Wreath

by Judy Christie

  “You look awfully happy today,” Clarice said.

  “It’s my birthday.” She hadn’t intended to tell anyone, but she couldn’t hold it in.

  “So you were a Christmas baby,” Clarice said.

  Wreath blushed as she remembered her first encounter with the lawyer. “Instead of naming me Holly or Noel, my mother chose Wreath.”

  Clarice laughed. “Well, at least she didn’t name you Jingle Bell.”

  Wreath was relieved to have cleared up one small deception. She looked forward to the day she could wipe all of them from her life, and vowed that once she turned eighteen, she would never tell so much as a fib.

  “Happy birthday!” Clarice said. “Dare I ask how old you are?”

  “Old enough to know not to tell you how old I am.” Wreath cut her eyes at the attorney. “And old enough to know you’re going out of your way today to give me a ride. You were heading out of town.”

  “I’m killing time until the big holiday open house at Durham’s Fine Furnishings,” she said with a wink.

  “You’re coming to the open house?”

  “Daddy and my husband and me,” Clarice said. “I’ve only been in the store a few times over the years, but my father has been a preferred customer for years.” Wreath liked the way Clarice put air quotes around words every now and then, steering the car for a second with her knee.

  “Billy Durham was the first person in Landry to give my daddy a charge account, as a matter of fact. Back when African Americans were not allowed in the front door at some businesses, the Durhams were always welcoming.”

  Wreath wouldn’t have believed that of Faye when she had first started work, but she could easily see it now. “Hmmm,” she said.

  Clarice stopped the car near the front of the store and reached into the backseat, handing Wreath a small present. “I didn’t know it was your birthday, but I bought you this for Christmas.”

  “But I don’t have anything for you,” Wreath said.

  “This isn’t much,” Clarice said. “I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

  “Feels like a book,” Wreath said, ripping into it like a child and smiling broadly when she saw what it was. “My own copy of To Kill a Mockingbird,” she breathed. “Your favorite book.”

  Clarice was smiling as she pulled off, promising to be back later for the party, and waving at J. D., in his usual spot on the bench in front of the hardware store.

  “Good luck with your shindig today,” J. D. called to Wreath as she practically skipped up the walk.

  “You’re coming, aren’t you?” Wreath asked, smiling so big that she felt like she was beaming.

  He studied her face for a long moment before answering. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said.

  Faye looked like one of the stars of a soap opera, wearing a tailored red silk suit and pearls. But instead of looking happy to see Wreath with gift in hand, she was clearly dismayed, giving a quick frown and blowing air out of her nose with a little huff.

  “You didn’t tell me you got a new outfit,” Faye said and pulled a wrapped package from underneath her desk. “I made you one.”

  It took a couple of seconds for Wreath to comprehend. “You think this is a new outfit?”

  Faye sighed. “You look darling as usual, but I wanted to surprise you. That felt tree on that sweater is the perfect touch. I should have known you’d come up with something good.”

  Wreath, still holding the decoration she’d made, looked down at the old sweater with her hurried design covering a hole and looked back at the present Faye held. “You made me an outfit?”

  Faye held out the package, and Wreath started to reach for it as though she’d ever seen one before, brushing the package with the wreath. “Oh! I almost forgot,” Wreath said. She held up the wreath, framing her face. “I made this for you.”

  “For me?” Faye asked, laying her package down and taking the wreath as though it were a priceless antique. “This is beautiful.”

  “I thought you could hang it at your house, since you didn’t decorate much there.”

  Faye cleared her throat and cleared it again, as though something had lodged there. Then she nodded at the package, wrapped in the store’s trademark green paper with a twine bow, Wreath’s idea. “Open yours.”

  Wreath tore into the package, shredding the paper, the string flying.

  “I copied that old-fashioned style you seem to prefer,” Faye said as Wreath pulled the short skirt, blouse, vest, and a tie out. “Part of the fabric is from old linens, a little is new, and I cut that tie down from one of Billy’s.”

