By early afternoon she was exhausted, but still needed to pick up the bags at Wilson’s.
Chaz was called in to work two hours early. There were more and more customers every day, which meant longer hours for employees. He kicked the salt and slush off his shoes and held the door open for an older woman whom he considered to be attractive. She thanked him and made her way to Marshall Wilson at the jewelry counter. “Marshall, I’m here to pick up the hats and gloves for Gloria,” Miriam said.
“She said you were coming and they’re ready to go. Chaz!” Chaz stopped at the top of the stairs and turned toward Mr. Wilson. “We’ve set aside a few bags for Miss Glory in Customer Service. Would you help get those?”
Chaz watched as she walked toward him; she didn’t act like the woman he had pictured in his mind at all. She looked kind of uppity. “Is Donovan at your house?” he asked, leading her to Customer Service.
She made a high-pitched sigh. “Yes! Do you know him?”
Chaz picked up the bags with Miss Glory’s name on them. “He comes in a lot when his mom’s working.”
“He thinks I’m a nutter,” she said. “This morning he told me that my hair looked like a cat had played in it.”
He led her through the store. “That sounds like him.”
“Are you new here?” she said.
He opened the front door for her. “Yeah.”
“I think you’ll love it.” Chaz always hated it when people told him he’d love something. “This is a wonderful place to live. The longer I live here, the more I appreciate it.” He loaded the bags in her trunk and closed the lid. “Thank you so much.” She looked down at his name tag, “Chad.” People always got his name wrong but it didn’t matter.
He walked across the parking lot and noticed the pretty blonde he had seen in Wilson’s driving out of the alley between the law office and the store. She didn’t notice him on the sidewalk, but he stopped and watched as she drove past before clocking in for the day.
Dalton and Heddy loaded the Christmas care packages into the back of their SUV and I shut my trunk. Donovan, Erin, and Miriam loaded into my car and I coordinated again with Dalton about delivering to apartments and homes on our lists before meeting at the church that was located on the downtown square. When the temperature was thirty-five degrees or colder the church staff opened the church basement and spread out cots for the homeless to sleep on. They opened their doors at seven and I wanted to be ready. We pulled up a few minutes before seven and I handed a bag of packages to Erin and Donovan and waited for Miriam. “I’ll just wait here,” she said, leaning over the backseat, yelling.
I walked to the rear passenger door, holding a bag. “It’s too cold to wait out here.”
“Just leave the keys,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Come on! I need help carrying these bags.”
She leaned farther over the seat. “Really, Gloria, I’ve been doing this all day and I’m not cut out for it.”
I was losing patience. “Cut out for what?” I said. “Helping people?” Miriam didn’t budge. “Move! I’m freezing out here.” Miriam scurried out of the backseat and I handed her a bag. “The red packages are for women and the green ones for men.” I noticed a woman sitting on a bench in the town square. “Oh, there’s Janet. She won’t come in till late tonight. She doesn’t like to be around people. Take a package over to her and I’ll meet you inside.”
Miriam snapped her head up to see Janet. “I don’t want to go over there and give something to a woman who doesn’t like to be around people.”
I closed the trunk. “Around lots of people. She’ll do fine with you.” I made a shooing motion with my hand and Miriam stood still, watching Janet. “Be sure you say Merry Christmas, too,” I said, screaming over my shoulder.
Miriam growled and stepped into the road. Her foot plunged into a puddle resembling a dirty, gray Slurpee and she shook her head, moaning. “I hate helping people.” She shook her foot off and walked across the street. Janet stood up and began walking through the square. Miriam hurried before Janet got away, calling out, “Yoo-hoo. Hello there,” as she ran after her.
Janet turned and Miriam waved the package in the air. “For you.” Janet took the box but didn’t say anything. “Some things…from Gloria…I mean Miss Glory…for you.” Miriam stopped, aware of how awkward she sounded. “And happy Christmas.” Miriam looked up and saw Chaz watching her from the entrance of Wilson’s. She shrugged her shoulders and heaved the bag onto her hip, heading for the church.
