The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope)

by VanLiere, Donna

  At one o’clock Donovan’s mother came looking for him in the security office. “I can carry him to your car,” Chaz said. “I’m Chaz. What’s your name, by the way?” She looked him over without answering, and that angered him. “I just watched your kid for you. I think I should know your name.”

  “Carla,” she snapped, flinging open the office door. Chaz picked Donovan up and his little arms dangled over his shoulders. Carla opened the back door to a Chevy Cavalier. “Does he have a special seat or something?” Chaz whispered. She shook her head and he sat Donovan in the backseat, wrapping a seat belt around him. His head wobbled and his eyes opened. “Go back to sleep,” Chaz said.

  “Good night, Spaz.”

  Chaz got his foot out of the way before Carla drove away. “You’re welcome,” he said, shouting at the back of the car.

  He finished his rounds, and just before two A.M. did the final lockdown. He changed back into his jeans and sweatshirt and left his uniform in the locker before pulling a hat down over his ears for the walk home. He walked through the town square; it was fully decorated for Christmas, including the three fir trees that lit up the night. Just past the square, in front of the library, he noticed a man sleeping on a bench with his arms wrapped around himself. Chaz stopped when he recognized him as Mike, the young homeless man he’d met in front of Wilson’s. He wondered how he could sleep out in the cold, and stood watching him for the longest time. He shook his head and walked toward his apartment. He was freezing.

  The air stabbed at his lungs and he coughed when he breathed in. He walked past a row of houses that were still dark at this time of early morning, but stopped when he saw a woman holding a small child in front of an upstairs window. A man laid his hand on the boy’s back and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Chaz remembered his own father getting up in the middle of the night when he was sick as a boy. He couldn’t do much more than his mother was already doing, but he was there patting Chaz’s back and telling bad jokes. Nausea rose to his throat and he hurried down the street.

  He collapsed onto the futon and opened a can of beer. The Christmas lights from across the street lit up the apartment. Why didn’t those people turn them off when they went to bed like everybody else? He drew the blinds but the lights bored their way through the cracks. He hated those lights and the people who owned the house. He hated his apartment and the fact that nothing—nothing—ever changed in his life. It just took place in a different town with a different job and different women. He thought about that, and also about Donovan, and Mike sleeping on the bench, and drank till he passed out.

  Five

  Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

  —Leo Buscaglia

  A slow-moving road plow was in front of me, and I followed it as long as my patience would allow before opting for another route downtown. I made the turn onto Oakdale and noticed a very pregnant young woman on the sidewalk pulling a suitcase with one hand and holding another one under her arm. I passed her but watched in the rearview mirror as she struggled to pull the suitcase. “What in the world?” I said, stopping the car. “Why is she walking around in this weather?” The woman was petite, with unruly shoulder-length blond hair. I watched through the back window as she struggled to keep the mane out of her face. The small suitcase she was holding dropped from under her arm and she squatted to pick up the bag. I peered through the passenger window trying to see if she was heading for a car or bus stop. “What is she doing?” I mumbled as I threw the car in reverse. I backed up alongside the young woman and rolled down the window. “Do you need help getting those somewhere?”

  Tears fell down her face. “I don’t know where I’m going. The landlord kicked me out of my apartment.”

  I pushed the button for the trunk and jumped out of the car, grabbing her bags. “Let me take you somewhere. Why were you kicked out?”

  She put her hand on her belly and watched as I put her suitcase inside the trunk. “I haven’t paid rent in two and a half months. I told him I was going to try to find another roommate because I can’t pay it myself, but I can’t find anybody else. Men showed up this morning to rip out the carpeting and paint the walls.”

  The wind picked up and I motioned for her to get in the car. “Tell you what,” I said. “I live just down the street. Maybe you could call your parents.”

  She shook her head. “They’re divorced,” she said. “My dad’s out west and I haven’t seen him since I was thirteen. My mom’s an hour north but she’s the reason I moved here in the first place. We haven’t spoken a whole lot in the last five months.”

  “Any friends nearby where I can drop you?”

  “No.”

  I wasn’t accustomed to asking strangers to sleep at my house, but how could I just leave a pregnant woman without a home to wander the streets? I could see the headlines: Pregnant Woman Dies of Exposure After Woman Passes Her By on the Way to Lunch. “You can sleep at my house if you like. Maybe tomorrow things will look different.” She blew her nose and nodded.

  My living room was small but warm, with a fireplace on the far wall and an upright piano in front of another. The walls were a shade of green, and at the top, a border with ducks on it stretched around the room. I love ducks and had put the border up myself. The carpet was a soft pile, the color of a rose. The young woman was uncomfortable, her arms crossed in front of her.

