In the bleak midwinter asacm-1

by M. R. Sellars

  Merrie could also tell that Mom was already wearing down, and Becca’s outburst wasn’t helping at all. The observation made her feel more confident about not having said anything to her mother about what had happened at school. Right now it wasn’t something Mom could handle. Not without Daddy to help, at least. But the confidence came at a price, because at the same time it made her feel even more afraid for their safety being out here and not at home. It was obvious to Merrie that her mother couldn’t protect herself and Becca, and she still couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t followed them.

  Unfortunately, as her sister’s temper fit grew in volume, her mother’s nerves began to fray, and she finally gave in, promising that she would take her next-door to see Santa once they had finished the shopping.

  Becca was happy about getting her way, of course, but still not satisfied. As five-year-olds tend to be, she was twice as impatient as she was excited, which was still just as annoying. Merrie actually shared her unwillingness to wait, but for a wholly different reason. Panic had set in once again as soon as her mother made the promise. Their current detour was already bad enough because it turned out that Norris’s Market was packed with people doing last minute shopping too, and that was turning a short stop for a few things into what felt the same as a whole morning grocery-shopping trip, just like they did every other Saturday. The idea of it taking even longer still before they got home was just unthinkable for her.

  Merrie decided she had to keep that from happening, and so she did the only thing she could think of to do. She had offered to take her sister next door to visit Santa while her mother waited in line at the butcher counter. Divide and conquer, that’s what Daddy always said. If they could just get this all over with now, they could go home and wait for him. Then she could tell the secret. Then maybe she wouldn’t hurt inside so much. And maybe, just maybe, things could finally be okay…or at least as okay as they could ever be again.

  Although the sick feeling in her stomach had sort of gone away for a time, it had never really left completely. However, now it was back worse than before as she watched the brightly colored “Holiday Express” electric train weaving its way through a fantasy toyland on the other side of the window glass. As much as she wanted this to be over, she now found herself stalling. With each step closer to Bremerton’s, her dread at seeing Santa Claus had increased. Even though it wasn’t him, the suit was the same, and she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

  The train, however, was different. Through the weather frosted pane she could barely hear the dull tick, tick, tick of the wheels on the metal track as the engine circled, pulling behind it a line of colorfully decorated cars. But, if she concentrated hard and listened closely, it was definitely there.

  Tick, tick, tick, swish…

  Tick, tick, tick, swish…

  And then the faint whistle…

  Tick, tick, tick, swish…

  In those sounds she found some minor bit of comfort-not exactly from what she was hearing really, but from the pleasant remembrance the rhythmic noise brought rushing back into her head. The vivid memory of standing here with Daddy for what seemed like hours last Christmas season, watching the train, pointing out the various miniature scenes, and grinning so hard that it made her face hurt.

  Happiness and joy…

  But the comfort of the memory didn’t stay with her for very long. Last Christmas was forever ago, and now things were all different and messed up. Yes, the train still chugged around the track, just as it had done then. The tiny caroler figurines were still “singing” in front of the tiny plastic church, just as they had done then. The brightly colored lights strung around the display still winked off and on, just as they had done then.

  But that was then.

  Now everything was changed. Merrie’s face hurt but she already knew that this time it wasn’t because she was grinning. She was no longer able to feel those things called happiness and joy. She could only feel the darkness and the pain.

  She swallowed hard and blinked. When she looked again her eyes focused on her own reflection in the glass. It came as no surprise that the face staring back at her wore a deep frown. After what had happened today, she wasn’t so sure she would ever smile again.

  A lick of icy wind weaved its way through the bustle of people moving along the sidewalk behind them, and it blew hard against her back. She watched the reflection as her hair whipped around her head, a shock of it eventually coming to rest across her face and blocking her tired eyes. She brushed it away with the back of her hand, and then purely out of habit she reached down as she momentarily hiked up her leg and proceeded to adjust her sagging knee sock. The thin cotton did little to protect her against the cold, but right now she really didn’t care.

  Still quietly staring into the window she pulled her free hand back inside the arm of her coat and clenched her fist hard. Her fingernails dug into her palm, and as she felt the sting she winced and then relaxed her fingers. She had thought the pain helped earlier, but now she wasn’t so sure. It didn’t make anything go away this time. It was just more pain on top of what was already there. Maybe there was nothing at all that could help her.

  Maybe this really was all her fault. Maybe God was punishing her for something. That’s what Sister Conran would say. “God punishes bad girls.” She had heard those words more than once from the nun, but they had never really applied to her. That is, maybe until now.

  Merrie just wished God would tell her what she had done wrong, so she could confess her sin and be sorry. She would say Hail Marys and Our Fathers until she lost her voice if it would make all of this go away and keep her from going to Hell.

  She didn’t want to go to Hell. She felt like she was already there anyway, and that was bad enough. If Hell really was worse than this, she didn’t want any part of it.

  Her jumbled thoughts were interrupted a moment later when she felt a furious tugging at her other arm. The constant pull was soon joined by seemingly desperate words screeching into her ears.

