“Well, if you’re happy about it, I’m happy.”
“I am. Of course, if the Scum Buster had come from Spencer I’d file for divorce, but it all worked out fine.”
“That was sweet of Brian and Carlton to get you what you wanted.”
“Yeah, I’m going to miss the little buggers while they’re gone.” Kendall’s stepsons were flying to north to spend the remainder of the holiday break with their mother and her new family in suburban Atlanta. “But that’s not the big news! The big news is that David and Michelle are engaged!”
“Wonderful! I’m so happy for Michelle! I know how much she wanted this.”
“Are you kidding? Everybody in town knew how much she wanted this,” Kendall retorted. “If I know Michelle, she’ll be at Beginnings tomorrow, trying on gowns. She’d love to be a June bride and in maternity clothes by Thanksgiving.”
“Well, I think it’s great, if not a little confusing, if you try to define everyone’s relationship.” Michelle was the daughter of Spencer’s older brother, and David was the son of Kendall’s stepfather. Kendall did not use the word “step” to describe either David or his father, who had been part of her family for over twenty years.
Ava was as happy for Michelle as she was for Kendall and Vicky. The happiness of brides-to-be was truly a wonderful thing to behold. They had hopes for a wonderful future with the men they loved, and hope was the stream of life. She remembered what Kendall said Monday night about the love bug and thought about Hilton. She liked the tingly warmth that spread through her body whenever she thought of him.
“Spencer and I are happy about it, too. I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and give you the good news before we leave for church and make our rounds.” In addition to her own family, Kendall had a large number of in-laws in Nile Beach.
“Yeah, I’ve got to get ready for church myself.” Ava and Kendall belonged to different churches. “Thanks for calling, hon. Have a wonderful Christmas, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
*****
Ava was getting into a long-sleeved royal blue boucle dress when Vicky called.
“Will you be all right?” she asked, sounding worried.
Ava laughed. “Oh, I’ll survive. I always do.”
“It’s just a day, Ava. It’ll pass as quickly as any other. But you know where I’ll be tonight. You’re always welcome to join us.”
“I hope it does pass quickly, but I’ll remember your invitation just in case. Thanks, Vick.”
Both Vicky and Kendall knew how difficult Christmas was for Ava. The Maxwell family got together several times a year, but on December twenty-fifth Ava longed to be somewhere else. The wrenching of her heart she experienced was even worse than how she felt on Mother’s Day. The affectionate hugs and kisses from her numerous nieces and nephews only accentuated the incessant ache for a family of her own.
Ava was the middle of three children. Her brother Larry was three years older and her sister Maria was two years younger. Her siblings had a total of five children between them.
She spotted her nephews and nieces first in church, sitting together in a pew, shifting positions impatiently and openly staring at other worshipers with the typical lack of decorum of the young.
They did know enough to greet her in quiet voices. “Aunt Ava!”
“Merry Christmas, kids!” she said, slipping into the pew behind them. “Oh, my. Everyone looks so nice.” The boys wore dark suits with white shirts and ties, and the girls velvet dresses and patent leather shoes.
“Hey there!” Maria greeted from the pew immediately in front.
Ava took the cue and went down the line, kissing each of the adults’ cheeks; her mother, Doris, as well as Maria, Maria’s husband Gregory Frazier, Larry and his wife Joy. Seeing Joy sitting next to her mother made Ava feel a pang of resentment. Her sister-in-law, who’d given her mother grandchildren, had practically taken over the role of eldest daughter, a fact Ava had become more painfully aware of since her father’s death.
The rift between Ava and her mother was apparent even when Gordon Maxwell was alive. It started with Doris’s vehement objections to Ava’s divorce, which she felt was uncalled for. “Adopt, Ava,” she had urged. “It doesn’t make any difference. Once you adopt a child, it’s yours. And you might not have to wait as long as the white folks do to get an infant.”
“Mom, it’s just not going to work. First of all, you know that black people are more likely to keep their babies or let a relative raise them before they give them up for adoption, unless they’re abandoned; and even then the kids often go into the foster care system until the mother can get herself drug-free or get steady work or fix whatever else the problem might be.” She hadn’t said how her husband always wanted a child of his own blood, one from a seed he planted and that would grow and nurture within her body and emerge with features inherited from them both. In many a tender moment between them he had told her how much he looked forward to her bearing his children. After they learned that wouldn’t happen he tried to tell her it didn’t matter, that they could adopt and it would be fine, she knew it did matter and that it would never be all right again. Reactions didn’t lie. Even professional actors who were favored to win the Oscar couldn’t hide their feelings when another’s name was called as the winner…and those camera close-ups let the whole world in on their secret. Whenever Ava saw shock and disappointment on anyone’s face, it always brought her back to that terrible day that had changed the course of her life.
*****
After the service ended the congregation spilled outdoors. Ava pulled her black knit shawl tight around her. The sun shone brightly overhead, but there was a definite chill in the air.
“What time will you be over, Ava?” Joy asked. She and Larry were hosting Christmas dinner this year.
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll be glad to come early if need help.” Keeping busy was always cathartic for her; it helped her forget her troubles.
