Solomon's Oak

by Jo-Ann Mapson

  “Over my dead body,” Halle said.

  “Halle! Don’t talk like that on Christmas,” Ave said, letting Edsel nibble at the dog biscuit. “Don’t either of you ever wish time away, and never joke about death.”

  The room went quiet. The Smith sisters were instantly reduced to teenage girls bickering over who had used whose mascara one minute and the next minute crying streaky black tears in each other’s arms because their father was dead of a heart attack. Twenty-three years had gone by, but every Christmas Glory expected her gentle giant of a father to walk into the room wearing his Santa hat, silver boxes in his hands with new charms for the bracelets they were too old to wear, but treasured. When Ave raised her voice in the slightest, her daughters went silent.

  “Juniper,” Ave said, “would you mind bringing me a few of those people crackers, please?”

  “Okay.” Juniper began loading up a plate.

  Glory wanted to hug her.

  Bart gestured to the computer sitting on the desk where Glory had moved it so that Juniper could use it for homework and Glory could supervise what she was doing. The screen saver defaulted to solomons-oak-chapel.com, a slide show of cakes, trees, the chapel interior, and musicians. He jiggled the mouse and whistled. “Someone has done a heck of a good job on this. Glory, did you take a class or something?”

  “Juniper did it. Isn’t it great? And in no time at all. Have her show you the link to the pirate wedding.”

  “It’s great you’re having such luck with this wedding business. Dan would be proud.”

  All day Glory had known the moment was coming. Someone would say something about Dan, then she’d feel her throat constrict and taste salt in her mouth and fight the longing to rush to the closet. Instead, she took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Thank you for saying that, Bart. I hope if he can see how we’re all faring, that he’s proud of all of us.”

  “Course he can see us,” Ave said. “He’s sitting next to His Heavenly Father and they’re both having cider spiked with a little dab of whiskey.”

  “A big dab of whiskey,” Bart said.

  “The cheese ball looks so tasty,” said Ave. “Did you make it, too, Juniper?”

  “I unwrapped it from the package.”

  “Well, good for you, dear. I can tell you’re a big help to my daughter. It’s hard to be without our loved ones, but we should be rejoicing that they’ve gone to be with the Lord in eternal love.”

  That was the second thing Glory had been dreading, her mother bringing up God, implying that Dan was happier there than he could have been here, and, by including Juniper in that conversation, implying that God was all right with lives ending in unspeakable violence. “Bart, can I get you more cider?”

  “Thanks, that’d be great.”

  While Glory ladled the spicy drink into his mug, Ave and Edsel cuddled in the rocker. Juniper delivered the plate of goodies, and immediately Halle set down her cider. She shooed Edsel away and plucked an imaginary hair off her mother’s shoulder. She also took the plate from her. Halle was practically hand-feeding her the crackers and cheese. “Be careful, Mom,” she said, holding a napkin under her hand. “You don’t want to spill on your nice new pantsuit.”

  Glory tried not to roll her eyes. This was her cue to compliment Ave on how nice she looked in the expensive red Christmas present Halle had given her early so she could wear it tonight. Subtext: Halle can afford this. Glory cannot. “Mom,” Glory said, “Grandma Denise’s necklace looks great with your outfit. Did you polish it?”

  “Your grandmother would have my hide if I let silver polish near any of her Indian jewelry. She liked everything to look like dead pawn. That’s old jewelry that was pawned by the owner, but never redeemed,” Ave said to Juniper. “She said that was how you could tell the real New Mexicans from the people who moved there from out of state. Polished concho belts so bright they could blind a person, hah! There’s nothing like Christmas in New Mexico. You girls are too young to remember the farolitos atop adobe walls, candlelight blinking against the snow, and the smell of piñon in the air.” Ave turned to Juniper. “Folks would light small bonfires in their driveways and everyone walked up Canyon Road. It’s magical, Juniper. Maybe someday soon your new mom will take you to see it.”

  “I’d love to,” Glory said. “But right now I think it’s time to head over to Butterfly Creek.”

