Revelations (the sequel to "Bridging the Divide")

Rachel knocked on her elder sister's bedroom door. She heard a mumble in response. Gently pushing the bedroom door inward, she saw that the overhead light was turned off and the only light came from a lamp on the night-table near the bed. Next to the lamp was a tray with food, drink, and a napkin on it. The food looked like it was barely touched, and the same went for the juice in the glass.

Mara lay on her side in bed, the blankets pulled up to her chin. “Go away,” she croaked.

Rachel didn't budge. “Mara? What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well?”

“No,” Mara croaked. “Now go away before it infects you, too.”

Rachel made a face, then left her sister's bedroom and headed for the bathroom. She found an unused face mask, put it on, and returned to her sister's bedroom.

“Now, then,” Rachel said as she pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. “What's this nonsense? I thought you were doing just fine lately. Our bakery's gingerbread house looks great. What in the world is going on? You're not trying to sabotage our chances, I hope.”

Mara laid on her back and looked at her middle sister. Her face looked very tired. “I'm dying, Rachel.”

Rachel tried not to stare. “You're … you're what?”

“I'm dying,” Mara repeated. “Before the gingerbread house competition began, I went to see a doctor at the Dandridge Memorial Hospital. She ran some tests on me. The results weren't good.”

“How bad were they?” Rachel asked.

“Very bad,” Mara replied. “I'm not sure if I'm going to see the new year begin.”

“That bad,” Rachel said.

Mara nodded.

They were both quiet for a while.

“I'm sorry,” Mara said. “I didn't want to dump this on you before Christmas. I wanted one more Christmas with all three of us together. Maybe we'd even be lucky enough to win the competition. But I'm not sure if the competition really matters anymore.” She coughed. Rachel wiped Mara's mouth with a napkin. “Thanks.” Her chest rose and fell unsteadily with her labored breathing. “I think you were right after all.”

“About what?” Rachel asked.

“Letting the other bakery win,” Mara replied.

They were both quiet again.

“Does Deborah know?” Rachel asked. “About your condition?”

Mara nodded. “I told her yesterday and made her promise not to tell you.”

“Why?” Rachel asked, stunned. “I'm your sister, too. Don't I deserve to know what's happening to my own flesh-and-blood?”

Mara closed her eyes and Rachel thought she saw tears along Mara's eyelashes. “I didn't want you to worry. You always worry when things don't go right.”

“I want things to turn out well,” Rachel said. “Is that too much to ask for?”

Mara opened her eyes, tried to laugh. “I'm the same way. And, no, it isn't.” She sighed, then coughed again. Rachel wiped her mouth again with the napkin. “Thanks. Oh, God, this weekend has been absolutely hellish for me. You wouldn't believe how much I hurt. The medicine doesn't block the pain as much as it used to.”

“I've seen you each day and you seemed just fine, if a little weak sometimes,” Rachel said.

“Then you haven't seen how much I've used Deborah as physical support,” Mara said. “You wouldn't believe how often she cries when we're together. I wipe her tears away; she frowns; we both laugh. But then she cries again.”

Rachel looked down at her hands lying in her lap.

“You've always been the strong one,” Mara said. “Stronger than both myself and Deborah.”

“The price of being the middle child,” Rachel said. “Mom used to tell me that when I had a bad day at school.” She took a deep breath, let it out. “This past month, I've increasingly had to be the support between you and Deborah. As well as the wall dividing you two, in the hopes of keeping you from yelling at each other and fighting.”

“If not for your efforts, I think our bakery would've closed for good by now,” Mara said.

“I had help from my sisters,” Rachel said. “I couldn't have done it alone, no matter how crazy it sometimes was.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door, and then it was pushed inward.

Deborah poked her head around the door. “Is everything okay? I thought you would've wanted some breakfast by now, Rachel.”

“I'm okay,” Rachel told her younger sister. “Just having a nice conversation with Mara.”

Deborah glanced at Mara, and the latter nodded. Deborah came over and sat down in a chair next to Rachel. “Then you know,” she told her middle sister.

Rachel also nodded. “But not until today. You both hid the secret from me rather well.”

Deborah bit her lower lip. “What do we do now, though? Our gingerbread house is almost finished. The competition is going to end soon.”

Mara said, “If I may make a suggestion: Why don't we share our efforts with the other bakery?”

Rachel looked thoughtful. “That's not a bad idea at all. A combined victory, rather than one bakery winning and the other losing. What do you think, Deborah?”

“I think it's a great idea,” Deborah said. “Can I call them and tell them?”

Mara nodded. “Go for it.”

Deborah stood up, leaned over Mara and kissed her on the forehead. “I'm so glad that you're my eldest sister.”

Mara smiled at her. “And I'm glad that you're my youngest sister.”

Deborah gave Rachel a hug and left the bedroom.

---------

Deborah went to the kitchen and used the phone that hung on the wall. She dialed the number for the Polychrome Pantry. The number rang twice and then someone answered it.

