On Christmas Eve

by Thomas Kinkade

  “You’re going, right?” Molly pinned her with a look.

  Betty met her gaze and looked away. “I think so. But I’m not sure yet what’s going on with Brian. How long he’ll be staying and when I’ll meet his fiancée. Alex said that was fine. I just need to let him know when I figure it out.”

  “That’s sweet. I guess he doesn’t want to ask anyone else if you won’t go,” Molly pointed out. Betty hadn’t thought of that, but maybe it was true.

  “I’ll figure it out. I like Alex. He’s a great guy. But right now I’m really thinking of Brian. He’s the only man I’m focused on.”

  “As it should be,” Molly agreed. She turned back to the spinach pie and brushed melted butter on the top crust, the finishing touch before slipping the trays into the hot oven.

  Betty turned on the food processor again, pulsing more carefully this time so the beans wouldn’t turn to mush.

  She wished she could talk openly to Molly about Nathan. But she already knew her friend’s opinion of him and doubted Molly could offer an objective take on why he suddenly seemed to be running for the hills. Besides, Molly was clearly lobbying for Alex and would only remind Betty that she knew from the start Nathan was not the reliable, consistent type.

  Betty realized now that maybe she should have seen this coming. Men scared themselves silly when they started to have feelings. That was par for the course. She had thought about calling Nathan several times over the past few days, but knew that would be too pushy. Too . . . needy. He had talked about work demands, but maybe he was just trying to tell her that he needed some time alone. Some space. What was wrong with that? He didn’t owe her any explanations.

  Things will sort themselves, one way or the other, Betty told herself. She liked Nathan but if nothing more happened between them, she would survive. She had definitely been through this with men before.

  Her distraction over Nathan seemed to have robbed her of her holiday spirit the last few days. Betty was annoyed about that, too. She didn’t want to be in some sort of romantic funk when her son arrived. That was just . . . unacceptable.

  She decided to focus on the one truly bright spot of her holidays, seeing Brian. She would put aside distracting thoughts of both Nathan and Alex. What she had told Molly was true. There was only one man she wanted to focus her attention on now—her dear boy.

  LUCY FELT LUCKY TO FIND A PARKING SPOT RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE CLAM Box. It was about six o’clock, but most of the shops were still open for last-minute Christmas shopping, and the village was bustling, as if it were a Saturday afternoon. Lucy had worked at the hospital until five and had stopped at the diner to pick up Zoey and take her home. Charlie usually brought her home around this time or a little earlier, but he needed to stay late and close up.

  Lucy was so tired, she didn’t feel like cooking. She decided to bring something home from the Clam Box tonight. Even though the kids rolled their eyes when they saw the familiar takeout tins, it was convenient for a working mom when her husband owned a diner.

  When she got inside she was glad to see that the diner was almost empty. Zoey was waiting on a table with a father and two children, but they were almost finished. The check was already on the table.

  “Hi, Zoey, ready to go?” Lucy asked.

  “Almost. I have to wait for Trudy to get back from her break. She just went down the street to pick up a gift at the toy store.”

  “No problem. I need to bring some food home for dinner. That will take a few minutes anyway. I’ll put the order in with Charlie. What should I get for you—or are you sick of looking at this food by now?”

  Zoey rolled her eyes. “I’ll just have a salad. With a side of fries.”

  Lucy blinked. “That’s a joke, right?”

  Zoey’s expression was perfectly serious. “I’ve decided to be a vegetarian. I read about it in a magazine.”

  “Right.” Lucy shook her head and picked up an order pad from the counter. Maybe she could get Zoey to drink a glass of milk or eat a hard-boiled egg with that meal, she thought as she marked down their choices.

  Lucy took the slip back to the kitchen and looked around for Charlie. He stood at the big stainless steel stove, looking a lot like a juggling act as he cooked two sizzling hamburgers on the grill side and fixed an order of meat loaf and a side of mashed potatoes. Someone else must have called in for takeout.

  “Hi, Charlie. How’s it going?” She gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek. He smiled for a second but didn’t kiss her back.

  “Okay, I guess. The mixer broke down on me, right in the potatoes. I hope it’s just a part, and the motor didn’t burn out.”

