Gideon's Gift (10 page)

“When I was seven I thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.”

She giggled. “When you were seven?”

“Yep.” He brushed his lips against hers again. “I used to tell my dad that one day I was going to marry you.”

Anne’s face softened. “Really?”

“I was just a kid.” He drew back so he could see her better. “But, yeah, that was my dream.”

“Well…” The moonlight reflected in her eyes, and Earl could see the depth of her soul. “My daddy used to tell me the best
thing about dreams was this.”

He waited, wanting to kiss her again.

Her voice fell to a whisper. “Every once in a while they come true.”

In many ways that night marked the beginning. Because after that there was no turning back for either of them. By the time
Anne was a senior in high school and Earl into his second year as an electrician, no one doubted Earl’s intentions.

Two years later, he proposed.

Anne happily accepted and they were married that summer.

E
arl blinked as the images faded from his mind. His eyes met D. J.’s again. “Being married to Anne was… it was like all my
dreams had finally come true.”

“Yes.” The mission director shot an understanding smile at Earl. “Marriage is like that.”

“I didn’t think I could be happier.” Earl held his breath. “Until two years later when Molly was born.”

Earl settled back into his story. At first, Anne had struggled to get pregnant. For that reason, they were thrilled beyond
hope that fall when Anne delivered a healthy baby girl. Earl spent hours standing over their daughter’s crib, staring at her.
The perfect features and scant feathering of dark hair. Her precious lips. Even as an infant she was the mirror image of Anne,
and Earl used to fall asleep feeling like the luckiest man in the world.

In the following years Anne lost two babies and then began having severe bouts of abdominal pain. The doctors found her uterus
scarred and diseased; a hysterectomy was her only option. The day after Molly’s fifth birthday, Anne underwent the surgery.
Molly didn’t understand the implications, so Anne and Earl did their grieving in private.

“I’m so sorry, Earl.” Anne buried her face against Earl’s shoulder that night in the hospital room. “I wanted to give you
a houseful of babies.”

Earl silenced her with a kiss. “No, sweetheart, don’t ever say that. It isn’t your fault. And besides, I’d rather have Molly
than a dozen other children. With her, our family is complete.”

It was true, and after Anne’s surgery it became even more so. The three of them were together constantly. They shared meals
and conversation and storytime when Molly was little. As she grew, they took weekend drives to Medford and Grant’s Pass.

They were only apart on Sunday mornings. Anne would take Molly to service, but she never pushed the idea on Earl. Never even
asked him to come. Except on Christmas Eve. Earl was adamant about not attending.

A decision he would regret until he drew his last breath.

Molly was blessed with a voice that moved people to tears. From an early age she sang at church and took piano lessons. As
she got older, she spent many evenings entertaining her parents.

Sometime after Molly reached middle school, Anne took a job teaching first grade. It was the perfect supplement to Earl’s
modest living and it allowed them to spend a week each summer traveling to exotic places—the south of France, the Caribbean,
or Bermuda.

But though they cherished their summer vacations, Christmas was easily the family’s favorite time of year.

From early on, Earl and Anne and Molly had enjoyed a tradition. The three of them would each exchange one homemade present.
A card or a poem or sometimes a framed piece of artwork. Something Anne had knit or sewn, or a special craft. One year Molly
even sang her parents a song she’d written. Each Christmas these were the gifts they looked forward to most. The gifts they
remembered.

That was true even up until their last year together.

That spring Earl was laid off and times were rougher than they’d ever been. In June, instead of traveling, they sold their
house and furniture and moved in with Earl’s parents. Anne’s folks had sold their house by then, but Earl’s still lived right
where he’d grown up. It was a sprawling place with six bedrooms and three baths. Plenty of room for Earl and his family.

But Earl was discouraged.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you, Anne,” he told her as they turned in that first night in his parents’ house. “This is only
temporary.”

“Silly man.” Anne leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss. Her smile shimmered in the muted moonlight. “It doesn’t matter
where we live. You’ll get work again. And when you do, I’m sure we’ll have another house.” She brushed her nose against his.
“All that matters is that we have each other. Me and you and Molly.”

They settled into a routine. That fall, Earl found a job. Despite their housing situation, it was one of the happiest Thanksgivings
Earl could remember. They shared warm conversations with his parents and ate pumpkin pie late into the night.

