Christmas came and went. Sitting on the beach, they told each other stories of childhood Christmases—Eric's full of presents and family feasts, Donna's full of disappointment and loneliness. Tears were shed and kissed gently away as the moon rose over the ocean. For them, the real gift was being together again.
Donna kept in touch with Jessica and knew that Layla had given birth to a tiny, but healthy baby girl. After a few tense hours, all was well. Layla's sister would remain until she had to return to her school after the first. The baby of Layla and Keith had taken priority over the babe in the manger this year, but the families had all managed to be together on Christmas Day. Chet and Carol's neighborhood gathering had also been a success.
Now, Donna sat on the loveseat they had carried into the great room so that she could keep Eric company a little closer as he worked near the ceiling. Some eighteen feet high, the wall was a testament both to nature and also his skill. Italian stone of many tones of brown and amber were arranged in a free-form pattern. Because the fireplace was electric, there was no need for a chimney, but the wall added elegance and drama to Doris Stein's addition. The mantle, also of stone, would soon provide a home for priceless figurines, plants, photos or candles.
"That doesn't look safe to me," she called up to Eric. "Are you sure you tightened everything?"
"No worries, m'lady. The last stone! I can hardly believe it. I finished in record time, despite your numerous interruptions," he called back.
Eric tapped the final stone into place. The end of a job was always satisfying. But of course, the job was not over quite yet. Even though he had tooled the joints and washed mortar off the stones as he went, there was now the task of sealing the entire wall. He had plenty of time before the Steins returned. He stopped to lean on the crossbar, calling down to her, "I think we should cele—"
Donna screamed as the crossbar gave way, sending Eric over the side. He landed on a pile of empty mortar bags which did little to break his fall. Running to him, Donna thought at first that he was gone. "Eric, nooo," she cried, checking for a pulse. Concrete dust from the bags had billowed up and settled onto both of them.
Groaning, Eric stirred. "Well, that was unfortunate," he muttered. "Thank God I put padding down to protect the floor, anyway. "He tried to move his extremities, one at a time. Left leg, right leg, right arm… "Ow! I think I sprained it."
Donna moved the bags away, her face suddenly pale. "You broke it, Eric. What can I do?"
Carefully, she helped him rise and get to the loveseat. He was dusty and dirty, and the fabric would suffer for it, but who cared? "Smart house," he mumbled before passing out from the pain.
Smart house. Smart house. She'd written an article about smart houses, but she hadn't set her voice up here. How sensitive was this one? "Call Ari Stein," she said loudly.
"Dialing Ari Stein," a lilting voice answered. The next voice she heard was Mr. Stein's.
"Mr. Stein! Thank God. This is Eric's wife Donna. We've got a problem."
Ari would disengage the gate lock remotely, he said, and call an ambulance right away with directions. It would take at least thirty minutes for it to arrive, though. "Hang in there, Donna! Help is on the way. Doris says keep him warm and stay calm. I'm so sorry, but there's no way for us to get back sooner than planned. Will you be okay? Should I contact someone to come help you?"
"Thank you, but not yet. I'll see what the hospital says," Donna said, feeling strange to be talking to the ceiling. "I think it's a broken arm, but there could be internal damage. He might have to stay." It was too soon to tell.
When the call was over, she googled first aid on her phone and gently laid Eric on his back, running to the living room for pillows to support his head and knees. The loveseat was too short to accommodate his entire body, but it was the best she could do. She dampened a towel in the kitchen and filled a glass with water. Gently wiping his face and dripping some water onto his lips, she prayed, making deals as people do. "If you'll just help him, I'll…" then stopped. "I'll what?" she said out loud. "Love him more? How could I?" A dozen childhood lessons and sermons flooded her mind. If it be Thy will. Why wouldn't it be? Please, Father.
Father. At the very word, bile rose in her throat. Donna's mother had left her alone with her father when she was six. She didn't even know the day her mother had died from an overdose. But she knew exactly the date and time her father began molesting her. It was her twelfth birthday.
12
Healings of Different Kinds
Eric sat on the loveseat giving orders. A cold drink and snacks were within reach. His feet were propped up, and a favorite band provided background music. His left arm was in a cast and the painkillers were effective without muddying his mind. And, he thought, I have the
