, he was surprised to see a heavy snow had fallen while he’d slept, leaving the island shrouded in white.
He wheeled Grandma Ella through the front door to the middle of the foyer. “Let me take your coat.”
“I can get her coat,” Christine said, bustling toward him.
He shrugged. “It’s all yours.” He tried to figure out the big deal. Either one of them could help her. It wasn’t like a jump ball in a basketball game.
Christine hung her grandmother’s coat in the foyer closet, then hung up her own and closed the door without a glance his way.
Will shook his head and passed her, removed his wet shoes and left them by the living room archway, not wanting to dirty Ella’s carpet. He headed across the carpet, shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a chair, then settled on the sofa.
Yesterday’s newspaper lay on the floor. Will lifted it to his lap and swung his feet around to spread out on the cushions. Though he tried to focus on the first page, his attention had shifted over the top of the paper toward the foyer.
Christine came through the doorway pushing Ella’s wheelchair. He really wished Grandma Ella would get out of the thing. She needed to get her legs working and strengthen the muscles. That would alleviate her unsteadiness. He’d encouraged her to use the walker, but she said she felt like an old lady.
Christine turned his way, and her expression let him know she wasn’t pleased to see him sprawling on the sofa.
Will dropped the paper onto the floor and swung his feet to the carpet. “Sorry. Usually on Sundays, I keep Grandma Ella company for a while. Am I taking up too much space?”
A pink tinge lit Christine’s cheeks. “No.” She sank onto the chair with a sigh. “Not at all.”
“What’s wrong, dear?” her grandmother asked.
“Nothing.”
“You look unhappy.”
“Really. I’m fine.”
A look of uneasiness filled her face, and she gave Will a smile that looked a little forced to him.
She studied her fingernails for a moment. “I need to go into town. I should have thought of it while we were there for church. I noticed at breakfast we need a few things from the grocery store.”
Will glanced at his watch. “It’s Sunday. The store’s just about to open. I’ll take you,” he said. “I need to drop by the studio anyway and pick up some paperwork I forgot to bring home.”
“You have a tandem bike, or am I supposed to ride with you on the horse?” As the words left her, she concocted another grin.
The look on her face made him laugh. “No, but that’s a good idea. Daisy would love to go for a good run this morning. She leaves for the mainland tomorrow.”
Christine looked surprised “Leaves?”
He loved to confound her. “Once the heavy snow begins, Daisy is stabled at a farm on the mainland. Only the horses used for taxis and drays stick around here for the winter.”
Christine gave him a look. “The horses are smarter than people, I think.”
He chuckled, but he got her point. He jumped up and headed for the doorway. “We’ll take my sled…or you can ride your grandmother’s.”
“Sled?”
He laughed aloud this time. “Snowmobile.”
“You want me to drive myself? I don’t know a thing about snowmobiles.”
“One day I’ll give you a lesson then.”
“Yes,” Grandma Ella said, “that’s a good idea.”
Christine held up her hand in protest. “I’m leaving next week. Save the lesson for my mom.” She chuckled.
Will enjoyed her unexpected good humor and wished he could always see that side. “You can ride with me. I’d like you to see my studio anyway.”
“You’ll enjoy seeing the shop,” her grandmother agreed.
She paused a moment, then said, “Okay.”
Will glanced back to make sure he had heard her correctly. No argument?
“Who can I call to stay with you, Grandma Summers?” Christine asked.
Her grandmother waved her away.