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Uncharted Christmas

By Keely Brooke Keith

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Dr. Lydia Bradshaw refused to believe the rumor predicting it would snow on Christmas Day. Such idealistic holiday pleasantries might be commonplace in the northern hemisphere at this time of year, but not here in the Land where the summer solstice was mere days away. Holding fast to the truth was the only way she would survive the Land’s present circumstances with her professional dignity intact.
And the truth was that Christmastime in Good Springs heralded the gentle beginning of summer—a sweet time when long evenings beckoned her to slowly sip the sunset, whether she was preparing dinner for her family or riding Dapple home from house calls outside the village. Proper December weather on this hidden island in the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean brought bright sunrises, warm days with lazy strolls on the shore, and teaching little Andrew how to catch fireflies in the paddock while soft evening breezes fanned her skirts.
Not with snow flurries sticking to her eyelashes.
She brushed the uninvited snowflakes away from her face and tightened her woolen shawl as she hurried from one patient’s house to the next. Frost had formed on her medical bag’s handle, sticking its metal to her glove. The only frost in the Land in early December should be in the icebox in the cellar. Then again, nothing else had been normal this year, so why should she expect the weather to meet her expectations?
Perhaps the villagers’ Christmas snow prediction would come true.
As she passed the chapel where her father preached on Sundays, she waved more snowflakes away from her face while following the second-born Cotter child to the next urgent call. They passed the old library, which was her favorite building in the village, then the schoolhouses, and finally the bare lot where the market bustled with traders every Saturday morning.
Daydreaming about quiet hours in the library or balmy summer days at the market tempted her constantly, but she resisted the urge to look to the right and the left. Nothing else could matter while answering the call of duty.
Her boot heels crunched the icy crystals scattered on the cobblestone street as she trailed the Cotter boy toward his parents’ tidy house where she had been summoned to examine the eldest child—a girl of ten, whom the boy said was shaky and refused to leave her hiding place.
If the girl’s condition was indeed what Lydia expected, this would be the third call to aid a panicked youngster so far this week.
And that, too, she blamed on the uncommon weather.
Hopefully, this patient would be easier to calm than the others. She barely had time to answer this call for help before her three o’clock obstetrics appointment at the Foster farm, and her reputation disallowed tardiness, no matter that the scheduled patient was her younger sister.
The frigid wind whipped at her bonnet, flipping its starched rim up and down like a storm-tossed wave. She shouldn’t have stored her winter wardrobe already. Since the sun still shone most days—albeit not as early nor as late as it should because of the ring of haze that darkened the horizon—she held hope for the Land to have a summer this year.
Even though the spring weather hadn’t been normal, the few hours of daily sunlight that pierced the volcanic ash in the earth’s upper atmosphere had thawed the soil after the harshest winter the Land had ever known.
If only the frost that smothered her spirit would likewise thaw.
No! She could not succumb to the dread and complaining that had taken over many of the villagers’ attitudes. It would be Christmas soon, and no one deserved a discontented wife or mother at what was supposed to be the most joyous time of year, especially her Connor and her Andrew.
She had seen worse situations than out-of-season snow. She could fight this unrelenting melancholy. By the increase in patient calls, it was safe to assume she wasn’t the only soul struggling to stay positive. Probably the entire world was presently downcast.
Connor said the volcanic ash layer surrounding the globe would have darkened the rest of the planet much worse than what the Land was experiencing. The atmospheric anomaly that helped to hide the Land was somehow keeping their skies clear directly above. He said that meant the unbroken cloud cover the rest of the world was enduring would have cooled the continents more than the Land.
If she could trust anyone’s opinion on what was happening, it was Connor’s. Not only was the former Unified States Naval Aviator the Land’s first outsider since the Founders arrived here in the 1860s, he was also the Land’s most ardent protector… and her husband.
If Connor said life was better in the Land—even with the haze on the horizon that shortened and cooled the days—it was true. Those poor souls of the outside world must be terribly miserable. And also the doctors who tended to them. Lydia only had to bear a late-spring snow and more requests for house calls than usual.
Many, many more requests for house calls.
Not all Lydia’s patients were afflicted in the same manner, but she was seeing a pattern. The calls for help weren’t the usual medical emergencies she used to encounter. No broken bones to set or deep lacerations to stitch.
These days, the cries were frantic, yet the symptoms benign. Half the older folks in the village suffered from a deep sadness that amplified their every ache, and the adolescents’ anxious spirits deprived them of logic and sleep.
Another pattern was emerging too: it seemed each young married woman in the village was pregnant.
All the young married women except her.
That didn’t matter now. Couldn’t matter now. She and Connor had been blessed with Andrew. Her precious boy would turn three at the end of the month, and he filled the Colburn house with the energy of a dozen children.
That should be enough to satisfy her maternal longings.
Besides, at present she could hardly find time for every patient who sent for her. She had experienced pregnancy once and remembered how difficult it had been to tend to half the patients she had now.
