“KATIE, YOU KNOW WHAT to expect, don’t you,” Grandma Dodie said after the nurse left the room with the IV pumps. “You know what’s likely to happen now.”
She nodded.
“Will you stay, please?”
Grandma Dodie had heard the others talking about taking shifts to give Courtney a break and let Silas come back, now that they knew it was likely the end was near. Katie considered herself the least likely candidate to remain at Grandpa Wilson’s bedside for the vigil. She’d ached over the thought. Being there for Micah and his family’s Christmas was what compelled her to come to Stillwater in the first place.
“It would mean a lot to Mom,” Tim said. “To all of us.”
Deb took both of Katie’s hands. “Do you think it will be hours? Or minutes? Allie and I will go and let Courtney and Silas be part of this if you think there’s time.”
Katie saw her Micah in Deb’s eyes. This incredibly sensitive and warmhearted woman came as part of the package for anyone who agreed to be Micah’s wife. “I don’t know. He’s still breathing, even without the oxygen. But I wouldn’t dare guess.”
Tim stepped out of the room to call the cottage and inform the rest of the family about what was happening, which was nothing. No change. He returned with four folding chairs to add to the chairs a nurses’ aide had already added to the small room. With most of the equipment gone, it felt like sitting around the bonfire, waiting for the flames to turn to embers and the embers to dust.
Some stood, holding Grandpa Wilson’s limp hand or stroking his colorless forehead. Grandma Dodie’s softer vinyl chair had been positioned at his bedside. She never let go of his hand.
“We were in this for the long haul, weren’t we, Wilson?” She laid her head on the bed, her silver hair brushing his arm.
An hour passed with no change in the faint blips on the monitor. Two hours. Spent coffee cups and water bottles filled the wastebasket, and family members drifted in and out of exhausted sleep. Minutes’ worth at a time.
Bathroom breaks were less complicated than at the cottage, but still carefully timed. No one wanted to leave for long, or leave Grandma Dodie alone.
When Micah left the room in search of more coffee, Katie pulled her folding chair close to her pre-fiancé’s grandmother. She put her arm around the rounded shoulders. “It’s an honor to be a part of this. Thank you for including me in such a tender family moment.”
“You are family, Katie. Even if you’re not ready to admit it yet.” Grandma Dodie smiled.
“I have a few issues to reconcile before I can—”
“Your ancestry.”
“That’s one of them.” They kept their voices low because of the solemnness in the room and the sleeping vigil-keepers, as well as the subject matter.
“Micah told me a little about that. Not sure why you’d think that disqualifies you from having a good marriage. No reason Jesus’ birth should have worked out at all, considering His lineage. Generation after generation of people who either didn’t know God or who messed up in a big enough way to get their stories in the Bible as ‘what not to do.’”
Katie laid her head on Dodie’s soft shoulder. “Unlike my family line, a couple of them behaved themselves.”
“Even the best of them had their not-so-pretty moments. Like the two of us.”
“You and Grandpa Wilson?”
“He almost became my ex-husband.” She stroked his blue-veined hand. “Shortly after Paul was born. Wilson developed a friendship with a woman at work that went further than either of them anticipated.”
Katie fought for breath. “Did you . . . leave him? Did he leave you?”
“For six months. Then we both decided if we were in it for the long haul we’d better figure out how to make that happen.”
“And you did.”
“That’s what love, the right kind of stubbornness—and a whole lot of prayer—does for a couple.” She turned her attention toward her husband again. “That ring Micah gave you, the one patterned after this one?” She held her fleshier hand toward Katie. The ring had dug a permanent impression in her finger. “This isn’t,” Dodie said, “the original. I had a simple gold band when we married.”
The ring. She’d forgotten to tell Micah she’d dug it out from under the washing machine. And kept it with her things. “What happened to your original?”
“I threw it away.”
Katie felt the blow of those words deep in her core.
“And almost threw away the marriage.”
“I’m sure you thought you had every right,” Katie said. A lame response. What does someone say to a statement like that?
“Wilson gave me this a year after our renewed commitment to what the first one should have represented—the two of us, no matter what, forever. I don’t know if you recognized the pattern of my silverware. Eternally Yours. I bought it, piece by piece as we could afford them, over the course of the next thirty years. It meant something every time. When we say grace over a meal, it means something far more than most people know.”
In it for the long haul. No matter what.
“Contentment showed up later than forgiveness. But it came. I think it’s been the hardest on him. He finally admitted a few years ago that he probably did need the antidepressants our doctor had mentioned more than once.”
