The Christmas Secret

by Donna VanLiere

  “My blood flows,” Judy said.

  “Not to your heart it doesn’t,” Dave said.

  “Right before Christmas,” Judy said, dipping her spoon into the cup of applesauce and turning it over. “This is a terrible time for a stent.” She spit the word off her tongue and turned over another spoonful of applesauce.

  “What have you been doing to pass the time?” Marshall asked.

  “I’ve been thinking of everything I have to do,” she said. “And everything I’ve done. Of people I love and the people I don’t. I keep thinking of things that need to be fixed at home and of things that just need to be left alone.”

  Marshall whistled through his teeth. “Wow. This downtime has made you so reflective.”

  She pushed the tray to the side. “No, it hasn’t. It’s so boring I’m about to lose my mind!” she said, screaming toward the door again. Marshall laughed and stepped away from the bed. “Marsh!” He turned back to her. “I’ve been thinking about the gal who helped me.” He nodded. “If she hadn’t been home. I mean . . . if she hadn’t been leaving her house . . . can you find her?”

  “I can try,” he said.

  Dave sat on the side of Judy’s bed. “Word got to me that the woman left Judy’s car at Patterson’s. I haven’t had time to get it.”

  “She’s a waitress,” Judy said. “Her name’s Christy, I think.”

  “I’m on it like warm icing on a gooey cream cheese bear claw,” Marshall said, leaving.

  “Real nice to do to a sick person,” she yelled after him.

  The knock came at four thirty Monday afternoon. Zach ran to the door and swung it open before I could warn him again about looking to see who it was first. “Hi,” he said. I ran around the corner from the kitchen and saw a petite woman with wavy brown hair falling to her shoulders standing on the stairs with some sort of file in her hand. I hated it when salespeople came to the door; I never knew how to get rid of them. I was wearing a tank T-shirt pajama top and ran to the hall closet, grabbing a jacket to wear. I zipped it up and stepped next to Zach.

  “Angela Christine Eisley?” the woman said. My heart stopped. She wasn’t a salesperson. Only people in official positions called me by my full name.

  “Yes,” I said.

  She handed me a business card. “My name’s Patricia Addison. I’m with the Department of Family Services.”

  My heart jumped to my throat and I grabbed Zach’s arm. “Go back into your room.”

  “But I’m hungry,” he said.

  I bent down and whispered in his ear. “Take Haley back into your room right now.” He yanked away from me and grabbed his sister’s arm, pulling her through the hallway. We weren’t off to a good start. I was ordering my hungry children to go to Zach’s room. What could she possibly think of me?

  The woman looked sympathetic. “I’m sure you know that your ex-husband has called us.” Something fluttered high in my chest and I felt nauseous. I couldn’t respond. “Mrs. Eisley, I’m only here to talk with you. Can I come in?” I moved aside and was embarrassed by my home. Toys were scattered throughout the living room and papers and bills covered the kitchen table. I gestured toward a chair and she sat down, moving Genevieve out of the way. I took the stuffed dog from her and sat on the edge of the sofa. No one from social services had ever been inside my home. My hands felt numb and I clasped them together.

  “You may know some of the allegations your ex-husband is making against you but you may not. It’s my job to evaluate those claims. Do you know what he is alleging?” My eyes burned and I shook my head. “He is claiming that you lost your job and a teenager is supervising your children.” Something throbbed in my head. How did Brad know I was fired? She read through her notes. “The children are not eating and have been seen outside without socks or shoes.” Tears filled my eyes and I covered my face with Genevieve. Her voice was low. “Your ex-husband wants primary custody of the children.” Tears spilled over my cheeks and I shook my head back and forth. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Mrs. Addison reached into her purse and pulled out a small packet of tissues, handing it to me. I took one out and pressed it hard under my eye. She leaned on her knees looking at me. “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean that I necessarily believe your husband.” I looked up at her and she smiled.

  “I did lose my job,” I said, finding the words. “But I found another one. I start tomorrow.”

