The Christmas Light by Donna VanLiere

Author:Donna VanLiere
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250010667
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

NINE

Gratitude is the heart’s memory.

—FRENCH PROVERB

Gloria called two days earlier wondering if Jen could swing by her home to sew some of the angel costumes. “I’ll be at practice with Miriam but I’ll leave you a key so you can come in. I’ll have pie,” Gloria told her.

“I’d do it without the pie,” Jennifer had said, but looks forward to the treat she rarely has time to make herself.

She watches Avery’s face in the rearview mirror and knows her thoughts are flapping around as if on a mast, her hands twisting in the act of remembering. Jen feels a pang of heartache and a rush of sadness but mostly pride as she looks at Avery. All that is precious to her in this world comes down to the fifty pounds in the backseat.

The house is warm, with the scent of pinecones, as Jennifer opens the door. She has been in Gloria’s home only once, for a Glory’s Place present-wrapping party a few Christmases ago, before Gloria married Marshall. Now, pictures of the two of them together sit on side tables and line the entry walls, along with photos of their blended family of children and grandchildren. “She said there are some toys over there in the corner,” Jen says, pointing into the living room. Avery finds them and reaches for a Barbie in a long purple dress and a pale plastic horse with a mustard-colored mane, as her mother goes upstairs.

Jen walks to the end of the hall, where a third bedroom has been converted to a sewing room. The sewing machine sits in front of the window. A pile of thick, rust-colored fabric sits at the side of it, in line for creation. An ironing board stands against one wall, draped with pieces of flowing gold and silver fabric. A small hanging rack, lined with coat hangers, holds the rest. These are the pieces that are to be sewed into costumes for the angel choir. Her phone rings inside her purse and Jennifer digs for it. “Hello.”

“Mrs. De Luca, this is Marianne with Dr. Plantiga’s office. I got your message regarding your husband.”

Jennifer sits on the chair in front of the sewing machine and feels something swelling inside her throat. “Yes, thank you for calling me back.”

“Is this about insurance claims?” Marianne asks.

“No. Nothing like that. I was just hoping that I could speak with Dr. Plantiga. I’m trying to contact all of the medical personnel who helped my husband.”

The line is quiet on the other end. “Mrs. De Luca, I don’t mean to sound insensitive but I don’t understand. If this isn’t about insurance claims then what—”

Jennifer interrupts her. “I’d like to thank everyone who helped Michael.”

She hears Marianne sigh on the other end of the phone and imagines her smiling. “I understand. I’m sorry for my confusion.” Jen’s eyes fill at the sound of her tone. “It’s just that a call like this is so rare.”

“It’s my fault. I wasn’t clear in my message. For the longest

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