Halos

by Kristen Heitzmann

  She pulled the truck into the lot. Steve had the door open by the time she reached it. He’d been right there packing boxes. She wouldn’t think rare books were in such demand, but it was right before Christmas.

  “Any luck?”

  She smiled. “Well, I didn’t find my car, but I guess that’s all right.”

  “It is?”

  She shrugged. “I must not be supposed to have it right now.”

  He stared at her. “Right. Well, I have three more cratefuls to process, and you can clean the books up and shelve them.”

  Alessi pulled off her jacket. Wouldn’t it be funny if Steve was the good fairy? She almost giggled at the thought. That would be one great disguise.

  She worked with him well into the morning, feeling a fresh anticipation after her morning’s revelation. She shouldn’t have doubted just because things looked grim. That was how magic was. You couldn’t expect it—only be ready when it happened.

  Alessi’s cheerfulness flummoxed him. She had gone out the door embarrassed and frustrated, determined to find her car, then come back resigned. More than resigned; serene. What could possibly have wrought the change? Or was it just the way her mind worked?

  Maybe she couldn’t hold on to anything that troubled her. It could be some defense mechanism, or true delusion. Maybe she wouldn’t look at things she didn’t want to see. She glossed it with a platitude and went about as though everything had just come right.

  But while she was out finding sunshine, he’d grown concerned. Yes, it had seemed funny, finding her bra on the door. And her reactions had amused him as well. But the more he thought about the situation, the less he liked it. It was one more indication that someone in Charity had her car.

  The bra had felt like a prank, but it was also a message. In spite of her speech, this person would not be intimidated. Instead, he would humiliate her. He was in control. He’d said in essence, “I have it, and I’ll do what I like with it, and no one in Charity will believe you no matter how many speeches you make.”

  What was he thinking? His scenario assumed the person who took the car was at the church to hear her. He couldn’t believe that. It was like imagining Dave or Ben had taken it. He’d grown up with these people. He knew them. Or did he?

  Hadn’t he told Alessi what a poor judge of character he was? He wouldn’t have believed Barb could treat him as she had. He really knew nothing at all about people, what they were capable of. That’s why he steered clear of any relationship deeper than the friendships he knew and trusted.

  Mary came in with Lyn and Cait, and Alessi greeted them at the door and brought the girls over to his candy bowl. He watched with his peripheral vision as Cait took butterscotch and Lyn went back and forth between cinnamon or blue mint, then settled on butterscotch like her sister.

  Mary said, “Hi, Steve.”

  He said, “How are you, Mary?” without stopping his fingers on the keys.

  “Just fine.” She turned to Alessi. “Could you help me choose something here for Ben?” She glanced over her shoulder as though he might find her out. “I want to get him something meaningful.”

  Alessi smiled. “I’m sure we can find him something.”

  Mary took Cait and Lyn by the hands. “Here I work at Wal-Mart with tons and tons of stuff, but Ben just isn’t that sort of guy.”

  Alessi nodded. “Not the kind to give a set of screwdrivers to.”

  Steve wondered what she based that on. She’d only known Ben a week.

  “I want something special,” Mary said. “I’ve been saving.”

  He couldn’t help turning to see what Alessi would recommend as they made their way forward from his desk.

  She said, “Steve has some nice books that aren’t too steep. Just don’t look in the glass cases.” But then she paused. “Except there is one….” She went to a case he did not keep locked but that did protect some valuable books and took one out. “This is a pictorial history of Hollywood with some great old photos.”

  He could hardly have chosen better, and he’d known Ben all his life. But the book, with its dustcover in perfect condition, was over a hundred dollars. Mary could not afford it.

  She took the book and turned the leaves with reverence. “Wouldn’t he just love it?”

  He would. Ben hardly ever came into the store, but if he’d seen that book, he’d want it.

  “What were you looking to spend?” Alessi asked.

  Steve got up from his desk. “You can have it for thirty dollars.”

  Alessi turned to him, eyes shining. She knew what was penciled inside the cover.

  Mary smiled, then dropped her eyes. “Thirty’s about what I hoped to spend.”

  She had Cait and Lyn to make a special Christmas for. Ben would hate for her to take away from that on his account. “Ring it up, Alessi.”

  She did, then tucked another butterscotch in each girl’s hand. They smiled and waved as Mary took them out.

  Alessi turned. “That was nice.”

  “Mmm.” He sat back at the computer. “Do you know every book I have?”

  She laughed. “Hardly.”

  He didn’t believe her for a minute.

  Twenty-Three

  THE THOUGHTS WERE GETTING HARD TO CONTROL. He hadn’t started with a plan, had just seen his chance and done it. More of a risk than he’d ever taken. But he wanted it. Want worked in him like a parasite, growing and filling and sapping until it controlled.

  He hadn’t even realized it was hers. He didn’t care whose it was. And it had been so easy. She was stupid. That thought felt good. Stupid and helpless and trapped. She couldn’t leave, because he had her car. He had it, and he’d keep it. But that wasn’t enough. Not since he’d seen her.