  “I hate this carpeting,” I said, dropping the suitcase to the floor. “Please. Feel free to sit.” I motioned to the sofa. She sat down and sank into the green cushions. “Who puts pink carpeting in a living room?” I said. “When I moved in I said I’d change it, but it’s cheaper to cover the walls than the floor. Of course some people might say, ‘Who paints their walls green and tops them off with ducks when they have pink carpeting?’ All those interior designers on TV would just cringe.” My Christmas tree was in front of the window, decorated with a hodgepodge of bulbs and beads. “We really should get acquainted,” I said, sitting in my favorite chair, a dark leather recliner with patch-worn arms. “I’m Gloria Bailey, and I live here alone. I have seven grandchildren that I adore. They’re brilliant, as you can imagine. My—” A door opened, and I winced. For a moment I had forgotten about Miriam. I looked up and saw her standing in the hall doorway.

  “Who is this?” Miriam asked, walking in front of the young woman. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Erin.”

  “I see you have a suitcase, Erin. Are you going to the airport?” Erin shook her head. Miriam eyeballed her. “Are you a military wife?” Erin shook her head again. “Where is the father of that child you’re carrying?”

  I stood up in an effort to save the poor girl. “I’ve asked Erin to stay here for the night,” I said.

  Miriam turned on me. “Here? Are you running a boardinghouse, Gloria? I’m cramped as it is in these small quarters.”

  The hairs on my neck stood on end, and I positioned myself between Miriam and Erin, whispering in that too-loud-to-be-considered-whispering voice, “This is my home, Miriam, and I’ll ask whomever I want, whenever I want, to stay in it.” I turned to Erin. “This is my neighbor Miriam, who’s staying with me for a few days.” Erin attempted to smile but Miriam was ignoring her anyway. “Why don’t you sit down, Miriam, and let’s enjoy a visit with Erin.”

  Miriam crossed her arms and sulked, reading a plaque I kept on the wall next to the fireplace.

  May those who love us, love us.

  And those that don’t love us

  May God turn their hearts:

  And if He does not turn their hearts,

  May He turn their ankles

  So we’ll know them by their limping.

  Miriam shook her head and moved farther away from me.

  I smiled at Erin and sat down. “Just to put your mind at ease—I’m not a psychopath. Are you?”

  She laughed.
“No.”

  “Good. The jury’s still out about Miriam but maybe we’ll all manage to sleep through the night.” I attempted to tilt the recliner back, and Whiskers bolted from underneath it up the stairs. Miriam growled at the sight of him. “That was Whiskers. My roommate. He’s afraid of his own shadow and my grandson’s brown toy horse, Pink. Whiskers is terrified of Pink. I have no idea why. I’ve tried to get Whiskers counseling, but this is clearly something he needs to work through on his own.” She smiled and I leaned back in the recliner, resting my hands on my stomach. “I’ve blabbed on long enough. You’re probably still freezing. Would you like something warm to drink?” Erin nodded. “Miriam, can I get you something to drink?”

  “No,” Miriam said, an icy chill filling the living room as she sighed.

  I got up and walked to the kitchen. “When are you due?”

  “Four more weeks,” Erin said.

  I popped a mug full of water into the microwave and pulled out a package of cocoa mix from a drawer, shaking it. “Is this your first baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you married?” Miriam asked. Erin shook her head. “Where is the father?”

  “I’m not sure,” Erin said.

  Miriam made a long, grinding noise at the back of her throat and stepped closer to the sofa. “I see.”

  “Will you be keeping the baby?” I said, leaning into the doorway.

  “I want to, but…I don’t know.”

  I walked back into the kitchen and Erin spoke louder. “My boyfriend bolted after he found out I was pregnant,” she said. “He just up and left town.”

  “Well, he’s not exactly top-drawer, is he?” Miriam said, sitting. “Men are horrible creatures. They’re all the same, I’m afraid.”

  “That’s not true,” I said, calling out from the kitchen.

  “Well, yes, I agree,” Miriam said. “My first husband was horrible. An actor. A horrible actor, I might add. His mother was worse, a horrendous person with the face of a hawk. But my second husband was pure gold. An English professor. We met when he brought two of his classes to see a play I was in. We had a lovely marriage, but then he took it upon himself to die and leave me a widow at forty-seven.”

  “When did he pass away?” Erin asked.

  “Four years ago.”

  I coughed and choked in the kitchen, leaning onto the counter for support. “Are you okay, Gloria?” Erin asked, leaning over to see me inside the kitchen.

  “Something was hard to swallow,” I said.

  “Things blew up with my mother when she found out I was pregnant,” Erin said. “She put me through college by herself. She can’t believe I let this happen.”

  “Does she know you’re in town?” Miriam asked.

  Erin nodded. “We haven’t talked much, though. I moved here and was living with my best friend from college. I didn’t have anyplace else to go. But a couple of months ago her boyfriend moved to Colorado for his job and she followed him there.”

  “Leaving you to pay the rent alone,” Miriam said. She shook her head, slapping her thighs. “You can’t trust anyone anymore. Remember that next time. You can’t even trust—”

  I popped my head inside the living room, talking over Miriam. “And you have no idea where your boyfriend is?”

  “I’ve tried to find him through former employers and the Internet, but haven’t had any luck.”

