The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope) (8 page)

She put the toaster down with a thud and her pink chiffon robe billowed around her as she moved about the kitchen, flailing her arms. “Nobody warns you about old age,” she said. “It just creeps up on you and makes tracks across your face. It’s terribly rude and inconsiderate. The next thing you know your body sags, your vision fails, and you wrench your back picking up a book!”

“I fell downtown a few days ago,” I said. “I practically tackled a young man I thought was Matt and then my feet just went right out from underneath me. I was so flustered that I forgot to go into Wilson’s, which was the reason I went downtown in the first place!” Miriam held her teacup to her mouth and laughed into it. “When I was young I always envisioned myself being fit and lean at this age in the middle of a race with runners half my age. Who was I kidding?”

She ran a napkin back and forth in front of her, thinking. “When I was younger and working so much in the theater I always thought that there would be roles for me. Really dynamic roles portraying strong, vibrant women in the prime of their lives. And those roles are out there,” she said, looking up at me. “For younger actresses. When you hit a certain age you’re no longer strong or dynamic, and forget about the prime of your life. You’re waaayy past that and are relegated to play someone’s grandmother or tottering old neighbor. And I think it stinks.” She pounded the table with her fist. “Age is just a number!”

“Sixty and proud of it!” I said.

She looked at me, bewildered. “You mean I’m actually
older
than you?”

I squeezed her hand. “It can be our secret.”

She sighed, scratching her head. “I was thirty-five when I married Lynn, and my mum was sixty-two. I remember looking at myself in the mirror in my dress and saying, ‘I feel like a teenager.’ And she looked at me and said, ‘So do I, babe.’” She placed her hands under her chin. “I still feel like a teenager.”

I smiled. “So do I, babe.”

She jumped up and started pacing the floor of the kitchen. “I refuse to buy into the
old
mentality.”

I stood at attention. “Don’t sell that garbage around here because we ain’t buying it!”

She held her fingers out one at a time and crossed each one off in front of me as she rattled through her list. “I will
not
go to those ridiculous ‘over-the-hill’ parties with their ghastly gifts, I will
always
pay full price for a movie ticket, and never—I mean
never
—will I go to a restaurant at four o’clock in the afternoon just to take advantage of an early bird special!”

I raised my hand and Miriam clasped it; our hands held together in victory.

Chaz sat on a bench in the middle of the square after work. The wind swirled around his ears and he let it sting his cheeks and mouth. This was what it was like for Mike, except a hundred times worse because he’d stay there all night. The wind lashed at his face and Chaz pulled up his scarf.

He couldn’t take the cold anymore, so he walked a few blocks down to the bar. It was closing, but the bartender let him sit at the counter and drink a couple of beers while he shut down the place. The smell of stale cigarettes saturated the half-lit room. Glasses clinked together in the room behind the bar, followed by the whoosh of a restaurant dishwasher. The bartender turned up the radio in the back and sang along with it, popping his head out long enough to pour Chaz another beer and collect his money. He downed the rest of the beer and walked out the door.

The temperature had dropped since the time Chaz had gone into the bar, and he pulled the gray tuque tight over his head. A car drove around the town square and he wondered who would be out at this solitary hour. It seemed that no one but people like Mike and him were wandering about. The car pulled beside him and the passenger window rolled down. “You live in the Lexington Apartments, right?” He leaned over and saw an older woman behind the wheel.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve seen you walk back and forth into town,” she said. “I can drive you home.”

She looked harmless and he was freezing. “Sure.” He opened the door and slid inside. “I’m not used to seeing people out at this time.”

Her laugh was ragged and tired. “I should have been home hours ago. I was visiting my daughter and her family, and was stuck on the highway for three hours while they cleaned up an accident, some sort of tanker truck.” She threw a hand in the air. “What a mess.”

She drove past the house glowing with Christmas lights, and Chaz pointed to it. “Do those lights drive you crazy in your place?”

She turned and looked at them. “Not really.”

“Somebody said they’ve been up since last Christmas.”

She pulled into the parking lot and snow crunched beneath the wheels. “Yeah, they have.”

