On Christmas Eve

by Thomas Kinkade

  Alex was the type of man she was used to dating, who shared her tastes and interests—unlike Nathan, who was unconventional, even eccentric, and always surprised her. But Alex was reliable and consistent. When he said he was going to call her, he called. That counted for a lot.

  It seemed Molly’s prediction was right, though Betty hated to admit it. Nathan was attractive, but he didn’t seem interested in the kind of relationship she wanted, something steady and long-term. Not just pure, inexplicable . . . magic.

  THE GOOD FEELINGS FROM CHURCH AND HELPING AT THE FOOD PANTRY party stayed with Lucy into the evening. After dinner, Lucy decided to start her Christmas baking. She always made three kinds of cookies—chocolate chip, molasses spice, and something her family called “Swedish Butter Bombs.” Lucy did have some Swedish heritage, and the recipe had come down from her grandmother on her mother’s side.

  The first step was creaming the butter with some sugar. Lucy was focused on that task when Zoey wandered into the kitchen. She had long since changed from her polka-dot dress into blue jeans and a sweater, but still wore her hair back in the wide band.

  “What are you doing, Lucy? Cooking something?”

  “I’m making cookies for Christmas. Want to help me?” Lucy asked hopefully. “The boys used to help me back when they were younger, but they’re only interested in eating the finished product now.”

  Zoey laughed. “Why am I not surprised? I’ve never really baked Christmas cookies. Maybe once with my grandma?” Zoey said, trying to remember. “You’ll have to tell me what to do.”

  “You can grab an apron if you like, in that drawer.” Lucy pointed to a drawer near the stove. “I always wear an apron, even if I have on grungy clothes. It sort of centers me. You do need to focus a little more for baking. It’s not like cooking dinner. You need to follow the recipe more carefully or it can come out wrong.”

  Zoey nodded with a serious look. “You’d better just let me stir stuff up then.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s not rocket science. It’s still only cookies. Here, crack these eggs and put the yolks in this little bowl and the whites in this container.”

  Lucy could soon tell Zoey didn’t even know how to separate an egg, and showed her how.

  Once Zoey had gotten the knack, Lucy said, “You’ve never said much about your real family, Zoey. You must be thinking about them a little, now that Christmas is coming.”

  “I do think about my grandmother. She was really nice. My brother and I lived with her after my mother got sick. But she got sick, too, and we went to live with my aunt . . . and then that didn’t work out either. And then my mom ...” Zoey stopped, unable to finish the sentence. “I miss my brother, Kevin,” she said finally.

  Lucy sighed. “It’s too bad you and your brother had to live with different foster families. That must have been very hard.”

  Zoey shrugged. “It was. At first. Then you sort of get used to it. We used to talk on the phone sometimes. I tried to call him a while ago, before I came here, and he never called back. Maybe he didn’t get the message or something. I’m not even sure I know where he is.”

  Zoey had gone into her “tough kid—I don’t really care” mode, but Lucy knew by now that that was when the girl cared the most and felt the worst about her life. Lucy’s heart went out to her. Her own boys fought like tigers at times, but she couldn’t imagine them being split up and unable to see each other or even stay in touch by phone.

  “Hey, I have an idea. I could find out from Rita where Kevin is living and take you to see him soon. Would you like that?”

  Zoey had been beating the egg yolks and now looked up. “Could you do that? I didn’t even know that was allowed.”

  Her answer gave Lucy’s heart another pang. “I can’t see why not. If that’s the rule, then it’s really dumb. We’ll have to figure out some way around it,” Lucy insisted. “I’ll talk to Rita and find out for you.”

  “That would be great. I’d love to just hang with him awhile.” Zoey handed Lucy the egg yolks, and Lucy showed her how to measure the tablespoon of vanilla extract and stir it up again.

  “What kind of cookies are we making?” Zoey asked.

  “Swedish Butter Bombs,” Lucy announced with a small smile. “A family tradition.”

  “Butter Bombs? Cool.”