Micah returned with coffee and cellophane-wrapped doughnuts. The crinkling was enough to wake the sleeping. All except for Grandpa Wilson, whose vitals and breathing remained unchanged.
Another hour passed, one slow second at a time.
“It’s after midnight.” Paul stood and made his way to the bedside. “Merry Christmas, Dad.” He leaned down to kiss him.
“Merry Christmas, everybody.” The greeting circled the room, husbands and wives leaning on one another.
Micah had just bitten into a powdered sugar doughnut. He set it aside and reached for Katie. She waved him off. “I’ll wait.”
A male voice said, “Not long, I hope.”
The room stilled.
“Paul, are you practicing ventriloquism again?” Rhonda took a tentative step forward.
“No.” His voice gravelly, Paul said, “It was Dad.”
Grandma Dodie sat wide-eyed, speechless.
Katie glanced at the monitors and stepped to the bedside. She touched her palm to Grandpa Wilson’s cheek.
“You need mittens, young lady.” Grandpa Wilson’s mouth quirked.
Grandma Dodie knocked over her chair in an effort to stand. “Wilson!”
In a weak but distinct voice, he said, “Something’s gone a-pumpernickel.”
“Something’s gone a-pumpernickel. It never really goes a-rye.” His eyes blinked, then closed again. “Got that from Paul. I suppose you could tell.”
Allie ran for the nurse. Katie checked his pupils, felt his pulse, and stared dumbfounded at the readings on the monitors. Every level had begun to creep toward normal. A long, slow crawl, but definitely upward.
The Binders seemed caught between joy and disbelief. What just happened?
Grandpa Wilson drifted off again, but only for a moment. When the nurse came in, he managed a small wink.
As the nurse repeated the process Katie had followed, she asked, “Sir, can you tell me your name?”
“Wilson. Binder. And these are”—he raised his hand slowly—“all mine.” His voice dropped so low, the nurse had to lean in to hear him.
“What did he say?” Paul asked her.
“I don’t know what this means,” she said, “but he was trying to sing. Something like, ‘The earth will soon dissolve like snow.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
Grandma Dodie clasped her hands together as if in prayer and pressed them to her mouth with a repressed sob.
“Yeah,” Paul said, nodding. It took a moment to compose himself, then he recited, ‘The earth will soon dissolve like snow, the sun forbear to shine; but God, who called me here below, will be forever mine.’ ‘Amazing Grace.’”
The nurse looked around the room. “I don’t think Dr. Franzen would mind if I woke him to see this. I’ll be right back. In the meantime, enjoy the moment.”
Grandma Dodie leaned in to kiss her husband on the cheek. “We do. We always do.”
“So,” Wilson said, eyes closed but heart aimed at his wife, “what did you get me for Christmas this year?”
“I’m giving you patience.”
“That’s what you gave me last year, Dodie.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll take it.”
“MICAH, YOU LOOK SO sober. Aren’t you thrilled?” Katie swirled the last half-inch of coffee in the Styrofoam cup. Sludge.
Micah massaged his temples. “Of course. But it made me all the more conscious of how close we all walk to that edge—here, or gone. The next time may be the last time for him.” He turned to the wall so no one else would hear. “Is it wrong to wonder if this recovery is temporary?”
“Let’s wait to see what the doctor thinks before we pre-worry, okay?”
Micah smiled and traced his finger down her arm. “That sounds like something I’d say to you.”
“Well!” Dr. Franzen stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Merry Christmas to the Binder family.”
“Hope your bed was more comfortable than this one, Doc.” Grandpa Wilson’s rasp got the words out, but barely.
Dr. Franzen ran his hand through his hair, then retraced his steps to the entrance of the room and squirted waterless hand-cleaner into his palms. “Cot in the staff lounge. And no. You got the premium bed, Mr. Wilson.” He started his assessment while the family watched. “We haven’t met, officially. I’m Kirk Franzen. Can you squeeze my hand? I’ve had the privilege of monitoring your case this evening. Now this hand? Good. Can you take a deep breath for me? Don’t worry about that. After what you’ve been through, we’ll call that deep enough for now.”
“What have I been through? Apparently I slept through most of it.” Grandpa Wilson’s weak voice showed a small but meaningful improvement the more alert he became.
“The word sleep would be generous. And we’re still not sure what brought this on, which is disconcerting. We’d like to be able to prevent another occurrence. I’m sure your family would agree.”
