Upon a Midnight Clear. Gail Martin Gaymer

as Callie’s would be when she stepped into David Hamilton’s home in Bedford. He was the last person she wanted to have know the fear that writhed inside her. She would step through the doorway with a charade of confidence. She had announced with no uncertainty that she could provide professional, compassionate care for Nattie. And she would.

      The sound of Grace’s unhappy voice echoed in Callie’s head. “Bedford is too far away. Why must you be a live-in nurse? What if I need you? Dr. Swanson, right here in town, still needs an office nurse.” She’d heard the same questions and comments since she chose home-care. Tomorrow, another day—a new beginning.

      Though she hadn’t finished packing, Callie’s thoughts dragged through her, sapping her energy. A good night’s sleep would refresh her, she thought. With that notion, she crawled into bed.

      But Callie couldn’t escape her dream. It soon rose in her slumber, shrouded in darkness and mist.

      In a foggy blur, his stare toyed with her, sweeping her body from head to toe, and her flush of excitement deepened to embarrassment. His smooth voice like a distant whisper echoed in her head. “Callie. That’s a lovely, lovely name. Nearly pretty as you are, sweetheart.”

      An uneasy sensation rose in her, unexpected and unnatural. Why was he teasing her with his eyes? She felt self-conscious.

      In the swirling darkness, he flashed his broad, charming smile, and his hushed voice touched her ear again. “You’re nervous. No need to be nervous.” He turned the bolt on the door.

      The click of the lock cut through her sleep. Callie wrested herself from the blackness of her dream to the darkness of her room.

      “Bedford’s only a couple hours away, Mom. I told you already, I can get back here if you need me.” Packing the last suitcase the next morning, Callie glanced over her shoulder at Grace. “I don’t understand why you’re worried. You’ve never needed me yet.”

      Grace leaned against the door frame. “Well, I get older every year. You never know.” Grace’s pinched expression gave witness to her unhappiness.

      Callie bit back the words that could easily have sailed from her lips: Only the good die young. Her mother was well-meaning, she knew that, but Callie found a chip growing on her shoulder when she spent too much time with Grace. She needed to keep that situation in her prayers—only God could work a miracle.

      Callie chuckled out loud. “We have the same problem, Mom. I seem to get older every year myself. Any idea how we can fix that?”

      Grace’s compressed features gave way to a grin. “Can’t do much, I suppose. I just worry. Your sister lives thousands of miles away. Kenneth is useless. Sons don’t care much about their mothers.”

      “If you need Ken, he can be here in a minute. But you have to call him and let him know. Men just aren’t as attentive as women.” Guilt swept over her. She hadn’t been very attentive, either. And Grace was right—though she wasn’t ready for the grave, they had celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday. And no one was getting any younger.

      A sudden feeling of tenderness swept over her. She was her parents’ “surprise” baby. At the age of forty, Grace had her “babies” raised. Patricia was fourteen, and Ken, eleven. Then came Callie, who was soon deemed the “little princess.” All her parents’ unfulfilled hopes and dreams were bundled into her. She had let them down with a bang.

      A heavy silence hung in the room as Callie placed the last few items in her luggage. When she snapped the locks, she turned and faced her mother. “Well, I guess that’s it. I may need a few other things, but I’m not that far away. And at this point, I’m not sure how long I’ll be needed.”

      The words caught in her throat. Already, the face of Nattie loomed in her mind. Her greatest fear was beginning to take shape. This child would continue to linger in her thoughts when her job was completed in Bedford. And could she walk away from another child? She prayed she could handle it.

      Grace stood at the doorway, her hands knotted in front of her. “You’ll be coming back occasionally? So I’ll see you once in a while, then?”

      “Well, sure. I’m not chained to the house. At least, I don’t think so.” She grinned at Grace, trying to keep her parting light. Most of her previous patients had lived in the area. Living in Bedford would make trips home a bit more complicated.

      Grace heaved a sigh and lifted her smaller bag. Callie grabbed the larger piece of luggage and followed her mother down the stairs and out the door.

      As Callie loaded her car, she shuddered, thinking of her dream the night before. She drew the chilled, winter air through her lungs, clearing her thoughts. She stood for a moment, staring at the house where her parents had lived for most of her life, remembering…

      When she returned inside, Grace had lunch waiting on the table. Seeing the food as another attempt to delay her, Callie wanted to say “no, thank you,” but she had to eat somewhere. Noting her mother’s forlorn expression, she sat at the table.

      “Thanks, this will save time. I should arrive in Bedford in the mid-afternoon, if the weather cooperates. I’ll have a chance to get settled before dinner.” She bit into her sandwich.

      Grace raised the tuna salad to her lips, then lowered it. “Are you sure you’re safe with this man, Callie? He saw your references, but did you see his?”

      Callie understood her mother’s concern. “I think seeing his daughter is reference enough. He’s not an outgoing, friendly man. I saw so much sadness in his eyes. Anyway, he has a full-time housekeeper who lives in. She looked comfortable enough. Though once I’m there, I imagine she’ll enjoy having the opportunity to go home.” Callie sipped her tea.

      “You mean you have to keep house, too?”

      Callie choked on her sip of tea. She quickly grabbed up her napkin to cover her mouth. “No, Mother. Agnes is from the community. She’ll be able to go home and visit her family. Since I’m there, she won’t have the responsibility to be the nanny. That’s all. He says I’ll have my own suite of rooms—bedroom, private bath and a little sitting room. And I’ll have dinner with the family. Now, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

      Grace raised an eyebrow. “What kind of business is this man in to afford such a big home and all this help?”

      “Limestone quarries and mills. They’ve been in the family for generations. His grandfather opened a quarry in the middle eighteen-hundreds, I think. Eventually his father took over.”

      “Family business, hmm? Must be a good one to keep generations at it.”

      “It is. I was really amazed. I picked up some brochures at the Chamber of Commerce office on my way out of town. So many famous buildings were made with Indiana limestone—the Pentagon, the Empire State Building, lots of buildings in Washington, D.C. So I’d say the family has enough money to get by.”

      Grace grinned. “To get by? I’d say. One of those aristocratic families…with money to throw away.”

      “Not really. It’s a beautiful house, but David seems down to earth.”

      “David? What’s this ‘David’ business?”

      “Mother.” Callie rolled her eyes, yet heat rose up her neck at her mother’s scrutiny. “Since we’re living in the same house, I suppose he thought ‘Miss Randolph’ and ‘Mr. Hamilton’ sounded too formal.”

      “A little formality never hurt anybody.”

      “I’m an employee, Mom. And he has no interest in me. The man’s not over the death of his wife.”

      “Accident?”

      Callie’s brows knitted. “I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. I’d already asked too many questions for someone who was supposed to be the person interviewed.”

      “Never hurts to ask questions.”

      “I’m