An Endless Christmas, page 7
“And the shop with the olive oils and vinegars.” Allie pulled a four-color brochure from her purse. She unfolded it to reveal a map of downtown Stillwater. “This is the path we usually take, Katie,” she said, pointing in a way that looked as if she were building a Christmas tree from the bottom branches up.
“But one of the traditions we’re busting this year is well-worn paths. So, today will look more like this,” Bella said, reaching over the seat to draw an imaginary labyrinth on the map.
“The inefficiency of that plan,” Elisa said, “makes my teeth hurt. But it’ll be fun.”
The Binder family seemed bulging with tradition. Didn’t that come with an automatic resistance to change? If they hadn’t booted Katie out yet, they probably wouldn’t for her asking. “Busting traditions?”
“A family with no treasured traditions isn’t very interesting,” Allie said, refolding the brochure.
“But a family who holds traditions too tightly,” Deb said, “sets itself up for disappointment. Sometimes the detours turn out better than the original plan.”
“So, for as long as I can remember, we pick a couple of Binder Christmas traditions and turn them upside down each year.” Elisa brushed something from Katie’s shoulder as she talked. “Feather,” she explained. “Down. Your coat’s leaking.”
Katie watched Rhonda leave the store, then stop to talk to someone on the street in front of the store and point as if giving directions.
“I heard Grandpa Wilson singing last night,” Katie said.
“Yeah, that’s one thing we miss out on because we’re sleeping in the barn addition.” Bella sighed.
Allie joined her. “That sweet man sings a verse of ‘Amazing Grace’ to Grandma Dodie every night before they fall asleep. Random verses. Not in any order. So precious. When we’re here, he usually stands in the hall and sings it to all of us.”
Rhonda settled into the driver’s seat again. “Everybody still buckled up?”
Katie heard two clicks from the backseat.
Deb moaned loud enough for the whole van to hear. “The dumplings. One of us is going to have to learn how Grandma Dodie does it, so when she’s gone . . .”
Wasn’t Grandpa Wilson the one with the heart condition? Did they both have a serious medical issue? Maybe Deb projected long into the future. Katie caught herself caring more than she should, considering the soon-to-come conversation that would sever her ties with the whole family, not just Micah.
Something deep within her wanted to believe it could still work out, despite the evidence. The deep place groaned. She should have broken it off months ago to spare them both from the—
While the women chatted and the van made its way to their untraditional starting point, Katie wrestled with the truth she wanted to deny. If Katie got her heart’s desire for Christmas—Micah and his family—then he couldn’t have his—a long, stable marriage.
Rhonda parked the van in a municipal lot facing the river, with a clear view of the famed vertical lift bridge stretching across the St. Croix to Houlton, Wisconsin. She didn’t turn off the engine, but sat, as did the rest of them, staring at the imposing structure.
“We have a vertical lift bridge on Highway 80 in Fort Myers,” Katie said, determined to engage in normal Girls’ Day conversation. “It’s nothing like the size of this one.”
“Kind of Stillwater’s pride and embarrassment at the same time,” Deb said. “How many years did it win ‘Most Dangerous Bridge’ honors?”
“You saw the new bridge they’re perpetually working on about a mile south on your way through town, didn’t you?” Allie waited for Katie’s nod. “The locals are both grateful and heartbroken. Since what—the thirties?—the lift bridge has been a prime connecting point between this part of Minnesota and Wisconsin. In essence the lift bridge has been condemned since 2008. So, good news/bad news. New bridge. And because this vertical lift is on the National Register of Historic Places, it will serve out the remainder of its days as a walking and biking bridge.”
Rhonda piped up. “We’d all be a lot healthier if we walked and biked more. I read an article this week about the effects of sitting on our—”
“Hold it!” Allie said. She stretched her arms spread-eagle.
The van stilled, except for the Christmas music still playing.
“Time out for this song,” Allie said. No one objected.