None of them could wait for Christmas.

E
arl’s story stopped short. He blinked and his gaze fell to his weathered hands. This was the hard part, the part that didn’t
make sense. Earl and his family had been halfway to forever, enjoying the kind of life and love most people only dreamed of.

Bad times weren’t supposed to fall on people like Earl and Anne and Molly.

Across from him, D. J. inhaled sharply. “Something happened to them?”

“Yes.” Slowly, painfully, Earl allowed a handful of stubborn layers to join the others in a heap on the floor beside him.
If he was going to tell the story, he couldn’t stop now. “Yes, something happened to them.”

E
arl hadn’t talked about this to anyone. Not ever. But there, with the kindly mission director listening, it was time. He drew
a slow breath and let the details come.

On December 22 that year, most of their gifts had been wrapped and placed beneath the tree. Anne and Earl still had shopping
to do, but Molly was adamant about going out to dinner and taking a drive to see Christmas lights. Usually the three of them
waited until after Christmas to check out local displays.

Earl cast Anne a questioning glance and shrugged.

“Why not?” She grinned at their daughter. “Shopping can wait. Maybe your grandpa and grandma would like to come.”

“That’s okay.” Earl’s father grinned at them. “You young people go and have a good time.”

At six o’clock that evening they set out. The night was cool and clear; a million stars fanned out across the winter sky.
They were two blocks away from home when it happened.

One moment Earl was driving his family through an intersection. They were all talking at once, pointing at lights and laughing
about something Molly had said. When suddenly, in the blink of an eye, Earl saw a truck the size of a freight train barreling
toward them.

“Noooo!” Earl’s piercing shout stilled the laughter just as the truck made impact. For what felt like minutes, they were surrounded
by the deafening sound of twisting metal and breaking glass. Their car was spinning, flying through the air. Then, finally,
it jolted to a stop, leaving a bone-chilling silence.

Earl’s legs were pinned beneath the dash. His breathing was shallow and choppy and at first he couldn’t find the wind to speak.

“Anne… Molly…” His words were the dimmest of whispers. Inch by inch, he forced himself to turn until he could see Anne beside
him. Her head was hanging strangely to one side. Blood trickled from her mouth and ear. “Anne!” This time his voice shook
the car. “Anne, honey, wake up!”

There was a moaning in the backseat and Earl fought the pain to twist around. “Molly? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

She was silent. Then Earl noticed something that turned his stomach. Her head wasn’t right. The entire right side was flatter
than before. “Somebody, help us! Please!”

Sirens sounded in the distance and Earl heard people running toward them. A man’s voice shouted at him. “Hang on, in there.
Help’ll be here any minute. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Earl wanted to shout at the man that no, it wasn’t okay. His girls were hurt. He needed to check on Anne, make sure she was
breathing. But black dots clouded his vision. The man outside the car began to fade and Earl realized he was fainting.

No,
he ordered himself.
Not now. The girls need me.
Then with a final burst of strength he reached out and took hold of Anne’s fingers. “Anne…”

It was the last word he said before blacking out. When he woke up the next day he was in a hospital, desperate to find his
family. Within an hour he knew the awful truth.

Anne had died on impact, and Molly was on life support. Her brain waves were completely gone, but doctors wanted to wait.
In case Earl woke up in time to say good-bye.

His own injuries were life threatening, but he insisted they wheel him in to see his daughter. He was holding her hand when
her heart stopped beating, and with it, every reason Earl had to live…

A
gain the memories lifted.

Tears spilled from Earl’s eyes onto his old parka as he searched D. J.’s face. “I buried them the day after Christmas.”

The mission director placed his hand on Earl’s shoulder and said nothing. For a long while they stayed that way, while Earl
quietly cried. “I’m sorry. It still hurts like it was yesterday.”

“Take your time.”

Earl closed his eyes and finished the story.

The night after the funeral, despite his breaking heart, Earl had opened his presents. He did so in the quiet of the night,
long after his parents were asleep. Among the practical store-bought things were two gifts wrapped in white tissue paper—the
symbol he and the girls had used over the years to designate the gifts that were homemade. He opened the one from Molly first.

It was a framed painting she’d worked on at school, a picture of the manger scene that was eerily similar to the one Gideon
had drawn for him. Above it was scribbled this message: “Daddy… you make every Christmas beautiful.”