Tasha's Christmas Wish (9781460341315) Page 9
“I’ll make sure he gets the message.”
Tasha hung up the phone and paced back and forth in her workspace. Why had she cared whether Philip had told his receptionist about her? The truth was she liked Philip. No matter how hard she tried to talk herself out of it, she was attracted to him. It would be a letdown when the dolls were finished, and she had no more excuses to see or talk to him. You can’t drive for twelve hours and then tell someone you just stopped by because you were in the neighborhood.
She opened a bottle of red paint and dabbed it on her mixing palette. She added enough white to produce the shade of pink she desired and prepared to paint the lips on the dolls. Her brush moved over the ridges.
Eli placed a thick piece of hardwood on his sawhorse table. He hunched over a display shelf with a drilling tool in his hands. A coiling line of shavings rose up from the wood. At this distance, Tasha couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but she suspected he was putting scrollwork on the shelf.
Eli kept his record player turned down low, but he had a habit of talking to his wood while he was working. Every once in a while, he would burst out as though he were center stage at the Met, saying things like “Don’t you give me no trouble now” or “You look pretty like that” and “You go right here with this little guy.”
Every time Eli had a conversation with his project, Tasha jumped. The distraction had slowed her progress on the dolls. Some adjustments were going to have to be made if this space-sharing arrangement was going to work.
The phone rang. Tasha continued to paint. She heard her voice on the message machine and then a male voice said, “This is Philip. Just returning your call—”
Paintbrush in hand, Tasha raced across the floor to pick up the phone, “Philip, hi—”
“Oh, you are there.”
“Yes. Listen, I should be done with the dolls by the end of the week. I have to drive into Denver for supplies and to see if some of the dolls I placed in stores have sold.” That was a little bit of a stretch. She could get the supplies by mail order and she could just as easily check on the doll sales by phone. “I could bring the dolls by, if you like.” The truth was she wanted to see Philip face-to-face again.
“All right, but catch me at the office. I don’t want to keep the dolls where Mary might find them.”
He gave her directions to his office, and they agreed upon a time to meet.
Before hanging up, he said, “And listen, Tasha. Thank you—for everything.”
Tasha set the phone back in the cradle with Philip’s last words still playing in her head. When she turned around, Eli loomed over her. Standing about a foot shorter than him gave her a perfect view of his purple-and-brown plaid shirt buttoned to the top. Tasha tilted her head. With the white hair and scruffy beard, Eli had a sort of unkempt Santa quality.
He rubbed his upper arms. “Kind of drafty in this place.”
Tasha nodded in agreement. “It’s the high ceiling.” She looked up. “All the heat rises.”
Eli surveyed the rafters. “Need some insulation is what you need.” He tugged at his beard. “Yep, losing half your heat through that roof.”
“When I get the money, I’ll take care of that.” When I get the money. Everything will happen when I get the money.
For the next few days, Eli came around ten o’clock in the morning and worked through dinner, sometimes taking time off to go have lunch with his wife. More than once, he mentioned that he wished he could work later into the night, but he complied with the hours she’d set. He continued to talk to himself and his wood while he worked. Tasha was still debating whether she should ask him to stop talking, suggest that he leave at the end of the month or just get used to it.
Growing up as an only child had always made it hard for her to adjust to living in close quarters with other people. She and her college roommate had had more than one fight before she realized she was the one who needed to be more flexible. At the time, she had thought that God was dealing with that part of her character to prepare her for marriage and living with another person permanently. What was God trying to bring to her attention this time?
The dolls were completely painted. She put a final glaze on them that didn’t require refiring in the kiln. She attached the head and arms to each body and dressed the dolls in their red sweaters. After the wigs were completed, she combed and styled their hair. She left the Heather doll’s hair long with gentle curls, just like it was in most of the photographs. She set the Heather doll on the counter and combed through the Mary doll’s hair, placing a blue ribbon in the curly strands at one temple.
Tasha placed both dolls on their stands and set them on the counter. She stood back to admire her work. Two beaming faces with eyes that had a human quality looked back at her. She took a step toward them and smoothed Mary’s skirt.
“Hey, Eli. Come and see what I did.”
Eli set down his handsaw and sauntered over to her workspace. This was one nice thing about having another person around—someone to share in the joy of finishing a project.
Eli walked around the table where Tasha had displayed the dolls. Then he looked at the photos she had on the bulletin board. He scratched his chin. “Those are really good. Look just like the pictures.”
“Thank you. I hope Philip, my client, likes them—they’re for his daughter.”
“You’re good at making dolls.”
“Thank you, Eli.” Why did she need to hear that over and over to believe it was true?
“It’s nice to find out what you’re good at and then be able to do it, isn’t it?”
Tasha put her hands on her hips and stared at the old man with the steel-blue eyes. Eli’s comment seemed almost prophetic. “Exactly. That’s the way God made us. We’re miserable if we’re not doing what God designed us to do.”
