The Red Gloves Collection (5 page)

A bitter man like that didn’t deserve the attention of anyone.

Least of all his precious Gideon.

G
ideon waited until Dustin was asleep before she did it.

When she could hear his soft breathing and she was sure he wasn’t going to wake up, she slipped out of bed and dropped to her knees. The floor felt bumpy through her worn nightgown, and her knees hurt. They’d done that ever since she got sick. But right now the hurt didn’t matter.

She’d been planning this since they left the mission.

The idea had come when she’d heard her father’s friend talking about Earl. What was it he’d said?
It would take a miracle to make Earl smile.
Yes, that was it. It would take a miracle. Gideon had thought about that ever since.

At first when Earl yelled at her, she’d been sad. Like maybe she had said something to make him angry. But that wasn’t it at all.

The old man was worse than a person who didn’t smile, and Gideon knew why: Earl didn’t believe.

And her dad’s friend said it would take a miracle to change that.

Gideon’s heart bumped around inside her the same way it did on the first day of school. She folded her hands and bowed her head. Sometimes she prayed quietly, in her own heart. But not tonight. This was a big prayer—one of the biggest she’d ever prayed. That’s why she’d had to wait for Dustin to fall asleep. So she could whisper the words out loud.

“Dear God. Hi. It’s me. Gideon.”

She waited, just in case God wanted to talk.

“Daddy and I asked you for something so big it could only be a Christmas miracle.” The air was cold around her legs, and she began to shiver. “Well, God, I think I found something. You see, there’s a man at the mission named Earl. He’s old and mad and he doesn’t remember how to smile. Worse than that, he forgot how to believe.”

She shifted position so her knees wouldn’t hurt. “My teacher says Christmas miracles happen to those who believe. If that’s true—if it’s really true—then please, God, please help Earl believe again. That’s something very big, but I know you can do it. And when you do, it will really be the best Christmas miracle of all.”

CHAPTER SIX

I
t was time to face reality.

Christmas was only twelve days away and Brian Mercer had no choice but to admit the obvious: There simply wasn’t enough money to make this Christmas the perfect one Gideon dreamed of. There would be no real tree, no shiny new fire truck for Dustin, and no new doll for Gideon.

D.J. had found a bag of donated items—a well-loved stuffed cow for Gideon, a bag full of Matchbox cars for Dustin, and a stack of books that looked barely read. And he and Tish had saved up and bought the kids new shoes and socks. It would be a more extravagant Christmas than some. But far from perfect.

Tish had tried to comfort him about that fact. After all, Gideon was in remission. What more could they ask for? Gideon’s illness had cost them every spare dime. If she stayed well, if work at the mill picked up, then maybe they could pull off that kind of Christmas next year or the year after that.

He made his way through the front door and slung his coat over an old chair. He felt tired and defeated. “Tish?” He dropped to the old sofa as Tish and Dustin bounded down the stairs.

“Hi, Daddy! Guess what?” Dustin jumped on his lap. He was small for six, but he had enough energy for two boys his age. “Me and Mommy are making Christmas strings.”

Christmas strings.
Brian hid his frustration. Every year Tish saved up junk mail and old magazines so the kids could cut them apart, twist them into colorful wads of paper, and sew them onto long pieces of string. Christmas strings, they called them. They draped the strings around the apartment as a way of preparing for the holidays.

Couldn’t they have real decorations? Just once? Brian kissed Dustin on the cheek. “Good for you, buddy. I’ll bet they’re the best yet.”

Tish leaned down and hugged Brian. She was so beautiful, so happy despite their means. He breathed in her optimism and smiled. “Where’s Gideon?”

“Stacking newspapers for Mrs. Jones in zD.”

“Again?” He slid to the edge of the sofa. “Didn’t she do that last week?”

“Hmmm.” Tish lowered her chin. “I’d say someone’s been a little preoccupied.”

Brian’s mind went blank. “What do you mean?”

Dustin slid down and ran upstairs to play. When he was gone, Tish sat on one of Brian’s knees and wove her arms around his neck. “I mean Gideon’s been working for the neighbors ever since that first night at the mission.”

“What? How come I didn’t know about this?”
Why is Gideon working for the neighbors?