“Oh, we’ve got everything taken care of. The turkey’s roasting right now. It won’t take the ham long to heat through, and most of the rest was done yesterday. Your mother’s coming home with us, and she’ll give me a hand.”
Her sister-in-law’s words slapped Ava’s ears like a fifty-mile-an-hour wind. “In that case I’ll see you at around three-thirty.”
She made a quick exit, practically running to her car and immediately locking the door. The protective action gave her an odd sense of triumph, like she had successfully escaped from a potentially threatening situation.
Then she saw her mother standing with her arm around Larry’s oldest son, Nathaniel, just before they climbed into the back seat of Larry’s minivan, and her relief slowly evaporated. That should be her in the front passenger seat, her husband in the driver’s seat, her children sitting in the back with Grandma and vying for her attention. But of course she no longer had a husband, and the reason she didn’t was because she was infertile.
It wasn’t supposed to be this way, she thought as she drove home. Not after all these years. She always figured that coping with her greatest life’s disappointment would get easier as she got older, but the longing for a child and the pain of knowing it would never be were stronger than ever.
By the time Ava reached her house she felt better. It was only twelve-thirty, and she had three hours to relax before going to her brother’s. If the situation became unbearable she could probably leave—make her getaway was more like it—by seven. Surely she could make it through three-and-a-half hours. She did get a kick out of seeing her nieces and nephews open their gifts. Once she left her brother’s the difficulty of the holiday would be behind her, and she could congratulate herself on making it through yet another Christmas. Tomorrow she would be busy with last-minute preparations for Vicky’s and Danny’s wedding. And then after that Hilton would be back…
She savored that thought to the point where she drove past the small figure trudging along the street, hands in pockets. When the navy jacket an
d black and blue baseball cap registered she braked and stared into her rear view mirror, then backed up.
“Marcus,” she called after she hit the button that controlled the passenger window.
He tilted his head to look in the car. “Hi, Ava!”
At least he seems happy to see me. “Merry Christmas.”
“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” he answered without much enthusiasm.
“What’re you doing walking all by yourself?”
He shrugged, and Ava knew she wasn’t going to get any information out of him. “It’s cold out. Why don’t you get in?”
A moment later he was sitting beside her. “This your ride?”
“It’s a rental. My car is in the shop until next week.”
“What do you have, a Benz? A Lexus?”
“I can’t afford anything like that. You think I’m rich or something?”
“Well, not big time rich, but those wedding dresses in your window look like they cost lots of money.”
“Some of them do, but I have plenty of expenses, everything from rent on the shop to coffee.” Ava’s sideline of wedding planning was actually nearly as lucrative as her retailing, but she saw no point in sharing that with Marcus. As it was, he had more of an interest in financial matters than any eight-year-old should.
“One day I’m gonna be rich. I’m gonna live in a big house and have a different car for every day of the week.”
She couldn’t resist. “Seven cars, huh? And how do you plan to do that? Mug more women?”
“Nah. I’m movin’ up to the big time.”
Ava took her eyes off the road for a few seconds to glance his way. She certainly didn’t like the sound of that. “The big time? Something more substantial than snatching purses?”
He didn’t answer.
Ava didn’t press it. She concentrated on parking in front of her house. Because she was driving an unfamiliar vehicle it took two tries to get it straight.
“This where you live?”
“Yes. Want to come in?” She’d banked on it, which was why she hadn’t offered to drive him to his destination. She suspected he didn’t really have one.
“Sure.”
Marcus followed a few steps behind as Ava skipped up the few stairs onto the front porch. He reached out and fingered the bristles of the festive wreath that adorned the front door.
“Here we are,” she said, pushing the front door open. Khufu greeted her with a whimpering noise and then sniffed at her before acquainting his nostrils with Marcus’s scent.
“Wow! I didn’t know you have a dog. What’s his name?”
“Khufu.”
“Khufu! What kind of name is that?”
“Egyptian. He was a king of Egypt about four thousand years ago.”
“I like him. I wish I had a dog.” Marcus rubbed Khufu’s back.
Ava gestured for him to go into the living room.
He looked around expectantly. “You don’t have a Christmas tree!” It came out as an accusation.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, don’t you have kids?”
“No.”
“You married?”
“No.”
“Wow. You live in this big house all by yourself?”
It’s a two-bedroom cottage, Marcus, not a mansion.”
“It looks big to me.”
She smiled. “Would you like a soda?”
*****
Ava turned on the TV, and Marcus seemed content to watch a comedy on HBO. She could still hear him laughing when she got to the top of the stairs.
After she changed from her church clothes to black tights and a striped thigh-length sweater she went in the kitchen. She was hungry. Maybe Marcus was, too.
Within minutes she had two grilled cheese sandwiches on a griddle. She looked up when she heard a rapping sound on the wood cabinet and saw him standing there. “Hi. Want some lunch?”
“Yeah. It smells good.” He walked over and stood beside her. “You gonna stay here by yourself all day?”
“Let’s see. In the first place I’m not by myself; you’re here. And no, I’ll be going out in a few hours. I’m going to have dinner at my brother’s house.”
