Christmas Past, Christmas Present Ch. 02

Mr. Elders and Mr. Riley both shook their hands before they received their plaques, and Bruce, since he was an actual employee, the facsimile bonus check that accompanied the award. They shook hands with a number of people as they left the platform. With Paula feeling weak, they had to leave the party early, returning upstairs to their suite.

When she was ready for bed, Bruce started to close the curtains to block out the lights.

"Bruce, leave it open, please," she whispered, trying to avoid showing how weak she was. "I'd like to watch the snow fall for a little longer."

***

Angela felt signs of the cold coming on by Monday morning, but she didn't mention it to Bruce. She was being as upbeat as she could to keep from worrying him. By Tuesday afternoon, though, it was much worse and she had to call Nisha, who quickly arranged to have her taken to the hospital. Nisha called Bruce at work and they met Angela there.

After setting her up with an IV with meds and painkiller, Nisha started to speak, but Angela waved her off. When Nisha looked at Angela, cocking her head slightly with her nonverbal question, Angela responded by shaking her head slightly, which left Nisha staring daggers at her friend. She turned to Bruce and said, "Please excuse me, Bruce. I know you two need to talk."

Angela had Bruce sit with her, holding his hands, as she gave him the bad news. Tears were rolling down his face as he asked several questions of Angela before calling Nisha back into the room. Her responses offered no more hope than Angela's had.

"I'm very sorry, Bruce. You know I love Angie as a sister and would do anything to help her..."

Bruce wiped his eyes as nodded and said, "I know, Nisha. We appreciate all you've done."

Nisha, fighting tears of her own, gave each of them a hug and then left once more.

Bruce turned to Angela. "Honey, why? Why didn't you tell me?"

Angela shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Bruce. I couldn't tell you. I knew about your award and wanted more than anything for us to have one last weekend together without it hanging over our heads like it is now."

"But—"

"No, buts, dear. It wouldn't have changed anything if you'd known other than making you sad, casting a pall over everything, and ruining the whole weekend. This way, we had a lovely time and made a beautiful memory that we wouldn't have had the other way."

Bruce arranged for a hospital-type bed and home hospice care, and Angela came home on Friday afternoon. With only IV fluids and pain meds, she was as comfortable as she could be under her new duvet in her final days, with Bruce almost constantly at her side.

Eating little and weakening each day, Angela Ingles Garner passed away the following Saturday on Christmas Eve at the age of 48.

***

Early December, the present day...

"Excuse me, Mr. Garner? Do you need anything else before I leave?"

Mei's voice stirred Bruce Garner from his focus on the documents before him. He looked up to see the little gray-haired Taiwanese-American woman, his personal assistant of almost ten years, standing expectantly in front of his desk. A document was in his in-box that he was certain hadn't been there before her arrival.

He asked whether she would be at the company holiday party and was disappointed to hear that she had plans, but he smiled when he learned of her gathering with her daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Her son was away in Taiwan working on a project with Mei's cousin, so it was good that she'd have company for at least an early Christmas.

When their talk was over, he wished her goodnight before looking back down at his notes. Something about the party made him think, and he looked up before she'd left his office.

"Mei, excuse me, but I just remembered one other thing. Mrs. Juarez's new hire in the technical writing office? The lady she brought on a few weeks ago? Do you know if she's on the list to attend?"

Mei walked back over to his desk and pulled the paper out of his in-box. She gave him a funny look as she tapped her toe, but she flipped through it, scanned down the page, and then pointed to a name. "Yes, sir. She's on here."

It looked as if she had a hint of a smile seeing the trouble he had trouble controlling his own, but he had to press on. "Mei, I hate to ask this but do you know if she's single?"

Although she was only five years older than Bruce, Mei Wong had cared for her boss like her own son for many years, so his interest warmed her heart. She'd been with him through the dark times of Mrs. Garner's illness, her passing, and his long period of loneliness and denial before finally accepting it and moving forward. Unfortunately, to the best of her knowledge, he'd never really moved on. Not wanting to seem too interested or excited, she gave a nonchalant answer.

"Hmm, I don't know, sir, since I've never spoken to her...but she is only down for one reservation."