  A new motor would be a big bill; even Lucy knew that. “Yes, let’s hope. Why do these things always happen right around the holidays?” she said with a sigh. “That reminds me, I need an order of your famous meat loaf for Jamie, and C.J. wants two BLTs.” Lucy winced at her older son’s order. She should have her nursing license revoked. But it was the holidays. Everyone ate badly. She would get them back on track next week, she promised herself.

  Charlie glanced at her. “I guess those boys like their old man’s cooking.”

  “I guess so,” Lucy agreed. She was just about to ask for her own dinner, and Zoey’s salad and fries, when the sound of crashing glass and two voices arguing in the dining room fractured the air.

  It sounded like Zoey was having a fight with a customer.

  Lucy turned and raced through the kitchen’s swinging doors. Charlie was right behind her.

  Lucy reached the dining room and stopped dead in her tracks. A tough-looking boy—tall with a dark buzz-cut and a hooded sweatshirt under a black leather jacket—stood shouting and cursing at Zoey. His face was red with anger and a blue tattoo on his cheek looked like a hideous scar. He grabbed Zoey’s arm, trying to drag her out of the diner. When she fought back, he grabbed her ponytail.

  Zoey was screaming and struggling. “Let go of me! I hate you! Let me go!”

  She used her free hand to throw anything she could grab at him—dishes, silverware, a sugar container, a metal creamer full of milk.

  “Charlie, help her. Please, do something!” Lucy screamed, and ran toward the fighting couple. But Charlie got there first. He ran up behind the boy, twisted his arm behind his back, and easily pulled him away. “You stinking piece of trash, let go of her!” He shoved the boy toward the door and pushed him outside. “Get out of here while you can still walk. If I ever see your face again, you’ll be arrested so fast your stupid fat head will spin. And don’t you ever go near that girl again, got it?”

  The boy stared at him for a long moment, rubbing the arm Charlie had twisted. “Chill, old man. I get your point.” Then he gave Zoey one last look. “You’re not getting away so easy. I’ll be back, Zoey. Count on it.”

  Charlie slammed the door in his face. Then he went straight to the phone by the cash register. “Is she okay? Give her some ice or something,” he shouted at Lucy.

  Zoey sat crumpled in a chair, her head pressed against her arms as she sobbed. Lucy rubbed her back to soothe her, but Zoey wouldn’t look up.

  Lucy’s own heart was still racing. What a monster that boy was. They were lucky he was so brazen and walked right in here. What if he had cornered Zoey alone somewhere? Lucy didn’t even want to think about it.

  “It’s okay, honey. It’s all over. He went away. Charlie is calling the police.”

  “No! No police!” Zoey suddenly looked up with a desperate expression. “If the police pick him up, he’ll get even madder at me. He found me. He said he would. I can’t believe this. I can’t stay here anymore. He’ll come back. ...”

  Lucy heard Charlie talking to Tucker on the phone. “Yeah, some punk. Must have been about sixteen, seventeen years old. Leather jacket, about my height, dark hair. He had a big blue tattoo on his face. Hard to miss that. I just kicked him out. No, I didn’t see any car. . . . Wait, I’ll ask her. . . .”

  Charlie turned to them. “Who is that guy an
yway? Some boyfriend or something?”

  “For about five minutes,” Zoey said, her voice bitter. “Now he’s going to ruin my entire life. His name is Kurt Schmitt.”

  Charlie gave Tucker the information. “All right. You can talk to her. Come on over. I’ve got to close up. This place is a mess.”

  Charlie hung up and walked over to Lucy and Zoey. “Tucker called the patrol cars around town with the description. Says they’ll pick the punk up if they find him in town. He needs to make a report. He’s coming over to talk to Zoey.”

  His gaze fell on Zoey, and she looked down at her lap. She seemed ashamed of what had happened.

  Lucy put her arm protectively around Zoey’s shoulder. “I think we need to go home now. Tucker can come over or call us.” She looked down at Zoey and urged her to get up. “Come on, honey, let’s go.”

  The girl seemed worn out and let Lucy lead her through the broken dishes to the door.