“I think she wants it to be a surprise.” Tish nuzzled her face against his. “She makes a quarter every time she brings the mail up for Mrs. Jones and fifty cents for stacking newspapers or dusting.”

Brian’s frustration doubled. “She’s only eight years old, for heaven’s sake, Tish. We can’t have her out working like that. What’s she trying to do?”

“She must need money for something.” Tish gave the end of his nose a light tap. “Don’t worry about her, Brian. She wants to do this. Whatever she’s up to, I figure let’s let her do it. She probably wants to buy a present for someone. If it matters to Gideon, it should matter to us.”

T
he following Monday, Gideon brought a tattered paper bag of change to Brian and made an announcement.

“I need to go to the store.”

Brian kept his expression neutral. “What for, honey?”

“I wanna buy a Christmas present for Earl.”

A strange mix of awe and frustration shot through Brian. “Old Earl, the man at the mission?”

“Yes.” Resolve was written across Gideon’s earnest face. Her excitement was palpable. “For the Christmas dinner at the mission tomorrow. I asked God to make Earl believe again and I decided maybe he needs a present. Maybe no one’s ever given him something for Christmas.”

“Okay.” Brian hesitated. The old man didn’t deserve a gift from Gideon, but how could he tell that to his daughter? “How much money do you have?”

Gideon’s eyes sparkled. “Five dollars and fifteen cents.”

Five dollars and fifteen cents.
The amount was barely enough for a greeting card. Still, Tish was right. If this gift mattered to Gideon that much—no matter what he thought—he could hardly stand in her way. He pulled Gideon into a hug and whispered in her ear, “Alright, sweetie. I think I know just the place.”

Two hours later they were walking out of the secondhand store arm in arm. Swinging from Gideon’s elbow was a gift that had cost every last dime she’d saved. Everything she’d worked for those past two weeks.

When they got home, Gideon asked Tish to help her.

“I wanna sew something inside the gift.”

Tish’s smile was tender and understanding. Brian watched, frustrated.
Better her than me. Too much time and money on the old man.
Gideon’s love was far too precious.

Gideon spent another half hour coloring a picture for Earl. She slipped the gift into a brown paper bag, dropped the picture inside, and tied it shut with a piece of string. Then she decorated the outside with Christmas trees and angels. Smack in the middle she wrote the old man’s name.

Brian and Tish admired it when she was done. “It’s perfect, honey.”

“Think he’ll like it?” Her hopeful eyes searched theirs.

“Like it?” Tish hugged Gideon to her side. “He’ll love it.”

T
he next night at the mission, after they finished serving dinner, Brian and Tish anchored themselves at a table not far from Earl’s and waited. Since the night included a Christmas concert and figured to last longer than the others, Dustin had stayed with a neighbor. The concert had come first, then dinner. Now, with everyone eating, Gideon found the place where she’d hidden her gift, raised it so Brian and Tish could see it, and flashed them a thumbs-up.

Carrying the decorated brown paper sack in front of her, she approached Earl’s table and sat down. “Merry Christmas, Earl.”

Brian could hear their conversation perfectly.
Make him smile. Please.

Earl’s fork froze halfway to his mouth and he lifted his eyes to Gideon. “Get lost.”

Gideon shot Brian and Tish a weak look. Tish motioned to her, encouraging her to go ahead. Gideon stood a little straighter, nodded, and turned back to Earl. Then she lifted the decorated brown bag and set it in front of his plate. “I brought you a Christmas present.”

Earl stared at it. For a long moment Brian actually thought the gift had worked. Then the old man set his fork down. “I hate Christmas. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Yes.” Gideon’s eyes were fixed on his. “You told me you didn’t believe. But believing is the best gift of all and I thought maybe if I gave you a—”

“You thought wrong.” Earl’s voice boomed across the table.

Brian made a move toward the man, but Tish grabbed his arm. “Don’t, Brian.” She shifted her gaze to Gideon. “This is her thing.”

“But she spent all her money on that stupid gift.” His teeth were clenched, his anger so strong it choked him.

“She
wanted
to do this.”

Brian sighed. “You’re right.” He felt the fight simmering within him. They watched Gideon and Earl. Their daughter hadn’t said anything since Earl’s rude interruption.

Now she leaned forward and clasped her hands on the table. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Earl dropped his gaze. “I’ll probably throw it away.”