She closed the paper and laid it back in his tray just as he reached for it. She could see the disappointment on his face so she knew she'd toyed with him enough. Smiling she said, "Levesque, Paula, Senior Technical Writer. Good night, sir."

His smile warmed her heart as he thanked her. Trying to be the best assistant possible, she returned to her desk and typed a very short e-mail to Lydia Bowers, the woman in charge of seating arrangements for the party.

Lydia,

Sorry it's so late to be requesting this, but if there's any way you can still fix it, please seat Paula Levesque, the new tech writer, with Mr. Garner at his table. Or vice versa, if it's easier. I'll explain over lunch one day next week.

Thanks!

Mei

Mei Wong picked up her coat and purse and headed to the airport to pick up her daughter-in-law and grandchildren. It was going to be a great weekend.

***

On Saturday morning, Bruce Garner awoke feeling a little nauseous. He hoped coffee and a bite to eat would help ease his queasiness because the weather looked good and he was planning a long bike ride out at Umstead Park later in the morning.

After starting the coffee maker, he turned on the TV in the kitchen, figuring to listen to the local news and weather while he fixed breakfast. He listened through several reports as he cooked two eggs and a piece of toast, but as he was putting the eggs on his plate, the anchor's comments caught his attention.

"We turn to Raleigh News 7's Kevin Jenkins for more on this developing story from the city's northside."

"Thanks, Sharon. Officials here at Cramden Oaks Elementary School in the North Hills district tell News 7 they started receiving urgent calls, e-mails, and texts from concerned parents as early as 6 PM last night. Parents reported that their children were violently ill with stomach aches, diarrhea, and vomiting. At least two with reportedly uncontrollable vomiting were rushed to area emergency rooms for treatment, but the current report from school officials is that over 400 of the school's 700 students have now been reported to have the illness. We at News 7 have been told that Norovirus, the so-called winter vomiting bug or cruise-ship virus (for its tendency to sweep through cruise ships when the bug is present), is believed to be the culprit responsible."

"Kevin, what more can you tell us about Norovirus?"

"Sharon, from the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, onset is usually 12 to 48 hours after exposure, with a typical duration of 1 to 3 days. Symptoms are the stomach aches, vomiting, and diarrhea as mentioned, but some victims experience headaches or fever, too. Doctors tell News 7 that, because of its virulence, caregivers and anyone exposed to possible victims must be particularly careful..."

The reporter droned on for a few moments talking about avoiding exposure, telling how officials were disinfecting the school over the weekend, and avoiding returning kids to school too quickly. He ended with, "Reporting from outside Cramden Oaks Elementary School, this is News 7's Kevin Jenkins. Back to you in the studio, Sharon."

"Thanks, Kevin. Now we turn to News 7's Gina Brower with area weather."

Bruce clicked off the TV as his stomach rumbled. Cramden Oaks had its fall career day for 5th graders on Friday and Bruce had been one of the speakers that morning. His stomach rumbled again as he tried to recall how many little hands he'd shaken.

"Oh, shit!" he said as set the plate of untouched eggs and toast on the counter before he ran to the bathroom.

***

By Sunday morning, the virus had run its course after one of the worst nights in Bruce's life. In a near delirious state, he'd spent part of the night on the floor in front of the toilet, alternating between violent vomiting, mostly into the bowl, and drinking more water to try to stay hydrated, which, in turn, contributed to extending the cycle. When he'd been able to sleep between the rounds, he had a series of bad dreams. He recalled nothing of their content, but thought, for some strange reason, that they were connected and involved Angela, his late wife.

On finding his plate with his breakfast where he'd left it on the counter over 24 hours earlier, he tossed the food and began a thorough scrub of this kitchen, bath, and hard surfaces in his bedroom. The sheets, pillowcases, and pillows went in the washer; Angela's duvet, which he still used and cherished as a way to be close to her memory, followed later in the afternoon.

The rest of the day was spent resting and recuperating. He fell asleep on the couch for a while watching the Panthers, but missed the end of the game. On seeing the final score that evening, he was glad he'd missed it.

A crisp cold Monday morning found him back at the office, feeling close to normal, though his stomach still ached as if he'd been kicked in the gut by one of the dairy cows on his late grandfather's farm in his youth. As he walked into his department, he put on his best face, determined to put the weekend behind him.