  “The real name is too hard to pronounce in Swedish, so that’s what we call them. Okay, this is sort of the hard part, double-sifting the flour,” Lucy explained. “You want to get it real fluffy, so the cookies aren’t dense.”

  She showed Zoey how to sift the flour on a baking sheet and put it carefully into the measuring cup with a spatula. “Voilà! Then we mix that into the butter and sugar, a little at a time—”

  Zoey blinked. “I thought you said this wasn’t hard? It seems hard to me.”

  “Don’t worry. It will be worth it. We’ll do macaroons next. That’s a total no-brainer, only two ingredients.”

  “More my speed,” Zoey said, handing Lucy the measuring cup again.

  “So . . . since we’re talking about foster families, you never really told me why you ran away, Zoey. Were you just unhappy there?”

  Zoey put a dirty bowl in the sink. “It wasn’t the family,” she said finally. “They weren’t really nice, like you, but they weren’t horrible. The thing was, I had this boyfriend. But I didn’t like him anymore. I tried to break up and he wouldn’t let me. He said some things that . . . that scared me.”

  Lucy put aside the cookie batter and turned to face her. “You were afraid he was going to hurt you, you mean?”

  Zoey nodded bleakly.

  “Did he ever hurt you while you were dating?”

  Zoey sighed and looked away. “Well, we would argue a lot and he had a really bad temper. But he didn’t hurt me. Not really.”

  Lucy wasn’t sure she was telling the entire truth. What did “not really” mean? But she didn’t want to bother now getting into the fine points. This was serious, any way you looked at it.

  “Did you tell your foster parents about him?”

  “There were a lot of kids living in that house—their own kids and three of us extra kids. They got sort of excited and angry if you got in trouble at school or had a problem. Maybe I should have told Rita. I don’t know . . . I was afraid I’d just get put back in the system,” Zoey admitted. “So I ran away. After I had a fight with him about breaking up. I figured it was better to be on my own and decide things for myself than go with some other family that might be even worse.”

  “What happened to this boy? Are you still in touch with him?”

  “I don’t want to be. But he keeps calling my cell phone. For a while, it was out of service. Then I turned it back on last week, with my waitressing money, and I found all his creepy messages. He said he’s going to find me. He’s not giving up.”

  Lucy got a chill. “That’s against the law, threatening someone like that. Or it should be,” she added quickly. She really didn’t know what the laws were in these cases. But she was going to find out. First thing tomorrow.

  “We’ll get you a new phone number right away,” she promised. “That shouldn’t be too hard. But you need to tell us if you hear from him again, especially if he says he’s found out where you are. Does anybody know you ended up in Cape Light—any of your other friends?”

  “Just one of my girlfriends, Caitlin. She’s my best friend. I talk to her and text like, all the time. But she’d never tell him,” Zoey added quickly.

  Lucy wasn’t so sure about that. News had a way of leaking out when you were that age.

  The important thing now was to keep Zoey safe. Until somebody could catch up with this boy and straighten him out. She would have to leave that to Rita.

  “Can you tell me this boy’s name, Zoey? It’s important.”

  Zoey swallowed hard and looked away. “What’s the difference? I don’t think he’ll really bother me. He just likes to look tough and say stuff.”

  Like those kids in t
he mall, Lucy suddenly realized. That’s the way they were acting, talking loud and tough. Lucy realized now that Zoey must have recognized one or two of them and didn’t want them to see her.

  “I wish you would tell me,” Lucy said quietly. “It will be easier to help you if we knew his name. I know you’re afraid, but we can protect you. You don’t have to worry.”

  “I just can’t, okay?” Zoey spun away, nearly shouting at her. “It doesn’t matter. I think he’s seeing someone else now. Just stop asking me all these questions, okay? I shouldn’t have told you anything. What a jerk I am.”

  She pulled off her apron and ran out of the kitchen. Lucy heard her quick steps on the stairs, the first flight and then the second, up to her room.

  Lucy wished she could tell Zoey that she could hide out here forever, that they would always take care of her. But Lucy knew she wasn’t free to make those promises. And that was not a good feeling.

