Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

  “Now,” he said breathlessly. “Let’s celebrate now.”

  I touched my lips to his. “Yes sir, Sergeant Mordecai. But first turn off the stove.”

  He did, groping blindly.

  “And the oven.”

  He found that switch too. I got down on my knees.

  “I’m proud of you, Max. You earned this.”

  “Earned this?”

  “Don’t be silly. This is a gift.”

  “You give nice gifts,” he whispered.

  I grinned. “That’s what she said.”

  21

  2012

  May

  MAX SKIMMED his hand slowly through my hair, his eyes shining in the dim bedroom light. “Guess what?”

  “What?” I murmured, my own eyes half-closed. I snuggled further beneath the blankets, the gentle strokes lulling me to sleep.

  “Guess.”

  My eyes closed all the way. “I just did.”

  He shifted closer, insistent. “You know what I mean. Guess.”

  I opened my eyes. Max was looking down at me expectantly. I blinked up at him. “Can you give me a hint?”

  “It’s good news,” he said. “It’s something we’ve been thinking about for a while.” When that didn’t help me he added, “It has to do with money.”

  “Did you win the lottery?”

  “No, Shirley. Something we’ve been saving for.”

  “Are we going on a trip?”

  He smiled mysteriously. “Kind of. Try again.”

  “Are you finally getting a new car?”

  His smile grew. “Think bigger.”

  “You want an SUV?”

  “No, Shirley, I mean it’s bigger than a vehicle.”

  The anticipation in Max’s eyes was overwhelming, almost unbearable in the face of my ignorance. I was forgetting something, something really important to him. Then it hit me like a physical blow and I gasped.

  “A house. We’ve been saving for a house.”

  “Yes!” he cried, laughing. “And we’ve got it, Shirley, we’ve got enough to get a house!”

  I laid frozen, breathless, trying to remember the last time I’d checked our savings account. “I didn’t… I didn’t realize…”

  Max’s smile turned fond, his thumb brushing over my gaping mouth. “We’ve been setting money aside for a while, and the last six months with my raise really helped, so now… now we’re ready. Shirley, we’re ready.”

  He laid down next to me, over me, taking my face in his hands. His eyes were warm, so full of love, and when he kissed me I could feel it in my bones, drawing me in like the pull of the tide.

  His lips trailed down my throat. “Can you believe it?” he murmured. “After all this time, all these years, and finally…”

  He slipped my nightshirt from my shoulders, his kisses chasing the receding fabric. I inhaled sharply. “Max…”

  He kissed me harder. His skin was on fire, turning me hot, burning me up. I cowered back against the pillows. “Max, stop. Stop.”

  He did, immediately, pulling away. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  I tugged my shirt up, aching at the hurt that flashed across Max’s face. I hugged my arms to my chest. “I’m not sure this is the right time.”

  He sat up, frowning in confusion. “Of course this is the right time. This is what we’ve been waiting for. First the house, then the—”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” I interrupted. “We don’t have a house yet. We should wait until we’ve got a house.”

  Max smiled patiently. “Sweetheart, it takes a lot longer to have a baby than to find a house. We’ll be settled in long before—”

  “I just think it would be too much. We’re both working full time on top of looking for a place, and I just think that—that if I was pregnant…”

  He laid his palm against my cheek, nothing but truth in his eyes. “You won’t have to worry about a thing, Shirley. The house will be my job.”

  My jaw worked soundlessly as I fumbled for something to say. Max squeezed my hand in reassurance. “Honest, sweetheart, it won’t be any trouble. I’ve been looking online, and I’ve got a few listings in mind. Four bedrooms, three baths, a finished basement for the kids…”

  “But we don’t—”

  “They’ve all got big backyards, and one even has a playhouse. They’re fenced too, which would be good if we want a dog. Kids love dogs.”