He shook his head. “Seems there’s somebody like that in every neighborhood.” He pointed to his building and she drove toward it.

“They put the lights up for their son last year,” she said, pulling in front of the building. “He was overseas in the military and was coming home for a couple of weeks in November. They put up the lights, decorated the tree, and bought gifts for an early Christmas, but he never came. Missing in action. They keep them up, you know, hoping.”

There was nothing to say that could follow that, so he thanked her for the ride and closed the door. He ran up the stairs to his apartment and noticed that the woman didn’t park in front of one of the apartment buildings but drove across the street, pulling into the driveway of the home with the Christmas lights. He stood in the breezeway and watched as she waited for the garage door to open and then pulled in, the door closing behind her.

I tried calling Carla’s apartment throughout the morning. Donovan wasn’t a bother, but I did have deliveries to make to some of my families and wondered when Carla would come for him. We made cookies to pass the time. Donovan sat on the kitchen counter and mixed the batter with great flourish.

“Maybe I can take cookies to Spaz,” he said.

“Who’s that?” I asked, turning the oven to preheat.

“He works with Mom and watches me. We play Spider-Man a lot. He’d love to eat these.”

“Well, take some to him!”

Miriam walked through the front door and looked rumpled from a morning of watching workmen at her home. “Your hair’s all mixed up,” Donovan said.

“Thank you,” she said, hanging her coat.

“It looks like a cat’s been playing in it.”

I stirred the batter and laughed. Miriam’s coiffed look had certainly come undone since she moved in. I said it was because she was finally feeling at home and letting her guard down. She said it was because most of her products were covered with mold in the swamp that was once her bathroom. I offered to let her use my products but she said she didn’t use retail, whatever that meant.

Miriam dipped her finger into the batter and put a dab on the end of Donovan’s nose. “How long might this lad be staying with us?”

“His mother will be taking him home today,” I said. “But I do need to run things to some folks and I need to pick up a few bags of hats and gloves at Wilson’s. Would you like to stay here with Donovan or run the errands for me?”

Miriam clacked her tongue, thinking. She watched Donovan make a batter mess on the countertop and then wipe it on his pants. “I’ll opt for the errands.”

Miriam hadn’t thought much about what I did throughout the day, but when she pulled into the driveway of Lila Hofstetter’s place to drop off a bag of children’s clothes she felt unsettled. Who was this woman and what was she supposed to say to her? Lila threw open the door and launched into a series of doctor appointment stories, each one longer and more meandering than the last. Miriam hung on to the storm door by her fingertips, letting it close farther after each story, but Lila rambled on. As it inched closed Miriam declined Lila’s offer to come in for coffee and bolted for the car. “I should have stayed with the kid,” Miriam said out loud, searching the map for the next street.

She took a box filled with plates, towels, and sheets to an elderly woman named Carol, who lived near the River Road housing development. Miriam sat slumped in her seat, certain the car would come under gunfire, hooligans pouring out from all sides around her. Her eyes scanned front, back, side to side, front, back, side to side. She snatched up her purse and threw it into the trunk, then slammed it shut. Carol answered her door and Miriam screamed as a small wiry dog named Bennie sprang past her. Carol squealed, imploring Miriam to bring him back. Miriam darted across the parking lot in chase, but the dog ran beneath a car and began to shake. Miriam bent over and made kissing noises in his direction. “Here, dog,” she purred. “Come to Auntie Miriam.” He lifted a paw and ran his tongue from top to bottom. “Oh, you insolent cur,” she said, breathless. Miriam squatted and snapped her fingers. She sighed, watching him, then dug through her coat pocket, pulling out a stick of gum. “Lookie here!” Bennie sniffed the air and crawled toward her. She crept backward, holding the gum close to the ground, and snagged Bennie when he took the prize. She ran with the dog at arm’s length, as if he were a bomb, and deposited him back inside Carol’s door. Miriam declined Carol’s offer for a cup of coffee and a bite of banana bread and ran back to the car. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror and groaned, fixing her hair. “This is crude and uncivil,” she grumbled.

