Page 36 of Season of Gifts

“And I’ll tell him I’m in excellent hands.”He kissed her cheek, sealing a solemn pact not to worry their dominant.Henry had plenty on his plate.Not the enjoyable feast they had ahead of them.

Chapter twenty

Henry

Thedaybedintheconservatory was far from Henry’s first choice for Mother’s recuperation.The intent, to limit stairs, was sound; he couldn’t disagree with the premise.

“The music room would be far cozier.”Though without a fire; the woodsmoke might bother her lungs.He stepped slowly, matching her pace into the house.The doctor had recommended carefully resuming normal activities in addition to the cardiac rehabilitation program Mother would start Monday.“Allow me to move the daybed there, and we’ll listen to Handel and begin holiday preparations.”

Today was the twelfth already; half the Christmas calendar gone.Six days since he’d kissed his spouses and flown out the door.The clothing he’d brought was on its second wearing.

“Have me nesting in the midst of our Christmas cheer?Faugh.I want—” She paused at the cross hall, near the foot of the stairs, breathing heavily.“Gaze at the garden.Sketch.Be myself.”

Walking and talking in combination strained her body’s meager resources.The situation would improve, the doctor had assured him.In a few weeks.In three or four months, perhaps, she would be restored to her usual vigor.The limits would be frustrating; he would not further constrain her choices.

“The conservatory it is.”He projected more merriment than his soul encompassed.“Speak to the plants as you like—I daresay they’ll be delighted to produce additional oxygen to aid in your recovery.”

The sunlight, wan though it was in winter, would help as well.The discharge from the hospital had taken more time than expected, but darkness wouldn’t fall for another two hours yet.

“They ought to.”She signaled him forward with a shaky nod.“Uncounted years I’ve fed and watered and tended their needs.About time they did more than look pretty.”

“Their beauty is all your doing,” he murmured in soothing agreement.Mood changes had featured prominently on the doctor’s list of post-cardiac-event behaviors to expect.Mother might grow angry, bitter, depressed, lonely….“Lina promised to come by this afternoon for a visit.Perhaps a nap in the music room while I arrange your temporary quarters, and then tea overlooking the garden?”

She consented with a soft hum, and he settled her on the sofa with pillows and a double layer of blankets.Her fingertips chilled him as he clasped her hands.The back of her hand bore an aubergine and olive bruise from the IV line.“Shall I bring you anything?A drink, a snack, an amusement?”

“Your presence is gift enough.”Eyes crinkling, she patted his hand.“It is to my great sorrow that I’ve stolen you from Alice and Jay this last week.But I confess I am not certain how I would have managed without you to keep me company.”Her lips twitched; a bright sheen covered her eyes like morning dew on the grass.“Hospitals and I are not hospitable companions.”

Nor should they be, with all she had endured.Expressing relief at being by her side this time would send them down a corridor of memory best left shut.He chuffed agreeably at her wordplay instead.

“One hopes being home is more restful and healing.”He tucked the blankets and kissed her forehead.“I’ll return shortly to show you to your new garden suite.”

Mother chuckled, her eyes already closing as he tuned in the classical station at low volume.“Thank you, darling.”

He laid down fine flannel sheets on the daybed and altogether too many additional coverlets.He couldn’t have her hunting for extra warmth in the middle of the night.He had no overnight nursing care, nor even any daily aides as yet to assist with bathing and dressing.He added fresh nightclothes to the bed.Back and forth, a dozen times or more, up and down the stairs, he hauled personal necessities from her bedroom to the conservatory.The tasks might have been shorter if not for his repeated detours through the music room.A silent ghost, he watched the blankets rise and fall with her breath.

The greenery in the conservatory compensated for the stark view of the garden, its trees offering up spindly limbs robbed of their summer finery.He pressed an unused plant stand into service as a night table and angled a chaise near enough for easy conversation.A blanket thrown across the top would serve as his own bedding.

Satisfied, he checked on Mother once more before beginning work on teatime treats.The three-tiered serving platter, yes, with a mix of savory and sweet to tempt her appetite.Losing himself in the familiar motions, he ached for the sweet cheer of Jay’s after-work patter and the teasing thefts of just-completed items.Alice would click across the tile with a thundering exhale, rolling her neck and shoulders, shaking off the stresses of the day.

He'd not called until late last night, expecting to catch them exhilarated from the light show.They hadn’t used the zoo passes, following some sort of mishap in the kitchen.But they’d found an admirable replacement, assuring him all remained well there, inquiring about Mother’s health and when they might visit.

He’d deflected without intending to, yet once he explained the need for more time to establish a routine, his bounding heart rate had slowed.Simultaneously fulfilling all of his roles was currently a frustrating impossibility.Jay had sent another photo this morning, to which he’d managed a reply between rounds of paperwork and medical staff visits.

The doorbell rang, and he narrowly escaped injuring himself slicing a final sandwich into triangles.Careless.Unlike him, and unworthy of a caretaker who needed his wits about him to ensure Mother’s health and safety.

Lina, waiting on the stoop, schooled her face into an anxious smile as he swung open the door.“Henry.”

“Come in, come in”—he accepted her hug and shut out the cold behind them—“Mother will be fresh from her nap and eager to see a face that isn’t carrying out some medical test.”

“How is she?”Lina whispered, shrugging out of her coat and shoving her mittens into one sleeve.“And you?”

“No complaints thus far.”He kept his tone light, a refraction across soap bubbles floating on a summer afternoon.“I do hope she’ll eat more now that she’s home and not consuming calories as a perfunctory performance for the staff.”Hanging up Lina’s coat, he tipped his head toward the hall.“She’s in the music room.I’ll start the water boiling for tea.”

The countertop kettle set to work quickly.Above its low hum, he listened for the murmur of feminine conversation, but the music room was too distant and their voices too quiet.He carried out the tiered morsels, pausing at the entry to the music room.

Mother and Lina sat side by side on the sofa, bodies turned inward, a pair of reversed bookends speaking softly.

“Ah, Henry.”Mother inched forward, pressing her hands against the cushion.“Teatime?”

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