Again Brian’s muscles tensed.
How dare he.
Even from their spot a few tables away they could see tears building in Gideon’s eyes.

“You can’t throw it away. It’s a Christmas gift. I… I bought it for you.”

Something in their daughter’s voice must have caused the old man to look up. When he saw her sad face he huffed hard. “Fine.” He jerked the bag from the table and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “Happy?”

It took every ounce of Brian’s resolve not to go after the old man and knock him to the floor.

Gideon blinked back the tears. She was trying so hard to be brave. “I-I want you to open it, Earl.”

This rime he snarled at her. “I’m not opening it, okay? Now, leave me alone.” The old man’s eyes looked dead as he lowered his voice. “I hate Christmas, kid. And I hate people like you.”

The shock on Gideon’s face must have startled Earl, as though even he couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He tossed his fork down, pushed back and stood. Then without saying a word, he took five angry strides toward the door and disappeared into the night.

Gideon watched him, her mouth open. When he was gone, she cast a desperate look at Brian and Tish. The pain in her eyes hurt Brian more than anything ever had. They went to her and together wrapped her in a hug.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Tish kissed her cheek and wiped one of her tears.

Brian held Gideon tightly, unable to speak.
God? How could you let this happen? After all her hard work?
He closed his eyes and rested his head on her smaller one.

“He didn’t even open it.” Gideon’s tears were under control. No hysteria or loud sobbing. Just the quiet pain of a little girl whose heart had been broken. It was only then that Brian was struck by something he hadn’t wanted to see before. The dark circles under Gideon’s eyes were back. She looked tired and weak and when he felt her head, his breath caught in his throat.

She was burning up.

Oh, God, no! Don’t let her be sick now.
Brian worked to focus. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart.” He ran his hand along the back of her head. “You did everything you could.”

“But, Daddy, I asked God for a miracle. I thought if I gave Earl a Christmas gift he’d believe again.” She pulled back and searched his eyes, then Tish’s. “How come it didn’t work?”

I
t was a question that hung in the air all that night and threatened to darken everything about the coming Christmas. But Earl’s rudeness paled in comparison with the news they got two days later.

“I’m sorry.” The doctor had asked Gideon to wait in the examination room while he talked to Brian and Tish in his office. Gideon had been so sick that morning, Tish had taken the day off. “Her cancer’s back. Worse than before, more aggressive. I’m going to have to admit her.”

Admit her?
Brian could barely breathe.
No!
It wasn’t fair.
Not Gideon!
His hands and feet felt numb, and the room tilted. Beside him, Tish began to cry.

The doctor looked at an open chart on his desk. “Her younger brother is a perfect match for a bone-marrow transplant.” The doctor’s voice dropped. “At the rate the disease is moving, I think it’s time to do the procedure.”

Brian huffed. “Sure.” He stood and paced to the office window. “How are we supposed to pay for it?” He turned and met the doctor’s eyes. “We don’t have insurance; you know that.”

“Yes.” The doctor crossed his arms. “I’ve gotten the okay from the hospital. We can do it for twenty-five thousand. That’s below cost, Mr. Mercer.” He hesitated. “We could get started with half that much.”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars?” A sound that was more sob than laugh came from his throat. “Sir, I don’t have twenty-five
dollars.”

“Is there any other way?” Tish folded her arms tight around her waist. “Anything we can do to raise the money?”

“Yes.” The doctor reached for a brochure and handed it to her. “You can hold a fund-raiser. Many families do that as a way of paying for the transplant.”

“And if we don’t get enough?” Brian’s body trembled, battling an onslaught of fear and anger, confusion and heartache.

“We’ll start chemotherapy immediately, just like before.” The doctor grimaced. “If we’re lucky she might slip back into remission.”

“If that happens, Doctor, luck won’t have anything to do with it.” Tish clutched the fund-raising information tightly to her chest. There was a determination in her eyes Brian had never seen before. She stood and moved toward the door. “I need to be with Gideon.”

When Tish was gone, Brian locked eyes with the doctor. “Be straight with me, Doc. How bad is it?”

“She needs a transplant, Mr. Mercer.” The man blinked and Brian could see he was considering how much to say. Finally he sighed and shook his head. “She doesn’t have much time.”