“Will they have a Christmas tree?”
“Yes.” She used a spatula to lift the sandwiches onto plates. “Marcus, isn’t there a Christmas tree at your house?”
He looked away for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s kind of crowded. There’s really nowhere to put one.”
Ava kept her expression impassive, knowing that asking too many questions would make him clam up. She reached on top of the refrigerator and grabbed a large bag of rippled potato chips. “Let’s have some of these.” She sprinkled chips alongside the sandwiches, then held out one of the plates to him.
They were sitting at the dining table when she casually said, “Marcus, maybe your parents would let you come with me this afternoon. There’ll be other kids about your age there. I think you’ll have fun.”
It was plain from the way his eyes widened that he wanted to go. “You mean it, Ava?”
“Sure I do.”
“I know you said there’ll be other kids there, but I like being with you, too.” He grinned at her impishly.
She wanted to hug him. Instead she stifled the urge and said, “You can call and ask when you’re finished eating.”
“We don’t have a phone. I’ll go home and ask.”
“I can drive you if you want.” Even as she spoke Ava knew what his answer would be.
“Nah, that’s all right. I’ll walk. It won’t take long.”
*****
She stood at the window of the sun porch as he took off in a sprint down the street. It was a far cry from the sad little steps he’d been taking when she first saw him. It made her so glad she’d thought of him yesterday when she was shopping.
She went to the coat closet and added the wrapped package she’d bought for him to the shopping bag containing the gifts for her nieces and nephews. Marcus wasn’t talking much, but from what she could pick up it sounded like he wasn’t having a very merry Christmas. There had been no tree in what he’d described as cramped living quarters. She wondered if he had received any gifts at all.
Ava’s own heartache traditionally increased Christmas Day, but that was only as an adult. When she was Marcus’s age it had been her favorite time of year. She felt every child had a right to a happy holiday, but now she knew that wasn’t how it worked. Once upon a time she’d felt it was her right to be able to have children. In the years since she had learned that in life nothing could be taken for granted.
Chapter 7
Everyone at Larry and Joy Maxwell’s home was visibly surprised when Ava appeared with a boy they’d never seen before, but only Doris made a negative comment. “What eight-year-old boy would spend Christmas with people other than his family?” she mused.
“He’s a little boy from Palmdale, Mom. It’s not like his family belongs to the Social Register.”
“Still, you have to admit it’s highly irregular.”
Ava felt a tightness develop in her jaw. It was so like her mother to criticize. “Maybe so, but it’s not illegal. You act like I've broken the law or something by bringing him here.”
“Of course not, dear. You exaggerate.”
Ava looked over at her nieces and nephews. Marcus played well with the other children, and now he looked like one of them as well. When he returned to her house after receiving permission to go with her his plaid shirt and jeans had been replaced by a neatly pressed white shirt, a navy pullover, navy slacks and dress shoes. Ava was certain the change in clothing had come at the urging of an adult, perhaps the grandmother he had spoken of. She wondered about his home situation, for her mother did have a point. She couldn’t imagine allowing any eight-year-old of hers going off to have Christmas dinner with a perfect stranger. Marcus was probably too much for his grandmother to handle, as evidenced by his constantly being out on the street. She was pro
bably happy to have him with a group of strangers who sounded harmless in a family atmosphere rather than out on the streets.
Her nephew Isaiah Frazier came running toward her. “Aunt Ava, did you bring us presents?”
“Isaiah!” Maria scolded. “You should know better than that.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” Ava said, hugging the child.
“It is not all right. Did I tell you what he did on his birthday?”
“No. What happened?”
“I thought I would die of embarrassment. Mom had given him a card with five dollars in it, and so had you and so had Joy and Larry. Well, our next door neighbor, Mrs. Carson, was nice enough to get him a card when she found out it was his birthday. She came over and gave it to him, and when he opened it he wanted to know how come there wasn’t any money in it.”
Ava laughed. “Oh, you bad boy, you!” she said, giving the seven-year-old an affectionate squeeze. “Well, I do have a few presents here…”
“Can we open them now?”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe we’ll have dinner first,” she replied with an air of nonchalance.
“Please, Aunt Ava?”
“All right. I’ll go get them.”
When she returned with the shopping bag, all the children were lined up expectantly except Marcus, who hung back from the others and whose vision seemed to be focused on something on the floor. Ava’s heart went out to him. Even though he was obviously enjoying himself, he was conscious of the fact that he didn’t belong. She experienced that same feeling herself more times than she cared to think about…like at every family reunion, at which she had the unhappy distinction of being the only adult female in the entire group of over one hundred people who did not have a child.
“Okay, everybody, Santa Claus left these at my house for you guys.”
“Santa Claus! Come on, Aunt Ava.”
“Yes, Santa Claus. Marcus, come stand with the others.” She watched his eyes widen as he stepped forward, then reached into the bag before he could notice her watching him. “All right, here we go.” She recited each child’s name and handed them their gift, concluding with “…and Marcus.” She held out the package.
A Love of Her Own Page 8
