Out of Darkness (19 page)

“Oh, you're kidding!” Muff said. Her face was still flushed from all of the cooking. “Work today? You've got to tell Graham Salter there's a limit!”

Henry shrugged. “I drew one of the short straws,” he said. He pushed back from the table. “At least I get double pay.”

◊ ◊ ◊

Naomi and the twins waited in the living room while Henry changed into his work clothes. Like always, she chose the uncomfortable cane-back chair to make sure Henry could not end up next to her on the couch. The twins sat in front of the small tree they had decorated with popcorn and homemade ornaments. Underneath it were seven gifts, six of which Naomi had wrapped herself—two presents for Cari, two presents for Beto, and two presents for Henry. She figured the last one was for her from the twins.

“All right,” Henry said, settling into the couch with a sigh. “Who first?”

“You, Daddy!” Beto said. He rushed a package over to Henry. The twins pressed in close as he tore away the wrapping.

“Huh,” he said when he saw the small cigarette case that they had insisted on purchasing despite Naomi's protests. He studied the shiny surface and clicked the case open. “But I don't smoke.”

“We think it'd be a good idea for you to start,” Cari said. Maybe they thought it would improve his mood. There had been a sign behind the department store counter: “For digestion's sake, smoke daily!”

From the pocket of her dress, Cari produced a box of Camels.

“Cari!” Naomi said. “Where did you get those?”

Cari ignored her and filled Henry's cigarette case.

“I'll get you a light,” Beto said. He came back with a saucer and the matches that Naomi kept by the stove. He set the saucer on the sofa beside Henry. “For the ashes,” he said.

Henry lit one of the Camels and made a show of smoking for a few minutes. He exhaled with his lips tight and pulled down.

“Thank you,” he said as he stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette. “Next?”

Naomi pointed out another gift and told Beto to give it to Henry.

“Who's this from?” he asked.

“Me,” Naomi said. She did not wish him a merry Christmas.

“Very nice,” he said after he unwrapped the heavy gray socks she'd knitted in home economics. “Good to have something warm in the boots with all this cold weather.”

“Now we have a present for you,” Cari said to Naomi. She gave her the one package she hadn't recognized.

Naomi pulled open the paper to reveal a small wooden box pasted over with flowers and pictures cut out from catalogs.

“It's a jewelry box,” Beto said.

Naomi held it up and smiled. “It's perfect,” she said, not caring that she had no jewelry to put inside it. She pulled the twins in for a hug. “Thank you.”

Then Henry squatted and reached under the tree for the gifts he'd gotten for the twins and given to Naomi to wrap. He also dropped something into her lap. The thick rectangle was covered in grocer's paper and tied with string.

“Didn't seem right to ask you to wrap your own gift,” he said. He tugged on his neck and waited.

“Naomi first,” Cari said. “We want to save ours for last.”

Naomi pulled on the string and opened the paper to find a folded length of yellow fabric with a tiny pattern of white flowers.

“There's enough to make yourself a nice dress. I checked with the lady at the fabric counter. And Mrs. Wright said you could use her machine,” Henry said.

Naomi spread the cloth out and stroked it lightly. “Very thoughtful.” She did not say what she was thinking, which was that they'd buried her mother in a yellow dress.

“Good,” Henry said. Naomi could see he was proud of himself. “All right, kids. Open your gifts. I've got to get going.” Henry clapped his hands together. Maybe he meant to show excitement, but it looked more like impatience. Hurry up and be grateful.

The twins thanked Henry after they opened their gifts, a doll and a fire truck. They still had Naomi's presents to open, but already Henry was pulling on his coat. “Boss man and all,” he said. “Won't be home till y'all are asleep. Naomi, make sure to shut off the heaters before you go to bed. You can't be too careful.”

◊ ◊ ◊

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Cari asked Naomi when Henry had left. She poked at the doll's platinum hair.

“Look.” Naomi tilted the doll back so that it closed its eyes, then tipped it forward again. The eyelids with their stiff blond lashes bobbed up and down over the staring blue eyes. The weight of the doll in her hands brought memory rising up in Naomi.