  “Mom, let me know if tonight’s too much for you. Bart and I can take you home whenever you feel like it. You can sleep in the backseat of the Volvo without a worry,” Halle said, looking at Glory. “It has heated seats.”

  “Well, let’s go see the fabulous car before it gets dark,” Glory said. “You guys can follow my truck over to the party.”

  “I just hope it won’t be too cold for Mom,” Halle said. “I’ve never heard of an outdoor party in December. Not to mention held at a general store.”

  Bart helped Ave to her feet and she kissed Edsel good-bye.

  Glory bit her tongue.

  JOSEPH

  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the annual Christmas Eve tradition of turning the Butterfly Creek General Store into a honky-tonk Christmas,” the banjo player said into the microphone with the word BLUE in chrome across its front. “We’ve been playing together since Adam was a pup. Our sets are eight songs long, danceable, and we don’t get fancy unless Clyde over there gets into the sangria. If you have any requests, take it up with Senora Candelaria, who is gracious enough to keep asking us back every year. Okay, boys. Let’s get down to business.”

  Joseph watched the banjo player step back and turn to the guitarist, who in turn nodded to the fiddle player, and seconds later a bluegrass version of the gospel tune “Are You Washed” drifted out into the night air, rocking the Chinese lanterns strung overhead from table to table. Joseph held his camera in front of him, considering. Live music gave a photographer the opportunity to get creative with low stage lighting. Using the flash was taking the easy way out. Worrying about it so much you missed the shot was “chimpy.” A fast shutter speed was essential, unless you were going for some artsy outcome, but all he wanted was a reminder of this evening, something he could give to Lorna for being so nice to him while he was here.

  “Cámarografo, you’re holding that little box in front of your heart like a shield,” Lorna scolded him. “Put it in your vehicle and ask some hottie to dance while you’re still young.”

  Joseph smiled at Lorna, who was gussied up in a pink, pearl-snap cowboy shirt, a pink suede fringed vest over that, jeans with rhinestones down the sides, and pink python boots. “You’re the only hottie on the scene.”

  “Nonsense,” she said close to his ear, and pointed out several women who had overdone the makeup and wore stiletto heels. “Any one of those girls would be encantada if you asked them to dance.”

  Joseph leaned close to her ear and said, “Bajaron la calle dando brincos.”

  “That’s not true. They aren’t expecting ‘happily ever after,’ Joe. It’s Christmas. Nobody wants to be alone.” Lorna let go of his hand and went off to manage other folks’ lives.

  Joseph looked around at the oil-drum barbecues grilling Santa Maria tri-tip beef and at the tables laden with side dishes. The arroz con pollo looked great, and tightly rolled taquitos with guacamole also beckoned. The nopales salad disappeared before he could get a plate, but there were no pineapple dessert tamales like those his mom always made. Maybe he should have flown home for the holidays, but he wasn’t ready for a roomful of relatives’ concern, his mother’s babying him, his father wearing that look that meant “¡No seas niño o crío!”—when are you going to snap out of it! He’d call them tomorrow, then call Fidela, Rico’s wife, and the boys, Hecktor and Antonio, to make sure they’d received the presents he’d splurged on—mountain bikes for the boys, a fancy ice-cream maker for Rico’s widow. Transparent gestures, he knew, but he had to do something.

  He felt a hand on his arm and turned to see Juniper
pushing Glory Solomon toward him. Glory was wearing the blue dress again and had a barn coat draped over her shoulders. What with the oil-barrel bonfires and heat lamps, it was warm enough out here on the patio deck that a light jacket sufficed. He smiled and said hello, but it was impossible to hear her talk, so he followed them over to the food tables, carefully weaving in and out of guests and dancers.

  “I didn’t know you knew Lorna,” Glory said when their ears stopped ringing. “How are you, Mr. Vigil?”

  She hadn’t brought up the runaway-horse rescue, which meant Juniper hadn’t told them about their earlier meeting. Interesting. Should he bust Juniper on Christmas Eve? When he made eye contact with her, she made the slightest shake of her head no.

  “Call me Joseph, and I’m decent. How’s the wedding business? Or did I ruin your reputation?”

  Glory smiled. “Not at all. We have bookings in February and April.”

