Another Cliche Christmas

by Sarah Hualde

  Kat figured she would be the main suspect of the supposed crime. She and only a handful of other family friends were the only ones privileged with spare house keys. But that didn’t matter much. Once they completed the mission, there wasn’t a delicate way to undo it.

  The Millers pulled up in front of the drive, next door. Thad shut down the lights and the motor and placed the keys in his pocket. Any jingling from them could reveal the intruders. The kids giggled to each other and then focused themselves.

  “We must be fast. We must be silent. We must be invisible.” Kat rallied them and gingerly unlocked and opened the front door.

  “Roll your feet when you step.” Thad added, “It makes walking much quieter.” Everyone nodded to each other and entered the dark, sleepy house.

  *****

  Ivy arose, Christmas morning, before the sun. She slid out of bed, warm and comfortable. Her beloved daughter suckled in her sleep and Ivy brushed a finger against the baby’s perfect pink cheek. This was not the Christmas morning she had dreamed of for her baby’s first. But it was cozy and safe and they were together. She cried, mourning the days she’d been apart from her precious girl. Who could have figured, out of ugliness and pain, would come this treasure?

  Just ten months before, after her grandmother’s passing, she had been living in the house of a pimp. She hadn’t known what he was at the time. Ivy shook her head at her younger self. She should’ve followed her inner urgings and left Martin alone. But he had spoken so sweetly to her and understanding about her grief over Mema Annie and her desperation to escape Don. He even backed up her desire to continue her schooling and go to college. She’d lived with him two weeks and then the devil inside him broke loose.

  His compassion disintegrated almost overnight. Their trips out always involved at least one other man, usually middle-aged. Martin would introduce her to the man, sit Ivy in the middle, and then disappear. After a few of these weird occurrences, Martin didn’t even bother showing up for their dates and he was livid when she complained. When his friend Ben tried make out with Ivy, in front of Martin, and Martin did nothing to stop it Ivy got the message. He’d called and texted her. Each communication getting more aggressive and violent, but she ignored them and tried to live her life.

  With no hope for escape, from Don or Martin, Ivy became dead inside and ran on autopilot. Daily routines and the active avoidance of both men was her only focus until a double blue line appeared on her dollar store pregnancy test. She had someone else to live for and she worked hard to protect her baby.

  Ivy couldn’t weep over her past. Not yet. She numbed herself, bracing for the day. If she allowed herself to sink into the sadness, she might never come out again. She kissed the tiny head, soaking in the baby scent that lay thickly in her thin feather soft tuft of hair. It’s impossible for God not to be real, Ivy thought. In these moments He was so near it made her heartache. She wrapped the washed green quilt around her shoulders and walked to the living room. Lydia grinned at her, over her laptop screen.

  “Merry Christmas,” she chimed. “There’s fresh coffee and Christmas Coffee Cake.” Ivy’s heart flipped in her chest, Mema had always baked Christmas Coffee Cake on Christmas morning.

  This moment was destined to be, Ivy thought, comforted, as she took the chair closest to Lydia.

  *****

  Flora’s eyes fluttered open at the bidding of her nose. The smell of brewed coffee drifted a lazy invitation to start the morning. She nestled into Kevin’s shoulder, noticing he too was awakening. He squeezed her close and offered the first prayer of thanks for the day, and then the couple arose.

  The sound of the adults trudging down the stairs and into the kitchen, alerted the three children in the house. They sprang to sitting and shot zealous looks at each other. “Christmas!” Their eyes beamed, and all three charged from their beds and into the living room.

  “When did you do all this?” Kevin kissed his wife and marveled at the trays of treats and the spread of wrapped gifts. The children shrieked and skipped about the room.

  “I didn’t.” Flora answered surprised. “I thought you did. When you came down, to make the coffee.”

  “I didn’t make the coffee.” Kevin stirred in coconut sugar and handed a mug to Flora. She took a tiny sip, searing her taste buds but not feeling a thing. She surveyed their tree, lit and twinkling, the platters of food, and the mounds of gifts. Kevin looked around. “You said we didn’t have money for gifts, like that.” Flora’s eyes welled and she turned from the room to hide her tears. Kevin placed an inquisitive arm on her shaking back.