  Once the cookies were in the oven, Lucy dialed Rita Schuman’s number. It was nearly ten o’clock, but Lucy thought the situation was important enough to call the social worker at home.

  “I’m sorry to bother you so late,” Lucy began. “But there’s something I think you should know about.”

  Lucy quickly related the talk she’d had with Zoey. “I’m afraid this boy might find out that Zoey is here in Cape Light with us. At least one of her friends back in Gloucester knows, and even though Zoey thinks that girl won’t tell anyone . . . well, you know how kids are.”

  “Yes, I do. This is serious. I’m glad that you called me. Did she tell you the boy’s name? What school he goes to? Anything like that?”

  “I asked her a few times, but she won’t say. She’s afraid. You know how these things work.”

  Lucy heard Rita sigh with concern. “I’ll make some inquiries at her old school and try to find out who this kid is. We’ll have to let the police know. We might need her cell phone for evidence, if she didn’t erase the calls. Let me look into it tomorrow, and I’ll call you.”

  “Yes, please. Let me know what happens,” Lucy said quickly. This was turning into a much bigger situation than she had expected. The police were getting involved now. But it had to be done. Zoey had to be protected. Lucy would never forgive herself if something happened to her, and she had just stood by and had made light of it.

  “Um, one more thing,” Lucy added quickly. “I was wondering about the steps we would take to apply for permanent custody. I mean, since you haven’t found a foster family yet, could we still apply?”

  “We haven’t found a family. You and your husband could apply if you want to. There would be an interview, an application, and references. There’s not much more involved than you’ve already been through to be temporary guardians,” she added. “But what about your husband, Lucy? I got the sense that he was not in favor of that level of commitment. Has he changed his mind?”

  Lucy didn’t answer right away. She bit down on her lip a second. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I have to talk to him about it again. Zoey has been here for a month now. The boys really like her. She feels like part of the family.”

  “She seems to be having a good experience with your family,” Rita said. “I think you’ve done very well with her, and I would recommend you if you did apply.”

  Lucy felt good hearing that. Rita’s opinion meant a lot her.

  “Something else came up tonight. Before I heard about the boyfriend,” Lucy explained. “Zoey would really love to visit her brother, Kevin. I would be happy to take her to him, wherever he is now. Could we figure that out for her? I was hoping they could get together soon, for Christmas. He’s the only real family she has left, and it’s a shame they’ve been separated.”

  “I think it would be good for them to visit, Lucy. I should have thought of that myself. I’ll look into that tomorrow, too, and try to make some arrangements. Give me a few days on that one. I’ll get back to you.”

  Lucy hung up the phone just as the oven buzzer rang for the cookies. She pulled out the first pan of Butter Bombs. They were golden brown and looked scrumptious, though they still needed to be rolled in confectioners’ sugar. She would put on the final touch, then call the kids down for a taste test.

  Maybe Zoey would have cooled off by then, too. She hoped so. For a while there, they’d had such a nice time baking together. Lucy had caught a glimpse of how it could be if Zoey were to live with them permanently.

  The high hurdle was Charlie. Wasn’t he always?

  Charlie’s attitude had softened, though not nearly enough. Lucy would start to think he was warming up to the girl, then he would suddenly put down his paper and say, “When is she going to leave anyway? Isn’t it time?”

  Could she persuade Charlie to make the girl part of their family? Was it worth the argument? Lucy wasn’t sure that even if she won, it would be the right way to go forward with this decision. A person needed to open his heart to a child in order to parent that child.

  She wouldn’t want to take Zoey in if Charlie was going to resent her. It wouldn’t be fair to Zoey. If Charlie was going to agree, it couldn’t be to placate his wife. It had to come from him, for his own reasons. And right now, Lucy couldn’t see what those could be.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “—SO ALL I HAVE LEFT TO PICK UP IS THE IPOD. I SHOULD HAVE JUST grabbed one when I was at Computer Barn last week, but they were out of blue. Lauren has to have a blue one. And then I have to find a briefcase for Matt. I bought one online, but the leather looked a lot nicer in the picture. . . .” Molly was reviewing her Christmas shopping list out loud. Betty didn’t mind. She wasn’t listening that closely, and Molly didn’t seem to notice.