“Hello?” It was Julie's voice, sounding surprised and a little nervous.

“Hi, it's Deborah,” Deborah said. “Is your mom there?”

“Yes,” Julie said. “Do you want to speak with her?”

“Actually, I want to speak with both of you,” Deborah said. “If it's not too inconvenient right now.”

“I don't think it is,” Julie said and called, “Mom? Deborah is on the phone! Wants to talk with both of us!”

“One moment!” her mom called back. “Just need to wash my hands. Be right there.”

“Is everything okay?” Julie asked Deborah.

“That's one of the reasons I'm calling,” the latter replied.

“Okay,” Julie's mom said, much closer to the phone this time. “What seems to be the problem?”

Deborah explained about Mara and the idea of combining the two bakeries' competition efforts. “I'm not sure how much time Mara has left. The sooner we get the ball rolling on this, the better, I think.”

“Why don't you bring your gingerbread house here and we'll decorate both gingerbread houses together?” Julie suggested.

“That's a wonderful idea,” her mom said.

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” Deborah said.

----------

Before she left for the Pantry, Deborah made one more phone call: to the town hall. More specifically, to the mayor's office.

Her secretary answered first, then transferred the call to the mayor.

“I trust there aren't any sudden problems?” the mayor asked. “It's almost the day to submit your gingerbread houses for the competition.”

“About that, ma'am,” Deborah replied, “there are some bumps in the road, so to speak.”

“Please explain,” the mayor said.

Deborah did so, repeating what she'd explained to Julie and her mom, followed by Mara's suggestion. “I'm not sure what the rules are about this, but I hope we wouldn't be breaking any.”

“I think we can afford to bend the rule this time,” the mayor said. “And I have an idea about where to exhibit the gingerbread houses.” She told Deborah what her idea was.

“That sounds great,” Deborah said happily.

“But keep it a secret from your sisters for now,” the mayor went on.

Deborah nodded. “I will.”

“This might be the most interesting and unusual gingerbread house competition this town has ever had,” the mayor said.

“No kidding,” Deborah said. “Both bakeries will meet you there.”

----------

Mara hung on, though her condition was gradually getting worse. The Dandridge Hospice Center sent a very nice doctor over almost every day to help take care of her.

“You really don't have to make such a big fuss about me,” Mara tried to protest.

Rachel smiled. “You'd better believe we are. This will be the best Christmas ever.”

“And my last,” Mara said softly.

“That's why we're going all out,” Rachel said. “Deborah is handling the liaison duties and doing a great job.”

“Is that why I haven't seen her as much?” Mara asked.

“But you'll see her again soon,” Rachel promised.

“Good,” Mara said. “It's nice to have a traditional Christmas again. I don't think that we've had one since mom and dad died.”

“They're even going to have someone dressed up like St. Lucia,” Rachel said. “White robes and a crown of candles on her head.”

Mara looked thoughtful. “I didn't know we had Scandinavian ancestry.”

“I'm not sure if we do, but the mayor's mother was from Denmark and her father was from Sweden,” Rachel said. “So we thought: why not?”

“But who is going to play the part of St. Lucia?” Mara asked.

“That's part of the surprise,” Rachel replied. “This Christmas is going to be absolutely magical.”

“I'm glad,” Mara said.

----------

On Christmas Eve, lying on her bed, Mara was brought outside the house and parked in the front yard. The completed gingerbread houses were brought forward so that she could see them. Her eyes widened with pleasure when she saw them.

“They look … amazing,” she said.

“They sure do,” her sisters agreed.

Carolers dressed in 19^th Century clothing came and sang not just American carols, but also European carols.

Listening to them, Mara tried not to cry and failed. “They sound so beautiful.”

“They sure do,” her sisters agreed.

There was a big tree nearby. It was decorated from top to bottom. At the top wasn't the usual star but instead a white-haired angel holding a long musical horn.

“She looks like Mom,” Mara said.

“She sure does,” Deborah said and Rachel nodded agreement.

Under the tree was a large collection of wrapped presents. The presents were given out to everyone who had come to the house. The children were overjoyed with their presents; the adults were somewhat more mellow about their own presents.

Cups of eggnog were handed around, served by Julie and her mother. The recipe was a very old one that had been handed down, mother to daughter, for at least the last hundred years.

Soon after, a circle of people formed an open area in the front yard with Mara on her bed in the middle of it. The children sat on the ground in front of their parents. Someone started handing out unlit candles set in paper holders.

“Don't light them just yet,” the mayor said as she stepped into the open area and stood next to Mara. “This season has been unusual for our town.” She glanced at Mara, then back at the circle of people. “In more ways than one. We're here to celebrate not only Christmas but also one of our own. Mara was the one who decided to keep the Pantry open for business after her and her sisters' parents died. The three sisters have continued to make the Pantry an integral part of Dandridge all year long. This Christmas season, we decided to add a gingerbread house competition. Since there wasn't enough time to complete both houses by today, both bakeries decided to combine their efforts and finished both houses. Don't they look wonderful?”