  “Just like always, leave me with the mess,” Charlie grumbled, his hands on his hips. “Now we’ve got to worry about some thug kid taking revenge on my place. I bet he comes back with some of his hoodlum friends and vandalizes me.”

  Just like Charlie, more worried about the diner than people, was Lucy’s first thought. But then she realized: Charlie was as shaken up as she was. For all his faults, Charlie would never let anyone hurt a child. He had gone after Kurt, like a lion protecting its young. And now, he was retreating into his usual cranky behavior in an effort to get things back to normal.

  “Trudy will be back soon and she’ll help you clean up,” Lucy said. “And Tucker will keep an eye on the place.”

  “Maybe so. But it’s just one more thing to worry about,” Charlie said as she and Zoey reached the door. “See what I mean, Lucy?” He didn’t say more, but Lucy knew what he meant: That he had predicted that Zoey would bring trouble into their life.

  “Oh, hush,” Lucy said. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  Lucy didn’t want to wait for the boys’ food either. She decided to stop at a drive-thru, and bustled Zoey out of the diner and into her car.

  She glanced at Zoey as they pulled away and headed down Main Street. Zoey seemed so sad, back to square one. Lucy knew Zoey had understood Charlie’s parting words. She wasn’t dumb. Lucy felt bad that she’d had to hear that, on top of everything.

  “I’m sorry he came around and busted up the dishes and everything,” Zoey said. “He’s such a jerk. Tell Charlie I’ll pay for that stuff. Out of my check this week.”

  “It’s not your fault, Zoey. You don’t have to pay for a thing.”

  Zoey stared out the window. “He’s going to come back. I know the way he is,” she said quietly. “I know you like your friend Tucker, the cop. But Kurt is smart, smarter than Tucker.”

  Lucy slowed the car and pulled over. She turned to Zoey and gave the girl her full attention. “Okay, he found you. But we were there to keep you safe, Zoey. You need to remember that,” Lucy stressed. “I hate to think about what might have happened if you were on your own. So don’t get any ideas now about running away. There are ways to deal with people like Kurt, ways that will keep him away from you forever. But you have to trust me to help you. You can’t run away again. That would be the worst thing to do. I know that you must be thinking about that now, but you can’t do it. Do you promise to stay and let me help you?”

  Zoey stared at her in surprise, and Lucy could see that she had struck a nerve, maybe even guessed the girl’s thoughts.

  “Okay,” Zoey said at last. “I’ll stick around. Maybe he’ll give up.” She shrugged and traced some fog on the window with her fingertip. “Maybe Charlie scared him. I thought I’d seen Charlie mad, but that was something else. That was like pit-bull territory.”

  “Yeah, it was,” Lucy agreed. She started the car again and pulled onto the road. If there had ever been an upside to Charlie’s anger, this had to be it. She hoped Zoey had told her the truth and would keep her word. If she ran away again, no telling what would happen to her.

  THE NEXT MORNING LUCY SET OFF TO MEET RITA SCHUMAN. THE NIGHT before, when Lucy called and told her about the incident in the diner, Rita suggested that they get together the next day to talk about Zoey’s situation and her future.

  Meeting at the Clam Box was out of the question. Lucy wanted to talk to Rita away from both Zoey and Charlie. Rita had to make a home visit in Rowley, so they agreed to meet at the Dolce Vita Café in Ipswich, a little coffeehouse that served cappuccino and Italian pastries. Ipswich was only a few miles north of Cape Light on the coast of Cape Ann, but far enough away for some privacy.

  “It’s too bad you weren’t able to get the police over there faster,” Rita now said, sipping her espresso. “You could have detained him and had him arrested.”

  “Maybe,” Lucy said. “Guys like that never stay in jail very long, and then they come back and do more harm. How can we help Zoey? How do we protect her? I’m sure she’s thinking of running away again. I spoke to her about it—very firmly. I tried to convince her that she has to stay with us, for her own good.”

  “You said the right thing, Lucy. I’ll talk to her about it, too. She can appear before a judge and apply for an order of protection, and this Kurt would be arrested if he came within a certain distance of her.”

  “Does an order of protection really work?” Lucy asked skeptically.