  They were in the shop, making appetizers for the last wave of holiday parties. Betty was preparing big batches of hummus in the food processor, blending the chopped chickpeas with lemon, olive oil, tahini, and spices.

  “Betty . . . you don’t want to turn that into chickpea soup, right?” Molly’s voice broke through her wandering thoughts. Betty released the button and stopped the machine. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry,” she said, peering into the processor.

  “Is something the matter? You don’t seem yourself today.” Molly gazed at her with concern. “Are you still worried about Brian’s visit?”

  “It’s not that. I’m excited about seeing him. He and Tina are coming into Logan tonight. He’ll be with his future in-laws until Christmas Day. But he’s going to call me, just to let me know he’s gotten in all right.”

  “It’s all good,” Molly said. “You’re going to have a great time with him.”

  “I think so,” Betty agreed. She opened another can of chickpeas and drained the liquid into the sink. The truth was, talking to Nathan had helped put the situation into perspective. He had reminded her that Brian was an adult now and they could talk together, like adults, about their past. Betty had really appreciated that advice. She wanted to thank him again for helping her—if she ever heard from him again.

  “I guess I’m just tired,” she told Molly. “We’ve been working like mad-women, and then there was the fund-raising for the pantry.”

  “I bet you’re glad that’s over with.” Molly shook her head. She was making spinach pies, handling the delicate phyllo dough.

  “Yeah, I am. It’s a relief,” Betty said quietly.

  It was a relief to be done with the party preparations and all the fund-raising. But no relief at all to be suddenly cut off from Nathan. It was Wednesday, three days since she had last seen him, but it seemed much longer, especially after being in touch with him so much while they worked on the party. The steady stream of e-mails and phone calls had suddenly dried up. It was a bit of a shock, Betty realized.

  “Well, we only have three more events to do and the food deliveries on Christmas Eve,” Molly reminded her. “Then our slate is clear. That will be a relief for me,” she added. “Except for worrying about my own Christmas Eve party.”

  “You always do a beautiful j
ob, Molly. You could do that one in your sleep.”

  “I’m so tired this year, I may have to.” She smoothed a layer of spinach filling over the dough and started to cover it with another layer of phyllo.

  “I’ll cover the food deliveries that day, don’t worry. I think you should just stay home all day and take care of your own party.”

  “Would you do that for me, Betty? That would be great,” Molly said. “That would really take a load off my mind.”

  “It’s nothing. Don’t even mention it. I know I spent a lot of time the last two weeks working on that pantry party, and you never gave me any grief. So, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. But I did give you some grief,” Molly admitted with a mischievous grin. “You’re letting me off too easy. I hope they appreciated all the effort you put in. Especially Santa. Did he thank you?”

  Betty nodded quickly. “Yes, he thanked me several times. Everyone did.”

  “And—?”

  “And what?” Betty asked innocently, though she knew what Molly was getting at.

  “Did he ask you out? Are you going to see him again?”

  “Um . . . no. Nothing like that. He has a lot of work right now. Some big deadline he has to catch up on.” Betty tried to sound vague and offhand, though inside her heart ached. “I don’t think I’ll see Nathan for a while. I mean, we’re just friends.”

  Molly seemed satisfied. “So you’ve told me. But I was getting a different impression there for a while. And how’s it going with Alex? Did he ask you out for New Year’s Eve yet?”

  Betty looked up at her. “Yes, he did. It’s been hard to get together, with both our schedules being so crazy. We had a date last week, but he had to run over to the hospital for an emergency,” Betty explained. “But I did see him Sunday night, and he mentioned New Year’s Eve. Nothing specific, just that he’d like to spend it with me.”

  “That’s an excellent sign,” Molly said encouragingly.

  Betty had to agree that it was. Too bad she didn’t like Alex more. She would have definitely been happy at the progress.