  “Mare-reee…” Becca pleaded. “C’mon, Merrie… C’mon… I doan wanna lookit the train no more… I wanna see Santa now.”

  “Okay, okay,” Merrie mumbled, giving in and allowing her sister to drag her toward the door. “But we have to be quick. Okay? Mom will be waiting.”

  Becca began chanting, “Santa Claus is coming… He knows you’re naughty… Santa Claus is coming… He knows you’re ‘wake… Santa Claus is…”

  “Don’t sing, Becca, okay?” Merrie grumbled.

  The request fell on all but deaf ears, not that it really mattered. Her younger sister was too overwhelmed with excitement, and she couldn’t stop singing even if she tried.

  Still holding on to Becca’s hand, Merrie reached out and tugged the door open. The bell at the top jangled, then her ears were filled with voices, holiday music, the swishing and ticking of the model train, and all of the other sounds that came with a busy store at Christmas. But as loudly as they echoed inside her head, they couldn’t push away his voice. It was louder still.

  “… You don’t want to make me kill your parents, right? Promise you won’t tell…”

  Immediately following the wall of noise came a blast of warm air rushing outward into her face. It was comfortable and stuffy at the same time. Chasing away the chill of winter, but also stale and thick in a way that made it hard to breathe. Like the sounds, it too was filled with way too many things-

  The sweet smells of candies, and the buttery aroma of popcorn…

  The spiciness of candles and perfumes…

  Of fruitcake…

  The chemically sharpness of flocking…

  Of plastic trees…

  And even the smell of the people shopping…

  Floating in between like some kind of invisible glue holding the odors together, was a weird, pretend Christmas tree scent. The kind that came in a spray can and made everything smell like the pine sawdust the janitor always used whenever someone puked on the floor at school.<
br />
  School…

  The janitor’s closet…

  The piney stink was just another reminder that Merrie really didn’t need right now. Her stomach felt like it flip-flopped and her mouth started to water. She paused, holding the door open as the fear began chewing its way through her insides all over again.

  However, Becca wasn’t going to wait.

  Still set on her single-minded mission, the five-year-old stomped forward toward the threshold. When she could go no farther because of Merrie’s grip on her hand, she stopped chanting her joyful tune and began tugging hard on her sister’s arm. “C’mon, Mare-reee… C’mon…”

  Merrie gave in and plodded slowly through the doorway and into the store, even though the panic in her chest made her want to turn around and run away as fast and as far as she could. Even worse, the feeling was getting stronger with each step, and before they had even made their way past the checkout stand she found herself once again trying to reason out a deal with her younger sibling in order to escape the horror of facing anyone in a red suit, even if it really was just Mister Babbs behind the beard, just like he always was at Christmas.

  “Becca…” she asked as the five-year-old pressed forward with her in tow. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to just look at the train some more?”

  “No!” her sister yipped.

  “But you didn’t see everything. I can show you…”

  “No!”

  “I’ll let you have my dessert after dinner tonight.”

  “No! Santa!”

  “But you already saw Santa,” Merrie objected. “When Mommy and Daddy took us shopping at the big department store last weekend. Remember?”

  “Santa! Santa!” Becca demanded, pulling harder as her older sister came to a full stop and began to resist.

  Merrie started to object again and even considered pulling big sister rank on her. “But, Becca, I’m…”

  Before she could finish, a cheerful voice interrupted. “Did I hear someone say they’re looking for Santa?”

  “Santa! Santa!” Becca chirruped, dancing in place as the excitement percolated from her tiny body.

  Miss Ruth, the store manager, smiled down at them, then turned up her wrist and pushed back her sleeve so that she could check her watch. “Hmm,” she said. “Well, I believe Santa is taking a break right now so that he can feed the reindeer up on the roof.”

  A wave of intense relief washed over Merrie as the words registered. She couldn’t have asked for a better excuse to get out of this whole mess.

  Becca’s eyes widened and she yelped, “Rainn-deeeer! Can I pet Rudolph? Can I?”

  “No, honey, I’m afraid it’s too slippery up on the roof for little girls,” Miss Ruth explained, apology clear in her voice. Then she asked, “You’re Elizabeth Callahan’s girls, right?”

  “Yes ma’am,” Merrie replied.

  “Is she next door?”

  “Yes ma’am, at Norris’s,” Merrie answered again, this time with a slight nod, then she added, “She’s waiting in line for the butcher, so I said I would bring Becca over to see Santa. But since he’s busy…”

  Miss Ruth smiled wide. “Oh, no need to worry dear. Santa should be back down in just a few minutes.”

  Unfortunately, that bit of news sent a second wave crashing down upon Merrie, but this one made her feel miserable all over again.

  Miss Ruth squatted down in front of Becca and gave her nose a tweak as she continued. “And, you know what’s even better?”

  “What? What?” Becca asked, excitement pushing her eyes even wider at the idea of something better than petting a real, live reindeer.

  “I’m pretty sure you two are the only children in the store right now, so if you just go on back and wait, you’ll be first in line to see Santa when he’s done.”