  “A Faye Durham original design.” Wreath fingered the silk tie and leapt at Faye, hugging her fiercely. “This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten!”

  “Today’s your birthday?” The woman looked flustered. “I whipped that outfit up as a thank-you present. You should have let me know it was your birthday.”

  Wreath blushed. “That’s even better. No one’s ever given me a thank-you gift before. I’m changing into it right now!”

  When she stepped out, she noticed that the tear in her eye was mirrored in that of her boss.

  The open house felt like Wreath’s own birthday party and Christmas celebration rolled into one, and she was overwhelmed at the affection she was shown.

  For someone who had intended to avoid attention, she received enough notice to warm her heart for weeks. She decided she was glad she had failed at her goal. She could go back underground when school started again. Today, she would soak up the good wishes.

  “That is the most precious outfit I’ve ever seen,” Clarice said, reaching up to touch the vest. “Are those vintage linens?”

  Wreath grinned. “Faye made it for me.”

  Clarice turned away, seeming to wipe her eye, and then rushed to introduce Wreath to her father and husband, who greeted Wreath like a long-lost relative or dear old friend. Each handed her a business card and told her to call them anytime she needed anything, day or night.

  In addition, Mr. Estes, Clarice’s dad, slipped her a hundred-dollar bill on his way out.

  “I can’t take your father’s money,” she whispered to Clarice, but the lawyer smiled and said, “Help someone else along the way, Wreath.”

  J. D., looking downright snazzy in a pair of khakis and a red plaid shirt with a sweater vest, gave her a bird feeder and seed from his store and an envelope with fifty dollars in it. “Thank you for being such a help to Faye,” he said. “God sent you along right when she needed you most.”

  The look on his face was so nice that she didn’t even try to turn the gift down, and she was too embarrassed to ask what he meant about God sending her. She was unsure how you knew if God was sending you anyplace.

  The party was in full swing when the deputy sheriff stepped through the front door, and Wreath ducked into the workroom, heart thudding. More than six months had passed since she’d run away to Landry, and she still expected to be discovered, dragged back to Lucky, and put into the care of someone she didn’t care for.

  “Has anyone seen Wreath?” she heard Miss Watson ask.

  Her heart beat harder, and she gauged the distance to the back door, hating to leave but not wanting to spoil Mrs. Durham’s event by being hauled off by the law.

  “Wreath?” Faye called. “Are you in the back? Someone’s here to see you.”

  Her shoes, bought at the thrift store, felt like they were made of lead as she stepped back into the crowded showroom. For a moment, before anyone saw her, she soaked it in, thinking how different it looked from that first day in June. The smell of fresh pine that she had cut in the junkyard permeated the air, and tall fat green candles lined an old mantel she and Faye had rescued from the trash after work one day.

  “That looks like something we can put to good use,” her boss had said, swerving to the side of the road as she drove Wreath home. Since then, the two of them had made it a point to see what people left by the curb on trash day, in
addition to their garage sale runs.

  A heavy crystal bowl from one of the boxes from the attic was filled with punch made with strawberry sherbet and ginger ale, a recipe Faye said her mother had always made at Christmas. The lights hung by Mitch and Law twinkled, and even though it was only late afternoon, Wreath could see the sun beginning to set through the plate glass windows.

  The bells on the door, so often silent when Wreath first came to the store, jangled again, and Law, Mitch, and Destiny walked in, all grinning and scanning the room. Wreath knew they were there to visit her, and she started to wave, then remembered the deputy again.

  “Oh, there you are!” A woman’s voice rang out.

  Turning her face away from Miss Watson, Wreath intended to run but didn’t. This moment felt so right that she couldn’t walk out.

  “Wreath, I want you to meet Shane.” Her teacher’s voice sounded excited, and the teenager turned to see the handsome deputy smiling at her.