Carla awoke at seven that evening. She was sore and groaned as she sat on the edge of the bed, and tears filled her eyes. There was no way out. She couldn’t call the police and report Thomas; if she did she ran the risk of DFS discovering he was abusive and putting Donovan into a foster home again. She just had to figure out a way to keep Donovan away from Thomas until she could think of a way to get rid of him once and for all. She stood up and the pain in her ribs took her breath away, making her fall back onto the bed.
She cracked open the bedroom door and listened to hear whether Thomas was in the apartment. She inched her way to the front door and made sure the dead bolt and the chain lock were both secured, and then stepped into the shower. Her mother’s voice rang through her head. She had attracted losers her whole life. The only male who had been faithful and who really loved her was Donovan, and she was at risk of losing him.
At eight o’clock she opened the front door and ran into Thomas. He pulled her close to him and she screamed in pain.
“Get back inside,” he said, gripping her arm.
She felt panic swell in her chest, but she ripped her arm away. “I have to pick up Donovan and take him to another sitter before work.”
“To hell with the kid,” Thomas said. “He’s fine.” He’d been drinking; she tasted it when he pressed his mouth over hers and she winced as he held her.
She pushed away and stumbled to the parking lot.
At nine o’clock Chaz slipped into the security office and dialed information for the number of the state police in Kentucky, a state he picked at random just because Mike had a southern accent. He didn’t know who to talk to, but thought someone might be able to go through missing person files or something to see if any of them were Mike. He was transferred twice, and then ended up with someone’s voice mail. “It’s stupid to call so late at night,” he said out loud, and hung up the phone.
Donovan ran into the office and leaped for Chaz’s neck. Carla stood in the doorway and Chaz waved. She slinked out the door and he opened his bag for Donovan to pick the sandwich he’d want to eat.
“Hey,” Chaz said. “I met your friend Miss Glory today.”
“I stayed at her house.”
“I know. She seems nice.”
“She is nice,” Donovan said. “Mom said I need to know her address just in case I get lost or something, so I remembered 814 Maple and got two things of SweeTarts for it.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Chaz said.
“We made cookies and she gave me some to bring to you, but I ate ’em all.”
“Thanks! She said you told her it looked like a cat played in her hair.”
Donovan chomped down on the sandwich. “I didn’t say that to her. I said that to the other lady.”
“She thought you said it to her,” Chaz said. “That’s pretty funny, though.”
Donovan laughed at himself, and bits of sandwich blew out of his mouth. Chaz jumped and pretended to be grossed out, which made Donovan laugh even harder. Chaz’s night always seemed to go faster when Donovan was around.
Erin pushed my door open at midnight. “Gloria! I think my water just broke.”
My feet hit the floor and Whiskers bolted out the door. “Get in the car!” I groped for the light and pulled a sweatshirt that was lying on the end of the bed over my nightshirt. “Get dressed first, then get in the car. I shouldn’t have let you help deliver those packages. It was too much for you.” I pulled a pair of swea
tpants from a drawer, and paused when I realized they in no way matched my shirt. “Where’re my keys?” I pulled on the sweatpants and dug through the pockets before screaming, “Your keys are in your purse, you idiot!” I ran into the hall and grabbed Erin’s arm. “It’s early.”
“I know it’s early,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“I mean the baby. The baby’s early.” Miriam squinted up the stairs as I led Erin down. “She’s having the baby. She’s having the baby!” Miriam turned in circles and felt up and down her body. I waved my arm, yelling, “It’s your gown! You’re wearing your gown.” I realized I was saying everything twice but couldn’t think long enough to fix the problem. “Go get your robe. Put on your robe,” I said as Miriam tore off down the hall.
Erin groaned and I screamed when she did. “Oh, it hurts!” she said.
“I’d tell you it was going to feel better, but I’d be lying.” She groaned louder and I yelled over the top of her head. “Miriam!” Erin bent over, holding her belly, and I shouted louder. “Miriam!”