"Good morning, Mei. How was your weekend?"

"Good morning, Mr. Garner. It was very nice, sir. We had a lovely time and Skyped with my Andy. I drove my daughter-in-law and the grands to the airport this morning for their flight to go see him. How about yours? Did you, ah, meet anyone nice over the weekend?"

Bruce sighed. "I became rather intimately acquainted with the toilet bowl. Did you catch the news? There was a Norovirus outbreak at the school where I spoke on Friday morning and now it looks like it spread well beyond that. I heard on the radio on the way in that there've been about 1,200 cases reported so far, and that doesn't count mine since I stayed home by myself and didn't report it to anyone."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Garner. And you missed the Winter Holiday party?"

"Mei, I missed most everything."

***

Later that morning, Mei Wong received a call from Marg Juarez in Technical Writing. After pleasantries were out of the way, Marg said, "Does Bruce have any openings today for a 10 to 15-minute in-office? I sent him Paula Levesque's resume last week and want to do a little intro meeting to see if Bruce is interested in adding Paula to his team on a part-time basis."

"Paula Levesque?" asked a surprised Mei. Perhaps that was why Mr. Garner had asked about Paula on Friday afternoon, but Mei hoped not. She pulled up his schedule and found a suitable slot. When Marg agreed to the time, Mei said she'd confirm with Bruce and Paula and send out the invite.

"Mr. Garner, Marg Juarez has requested a short meeting this afternoon with you and one of her writers. Will 1:30 work for you?"

"Thanks, Mei. Set it up," said Bruce over the phone.

Mei made a quick call to Paula Levesque, and then sent out the meeting invite. Paula accepted right away and Marg Juarez followed shortly thereafter. Mei, finishing a letter, jumped when she heard a single loud clap in Mr. Garner's office later that morning. He accepted the invitation right afterward, so Mei smiled. Better late than never, she thought.

***

At 1:30 on the dot, Mei tapped on the frame of Bruce's open door before escorting Marg Juarez and the woman he'd seen but never met into his office.

"Come in," he said in greeting as he stood up before coming around the desk to shake Marg's hand.

"Bruce, heard you were ill over the weekend," whispered Marg. "So sorry to hear that. You missed a nice party."

"Thanks, Marg," he replied quietly with a wry smile. "I missed the party and, unfortunately, most everything else and then spent a good part of the day Sunday cleaning it all up."

She gave an understanding look and then turned slightly to say, "Bruce, let me introduce you to Paula Levesque. She's new to our department, but she has considerable experience that you'll find relevant to your work, as you've probably seen in the resume and samples I forwarded. Paula, this is Mr. Garner."

Marg moved to the side so Paula could step forward to greet him. When he saw her, Bruce's heart did a little flip. Yes, this was the woman he'd seen last week in Marg's department and whose name he'd only learned on Friday. She was as lovely as he'd thought, but now she appeared to be possibly recovering from an illness as she stuck her hand out in greeting.

He gave her a warm smile and greeted her as they shook hands. "Did you have a touch of the stomach flu, too? I heard it's going around. That's what took me out on Saturday and why I didn't make the party. First company party I've missed in the fifteen years I've been here."

She shook her head quickly but still looked sick, making Bruce wonder if she'd come in too soon and was perhaps exposing everyone to another round of the illness. But, on further view, he wondered if perhaps it was fright. He didn't think he'd done anything to cause that, but wasn't sure so he tried to make his smile warm and welcoming to calm her before asking them to be seated.

With Paula's resume on his desk and the non-confidential portion of her employee record open on his monitor, he asked several questions about her background and professional experience to gain more insight into her knowledge and abilities. He was very impressed by what he heard, but the more they talked, the less he felt she was the right fit for his team, particularly for their upcoming projects. She seemed very independent, an excellent trait in most cases, but one which could become an issue if he didn't have time to supervise her properly in the midst of the new work. He didn't have those concerns with his current team members.

He told Marg they needed to finish up and then turned to Paula. "Paula, it's very nice to meet you, and I appreciate the opportunity to work with you, but..."