A thought nagged at Katie. She replayed the scene with the paramedics. They’d asked about his medications. Grandma Dodie sent her to the kitchen cupboard. A zippered plastic bag held her medications. Another was marked with his name. She grabbed it and . . . and there was a single prescription bottle behind the bag. She’d assumed since it wasn’t in one of the bags, it was not used regularly, not part of the everyday routine. What if—?
She’d listed the prescriptions to the paramedics, who took the bag from her. No antidepressant was among them.
“Excuse me?” She might have overlooked it. It was a grabbing-at-straws thought.
“What is it, Katie?” Grandma Dodie rubbed a hand on her bad hip.
Katie drew close to the bed. Was this even public knowledge? “Didn’t you say Grandpa Wilson takes an antidepressant?”
“Yes. This last one they tried has worked the best.”
“A lifesaver,” Grandpa Wilson said. “Makes me sleepier than I want to be, though. Especially with so much happening.”
Dr. Franzen’s eyebrows arched. “A new antidepressant? Which one?”
“I don’t remember the name of it. Do you, Wilson?”
Dr. Franzen listed three or four.
“That’s it. That last one,” Wilson said.
“When did you start the new medication?”
Grandpa Wilson looked at his wife. She answered, “Late last week. Thursday? Yes, it was Thursday because we had to wait to pick up the hams until after we got done at the pharmacy.”
“What dosage are you taking?” Dr. Franzen asked.
Grandma Dodie frowned. “We should know this. I need to update the list he carries in his wallet. All I know is the color and that he’s supposed to cut them in half. The pharmacy didn’t have the right strength in stock.”
Grandpa Wilson’s eyebrows crept up his forehead. “Cut them in half?”
“Wilson, you have been cutting them in half, haven’t you? It says so right on the bottle.”
Dr. Franzen leaned on the hospital bed with two fists.
“Could that have caused this?” Katie asked.
The doctor nodded his head. “Most definitely. No reversal agent. No blood levels would have told us that’s what caused the symptoms. If you’ve inadvertently been taking twice what your doctor recommended—That could be it, folks.”
“I haven’t felt right for a while. Thought I’d wait until after the holidays to mention it,” Grandpa Wilson said, his words clouded with remorse. “Didn’t want my troubles to get in the way of Christmas.”
“Good job with that plan, Dad,” Paul said. The laughter that filled the room quickly faded out of respect for other patients on the unit.
“So,” Grandpa said, “can we take this party and go home?”
“Not quite so fast.” Dr. Franzen pointed to the monitors. “Your numbers are looking better and better. But I need to run some more labs, and we should keep an eye on things for a good part of the day. Sending you home prematurely wouldn’t be wise. I pulled a forty-eight, so I’ll be here all day.” He crossed his arms. “Binder family, I think you got your Christmas miracle.”
“We do every year.” Grandma Dodie put her hand—pledge-of-allegiance style—over her heart.
“I’ll dictate some orders, then I plan on getting some more shut-eye. It looks as if at least half a dozen of you would benefit from the same. If I were you, I’d go home, get some sleep. Rest assured we’ll call if there’s any change. Which I don’t expect.” Dr. Franzen turned to go with a dance move that looked like a football player in the end zone silently thanking his Creator.
“Let me stay,” Paul said. “The rest of you go on home. Mom, you need to give that leg a rest. And Tim, the dark circles under your eyes have drooped to your moustache.”
“I don’t have a—” He rubbed above his lip. “Ooh. Maybe I do.”
They gave Grandpa Wilson good night hugs, each one praying a blessing over him this time. “We’ll see you later.”
“I’ll be here.”
A beautiful benediction.
THEY LEFT A VEHICLE for Paul, in case by some act of mercy, Grandpa Wilson was discharged before the swirling circle of silver fish made it back to the hospital. That meant the other cars were maxed out for the trip home. It gave new meaning to the phrase “lean on me.”
Katie leaned against the headrest. Two a.m. on Christmas morning. Dawn would come too soon. But rivers of light already flowed around obstacles in her mind. Many years ago, Micah’s grandparents’ marriage had almost dissolved, and for good reason. But they fought for their marriage and won. The perfection she’d thought exquisite but unattainable wasn’t perfection at all. It was a family that dug in their heels and determined to love, to survive, to repair the damaged fabric of their legacy, with God’s help.
Maybe that was the definition of perfection after all. Outrageous, extravagant love.
Christmas’s version—an unwed teen mother. An unexpectantly expectant father. A divine Babe in a rude manger. Perfection.
Had her resentments about her parents’ and grandparents’ and great-times-a-hundred-grandparents’ histories kept her from fully embracing the wonder of the Christmas story all this time?