  “It’s really just a deterrent. Nothing is one hundred percent foolproof, unfortunately.”

  It seemed to depend on how persistent this boy was, how obsessed with chasing Zoey—all factors that no one could be certain of. It was all so trying and worrisome.

  “I’ll ask her about it,” Lucy said. “But I think I know what she’s going to say. She doesn’t have a lot of faith in the legal system.”

  “I’ll talk it over with her, too,” Rita promised.

  “I guess we’ll just have to take care of her, watch over her, until this kid gives up and goes away,” Lucy added.

  Rita put down her espresso cup. “Did you speak to your husband about applying for guardianship?”

  “Not yet,” Lucy admitted. “We’ve been very busy. We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.” And I haven’t been able to get up the nerve, she added silently. This latest episode was not going to make Charlie feel more positive about the idea, either. In fact, if he’d had any inclination at all toward keeping Zoey with them, this incident would probably change that.

  From Lucy’s point of view, the situation really changed things, too. She couldn’t abandon Zoey now. Not when the girl’s actual safety was at stake. Lucy just wouldn’t do it. No matter what Charlie said.

  WHEN LUCY GOT HOME FROM WORK THAT NIGHT, ZOEY AND THE BOYS were watching a video in the family room. Lucy guessed it was one of those silly comedies, with a lot of “boy” humor. Jamie was laughing so hard, he could barely catch his breath. When Zoey wasn’t saying, “Ugh . . . gross!” Lucy heard her laughing, too. That was a welcome sound.

  Charlie sat at the kitchen table, paying bills, the table covered with his calculator and paperwork, even though he had a desk at home and another in the diner and could have easily done it in a more private space. He needed to grunt and sigh as he wrote out the checks, ask Lucy questions about charges on credit cards, and generally make a drama out of the process.

  Lucy knew this was not a good time to bring up any serious topics. Bill-paying always put him in a foul mood, but she had to talk to him about Zoey and couldn’t wait for a better moment.

  Lucy heated a pot of soup and brought a bowl to the table. She cleared a little spot and sat down. “Charlie, can I speak to you about something? I know you’re busy, but this is important.”

  He peered at her over the edge of his reading glasses. He was tapping numbers into the calculator and held up his index finger. “One second . . . this water bill is out of control. We need to tell the kids to take shorter showers. Especially the mermaid you’ve got living on the third floor,” he added, meanin
g Zoey, of course.

  She did take a lot of long showers, always washing her hair. But that was a teenage girl thing. They lived in the bathroom.

  “I’ll talk to Zoey and the boys about that. We all need to use less water—for the environment.” Charlie grunted at that. He wasn’t worried about the environment; he was thinking of his checkbook. “I met with Zoey’s social worker today,” Lucy began. “It’s not too late for us to apply to be Zoey’s permanent guardians. They haven’t found a family for her, and Rita thinks that Zoey is doing very well with us. She’s come a long way in just a month, don’t you think?”

  Charlie shook his head and yanked off his glasses. “Please, Lucy. You know how I feel about it. What about that kid who nearly tore my place apart? Is that what I’d have to look forward to if she stays here?”

  “That just goes to prove how much Zoey needs us. We can help her, Charlie. We can put her on the right track. We would never have let her get involved with a boy like that. Don’t you see? She hasn’t had anyone looking out for her. She’s a good kid under all the makeup and hair dye. She’s a hard worker, too, you have to admit that.”

  Charlie nodded. “She does work hard. She gets the job done and doesn’t complain. But is that a reason to adopt her? Do I have to adopt Trudy now, too?”

  Lucy sighed. Were they going to get anywhere with this conversation when he answered her like that?

  Charlie sat back and folded his arms over his chest. He stared at the ceiling, appealing to some unseen force in the ceiling fan for patience.

  “She just needs a chance, Charlie. I think you see that. She needs to be around people who will help her have more confidence and self-esteem. I think we’ve already helped her. Rita thinks so, too. I’m almost certain that Zoey has a learning disability and has never gotten proper help for it. That’s why she dropped out of school. If we could help her with that, she would at least finish high school, maybe even go on to college someday. Anyone can see she’s very bright.”