Saints Among Us (14 page)

They decided to serve relatively traditional fare. Jane had stuffed and baked a turkey and was now whipping buttermilk potatoes into a frothy delight. Her special cranberry-orange sauce was ready to go on the table, as were several vegetables and homemade honey-wheat biscuits. She had made both pumpkin and lemon-meringue pies, as well as a selection of cookies for those too full for an entire slice of pie. Louise felt a bit guilty for not helping with more of the preparation, but Jane assured her she didn’t need to. And, thought Louise, watching her little sister efficiently buzzing from one dish to another, Jane was so very good at it.

Louise had set the table with their mother’s best china, a soft, lovely Wedgwood pattern, and was filling a crystal pitcher with water when the doorbell rang.

“Our first guests.” She set the pitcher aside. “I’ll get that.”

Florence and Ronald Simpson were the first arrivals. As she took their coats, Louise could see Ethel Buckley and Lloyd Tynan just pulling into the driveway. She hurried back to the kitchen.

“You’ve got to come in here,” she said to Jane. “Aunt Ethel and Florence in the same room? Are we prepared for that? And I certainly can’t help since Ethel isn’t speaking to me.”

“I talked with Aunt Ethel,” Jane assured her. “She promised to try to make Florence feel that her contributions to the crafts fair are important.”

“I wish Kenneth would get here,” Louise said fervently as the doorbell rang the second time. “He handles those two better than anyone else I know, even Alice.”

The sisters were silent for a moment, thinking of their absent one. Alice was the acknowledged peacekeeper in the family and beyond, with her soft demeanor and kind words. Louise sometimes wished she could be more like Alice. But honestly, there was simply no reason for some of the silly things people did, and she had limited patience. Alice had been born to soothe, which was one reason she was such an excellent nurse.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” Louise exclaimed.

“And the same to you,” Lloyd returned. “Thank you for inviting me.

Ethel only mumbled a holiday greeting, and Louise’s smile faded. Avoiding her aunt’s eyes, she beckoned the couple into the foyer. “Let me take your coats. Kenneth, do come in,” she added as she spotted the pastor approaching the door. “Here, let me take your coat and you can go into the drawing room with these two.”
In addition
,
you can play referee
, she thought, although she refrained from voicing it aloud.

Kenneth smiled at her, and as Ethel and Lloyd preceded him into the drawing room, he said quietly, “I saw Florence and Ronald pulling in, and I notice you’re acting nervous. Nervous is unlike you, Louise. Are Ethel and Florence having another tiff?”

“Not a tiff, exactly,” she hedged, unwilling to involve her friend in a family concern. “It’s just that the crafts fair has created some tensions.”

“Ah. I see.” He turned to enter the drawing room, then looked back at Louise and smiled. “I shall offer my services as a buffer, for what they are worth.”

Everyone else arrived in short order, and Louise was kept busy introducing their two inn guests to the others. Ethel and Florence, thankfully, seemed busy chatting with other people and had not exchanged more than a “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Several times, Louise glanced at her aunt, but Ethel was chatting in animated fashion with others at the table and seemed unconcerned that she had not spoken to Louise. Resentment and sadness churned in Louise’s breast. She realized she had been too forceful with her suggestions and too abrupt in her criticism, but she had apologized. Ethel had made no effort to do anything of the sort, and yet she continued to behave as if Louise was the pariah. Once again, Louise wished Alice were here. Even if she could not do anything about their aunt’s attitude, Louise would have welcomed the support.

Jane bustled back and forth, setting steaming bowls of vegetables on the table. Finally, she entered with the pièce de résistance, her marvelous turkey on a large platter, surrounded by greens and radishes for color. It had been carefully sliced so that the meat could easily be forked onto plates without disturbing the handsome effect.

“What a lovely meal you’ve prepared, Jane,” said Ethel. “It’s almost a shame to disturb it.”

“Oh, wait! I have a digital camera,” Florence said. “Let me take a picture before we sit down.” She snapped several shots in short order, and then the guests took their places.

“This way, Alice will be able to see how our meal looked,” said Ethel.

“After the meal, we could take a group picture,” suggested Florence. “So you girls could show it to her when she returns.”

“An excellent idea.” Ethel beamed at Florence.

Louise could not help sliding a glance at Jane as Kenneth invited them all to bow their heads. Jane winked and grinned. It just went to show, Louise thought, that there was no predicting a person’s behavior.

Thanksgiving at Camp Compassion was odd without her family, Alice decided. That was the only word for it.
Odd
.

The volunteers had set up two long tables end-to-end out in a grassy area. Along one side, a third table was placed to serve as a buffet. Riley had directed Miranda and Royce to cover the tables with sheets of white butcher paper with the shiny side up, for effect.

Diners were asked to bring their own chairs and drinks. Accordingly a variety of camp stools, lawn chairs and folding chairs were placed haphazardly, while water bottles, fruit juices and energy drinks dotted the tables.

Paper towels served as napkins, and there were paper plates and plastic utensils. But the meal itself was the most radical departure from that to which Alice was accustomed.

