The Christmas Gift. Darlene Gardner

mother’s voice had sounded thin, reedy and very far away. “Krista, I’m in the hospital.”

      Krista had bolted to a sitting position, coming jarringly awake. Her heart had thumped so hard it felt like the bed in her one-bedroom flat was shaking. “What’s wrong?”

      “I was, um, bleeding,” her mother said.

      A memory of Krista’s father lying bent and broken flashed in Krista’s mind. She imagined her mother tumbling down a flight of stairs, slipping on a patch of ice, accidentally gashing herself with a cooking knife.

      “Are you all right?” Krista heard the panic in her own voice and tried to tamp it down. “Was it an accident?”

      “No, no. Nothing like that,” her mother said. “It was, um, internal.”

      Internal bleeding!

      “Do you need me to come home?” Krista asked.

      Her mother hadn’t hesitated. “Oh, yes, dear. That would be wonderful.”

      A nurse had entered her mother’s hospital room then, cutting their conversation short. As soon as Krista hung up the phone, she’d booted up her computer and booked a flight to Pennsylvania that left at six that morning. Then she’d contacted one of the friends she was supposed to meet in a few days’ time for a skiing trip in the Swiss Alps to let her know what was going on.

      The cab driver swung Krista’s suitcase from the trunk and told her how much the fare was.

      “Could you wait for me? I need you to drive me to the hospital, too.” Krista’s mind was so fuzzy after a full day of traveling, she couldn’t be sure if she’d mentioned it. Although it wasn’t yet 7:00 p.m. in Pennsylvania, it was nearly 1:00 a.m. body time. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to drop off this suitcase.”

      “The hospital?” the driver repeated, but Krista was already rolling the suitcase up a sidewalk lined with toy soldiers and past a hippo with a red bow tied around its neck.

      Krista supposed she could have asked somebody, possibly her grandmother, to make the twenty-minute drive to the Harrisburg airport to pick her up when no rental cars were available. With her parents’ house in Jarrell en route to the hospital, though, it seemed to make more sense to hire a cab. Especially because Krista had discovered her cell phone was dead as she dashed to make her second connecting flight in Philadelphia.

      Once Krista dropped off her luggage, the cab driver should get her to the hospital in plenty of time for visiting hours. The last she’d checked on her mother’s condition, during the layover that morning in Frankfurt, her mother was stable. Krista expected her family to be at the hospital although somebody was obviously home or the lights wouldn’t be blazing.

      Krista dragged her suitcase up the handicap ramp and stopped in front of a door partially obscured by an enormous wreath. The doorbell was doubling as a snowman’s button nose. Should Krista ring it? What was the protocol when you were the prodigal daughter?

      A blast of wind almost blew Krista over. She shivered, deciding she was being ridiculous. Drawing in a deep breath of pine-scented air, she pushed open the door and stepped onto the tiny tiled foyer that opened into the living room.

      It was empty aside from a floor-to-ceiling Christmas tree wrapped in gold garland and cloaked by twinkling lights and ornaments. Holly and a strand of lit plastic Santa heads outlined the fireplace. About the only tasteful thing in the room was a gorgeous framed photo Krista had never seen before of a field of wildflowers under a clear blue sky.

      The scents and sounds of Christmas past assaulted Krista: honey ham, freshly baked bread, apple cider, instrumental Christmas carols, voices drifting from the kitchen.

      “Hello? I’m ho—” Krista stopped midshout. Pennsylvania hadn’t been home in a very long time. “I’m here.”

      Nobody answered, which wasn’t surprising considering the noise level. Krista pulled her suitcase into the living room and headed for the large kitchen at the back of the house, her high-heeled winter boots clicking on the hardwood.

      She passed under the mistletoe hanging from the archway leading to the kitchen and stopped dead.

      Krista’s grandmother, considerably older and possibly even shorter than when Krista had last seen her, was at the stove stirring a pot of soup. Grandma had moved in with the family after she was widowed two decades ago to help care for Krista and her younger sister, Rayna, and never left.

      Sitting on a chair at the butcher-block table overseeing the entire operation was Krista’s mother. For a moment, Krista couldn’t speak.

      “Mom!” she finally blurted out. “What are you doing out of the hospital?”

      Both women turned at the sound of her voice. Grandma gaped at Krista as if she’d materialized out of thin air. Her mother smiled and clapped her hands.

      “Krista! You came!” Her mother opened her arms but didn’t get up. She looked wan, and a crocheted shawl covered her shoulders.

      Krista crossed the room and bent down to embrace her mother, relief making her knees weak. Unshed tears burned the backs of her eyes. “Of course I came.”

      Her mother hugged Krista tight, enveloping her daughter in warmth. A few seconds passed before it dawned on Krista that her mother’s grip was not that of a sick woman. She drew back, examining her mother more closely.

      Aside from the paleness of her complexion, Krista’s mother seemed much the same as she always had. A tall, big-boned woman with dark hair showing no trace of gray, Eleanor Novak had always filled up a room with her presence.

      “I thought you were bleeding internally,” Krista said.

      “So that’s how you got our Krista to come home, Ellie.” Krista’s grandmother addressed her daughter-in-law but hurried from the stove to Krista’s side. At about five feet tall and one hundred pounds with hair that was completely white, Krista’s grandmother had an elfish charm. She added to it by wearing a Rudolph-the-reindeer shirt.

      “Hey, Grandma.” Krista bent down to hug the older lady while trying to make sense of her comment.

      “I missed you, sweet girl,” Grandma said. “We all did.”

      Krista felt her eyes grow moist except things weren’t adding up. She drew back from the hug and swung her gaze to her mother. “I don’t understand. Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

      Her mother’s eyes shifted.

      “Ellie was discharged this morning,” Grandma said. Great news, but Krista couldn’t make sense of it. “We’re having a celebration dinner. Now the only one missing will be Rayna.”

      Krista’s sister had only been thirteen when Krista moved away. Krista wondered where Rayna was, but another question was more pressing.

      “What about the internal bleeding, Mom?” Krista asked.

      Her mother still wouldn’t meet Krista’s eyes. “It stopped a few days ago. The medication they have nowadays is amazing.”

      “Most people with bleeding ulcers recover fast,” Grandma said. “The doctor told Ellie this morning she’s already almost as good as new.”

      “This morning? But last night, you made it seem like you were really sick.” Krista collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs. “How could you do that? I thought you were dying.”

      “Okay, so it wasn’t my finest moment.” Her mother did not sound sorry. “But it’s been eight years, Krista. How else was I supposed to get you home for the holidays?”

      “You could have asked,” Krista said.

      “I ask every year,” her mother said. “You never come.”

      The radio tuned to the station that played all Christmas carols, all the time, was between songs. In the rare moment of silence, Krista heard the unmistakable