  “Excellent news. Happy holidays.” He turned to move along, but she stopped him.

  “Wait. I was wondering. We’re kind of a ragtag bunch, but would you care to meet my family?”

  “Lead the way,” he said, because what kind of tarado said no? He placed his hand on her shoulder, steering through the crowd. Coming up on her family, he was surprised to learn Ave Smith was much shorter than her daughters and frail-boned in a way that spoke of long-term illness. When she held her gnarled hand out to shake, he placed both of his around it and felt the heat that emanated from her bones.

  “Glory told me that you made the pirate wedding day interesting.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll never live that story down.”

  “It’s good to have stories that make us laugh at ourselves,” Ave said.

  Joseph looked at Juniper, and he knew she was thinking of the horse debacle only hours ago. “That’s so true, Mrs. Smith. What do you think, Juniper?”

  “I guess,” Juniper said, looking around, he could tell, for somewhere else to be.

  She reminded him of the kids he’d worked with back in Albuquerque. If they could take one tenth of the energy they put into acting cool and divert it into schoolwork, 100 percent of them would graduate instead of only 43 percent. He turned to shake Glory’s sister’s hand. She gave him the royal fish-eye, but he smiled and said, “Lovely to meet you, Halle. Your sister told me about you.”

  “Really? What did she say?”

  “That you’re her best friend and role model, and I can see why.”

  Juniper giggled, and Glory looked dumbfounded. Eh, so what if he was feeding her abono. It was Christmas.

  “Well, I don’t know what to say.”

  “No need to say anything,” Joseph said. “This must be your husband? How do you do, sir?”

  The brother-in-law seemed warm and engaging, but he also looked as if he’d rather be watching ESPN. He stepped up and shook Joseph’s hand and asked him about his camera.

  “It’s a Canon EOS 40D 10.1 megapixel SLR.”

  “Sweet,” Bart said. “Are you here in an official capacity?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Bart means, are you taking pictures for Lorna?” Glory said, saving him.

  “No, just for fun. Would you like a family portrait?”

  “I thought you didn’t like photographing people,” Glory said.

  “I make exceptions for holidays.”

  “In that case we’d love it,” Glory said. Halle stood with her side to the camera, and Joseph smiled because so many women used that trick, believing it made them appear slimmer. Halle was nowhere near fat; in fact, she looked a little scrawny to him. Juniper stretched her arms around her mother and foster grandmother as if she’d known them all her life, but steered clear of the sister/aunt, who steered clear of her. Ah, families. Joseph framed them in various ways. Juniper’s face piercings caught the light, and Joseph took advantage of it. He took five or six pictures, then a portrait of Glory alone with Juniper. Juniper leaned over Glory’s shoulder, her two-tone hair falling forward. Glory put her hand up to hold Juniper’s. When she smiled, Joseph knew it was a keeper the second the shutter clicked.

  “Remember just how you posed for this picture,” he said. “If you take the same pose every year, you’ll create a story.”

  “Of what?” Juniper asked.

  “Of how much everything changes.”

  “Or stays the same,” Glory added.

  “Ooh, that sounds so mysterious,” Halle interrupted. “Take one of Bart and me. Maybe we can use it on a future Christmas card.”

  Joseph obliged. “Any more?”

  Glory turned to her brother-in-law. “No offense, Bart, but could we take one of just us ladies?”

  “A great idea,” he said.

  Halle stepped into the shot, turning sideways.

  “Move closer together,” Joseph said. He took shot after shot, looking for the moment that revealed each of their personalities. Glory, getting the job done. Her mother, Ave, gracefully existing with pain that shaped her days. Halle, smart, efficient, dressed to the nines on the outside, insecure on the inside. Then there was Juniper, the wild card.

  “This will be a lovely addition to my family album,” Mrs. Smith said.

  Juniper had had enough. “I’m going to find the restroom,” she said, and walked away.

  “Stay close,” Glory called after her.

  Even with the hormones and boy craziness that came with her age group, Joseph envied Glory time with the smart-mouthed kid. But why was he thinking about teenagers? Lorna would say, “A perfect opportunity to get close to a pretty woman and what do you have to show for it? A camera full of their moments.” So he stayed and made himself talk. “Where do you folks live?” he asked Halle and Bart.