  “Max, you’re allergic to—”

  “You’ll be so excited when you see the neighborhoods, Shirley. Real family communities, with lots of parks and great schools to choose from. Can you picture it? Playing at the park?”

  “Max—”

  “It’ll be everything we ever wanted, and I promise, you won’t have to lift a finger. You and the baby—”

  “Christ, Max, I'm not having a baby!”

  He recoiled as if I’d slapped him. I shut my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see, throwing my arm across my face for good measure.

  When his voice finally came it sounded faint and far away. “I just meant…”

  “I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.” God, I was an asshole.

  “I thought you’d be happy. I thought this was what you wanted.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Shirley? Isn’t this what you want?” His hand pulled at mine. “Shirley?”

  I let him tug my arm away. His face was inches from mine, distorted with fear. I couldn’t say it. I didn’t have to.

  He whispered, “Oh.”

  He withdrew his hand, curling his fingers to his chest. I felt like I would be sick.

  “Max…”

  “I thought… I thought…”

  He fled to the bathroom, locking the door behind him and turning the faucet on full. I took a second to steel myself before following.

  “Max, it’s not that I don’t want… it’s just not the right… I’m just not ready yet.” I waited. “Please, Max, open the door.”

  “It’s fine,” came the choked reply. “Just… just go back to bed.”

  “Max, please—”

  “Just go back to bed.”

  I ran to the kitchen instead and threw up in the sink. My knees knocked against the cabinets and I slumped to the floor, covering my ears against the muffled sobs coming from the bathroom. I should have said something else, anything else. Maybe I should have just said yes.

  I went back to bed. When Max finally returned he slipped beneath the blankets without a word, facing away from me. My hand hovered above his shoulder until his quiet crying faded into slumber.

  I laid awake the rest of the night. I’d seen it in his face. Maybe I’d known it all along. No matter how much I loved him, no matter what else I would do for him, if I wouldn’t give him kids then I would never be enough.

  22

  WHEN I woke up in the morning Max was gone. It wasn’t a surprise. I’d been waking up alone for almost three weeks.

  I went to the kitchen. His breakfast dishes were washed and dried, but he’d left a mug out for me, for my coffee. One scoop of sugar already in the bottom. I filled the mug carefully, my hands shaking hard, and sat down to my breakfast alone.

  At noon his office was empty, just like it had been all week. I left him the sandwich I’d picked up from his favorite deli and spent my lunch break in the gym.

  I took my time with dinner, basting, chopping, spicing, layering it all together in the good casserole dish. I tried to guess how long he’d be, so that it would still be warm when he came home. I stood at the window. I stared at the door. I started the oven, then turned it down and turned it down and turned it down, and then I turned it off.

  I crawled into bed and cried.

  APPOINTMENTS. HE said he had appointments, or extra work, or somewhere to be. What he meant was he couldn’t be around me anymore.

  I couldn’t blame him. He’d waited so long, hopeful, patient, so excited to start a family, and I’d ripped it all away. I only saw him for a few minutes in the ev
ening if at all, but the pain in his eyes was unmistakable. I was breaking his heart.

  I told myself he’d be all right, that he’d get over it. That I really would be ready later. I knew I wouldn’t be. I knew eventually it would be too hard for him. I knew it was only a matter of time before he stopped coming home at all.

  I KEPT my eyes closed as the bedroom door creaked open. He was quiet, always quiet, but I knew every sound. The metallic scrape of his belt buckle. The soft thump of his shirt hitting the floor. I heard him leave again, heard the water running in the bathroom sink. I didn’t hear him come back in.

  There was a touch on my face, so fleeting I may have imagined it. The mattress shifted as he lay down, staying a safe distance away from me. I pictured him, flat on his back, one arm across his stomach. I wanted to roll over and put his arm around me instead, but I didn’t. I waited for his breathing to even out in sleep so I could look at him, touch him. My hand ghosted through his hair and traced down his stubbled jaw. I wished I could kiss him. Instead I turned my back and cried again.