She hung her head out of the window on more than one occasion for directions. “Just like a dog,” she said. Art Lender gave her a hug when she handed him a bag of work clothes and groceries, and she stumbled backward. She also declined his offer for something to drink, choosing to get behind the wheel with as few words exchanged as possible. He watched as she hurried to the car and hung his head out the door, shouting, “Thank you, Miss Mary!”

She spun on her heels. “Am,” she said, yelling. “Miri
am
.”

By early afternoon she was exhausted, but still needed to pick up the bags at Wilson’s.

Chaz was called in to work two hours early. There were more and more customers every day, which meant longer hours for employees. He kicked the salt and slush off his shoes and held the door open for an older woman whom he considered to be attractive. She thanked him and made her way to Marshall Wilson at the jewelry counter. “Marshall, I’m here to pick up the hats and gloves for Gloria,” Miriam said.

“She said you were coming and they’re ready to go. Chaz!” Chaz stopped at the top of the stairs and turned toward Mr. Wilson. “We’ve set aside a few bags for Miss Glory in Customer Service. Would you help get those?”

Chaz watched as she walked toward him; she didn’t act like the woman he had pictured in his mind at all. She looked kind of uppity. “Is Donovan at your house?” he asked, leading her to Customer Service.

She made a high-pitched sigh. “Yes! Do you know him?”

Chaz picked up the bags with Miss Glory’s name on them. “He comes in a lot when his mom’s working.”

“He thinks I’m a nutter,” she said. “This morning he told me that my hair looked like a cat had played in it.”

He led her through the store. “That sounds like him.”

“Are you new here?” she said.

He opened the front door for her. “Yeah.”

“I think you’ll love it.” Chaz always hated it when people told him he’d love something. “This is a wonderful place to live. The longer I live here, the more I appreciate it.” He loaded the bags in her trunk and closed the lid. “Thank you so much.” She looked down at his name tag, “Chad
.”
People always got his name wrong but it didn’t matter.

He walked across the parking lot and noticed the pretty blonde he had seen in Wilson’s driving out of the alley between the law office and the store. She didn’t notice him on the sidewalk, but he stopped and watched as she drove past before clocking in for the day.

Dalton and Heddy loaded the Christmas care packages into the back of their SUV and I shut my trunk. Donovan, Erin, and Miriam loaded into my car and I coordinated again with Dalton about delivering to apartments and homes on our lists before meeting at the church that was located on the downtown square. When the temperature was thirty-five degrees or colder the church staff opened the church basement and spread out cots for the homeless to sleep on. They opened their doors at seven and I wanted to be ready. We pulled up a few minutes before seven and I handed a bag of packages to Erin and Donovan and waited for Miriam. “I’ll just wait here,” she said, leaning over the backseat, yelling.

I walked to the rear passenger door, holding a bag. “It’s too cold to wait out here.”

“Just leave the keys,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Come on! I need help carrying these bags.”

She leaned farther over the seat. “Really, Gloria, I’ve been doing this all day and I’m not cut out for it.”

I was losing patience. “Cut out for what?” I said. “Helping people?” Miriam didn’t budge. “Move! I’m freezing out here.” Miriam scurried out of the backseat and I handed her a bag. “The red packages are for women and the green ones for men.” I noticed a woman sitting on a bench in the town square. “Oh, there’s Janet. She won’t come in till late tonight. She doesn’t like to be around people. Take a package over to her and I’ll meet you inside.”

Miriam snapped her head up to see Janet. “I don’t want to go over there and give something to a woman who doesn’t like to be around people.”

I closed the trunk. “Around
lots
of people. She’ll do fine with you.” I made a shooing motion with my hand and Miriam stood still, watching Janet. “Be sure you say Merry Christmas, too,” I said, screaming over my shoulder.

Miriam growled and stepped into the road. Her foot plunged into a puddle resembling a dirty, gray Slurpee and she shook her head, moaning. “I hate helping people.” She shook her foot off and walked across the street. Janet stood up and began walking through the square. Miriam hurried before Janet got away, calling out, “Yoo-hoo. Hello there,” as she ran after her.

