Part VI

Ed felt the thump of his heart beneath his winter coat as he pushed the door to Dr. Monroe's office open. The bells tied to the door announced his arrival, and he flushed at that. At the moment, he didn't feel noble or particularly giving; he just wanted to speak with the doctor and leave with the knowledge he'd accomplished what he'd set out to do.

"May I help you?" a lady who looked like the school librarian asked from behind the counter. She adjusted her glasses when she saw that he was carrying a hefty garbage bag.

"Yes," Ed said, hoping she would notice his ironed shirt and not the torn hole at his knee, "I'd like to speak with Dr. Monroe please."

"Oh, I'm sorry, hon," she said, going false sugar on him, "Doctor has seen his last patient of the day and will be leaving shortly to attend a Christmas party with his wife. Would you like to schedule an appointment with him for another time? "

"No thank you, ma'am," Ed said, "It's important for me to speak with him today. It won't take much time."

"As I said," the receptionist began, her voice raising three octaves.

"Margaret," a baritone voice broke in from behind the files, "please have him come back. It seems like this young man has something he needs to bring to my attention."

So relieved he could cry, Ed worked hard to compose myself and offered a polite smile soon as Dr. Monroe appeared in his white coat. Narrowing his eyes in recognition, Dr. Monroe pressed his lips together and said, "You're one of David Thornton's brood, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Ed said, trying to position the black bag in front of the tear in his pant leg.

"Why don't you come back to my office so we can talk?" the doctor asked much to Ed's relief.

Once the heavy door was closed, Dr. Monroe invited the boy to sit, and he took the chair opposite him to put him more at ease.

"What can I help you with?" the kindly doctor asked, clasping his hands together.

Ed tried not to gulp, but when he started speaking, his voice sounded unlike his own. "I'm here to ask if there's any way you can see my mother. She's ill. I don't know what's wrong, but her hands tremor for no reason, and she has a hard time opening things like jelly jars. We don't have a lot left over for doctor's appointments, and my mother wouldn't spend the money on herself anyway." He paused long enough to notice Dr. Monroe nodding empathetically. "My sister and I gathered some things we'd like to exchange for doctor's appointments." He winced a little, thinking of Mr. Rabbit inside and wishing he'd tossed him over an embankment. "If you know of anyone who'd like to buy any of this, it would help us greatly, sir."

Dr. Monroe removed his spectacles and placed them on the oak desk. "How considerate of you children," he said before going on. "I'll tell you what. You take these belongings home and I'll ask your mother to come in free of charge."

Ed shook his head, "I'm afraid that if she comes in for a visit and hears something bad, she won't come back. That's why my sister and I wanted to bring this bag. We wanted to see how many visits you can offer her. If they're already paid for, she'll have a harder time refusing them."

Dr. Monroe tilted his head to the right and said, "If I accept your offer, it's important for me to tell you that as much as I try to help your mother through whatever illness she might be facing, I can't necessarily make her better."

The good doctor didn't tell the boy that he was well aware of his mother's suffering; his wife, who stood in the front row of the church choir, had told him about two occasions where Mrs. Thornton clumsily dropped her keys and couldn't stop shaking afterward. If her central nervous system was impaired as he feared, he might be able to help ease her discomfort, but he couldn't hand her a cure.

"As long as you try," Ed said, "that's all I can ask. That, and is there any way to invite her in for an appointment without telling her I came to see you?"

Dr. Monroe mulled this over. He didn't want to put his wife in an awkward position, but he knew she would be willing to discuss the need with Mrs. Thornton if she knew that meant the boy's honorable deed was protected.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he said confidently. He extended his hand so he could take the sack from the boy and said, "Thank you for this, son. I'll do my best to exchange these items for you. A wonderful thing for you to do." He wondered if any of his children would be inclined to do the same were he or his wife ever in such need. "Merry Christmas to your family," he said, extending a hand to Ed. He meant it from the bottom of his heart. *********************************************************************

Christmas Season 2010

The sky had all but lost its color when she drove up in a car, not her own, and stood on the front porch to knock. While waiting, she raised her eyes to the simple white lights strung along the rooftop that her father hung several weeks before.

Though his hearing wasn't what it once was, Nicole knew the doorbell would stir him from his snooze on the sofa and that within moments, he'd peak his head out the front door to see who needed something.

It wasn't until he was fiddling with the lock, that Nicole felt her chest tighten into tin. She did her best to maintain her resolve and her pleasant expression.

"Hello Grumps," she said, soon as the door stood open to her.

Relieved it was someone he recognized, the elderly man hung back in his flannel robe and slippers and ushered her in with a simple gesture. "You startled me," he said, matter of fact "not many visitors this time of night."

Nicole nodded once and said, "I should have come earlier."

In truth, it had taken her all day, from the beginning when her car teetered off the embankment to now, when she'd locked up the salon and driven home in her father's car, to decide what she was going to do.

"I wanted to apologize," she told Grumps, "about that senseless comment I made at dinner last night."

Before she could say another word, Grumps threw up a hand to stop her, forcing her words to a halt.

Her mother warned her about this, said that he would hear the apology and accept it, but that he'd likely wave it off, dismiss it as if she hadn't a thing to say she was sorry for.

Her grandfather was never one to linger over emotionally charged conversations.

But now that she'd said her piece, Nicole waited in the living room still decked out in her winter coat, her white scarf, and her black boots, these ones a more practical rendition than to what she'd worn earlier. "Why don't you come in for awhile?" he asked. "There's plenty in the fridge if you're hungry."

Glancing at her surroundings, she noticed artifacts that belonged in her grandparents' house while they still lived near Seattle. He'd done his best to recreate this little place when he'd moved over the mountains with them. The cuckoo clock waited in the corner, the crystal candy bowl sat on the coffee table, and her grandmother's framed photograph stood atop the piano once played by her great-grandmother Helen.

"Has your father ever told you how much you look like her?" her grandfather asked, lifting the frame and smoothing the dust away so he could see Helen as she'd once been. She'd lived until his 20th birthday, overseen by the generous doctor he'd visited that Christmas when he was still a boy.

The winter she'd passed, she'd clutched him by the sleeve and drawn him toward her face. "Thank you for making arrangements with Dr. Monroe for me, Edward" she whispered.

He'd leaned back on the bed and folded his arms across his chest. "What are you talking about, Mother?"

She'd thrown him a knowing smile. "I'm your Mother. I realized in due time when things started missing from around the house, a cookbook here, your baseball mitt there."

Ed straightened his collar and said, "Evelyn told you, didn't she?"

His mother had simply closed her eyes and said, "It's the most gracious thing you and your sister have ever done. God bless you for it."

Once her grandfather set the photograph down, Nicole could see he was a bit misty around the eyes. "How would you like something to eat?" He asked, turning to her. "You'll have to mind the mess. There are some crates for the food bank that I haven't taken down yet."

Nicole stepped over the boxes full of canned goods her grandfather so generously planned to donate and was about to ask what she might give herself when she glanced at the memo on the frig listing their current needs: fresh produce, canned soup, potatoes, fruit.

She beamed, knowing exactly what her secret contribution would be this year. They might be overlooked, those orange orbs that filled out the toe of children's stockings on Christmas morn, but for once Nicole knew better than to snub them. She finally realized the generosity they represented, and how for some, they were more precious than the finest of gold.