  Becca’s body literally shook with more glee than could be contained by a full-grown adult, much less by a five-year-old. She started dancing in place once again as it fought to escape. Tugging on Merrie’s arm she demanded, “C’mon, Mare-ree! Hurry! C’mon! Santa! We kin be first…”

  Miss Ruth stood up and pointed toward the back of the store, then smiled at Merrie and gave her a wink. “Go all the way to the back, sweetheart. I’m sure he’ll be out to see you very soon.”

  “Thank you,” Merrie muttered, forcing the words out as nicely as she could, even though she didn’t feel very much like being polite anymore.

  Still dragging her feet, she stumbled along behind her sister, who seemed to need no help whatsoever finding the Jolly Elf’s lair. The farther back they went down the aisles, the less crowded it became, until finally it seemed there was nobody around but them. Bremerton’s wasn’t as huge as the fancy department store in Mais, but it was still really big. Or it seemed that way to Merrie, at least. Now, looking back over her shoulder she couldn’t even see the entrance anymore. And, no matter how hard she listened, even the tick, tick, tick of the electric train was gone. All that remained was the annoying Christmas music from above and distant voices of the shoppers.

  Becca came to a halt the moment they stepped out into the open area at the back of the store. She uttered a soft “Wow… North Pole…” but other than that she remained quiet, staring in wonder at the cardboard cutouts and bunched up blankets of glitter-covered felt “snow” that surrounded the decorated throne-like chair. The smell of peppermint candy canes mixed strongly with the other odors that were still floating around the inside of the store. It seemed to Merrie that God was intent on torturing her at every turn with smells and sounds…and just everything.

  If only she knew what she had done to make him so angry at her.

  She looked around, but the Jolly Elf was nowhere to be seen. Display stands were bunched together to one side of the area, arranged in an organized sort of mess; all to make room for the fake North Pole scenery that was now holding her little sister’s attention. On the wall, to the left of the cardboard fireplace and plastic tree and empty pretend presents, was a large door. Attached to it was a sign that read EMPLOYEES ONLY.

  “That’s probably where ‘Santa’ is really taking his break,” she thought to herself.

  Merrie’s stomach was now churning more, and she pressed the palm of her free hand against it. Even through her coat she could feel her insides gurgling and somersaulting. If only Sister Regina hadn’t made her eat that lunch, then maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly right now. And maybe she wouldn’t feel so much like she needed to puke.

  She swallowed hard and wondered how much longer they would have to wait. She really wished this would all be over. If Mister Babbs would just come out here right now in his red suit and listen to Becca for a couple of minutes and give her a candy cane, they could leave. Maybe Mom would be finished with the shopping then, and they could go home.

  Home. Safe. Then she could wait for Daddy and tell him what happened. He could fix this. She just knew he could. He had to. Because, if he couldn’t, then she really was going to Hell-if she wasn’t already there, that is.

  Merrie squeezed her eyes tightly shut and wished as hard as she could for Santa to appear and get this over with. Wishing hadn’t worked before, but this one was just a little wish. It wasn’t big like the others. Maybe it was just small enough to come true. Besides, she had no choice but to wish because she was too afraid to pray. If God really was mad at her, she knew he wouldn’t listen. Still, even if the wish didn’t work, at the very least she hoped Miss Ruth was right about Santa being here soon because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep herself from throwing up.

  However, as she stood there concentrating she remembered something Daddy always said. Be careful what you wish for, because sometimes what you wish for isn’t what you really want at all. When she heard the door she opened her eyes, and then she knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t Mister Babbs in the Santa suit this year, and in that moment Merrie began to wish that she had never wished for anything, ever.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” the sickeningly f
amiliar laugh came from the man in the Santa suit. As he started toward them he said, “Well if it isn’t, my very, very special little helper… And, ho, ho, ho… You brought a friend to see Santa…”

  CHAPTER 4

  4:15 P.M. – December 22, 1975

  Sheriff’s Department

  Hulis Township – Northern Missouri

  Clovis Meriweather started to speak but caught herself before any sound actually made it past her lips. Instead, she kept her mouth closed and bit down softly on the end of her tongue-not enough to hurt of course, but just enough to remind herself to remain quiet for the moment. The almost unconscious act was one she’d had since she was a little girl. In fact, it had started right around the time she’d heard her grandma say, “bite your tongue” in response to someone’s thoughtless comment. A year or two later, when the nuances of language began making sense to her, she realized that the instruction was really just a metaphor. However, by then it had already settled in as a quirky habit, and it just never went away.

  Clovis furrowed her brow as she took a long look at the black, velvet-covered cube resting on the desk in front of her. It had been placed on the dark green blotter with a light but purposeful thump. However, the deputy who had done the placing had not yet spoken a single word. He was still standing silently on the opposite side of her desk. She knew he wouldn’t be expecting a stereotypical reaction, so she almost gave one just to trip him up; but that really wasn’t her style at all. No, this definitely called for one of her customary off-the-wall replies.

  She released her tongue, pursed her lips, wrinkled her nose, and then looked upward to his face. As she figured, he was staring back at her with an expectant look in his eyes. She smiled and said, “Has it started snowing yet?”