  “Julia has told me how talented you are,” he said, reaching out his hand to shake hers. “She says you’re responsible for all this.” He gestured at the crowd and the store. “Congratulations.”

  “I’m only a helper,” she said, casting her eyes down.

  “You’re a catalyst,” Miss Watson said. “Oh! And this is for you.”

  The teacher handed her a book about fashion design with a red bow tied around it. “I’m enjoying working with you on your drawings.”

  Wreath held the heavy book up to her face and inhaled the smell of new paper. Flipping through the smooth pages, she saw sketches and tips on how to design everything from bedspreads to evening gowns. Not one page had a smudge or a hint of mildew, and the corners of the cover were sharp and straight.

  For a moment she was dismayed when she saw that someone had written in the front, but a tear came to her eye as she saw what it said: “To Wreath—Remember you were designed for something special. Best wishes in the years ahead. Julia Watson, Landry High School.”

  “It’s the most beautiful book I’ve ever had,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

  The deputy gave both Wreath and Julia another big smile, his eyes piercing as they looked at Wreath, and for a split second, the girl’s joy faltered.

  “I’m sorry we can’t stay longer,” Shane said. “I’m taking your teacher out for an early Christmas dinner since she’s going to visit her family tomorrow.”

  “Enjoy your school break!” Julia called out as they walked off, holding hands. “Your outfit is adorable, by the way.” Wreath exhaled the breath she had been holding.

  Faye insisted that Wreath go out to eat with the other kids. “Mitch can drop you off afterward.”

  “But we have all this mess to clean up,” Wreath protested, wanting to go out for a change but reluctant to spend money or to ask the boy for a ride.

  “J. D. offered to help,” Mrs. Durham said, her voice higher pitched than usual. “And Law’s grandparents want to stay, too.”

  “We’ve got lots of catching up to do,” Nadine Nelson said, looping her arm around Faye’s waist. “We can talk while we pick up.”

  Faye motioned Wreath over to the big desk, which had been cleared off and polished. Opening a drawer, Faye pulled out an envelope. “This is a small bonus for all the hard work you’ve done this Christmas season. You can put it in your college fund.”

  The girl, hands trembling, opened the envelope and saw ten crisp one-hundred-dollar bills. “Are these real?” she asked.

  “Just for you,” Faye said.

  Wreath jumped a foot off the floor and tackled her with a hug, topping it off with a kiss on the cheek. “You are the best boss ever!” She hesitated and looked Faye straight in the eye. “And this may sound weird, but you’re my best friend, too.”

  They hugged again. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she said.

  “Come on, Wreath,” Destiny called. “Law’s grandfather gave him money to buy our supper! And you’ve got to tell me where you found that new outfit.”

  On Christmas morning, Wreath built a small campfire, glad she had gathered sticks the week before, and hung her new birdfeeder within sight of the van. She ate an entire package of doughnuts and an orange for breakfast, the citrus smell and sticky juice reminding her of Christmases past when Frankie put fruit in her stocking.

  She read the Christmas story in the old Bible she had found, remembering the passage from the one time a year Frankie took her to church, Christmas Eve. “Fear not,” part of the story said, and she felt protected and loved as the words jumped from the page.

  She had wrapped a new sketchbook to give herself for Christmas, and drew in it for a while after reading the art book from Miss Watson. She gave herself permission not to do any chores for the day and to eat as much as she wanted, including most of a small canned ham, packaged rolls, and a large chocolate candy bar.

  Finally, she wrote Frankie a letter in her diary, telling her about the past few months. I miss you, Mama, she wrote, but I want you to know I’m doing okay.

  Restless in the middle of the afternoon, she gathered up a small package she had wrapped for Law and pedaled over to the row of mobile homes. They looked even shabbier in the bare winter light.

  A pickup was pulled up on the grass, and Wreath had to work up all her nerve to tap on the door. A pretty, somewhat droopy-looking woman opened the door. Before Wreath could open her mouth, the woman yelled, “Law, you’ve got company.”