The meal had been provided by a vegetarian chef who volunteered his services and supplies after he’d read about the animal-rescue efforts online. The main dish, served in place of turkey, was butternut squash with whole-wheat, wild rice and onion stuffing. Alice knew the ingredients because on the buffet table where the food was set out, there were small placards indicating what each of the dishes was. There was something labeled a “Jerusalem Artichoke Salad.” Baked maple-and-tarragon sweet potatoes, cranberry-apple sauce, and wine-and-honey-glazed brussels sprouts were among the other offerings. Finally, at the end of the table, to Alice’s immense delight, was a familiar sight, pumpkin pie.

“This is amazing,” Ellen said as they took their seats.

“Way beyond amazing, Mom.” Miranda thanked her brother as he unfolded her stool for her. “How much cooler could it get than to have a vegetarian meal here?”

“I have to confess it never even occurred to me,” June said. “I’ve been making turkey and stuffing for my kids, my brothers and their families for years. I guess I just assumed we’d have turkey.”

“This is exciting.” Alice picked up her fork and sniffed at the stuffing. “Yum.”

Mark sat down on her other side, his own plate loaded with some of everything. “I’m starving.”

She laughed.

Then Joe tapped on the end of the table. “All right, everybody. Someone said we need a prayer. But right now, around this table, there are people of at least three different faiths and probably more. I know this interesting fact because I asked.”

There was a ripple of laughter around the table.

“So I’m going to keep it simple,” Joe said. “Those of you who aren’t believers, feel free to ignore us. I respect everyone’s right to his or her own beliefs. Now, for those who wish to pray, let us bow our heads.”

People began to clasp their neighbor’s hands, although Joe had not suggested it. Heads bowed. Alice noted, just before she closed her eyes, that every single person at the table was participating.

“Dear God,” Joe said, “we came here from different walks of life, from different faiths, different ethnicities, educations, careers and economic backgrounds. But we all came here because we believe. We believe we were called by You to care for Your creatures. We believe You are with us as we minister to animals in need. We believe Your hands guide us to find and heal them. We believe Your love flows through us when we share that love with them.

“We ask You to guide us to animals in need. We ask You to make healing instruments of our hands and help us stay strong despite the overwhelming scope of this disaster. We ask You to keep us safe as we travel long distances back to our homes, and we ask You to move the hearts of more people to join our efforts.

“Thank You, God, for each one of these very special people and for the bounty of this feast we share today. Thank You for families who understand why we can’t be with them. Thank You for the camaraderie we share and the bonds that will hold us together forever from this day on. Thank You for all the lives we have saved through Your help. And keep those who didn’t make it close in Your comforting embrace now, beyond pain and fear.

“In Your name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen.” A number of people around the table echoed the closing, but no one moved for a long moment. Finally Alice released Mark’s and June’s hands to pick up her paper towel and dab at her eyes. As she looked around, she saw that she was not the only one.

“Wow!” Seated beside Ellen, Kyle swiped the back of his arm across his eyes in a true too-manly-to-cry gesture. “Joe woulda made a good preacher.”

“He said everything that was in my heart,” Alice said quietly.

“Okay, folks,” Joe called out, “our chef has gone way above and beyond the call with this meal. Dig in!”

Someone chuckled and they all began to eat.

Much later that evening, the trucks rolled in with more animals. Darrell and Oren had gone out, forgoing their own Thanksgiving, on another rescue mission. Alice was glad to know Joe had set heaping plates of food aside for them on their return.

Along with everyone else, Alice worked to get every frightened, starving animal documented and cared for as quickly as possible. Her final intake was a cat, and she sucked in her breath in dismay when she saw its condition.

Corinne shook her head as she handed Alice the towel-wrapped cat. It was completely limp, eyes open and pupils appearing fixed, and it had a huge open wound along one side of its head. The only sign of life was a thin, barely audible wheezing cry that accompanied the release of each shallow breath.

“This is not hurricane damage. This injury is recent,” Alice said sadly. The cat was a gray-striped tabby that reminded her of Wendell right down to the four white stockings. She skipped any bathing and rushed it through intake straight to a vet exam. As luck—or lack of luck—would have it, Mark was occupied and Dr. Spade was free. Alice took a deep breath, forcing herself to set aside her reluctance to experience any more of his cutting comments.

To her surprise, he thanked her as she set down her precious bundle. He gently unwrapped the towel and went over every inch of the unresponsive animal. After the examination, he straightened and shook his head. “I’m going to clean out this head wound. She has a broken jaw but there do not appear to be other broken bones or external injuries. The eyes and the lack of reflexes suggest to me that her brain is probably swelling.” He ran a gentle hand down the cat’s soft flank. “All we can do is hydrate her, keep her warm, and wait to see what happens.”

“You mean she…could live?” Alice couldn’t believe it.

Dr. Spade shrugged. “I wouldn’t say her chances are good, but I’ve seen cats rebound from seemingly life-ending injuries before. There’s a reason they say cats have nine lives. Let’s not give up on her yet.”

“Thank you.” Alice laid the towel back over the kitty and slipped her hands beneath the floppy body, resolved to pray for the cat’s survival for all she was worth.

“Alice?”

She glanced up. Dr. Spade had both hands flat on the table. He was gazing down at them. “I owe you an apology. I’ve been curt and unkind since I arrived and I’m sorry. I drove straight down here from my father’s funeral, and I’ve been exhausted. In retrospect, going from one emotional setting to another that is also overwhelming in a different way probably wasn’t a good idea. But …I wanted to help.”

“And you have.”

He did not appear to register her words. “It’s not an excuse, but I want you to know I’m not always…I’m not’”