Ezekiel, age six.
Marco, age nine.
Patrick, age ten. There’s a Patrick, Margaret thinks. And there’s probably also a Kevin and an Ava, children like her own, children who will now find something beautifully wrapped under the tree.
Margaret has never learned how to properly wrap a present, and so she serves as tape maiden to a wrapper named Nell for the first hour. Then Nell takes mercy on Margaret and gives her a quick wrapping tutorial.
Margaret spends Sunday morning telling Drake how wonderful it felt to actually do some good.
“I wasn’t sitting at a ten-thousand-dollar table eating rubber chicken at a charity benefit,” she says. “It was real. I was wrapping presents for Ezekiel and Marco and Patrick. I think I’m going to find a soup kitchen next.”
“Why don’t you come to the hospital and read to the kids?” Drake says. “I’ll let them know tomorrow, and you can plan to come on Tuesday. I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but you have a lovely speaking voice.”
“Yes!” Margaret says. She can’t believe she never thought of this before! She’ll go to Books of Wonder, buy some Christmas storybooks, and read them to the children on the pediatric oncology ward at Sloan Kettering.
Tuesday is one of the most memorable days of Margaret’s life. She brings four picture books to the children’s cancer ward. Two are Toot & Puddle Christmas books by Holly Hobbie. Toot and Puddle are pigs who live in a place called Woodcock Pocket. Toot is an adventurous pig, and Puddle is a homebody. They are best friends, kind of like Ernie and Bert. Margaret has been a fan of these books since Barrett, her oldest grandson, was small. She loves the art, the quaintness of life at Woodcock Pocket, and the inherent kindness and good judgment displayed by Toot and Puddle.
Margaret has also brought Olivia Helps with Christmas—another pig! This one is female and headstrong. The Olivia books were written and illustrated by Ian Falconer, who is also one of Margaret’s favorite cartoonists for the New Yorker. And the last book is ’Twas the Fright Before Christmas, which is a brilliant amalgam of Halloween and Christmas, told in clever rhyme.
Only five children are well enough to come to story time: Hayden, Christopher, Madison, Jayquan, and Gladys.
Gladys? Margaret thinks. Gladys is five years old. Everything old is new again.
The children seem to like the stories—Fright is the big favorite, no surprise there—and Margaret marvels at how kids act like kids no matter how sick they are. Hayden, Madison, and Jayquan have lost their hair, and Gladys is hooked up to an IV. But they laugh and stand up to get a closer look at the pictures. Christo falls asleep, then wakes up with renewed energy.
After the stories Margaret meets the parents. They all want autographs and photos with Margaret. Jayquan’s mother, Aileen, says that she first saw Margaret reporting on September 11. Aileen was fourteen years old, a freshman at Benjamin Cardozo High School. On that day, Aileen says, Margaret became her hero.
Aileen is now Margaret’s hero. To have a child this sick is one of the greatest burdens a parent can bear. How do these parents do it? How do they endure? How do they keep upbeat, optimistic, smiling? How do they keep from breaking?
They do what they have to do, Margaret supposes. Her children were all healthy, but if one of them had been sick, Margaret would have made the necessary sacrifices. She would have done whatever it took to get her child well again. Margaret hugs Aileen extra tight and gives Aileen her personal e-mail address.
Drake meets Margaret just outside the ward. “Let me take you to dinner,” he says.
“No,” Margaret says. “I want to eat here.”
“Here?” Drake says. “At the hospital?”
Margaret isn’t sure how to explain it. She wants to stay at the hospital until she’s sure that her five new friends are asleep. If she could, she would like to tuck them all in. “Please?” she says.
“Okay,” Drake says. He leads Margaret down to the cafeteria. There is one artificial tree decorated with paper snowflakes, and one rather sad-looking menorah. They walk through the food line listening to piped-in Christmas music—Straight No Chaser singing “The Christmas Can-Can,” which Margaret thinks is catchy. Margaret gets a tuna fish sandwich and a bowl of vegetable soup, and Drake gets the chicken pot pie. They sit down at a table, and Margaret studies the other people eating, many of them with slumped shoulders and hollow eyes.
“How do you do it?” she asks Drake. “How do you keep from getting emotionally involved? How do you keep from falling in love with every single child?”
“It’s difficult,” Drake says. “But then I remind myself that they don’t need me to love them. They need me to be their doctor, to operate, to make them better.”
As Margaret processes this, her phone rings. She checks the display.
“It’s Mitzi,” Margaret tells Drake.
“Answer it,” he says.
But Margaret doesn’t want to answer it. There’s only one reason why Mitzi would be calling now, so late at night. It’s after nine.
Maybe Mitzi just wants gift ideas for the kids, Margaret thinks. That’s feasible.
“Answer it,” Drake says again.
“Hello?” Margaret says.
“Margaret,” Mitzi says. “We’re losing him.”
“No,” Margaret says. She closes her eyes. Lou Rawls sings “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” “No, Mitzi.”
“Dr. Cherith was just here. And Lara, the hospice nurse. They think he only has a couple of days left. He’s not going to make it to Christmas.”
“No,” Margaret says. Her eyes flood with tears. Drake reaches for her hand.
“Can you call the kids and tell them?” Mitzi asks. “Patrick and Ava? Kevin was here just a little while ago, so he knows. But would you call the other two for me, please?”
“I think it should come from you,” Margaret says. “You’re his wife.”
“You’re their mother,” Mitzi says. Margaret hears a familiar hardness in her tone. It’s back to their old territorial war—who is what to whom. “I need you to do this for me, please. Just call and tell them they have two days, three at the most, if they want to see him.”
“Yes, okay,” Margaret says. “I’ll call them. And Drake and I will leave tomorrow night after Drake’s last surgery. We’ll drive through the night if we have to.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Mitzi says, and she hangs up.
Margaret will call Ava first, she decides. Ava can drive up to Nantucket with Margaret and Drake tomorrow night if she wants.
Then Margaret gasps. Austria!
Oh, sweet child, she thinks.
She dials Ava’s number.
KELLEY
Sight gone now in both his eyes. Hearing gone in one ear. He can make noises but no longer speak. He sees his mother, Frances. His brother, Avery. A kid with Popeye biceps and a Southern twang sticks out a hand and says, Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn. I’m Centaur.
Centaur? Kelley says. That’s your name?
The kid vanishes.
Kelley is very tired.
Is it Christmas yet? Kelley wanted to make it to Christmas. But Kelley would also like to be granted permission to let go.
Mitzi’s voice. “George bought the inn, sweetheart. He paid the full listing price. He says we can stay as long as we want. He says he won’t change a thing. He and Mary Rose are going to keep it just like it’s always been. Isn’t that good news?”
George? Kelley thinks. Who is this George person who bought the inn?
Then he thinks: Oh. George. Kelley has some vague protest, but he can’t possibly articulate it.
He punched George once, right in the kisser. George had deserved it.
George will do a great job of running the inn, Kelley decides.
Mitzi’s voice. “Potter is on the phone. He has something he wants to ask you.”
Mitzi sounds coy. Who is Potter? Harry Potter? Kelley made it through the first book only.
“I’ll give him your blessing,” Mitzi says. “Our blessing.”
Is it Christmas yet?
He feels someone rubbing his feet. Lara, not Laura.