The circle of people agreed, applauding briefly.

“Ah,” the mayor said. “I believe that St. Lucia is here.”

A short procession stepped away from the circle of people, led by Quentin Ngoma's teenage daughter Catherine. She was dressed in a long white gown, wearing a circle of candles around the top of her head, and holding a large lit candle in front of her. The process went slowly and reverently several times around Mara's bed before rejoining the circle of people. Moments later, Catherine blew out the candle.

Mara tried to raise her left arm, but it only lifted about half a foot before lowering again to rest at her side. “You've made Christmas this year a magical experience. Not just for me, but for all of us.” She coughed a few times. Rachel hurried over and wiped off her mouth. Holding one of Rachel's hands, Mara went on. “This – This – is what, in my opinion, makes this town special. We truly care about each other. No exceptions.” She paused, but didn't cough. “And there's one more announcement to make. Deborah? Where are you?”

Deborah walked up to Mara. “Where I've always been. At your side.”

“Do you want to tell everyone here or shall I?” Mara asked.

Deborah looked over at Julie, standing next to her mother. Julie seemed to think about it, then nodded. She left her mother's side and went over to stand next to Deborah.

“I'll tell,” Deborah said. She held Julie's hand in hers. “There are all sorts of relationships in this world. Some are the typical kind. Friends, family, that sort of thing. Some are business-related. And some, if you're very very lucky, are much more personal, much deeper, more more wonderful than you could possibly imagine.” She turned, still holding Julie's hand, and knelt. “I don't have a ring with me, Julie, but I know that I love you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you do the honor of marrying me?”

There was silence. Not from shock, but from surprise and maybe a little anticipation.

“Well?” someone yelled. “Aren't you going to answer? Tell her!”

Julie started crying, then looked happily at Deborah. “Yes. Yes, of course, I'll marry you. Who needs a ring anyway?”

“Actually, you do have a ring,” Rachael said, handing a jeweler's box to her younger sister. “This used to be our mom's. Now it can be yours.”

“Thank you, Rachel,” Deborah said.

Then Deborah turned back to Julie and opened the jeweler's box. Inside was a beautiful gold-and-silver ring with a dark blue sapphire set in it. Julie held her right hand out and Deborah slipped the ring onto Julie's ring-finger. Then she stood. Everyone watched as the two young women put their arms around each other and kissed. There was clapping and cheering, and even some hooting here and there.

Julie looked at the ring on her ring-finger, but then something moved briefly in the corner of her eye. It was Mara. She had seemed to want to say something else but had been interrupted before she could.

“Mara?” Rachel asked, suddenly sensing something wasn't quite right. “Mara?”

But there was no answer. Mara had left this world. She left her smile and her love behind, though.

Trying not to cry, Rachel closed Mara's eyes. “If only I could've said good-bye to you,” the former said.

Deborah's euphoria over Julie's acceptance of her marriage proposal turned immediately to sadness when she saw what Rachel did.

“Is she?” Deborah asked hesitantly. “Is she … gone?”

Rachel nodded. “There is a new angel in heaven and her name is Mara.”

----------

After Mara's funeral, the wake was held at the Three Sisters Bakery. It was very crowded, with the spillover outside on the front walk. It even managed to be boisterous sometimes. But it was subdued most of the time, the attendants remembering that there was someone who was no longer among them.

“It's just not the same,” Deborah said. “I can't imagine the Three Sisters Bakery being run by just two of us.” She sighed. “Maybe it's finally time to close it. After all, the Pantry is doing quite well.”

“Absolutely not!” Julie's mother protested. “There have been two fantastic bakeries here in Dandridge for the last fifty years. I don't think my parents or your grandparents would countenance either bakery being closed for any reason.”

“But what are we going to do?” Deborah asked forlornly. “There's only two of us now.”

“Perk up,” Rachel told her. “If their bakery can make it with two people, why can't ours?”

Deborah held up three fingers, then two fingers. “Three, not two.”

“That's just the name,” Rachel said. “Besides, Julie's mother and I had an idea.” She looked at Julie's mother. “May I reveal our secret?”

Julie's mother smiled and nodded.

“As a wedding gift, the day you and and Julie are married, you will be given one of the bakeries,” Rachel went on. “All you have to do is choose which one. Julie's mother and I will choose the other one.”

Deborah looked like she was about to cry; so was Julie.

“I don't know what to say,” Deborah said.

“Why don't we make a toast, then?” Rachel suggested. “Everyone have their eggnog? A toast … to the future of both bakeries!” Then she turned to Deborah and Julie. “And may your marriage-to-be last all your lives.”

“Thank you,” they told Rachel. “For everything.”

Deborah added, “Especially for helping to make Mara's last Christmas the best ever.”

“That's what friends … and sisters … are for,” Rachel said.