He tried to let her down gently, offering praise and hope and hope for the future before turning back to Marg. He whispered a few words to her and then turned to shake Paula's hand, only to see her back as she slipped out the door.

***

After a light dinner on Monday evening, Bruce retreated to his bedroom to make it an early evening. He'd been conflicted all afternoon. Perhaps he'd been too dismissive of Paula, but he didn't feel that his department needed her at the present time, which he'd told Marg Juarez from the start when she brought up the possibility. For that reason, he didn't feel bad about it at all.

However, on the personal side, he felt awful. In truth, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to work effectively with her. He'd supervised men and women for over twenty-five years and never felt this way until now, making him wonder if he was losing his touch. There was something about her that distracted him while, at the exact same time, also attracted him.

Perhaps, he wondered, if it just might be that it was one and the same thing.

Shaking his head in denial at thought, he turned on the TV and flipped channels while getting ready for bed but he found nothing of interest before running out of patience. "So many channels, so little worth watching," he grumbled before turning it back off and picking up the leatherbound book he'd started reading a few days earlier.

A gift from his late wife, it was a reprinted copy of the illustrated first edition of Dickens' classic, A Christmas Carol. Settling in his bed, he opened the book, turned to Stave Four—The Last of the Spirits, and started reading.

He'd read a couple of pages when a sound startled him, leading him to look up to see her, dressed in her robe and standing at the foot of the bed as if she just walked in from the bathroom.

"Angela!" he exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and fright.

"Hello, my love."

He shook his head, trying to focus and restore reality, only to see her still there as if she belonged, as he clambered out of bed and moved toward her. "Sweetheart, is it really you?"

Holding one hand out in front of him as if to stop him, she used her other to pinch the outstretched arm and then looked up at him, grinning. "I don't know, but it sure feels like it to me."

"But...but...well, how are you here? And why?"

"How? I don't know; I just am. And as for why? You needed me the other night, didn't you? I suspect you need me tonight, too, correct?"

"The other night? When I was sick? That was you? I don't remember much but I thought I was dreaming."

"Are you feeling better?" she asked. "I don't remember seeing you that sick since Linc Holcomb's bachelor party. What was it? Homemade Appalachian moonshine?"

"Yeah, that was pretty bad, but this, this was worse, far worse, believe me," he said with a chuckle as he moved forward and took her in his arms. "But you said I need you tonight, too. Why?"

Her arms encircled him in return and she placed her head against him. "Bruce, it's been four years and you're still here, sad and lonely. Do you want me to show you what will happen if you don't accept and change? To show you the haunting specter of Christmas yet to come?"

"No, sweetheart, I know it's true and I've accepted it—"

She pushed back, separating herself from him, and stared into his eyes. "No, dear, you've given lip service to that, over and over, it seems, but you've buckled down and made your work your whole focus, your whole life. You've done nothing to really let me go, to move forward and find new happiness. Now, when the opportunity arises and you finally give a little glimmer of hope that you might be making a change, you push the poor woman away as if you want nothing to do with her."

He recoiled, staring at her. "How...how'd you know?"

"You know me, Bruce. I've always had my ways." She grinned as she tilted her head. "Remember?"

"True," he said flatly, searching her face carefully for any clue that she might not be real.

"So, Bruce, what's the story? Do you want to try with this Paula woman?"

He shook his head. "Angela, I don't know," he replied, trying to control his voice. "I've seen her at a distance a couple of times and have actually met and spoken with her once. You can't build much of a relationship on something like that."

She twisted her mouth in an almost cynical expression. "Hmmm. I wonder...how many times did you tell me it was love at first sight with me? That's not a great foundation for a lasting relationship, but it worked for us for almost twenty-four years. But Bruce, you know what? You'd have never known that for sure if you hadn't asked me to go out with you, right? Or what if, say, just for kicks, I'd have turned you down and we'd never gone on that first date? Or any of the rest? You'd have never known, just like you'll never know with this Paula woman if you don't take a chance."

"I don't know if she's the right one for me."

"That's what I've been telling you, my love. You don't know and I don't either, but neither of us ever will unless you try, unless you do something to find out."

"Sweetheart, what can I do?"