So her inability to conceive again was probably a blessing. Yes, that was it. A blessing.
And one must always count their blessings. Hadn’t her mother frequently said so? Her sweet, departed mother, who had been blessed with five children, a peaceful home, and the time to decorate the house for Christmas every year.
If she could see Lydia’s performance as a wife and mother and the house so void of Christmas cheer, she would probably be dreadfully disappointed in her.
No, Hannah Colburn wasn’t easily disappointed.
Once again, Lydia couldn’t do anything as graciously as her mother had.
Lydia’s elder sisters, Adeline and Maggie, were both models of domestic efficiency with their big families and beautiful homes. Even Mandy could patiently tend to baby Will while being six months along with her and Levi’s second child, and she still found time to teach music lessons, craft new instruments to trade, and have a hot meal on the table and a smile on her face when Levi came home each day.
At least, that was how Lydia imagined her sister-in-law’s daily life.
Her heels sank into the slushy soil as she stepped from the road to the Cotter family’s front gate. The boy had already charged ahead of her and past Mrs. Cotter, who was standing inside the open front door with one arm holding her toddler on her hip and the other hand rubbing her pregnant belly.
“Thank you for coming, Dr. Bradshaw,” the woman declared before Lydia had ascended the porch steps. “Grace is curled up in the corner. She was trembling frightfully earlier but has stopped now. I don’t think she’s ill exactly, though something is wrong with her. Harold is working at the mill until sundown. I didn’t know what to do, so I sent Billy to fetch you.”
“That is always best in these situations, Mrs. Cotter.” Lydia stepped from the snowy porch into the cozy entryway, her cold nose soothed by the aroma of bread baking. Freshly woven pine garland swirled around the banister of the polished staircase ahead of her. To her left, steam rose from the pots on the stove, and to her right, a fire glowed in the hearth. “Where is Grace now?”
Mrs. Cotter’s hospitable hands awaited Lydia’s icy shawl and frozen spring bonnet. Melting snow drips tinked on the clean floorboards while Mrs. Cotter hung the items on a coat tree. “She’s in the parlor, just through here.”
Lydia wiped her boots on the entryway rug and followed Mrs. Cotter through a short hallway into a beautifully arranged parlor. More garland outlined an organized bookcase. Two armchairs, each cradling needlepoint pillows sporting festive Christmas designs, flanked a plush divan. A crocheted blanket made of Christmas-colored yarn covered the back of the divan like an invitation to nestle in and read awhile.
Lydia had unboxed none of her family’s Christmas decorations, and she certainly hadn’t read for pleasure in a long time.
Mrs. Cotter caught Lydia’s eye and pointed to the corner behind the second armchair. Another child ran to Mrs. Cotter from the kitchen and furled his arms around her aproned waist. “I finished writing my alphabet, Mama. Read me a story now, please.”
“In a few minutes, baby. Dr. Bradshaw is here to see Grace.”
Billy darted into the parlor behind his little brother, his face still flushed from the cold outside. “May I have a biscuit, Mama?”
“Not yet, Billy.” She looked down at her daughter, who was ignoring them all. “Gracie, Dr. Bradshaw is here to see you.”
The girl didn’t respond.
“Gracie, sweetie, Dr. Bradshaw came all this way for you. Please, come out.”
When her daughter’s position still didn’t change, Mrs. Cotter looked at Lydia with a concerned brow and lifted an uncertain hand. “Grace stared out the window all morning after her father left for the mill. When the snow started falling, she got herself in a tizzy and hid back there. I wasn’t worried till I noticed she was shaking and such. She’s never behaved like this. Can you help her, Doctor?”
Before Lydia could answer, the boys both fired questions at their mother, pulling at her apron and begging for attention and biscuits.
Lydia gave the girl a quick study. This was not a medical emergency, nor had she expected it to be. Still, duty bound her to answer any call. That used to mean putting her safety at risk by rushing to save others; now her job had simmered to more frequent but less sensational heroics.
She set her medical bag on the floor beside the sofa and dropped her cold gloves atop it. The girl peeked one eye open. Lydia slid the armchair away, opening the hiding place wide enough for two. “Hello, Grace. Mind if I join you back there?”
The girl gazed up at Lydia with wet eyes and a quivering bottom lip.
Lydia had seen that look on other young faces since the haze filled the horizon eight months ago. She offered Mrs. Cotter a reassuring smile. “Would you take your sons to the kitchen while Grace and I have a chat?”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Cotter caught her sons’ hands. “Come now, Tommy, Billy.”
Lydia lowered herself to the floor beside the girl and spread her damp skirt hem. Heat from the gray leaf log in the fireplace warmed the room all the way to its edges. She leaned her palms against the rug behind her as she gazed about the parlor. “This is a lovely hiding place you have here. I can see why you chose it. It’s safe and warm.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Grace watching her. She gave pause for the girl to speak, but when she didn’t, Lydia continued in a relaxed voice. “Yes, I would tuck myself away in this room too, especially on cold days that shouldn’t be cold. And definitely on days when the grown-ups spoke of clouds and snow and not knowing what would come of the crops and the livestock and the village.”