  His throat ached, and the pain of it made him angry. It was the angry thoughts he wasn’t sure he could control. They worked their way down his arms to his hands, made them tight and hard. And strong. She might be tall for a girl, but she was still nothing.

  Alessi wore Amanda’s sweater to church on Sunday. She thought maybe they wouldn’t let her in, but Steve met her at the door and invited her to sit with him. By the disappointed looks in many of the female faces they passed, she guessed his plan was twofold: keep her under control and use her as a shield.

  He stood beside her and held the book for the opening hymn. He sang it nicely too. His singing voice was a lot better than his growl, though lately he’d seemed more confused than grumpy.

  Pastor Welsh looked a little tense as he took his place before them, his stance just a touch defensive, as though he’d fend off usurpers to his podium if he had to. But she had no intention of disrupting things again. She was hoping for direction and maybe even confirmation of her new perspective.

  “Our text today is Paul’s letter to the Philippians, chapter two. ‘If you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any fellowship with the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion, then make my joy complete by being likeminded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose.’”

  His voice gained strength as he read. “‘Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests but also to the interests of others.’”

  Steve had demonstrated that with Mary yesterday, discounting the book so she could give it to Ben.

  “‘Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.’”

  Beautiful words, and so appropriate with Christmas on the way. The thought of God becoming a tiny baby, as helpless in every way as any other, made her heart swell with gratitude. He knew what it was like to have nothing.

  “‘And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross.’”


  She hated to think what He suffered. What her sins and all the world’s had brought upon Him. The hairs on her neck rose, and she turned to find Carl glaring. Good grief, was he still fuming? Steve caught the look, as well, and nudged her with his knee. She saw the warning in his expression. He didn’t want her to make trouble. Well, she wasn’t planning on it.

  “‘Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.’”

  She hadn’t even thought about the pastor or his voice, those words were so compelling. But he stepped out now and said, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.” His hands opened. “Our attitude should be the same as that of Jesus Christ. That of a servant, humble and thinking more highly of others than ourselves. Not finding fault and accusation.” He looked at her directly. “Not demanding what is ours, but surrendering all to the glory of God the Father.”

  Alessi caught her breath. It was confirmation all right, but it didn’t bring the peace she’d hoped for. Could she surrender the Mustang forever? How could that glorify God? But she had no doubt that was exactly what Burton Welsh wanted. Why else look at her with that fire in his eye? Anticipating God’s miracle had given her hope, but there was no promise in the pastor’s face now, only a fierce expectation.

  She ducked her chin and tried to feel humble. Jesus had better material to work with. He didn’t battle selfish ambition or vain conceit. Was it selfish to want what was hers? Vain to hope for a positive resolution … a miracle? Did God want her to give up her hope for a miracle?

  An awful squeezing made her stomach ache. Give up on the halo?

  “If we are God’s people, this is our model, being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and purpose. And not allowing anything to come between us, but standing firm on what we know. We have the victory.”

  The congregation stirred.

  “We have the victory.” This last was spoken with brash assurance. Steve held the book for the next hymn, but she couldn’t sing it.

  She might have the final victory, but right now the strongest thing she felt was loss.

  Diana had invited her to dinner Monday night, and when Dave dropped her off, Karen was there as well. Alessi hugged them both. After the growing hostility from most of the town, their acceptance was extra sweet.

  “Come in, come in.” Diana waved her through the door. “We’re having hors d’oeuvres.”

  Diana must do well with her cosmetology. Her house was larger than Mary’s or the men’s. And there was no lack of festivity. Everywhere Alessi looked there were bows and poinsettias, snowmen, Santas, reindeer, a créche in two rooms. One tree was done in blue and gold with clear glass ornaments, and the other was entirely penguins. Personally, Alessi preferred Dave’s fishing lures, but she didn’t say that, just, “I guess Dave’s is a theme tree too.”

  Karen and Diana both laughed. “Quite a piece of work. Here.” Diana handed her a small plate with four different hors d’oeuvres.

  It was just the light supper she needed after all the rich, heavy meals she’d had lately, especially the lunches at Moll’s with Steve. He seemed to think the midday meal was part of the deal. He did eat slower now that he’d realized they’d be cleared out the minute he finished and that usually meant there was still food on her plate. But that left more time for questions and scrutiny.

  Even at the best of times, eating with him was nothing like the peaceful times with Ed. They had shared their sack lunches nearly every day. She remembered him peeling his boiled egg, one small fleck at a time, then salting it and slicing it bite by bite with his pocketknife. She missed him.

  Swallowing the ache, she picked up the strange airy cracker with a pair of tiny pink shrimp settled atop a blob of something creamy. She bit in. “Mmm.”

  “Those are sesame rice crackers.”

  The texture was like a Styrofoam egg carton, but they were packed with flavor. Alessi tried the jumbo stuffed olive next. “How do you come up with these ideas?”

  “Oh, I love to experiment.”

  Karen nodded hugely. “And it’s not always successful. Remember the tongue soufflé?”

