Wishes Granted, Prayers Answered, aljano [romantic books to read txt] 📗

A mound of slushy, half-melted snow drip-drops onto my head. I turn to glare at the offending mush dropper. The snow had fallen from the branch of a spiky Fir tree. The branches, excluding the dazzling white snow, have been blackened by their position to the sun. between the sharp needles the sky is stark and inconceivably bleak. Despite the brightness and the promise of Christmas cheer I have a terrible feeling of foreboding twisting my insides.
A shiver runs the course of my spine that has nothing to do with the sub-zero weather. I hesitantly step out of the embrace of the wood and am immediately ceased by desperation and fear. Amy, my doe-eyed baby of a sister, all angels’ curls and cherubs’ face, is playing in the street. But that’s not what has stolen my breath and locked up every muscle in my body. A beat-up Ford pick-up is barreling down the road and gives no hint of slowing down. Not even for the bright red clad figure in it’s path.
I let out an instinctive scream, hitting octaves I didn’t even know existed. I regain the possession of my limbs and take a wild, primitive lunge for Amy. I know that I won’t make it, I know that, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. Amy looks up at the last second, eyes flashing from the truck to me. She knows I won’t make it too; the anguished fear in her eyes tells me so. A solid meaty thump reaches my ears just as I make it to the road.
Oh no- Oh no- Oh no- Oh no. it hit her, it really hit her, it really, really hit her. My mind is a jumbled mess repeating the words numbly over and over and over. Her tiny, frail, five year old body is sprawled across the snow bank. Hysterical tears stream down my face, seeming to freeze and chip and break as they do so. I want to cradle her against my chest but I can’t, the world’s going black. My knees buckle and I succumb to the pitch darkness.
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It’s been nearly two weeks since that fated December day. I sit curled up in an uncomfortable plastic chair next to Amys’ hospital bed. I’ve been glued to this spot since it happened. Even though Amy survived she’s not wholly intact, not quite yet. She has to wake up to be whole, to be the hyper-active , sugar-sweet, optimist that I know and love. But she hasn’t. not foe two, long, horrible weeks. The doctors say she may never come out of this coma. That made my mother break down so bad that she’s not here anymore. Like she is hiding inside herself to escape the pain.
“Clair, Honey? Do you need anything Dear?” I hadn’t even noticed Dorthea come in. she is an older lady with a kind face and a gentle smile. She is Amys’ nurse and, I dare to say, my temporary caretaker. In the sense that she is doing more than Mom. Not that I can blame Mom after losing her husband to cancer then nearly losing her daughter to a drunk driver.
“I’ll be fine, thank you.” I wrap my arms around my knees and watch Dorthea check Amys vitals. Her vein-lined hands are so sure and steady, as if she is sure of everything she is doing. Where does she find such confidence, such assurance?
“Dorthea?” She turns her warm honey eyes to me. “ Do you think Amy will be alright?” My voice is wavering, my lips trembling. I am on the brink of tears.
“I do dear, I really do.” her eyes show no hint of deception.
“I’ve prayed and prayed. Everyday. All day. Why hasn’t he done anything?” The tears are flowing freely now. I can taste salt at the corner of my mouth.
“Oh Honey, just because you didn’t get the answer you wanted doesn’t mean he’s not there. Give him time.” She has maneuvered her way across the room and is now standing in front of me. Those sure hands reach up and take a thin gold chain from round her neck and place it around mine. “So you don’t forget. I’ll be seeing you soon Claire.” With that she takes her leave.
I sniffle then carefully examine the necklace. It is a smallish gold cross engraved with, “I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me”, on the underside. I hold it to my lips and press my eyes closed. I whisper a prayer to God with all the strength and sincerity I possess.
“Please, please do not forget us.” There is nothing I want more in this world than for my baby sister to wake up, to see life and love return to my mothers eyes.
I twist in my chair so that I am facing Amy. Weariness overcomes me and I pillow my head in the crook of my arm watching her sleeping face, only dimly aware that Christmas eve is almost over.
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I’m woken by an orderly whose come to check up on Amy. The clock says that it is five till twelve. A.M. the orderly leaves just as quickly as he entered, as if he were never there. But I’m wide awake now. I silently watch the clock tick the time away until the minute hand reaches twelve. I lean over the starched white sheets and kiss Amy’s cheek.
“Merry Christmas Amy.” I whisper in her ear then pull away before my tears can reach her skin.
My eyes linger on her angelic face and just as I am about to lie back down her eyelids flutter. I catch my breath. Slowly, as if time itself is holding it’s breath as well, her eyes open. Oh, those beautiful, beautiful emerald eyes! I thought I’d never see them again. My hand flies to my mouth, smothering half chocked sobs. She rubs her still sleep drowsy eyes and looks up at my face.
“Ga mornin, Cwaire.” Her voice sounds tiny and frail from so little use these last few weeks. Her face twists into concern. “Wats wong?” Her lower lip is trembling at the thought of something being wrong, she knows what happened to Daddy.
I choke back another sob and wrap her in my arms, cradling her against my chest. Her arms cling to what they can reach, returning my embrace. I am dimly aware of a commotion somewhere in the room but can not bring myself to let go and investigate. We are in a different world now, a place where wishes are granted and prayers are answered. Somewhere in the background of our world I can hear Dorthea say, “It’s a miracle!”
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We celebrated Christmas late this year; two days after Amy was discharged from the hospital. She is back to her old rambunctious ways, and shows nothing from the experience except a couple of scars and the knowledge to stay off of the road. Mom has returned and the light in her eyes holds something I haven’t seen in a long time. Hope.
She and Amy are sitting criss-cross applesauce in front of the fireplace watching the flames leap and dance. Amy picks up another present and tears into the crisp paper. Red Santa clauses join reindeer and bows on the hardwood floor. Amy sequels in delight when she finds the newest Barbie. Mom smiles down at her, her whole face shining with the love she holds for her daughter. She looks up at me and we share a smile. Amy pulls back her attention as she starts in with her hugs and “ I wuv you mommies”.
I turn my attention back to the frosted window and gently wipe away the fog that forms at my breath. I look over the snow covered firs and think back to that cold day when they had looked so menacing. I can’t recall the image for now they look cheerful, bright and full of promises, the cold can find no way through the warmth of love. I touch the ever present chain at my neck and tilt my head to the magnificently bright blue sky.
“Thank you.”

Publication Date: 05-04-2011

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