  “Where will you be working?” she asked, writing something in her notes.

  “Betty’s Bakery and Restaurant,” I said, blowing my nose.

  She smiled. “I eat there quite a bit. Do you know your hours yet?”

  I felt so stupid. I hadn’t even asked Betty what shift I’d be working. “I don’t. I go over paperwork on my first day.” She nodded and continued to write. “Normally, my kids are in school. I only had a sitter because it was Thanksgiving break. I hate leaving my kids with teenagers but I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Could their father have watched them during that time?” she asked.

  I felt trapped. “He’s supposed to see them every other weekend.”

  “Could he have watched them in place of the teenager?”

  “I . . .” My voice was trembling. “He hasn’t paid me any child support in six months.”

  Her pen moved quickly over the paper. “Have you taken him to court over child support?”

  I squeezed Genevieve in my hands. “Many times. He’ll pay it for a while and then stop for months but all the while he’s calling here and threatening me with one thing or another.” I choked on the words and stopped. “I can’t afford to keep taking him into court and he knows that. It’s just a game. Why should he see them? He doesn’t care about them.” I had more to say but I couldn’t get the words beyond my throat.

  “And the children being seen outside without socks or shoes?”

  “They don’t even like to play outside when it’s cold,” I said. An image crossed my mind and I sat forward. “On Saturday, I was helping a woman in the driveway and they did run out for a moment but I told them to get back inside. It was only for a second.” In a brief instant I imagined Mrs. Meredith standing at her window and watching. Maybe she was home after all. Maybe Brad came to the house later in the day and she was outside getting her mail and told him all about it. How else would he know?

  Patricia jotted more notes on her pad and walked through the hallway. “Can I say hello to the children?”

  I jumped up and ran to her side, opening Zach’s door. The room was a mess; his bed was unmade and toys and clothes littered the floor. I walked to the bed and pulled up the sheet and blankets, tucking them under the mattress. Patricia stood inside the door and watched them.

  Haley noticed her and leaped up, holding Brown Dog. “Do you like dogs?” she asked.

  “I love dogs,” Patricia said. “I have one real one and about a gazillion stuffed ones.”

  “What are their names?” Haley asked.

  Patricia laughed. “The real one’s name is Girl and you’d have to ask my daughters what the stuffed ones are named because I can’t keep up with them.” I moved around the room and picked up toys, tossing them into the laundry basket we used as a toy box.

  “Did you have fun on Thanksgiving break?” Patricia asked.

  “No homework,” Zach said. “I hate homework.”

  “I never liked it, either,” Patricia said. She sat on the edge of Zach’s bed. “How about you, Haley? Do you have homework?”

  “Well,” Haley said, looking up at her. “My teacher tells us to write our letters all the time and I hate that. Mom makes me sit at the table and write them and I am so bored with that.” She grabbed Long Ears and Little Baby and pulled them into her lap. “I do not like writing letters and I do not like math center.” She waved her hand in the air. “Way too many blocks to count.”

  “I never cared for math myself,” Patricia said. “Are you ready for Christmas?”

  “I’m always ready for Christmas,”
Haley said.

  “What presents do you want?”

  “Star command building set,” Zach said. “You can make spaceships and all sorts of docking ports and stuff out of it.”

  “Wow,” Patricia said. “That sounds way over my head. How about you, Haley?”

  She didn’t have to think. “Wings. So I can fly. I fly all the time at night but I need wings to help me fly during the day.”

  Patricia smiled. “I bet you’ll look just like a princess fairy.”

  Zach rolled his eyes. “She already thinks she’s a princess fairy.”

  Patricia stood and stepped over the toys. “I’ll get out of the way so you can keep playing. Bye.” The kids waved and I followed her back into the living room. “Thank you, Angela. I know this wasn’t comfortable for you.”