  In the morning he was gone. He’d left me sugar in a coffee mug.

  WE HADN’T spoken for five days when I got the call from Dixon.

  “This is a big one,” he said, “and we’re going to need everyone in on it. I’ll see you in the parade room in twenty.”

  By the time I arrived the room was packed with officers, everyone from organized crime to homicide to crimes against children. Sitting on the far side of the room was Max. He glanced up as I came in, averting his eyes just as fast. I took a seat near the back as Shapiro called for order.

  “I’d like to thank you all for coming,” she said. “We’ve got an emergency situation and need as much manpower as we can get.”

  She hit a few keys on the laptop in front of her, and an image of a young girl with sun-bleached hair and bright blue eyes was projected on the screen.

  “This is Kimberly Hart. Age six. Currently enrolled in the first grade at Martin Luther King Elementary.”

  I stole a glance at Max. His eyes were glued to the screen, his mouth pursed in that way that meant he was thinking about fatherhood. Guilt slithered in my stomach and I looked away.

  Shapiro struck another key. The photo was replaced with shots of a garage gutted by flames.

  “Four days ago, a home workshop caught fire and a man was killed. That man was Ray Hart, Kimberly’s father. Kimberly was found unharmed in the home’s basement and was admitted to the Youth Center’s temporary care as we attempted to contact a family member. She was remanded into her uncle’s custody yesterday, which is impossible because she doesn’t have an uncle. I’ll turn it over now to Sergeant Mordecai, who will fill you in on the details.”

  I stared in surprise as Max rose and moved to the computer. His cleared his throat uncomfortably and kept his eyes away from me.

  “I know Kimmie Hart,” he began, “and I was deeply saddened to hear of the death of her father. I went down to the Youth Center to visit her yesterday and was told that she had been retrieved by a family member. I knew she had no extended family, and as her mother is currently serving a prison sentence in California, I became suspicious as to who picked her up. I approached Lieutenant Patel of the Child Task Force with my concerns, and we—” He took a deep breath. “We have reason to believe Kimmie has been kidnapped and that her safety may be at risk.”

  Max brought up a grainy surveillance image from the Center. The photo showed a balding, middle-aged man, well-dressed and slightly paunchy, standing with his hand on Kimmie’s shoulder.

  “The man Kimmie left with is described as a white male, early 40’s, approximately 5 foot 9 inches and 200 pounds. He presented a driver’s license identifying himself as Allen Hart, the same Allen Hart listed as an emergency contact in the family home. A preliminary investigation revealed no one in residence at the address he provided, and his phone is no longer in service. We have no corroborating driver’s license in our system, suggesting it was forged.

  “Though the garage fire investigation is ongoing, we believe it is the result of arson. We believe the kidnapper planted his contact information in the house and killed Ray Hart to get to Kimmie.”

  Lieutenant Patel joined Max at the front of the room. “Sergeant Mordecai and the Explosives and Arson Team will be handling the investigation at the house. Our priority is finding Kimmie and ensuring her safety. We will be running surveillance on the city’s airport, bus terminals and train stations, and reviewing their security footage. The rest of you will interview every employee at the Youth Center and Kimmie’s school. Kimmie’s out there. Let’s find her, and bring her home.”

  The room emptied quickly as officers received their assignments. I stayed in my seat, watching Max at the front of the room. I didn’t realize Paddy was talking to me until he shook me by the shoulder.

  “You listening? I said we’ve got the interview with the lady who signed Kimmie out.”

  I nodded, not daring to take my eyes off Max. “Okay. Meet you at the car.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting.”

  He left, and then it was just me and Max.

  Max was typing on the laptop, his keystrokes louder than my footsteps as I went to him, stood right in front of him. He didn’t look up.

  “Max,” I said quietly. He flinched as if I’d screamed. I tried again, softer. “Max.”

