“He was always a good guy.”
Basil laughed.
“No, really, he was. And getting into this church thing... well, he’s even better than before.”
“I don’t even hear sarcasm.”
“Because it’s not.” Dixie sighed. “You say he’s too good for me, but it’s true. Not because he looks down on me, but because he’s just that amazing.”
“And here I thought we were going out for coffee—” he air-quoted the word “—as a possible prelude for more interesting activities. But you’re here to tell me how terrific your ex is? I should’ve stayed and had Tony’s struffoli and Adriana’s sugar cookies in the church basement. At least then I’d have known I wasn’t picking anyone up.”
“You’re rude.”
“Now that’s the pot calling the kettle black.” His dark eyes narrowed on hers. “What do you want from me, Dixie? A fling? Something more? Or just a cup of insipid brewed herbs?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again as the waitress deposited cheesecake in front of each of them followed by their drinks. “I thought you could explain the attraction of the whole faith thing.”
“Are you kidding me?” Basil forked in a bite of cheesecake. “You do remember you’re talking to the black sheep of the family, right? The one who walked away?”
“I know who you are, Basil Santoro. And I also see you back in Bridgeview for Christmas with your family, even coming to a church program because your nephews were in it, so I don’t think you’re as immune as you pretend. What’s the secret?”
He shook his head and ate half his cheesecake.
Dixie picked at hers. It was good, sweet and creamy, but her mouth seemed to turn everything sour. Words. Food.
“Dix, why not ask Dan this question? He’s obviously found something in religion that neither you nor I have.”
“I can’t talk to him. He... he’s cut me off. He filed for custody.”
Basil’s eyebrows shot up. “Of Henry?”
“Of all three.”
“But he’s not — that’s crazy.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But he’s a great father, and he loves the kids.” Dixie mashed a bite of cheesecake against the edge of the plate. “Whereas I’m a terrible mother, and I have no idea how to show love.”
Basil held up both hands. “Dix, you’re way above my pay grade here. You want to know why people are attracted to religion? I guess some find peace and satisfaction. Some find belonging. I have no idea.”
“If you had peace and satisfaction and belonging, how could you turn your back on it? You have a great family, unlike me. My mom’s a piece of work, and yours is a dream.”
“There’s only so much peace some of us can handle before we feel strangled. Belonging to the Santoro family can kill a guy with claustrophobia. I’m not sure how else to describe it.”
At least he was giving her a somewhat thoughtful answer. It was more than she’d expected. She sipped her tea. “I don’t get it.”
“Neither does anyone else.”
“All I can think is someone broke your heart.”
His eyebrows shot up.
“No, really. A woman, most likely.” Dixie studied him. “Or maybe God.”
“You’re talking about Him as though He’s real.”
“Isn’t He?”
“You’re totally talking to the wrong person here. I’ve got nothing for you, Dix. I don’t have answers, and I don’t have a fling in me for someone asking those kinds of questions. Talk to Ranta.”
“I’ve been getting some counseling from Juanita Ramirez.”
“Pastor Tomas’s wife?” Basil flung both hands in the air. “See? You don’t need me for anything.”
“She thinks...” Dixie paused. “She thinks I need Jesus.”
“Well, of course, she thinks that. She’s paid to. Sheesh, Dix, use your brain.”
“I’ve been thinking for myself for twenty-five years, and look where that got me. I’ve been doing a really lousy job. I barely got my high school diploma. I’ve birthed three kids by three different men. I’ve been stone drunk more times than I can count. My best job has been barmaid, and even that isn’t so great lately because I can’t handle the advances of the regulars in there anymore.” She leaned on the table and stared into Basil’s eyes. “Tell me where in that I’ve proved I can chart my own course.”
Basil rocked his chair back onto two legs, cup of coffee in one hand. He shook his head. “Hard to argue with that litany.”
“So, it seems God could hardly do a worse job of running my life than I’m doing on my own.”
“You’ve got me there.”
“So, I should give God a chance? What do I have to do?”
“Jeepers, Dix. Ask someone else!”
“I’m asking you.”
“Right, well, the pat answer is you pray and ask God to forgive your sins. You know, all the bad stuff you’ve done. And then you’re a happy jolly Christian and your life is just peachy perfect from then on and forevermore.”
“That simple?”