Eli shrugged. “I don’t know how God fits into the picture. I just know I ain’t happy unless I’m cutting a piece of wood.”
“You’ll have the place to yourself for a couple of days.” While she was sure Eli was honest, she felt a little anxious about letting him work in the studio when she wasn’t here. “I have to deliver these dolls and pick up supplies.”
The long drive to Denver on icy roads wouldn’t be fun, but it would be nice to talk with Philip again and to see his expression when he looked at the dolls for the first time. A romantic relationship was probably unworkable with the distance between them, but she could not deny her growing fondness for him.
It had become really important to her that Philip like the dolls.
* * *
Philip hung up the phone and stared at the certifications on the wall. He’d heard the urgency and excitement in Tasha’s voice. Ever since that night at Grace’s, he had been in a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t sort through.
His nurse knocked on the door. “Candace Dahl is waiting in Exam 2.”
“Got it.” He rose to his feet and headed down the hall. Tasha was different from all the other women he knew, and he could feel his heart opening up to her. A relationship with her, though, would be impractical. She would have to move back to Denver to make it work at all. And there was something else holding him back that he couldn’t pinpoint.
He grabbed Candace’s chart off the door and stepped into the room where the nine-year-old girl and her mother waited. Candace sat on the exam table, a look of expectation on her face.
She smiled when she saw Philip. “Hey, Dr. Strathorn.”
“Hey, kiddo, how are we doing today?” He studied the blood work on the chart. Candace was a cancer survivor in her eighth month of remission.
“I feel pretty good,” said Candace.
Her mother leaned forward, clutching her purse. “She’s getting her strength back. Maybe in the summer she can go out for soccer again. Do you think?”
“Your bl
ood work looks good. That might be a possibility if we stay on this path.”
Candace grinned. Her eyes reminded Philip of his grandmother’s eyes, filled with wisdom. Candace had known more suffering than most people would know their whole lives. Maybe that was what gave her old eyes.
Philip finished the exam and headed back toward his office to record his notes about the appointment. Seeing Candace always brought back his memories of Heather. He was a doctor, but he couldn’t save his own wife. The memories of the last days were right beneath the surface. How much time had to pass before they went away?
He sat back down in his office chair and thought again of Tasha. He knew now why, despite the attraction, he found himself second-guessing his feelings. Caring about Tasha made him feel like he was betraying Heather’s memory.
Chapter 10
Tasha had set her alarm for four but woke up on her own at around three-thirty.
Excitement about showing the dolls to Philip made it hard to sleep. She rolled over on her side and clicked off the alarm. It was nice to wake up to quiet instead of an insistent buzz.
When she sat up in bed, chilly air caused her to snuggle back under the comforter. She drew the puffy blanket up to her neck and relished the warmth. After a few minutes, she pulled back the covers. Cold air hit her legs. It would only be a moment’s cold while she slipped out of her jammies and into the clothes she had laid out. The day is full of such promise. That hope was enough to get her out of bed.
She washed her face, got dressed and drank a hasty cup of coffee. She tossed some protein bars, juice and sugar cookies her mom had brought by in a small cooler. The dolls were boxed and ready to go, and her overnight bag was packed. Yesterday she’d called a friend from her old church who had agreed to put her up for the night.
If the roads were good, she would make it to Denver a little before Philip left his office. She prayed for a clear day with no snowstorms.
Christmas music reverberated from the radio as she drove by farms and little towns. Tasha hummed along to her favorite carol, “O Holy Night.” Smiling, she glanced at the doll boxes on the seat beside her. “Jingle Bells” rang out from her speakers and she sang along, loud and uninhibited.
When she crossed the Wyoming border, she noticed more potholes in the road. A light fluffy snow drifted out of the sky, but melted almost as soon as it hit the ground. The patches of ice she encountered were brief. All the blizzard gates were open and the sky remained mostly clear.
Gradually, fields covered in snow and tiny towns gave way to suburbia and larger towns. As she approached Denver, she saw the glass-and-steel towers against a background of mountains. It got dark early this time of year. The sky was already turning gray when she took the off-ramp from I-25.
She found a parking space a few blocks from the high-rise where Philip’s practice was. Tasha walked down the street holding the doll boxes. Cars raced by on the street, spraying gray-brown snow. A few weeks before, she’d driven by here, thinking of the man who liked her fuzzy bunny slippers. A lot had happened in those few weeks. Despite her best efforts to deny her feelings, she liked Philip even more than she had when she first met him.
The information guide on the first floor listed four other doctors in Philip’s practice. His office was on the fifth floor.
Cradling the doll boxes in her arms, Tasha stepped onto the elevator. As the doors slid shut, she stepped away from the four other people in the elevator. No need to risk having the dolls knocked out of her arms. The door dinged open and she stepped out onto the carpeted floor. She faced a long hallway of offices. Her heart pounded as she read the placards outside each door—Psychological Services, ENT Specialists, Sports Medicine... She stopped in front of the door that read Family First Clinic. Philip Strathorn, MD was second after a Benson Marsh, MD. She shifted the boxes to one arm and wrapped her shaking hand around the doorknob.
