by Cheree Alsop
He brushed away the tear, then stared at the streak of wetness it left on his finger. “Father knew by my face that it really was them. He rumpled my hair, the very last time he ever touched me, and we left the hospital.”
“What did you do?” Clara breathed after several minutes had gone by.
Chase’s eyes hardened slightly. “Father carried the Christmas tree and wrapped presents to the corner for the garbage collector, and that was the last time we ever celebrated Christmas. He arranged for closed-caskets, a private funeral, and forbade anyone to say anything at it. He then shipped me off to a boarding school three days later.”
Clara shook her head, her eyes lowered. “That’s awful. I don’t know what I would have done.”
Chase gave a humorless laugh. “I was kicked out or flunked out of every boarding school he put me in. In the end, I ran away.”
“Did you ever go back?” Clara asked as if she couldn’t stop herself.
He nodded. “Eventually. I joined his company, but got caught up in some bad things.” He glanced at her to judge her reaction. “I had a knack for gambling. I got involved with some pretty bad men. Father found out about it and threw me into the streets. He didn’t care what they would do if they caught up to me.” He studied the streetlight. “For me it was the last straw and I gave up. It was a month before they found me. And that’s pretty much where we met.”
Clara’s voice was soft. “So those men were sent to kill you.”
He nodded again, even though it wasn’t a question. “They would have, if it wasn’t for you and Matty. It was me being there that put you in danger.” He rose and stared out the window. “I’m not the hero your family thinks I am. I’m not a good person. I shouldn’t be here polluting your home with my presence.”
“But you came back.”
Chase turned and looked at her, his gaze questioning and dark with self-loathing.
“In the alley, she continued, her eyes holding his. “You could have left us there and escaped, but you came back.”
“I couldn’t let you suffer for what I did,” Chase replied.
“And that’s what makes you a good person.”
Chase shook his head. “I’m not a good person at all. There’s nothing good about me. That’s why I wasn’t able to go with them.” He stopped and clenched his jaw, avoiding her gaze.
Clara rose and put a hand on his shoulder. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” he replied quietly without looking at her.
They stood there in silence until Chase shifted his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said, rubbing his forehead. “I shouldn’t have told you. I need to leave.”
He turned, but she caught his hand before he could reach for the crutches. “No, don’t go,” she said. Her voice carried a note of pleading.
“I don’t belong here,” Chase replied, staring past her.
“How do you know?” she challenged.
When he looked at her, he’d already made up his mind to leave, but she shook her head, begging him to give them a chance. “Please,” she finally said so quietly that he would have missed it if he hadn’t been watching her.
He opened his mouth to say no, then shut it again. He couldn’t refuse her after all the Clarks had done. And that aside, he realized he couldn’t refuse her anything. He didn’t want to agree, but he could never hurt her. He nodded, then brushed his hair back from his eyes.
She smiled at him, a true, heartfelt smile that touched her eyes and made it look like her soul was shining through them. Chase’s breath was stolen by her simple, unassuming beauty. He doubted she knew how pretty she was, and that made her even more beautiful if that was at all possible.
Without warning, she reached up to his face. He shied from her touch before he could stop himself, but she pretended not to notice. She touched the bandage on his forehead, then ran a hand through his hair. “Let me give you a haircut.”
Surprised, Chase almost laughed. “You want to cut my hair this late?”
She shrugged. “Why not? We have time and I have scissors. Besides, Mom said you don’t usually wear your hair this long.” She led the way to the kitchen and he had no choice but to follow.
Clara pulled a chair out to the middle of the linoleum and gestured grandly as though she was leading a king to his throne. Chase sat down and wondered why he felt nervous.
She put a cape around his shoulder to keep the hair from his clothes. “I took Cosmetology in high school,” she said with a small laugh. “You can relax.”
He let his head tip back as she soaked his hair with water from a spray bottle. He wondered why he felt so vulnerable as she ran soft fingers through the strands, checking the lengths. She walked around to the front and combed it forward and then back. She met his eyes and paused with her hand by his cheek. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” he forced himself to reply. He closed his eyes.
She hesitated a minute longer, then ran a comb through the long black strands. Chase willed his body to relax, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he pushed everything else aside, all his anger, frustrations, fears, and sadness, and gave himself up to just being there, to feeling the touch of someone who cared, though he couldn’t answer why anyone would care about him after what he’d told her.
She slid her fingers up, measured, cut, then moved on to the next lock. The quiet snip of the scissors, their soft breathing, and the ticking of the clock above the stove were the only sounds in the kitchen. When the snipping finally stopped, it seemed unusually quiet. Chase forced his eyes to open. He felt dazed and more relaxed then he’d been in a very long time.
Clara stood a few feet in front of him with her arms crossed, judging his haircut critically. Chase couldn’t help the small smile that came to his lips. “Do I pass muster?”
She laughed and nodded. “You’ll do. I left it a bit long, but it looks good with your blue eyes.”
Chase was surprised when she blushed and turned away. She removed the cape, then began sweeping the hair on the floor into a little pile which she brushed into a dust pan. She then dumped it in the garbage can under the sink.
