Page 55 of Hide My Heart
“Oh, Nate!” My mouth drops open and I’m aware my father is videoing the moment. “Is this a dream come true?”
He nods and slips the ring on my finger. “I have so many dreams for us to live, and I want you by my side. My mom and I are selling the Redbird and Bluebird, and I’m going to be a partner with my Uncle Joe’s adventure touring outfit up on Lake Coeur d’Alene. I hope you’ll want to start a new life up there with me as my best friend, lover, and wife.”
I’m nodding already, holding a squirming Beck who gurgles and smiles at Nate. “Yes, yes, I will marry you.”
My gaze locks with Nate’s and I know in my heart and soul, that this lost woman has finally come home.
Epilogue
AMBER
It’s Christmas morning and soft,powdery snow falls steadily over the town of Divine, Idaho. The evergreens stand straight and tall, and Christmas lights twinkle among the snow-covered boughs.
I wipe the window clean of frost so Grandma can see the decorations from her bed. She’s living with my parents on hospice care, and I’ve been her constant companion—actually Beck and I, and sometimes Nate.
“See that, big boy?” Grandma holds Beck so his little nose is pressed against the window. “It’s snowing. A great day for sledding and snowball fights. You’ll make a snowman just for me, won’t you? And one day, you’ll put on hockey skates and race across the pond. You’ll grow up big and strong, a man of God, and make your mother proud.”
I blink back tears as I etch the scene into my memory. I’ve been doing that a lot, lately.
Beck laughs and chortles, turning his clear-blue eyes toward her face. He brings such joy to all of us, but especially to Grandma. New life is the hope that springs from old life, and even though my heart aches at having to say “goodbye” to Grandma, I treasure the second chance I’ve been given and all the moments I have with her.
“Shall we teach him our favorite Christmas carol?” Grandma makes his hands rattle against the windowpane. “Ah, rump, pa, pum, pum.”
I sing along with her as Beck smiles and laughs, and then the door opens and the rest of my family crowd in.
Grandma gets tired easily, and she’s so small and frail, but her gaze is bright and her blue eyes still penetrating.
“Come in, crowd right on in, and let Grandma tell you a Christmas story,” she says, her voice thin and reedy.
She touches hands, shares kisses and hugs, and then when everyone settles down, she begins the McKay family Christmas story.
“Once, a very long time ago, when the McKays lived on the wide, vast prairie, there was a little girl named Mary McKay. Now, Mary was neither a good girl or a bad girl. She was in-between, like a lot of us.”
Grandma moves her gaze around the room, making everyone feel she’s speaking directly to them.
I swallow, because I know what’s coming up, and yes, I’m neither good nor bad, or sometimes good, and many times bad.
“Anyway, Mary wanted a fancy porcelain doll for Christmas. One with pretty velvet dresses, hair made of real human hair, shoes made of calfskin leather, and eyes that opened and closed,” Grandma continued. “Mary asked Santa many times for the beautiful doll she wanted.
“But every year, Santa brought Mary something different: a rag doll, or a cornhusk doll, or a peg wooden doll. One year, she even got a doll made of dried apples.”
Grandma smiles as she takes in our rapt attention.
“Mary was very disappointed, and she began to believe Santa hated her. She stopped doing her chores. She talked back to her mother and she was a real sourpuss the entire year. Being good is no use, she thought. Since I never get what I want.”
Grandma pauses, and I hold a water cup with a straw to her lips.
After she takes a sip, she continues, “One day, when Mary’s mother took her to the general store, Mary discovered a new doll sitting in the window. She was everything Mary had dreamt of. Long blond, curling hair, red ribbons on her velvet dress, beautiful blue eyes, real leather shoes, and a silk hat with fur trim. Mary wanted the doll so badly, but when she asked Santa for it, he said the doll was going to a special little girl, and he couldn’t tell her who.
“Mary was jealous and spiteful of the little girl who was getting such a fabulous creature from Santa. Why was it that she, who asked him nicely every year, was relegated to junky dolls she didn’t want? Every time Mary’s mother took her to the store, Mary would stare at the doll and get madder and more jealous of the lucky little girl.”
I shift uneasily at the edge of the bed. Beck, lulled by Grandma’s voice, has fallen asleep and is snoring softly.
Everyone else is mesmerized, even though we all know the story by heart.
“One day, Mary had enough of being nice and waiting for Santa to hear her. She tucked a gunny sack under her skirt to the general store, and when her mother and the storekeeper weren’t looking, she plucked the beautiful porcelain doll and put her in the gunny sack. Then, because she didn’t want to get caught, she ran away with her perfect porcelain doll.”
Grandma’s voice grows thinner and she stops for breath, coughing lightly. I offer her the water, but she shakes her head and waves me off. “I’m tired. Amber, please tell the rest of it.”
