One More for Christmas(25)

“Right. That’s horrible.” Ella fiddled with her scarf. “Are they keeping you in?”

“For tonight.” Why were both girls still hovering? Were they braced to race through the door if she said something wrong? “Why don’t you take off your coat and gloves and sit down?”

“I—gloves? No.” Ella wrapped her arms around her waist. “I have—cold hands.”

“But it’s so hot in this room.”

“I’m fine. I’m not hot.”

Don’t argue, Gayle. Don’t argue.

Kind.

“Won’t you at least sit down?”

Ella sat without question. She rubbed her hands nervously along her legs. “Have they said when you’ll be discharged? Will you need someone to take care of you at home? We should sort something out. But only if you want that, of course.”

It was the first moment of brightness in a dark, dark day.

Gayle felt her heart give a little lift.

Ella was going to offer to stay with her. It would give Gayle a chance to try and mend what she’d broken. And maybe Ella would be able to get through to Samantha.

“That’s a kind offer. I—”

“I’ve already called a nursing agency.” Samantha glanced at her phone. “My phone was on silent, but they called back a moment ago and left a message.”

A nursing agency.

Some uniformed stranger would bring her a glass of water in the night and check she wasn’t dead. A transactional arrangement, devoid of care or emotion.

Given the practical way she’d conducted her life up to this point, it shouldn’t have bothered her, but it did.

She no longer wanted it to be like this. She wanted people to care. She wanted to have “loved ones.”

But she knew that the only one who could change the situation was her.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Samantha looked at her, wary. “You asked to see us. Was there a reason?”

She was injured. They were her only family. Wasn’t that enough?

No, no it wasn’t.

“I wanted to apologize.” Up until that moment she hadn’t realized that was what she wanted, but she knew it now. She would do whatever it took to fix this situation. And it was true she was sorry for the way things had turned out, even if she wasn’t exactly sorry for the way she’d raised them. They didn’t know the truth, of course. She hadn’t shared that. She’d told them all they needed to know and not a single word more. The rest she’d tucked away inside her, like crumbs under a carpet.

What mattered here wasn’t the past, but the future. Today was all about putting the first stitch in the serious tear in the relationship. “I wanted to say I was sorry for what happened last time we were together. I’m sorry I upset you.” Gayle desperately wanted a drink of water to moisten her dry throat. She reached for it but Ella was there first, her hands round the cup holding it steady so Gayle could drink.

“There.” Ella’s voice was gentle. “I presume you are allowed to drink?”

Gayle nodded and sipped, encouraged by her daughter’s instinctive move to help her. Maybe there was hope.

Samantha by contrast was tense. Wary.

Gayle knew that if there was to be any chance of reconciliation, it had to be through Ella.

“Tell me about your teaching.”

Ella froze. “Oh. Well...” Her gaze flickered to her sister. “I love teaching.”

Too late Gayle remembered that she’d promised Samantha that she wouldn’t mention Ella’s job. But she was being encouraging and positive, so surely that made it all right?

“I’m glad you found something that works for you. But the most important thing is that you stuck at something. That’s good, too.”

Samantha’s eyes narrowed. “Mom—”

“All I’m saying is that I’m sure there have been times when it has been tough. Teaching can be stressful, I’m sure, but here she is, still teaching.” What had Samantha said? That Ella didn’t feel her mother was proud? “I’m proud of you.” She used the exact words. Said them loud and clear. “Proud that you found something you love and stuck with it.”

Ella slid a finger around the neck of her dress.

Gayle could see a sheen of sweat on her brow, but still Ella kept her gloves on.

This was painful for everyone. So stiff and unnatural.

Gathering together in this sterile hospital room wasn’t anyone’s idea of a fun reunion. This place might heal people, but it didn’t heal relationships. It didn’t fix families.

What should she do? What could she do? The only way to convince them of how badly she wanted to fix things was to show them. Prove she was genuine and committed in her intention to heal the rift. And to do that she needed time. How was she going to engineer that?

What excuse could she make for a family gathering that lasted longer than a courtesy hospital visit?

Out of nowhere she thought about that young journalist, Rochelle.

I just love a big family gathering. Massive tree. Gifts in front of the fire.

At the time, Gayle had been typically evasive in her answer, knowing that on Christmas Day she’d be doing what she did every other day of the year. Working. Her girls had always hated that about her. Surrounded by friends whose families had yielded to commercial pressures and expectations, they’d begged her for gifts, for a tree, for a trip to the ice rink, for fairy lights and a snow globe. She’d said no to all of it, of course, because Christmas was a particularly difficult time of year for her. She handled it by working, her goal to block it out and make it seem like any other day. She didn’t stare wistfully through other people’s windows. She didn’t allow herself to feel envious or sad, and she definitely didn’t look back. Instead she made a point of focusing on her own life. Working at least had a purpose, which was more than could be said for a snow globe.