  “God has blessed us.” She sobbed. “Somehow, He’s done it again.” She explained her theories. The couple wondered over how the parcels materialized into their living room, without notice. They discussed the overabundant blessings of God, going above and beyond the necessary to show His children His love. At the table, feasting on the scriptures and savory, sweet snacks, they all thanked their Heavenly Father and asked for extra favor over their secret Santa.

  Eloise and Ever unwrapped their stacks slowly. Eden burst through bows and ribbons at an eager pace.

  “Sam wanted one of these!” Ever shouted, “I can’t wait to have him over. He’s going to love playing with this!” Kevin winked, at his wife, she shrugged her response. There was no way to know, for certain, who had made their Christmas so exciting. Flora didn’t want to spoil it. She delighted at the moment and reveled in the magic. The mystery would nag at Kevin until he figured it out, still he enjoyed the challenge.

  Once every package was gutted, and all their wrappings decorated the floor in ripped piles and cluttered clusters, Flora announced her gift for the family, a new sibling for her children and a new arrow for her husband’s quiver. No one was as excited as Kevin when she told him how far along she was. He hooted and hollered and spun Eden in the air in celebration. He kissed each young head, announcing “God is so good,” over and over again.

  *****

  Lydia scooted closer to Ivy’s chair at the table. “You want to say Merry Christmas to Ivy?” She turned her laptop to face the teenager who blushed and fussed over her hair. “You look fine,” Lydia assured her.

  ‘Well, hello again Ivy," Ethan greeted his guest through the wireless. She smiled, embarrassed and out of place. “I hear you will be staying with us, for a while.” Ivy glanced to Lydia, surprised. “At least, Lydia and I hope you will.” Ivy sat confused looked to Lydia for explanation.

  “Ethan and I have been talking. We’d like you and Scout to live with us, until you graduate and are ready to brave the world without us.”

  “But,” Ivy started, struggling to find a reason to reject the offer.

  “I’ve talked with Don.” Lydia rolled her eyes, Don never talked to anyone. Ivy guessed it was more like Lydia spoke and Don cursed. “He’s your guardian. I needed his permission for you to live here. After some intense debate,”

  Bribery is more like it, Ivy thought.

  “Mr. Mike from the Mission House and I ...”

  “And me!” Ethan interjected. Lydia had to admit, being married to a sheriff had made Don more compliant.

  “And Ethan,” Lydia smiled, “we convinced him to let us keep you, here, in Honey Pot.”

  Ivy didn't contain her beaming. Lydia was a much better host than Don ever was and with Scout’s father being a non-option, the Everette home was the softest landing pad she could’ve hoped for. It was plain, Lydia loved Scout and the fear that Lydia would take Scout away from her lifted. Ivy thrilled at the opportunity to create a family for Scout, no matter how far removed from blood relations it was.

  “If you’d like to stay,” Ethan added, “there are rules.”

  Ivy shivered and Lydia patted her hand. Rules led to punishments for Ivy. And punishments brought forth fear and pain. “They’re not intense rules, Ivy. But we will need you to commit to them. We’ve even made up a contract, with Mr. Mike, for all of us to sign. We commit to you in exchange for a commitment from
you.”

  “But you don’t have to answer until New Year’s Day. It’s only a week to think about it, but Lyds and I believe you deserve time to make an educated decision.” Ethan’s screen feed shuttered and his word fuzzed. “In the meantime, make yourself at home. Ask Lydia for whatever you need and we’ll do our best. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Ivy responded, breathless and befuddled at the offerings before her. Lydia turned the laptop back to her side of the table and said goodbye to her distant husband. She sent love for her daughter and signed off. Ivy helped herself to coffee and cake and then she spotted the stockings hanging on the hearth. One labeled Ivy and one labeled Scout. This is what home feels like, she marveled. She didn’t trust the feeling but enjoyed it even if it only lasted the day.

  *****

  The Miller family spent most of Christmas morning snoring. Blissful from their previous night’s adventure they slept until noon. Sam and Jess startled their parents to wakefulness by leaping onto the middle of their bed and landing on top.