  Halle answered for the two of them. “We live in the North Bay area, Santa Rosa. Have you been there?” With her sequined top and black trousers she could have been on her way to see some Russian ballet with $200 theater tickets.

  “No, but I know your trees.”

  “Our what?”

  “Santa Rosa trees. The controversy over removing eucalyptus.”

  “They’re like candle wicks,” Halle said. “You don’t want them in your backyard, that’s for sure.”

  “What trees do you have on your property?” Joseph asked.

  He’d given Bart an entrance. “We have crab apple and an ornamental plum, but my pride and joy is our Spring of Equinox cherry. It grows like a weed, and every year when it blooms, our yard hums with bees. I always wanted to give beekeeping a try.”

  “I’m unfortunately allergic,” Halle said.

  “This is true,” Bart said.

  “Do you know about the ancient Japanese cherry tree Yamataka Jindai Zakura?” Joseph asked.

  “Come again?” Bart said.

  “Sorry. The Yamataka Jindai Zakura, estimated to be eighteen hundred years old. Story goes that the second-century folk hero Yamato Takeru Nomiko planted it. It still produces fruit.”

  “That is some kind of miracle,” Bart said.

  “Oh. You’re a gardener?” Halle said. “I can’t tell you how many gardeners I’ve hired who quit without telling me.”

  “Halle!” Glory said.

  “What? I just asked a simple question. Did I offend you, Senor Vigil?”

  Senor.

  “Not at all,” Joseph said. “I’m not a gardener, but my father is a fifth-generation farmer. I’m interested in unusual trees, which is how I met your sister, because of Solomon’s Oak.”

  “Did you grow up in the area?” Halle added.

  “No,” Glory said. “He comes from New Mexico, just like Mom.”

  Joseph looked at her, surprised.

  “Juniper told me,” Glory said. “Joseph, our mother was born in Clovis.”

  The thin woman said, “Girls, I may be an old lady, but I can still flap my jaw without assistance. Joseph, I don’t suppose you know my hometown?”

  “My family comes from Hatch and Santa Fe. But, sure, I know Clovis. There’s a lot of
new development going on there. I bet I know what you miss about it: Tucumcari Mountain, the Buddy Holly museum, and the State Theater.”

  “Does that ever bring back memories. I miss the smell of piñon fires, but I don’t miss the thunderstorms.”

  Joseph laughed. “My grandmother used to tell me that storms were caused by birds flapping their wings.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He could tell Ave Smith had been away from New Mexico so long she’d forgotten what weather could do. Late snowstorms, lightning strikes, lack of rainfall. The conversation stalled, and Joseph struggled for a graceful exit. “Where did Juniper go? I was hoping to tell her merry Christmas again. That is a great kid you have there, Glory.”

  The surprised look Glory gave him said it all—Juniper was a handful, Glory’s family wasn’t 100 percent behind the foster-daughter business, and add that to the first Christmas without her husband, she was hanging on by a thread. He continued to hold her gaze longer than was polite. It occurred to him that after separating himself from his own family, here was the person he wanted to tell his story to, but the place was too crowded, and besides, it was Christmas. She might not understand about the prescription medicine; there was Rico’s death. Too much, really. Would her smile turn to glacier ice, or would she look away as Isabel had near the end of things? He couldn’t take the chance.

  “Juniper is over there.” Glory pointed. “Looks like she’s visiting with Elliot, Lorna’s great-nephew. Oh, dear. I think she’s flirting. Maybe I should go get her before things get out of hand.”

  “Let her have some fun,” Ave said.

  Glory looked at Joseph and he smiled. “Your mom’s right. She’s a good kid.”

  “If only you knew,” Glory said softly, so that no one caught it but him.

  The band had played a couple of songs already, “Jerusalem Ridge,” “Up and Around the Bend,” and now began “Doubting Thomas,” the first slow-tempo song of the night. “Thanks, I’d love to dance,” Glory said, pulling Joseph away from her family.