The Parting Gift(27)

“That makes sense now. He said something about ‘Christmas Eve just like it used to be,’” she replied.

She felt him move from the doorway and step into place beside her. The heat from his body radiated to her, causing her heart to beat faster. The memory of last night was still vivid in her mind.

“Can I help you with anything?” he offered. He wasn’t avoiding her this time. In fact, his proximity was quite the opposite, and was having a dizzying effect.

“How about making a plate for your father?” Mara suggested, trying to steady her breathing. “The tray is by the sink.”

He glanced around the kitchen as if in thought. “What if we bring him down here this morning? Do you think it would be too much?”

Still avoiding his gaze, Mara nodded and continued to fidget with the frying bacon, turning it over and over repeatedly. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. It’s been awhile since he’s been downstairs for a meal. It will lift his spirits.”

Blaine slid his hands in his pockets and watched her compulsive turning of the bacon. “I think it would cook faster if you let it sit a little longer.”

She cast him a sidelong glance and chuckled. “I suppose it would at that.” So he had noticed her nervousness.

His gaze on her lasted a moment longer. Finally he said, “I’ll go get Pop. The smell of that bacon probably already has him drooling. Are you able to leave the cooking long enough to set up a seat for him? I don’t want to take you away from all that bacon turning. You are in quite the rhythm.”

Furrowing her brow, she raised her spatula and pointed it at him. “You get out of here before I use this thing on you!” Then to show her intent, she took a step toward him, and he darted out of the room laughing. He was likely trying to set her at ease. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

A vision of Blaine wrapping her up in his arms flashed in her mind, sending her mind reeling. She opened her eyes instantly. What is wrong with me? Christian girls don’t think about things like that! The guilt burned on her cheeks.



****



Upstairs, the smell of bacon was tantalizing poor David. He was too weak to walk down the stairs under his own power, or he would have already had three or four helpings by now. It was torture to have to wait it out.

The tromping on the stairs sounded like Blaine. A light knock, and Blaine poked his head around the door. “Hey, Pop.” The cheery tone in his son’s voice brought a smile to David’s lips.

“Good morning, son.”

“That bacon sure smells good, doesn’t it? I figured you’d be half crazed with hunger by now.”

“Almost am. If I had legs under me, I would’ve already been down there fighting you for the last piece.”

“Would you like to join us downstairs this morning then?”

David couldn’t help his wide grin. “You bet I would!” The idea of getting out of his prison-like room for a bit sounded like heaven on earth, though the irony of that comparison was not lost on him.

In the last month, he had gone from being able to walk down the driveway and back to moving only the distance from one room to the next to not having the strength to stand on his own. He knew his time was short. Today, for some strange reason, he seemed to have more energy. Ordinarily, the brief exchange he had just had would have worn him out.

Perhaps it was the anticipation of Christmas Eve breakfast, the sweet fragrance of Emily’s bacon floating through the house.

As Blaine lifted him carefully, David felt a rush of shame in his own weakness. It had been the most difficult thing about his illness. The blow to his pride in the loss of his physical independence was humiliating, but his son’s strength, and his willingness to lend it to his father, bolstered David’s spirit. It reminded him of what God did for him on a daily basis. When we are weak, He is strong, he thought. David was only sorry he’d had to learn that lesson the hard way.

“You’re looking well this morning, Mr. Graham,” Mara chirped as they entered the kitchen. “Your color is good. How are you feeling?” He smiled weakly in response. She set down her spatula and wiped her hands on her apron. “I fixed up a nice place for you here in the corner. Breakfast will be on the table shortly.”

His son set him gingerly on the chair and proceeded to tuck his blankets around him. “How’s that, Pop?” he asked.

David nodded. “Fine,” he wheezed. His lungs were hurting again, and his hand went involuntarily to his chest.

Blaine stepped to the counter to fill a plate for him. His nearness seemed to have an effect on Mara, who appeared flustered by it. She picked up her spatula again and David could see her shoulders rise and fall in shallow breaths. The sight made his lungs hurt even more.

His son seemed to be taking his time making the plate too, casting nervous glances at the girl between each spoonful of eggs. A sudden vision of a church picnic long ago flickered in his memory. He remembered those looks, the nervous tension between them. He missed Emily, but soon he’d be with her again. It wouldn’t be long. David could feel her nearness even now.

He cleared his throat to get their attention. By the way they both jumped, they had forgotten he was in the room. “I don’t eat as much as I used to.” He raised a spindly finger to gesture at the plate his son held. “Half of that is plenty.”