  “Whoa!” Thaddeus yelped and curled protecting his stomach. Sam attacked his father in attempts to start a family wrestling match. Meanwhile, Jess buried herself under her mother’s arms burrowing deeper into her sleepy embrace.

  “Merry Christmas, sweet baby,” Kat nestled closer to Jess, and the girl returned the hug.

  “Merry Christmas, Mama.”

  Thaddeus sang Christmas carols while swinging the pillows around, popping his children on their heads. The fits of giggles and rowdiness that ensued filled the entire house with warmth.

  Next to the Christmas tree, sat stockings for each kid. Surprised that there were any gifts left, the Miller kids squeezed their parent’s necks with wild thankfulness. They tore into their stockings, savoring each gift, no matter its value or desirability.

  Kat sighed and rested on the couch cushions. Her kids were kids, and their gratefulness often got muddled with entitlement and expectation. This year was different, giving had stirred their spirits. Kat gave silent praise for each smile and each appreciative hug. No amount of video games or dolls compared to the wonder of Spirit-filled joy.

  *****

  Emily cried on her friend’s neck. Mr. Mike dropped her off for Christmas dinner in the early afternoon. He also approved a sleep over for the night. He interrogated Ivy in his usual suspect style, keeping Emily safe and determining if there was any help he might offer to Ivy. As soon as he left, Emily heaped herself on Ivy’s shoulder. She apologized and commiserated with the found lost girl.

  Both teens, old before their time, admired Baby Scout and took turns holding her. Ivy was proud of her and Emily was baby crazy.

  Lydia served each girl a dinner with every Everette Christmas delicacy. The girls stuffed themselves and then added to their stomach’s suffering a slice of pecan pie and a hunk of mocha Christmas log. Lydia missed Joan and Ethan more than she expected but found herself overstimulated by the youths’ celebrations. Enough to distract her sorrow and give her a new excitement.

  Ivy opened her stocking, filled with specialty soaps, grooming supplies, gift cards, and trinkets. Lydia brought out a stocking for Emily too. It contained much of the same supplies and sundries. In addition, each girl unwrapped two special presents. Each received a new study Bible and devotional book. Ivy thrilled at receiving hers. Don had torn her original to pieces and tossed it at her the day he kicked her out. She squeezed her Bible to her chest. Emily wasn't enthusiastic. She debated the existence of a loving Higher Power. There were many questions that need answering before she committed her heart to anyone, especially an invisible Deity.

  The second gift was much more thrilling, for her. Each girl received new cell phones and prepaid phone cards, filled with huge balances. Emily tore into the packaging and promptly entered numbers. Ivy opened hers carefully and cried. This was hers. Hers. Not Don’s not Martin’s. Hers. Ivy’s thoughts swelled in her throat and her crying wailed without waning.

  Lydia hurried to wrap Ivy in her arms and willingly Ivy sank into them. She had no strength left and fighting her feelings was no longer working. Lydia patted her hair as Emily scooted closer and laid her head on Lydia’s knee. Freeing a hand from the older girl, Lydia soothed the younger one. She’d lost Christmas with her baby girl. Instead the Lord sent her two surrogate teenage daughters and an infant. She’d befriend and mother them as much as they allowed for as long as they wanted.

  Scout gurgled and cried in her sleep. “Oops. It’s time for Scout’s dinner, too,” Emily said. Strong and solidifying, Ivy shook the sadness off and stood, like a true mother, ready to tend to her child. Lydia was proud of Ivy’s dedication. At 19, Lydia had found mothering Joan a gifting. But it was a talent that tired her out and took every single ounce of her strength.

  Three years younger than she had been, with a lifetime of trauma and abuse filling those years with a world’s worth of grief, Ivy still set it all aside and put her baby before herself. This girl would make it. She would succeed and be a blessing to the world. God had claimed her, led her, and sheltered her along the way. Lydia would help as much as she could, but Ivy was the Lord’s masterpiece and all the credit was His.

  After Scout nursed, the teens opened her stocking trying to show the baby every pacifier, receiving blanket, and bib. Scout snuggled into Ivy’s arms, more comfortable luxuriating in the smell of her mother’s skin than in her bassinet. She remained oblivious to the excitement, so happy to be back with her mom.