Rhonda cranked the volume. Katie let the song’s achingly beautiful music and lyrics stir her as the song always did. Hold me together. Forever near me. Pour over me . . . Mary’s song of longing while carrying the Christ-child. By the time the song ended, tears flowed. Katie opened her eyes. She wasn’t alone.
Deb opened her purse to distribute tissues to all in need.
The independence Katie’s parents’ decisions had forced on her served her well most of the time. But it also got in the way when she fought so hard to handle stress or distress on her own. In the past almost twenty-four hours, had she even once cried out “Hold me together!” to the only One who could?
The final notes of the song faded. Rhonda glanced back over her shoulder at her passengers. “Can I turn off the engine now?”
“No!” The entire backseat gave their opinion in unison. It would be three or more minutes before they exited the van, it looked like. The new song—a modern interpretation of what had become a classic in recent years—questioned whether the mother of Jesus realized the full implications of the Babe she carried.
The windows fogged over as six women allowed themselves to feel the eternal weight of the holiday many other people saw as a retailer’s dream or an excuse to overindulge. At this rate, they might never get through their proposed labyrinth route for the day. They soaked in the moment as if settling into the meaning of the celebration rather than its ruckus. If Katie stayed another day, maybe more of it would rub off on her.
Which would net her more guilt—postponing the final breakup when she knew it could never work? Or disturbing their perfect Binder holiday and dragging Micah away from scenes like this because she had an ages-old problem?
She’d stay. Maybe not through the whole week, but at least until after Christmas Day.
KATIE’S TREASURES FROM the tea-and-spice shop weighed practically nothing. The vinegars and oils she’d purchased, however, might take careful packaging and rearranging to keep her luggage from overshooting the fifty-pound limit. She’d probably regret the expenditures, in light of what she owed.
The peach balsamic begged for a chance to dress a salad or marinate pork chops, Micah’s favorite. The basil oil screamed pasta. Her apartment’s toy-sized kitchen and hat-sized grill would get a workout when she got home.
“I wonder if we’ll have time to come back through town at night,” Allie said as they dodged foot traffic on the sidewalks on their way to another destination. “Rock Point Church has a Christmas light show during the winter. The street leading up to the church is lined with lighted trees that turn on and off to Christmas music.”
“Where’s Rhonda?” Deb turned to look behind them. “Tying her boot laces. Slow down, everybody.”
“We could split up and then meet somewhere later,” Katie suggested.
“Tried that once,” Allie said. “Made us miserable not to see the expressions on each others’ faces when we saw something intriguing or found a piece of art that one of us from the other group would have enjoyed.”
Rhonda caught up. The women resumed their pace.
Bella turned and walked backward while she said, “You have to come in summer sometime, Katie.”
Allie tugged Bella out of the way of oncoming foot traffic. Bella dropped back beside Katie.
“The Binder Summer Reunion is amazing too. Tougher for everyone to get off work, but so much fun,” Bella said.
Katie considered the concept of a summer version of the crammed cottage with swimming replacing ice skating and cookouts taking the place of chicken and dumplings.
“Summer in Stillwater. The trolley tours start up again,” Bella said. “The thirteen-passenger bike—a riot.”
“And Micah could take you on a Venetian gondola ride on the river,” Elisa said. “That would be romantic.”
“The surrey rides are romantic too,” Bella added.
“Or,” Rhonda said, “the walking path along the river. You can easily log ten thousand steps a day walking along the river. Or the Stillwater Steps. Now, that’s a workout.” She hopped on one foot and hiked up her pant leg. “See these calf muscles? Stillwater Steps.”
“Aunt Rhonda, she’s not looking for a workout. She’s looking for romance.” She was? Micah already had a gift for creating romantic moments.
“Mom, do you think we’ll have time for the Victorian Christmas at the courthouse today?” Elisa slapped her mittened hands together to match the pleading on her face.
“We’ll see. Grandma Dodie’s stamina just isn’t what it once was.”
“Katie, you would love, love, love that. It’s an 1870 Italianate courthouse. Micah would know all the details better than the tour guide, I bet.”