◊ ◊ ◊

Henry had given Naomi a doll just three weeks after he started coming to Abuelito's house to take her mother dancing. She remembered how he had grinned and squatted down to watch her open it. How he had balanced his hat on his knee.

Estella had stood behind him, her fingers resting lightly on his shoulders. Even then, Naomi felt that an exchange of some kind was taking place. She could not be sure what she was giving up. But once she untied the thick ribbon holding the wrapping paper in place, she knew exactly what she was getting.

The doll had dark ringlets, milky porcelain skin, and pink lips parted over painted white teeth. She wore a plaid jumper, and Naomi loved her instantly, with all of her five-year-old heart. She named the doll Nana before she even found her way to
gracias
. And she knew that Nana would get to do the things that she—brown and tongue-tied and full of the wrong kinds of words—could not.

“Naomi, guess what?” Her mother smiled at her after she had said her thank you. “Henry's going to be your new daddy.
¿Te gustaría, verdad que sí?
”

And then Naomi knew that the trade was finished, and she could not go back.

◊ ◊ ◊

“Don't be ungrateful,” Naomi said. “Lots of girls your age would love to have a doll like this.”

Cari pushed it away. “I'm not lots of girls.”

Naomi sighed. “Henry's trying.” Without thinking, she had parroted the words that made her cringe inwardly every time she heard them from Muff or Pastor Tom.

“Henry?” Cari raised her eyebrows and frowned.

Naomi blushed. “
Daddy
. Daddy's trying.”

Beto sat pushing his tin truck back and forth. “I like my present,” he said.

“Yeah, you would,” Cari scoffed. She imitated Beto's excitement when he'd opened the gift. “Oh golly! A truck!” She pointed a finger at him, taunting. “Daddy's boy.”

“So what?” Beto said softly. He continued to roll the truck around his feet.

“Enough, you two!” Naomi said. “Are you going to open my presents, or should I look for an orphanage nearby where there are thankful children?”

The twins scrambled for the last packages.

“Store-bought, and so many colors,” Cari said when she tore into her package and saw the ribbons Naomi had gotten her. “Thank you, thank you!”

Naomi smiled. “And you, Beto?”

Beto unwrapped his gift more slowly. The journal was small, but it had a sturdy binding like a real book. He stroked the red cover with a finger and then touched the pages inside. He didn't say anything right off, but he didn't need to. Naomi could see that she'd chosen well.

“Maybe you'll write your own encyclopedia one day,” Naomi said.

“I like Christmas here,” Cari said, laying out her ribbons in a neat row.

“You should,” Naomi said. It was the first time any of them had been able to buy gifts. In San Antonio, they had made their own presents or exchanged oranges and small bags of roasted pecans dusted in cinnamon sugar. This year: two presents each. They were rich.

◊ ◊ ◊

As they waited for Wash, Naomi and the twins huddled together against the foggy chill. The twins read the encyclopedia they had borrowed for the holidays, the first
S
volume (
Saber
to
Spain
). “Because it's the biggest,” Beto explained. They did not want to run out of reading material before school started back.

Naomi thought for a moment about getting the quilt she'd hidden in the tree, but there would be no way to explain it without giving up her hiding spot.

Their
hiding spot. Before now, she never knew she longed for anything besides the impossible return of her mother. All suffering had seemed connected to that absence, however distantly. But with Wash, want opened onto more want. Pleasure inside of an aching for more.

“How much longer before Wash comes?” Cari whined. “It's freezing.”

“We can have cocoa when we go back,” Naomi said. “Get warmed up.”

“Cocoa now...” Cari moaned. “It is sooo cold.”

“Do you want to go home?” Naomi asked, not thinking for a moment that they would say yes.

Beto shivered. “We do,” he whispered through chattering teeth.

Naomi stared at Beto, then Cari. They had to be really cold. “But what about your present for Wash?”

Cari pulled a small package out of the pocket of her plaid cape. “You give it to him, okay? Your coat is thicker.”