“Where are my green wellies?” Miriam said, running into the living room.
“Where are your what?” I asked, helping Erin into her boots.
“My wellies! My green wellies!” She was spinning, looking around her.
“Would you just talk like a normal person?” I screamed.
“My rubber boots,” Miriam said. She hiked up her robe and pulled on the green rubber boots. “How could she be having the baby?” she said wild-eyed. “It’s early.”
“We’ve already been through all that,” I said, putting Erin’s coat on her.
“I can’t go out in public like this,” Miriam said. “It’s not Halloween.”
I held Erin’s arm and ushered her through the front door. “Shut up, Miriam!”
“What did you say?”
“She said shut up,” Erin said, taking the steps with her legs wide apart. Miriam cinched her robe tight and ran beside us. I opened the passenger-side door and Erin dipped down to get inside.
“Don’t put her in the front,” Miriam said, lifting Erin’s arm.
“She’s the one having the baby,” I said, pushing her back down. “She deserves to be in front!” Erin sat and lifted her legs inside.
“What about the air bags?” Miriam said, waving her arms as if being struck in an accident.
I pulled Erin’s arm. “Get in the back.” We helped Erin into the backseat and I searched around for my keys. “Where are the keys?” Miriam twisted in all directions, searching the driveway. “Where’d they go? I just had them!”
Miriam turned and shrieked, “They’re in your hand!”
I screamed when I saw them. “Oh, you idiot, Gloria!” I was clearly no good in a crisis.
Miriam ran to the passenger side. “Turn left out of the driveway, because Baxter is closed.” I turned right and Miriam jumped. “What are you doing? I just told you to turn left.”
“You never told me to turn left!” I spun the car around and Miriam toppled into me.
“I most certainly did,” Miriam shouted. “Didn’t I, Erin?”
Erin groaned and threw her head back against the seat. “I don’t care! Drive faster!”
I pushed the pedal while groping for my seat belt. “Everybody buckle up!” I turned to look at Erin. “You need a seat belt.”
“I can’t,” she said.
“Miriam! Buckle her seat belt.”
Miriam unsnapped her belt and it whizzed back into place. She crawled over the back of the seat and reached for Erin’s. “My robe is caught,” she said. She yanked on her robe, trying to free it. I felt through the folds of fabric and Miriam smacked my hand away. “Are you some sort of masher?!”
“It’s in the door!” I said, turning onto Post Avenue.
Miriam opened her door ajar, tugged on the robe, then closed the door again. She crawled over the back of the seat and wrapped Erin’s seat belt around her, snapping it in. She locked her own belt into place and looked up in time to scream as I raced in front of a delivery truck when I turned onto Grand.
Miriam held her stomach. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Be quiet, Miriam,” I said, bearing down on the wheel. She crossed her arms in a huff.
I swung into the front entrance of the hospital and threw the car into park. We lifted Erin from the backseat and threw an arm over each of our shoulders, running for the door. “We’re having a baby!” we shouted.
“She’s having the baby,” I said as a woman in scrubs ran toward us with a wheelchair.
The woman helped Erin into the chair. “And you’re the grandmothers! Will you be joining her in Delivery?”
Our answer rang throughout the hall as the nurse wheeled Erin to the elevator. “No!”
“Yes!” Erin shouted over them as the doors closed in front of her.
I rummaged through my purse, pulling out the contents in massive handfuls. “What are you doing?” Miriam asked. I was annoyed, and continued to dig to the bottom, retrieving several battered cough drops, nasal spray, and some tattered coupons. “Is there a reason for such behavior?” Surely, I hadn’t left what I was looking for at home. I would be so angry with myself if I’d done something so stupid. In desperation I emptied the entire purse onto the floor and poked through the pile.
“Ah ha!” I said, holding a piece of paper in the air.