In the waiting room, a boy of about nine with a red nose rested his shoulder against his mother while she read a magazine. An older man, with sticklike strands of hair around his bald spot, held the hand of a woman in a wheelchair. The older woman was slumped forward, eyes closed, chin resting on her chest. A woman in the far corner held a bundled baby. She didn’t look up from cooing at the baby when Tasha came in.
Tasha spoke to the receptionist seated behind open glass panels. “I’m here to deliver a package to Dr. Strathorn. I’m Tasha Henderson.”
“Oh, yes, the doll maker. He’s expecting you. If you could wait a few minutes, I’ll let him know you’re here. He’s with his last patient of the day.”
Placing her boxes carefully on the coffee table, Tasha sat in a chair and stared at the Christmas cookies on the cover of the magazine beside her. It wasn’t until she put the boxes down that she realized her hands were sweating. She felt like a sophomore waiting for her date on prom night. What was all this nervousness about?
She flipped through several magazines, not really registering what was on each page. The baby in the corner cried. Her mother rocked her back and forth, singing softly to her. The nine-year-old boy coughed and moaned something about being tired of being sick.
Tasha tossed a magazine on the side table and checked her watch. Only five minutes had passed since she sat down. Why did it feel like an eon?
The receptionist stuck her head around the corner. “Ms. Henderson, Dr. Strathorn’s in his office. Last door on the right.”
Her legs felt rubbery as she picked up the boxes and pushed through the door that led down another long hallway. She passed an empty exam room. Her heart drummed away. That rising sense of anticipation created a tight knot in her stomach.
Her feelings were so tangled. Yes, she liked Philip. She’d admit that much. She was proud of the work she’d done on the dolls, and she wanted Philip to like them as much as she did. Somehow his liking the dolls had become a barometer for whether she should continue the business despite the financial stress. If the dolls really could help Mary with her grief, all the financial struggle would be worth it.
She saw the back of Philip’s head. He sat hunched over a pile of papers with a single desk lamp shining on him.
“Philip?” Her voice sounded faint. She cleared her throat. “Philip.”
He swung around in his chair. “Tasha. Good to see you again.” His smile was welcoming, but there seemed to be something guarded about him. He wore a purple polo shirt and khaki trousers. His white lab coat hung over the back of the chair.
She held up the boxes. “All finished.”
“Thank you for bringing them by.” Their hands touched briefly as he took the boxes from her and put them on the desk. “You know I could have gotten them when I came up for Christmas. Saved you the drive.”
“I wanted to get them to you early—in case you want any changes.”
Philip swung back around in his chair. He pointed to the medical journals and pile of papers. “Just trying to get some paperwork done so Mary and I can spend Christmas with Grace. You’ll have to come by while we’re up there.”
“I might do that.” She glanced at the doll boxes sitting untouched on his desk. Was he even going to open them? “You need someone to throw snowballs at, huh?”
He chuckled. “No more snowball fights.” He held his hands up, palms toward her. “Scout’s honor.” He stood and walked toward a filing cabinet. “I can give you a credit card payment if you let me know the amount.”
Come on, open them, Philip. “I hope Mary likes her gift.” Tasha held her hands in front of her and bit the inside of her cheek.
“I’m sure she will.” He searched a filing cabinet drawer. “I know I have that order form somewhere.” He glanced around the office, hands on his hips. He slid open his desk drawer.
The money mattered less than his opinion of the dolls. “Philip, you might want to open the dolls and have a look.”
Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed hard as he slowly took the cover off the first box, the Mary doll. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t read his expression. The relaxed jaw, the examining eyes.
“It’s very nice. It looks just like her.”
Tasha wasn’t sure what she had been expecting. That he would gush all over her? That he would jump up and down gleefully? That he would proclaim that she was the genius doll maker of the universe?
“Really, Tasha. It’s good.”
He must have sensed her insecurity.
Without putting the cover back on, he set the Mary doll aside. He pulled the cover off the second doll and set the top to one side. Tasha’s back muscles tensed. Her throat constricted. He peered into the box. His face paled. His Adam’s apple moved up and down. He gazed at the doll without blinking. His jawline stiffened.
Tasha’s heart dropped into her toes. He hated it. He hated the Heather doll. It didn’t do her justice. Who did she think she was, trying to make a doll of the woman this man had loved? “Philip, if you’re not happy with them, don’t feel that you have to pay me.”
His trembling hand reached out to touch the face of the doll. He slumped back in the chair. “I hadn’t expected...this.”
“I’m so sorry. I can fix her. Dress her differently if you like. I can do something else with her hair.”
He swung around in the chair so his back was to her. “Please go.”
Tasha swallowed hard. She stared at the back of Philip’s head as tears welled up. What a fool she’d been, thinking she could ease a child’s grief with a stupid doll. Philip saw it, too. He was being polite not to tell her. Why wouldn’t he at least look at her? “Philip, are you all right?”