Every year when November turned to December, she tensed, expecting conflict, anticipating disappointment, waiting for more family disintegration at the holidays. And she thought she had no choice. Predisposed to relationship failure.
What if—?
“Katie. Katie?”
That deep, soothing, warm-toned voice. Micah. She opened her eyes.
“We’re home,” he said, nudging her from half-sleep. When he opened the car door, a blast of cold air stung her face. “Come on. There’s a lovely window seat and a couple of pillows waiting for you. And frankly, my couch is going to feel like heaven tonight. What’s left of the night.”
Katie saw no need to find her pajamas in the dark, but climbed into her quilt nest fully clothed. She faintly heard Grandma Dodie say she was taking Paul’s spot. Adapt and adjust. Binders sliding over to make room for one more. Momentary peace. Babies quiet. Silent night. Holy ni . . .
CINNAMON. SHE SMELLED cinnamon. And wood smoke. And coffee.
Katie opened one eye. Grandma Dodie and Rhonda stood a foot from her window seat. One held a plate-sized cinnamon roll, steam rising from its fluffy delightfulness. The other held an enormous holly-themed mug.
“I told you that would get to her,” Rhonda said.
Katie sat up. “What time is it?”
“Nine. We can’t hold off the little ones much longer. Rhonda, let’s leave her breakfast on the table and let the woman have a moment to collect herself.”
She scooted through the kitchen and across the corner of the family room toward the hallway but stopped halfway and backtracked. A fire crackled in the fireplace. The tree stood tall, proud, well-lit, and fragrant. Most of the family was dressed and sitting in a misshapen circle around the room, the youngest in their Christmas pajamas. But no presents sat under the tree. Hmm. She’d assumed they’d appear on Christmas morning—another Binder tradition.
Katie waved a quick greeting to the family and prayed the bathroom was unoccupied. It was.
“How do you do that?” Micah asked when she emerged ten minutes later and joined the crowd.
“Do what?”
“Look so beautiful after the kind of day we had yesterday?”
Katie smiled and sank onto one of the couches beside him. “You don’t have your contacts in yet, do you?”
“I don’t wear contacts.”
“Must be some other explanation then. My cinnamon roll!” They must have had something to eat the day before. Hadn’t they? Some details were still foggy. But her stomach felt more hollow than it had been since she’d arrived in Stillwater.
“I’ll get it for you,” Micah said.
“Any word from the hospital?” Katie directed her question to the bevy of adults gathered.
“Grandma Dodie talked to him this morning,” Brogan said, crutching his way into the room with a duffel bag in one hand and a diaper bag over his shoulder. “Still looking good for his being released later today.” He dropped the bags near the door. “Shortly after Grandpa Wilson gets here, Courtney and I are heading to my mom’s. She hasn’t met Evan and Gabe yet, and I’m a”—he used one crutch to point to his injured leg—“tripping hazard here.”
Courtney followed with one infant in a swaddling carrier and another over her shoulder. “We’ll be back for New Year’s,” she said. Multiple hands offered to relieve her of one of the babies. “Even if I have to come alone and let Brogan get some TLC from his mom. I’m a little . . . distracted at the moment.”
“And sleep deprived and exhausted and—”
Courtney stuck one hand onto her hip, a stance that looked especially comedic with the bundle strapped to her midsection.
“And . . . the . . . very best mommy in the whole wide world!” Brogan concluded.
Micah returned with Katie’s cinnamon roll and coffee, reheated for her. “Did you see how it’s coming down out there? Anyone catch a weather forecast?”
Half a dozen phones appeared. Fingers punched weather apps. Almost in unison, they said, “Whoa, that doesn’t look good.”
Grandma Dodie stopped the cacophony like a concertmaster. “One of you. We need one of you to report. And then . . . the phones go back in the bin, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tim read, “Up to ten inches of new snow before morning. Dangerously high winds predicted starting midday. Watch for drifting and whiteout conditions. Roads will be snow-covered and slippery. Hunker down, folks.”
“It says ‘hunker down’?” Grandma Dodie peered over her son’s shoulder.
Courtney and Brogan didn’t look happy about the news.
“We’d better get packed up and leave as soon as we can, Courtney.”
“And miss all the—You’re right. I don’t like it, but we have our sons to consider now. What happened to our adventurous spirit?” Her voice sounded light, but her face registered her disappointment.
Deb wrapped her arms around her daughter. “You’ll have plenty of adventure in your future. Trust me. What can I do to help?”
“Grandma Dodie, we’ve been waiting,” Twilight said, as close to a whine as Katie had heard from anyone in their family.