“That’s what they say.” The front legs of Basil’s chair thudded against the floor again. “But how would I know? I was the little kid who bought in, hook, line, and sinker. And it wasn’t enough for me. Seems to work for lots of people, though.”
“Really? Just pray and say sorry?”
“Yup. And if you believe your life will be smooth and perfect after that, you’re more naive than I’d give you credit for.”
Dixie thought that through. “It didn’t work that way for Dan. I think his life is harder than before.”
“See?”
“But part of that’s my fault. If I’d just given in sooner, we’d be good.”
“So, say your prayers and go crawling back to Ranta.” Basil pushed back his chair and rose to his feet. “And this religious and relationship advice is free. You’re getting what you paid for, don’t forget. I’ll pick up the tab for dessert on my way out.”
She watched him stride away. He dropped a twenty at the till, waved away the change, and marched out to his car. Though she couldn’t see him, she imagined him angrily giving the ignition interlock device a breathalyzer test before the headlights came on. His car peeled out of the lot, sliding a little on the icy corner.
Basil’s answers lined up with Juanita’s. With Dan’s. With the little bit of Bible she’d read.
Dixie took another sip of her tea. Was that all it took, then? Just a little prayer? She couldn’t do this to impress Dan and get her kids back. If God was everything they said He was, He’d see through it, and she’d have done another sin she’d need to repent from.
It was almost enough to make her not even want to try, because she was pretty sure she’d never be able to be perfect. In no time flat she’d be back at square one. But, wasn’t that true of Dan, too? He’d lost his temper a few times since he’d found Jesus. For all she’d told Basil Dan was practically perfect, she knew he wasn’t. Not quite. And Juanita had told Dixie some things she’d done that weren’t all that great since she’d believed. So, they just prayed — again — and God forgave them — again — and it was all okay?
Yeah, she needed to talk to Juanita some more, but it was Christmas week, and they didn’t have anything scheduled until afterward since Dan’s attorney had accepted the delay.
Maybe she could try reading the Bible. Because she really wanted to get to the reality in that part Linnea had told her about.
‘Let’s prepare a great feast and celebrate. For this beloved son of mine was once dead, but now he’s alive again. Once he was lost, but now he is found!’ And everyone celebrated with overflowing joy.
She wanted that kind of party.
“You can’t keep my grandchildren away from me at Christmas!” Eunice blustered over the phone.
Dan rubbed his forehead. Where had she been for the past month? She hadn’t called once. “You’ll have to talk to my attorney. She’ll be in the office again on the twenty-seventh.”
>
“But that’s—”
“After Christmas. I know.” Not his fault she’d waited until the twenty-third to make a stink. He turned away from the blissfully domestic scene in the living room where the two older kids decorated race car coloring sheets he’d printed from online. Buddy’s was covered in bold red and blue strokes, while Mandy’s pink-and-purple creation sparkled from her glitter gel pens.
“Dan, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”
“Prove?” The word exploded out before he could stop it. The nerve of the woman. “I’m trying to provide stability for three small kids. It’s not about Dixie. It’s not about me. It’s about the children.”
“Pshaw. They’re not even your kids. Probably Henry isn’t, either.”
He’d had a qualm or two back then, for sure, and he’d do the paternity test if the courts required it. But how could there be any doubt, really? The toddler was created in Dan’s image.
“Eunice, I appreciate that you care for the children—” wasn’t that a laugh? “—but I have to ask you not to call again. The situation is in the hands of the courts, and their decision will be final. If you have anything to add to the debate, you will need to present it to Ms. Guthrie at Dawson and Banks.”
“But, Dan—!”
“Goodbye, Eunice.” He tapped the button to end the call and took a deep breath, a cleansing breath, before turning back to the room.
Tony sat beside Buddy with a coloring sheet of his own, matching the little boy’s bold colors while remaining in the lines. He looked up and raised his eyebrows at Dan.
Mandy arranged her glitter pens in a neat row as she cast furtive glances at Dan.
Thankfully, the baby was asleep.
He swallowed his frustration as best he could and crossed the space, kneeling beside her chair. “That’s a beautiful car, Mandy. So... sparkly.”
She scowled at him. “I want Grandma.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I want Mama.” Her lip turned down in a full pout as she crossed her arms over her chest and slumped in her chair.
“Me, too, baby.” He reached for her, but she jerked her shoulder to come between them. His hand dropped along with his heart.