Chase rose to his feet with a hand on the back of the chair to keep the weight off his knee. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”
“Me, too,” she replied. She looked back at him with a smile. “It’s amazing how finding a tree can be so draining.”
“I think we covered the entire lot about three times,” Chase replied.
“And ended up with the first tree we saw,” Clara finished. They both laughed. “You’ve got to love my family,” she said with a smile and a shake of her head.
Chase nodded without a word. Clara met his eyes and hers were sad. “I’d better go to bed,” he said with a small smile. She nodded and he limped slowly across the kitchen.
“Chase?”
He wondered why her saying his name caused his heart to skip a beat. He took a breath, then turned at the doorway. “Yes?”
She hesitated.
“Go ahead,” he prompted gently.
“Is it- is it okay if I tell my family what happened, you know, to your family?”
He nodded and saw her shoulders relax. “They deserve to know about the stranger they’ve welcomed into their home,” he said, his chest tight. He turned and left the kitchen.
Chapter 6
The dreams were vivid that night. Chase tossed and turned as memories swam through his head. He saw Jason, his older brother, working on the old Mustang out in the garage that Father had bought for them to put together. Jason always let Chase sit in the front seat and pretend like he was driving. He even let him rev the engine once they had it all together.
In the memory, Jason stood up and wiped his hands off on a white rag; he had a smudge of grease across one cheek. “What do you think, Sport? When you’re old enough, you can take it out on your first date.”
The memory changed and he watched his dad accept money from a
man in leather pants before he loaded the car onto a flatbed. Dad’s face was tight, expressionless; he never looked at Chase anymore, never really saw him. Chase felt like a ghost.
In the next memory, he was in the backyard with Andrew and Elizabeth. They were playing army, Andy and Lizzy crawling after him as he led the way among the fruit trees at the end of the yard. They wore camo clothing that Mom had bought, complete with black and green paint on their faces. “Where are we going, brudder?” Lizzy asked.
“To fight the aliens,” Andy told her excitedly. “Chase knows where they’re hiding, right Chase?”
“Right,” Chase agreed. He radioed their position on his plastic walkie-talkie and signaled for them to move forward.
“I’m scared,” Lizzy said.
“Don’t worry, Liz. Chase’ll protect us.”
Chase gave her a reassuring pat on the back. “They’re not real aliens, Lizzy. I’ll make sure we all get through safe, okay?”
She nodded, her blue eyes large and trusting amid her curly black hair.
The memory rolled over to one of the fruit trees a year ago. They were wild and fruitless with branches littering the ground. It had been years since anyone had even looked their way. Chase still remembered how the scent of ripe peaches had filled the air when they crawled beneath the trees.
The next memory was of Mom and baby Sara, ten days or so after she was born. Chase stood in the doorway to Sara’s room. He had awoken at her crying, and found Mom rocking her quietly in the varnished rocking chair she’d rocked all of them in at that age. The lights were dim. Mom hadn’t seen him yet, so he lingered.
He could hear her singing a soft tune so quietly that he couldn’t make out the words, but he already knew it by heart. It was the lullaby she sang to him whenever he couldn’t sleep, a song she had made up about a little lost lamb finding its mommy. “Don’t worry little lamb, Mommy is here; by your side I will always be. I’ll hold you close, and keep you safe; for so precious you are to me.”
The memory changed again, and he found himself looking at the closed nursery door. A lock had been fastened to the frame and he couldn’t open it. In his mind’s eye, he saw the rocking chair sitting still and covered in layers of dust with an empty crib in the middle of the room.
This time, when the memory changed, he found himself standing in a cold, dark hospital room. Covered bodies lay on the beds, bodies who had been so alive earlier that morning around the breakfast table. Mom was planning to go out and get one last gift, something she had ordered for Chase. The other children wanted to go, so they all left with the promise of a wonderful Christmas Eve dinner when they got home.
“I love you; drive safe,” Father had said, kissing Mom.
“I will. I love you, too,” she replied. She bent down and kissed Chase on the top of his head, then disappeared through the door and out of their lives forever.
“Mom?” Chase called out in the cold hospital room. He touched the top of his head where she had kissed him, and the tears started running down his face.
Chase woke, his chest heaving as though he’d been sobbing. The clock on the mantle showed 7:23. Morning light streamed through the green curtains. He forced himself out of bed and into the shower, trying to shake the dreams from his thoughts. He shaved, pulled on the clothes Mrs. Clark had thoughtfully cleaned, then limped slowly down the hallway.
Lights were on in the kitchen. When he neared, he heard Clara talking. Somebody answered, and then another. It sounded like the whole family was awake. Chase was about to step into the light when he heard what Clara was saying. She was telling them about the car accident and how his family had been trapped under the water.
The memories from the night before hit Chase like a ton of bricks. He staggered backward until he touched the wall. His knee gave out and he slid to a sitting position. With his head on his knees, he listened to Clara’s softened retelling of his horrible story. He ran a hand through his hair, pausing where Mom had kissed him for the last time. The tears started to roll down his cheeks; when they started, he couldn’t get them to stop.