So his cousins were in awe of his penchant for historical trivia too? Katie wasn’t the only one who saw that in him? “What are you two studying?” she asked, charmed by their lack of pretense and the twin-like synchronization that replaced what could easily have been sibling rivalry.
“Elisa’s English Lit,” Bella said. “I’m ‘Undeclared.’”
“I remember those days,” Katie said. “So many options.”
“The best thing about college so far?” Bella said. “My suite-mates, and this. Christmas break.”
As they exited another must-see shop, Deb and Katie wound up side-by-side at the rear of the pack. Conversation flowed so freely from Allie’s daughters. Deb’s waters ran deep and rarely bubbled to the surface. After a few too-quiet moments, Katie said, “Micah’s dad’s surgery did turn out okay, didn’t it?”
Deb hesitated. She adjusted her purse to her other shoulder. “Yes. He has to go back every six months for retesting. That’s coming up in February. We take one day at a time.”
Katie nodded, but knew she was in the company of people far more expert at that skill than she was.
“I’ll trade you stories,” Deb said.
“What do you mean?”
“You mentioned being an only child since kindergarten. I didn’t realize you’d had a sibling at one time.”
“A sister. She was two years older than me.”
“Oh, Katie.”
“The best medical care. She died anyway. And there I was. The inadequate one.”
Deb put her arm around her. “You can’t think that way.”
The moment passed without comment. Deb was right. Katie had been trying to convince herself of the same thing since she was five years old.
Allie called back, “Let’s aim for LoLo’s and get something to eat. The heavy lunch crowd should have thinned by now.”
“Mom, nobody ‘thins’ at LoLo’s. And the crowd doesn’t either.”
“Good point, Bella,” Rhonda said. “But they do have vegan and gluten-free options and because it’s Christmas Week, I’m having smoked French fries.”
The logic escaped Katie, but she followed the others toward the restaurant where she and Micah had killed time the day before.
The women discussed menu options at LoLo’s while waiting for Rhonda to extricate Grandma Dodie from Darn. Knit. Anyway. Even menu choices stirred laughter among these people Katie might have chosen for friends if they’d met under other circumstances.
She sipped water poured from a glass-stoppered bottle while she studied the appetizer and entrée descriptions. Her decision made, she looked out at a crowd different from yet similar to the one she and Micah had seen through the same window the day before. A sudden rustle of commotion caught her attention. She bolted from her chair and grabbed her coat.
“Someone fell,” Katie called back, heading for the entrance. It didn’t look like Grandma Dodie, but she couldn’t be sure until she got closer.
The crowd around the fallen one parted when Katie mentioned her profession. An older woman—maybe seventy—sat on the sidewalk with her back against the lamppost.
“I stepped off the curb funny, Walter. That’s all. Now help me up. Please.”
“Hi. I’m Katie Vale. I’m a nurse practitioner. Can you tell me what happened? And what hurts? And your name?” Could have handled that more smoothly.
“Patricia Whitfield,” Walter said.
“I know my own name.” Patricia pushed with her hands to lift herself from the sitting position, unsuccessfully. “The young woman wants to check on my faculties, Walter. Let me do the talking.”
“Yes, dear.”
“Anna Whitfield. And all I did was slip on the curb. My knee must have given out again. I’m fine.”
Anna? Her husband said Patricia. Katie automatically performed her traditional visual assessment. Color, respiration rate, use of extremities, pupils. Hmm. She checked for a medical information bracelet. None. “Did you have any sense of dizziness before you fell?”
“Yes, she did.”
“I can answer for myself, Walter.” The look in her eyes told Katie so much. “Just a touch.”
“She’s had this sort of thing happen before.”
“Walter.”
“Hush.” The frail man filled his lungs and said, “I’ll tell the lady what she really needs to hear. Yes, she must have been dizzy. She staggered a little before she slipped.”
“My head’s fine,” Patricia said. “It’s my ankle.”
Knee? Ankle? Katie looked from her crouching position to the bystanders. She caught Deb’s attention and mouthed, “Call 9-1-1.”