  “He’s a ninny and a dolt,” Miriam said. “A worthless combination.”

  I topped Miriam’s voice as I took the cup out of the microwave. “Was he a serious boyfriend, or just…” I let my voice trail off.

  “I thought we were serious,” Erin said, her voice rising. “You can see what he thought of me. How stupid am I?”

  I poured cocoa into the mug and stirred it, adding marshmallows to the top. “You’re not stupid.” I handed the cup to Erin and sat beside her. “You just wanted to believe in love. Who doesn’t want that?”

  Erin shook her head. “Not him. Not any guy today.”

  Mike was in front of Wilson’s again when Chaz arrived for work. He saw Chaz coming but stayed put, leaning against the wall. “Chaz.”

  “Hi, Mike,” Chaz said.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not loitering.”

  Chaz laughed and walked toward the entrance. “Where are you from? Kentucky? Georgia? I can’t tell.”

  “Somewhere around there.”

  “Do you work anywhere?” Chaz asked.

  “Sometimes. The industrial plant needs help once a week unloading a shipment. A few of us show up and they pay us that day. It gets me through the week. I don’t need much.” His beard was thicker than it had been earlier in the week, and Chaz noticed dirt in the creases around his eyes. He wondered where he showered.

  “How long have you been…”

  “On the street?” Mike said. “Six or seven years. It’s easy to lose track.”

  “Does your family know where you are?”

  Mike shook his head and blew into his hands; a small puff of smoke spread out in front of him. “Better that way.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and watched Chaz shift from one foot to the other. “You don’t have to try to say anything.”

  Chaz opened the door to Wilson’s and for the first time in years wished he did have something to say.

  “Four to six weeks! You must be mad!” I stuck my head out of the bedroom at the same time that Erin did. We looked at each other from across the hall and listened to Miriam. I strained to see my watch and groaned; it was too early in the morning to be listening to more of Miriam’s drama. “I did hear you, but how long could it possibly take to rip up floorboards, replace carpeting, and hang new drywall?” We crept down the stairs and saw Miriam cradling the phone. She looked haggard and worn. “It’s destroyed,” she said. “Some of it can be saved, but most of it has too much water damage.”

  For the first time in our relationship I felt something other than aversion for Miriam. “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Insurance will cover two weeks in a hotel, but who wants to stay in one of the hotels around here?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was about to say. “You could stay here.”

  She threw her hands in the air. “My life couldn’t get any worse than it is right now.”

  I turned to go back upstairs. “Well then, breakfast is promptly at seven thirty and dinner is at six,” I said. “If you live here you are expected not only to eat the meals but also to help prepare and clean up after said meals.”

  “I don’t—”

  I didn’t let her finish. “You are also expected to clean up after yourself and keep sarcastic remarks to a minimum.” I closed my bedroom door and wondered what I had gotten myself into now.

  Donovan ran into the security office at nine thirty that evening. “Miss Glory has two women living with her right now,” Carla said to Chaz. “I don’t know what else to do with him.”

  Chaz shrugged and pointed to the sofa. “He can sleep here till you’re done.” Carla kissed the top of Donovan’s head and went to work.

  “What are you eating, Spaz?” Donovan said, running to the desk. Chaz handed him part of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “Peanut butter?” Donovan said. He took a bite. “We need to pack something else for work.”

  “Then your mom should pack you something,” Chaz said. “It’s her job, anyway.” Chaz handed him a packaged cupcake.

  “Oh, yeah!” Donovan said, smiling. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He danced like he’d just caught a ball in the end zone, and raised his hand over his head. “Up high.” Chaz slapped his hand. “On the side.” Chaz slapped it again. “Down low.” Donovan pulled his hand away before Chaz could slap it. “Too slow.” He reared his head back, laughing. His jokes were corny and he drove Chaz crazy with all his babbling, but in a strange way Chaz actually liked the kid’s company.

  “You got a Christmas tree?” Donovan asked, picking apart the cupcake.

  “No. Do you?”

&nbs
p; “No. But Miss Glory gave my mom a big bush with little ormanants on it.” Donovan shoved a bite of cupcake into his mouth. “I told her Santa won’t leave presents under a bush, but Miss Glory said some children on the other side of the world don’t even have a Christmas bush. Is that true?”

  Chaz poured hot coffee into a foam cup. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “What do they have? Like a flower or a piece of corn or something?”

  “I don’t know,” Chaz said. “But I bet they come up with something that works.”

  “What do you use?” Donovan asked.

  “Nothing. I don’t really do Christmas.”

  “Why not?” Donovan said. “Don’t you believe in Santa Claus?” He was wide-eyed and bewildered at the thought of it.

  “I believe in the spirit of Santa Claus,” Chaz said. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “Maybe you could come over to my house and see if Santa leaves you something under my Christmas bush. He knows you’ll be there because he knows everything.”

  Chaz hadn’t celebrated Christmas with anyone in years and couldn’t imagine what that would be like anymore. “I’ve got plans for that day, but thanks, though.”