  “We don’t need to go into that.” Diana waved her off, caught Alessi’s arm, and tucked her onto a low-backed stool at the counter. A floral spray ran along the center of the counter, complete with glass balls and shiny plastic beads. Even the microwave door had a red velvet bow and plastic mistletoe. “Now, I will admit the soup might be a little unusual.”

  “Soup?” Alessi looked at Karen as Diana walked to the refrigerator. “The soup’s in the refrigerator?”

  “It’s a chilled sour cream beet soup.” Diana took out the tray holding three small bowls.

  At least she knew enough to serve slim portions of her experiments. “Does Dave like interesting meals?” She thought of his chili, about as basic as you could get, but which had reheated nicely for breakfast the next morning.

  The women shared a look.

  “He’ll learn.” Karen slid one bowl to Alessi and took up her spoon. “Let’s bless this course.” She uttered a short pleasant prayer of thanks.

  Bending her head over the swirled purple in her bowl, Alessi silently added, Please don’t let me hurt Diana’s feelings. But the soup was delicious. More like pudding, in her opinion, but if Diana called it soup, who was she to argue? Her experience was the generic form of Campbell’s. “You have a real talent for food.”

  Diana beamed. “So does Karen. That’s why we look this way.” Diana patted her hips.

  Though plump, both women were attractive, more so than Amanda Bier, in Alessi’s opinion. Their figures fit them as she supposed her own did. She’d had a year or two where she wished she were petite, then gave that up and accepted her height. And Karen had lovely eyes. Steve should take notice of that. It was obvious that they knew each other well. And Karen had just the sort of heart to handle Steve.

  Diana gathered the bowls. “Now the salad.”

  Alessi closed her eyes. And here she’d thought the hors d’oeuvres were supper. Again the salad was a miniature portion. A few crisp, scraggly leaves with two sections of grapefruit, a single slice of avocado, and a spray of tiny mushrooms that looked like white balloons on strings. She lifted her fork in anticipation, but before she took a bite, Diana drizzled it all with Russian dressing.

  “Now try it.”

  They ate the course with murmurs of appreciation. It was fun and crazy to eat such elegant servings at the countertop, but Diana’s table held a vast miniature snow village, complete with tiny streetlamps that really lit. Next came rolled salmon filets stuffed with lobster and dill Havarti and, beside it, three red potatoes the size of shooter marbles sliced and fanned and drizzled with butter and fresh snipped parsley. Alessi had never tasted anything so good. But she couldn’t help wondering how Dave would like it.

  Lastly, Diana served a praline mousse parfait; fluffy clouds of chocolate mousse layered with pecan caramel filling. Karen lifted a spoonful.

  “This is the real reason we’re shaped this way.” Her blue eyes danced as she took the first bite. “Two hundred sit-ups tomorrow.”

  “Three miles.” Diana indulged herself in a dainty bite.

  Alessi tried hers and sighed. At last she’d found it. Fairy ambrosia. Oh, Mom. No disrespect, but my imagination never got this good. The mousse blanketed her tongue, awakening every taste bud. She closed her eyes and saw the fairy court, her mother presiding. Tears sprang up and trickled out the corners of her eyes. She opened them, embarrassed.

  Karen and Diana were staring at her. “My praline mousse has never made someone cry before.”

  Karen touched her arm. “What is it, honey?”

  Alessi tried to smile. “My mother and I played a game, that whatever we were eating was ambrosia from the fairy queen. If she’d ever t
asted this”—Alessi dipped another spoonful—“she’d never have to imagine again. But maybe in heaven she tastes it every day.”

  Diana’s eyes teared up. “No one’s ever paid me such a compliment.”

  “Now look what you’ve done.” Karen dabbed her own eyes.

  They laughed. Alessi caught both their hands. “Thank you for having me.”

  After singing carols at the piano, Karen drove Alessi back to the store. “You’d be welcome to stay with me if I weren’t leaving town tomorrow. I’d even let you stay without me, but I’ve got someone house-sitting already. For the dog.”

  “I’m fine here.” Alessi looked at the storefront, elegant and festive. Steve had done that without feminine prodding, though probably following his father’s tradition. She smiled. “Diana offered too. But it’s only for a couple of weeks.”

  “Then what?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You could stay.”

  Not if someone had taken her car, pitted her in some way against the town, or at least the sheriff. He’d been markedly cold since she’d asked people to help him do his job. She opened the car door and found the store key in her pocket. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Twenty-Four

  ALESSI LET HERSELF INTO THE FRONT DOOR and locked it behind her. It was strange to live in a bookstore, but at least she was earning that space. She didn’t freeload easily, and with Diana’s extended family coming in tomorrow, it would be too reminiscent of the six years with Aunt Carrie, everyone belonging but her.

  She took off Steve’s jacket and headed for the back. Diana’s meal had left her satisfied but not stuffed, in spite of all the courses. She hung the jacket on the nail inside the storeroom and settled onto the cot with Dickens. She opened to her place mark and jumped at a car horn out front. Had Karen forgotten something?

  The night-lights made traversing the store easy, but they cast eerie shadows between the shelves. She hurried forward to the window and stopped short as her Mustang swung onto the sidewalk and jerked to a stop. The top was down, and she stared at the driver.