  *****

  Late Christmas night, as Emily slept bundled on the couch, Ivy crept up the stairs to Lydia’s room. The exhausted woman was not asleep. Propped up with pillows behind her back and her worn Bible in her hands, she wasn’t startled to see Ivy’s shadow creep across her duvet. She finished her thought and saved her place with a bright pink post-it.

  “You need something, Hon?” She asked, patting the spot beside her on the bed. Ivy sat down without making eye contact. She swallowed, forcing down the knot in her throat, and urging the words to come.

  “I want to apologize.” Ivy’s voice cracked with each syllable. This confession might cost her the comfy guest room and perhaps even her daughter. She had to do the right thing. Her conscience wouldn’t let her sleep until she did. Her relationship with Lydia could never be one of closeness and trust without it. “I stole your purse. It’s my fault you didn’t make it to Africa.” Ivy dropped her head in her hands and rattled with tears. “I didn’t mean to. I meant to take your purse. I didn’t know it was yours. I needed money. “

  Lydia didn’t reach out to touch Ivy. She didn’t want to interfere with the girl’s speech, until Ivy was ready.

  “After I went to see Martin,” Ivy continued breathing to calm herself. “He came to Honey Pot, to find me. He hurt me and Scout.” She tried to stop up the sobbing before it started. “I woke up the next morning,”

  “Bleeding?” Lydia guessed and Ivy sniffed affirmation. “On the sleeping bag?”

  “I noticed the church was open and snuck inside to get warm and cleaned up. I saw the purse sitting there. I took it. I took the money and left your purse behind.”

  “What did you need the money for? Other than food and stuff.”

  “First, I went to see the doctor. To make sure Scout was all right,” Ivy rubbed her empty belly, a lingering reflex. “I took the bus. I worried I may pass out. At least on the bus if I blacked out I wouldn’t crash. But after the ultrasound, after I knew everything was all right, I heard the doctor calling someone. I thought he was turning me in. Emily had told me about girls caught pregnant, without families. I left. I just left. I left, and I hid until the next bus ride back.”

  It was Lydia who squalled first. Ivy ignored her and continued her story. “When I got back, they’d taken Ms. Lana’s car. I didn’t know what else to do. Something was happening at the church, so I hid there. No one found me.”

  “You lived there?”

  “It was warm and there was usually something to eat
in the kitchen. I couldn’t get in touch with Emily or anyone… Martin had taken my cell. So, I stayed in the attic. Until the night Scout came.” She shifted, shivering. Lydia offered a corner of her bedspread. “Your friend was there. I was still too frightened to ask for help. She was pacing in the sanctuary. So, I snuck into her purse and took her phone. I called for a ride, to go to the hospital. But it never came.” Lydia’s eyebrows rose. "Right after, it started to hurt too much to talk. I wasn't sure what your friend would do. I called you. But you didn’t answer and then I noticed your friend praying and I hid and made it back up to the attic. Scout was born soon afterward. And after that, I was too tired to move.”

  Lydia added up details in her mind. “You cleaned up the building later, didn’t you?”

  Ivy nodded. “I washed myself up in the baptismal. Then I bleached it out. I was carrying the towels to the dumpster and when Kat showed up and found Scout. I was so panicked and so weak and confused. I walked to the library and hid in the bathroom. Waiting out the police.”

  “They never left. They shut down the building.” Lydia pictured the young mother distraught, over weary, and under nourished wandering the cold streets of Honey Pot.

  “I lived in the library, until I couldn’t bear it any longer and walked to the Christmas event.” She dropped down, fitful and fearful. “I’m so sorry. I used a lot of your money. Then Martin sent his friend down and he took the rest. I’m so sorry to ruin your vacation.”

  Lydia sniffled as Ivy wailed. “Ivy, you’re much more important than any vacation. You and Scout, both.” She petted the girl’s faded turquoise hair until Ivy cried herself to sleep.

  Chapter 13

  The usual New Year’s Eve’s party at the Millers moved to the Everett's, so Scout didn’t have to go out in the frigid weather. Kat and Flora brought snacks. Hobo Joe dropped off fudge and carafes of fresh coffee before heading to the Senior Center. There he put on a guitar show for the seniors’ supper. Gus escorted Emily to the party.