Free Tidings of Comfort and Joy by T. Davis Bunn

"That was what my dear mum used to say to us each year. Never have I felt the need for her blessing more than now."
    "I know what you mean," I said, and turned away so she could not see the sudden rush of tears. "Good night."
    Once upstairs, I searched through my cases until I found my writing pad and a pen. I took them into the kitchen, which was the house's central room. It had no windows, as these row houses were long and narrow, fronting the river on one end and the lane on the other. There was a skylight, and I could hear the snow flick delicately upon the glass. I felt comforted, being enclosed by the house and the walls.I was as far from the threatening night as I could be. I sat at the little kitchen table, and began to write the two most difficult letters of my entire life.
    The first one was to my parents. I had to stop often, because the lines would blur and I needed to see what I was saying. I felt it important to accept fully what I knew now was the truth. I wrote that they had been right all along, that Grant was everything they had thought he was. I asked their forgiveness for all the pain I had caused. I had no excuse for my actions, I said, except for the fact that I had been head over heels in love.
    The second letter was to my former boss at the shipping company. I was brutal in my honesty. I felt I was writing the letter as much to myself as to him and everyone else who would sooner or later hear the news. I said I had been abandoned. I was trapped in a little English village, where I knew no one. And I could not book a passage to America.
    I begged him for help in finding a berth, and I asked for a job. I explained that I had not wanted to send a telegram, because my parents needed to hear the news from me first.But I was desperate to get out of England, and pleaded with him to help me find a way home.
    By the time I finished the second letter, it was after two in the morning. I felt drained and weak. But that was not altogether bad. Hopefully I would be able to sleep and not dream. I was not looking forward to my first night alone in this house.
    Wearily I prepared for bed. As I pulled the covers up and over me, I reflected that this was the worst year of my life. And it was only two hours old.

NINE
    Marissa had never felt like this before. Never imagined an awakening could be so strange. As she lay there, it seemed as though the dark was coming to take her away. It was a struggle to find the breath just to say, "Gran?"
    The shadow in the foldaway bed rolled over. A sleepy voice said, "Honey?"
    "Gran, I'm scared."
    She rose from the bed, turned on the lamp, slipped on her bedroom slippers, and padded over. "What is it, child?"
    "I don't know." Icy fingers seemed to be reaching through her skin, tracing their way up inside her limbs. "Am I dying?"
    "No." Gran was fully awake now. "No, you're going to make it through this just fine. Do you hurt?"
    "Not exactly. I can't move."
    "I'm right here beside you. Do you feel my hand?"
    "Yes. It's never been this bad before."
    "The illness has to run its course. From this point onward, you'll probably begin to feel better."
    But Marissa did not feel as though she would ever recover. Her invisible chains were so strong she could not fight against them. She did not need to sleep, which made it worse in a way. Now the fatigue spilled over from her sleepy times to conquer the moments when she was awake as well. "How do you know so much about this?"
    "Ah." Gran's face looked as though she was glad for a reason to smile. "That is part of my story."
    "Will you talk to me?"
    "You're sure you don't want to sleep, honey?"
    "No." Pleading now. "I'm afraid if I slept right now I'dnever wake up."
    "You mustn't worry about that, sweetheart."
    "I'm not sleepy. Really."
    "Well." Gran gave her face a light rub. "It seems that our midnight chocolate is going to become a habit."
    "You'll have to hold mine. I don't think I can."
    "Don't you worry about that for a moment. I'll be right