  He pulled a flash drive from the computer and shoved it in his pocket. “I… I have to go…”

  “Max…”

  He ducked his head, inching toward the door. “Shirley, I have to go—”

  “Don’t go,” I whispered. “Please don’t go.”

  He hesitated. My eyes burned with tears, but I couldn’t wipe them away. If I moved I’d touch him. I’d lock my arms around him and press my face against his neck and beg him to hold me, and he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. It was asking too much. But if he’d just talk to me it would be enough.

  If only I knew what to say.

  Slowly he turned, his eyes finding mine. He was so hurt, and I knew I was making it worse. But I had to try.

  I took a small step toward him. “I’m sorry about Kimmie. I know you must really care for her.”

  He swallowed, dipping his chin into a nod. He didn’t retreat. It was as much encouragement as I could ask for.

  I edged forward again. “We’ll find her,” I promised. “We’ll bring her back.”

  He nodded again, and the next words just tumbled out.

  “I love you.”

  Max’s eyes squeezed shut, his shoulders hitching soundlessly. He turned and ran from the room.

  “I JUST don’t understand,” Mrs. Weatherbee moaned, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. “He had his paperwork in order. He had his ID. He even brought her a teddy, and she seemed to like him… oh, that poor little girl. Twenty years I’ve been doing this, and now I’ve lost a child.”

  “We’re doing everything we can to get her back,” Paddy said. “Can you tell us about the vehicle he was driving? The color, or maybe the model?”

  She shook her head miserably. “I didn’t look.”

  “What about the camera in the parking lot?” I asked. “Have you got the surveillance from that?”

  “It’s been down for weeks. We’ve been understaffed lately, and there’s been a lot of turnover from our support departments. It’s one of those things that just slipped through the cracks, and I never dreamed…”

  I slid the surveillance photo across the reception desk. “Are you sure you’ve never seen this man before? He never worked in the building? Never spent time with any of the kids?”

  Mrs. Weatherbee frowned, her soft wrinkles deepening. “You think… oh my Lord. You think he’s one of my people.”

  “It’s likely he’s been here before,” Paddy said. “We know he’s familiar with the system since he knew how to get Kimmie out.”

  She gave a helpless shrug. “I can’t be certain. I don’t think I’ve seen him before, but I couldn’t swear to it
. I see a lot of people in a day.”

  “We’ll need your employee records,” I said. “Everything on everyone from the past twelve months, and we’d appreciate if you could flag anyone who was let go recently.”

  “Anything I can do,” she murmured, bustling behind the computer. “Anything I can do.”

  “YOU LOOK like hell,” Paddy told me as we got back in the car. “You shouldn’t be talking to witnesses when you’ve been bawling your eyes out.”

  “I wasn’t crying,” I muttered. “It’s allergies.”

  “It’s bullshit is what it is. You’re not allergic to anything, except maybe a straight answer.” Paddy stuck the keys in the ignition and let them hang there. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?”

  I buckled my seatbelt and kicked my feet up on the dash.

  “Something you need to talk to Tish about?”

  “I’m not allowed to cry without telling my therapist about it?”

  “Just checking,” he said coolly.

  “Can we go now?”

  Paddy started the car. “You worried about the girl? Do you know her too?”

  “No,” I said bitterly. “No, I don’t know the girl.”

  “Then what’s your problem, huh? You’ve been moody for weeks. If it’s an anxiety thing—”

  “It’s not.”

  “Well, whatever it is, you better do something about it. You’re starting to piss me off.”

  We pulled out of the parking lot and turned south toward downtown. Paddy tapped his thumb on the steering wheel. “Is it your sister? I read about that guy in the papers.”

  “They split up,” I said. “She’s already moved on to the next one.”

  “What about your dad? They fix his meds?”

  “Yeah, he’s doing better. Thanks for asking.”

  Paddy worked his jaw side to side, then shot me a sudden look. “Don’t tell me you’ve got trouble in paradise.” He waited. “Well?”