Grace unlocked her arms from around her knobby knees long enough to wipe her nose on her sleeve. Lydia withdrew a fresh handkerchief from her dress pocket and offered it to her. “Your mother is worried about you. She sent for me to make sure you aren’t ill. I don’t think you are ill. Do you?”
Grace accepted the handkerchief and shook her head.
It wasn’t the vocal response Lydia was hoping for, but it was a start. “I’ve been out in that weather all day, going from house to house to help patients.” She held out a hand. “Do my fingers feel cold to you?”
Grace felt Lydia’s hand, unaware it was her temperature that was being checked. Her voice cracked from a tear-filled afternoon. “Maybe a little.”
“Your fingers are a little cool as well.” She felt the girl’s forehead and neck. “You don’t have a fever, nor are your glands swollen.”
“I wanted to tell Mama I wasn’t sick, but I couldn’t talk.”
“Why couldn’t you talk?”
“I was too upset, I guess.”
“Big emotions and no idea what to do with them.” Lydia brushed the girl’s hair out of her eyes. “I know what that’s like.”
“You do?”
“Of course. But you must understand it isn’t a condition you should try to keep. Your body wants to return to its normal state. It’s trying to do what God designed it to do. You must let it.” Lydia widened her eyes like she had an idea. That always got Andrew’s attention. “Why, I have just the thing to get you back on your feet!”
“What is it?”
She stood and took her patient’s hand. “It’s in my bag over here.” She skirted the armchair and sat on the divan, then patted the cushion beside her.
Grace sat too and tried to peer into the medical bag while Lydia rummaged in a side pocket.
Lydia gave her a sly smile. “Now, now. Mustn’t peek. This is where I keep all my best remedies.”
The girl crinkled her nose. “I don’t want to take medicine.”
“And I don’t believe you need any medicine. I’ll listen to your lungs and your heart to assure your mother, of course, but I think there is a whole different remedy for your distress.” She withdrew a wax paper packet filled with soft candy. “My cousin’s wife makes the most delicious caramel chews.”
She opened the packet wide enough for the girl to reach inside. Grace’s fingers had lost most of their tremble. She needed someone—anyone with a confident hand and full attention—to snap her out of the lies that had gripped her mind.
Only one who had fallen into that pit before would know how to help someone else out.
While the girl concentrated on chewing the thick candy, Lydia spoke about the slow, sweet-smelling process of making the delicious caramel. She listened to her patient’s strong heart and clear lungs during deliberate pauses.
After a quick look into Grace’s eyes and a check of her reflexes, she closed her medical bag. “Just as I suspected, Grace, you are in fine health. Is that what you suspected too?”
The girl nodded, then swallowed her caramel and began cleaning her teeth with her tongue. “So, what’s wrong with me?”
Lydia retied Grace’s loose hair bow. “It’s the same condition that currently afflicts many other young people right now. It is fear. For the past few months, you’ve heard adults speak of frightening things no one in the Land has ever considered. Now you see snow when it should be warm outside, and you think of all the scary possibilities. When we dwell on such things, our bodies follow our minds.”
The girl’s gaze darted to the window then back to Lydia. “Dr. Bradshaw, I don’t want to freeze to death.”
“You won’t. But you can’t spend your life hiding by the fireplace, either.”
“I don’t want my brothers to die or the baby when it comes. Or Father. He has to walk to work in the cold. It makes me so scared. Then I shake and all I can think about is how scared I am.”
“But your father is fine and your brothers are safe and the baby is the warm inside your mother’s tummy, right?”
“Well… I guess so.”
“Since no one is in any danger of dying, whenever your feelings get so big you tremble and want to hide, that is your signal to become a special inspector.”
“A what?”
“A special inspector. Just like in the old storybooks, you must look for clues to what is really happening.”
“What clues?”
“Truth clues. Are you safe and warm and healthy?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the truth. Always look for the truth.” She waved a hand about the room. “The weather is colder than normal right now, but are you warm in your house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have all the food you need?”
“Yes.”
“Even though the adults have new challenges to face and they discuss matters in worried tones, are they still taking care of you and your brothers?”
“Yes.”
Lydia lifted a dramatic finger. “Those are some clues to the truth. The Bible tells us to think on things that are true, and this, my dear, is why. So, instead of letting your mind tie your body into knots, use that energy to search out the truth. Understand?”
Grace nodded, then pointed to Lydia’s medical bag. “May I have one more of those candies? Not for myself, but for Mama? I think I might have scared her too.”
That brought warmth to Lydia’s heart. She checked the wristwatch Connor had given her on her last birthday. “Perhaps your mother will get a candy after her next medical exam, but for now, I must hurry to another patient’s home.”

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