10 #2
Miranda thanked him, and he apologized again for the inconvenience.
She had to bite her tongue to keep from complaining about his unhelpful receptionist. But feeling somewhat victorious, she dashed over to the motor home to tell Joy the good news.
Finding Joy snoozing on the sofa, Miranda decided to let her rest. She left a little note, saying that they’d gotten the green light from Norm, but that she could handle the decorating on her own if needed.
At least she hoped she could. And hopefully it wouldn’t take too long.
By the time Miranda carried the first bin up to the building, Roxy was out of her chair and opening the door for her. “Norm just called,” she said as she held the door. “Sorry, I didn’t understand. I apologize.”
Miranda blinked at her change of attitude. “Well, no offense, Roxy, but you were a bit rude about it.”
Roxy frowned. “Well, I’m supposed to be tough at the reception desk. I’m like the gatekeeper, you know? People pull all kinds of stunts to get junk past me.”
“You thought Joy and I were trying to smuggle in some drugs?”
Roxy’s mouth twisted to one side. “Well, not really. The truth is I was just being a lazy brat. Sorry ’bout that.”
Miranda chuckled as she set the bin down on a chair in the waiting area. “Okay then . . . no hard feelings. Want to help me carry in some stuff?”
Roxy explained she wasn’t allowed to leave the reception area, but she called on a maintenance guy named Cory to lend a hand.
Before long everything was inside and Miranda went to work.
Even with the delay of getting started, Miranda was making good time.
And with the help of Cory, she got the “family room” area nicely decorated even before Norm arrived with a tall noble fir.
Norm went to find some patients to help trim the tree, and after less than two hours, it was all done and Miranda was taking photos.
“This looks really good,” Cory said as he folded the six-foot stepladder closed. “Want me to take this back out to your RV?”
“Thanks.” Miranda placed one of the cookie plates on the coffee table for the ones who’d helped to decorate.
The other two cookie plates would go with the box of other party things that she planned to leave with Roxy.
Fortunately, Roxy had really gotten on board with everything and had even promised to get the rest of the stuff set up in time for the party on Christmas Eve.
“The place looks fabulous,” Roxy told Miranda. “Nina will be seriously ticked when she comes out of that meeting.”
Miranda made a half smile. “Sorry to miss that.”
“I’m not going to miss it,” Roxy assured her.
“And I like watching Nina get mad. Mostly because she’s always preaching to others about not letting stuff get to you.
But when she’s ticked, her face gets all red and puffy and it looks like she could blow steam out of her ears. Doesn’t really seem healthy to me.”
“Probably not.” Miranda smiled at Roxy. “Thanks for your help. I’m going to get Joy now. She’ll want to see and approve everything before we go.”
“She has to approve the Christmas decorations?”
“Well, after all, she is Christmas Joy. And this is really her deal. I’m just her helper. You know the hierarchy—she’s Santa and I’m the elf.” Miranda laughed.
“Sounds like a fun job.” Roxy moved the small lighted Christmas tree that Miranda had placed on the corner of the reception counter into a more prominent position. “This baby tree is so cute!”
Miranda felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she went out to the RV.
She couldn’t wait for Joy to see what she’d done—and in a relatively short amount of time too!
Joy was still on the sofa with her eyes closed.
But something about this peaceful scene felt wrong.
On closer examination, Miranda noticed that Joy’s fists were clenched and her expression was strained, as if she were grimacing in pain.
“Joy?” Miranda said softly, gently nudging her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Joy’s eyes opened wide and her lips quivered. “Pain.” She croaked out the word, touching her chest. “Heart.”
“Oh no!” Miranda stood, looking for her phone, but remembered it was in her purse, which was still stashed behind the reception desk.
“Baby aspirin!” she cried out as she raced to the tiny bathroom’s medicine cabinet.
She’d spotted the small bottle on their first day out.
Rushing back, she shook a pill out. “Chew this!” She slipped it into Joy’s mouth.
“I’ll get my phone to call for help. It’s in the rehab center. I’ll be right back!”
She sprinted back to the rehab center, yelling as she came in the door. “Call 911! Joy’s having a heart attack!”
Before Miranda could find the phone in her purse, Roxy was already speaking to someone at the 911 dispatch center, giving the address and calmly but urgently explaining the emergency.
“I have to get back to Joy,” Miranda yelled as she ran for the door. As she raced back to the RV, she prayed, begging God to send help fast and to spare Joy.
Please, God, she prayed silently, don’t let her die!
Joy felt like an elephant was standing on her chest. She willed herself to relax, trying not to gag over the crumbs of the orange-flavored aspirin, as she waited for Miranda to return. Please, God, she prayed silently. Not yet. I’m not ready yet. Not done yet.
Joy stared at the RV ceiling, willing herself to live, willing her heart to keep going. Somehow she had to make it to Flagstaff . . . she had to make it to little Emily. It was the most important stop on this trip. She would’ve gone there first . . . except for the miles . . . the miles.
Miranda returned, and after making certain that Joy was still conscious, she knelt by her side, holding Joy’s hand and rocking back and forth slightly. Joy could see Miranda’s lips moving . . . praying. Maybe that was all they could do.
Please, God, Joy prayed silently again. Just a little more time.
Because even after Flagstaff, Joy still needed to make it to Phoenix .
. . She needed to see her boys . . . just one more time.
Please, God! She wasn’t ready to part from them yet.
There were words that still needed to be said. Please, not yet.
The door burst open and two paramedics entered the RV, knelt by the sofa, and peered curiously at her.
Together they asked questions and slipped on some straps and put something over her mouth and nose.
Oxygen, perhaps. Talking soothingly, they reassured her as they checked her vital signs, preparing her to be moved.
Joy tried to be cooperative, but she felt the motor home spinning round and round .
. . like a carnival ride. She was too dizzy, too woozy, unable to hold on.
She felt herself losing touch, losing her grip, slipping away.
Joy spotted him up ahead. Her handsome young man.
Under a large oak tree in the center of a field that was golden green and smelled like the end of summer, there stood George Jorgenson in a pale gray suit.
He was smiling and waving to her, motioning for her to come and join him.
With legs as spry as a young doe, Joy ran toward him—and he ran to meet her.
She fell happily into his arms, relaxing in his strong embrace as he lifted her from her feet, spinning her around in his arms. She was home . . . and she knew it. Home at last.
There they sat together, under the leafy green shadows of the old oak tree, on a scratchy plaid woolen car robe with a wicker basket that was filled with luncheon things that George’s Aunt Bernice had generously packed up for them that morning.
Everything was perfect and magical that day.
It was the kind of day that should never end .
. . a day that should be replayed time and again at will.