  A wave of urgency rushed to my chest and I was frightened about what she might write in her report. “I love my kids, Mrs. Addison.” My heart throbbed and a tear pooled in the corner of my eye as I reached for the doorknob. “I would never do anything to hurt them. I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know what Brad will do next but you need to know that I will fight him with everything I have for those two kids.” I wiped my face and nose with the back of my hand and opened the door.

  She stepped outside and turned to me. “I’ve been doing this for a long time,” she said. I wasn’t sure how to take that. “I know the difference between mess and filth. I know when kids feel secure and when they feel unloved.” She smiled and for the first time since she arrived I took a breath. Her shoes clacked on the sidewalk and she tossed her head around, stopping. “If you’re ever in a jam again you should call Glory’s Place. It’s a place for single moms and kids and people who need help. They’ll take good care of your kids.”

  I pulled the door closed behind me so the kids wouldn’t hear. “What’s next, Mrs. Addison?”

  She put her hand over her eyes to see me in the sun. “I’ll file my report.” She paused and looked up into the tree that towered over the sidewalk. “And then it’s up to your ex-husband.”

  I sighed. It never ended. “Do I have to let him see them next weekend?”

  She pulled sunglasses from her purse and slid them on her face. “No,” she said. She paused and I wondered if she was stepping out on a limb, telling me more than she should. “Different states have different rules but due to his negligence in paying child support, I don’t think there’s a judge in this state that would force you to do that.” She threw her hand in the air and I watched as she got into her car and backed down the driveway.

  I pushed open the door and moved to the kitchen, assessing the maze of cups and saucers, crayons and coloring books on the countertop. Why couldn’t I ever get ahead of anything? Why did it always feel like my life was lived in a cycle of fight, breathe, pick up, put away, fight, breathe, pick up, put away? The morning programs and evening news were filled with pictures and stories of horror and fear, the papers were crammed with worry and dread, homes were fractured, the court dockets were packed with people who hated one another, and the God of my mother seemed powerless to help. Where was the hope in any of that? Where was the help?

  I didn’t know that it was there, right in the middle of the road, waiting.

  Marshall stepped into the office and Jason leaned back in the chair. “I have no idea how Judy navigates through this antiquated software or even why she does,” he said. He leaned forward and grabbed the mouse, staring at the computer screen. “How is she today?”

  “She needs two or three stents,” Marshall said, hanging his jacket on the rack. “She’ll get them today.”

  “Before I forget . . . a guy from security came up here looking for you.”

  Marshall cuffed the sleeve of his denim shirt. “Who in security and what did he want?”

  Jason shrugged, reading something on the computer. “I didn’t get his name.”

  “Why not?” Marshall asked, annoyed.

  Jason looked up from the screen. “I didn’t think—” He stopped.

  Marshall waited for him to finish. “What? You didn’t think it was import—?”

  “No,” Jason said, cutting him off. “I just assumed he’d either—”

  “Do you listen when someone speaks or just wait for your turn to talk?”

  Jason paused, waiting. “I just assumed he’d come back or call you.”

  “What’s the greeter’s name at the front of the store today?”

  Jason shrugged, thinking. “I came in the back way today.”

  Marshall stepped up to his office and pulled open a file drawer. “I need you to take a quiz,” he said. “It’s information about the store.” He sat at his desk and stapled two sheets of paper together, writing something at the bottom of the second sheet. “If you pass this you’ll receive your check for the week.” He delivered the test to Jason. “If you don’t, I’ll keep your check until you do pass it.”

  Jason took the papers from his grandfather, smiling. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been running around this store since I was a kid. I’m pretty sure I know everything there is to know.”

  “You probably do,” Marshall said. “But this is something new employees always take and you are a new employee.”