  Law’s eyes lit up as he walked into sight, wearing jeans and a Landry High jersey. “Wreath …” he said and then stopped as he noticed his mother’s curious look. “Let me get my jacket.”

  “I’ll wait out here,” Wreath said and practically ran down the steps.

  “I was kind of bored,” she said when Law reappeared. “I probably shouldn’t have just dropped in like this.”

  “Are you kidding? This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day,” Law said. He ran his hand through his longish brown hair and lowered himself to the steps. “Have a seat.”

  “Are you sure it’s all right with your mom?”

  “She doesn’t care,” Law said. “I’m killing time till we go to my grandparents’ house for supper, and she’s coming up with her usual excuses not to go.” He shook his head. “She makes life harder on herself than it needs to be.”

  Wreath was surprised as she reflected on his words. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but my mother was the same way. She was so smart, but she couldn’t figure life out like most adults do.”

  “Was?”

  Wreath grimaced, dismayed that she had again used the past tense when talking about her mother. “I meant is. She makes things hard.”

  “Wreath, is your mom in jail or something? You always act kind of weird when we talk about her.” Law reached over and put his hand on her knee.

  He looked so serious and so sympathetic, Wreath couldn’t lie about Frankie. Not today of all days. “She’s not in jail. She’s dead.”

  “Dead!”

  “She died right before I moved here.”

  “Oh Wreath,” Law pulled her close against his chest. “No wonder you don’t like to talk about her. My mom’s messed up most of the time, but I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Wreath breathed in the scent of him, the warm, comfortable scent that she would recognize anytime, anywhere.

  “So your cousins took you in?” he asked.

  “What?” Wreath was momentarily lost in the feel of Law against her cheek.

  “Your cousins? You moved here when your mother died?”

  Wreath jumped back as though burned. What was she thinking? She had five more months till graduation, and she couldn’t be lulled into trusting anyone, not even Law. She had to do damage control and do it in a hurry. “Yes.” She avoided his eyes. “They brought me home with them after the funeral.”

  “I’m sure glad you moved to Landry, instead of someplace else.”

  “Me, too.” Wreath was tempted to lay
her head back against his chest. About to give in to his comfort against her better judgment, her eyes fell on the package in her bike basket, and she jumped up, bumping her head under his chin.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I have something for you.”

  He rubbed his chin, smiling. “It’s not another black eye, is it?”

  “This is something you’ve been wanting,” she said, shoving thoughts of her confession about Frankie back inside and pulling out her cheerful smile.

  “But I don’t have anything for you,” he said.

  “Yes, you do.” Wreath handed him the small gift bag. “You look out for me, and that means a lot. Open your gift.” He laughed as he pulled out a toy guitar.

  Chapter 29

  Business at Durham’s skidded to a halt in the first week of the New Year.

  “Have you ever noticed it’s not nearly as much fun taking Christmas decorations down as it is putting them up?” Wreath asked, pulling a string of lights from the window.

  “Why don’t you wait till I can get the boys over to help?” Faye asked.

  “This’ll keep me busy,” she said, “since we don’t have any customers.”

  The girl had had something on her mind after Christmas, but Faye couldn’t get her to open up. In the last days before Christmas, Wreath had become almost a chatterbox, replaying the details of the open house, outlining the gifts she had gotten and thanking Faye repeatedly for the bonus. When the store reopened for business, though, she was quieter than she had been in months.

  “Are you worried about the store?” Faye asked, boxing up seasonal fixtures while Wreath swept and dusted.

  Down on her hands and knees getting a spiderweb out from under a chair, Wreath twisted her head. “I will be if business doesn’t pick up.”

  “You know January is slow in retail,” Faye said. “You’re the one who told me our business would be best during the last two months of the year.”

  With her legs crossed, the girl sat in the middle of the floor and looked around the store. “I had started to believe things were going to stay good.”