Deb nodded and pulled one of the crowd members away from the scene toward the window. Ah. The no-technology week for the Binders. Deb had to borrow someone else’s phone.
“May I remove your boot, Anna?” Katie asked. “I’ll be gentle.” She chose to use the name the woman used. No need to send her into defense mode.
“Anna? No. That’s the character I play in the church pageant. My name’s Patricia.”
Katie slid the woman’s foot out of a boot that wouldn’t be loose much longer. Her ankle had already started to swell. Katie snatched her borrowed knit hat out of her coat pocket and asked Walter to fill it with snow from the small piles left over from the sidewalk shovelers. Katie tucked it around the swollen ankle.
“Can you squeeze my hand, Patricia?” Katie asked, holding the improvised ice pack with her right hand and extending her left.
“Of course I can.” She squeezed.
“How about this one?” Katie picked up Patricia’s left hand. Marked difference. More than could be explained by hand dominance.
“Just let me get up off this cold ground. I’m fine.” The woman’s voice trembled as Walter’s had. “Besides, I have company coming in a few hours. No time for this nonsense.”
Katie put her palm on Patricia’s cool, soft cheek. Cool. Good. “Patricia, don’t you want to be able to enjoy your company without worrying that something more might be going on? We know for sure your ankle needs more attention. And you can’t afford another dizzy spell while you’re taking the ham out of the oven, now can you?”
“We’re having crown roast.” The woman’s pout softened a degree.
“Do you make corn bread stuffing or do you use stale bread?”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re keeping me talking so I don’t notice that siren in the distance. And it’s coming for me, isn’t it?”
Katie adjusted the makeshift ice pack so it put little pressure on the ankle itself. “It’s the wise thing to do, Patricia. Just let the professionals check it all out and send you into your holiday plans with your mind at ease. And Walter’s.”
The woman’s face scrunched. “I have . . . so much . . . to get done.”
“Nothing that won’t wait for you. It might be the year to turn some traditions upside down.”
Patricia’s expression grew stern. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”
Katie smiled up at Walter, who held his wife’s right boot and enormous cobalt blue purse. The siren drew nearer.
“Any allergies, Patricia?”
“Yes. I’m allergic to changes in my plans.” Her sly grin seemed more pronounced on one side than the other.
Katie asked the crowd to make way for the paramedics as the boxy ambulance pulled to a stop a few feet from the action. One of the busiest intersections in Stillwater grew busier as the team took over.
They debriefed Katie about what she’d observed. Another local, one of Walter’s friends, offered to take him to the medical center where the ambulance headed with Patricia safely tucked inside. The crowd resumed its normal Christmas bustle and ambiance. Deb gave Katie a hug and walked her back inside the restaurant.
“Are you all finished?” Katie asked, noting the blank place settings in front of each Binder.
“We waited for you,” Grandma Dodie said. “Praying, mostly. Our poor waiter is going to need a significant tip. He’s been to our table six times refilling our drinks.”
“I’m so sorry to hold you up. I assumed you’d go ahead and order.” She and Deb took the last two chairs at the table.
“Katie, your hands are like icicles,” Deb said. “Here.” She slid a cup of hot tea toward Katie. “Don’t know whose it is, but it’ll do for a hand warmer.”
“Thanks. You never know when a little adventure will strike.” Katie closed her hands around the cup and shrugged her neck deeper into her sweater.
“Jeremy,” Grandma Dodie called out. “Soup! Bring us soup!”
“I guess we’re all having soup,” Elisa said, chuckling, and turning her menu upside down.
“For starters,” Grandma Dodie said. “It appears”—she clasped her hands to her heart and directed her words to Katie—“we’re all going to need our strength these days.”
Deb gave Katie another quick hug. “Proud of you, Katie. You handled that so well.”
“It’s my job,” she said. “Not that exact scene.” She indicated the street now filling with as many people as fresh snowflakes. “I must say, I’ve never had a cold pack source that close before. Whose hat did I borrow? It’s on the way to the clinic right now.”
