Operation Christmas (16 page)

Jess wove his fingers through Madeleine’s as her father bowed his head in prayer. She lifted her eyes and smiled at Crystal seated across the table. In the two years since meeting Crystal at Jess’s place of business, she’d grown into a beautiful young woman eager to take on the world. Her first serious boyfriend joined them at the dinner table.

Everyone passed around the steaming dishes of turkey, dressing, and mashed potatoes. Madeleine took dabs of each. Cranberries and sweet potatoes were doled out in thimble-sized servings. Jess added a few more green beans to her meager four. “For the baby,” he smiled.

Madeleine’s gaze came to rest on Grams. Uncharacteristically quiet, she knew Grams was in a snit that she and Jess were keeping the baby’s name a secret until she was born. They locked gazes across the dinner table over the too high Christmas arrangement of greens and red and white carnations.

“I could die tomorrow. Then I’ll never know her name,” Grams blurted out of the blue, then emitted a loud sigh. “What’s with all the secrecy? I don’t get you young people.”

“Grace,” Jess said.

Grams screwed up her face. “Too old-fashioned. She’ll hate it.”

“I like it.” Janet came to her daughter’s defense. “Do you, Bill?” He nodded yes while chewing on a mouthful of food.

“Better than
Crystal.
” Crystal’s face pinched in distaste.

“What’s wrong with your name?” Jess stared blank at his sister.

“It’s a
gem
, not a name.”

“I’ve always loved it,” Madeleine commented.

Gram’s clinked her spoon against her water glass. “Quiet. Quiet everyone. I’ve made my decision. I’ve decided Grace is fine so long as no one calls her Gracie. That would be awful.”

Madeleine gave her a hard stare. “I’ll agree on one condition. That you stop threatening to join Gramps every time you don’t like something.”

Chatter broke out in bunches around the table. Madeleine stiffened and darted a glance at Jess. “Oh.” Taut pain made her grab her belly.

Jess scooted back his chair. “Is it time?” His napkin fluttered from his lap to the floor.

“Sit down, Jess. It’s nothing. I’m not even due for another two weeks.”

Grams huffed. “Heard that one before.”

Picking up her fork, Madeleine did her best to put everyone at ease by eating small forkfuls with discreet dabs at the beads of sweat dotting her hairline. Admittedly, she’d been having back pain off and on throughout the day but figured it due to fatigue and the hours she’d put in at the bakery against her parents’ and Jess’s wishes.

Another pain tightened in her back and spread around to her front like a vice. “Oh no. Not on Christmas, Grace. We’ve not opened our presents,” she whispered, patting her rock-hard belly.

Jess pulled out his cell. “I’m calling the doctor. My daughter can interrupt Christmas dinner for the rest of my life if she likes.”

“Don’t worry. She will,” Madeleine’s dad said with a laugh.

After which general mayhem broke out. Crystal giggled beside herself with excitement. Grams ordered everyone around. No one paid her mind. Her mom timed the contractions, and her dad gave advice to Jess. Everyone had something to say except Crystal’s boyfriend who sat pale faced and drawn. Madeleine would have burst out laughing if the pains would only subside.

****

By ten that evening, Jess couldn’t stop marveling at the tiny bundle cradled against his chest. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Over and over he counted them. He glanced at Madeleine asleep in the hospital bed. There was so much love in his heart he doubted there would ever be a better Christmas, or a more perfect little angel.

The quiet hospital room was nearly dark. Bright lights shone on the polished floor outside the door. No visible sign of an angel—or angels—hovered near that he could tell.

Once again, his missing arm reminded him something could be present but not seen or felt. He grinned and imagined a burly angel with beefy arms crossed against a massive chest. A short white skirt and spread-leg stance said
bring it on
. Frayed burnt edges decorated his wings like medals—a soldier of a different kind in an unseen battle against death.

“You’re one awesome soldier, angel,” Jess murmured. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my life so I could hold my daughter.”

He kissed the baby’s forehead and felt love pour over him from head to toe—warm flowing energy that bathed him in the true meaning of Christmas.

A word about the author...

Barbara Weitz lives in a quiet suburb of Chicago with her husband and a mischievous German shepherd, thankful her three grown sons are off making mayhem elsewhere. Her wide scope of mundane and unusual employment opportunities, coupled with a passion for animals and music, helps shape the characters she writes about.

To learn more about the author, visit her website at:

http://barbaraweitz.com/

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Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

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