Finding Christmas

by Gail Gaymer Martin

  For the sake of Connie, she was stuck.

  “So who was your friend last night?” Nita Wolfe asked.

  Joanne swiveled in her desk chair and faced her co-worker, who was standing in her office doorway. Nita was one of those women with a good heart and the spirit of Cupid. If Joanne spent too much time talking with the copy machine repairman, Nita assumed it was a budding romance.

  “Actually, an old friend of Greg’s,” she said.

  Nita’s conspiratorial expression shriveled to one of disappointment. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. He’s a longtime friend who’s been away. Now he’s back in town.”

  Nita perked up as she moved closer. “Married?”

  “No.”

  “Aha.” Nita raised her eyebrows.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You just never know what God has in store.” She put her hand on Joanne’s shoulder. “You’re too young to be alone the rest of your life.”

  “Thanks for the wisdom, Nita, but I can handle my life just fine.” Even as she said the words, Joanne admitted to herself that her life was lacking. She’d made a valiant effort to move on in every area but relationships.

  A movement in the doorway caught Joanne’s eye. She followed Melissa Shafer’s entrance into the office, noted the woman’s eyes shifting from one side to the other. Joanne guessed her motive.

  “Am I interrupting?” Melissa asked, giving Nita a look.

  “Not at all. We were just talking,” Joanne said.

  “Just wanted to see what you did to the office.” She wandered behind the desk and gazed out the large window overlooking the Detroit skyline. “It’s nice to have real sunlight.”

  Joanne opened her mouth to apologize and then closed it. Recently, they had both been interviewed for the same position. Joanne had been given the promotion. “It’s nice, but I’m not sure it’s worth the added work and worry.”

  Melissa grinned. “You worry? Never. You’re too cool and collected, Joanne.” She glided away from the window. “Well, congratulations. You made an impression and I didn’t. No hard feelings.”

  “Thanks,” Joanne said, amazed at Melissa’s understanding.

  Melissa strutted back to the doorway and paused. “You can get back to business.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave and vanished into the hallway.

  Nita’s eyebrows arched. “I like the inflection. I suppose she assumed we were talking about her.” Then she grinned. “I bet you did make a better impression during the interview.”

  Joanne shrugged, already wanting to forget the conversation. “By the way, here’s the novel I said I’d loan you.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out the book she’d brought from home. “It’s a good story, and a nice way to spend a quiet evening.”

  Nita skimmed the novel cover for a minute, then lowered the book and studied Joanne’s face. “All joking aside, you look stressed. What happened? Did your friend have bad news?” She settled her hip against the edge of the desk and ran her finger along a picture frame propped beside Joanne’s telephone.

  Joanne’s gaze rested on the photograph she’d taken of Greg and Mandy at the Detroit Zoo in front of the bear fountain. The sunlight played on Mandy’s blond halo of curls, and Joanne felt a tug on her heart at the memory.

  “It’s a lot of things,” she said, “but nothing that Benjamin said.”

  “Benjamin? He was your midnight visitor?” Nita sent her a perky smile.

  “He left at nine.”

  Nita chuckled. “I’m only teasing.”

  Joanne drew in a long breath and tilted her head toward the frame. “Three years ago today the accident happened.”

  Nita’s focus shifted to the photograph. She lifted it from the desk and studied the picture, then replaced it with sorrow in her eyes. “Oh, honey,” she said, leaning over to give Joanne a hug, “I’m sorry. Here I am pulling your leg, and you’re really upset.”

  Joanne wanted to tell her that her upset was about more than the anniversary date, but she hesitated. “Don’t worry about it,” she said finally. “I’ve had other things on my mind, too.” Still, maybe Nita would understand. She looked into her friend’s serious face. “Do you believe in—” She paused trying to find a word that made sense. “In premonition?”

  Nita looked puzzled. “You mean like a sixth sense?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Women’s intuition?”

  “A little more than that.”

  “A little more, how?” Nita rested her hands on the desk and leaned closer. “What’s going on?”

  “Voices?”

  The word caused Nita to draw back. She straightened, as if she thought Joanne had lost her mind.

  Joanne wondered herself. “Not really voices. A feeling. It’s in here.” She pressed her hand against her heart.

  “You’re hearing things?”

  “I’m not crazy, Nita. The voice is like a child crying for help.”

  Nita’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “It’s Mandy’s voice.” Joanne heard Nita’s sudden intake of air.

  “Mandy’s? Are you sure?”

  “I’ll never forget my child’s cry. Never.”

  “But she’s…”

  “Dead, I know.” Joanne’s heart sank. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I’m hearing it. I keep asking myself what it means.”

  “I have no idea what it means, but I think you should get back into counseling. I’m sure these things happen. Hopefully it’ll pass.”

  Joanne shrugged, feeling defeated. “Maybe.” No one seemed to truly understand, not even Benjamin.

  “Grief is a strange emotion,” Nita said. “It manifests itself in so many ways, and just when you think it’s conquered, it rises up again with a vengeance. You need to keep busy until the anniversary and the holidays pass. They’re difficult times of the year.”