It had been thirteen years since he’d allowed himself to feel anything beyond anger and loss. Now, exposed, he felt like there was a gaping hole where his heart had been, as if he’d lost his family yesterday instead of so long ago. The pain was excruciating and he held his arms tight around his knees as silent sobs wracked his body.
When Chase finally pushed to his feet, the tears had stopped. Though there was still an aching, gaping hole in his heart, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a darkness that had been lightened slightly after facing the sorrow instead of letting it consume him. He limped back to the bathroom and washed his face with cool water. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments, then turned and limped back down the hall. He took a steeling breath, then stepped into the light.
“Oh, Chase,” Mrs. Clark exclaimed. Her eyes were puffy and she had tears on her cheeks. Before he could move, she threw her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “We’re so sorry.”
Chase looked around the table. Grandpa and Grandma were holding hands under the table and Grandma’s eyes glistened. Daniel was staring at his hands, his face expressionless. Martin gave Chase a smile, though his brow was creased. Clara had evidence of tears on her cheeks. He held her eyes the longest. She gave him a slight smile, and he returned it.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “But I’m okay.”
Mrs. Clark pulled back. “Are you sure? You poor boy. Your poor family.” Her tears started again and she buried her head against his chest.
He patted her back. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have been allowed to spend this time in your home.”
“Really?” Mrs. Clark sniffed, stepping back to see his face.
Chase nodded again. “Really. You guys are wonderful. I don’t know how I could ever thank you.”
“You could stay for Christmas,” Mr. Clark said. Everyone fell silent, their eyes on Chase.
The word Christmas brought a pit to his stomach. He shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t. Christmas is a time for family, and I-”
“You are family,” Grandpa said firmly. Nods around the table confirmed the statement.
“Oh yes, dear. You’re just like one of our own. We’d love to have you stay,” Mrs. Clark pressed. “We’ve more than enough room, and it would be empty without you.”
A knot formed in Chase’s throat at her words. He frowned past it, his brow tight. He couldn’t stay. It just wasn’t feasible. He should leave them to their holiday celebrations.
Matty, who had come to the other kitchen door without them noticing, rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “We have the bestest Christmases ever,” he said. “You’d have to love Christmas with us!”
In that moment, Chase saw little Andrew standing there with his shock of black hair, rubbing his eyes with his favorite blue blanket. Chase’s little brother nodded encouragingly. Chase closed his eyes against the prickle of fresh tears. “Okay,” he said quietly.
Mrs. Clark hugged him again and steered him to the table next to Grandpa. She proceeded to heap an assortment of breakfast foods on his plate, then sat back down next to Mr. Clark and squeezed his hand. Talking began around the table about the day’s plans.
“We’re meeting Samuel and Ilene at the skating rink at 5:00. For those of you who want to help, we’ll be decorating gingerbread men for the neighbors while Dad’s gone,” Mrs. Clark said.
“I want to decorate!” Matty said excitedly. He sat next to Clara and had syrup on his cheeks from the pancakes she was cutting up.
“I’ll take a nap,” Grandpa said. He winked at Chase. “With Grandma.”
“Ew,” Martin and Daniel exclaimed together.
“Dad,” Mrs. Clark scolded with a laugh.
“Too much information,” Mr. Clark said, chuckling. “We should have gotten two single hideabeds instead of one queen.”
“And ruin a perfect Christmas?” Gr
andpa replied.
Grandma laughed and patted his arm. “Now, now, dear.”
“We’re going to Jerry’s to get away from all this mushy stuff,” Martin said, rising. Daniel rose with him, but his eyes were on Chase, studying him. When Chase looked up and met his eyes, Daniel turned away to get his coat.
“Come back in an hour if you want to decorate,” Mrs. Clark said.
Mr. Clark pulled on his coat. “Frost some cookies for me.”
“Yeah!” Matty echoed.
“Always,” Mrs. Clark replied in a singsong voice.
***
Chase was relaxing on the couch in front of the fireplace when a hand touched his shoulder. He looked up to find Grandpa Clark watching him.
“Want to go for a ride?” the older man offered.
The thought of getting out in the fresh air and clearing his head from the emotional night and morning was a welcome one. Chase rose and Grandpa Clark handed him a black coat with patched elbows.
“No one will mind if I use this?” Chase asked.
Grandpa Clark shook his head as he doffed a long green coat and wrapped a brown and yellow scarf around his neck. “They’re community coats, as most things are here. Everyone shares.” He put a worn felt hat on his head and led the way to the door.
“I like that,” Chase said. He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Grandpa Clark threw him a questioning look. “I-I mean,” he stumbled over his words, suddenly embarrassed. “It must be nice that so many people get along well enough to share everything.”
Grandpa Clark tipped his head in agreement. “You’ve happened into an unusual family, son, but it’s a good one. There are tiffs now and then, but there’s love within these walls.” He patted the brick wall beside the front door affectionately, then led the way down the stairs. He opened the passenger door to a small silver sedan and waited for Chase to get settled before he shut the door and slipped the crutches in the back seat.