Katie had wondered how long it would take for the younger ones to fidget about their long-delayed presents. Micah had insisted there was no need for Katie to get small gifts for the girls, or his parents or grandparents. She balked, but her financial picture expressed its gratitude. Now she wondered if the Binders somehow maintained a moratorium on gifts the way they had technology.
“You have been waiting a good long while, haven’t you?” Grandma Dodie opened a door on an end table and pulled out a basket. “It’s time. Is there anyone who hasn’t yet deposited their cell phone in the technology time-out bin?”
Four sheepish hands.
“We need someone to take a video of this so Grandpa Wilson and Uncle Paul can see it later. Courtney? Brogan? Can we take a moment for this first, and get some pictures of the family, all that are here?”
“Sure. We don’t want to miss this.”
“It’s Sunburst’s turn to do the drawing,” Grandma Dodie said.
Katie leaned into Micah. “What’s this?”
“Our alternative to gifts under the tree. Each family contributes toward a collection we share with a different charity every year.”
“I didn’t know that meant the younger children too.”
“They’re the most enthusiastic. I think it was Madeline’s idea originally,” Micah said.
“I love this family.”
“Me too. Everybody writes down their charity-of-choice for the year and we pick one to be the recipient. Binder Family Tradition.” Micah added, “The girls get their fair share of gifts from their parents, rest assured.”
Sunburst trotted to where Grandma Binder held the basket. She dug her hand into the pieces of paper in the container, then cleared her throat. “And the winner is . . . the Every Hungry Child Fed Initiative!” Sunburst danced as the room erupted in applause and whoops. Her sisters and cousins joined her.
“Great organization,” Tim said. “That reminds me . . . are there any cinnamon rolls left?”
“Timothy.” Grandma Binder’s tone lightened. “Yes. Plenty. But don’t spoil your lunch. We have to fit a turkey dinner and ham for supper into the same day.”
“It’ll be rough,” Tim said. “I’m not going to lie. But I’ll give it my best shot. Who’s with me?”
Katie didn’t want to step on toes, but the solution seemed obvious. “Could we have leftovers for supper tonight and save the hams for tomorrow? Keep Christmas going? It doesn’t have to end.” Did she just say that?
“We can celebrate the day Jesus was one day old!” Twilight said, her enthusiastic tiptoe-response an obvious carryover from her Sugar Plum Fairy performance. “And then, the next day, when the Baby was two days old—”
“This could go on forever.” Titus sighed.
Grandma Dodie’s line of sight drifted to somewhere beyond the ceiling. “Would that be so bad?”
Aurora tugged on her grandmother’s sleeve. “How much, Grandma? How much did we raise for the hungry children?”
“Your uncle Paul kept track of the money. We’ll have to find out from him later.”
“Or you could ask me now.” Paul walked his father into the room from the kitchen, Wilson attempting to shake off his assistance.
“Paul Stephen Binder! You rascal! Did you know when I called that they were discharging Dad this early?” Dodie wrapped her arms around her husband and gave him a kiss that elicited another round of applause from the little girls.
Brogan tried to work the footrest to extricate his body from Wilson’s chair. Grandpa Wilson waved him off and lowered himself into the kitchen chair Tim pulled from the other room.
“I talked the medical staff into it when we heard the updated forecast,” Paul said. “Thought that was supposed to wait until tomorrow. Guess it was in a hurry for Christmas too.”
“What are the roads like now?” Brogan asked.
“Not bad.” Uncle Paul said. He felt the end of his nose and asked Aurora, “Does my nose look longer to you?”
Grandpa Wilson shook his head. “Feared for my life. The boy can find a snowdrift where there aren’t any.”
“I learned from the best, old man. Remember, you’ve been ordered to bed rest, at least for most of the day.”
“I heard. I heard. Give me just a minute or two with the loves of my life.”
Katie watched his kind eyes grow glossy with tears. One by one, from the youngest to the oldest, his family members gathered around him and told him how much they loved him.
“We couldn’t have Christmas without you, Grandpa,” Mackenzie said.
He drew her into a one-armed hug. “Christmas is going to come whether I’m here or not, you know. It’s relentless that way. Nothing stopped it that first Christmas. Nothing will stop it now.”
His wisdom was punctuated by winter drama.
The lights went out.
WILSON FELT ONE small ping in his heart. And it wasn’t from too much medicine. This family was going to have Christmas without him someday. The Binders would go on without him. And someday, without his Dodie. God, if it’s all the same to you, me first, okay?
How does a man imagine life without a love like hers?