“I tried to tell you,” Naomi said. She made a show of disapproval to hide her delight. “I guess I can stay...”

“We'll rub your feet later,” Beto volunteered. He was already up, stamping to get his circulation flowing.

“And after that, you'll tell us a story about Mami?” Cari added.

“Deal,” Naomi said with a smile.

Beto started to run, and Cari turned to follow him.

“Wait!” Naomi called. They spun around. “No cocoa until I get home, okay? I don't want you lighting the stovetop. And be careful when you turn on the heaters.”

“Yes, ma'am!” the twins called back, running faster.

When they were out of sight, Naomi walked up the path and slid into the tree. Their tree. Wash would know to look for her when he came. She stood up inside, wrapped herself in the blanket, and snuggled down to wait. His touch was all she wanted; everything else was extra.

 

NAOMI & WASH
Naomi felt Wash slip into the tree. “Hi,” she said, opening her eyes. “Merry Christmas.”

He leaned down to kiss her. “Mmm. Merry Christmas. What'd you do with the critters?”

She wriggled out of the blanket and wrapped it around the two of them. “They were so cold while we were waiting, they wanted to go home. I can't say that I mind having you to myself.”

“Ah,” he said, “I like the sound of that. I have presents for them, something that I made.”

“They'll be thrilled.”

“Let Beto pick first, okay?”

She nodded. “They sent you a gift, too. I don't know what it is, though.” She burrowed into her coat pocket for the little package.

He unwrapped a hollow wooden ball with a loop of string attached on one side. He slid out of the blanket and squinted at it in the gray winter light. “Want to get a better look?” he asked.

They ducked out of the tree and saw that the twins had painted the Christmas ornament all over with tiny brushstrokes. The scene was of a river and lots of trees. Their woods. And standing in front were four figures, holding hands. Cari and Beto were in the middle, painted that odd peachy color that meant “white.” On one side, there was a light brown girl. On the other, a darker brown boy.

Back inside the tree, Wash held Naomi tight. He felt his heart might burst. A thing bigger than desire was in him.

“Like a family.” Naomi breathed the words into the hollow of his neck.

“They can't know,” he said.

She pulled back so that she could see his eyes. “About us? This? No. But they know that I love them, and they know that you love them.”

He brought her close again. For a moment, he let himself imagine what it might be like to be a family. He pictured framing out a little cabin with Beto working by his side. It would be deep in the woods, a lost place. So far away that no one would find them. Ever.

He pulled a nail from his pocket, reached up, and twisted it into the soft, crumbling wood of the tree. He lifted the ornament by its loop and hung it there. A few bits of tree flaked off and fell on them.

Wash brushed the debris from Naomi's hair. “It's called heart rot, did you know that? What happens to a tree when it gets hollowed out.”

“I didn't know.”

“Cari and Beto read about it from the encyclopedia.” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “Here,” he said and put something in her hand.

Now she knew why he had made a game of tying string around each of her fingers when she saw him the week before. She moved her finger slowly over the smooth inside of the ring. Then she traced the outside, which was carved with what felt like tiny hatch marks. “Another look,” she said, and she squatted down to look at the ring in the brighter light from outside the tree.

“Birds,” she said. She touched each of the small Vs.

He had carved each one as a wish for lightness, for freedom. Feelings he wanted to give her. Feelings that she gave him.

He took it from her and slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. The gesture brought her longing coupled with despair. They couldn't have that, not in this world, no matter how much they loved each other.

“Wash,” she said simply, and he understood.

“I know you can't wear it when you're out. But when we're here ... And you could carry it with you. If you wanted.”

“I love it.” She walked her fingers up the back of his neck.

He undid the bit of string that held her braid and slid his fingers through the silky strands until it fell down over her shoulders. “So beautiful,” he whispered. She trembled, letting her hands fall to his arms. Her back arched a little as his fingers climbed the front of her dress. He touched each button carefully between thumb and forefinger, starting at her waist. “What's here?” he asked, tracing a slight bulge between her breasts.