  “You’re right. After the accident, I lost the joy of Christmas…and my life.” Joanne tried to smile but her face felt frozen in a frown. “I need to get a new one.”

  Nita chuckled. “Sounds like you gave it a start last night. You had one pleasant distraction over for a visit.”

  “Don’t start that again. F-R-I-E-N-D. Put those letters together.” Joanne gave her a swat. “Get out of here. I have work to do.”

  Nita edged her hip off the desk. “I came in here for a reason. Feel like Christmas shopping tonight?”

  “Not tonight. Benjamin called a few minutes ago, and I invited him over tonight. How about next week?”

  “Certainly,” Nita said with a grin. “I’d pass up shopping any day for that.”

  Joanne realized she would, too. A sweet sensation wove through her chest. Having Benjamin around made her feel comfortable. He reminded her of the good days when things were normal. No voices. No deaths. Tonight she was eager to have some laughs. If Benjamin did nothing more than give her a few hours of peace, she’d be eternally grateful.

  After Nita waved and left, Joanne tried to pull her focus back to her work, but lost the battle. Her child’s cries remained in her thoughts.

  She angled her chair to face the computer screen and hit the e-mail button. A list of messages appeared. She saw one that made her smile and opened it.

  Hi. Hope you slept well. It was so good to see you last night. Almost like old times. I’ll be in touch. I’m looking forward to it. I hope you are. Benjamin

  The note warmed her heart, and she let her gaze linger on it for a moment before skimming the other addresses. Most of them were business e-mails but there was one she didn’t recognize—Shadow@123go.com. Curious, she hit the read button.

  YOU THINK YOU HAVE EVERYTHING.

  WELL YOU DON’T.

  The capital letters shouted at her, and she peered at the words again, not understanding the meaning. A strange feeling came over her again.

  What did the warning mean? She didn’t have everything. She’d lost everything she loved.

  Chapter Three
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br />   Donna’s hands perspired as she fumbled through the old photographs she’d found in the manila envelope in the basement. She knew so little about Carl. She’d never realized it before. She sensed he had two lives, one he allowed her to see and one he kept hidden. She didn’t like either of them anymore.

  “Mom.”

  Her heart jumped when she heard Connie’s voice. “I’m down in the basement, sweetie. I’ll be up in a minute.” She glanced around the corner toward the staircase to make sure Connie hadn’t come down.

  Donna pushed the items back into the metal box she’d found in the closet under the stairs. Old newspaper clippings, photographs, things she didn’t have time to scrutinize. She was ashamed of herself for being so suspicious, but the more Carl pushed her away and the more volatile he became, the more she wanted to know about him. Maybe if she learned something significant she could forgive him—or if not, have the power to escape.

  A photograph fell to the floor, and Donna reached to retrieve it.

  “Where are you?”

  Donna’s chest tightened at the sound of Connie’s voice so near. She slipped the photo into her pants pocket, then snapped the lid on the box and slid it back into its hiding place.

  “Right here, sweetie.”

  Donna came around the corner and met Connie head-on. “Oops. Let’s get upstairs.”

  “Whatcha doing?”

  Her mind scrambled. “I was looking for something I misplaced. It’s not here.”

  Connie gave her a questioning look, then skipped up the stairs ahead of her, calling back, “Can I have a snack?”

  “Fruit,” Donna said, following her into the kitchen. “How was school?”

  Donna rinsed off an apple and handed it to Connie while she listened to her tales of the “bad boys” in her class, Connie’s recess escapades and a star she had received for helping a girl with math.

  As Donna began dinner, she watched the child—her animation, her blond ponytail swinging back and forth and her blue eyes wide with excitement. Donna sensed that Connie felt closer to her than to her father, and her heart swelled.

  When Connie had finished her story and bounded off to change her school clothes, Donna slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the photo. She needed to get it back into the envelope before Carl found it and punished her for snooping—as he called it—but she believed a wife deserved to know something about her husband’s past.

  When she lowered her gaze to the photograph, Donna’s heart stopped. Looking like he did before she married him, Carl stood outside a large brick home beside a dark-haired woman who held a toddler in her arms. Donna looked closer, trying to make sense out of the picture. If this was Carl’s deceased wife and Connie, something was terribly wrong.

  This child had dark hair like her parents. Connie was blond.

  Benjamin came through the front door in the wake of a cold wind. Joanne struggled to push the door closed.

  “I think that’s what they mean by blowing into town,” he said, sliding off his jacket.

  Joanne laughed. “I should have told you not to come over tonight.”

  “No, I should have taken you out. There’s a nice rhythm and blues group at the Java Café. You’d probably enjoy them.”

  “I might,” she said, motioning him into the living room.

  He went ahead of her and settled into a recliner, then clicked up the footrest while she sank into a comfy chair nearby. “I hope you wanted me to make myself at home.”

  She grinned again. Benjamin always seemed at home when he visited. He was the kind of easygoing guy she admired.

  They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, eyes turned to the window.

  “It’s snowing again,” she said finally. “The ski resorts must be thrilled.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Her gaze drifted to him, and she realized he was studying her. His look left her uneasy. “Is something wrong?”

  He gave a quick nod. “I’m just thinking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “You and the voice. How’s it going?”