Janet turned and Miriam waved the package in the air. “For you.” Janet took the box but didn’t say anything. “Some things…from Gloria…I mean Miss Glory…for you.” Miriam stopped, aware of how awkward she sounded. “And happy Christmas.” Miriam looked up and saw Chaz watching her from the entrance of Wilson’s. She shrugged her shoulders and heaved the bag onto her hip, heading for the church.

Carla awoke at seven that evening. She was sore and groaned as she sat on the edge of the bed, and tears filled her eyes. There was no way out. She couldn’t call the police and report Thomas; if she did she ran the risk of DFS discovering he was abusive and putting Donovan into a foster home again. She just had to figure out a way to keep Donovan away from Thomas until she could think of a way to get rid of him once and for all. She stood up and the pain in her ribs took her breath away, making her fall back onto the bed.

She cracked open the bedroom door and listened to hear whether Thomas was in the apartment. She inched her way to the front door and made sure the dead bolt and the chain lock were both secured, and then stepped into the shower. Her mother’s voice rang through her head. She had attracted losers her whole life. The only male who had been faithful and who really loved her was Donovan, and she was at risk of losing him.

At eight o’clock she opened the front door and ran into Thomas. He pulled her close to him and she screamed in pain.

“Get back inside,” he said, gripping her arm.

She felt panic swell in her chest, but she ripped her arm away. “I have to pick up Donovan and take him to another sitter before work.”

“To hell with the kid,” Thomas said. “He’s fine.” He’d been drinking; she tasted it when he pressed his mouth over hers and she winced as he held her.

She pushed away and stumbled to the parking lot.

At nine o’clock Chaz slipped into the security office and dialed information for the number of the state police in Kentucky, a state he picked at random just because Mike had a southern accent. He didn’t know who to talk to, but thought someone might be able to go through missing person files or something to see if any of them were Mike. He was transferred twice, and then ended up with someone’s voice mail. “It’s stupid to call so late at night,” he said out loud, and hung up the phone.

Donovan ran into the office and leaped for Chaz’s neck. Carla stood in the doorway and Chaz waved. She slinked out the door and he opened his bag for Donovan to pick the sandwich he’d want to eat.

“Hey,” Chaz said. “I met your friend Miss Glory today.”

“I stayed at her house.”

“I know. She seems nice.”

“She is nice,” Donovan said. “Mom said I need to know her address just in case I get lost or something, so I remembered 814 Maple and got two things of SweeTarts for it.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Chaz said.

“We made cookies and she gave me some to bring to you, but I ate ’em all.”

“Thanks! She said you told her it looked like a cat played in her hair.”

Donovan chomped down on the sandwich. “I didn’t say that to her. I said that to the other lady.”

“She thought you said it to her,” Chaz said. “That’s pretty funny, though.”

Donovan laughed at himself, and bits of sandwich blew out of his mouth. Chaz jumped and pretended to be grossed out, which made Donovan laugh even harder. Chaz’s night always seemed to go faster when Donovan was around.

Erin pushed my door open at midnight. “Gloria! I think my water just broke.”

My feet hit the floor and Whiskers bolted out the door. “Get in the car!” I groped for the light and pulled a sweatshirt that was lying on the end of the bed over my nightshirt. “Get dressed first, then get in the car. I shouldn’t have let you help deliver those packages. It was too much for you.” I pulled a pair of sweatpants from a drawer, and paused when I realized they in no way matched my shirt. “Where’re my keys?” I pulled on the sweatpants and dug through the pockets before screaming, “Your keys are in your purse, you idiot!” I ran into the hall and grabbed Erin’s arm. “It’s early.”

“I know it’s early,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“I mean the baby. The baby’s early.” Miriam squinted up the stairs as I led Erin down. “She’s having the baby. She’s having the baby!” Miriam turned in circles and felt up and down her body. I waved my arm, yelling, “It’s your gown! You’re wearing your gown.” I realized I was saying everything twice but couldn’t think long enough to fix the problem. “Go get your robe. Put on your robe,” I said as Miriam tore off down the hall.

Erin groaned and I screamed when she did. “Oh, it hurts!” she said.

“I’d tell you it was going to feel better, but I’d be lying.” She groaned louder and I yelled over the top of her head. “Miriam!” Erin bent over, holding her belly, and I shouted louder.
“Miriam!”