Pam looked up to see the sergeant-nurse holding a clipboard six inches from her nose. She grabbed it and zoomed in on the written words. “A sniffle in D6. Let’s get to it, Janet.”
The weather forecast predicted Friday to be the hottest day of the week. For once, he was right on target. Pam finished her last shift Thursday at midnight, and even then the air outside had felt sticky and humid. Her sleep started out restless, tossing and turning from an over-heated body. But now this morning, after seven blissful hours of air-conditioning, she felt refreshed and ready to face four wonderful days off work. What a lucky stretch! Today was payback from the doctor she’d covered for earlier in the week. She couldn’t remember the last time her name had dodged the hospital schedule for such a long period. The administrator must be asleep in her duties, but she’d consider it a Christmas gift long overdue. The time off fell on the eve of the town’s Christmas in July celebrations. With or without snow, this holiday was her favorite in the entire year.
Pam dressed in jean shorts and a flowery tee shirt to look the part of vacation-time. She bent over and gathered her long straight hair between her fingers, twirled it, and secured it on top with a curly band. The cool on her neck felt great. This was the one and only style she’d survive today, playing amidst the heat and busyness that her itinerary promised.
Downstairs, in the foyer of her apartment building, Pam sucked in firm determination, stepped through the revolving turnstile, and braved the great outdoors. The heat hit her like a wall of fire. The next hour found her darting in and out of traffic while she caught up on errands.
The bank was first on her list, as she wanted cash in her purse to spend this weekend. Debit and credit cards were impersonal, no way to shower blessings on her fellow man. Her first opportunity to give occurred while passing the drug store. Mrs. Charter donned a red Santa hat and was ringing the Salvation Army bell loud in hopes to attract anyone within hearing distance. Pam dropped her first contribution into the kettle and felt electrified.
The tantalizing aroma of baked goods lured her inside the bakery. The dessert chef had been busy dragging out all the hand-me-down recipes that celebrated the town’s people and the festivities. Samples of spiced and fruitcakes, cookies of all shapes and sizes, squares, and a grand selection of pies crowded into the main display cabinet. She browsed for her favorite and purchased more than one person should ever eat. Thank goodness for freezers.
Paper bag in hand, Pam continued slowly down the sidewalk, stopping to gaze at the window decorations the proprietors had taken out of mothballs to add to the illusion that the Christmas season had indeed landed in Cedar Springs prematurely.
When the post office came into view Pam wondered if the staff at the nursing home in San Diego, where a relative now lived in full-time care, had reminded the woman of this special weekend in Cedar Springs. Aunt Teresa always sent cards to her, for this and that, as she seldom got out anymore, the sad life of an Alzheimer patient. Marie Legend was her only surviving relative. When her parents died, the responsibility and privilege to keep in touch with the aging patient had fallen on Pam. Since moving to Cedar Springs, they’d discovered it was easier to keep in touch by mail. In the delivery-box, they were writing-buddies, whereas hearing her voice on the phone or a face-to-face visit had demanded recognition. That would always set off the disturbing and stressful behavior that no one needed.
Pam placed her hand on the door handle when she heard someone calling from behind. “Doctor wait up.” She immediately recognized John Doe’s voice and turned to greet him.
“Good morning, John. I see you are still with us,” she said.
“Your friend Tom is treating me like a king and I’m helping him out some. He says I’m a gift from heaven, sent in his time of need.”
“Well, I thank you then. Denise worries about her husband. He works so hard to make his guests feel welcome.”
“His guests… well, that’s a nice label for the folks that wander through his door every day.”
“He is a generous man, and we all appreciate the work he does. Someone needs to care for the homeless.”
“Suppose that description includes me. Joined the ranks of Cedar Springs by accident.” John snickered at his play on words. “Or maybe I’ve always been homeless – wiped my mind clean of all my past pain and living happy and content on the streets.” He looked embarrassed. “Sorry, that sounded downright poor-in-the-mouth and disrespectful. I’ve met lots of these folks since I moved in and I’m thinking there is always something to learn from another human being.”
Pam smiled. “Good conclusion.”
“Let me get the door for you,” he volunteered as he opened it wide then stood to the side to let her pass in front of him.
“Just checking to see if I got any Christmas cards,” Pam said.
“Think that might be a stretch? Anyone who does not turn at exit 53 into Cedar Springs will not even know Christmas is on the remake.”
“You just never know. I’m sure Mr. and Mrs. Claus do not take a break from planning all things Christmas.”
John’s face turned ashen, and I reached out to steady him. “What is it? Are you having a memory flash?”
When he turned my way he asked, “Do you have a Christmas store in this town?”
“Yes, I’m headed there after I check the mail. Wait, and I’ll walk with you.”
John held his position at the door, as Pam moved toward the
