Cracks in the Sidewalk(74)

Christmas appeared everywhere. Red candles surrounded by pinecones became centerpieces, candied fruit appeared in glass dishes, and gaily-wrapped presents crowded the hall closet. On the seventeenth a chunky chair disappeared from the living room and a Frasier Fir replaced it, sweetening the room with the scent of a forest. That evening Claire made a pot of hot chocolate and Charlie carried six boxes of decorations up from the basement. Elizabeth, in her wheelchair, joined the tree-trimming party and sang along as Bing Crosby wished for a white Christmas.

Using only her right hand, she wrapped most of her own presents. For Claire, there was the crystal perfume bottle that she’d had Charlie buy and for him the briarwood pipe Claire bought. For the children there was any number of books and toys. She’d gotten almost everything they’d asked for, except the one thing Kimberly wanted most.

“Mommy,” she’d said, “would you help me write a letter to Santa? I want a Cabbage Patch baby with yellow hair.”

“Okay,” Elizabeth answered. “But do you think maybe Daddy is going to buy you a Cabbage Patch Doll?”

“He’s not.” Kimberly’s face had a knowing look far too grownup for any four-year-old. “Daddy said they’re ugly.”

“Even the ones with yellow hair?”

Kimberly nodded.

“Well, then, we’d better hurry up and write a letter to Santa!”

“Thank you, Mommy!” Kimberly cried and threw herself onto Elizabeth’s lap. With her tiny little arms hugging as hard as possible, she added, “You’re the best mommy in the whole world.”

As it turned out, finding a Cabbage Patch baby became an impossible task.

“Have you tried Toy Mart?” Liz asked.

Claire nodded. “Yesterday.”

“What about Steiner’s Toys?”

“They don’t have it either.”

“The Drug Emporium?”

“Sold out.”

Elizabeth began to telephone stores—somebody had to have a yellow-haired Cabbage Patch doll. She called toy stores, variety stores, department stores, discount stores, and drug stores, but every store had sold out weeks earlier. She began to pray for a miracle.

Ten days before Christmas Elizabeth called all the stores back. “I thought maybe there was a chance you’d gotten more in,” she said.

“Don’t I wish,” one shop owner replied. “I could sell another fifty!”

Elizabeth began leaving her name and telephone number. “If you get one with yellow hair, please call me,” she said. But no one called.

Two days before Christmas, when the stores were crowded to bursting, Elizabeth had Claire load her and her wheelchair into the car and head for Tykes N’ Teens in Westfield. After a painstaking ninety minutes, Elizabeth emerged with three dolls—a stand-up little girl nearly as tall as Kimberly, a baby with painted yellow hair, and a bald-headed baby wrapped in a pink bunting—none of which resembled the full-cheeked Cabbage Patch Kids.

That year Christmas fell on a Wednesday, and Elizabeth had hoped to give the children their gifts the Sunday before, but Jeffrey called and said he wouldn’t bring them. “They’re all sick,” he said. “Some kind of flu, they’re puking all over the place.”

“Sick, huh?” Charlie said.

“Yeah, sick. If you don’t believe me, I can bring over a bucket of puke and prove it!”

“That’s not necessary,” Charlie said begrudgingly. “Just make sure you get all three of them here next week so Liz can give them their presents.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Christmas morning dawned with a gray sky promising snow and a bitter wind toppling plastic snowmen and whisking outdoor wreaths from their hooks. Elizabeth had listened to the ominous howl of the wind through much of the night and when she finally did fall asleep she dreamt of pudgy-faced Cabbage Patch kids running away from her. She slept right through Claire’s sausage pancakes and didn’t stir until nearly noon. By then the snow had begun to fall.

“It looks so beautiful,” Elizabeth said with melancholy in her voice.

“It’s only three more days until the kids will be here,” Claire said. “Why don’t we wait and celebrate our Christmas with them?”

Elizabeth’s eyes brightened. “What a great idea!”

“I’m all for it,” Charlie added.

Claire set aside the turkey and prepared a meatloaf. At five o’clock that afternoon the McDermott family had a simple family dinner. After they’d eaten, Elizabeth, who’d been nursing a headache for three days, returned to bed.

The Christmas snow had disappeared by Thursday morning, but gray skies hovered overhead.

“It looks like we’ll get more snow,” Elizabeth said apprehensively.

“I doubt it,” Charlie replied. “It’s too cold for snow.”

But late Friday afternoon it began to snow again. By nine o’clock almost two inches had fallen. At ten o’clock Charlie pulled on a parka, tugged a wool cap over his ears, and shoveled the walkway. When he returned to the house stomping snow from his boots he commented, “It’s a light snow, nothing to worry about.”

On Saturday morning Westfield awoke to eighteen inches of snow piled high against doors. It covered walkways and brought travel to a standstill. Walt Berringer, the weather forecaster, explained how an unexpected storm front had drifted down from Canada and stalled overhead.