  Jason put the test in front of him and grabbed a pencil, reading the first question out loud. “When was Wilson’s established?” He wrote “1969” and looked up at Marshall. “The fortieth anniversary banner in the front window kind of gives that away.” Marshall smiled and stepped up to his office. Jason’s pencil flew over the page: The building was originally a mercantile in the early 1900s, then a law firm, the town library, and a bank in the fifties. He’d heard his grandparents talk about the building for years. Marshall and Linda Wilson, store founders. Jason thought this was ridiculous. A plaque with the store mission hung on the wall in front of him and he laughed as he copied it onto the paper. Jason turned the paper over for the tenth question: What is the name of our maintenance supervisor? “What?” Jason said, flipping the paper over to look for more questions. “Whatever.” He scribbled the name Ted down and took the quiz to Marshall.

  Marshall put on his reading glasses and scanned the test. “You remembered everything about the building,” he said. “That’s impressive.” He turned the paper over, glanced at the name for the tenth question, and threw the sheets on his desk. “I’ll be keeping your check.”

  “Why? Because of that last question? I know you don’t do that for regular employees.”

  Marshall flipped open a product catalog on his desk. “You’re not a regular employee.”

  Jason laughed. “Why should I know his name?”

  “Why shouldn’t you?”

  “Okay, obviously I would know his name if I was here longer.”

  Marshall walked to his filing cabinet and stuck the catalog somewhere in the back of it. “Would you? What’s the lady’s name who lugged your suitcase through the store for you?”

  Jason shook his head and laughed. “Denise.”

  “Wrong,” Marshall said. “She has a name. Learn it. Learn who the head of maintenance is.” Marshall handed the quiz to Jason. “You can try again in a few days. I’m headed down to security and I need you to pick up Judy’s car from Patterson’s.”

  “Why is her car there?” Jason asked, annoyed. First he was taking a ridiculous test and then running errands.

  “The woman who gave Judy CPR drove her car there.”

  “Why?”

  Marshall picked up a stack of mail and sifted through it.

  “Because she had the frame of mind to think that Judy probably wouldn’t remember the address of where she was when she had her heart attack. She took the time to be nice!” He ripped up an envelope and threw it away. “Judy said she’s a waitress named Christy. Could you please find her and get some contact information? Judy and Dave want to thank her.” Marshall looked over his glasses, dangling Dave’s keys to Judy’s car in front of him. “Did you catch all that?”

&
nbsp; Jason’s face was vacant. “You mean you want me to go now?”

  “Before someone decides to tow her car.” Jason grabbed his jacket and opened the door with a huff. Marshall picked up the phone and dialed, pressing the receiver to his ear. “Linda? I think Jason just might drive me crazy.”

  Before lunch I pulled a sweatshirt over my head and threw on a pair of jeans. I needed to pick up my last check at Patterson’s. I held Zach’s coat out in front of him.

  “I don’t want to go,” he said.

  “Neither do I,” I said. “But I need to deposit that check.”

  “Why?”

  He continued to play with his plastic action figures and I lifted his arm and put a sleeve of his coat over it. “If I don’t deposit it I’m going to bounce some checks.” I shoved the other sleeve over his arm and he flung the coat off in one quick motion. I was too weary to deal with this kind of stuff. “Put it back on, Zach.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  I held the coat in front of him again. “Zachary, why do you argue with me every step of the way? Put this coat on and get in the car.” He yanked it from me and held it in front of him, determined not to wear it.

  “I’m wearing my coat,” Haley said, watching us.

  I looked up and saw her wearing purple pants shoved down in rain boots, a red princess dress, and a denim jacket with Minnie Mouse embroidered on the front. “Thank you, Haley,” I said, pulling Zach’s coat from him. “It’s too cold to go outside without a coat. Please put it on.” He snatched it from me and slipped his arms into it.

  All the parking spaces were taken in front of Patterson’s so I pulled into one across the street from Wilson’s Department Store. Someone was busy outside the fire station hanging a swag of evergreen from one window to the other. An older woman was decorating the three fir trees in the square, hanging enormous bulbs from the branches. I noticed a woman sitting on a bench in the park and thought it was unusual to just sit on such a cold day. Maybe she was there to help the woman decorate the trees but she wasn’t paying attention to the work being done behind her. It struck me as odd and I sat in my car and watched her, waiting for her to move.