At twelve thirty Chaz found Carla cleaning up around Santa’s workshop. She looked worse than she had the previous night. “He’s sleeping,” Chaz said over the vacuum. She nodded but wouldn’t turn off the vacuum. Whatever was bothering her, she planned to keep it to herself, so he walked away.
“Could Donovan go home with you tonight?”
He turned to look at her. “Why?”
“Because I’m sick,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
She held up her hands in a stopping motion. “I’m too sick to care for him right now. I just need someone to watch him tonight. That’s it.” She waved him off and clicked the vacuum back on.
He grabbed her arm, turning off the vacuum. “Wait a second!” he said. “Do I just keep him all day tomorrow, or do you come and—”
“I’ll pick him up tomorrow. I just need to keep him out of the apartment tonight.” She seemed panicked, but her voice grew calm. “I don’t want him to get sick. If I’m not feeling better tomorrow, I’ll take him to Miss Glory’s.”
Chaz agreed to let Donovan stay, but couldn’t imagine what he’d agreed to; he’d never even taken care of a cat before.
At the end of his shift, Chaz carried Donovan into his apartment and laid him down on the futon. He rubbed his eyes in the glow of the Christmas lights from across the street, and Chaz tried to turn his face away from the window. “Am I at your house?” Donovan asked.
“Yes,” Chaz said, whispering.
“You don’t have any furniture.”
“I know.” Chaz closed Donovan’s eyes and Donovan flung an arm over his leg. Chaz tried to get up; he needed to get to the refrigerator.
“Lie down,” Donovan said, half asleep.
Chaz moved Donovan’s hand and pulled off his shoes. “I’ll be right back.”
“It’s time for everybody to be asleep,” Donovan said. “Even I know that.” Chaz sat down on the futon, hoping Donovan would drift off again. Donovan put his hand in Chaz’s and pulled it toward him. “Lie down and go to sleep.” Chaz lay down next to Donovan and waited for him to fall asleep. Donovan put his hand on top of Chaz’s chest and patted it. “I love you, Spaz.”
Chaz didn’t respond; he couldn’t. When he was confident that Donovan was asleep he moved his hand and slid off the futon, onto the floor, and buried his head in his hands. Tears fell into his palms, and he rubbed his coat sleeve over his face. He’d once heard his mother tell a friend that the drought was always worst right before the rain. He’d been living in droughtlike conditions for years because his life had dried up ages ago; there wasn’t anything life-giving
in him. He’d had so many plans and visions when he was a child, but they were gone now. When he’d dreamed as a boy, he never envisioned himself eking out a living and either losing or drinking away what money he made. He stopped planning and dreaming a long time ago because all he could see was the gaping wound of his life, which hit him square in the face day after day. Maybe that’s what the truth does, it beats the living hell out of us until we do something about it. For years he shoved the truth aside, choosing to deal with the pain any way that he could, but he couldn’t deal with it any longer.
Let it rain, he said into his hands. Please let it rain.
Nine
The black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light.
—Joseph Campbell
Carla knocked on Miss Glory’s door but no one was home. She waited in the driveway with Donovan, but after an hour she pulled away and drove to her apartment. Thomas’s car was still there, so she backed away before he could see her. “What are you doing?” Donovan asked.
“Going back to wait at Miss Glory’s,” she said. “You need to stay with her today.”
“Why? I liked staying with Spaz.”
She turned to him and her eyes blazed. “Don’t fight with me today.”
Miriam and I pressed our noses to the nursery window and smiled. Erin’s mother, Lois, arrived an hour after I called. She was there for the birth of her first grandson and held Erin’s hand throughout the delivery. Miriam and I bowed out of the room when Lois arrived and paced in the waiting room together, sipping bad coffee and watching horrible TV. When the doctor told us the news at eight o’clock that morning we cheered and hugged his neck as any grandmother would do, and fought to be the first to hold little Gabriel when we saw him with Erin. I won.
Donovan ran for the car when I pulled into the driveway. “Señorita Cuckoo!”
The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope) Page 9