  Again she didn’t like the flippant way he asked, but she knew he hadn’t meant it to sound callous. “I haven’t called the shrink yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “No, not that,” he said, scrutinizing her, “but something else happened today.”

  “Yes, it did,” she replied, wondering how he could tell. “This time at work.”

  “A phone call?”

  “No. An e-mail. It was strange.”

  “Strange how?”

  She told him about the message and how edgy it had made her.

  “It’s the same as a wrong telephone number. It’s easy to mix up an e-mail address. I’d guess it wasn’t meant for you.”

  “Probably.” She pushed her uncomfortable thoughts aside.

  “And it wasn’t really a threat, but just in case, save it when you’re at work tomorrow.”

  “Why, if it’s nothing?”

  “I’ll mention it to my detective friend Hank Cortezi and see what he thinks.”

  “No. Don’t.” Panic settled in her chest. “I’ve already made a fool of myself. Let’s drop it. I’m sure it was sent to me by mistake.”

  Benjamin leaned closer, his face strained. “I’m worried about you, Joanne.”

  “I’m trying to reconcile myself to what it means, Benjamin. I know the snow, the holidays, make me nostalgic. It’s happened every year since they’ve been gone. The year they died I’d gone Christmas shopping early, and I buried some of Mandy’s Christmas presents in her casket.” Sorrow weighed on her again. “Every year, I remember…I want to forget.”

  “It’s natural. Each year will get better.”

  “That’s what I thought, but this year is worse.” She leaned toward him. “If I tell you something, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “I think the voice is a warning of some kind.”

  His face twisted into a puzzled expression. “Like a premonition.”

  “Sort of, but more than that.”

  “You’re sure it’s Mandy’s voice.”

  “Yes. A mother knows her child’s voice, and she senses when her child is in danger.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Wait.” She held up a finger and hurried into her bedroom to find her Bible. Last night she’d been reading the Christmas story, and when she’d seen the Scripture, the message validated her previous thoughts and bolstered her sense of sanity. It had been a blessing. Clutching the Book, she returned to the living room and plunked herself into the chair.

  “It’s right here,” she said, flipping through the pages. “It’s in the Christmas story in 2 Luke. ‘All who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.’ Mary knew Jesus would face trials. It reassured me. Mothers feel things about their kids. I sense my daughter needs me, Benjamin.”

  “I’m not going to disagree with you. I just don’t want you to worry about what it means. I think it’s the time of year. I truly think the voice will pass.”

  The dinner she’d eaten churned in her stomach, and Joanne could only shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

  “You need to cheer up, Joanne. Let’s do something different. Let’s go…” He paused, thinking, then grinned. “How about shopping? Ladies love to shop.”

  “But men don’t, and anyway, I promised to go Christmas shopping with Nita.”

  His face brightened as if relieved. “Okay, that saves me from a fate worse than…” He didn’t finish but chuckled instead. “Let’s decorate. It’s almost Thanksgiving. It’s never too early to put up a wreath and set out some holiday candles.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he’d already stood.

  “Where do you keep all that stuff?”

  “I haven’t been doing much with that since—”

  “Time you did,” he said. He moved
to face her and held out his hands.

  Joanne couldn’t bear to dampen his enthusiasm. She grasped his hands and let him pull her to her feet. “It’s in the attic.” She pointed upward.

  “One of those holes in the ceiling?” His tone reflected his fading eagerness.

  “This decorating business wasn’t my idea,” she said.

  He grinned. “Where is it?” He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face the archway.

  Joanne led him into her walk-in bedroom closet and pointed to the drop-down ladder. “I’ll go with you so you know what to bring down.”

  She snapped on the light from below while Benjamin climbed the ladder, then gave her a hand. At the top, she stood while he hunched to avoid the low ceiling.

  She beckoned to him, and they moved across the plank floor to a pile of boxes. “It’s all here. Some of it’s labeled, but that’s not always accurate.”

  In the gloomy light, they lifted lids and checked contents, and soon, they were lowering a few of the cartons to the floor below. Once the trap door was closed, Joanne piled three boxes into Benjamin’s arms, then took one for herself, and they carried them into the living room.

  Joanne sat on the floor and Benjamin joined her, and together they opened the boxes and checked the contents. Soon Christmas candles, window wreaths, and garland for the fireplace lined the floor around them.

  “What’s this?” Benjamin asked.

  Joanne looked up and caught her breath. “It’s Floppy.” She reached out and grasped the plush, loopy-eared dog. “It was Mandy’s favorite toy. She slept with him every night.” Tears welled in her eyes as the scene rose before her—Mandy’s blond hair pressed against the pillow and Floppy nestled beside her.

  Benjamin shifted nearer and opened his arms to her. “I’m sorry. I thought doing this might be a way to—”

  He stopped talking, and she rested her head against his strong shoulder, accepting his comforting arms. “It’s not your fault,” she said, once she’d regained control. She eased back and pressed the dog against her chest. “I’d forgotten I’d put him in with the Christmas stuff. We had the ornaments out to decorate, before I got the call that—” She stopped. Benjamin understood; she didn’t need to explain.