“Then where is she? And why do you use big words to make her stay away?”
Buddy dropped his crayon and stared between them. Tony took a deep breath and kept coloring, gaze on his paper, lip between his teeth.
Lord? I could use some help here.
“I know it’s hard, baby. Your mama is going through some stuff. We need to pray for her, okay?”
“But I need her.”
Dan nodded.
Buddy slipped off his chair, rounded the table, and wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck. Dan held the little boy tight.
Was he really doing the right thing? Was it better for Mandy to have her mom as an erratic presence in her life... or not to have her at all? Even as he wavered, he remembered Dixie locking her daughter in an empty house. He remembered Mandy’s terror that had lingered for weeks. The nightmares.
No, he had to follow through. Mandy was not quite six. She couldn’t understand the long-term repercussions of Dixie’s issues.
It had been seven months since Dan had first believed. He’d been so hopeful. He’d envisioned coming home and leading Dixie to Jesus the same day. Then he’d been sure it would only be a matter of time. Yeah, seven months wasn’t eternity, but it felt like it. It was a solid third of their toddler’s life.
Slowly, reluctantly, he’d come to realize it might never happen. That Dixie might choose to remain mired in her old life and never join him in the new one. If she’d only stayed responsible, engaged with the kids, he’d be happy to co-parent with her. Well, not happy exactly, but he’d deal with it. Lots of couples managed to provide a decent upbringing for their kids even when they separated.
They were at an impasse. He could give up his faith and invite Dixie back into their home, into his bed. He could call Jesus a failed experiment and claim Dixie back from Basil.
But he couldn’t. Not when he’d received life itself. Peace, even in the midst of storms. A hope and a promise to see him through the darkest night. The blackout seemed complete. No hint of dawn brought even the faintest glow to the horizon, but the promise of Jesus was still present. I’ll never leave you nor forsake you.
A tear trickled down Mandy’s cheek.
This time when Dan reached for her, she tumbled into his arms. He rocked back with the impact and cradled both kids tight against his chest.
18
“This is the worst Christmas of my life!” Dixie glared at her mother. So much for a lovely — or at least peaceful — interlude in her ugly life. The holiday was supposed to be for family, but Dan’s lawyer wouldn’t let her see the kids, and her mother had a new flavor-of-the-month.
They were all over each other. It wasn’t even amusing. Mom stood in the doorway, the guy’s arms groping around her from behind while he nuzzled her neck. He couldn’t be much older than Dixie. Ugh.
“Then go home to your empty apartment. You’re just a loser, anyway.”
Didn’t she know it? No matter how much she tried to dodge the knowledge, it slammed her at every turn. Dixie pivoted, grabbed her purse and jacket, and stomped into the corridor of Mom’s apartment building. The door snapped shut behind her. The deadbolt clacked.
In the lobby, Dixie shrugged on her faux fur coat and stared out at the softly falling snow. If Dan wasn’t out plowing, he would be soon. Maybe he’d have the kids outside building a snowman or something. She could drive by the house and see.
She wasn’t supposed to, according to the legal letter. But wasn’t there such a thing as innocent until proven guilty? Just because Dan had a temporary injunction until the court appearance didn’t mean anything.
Okay, it did. If she got caught stalking the house, it could close the case against her. But she had to see the kids. Were they safe? Happy? Had they already forgotten her?
Dixie inched down the icy street to the bottom of the hill and turned left onto Water Street. One drive-by. That would have to be enough. She slowed as the small two-story house came into view, nestled between its neighbors. Dan’s truck was parked outside beside a nondescript black car. His sister’s? The main windows were at the back of the house. There was nothing to see here.
She turned the corner at the end of the block then turned east again on the next street up. The route took her out of the neighborhood past Bridgeview Bakery and Bistro. Closed for Christmas Day, of course, not that she’d go in even it wasn’t. The owner, Hailey North, despised Dixie as much as Dixie scorned her. The woman was after anything with a Y chromosome.
On a whim, she turned up the next street, a short one that ended in the church parking lot. She stared at the building for a few minutes. A couple of inches of untouched snow covered the lot and the front steps, proving no one had been by. And why would they? Even Juanita and Tomas had a family to spend Christmas with. Everyone did but her.
Dixie rested her forehead on the steering wheel as tears burned her eyes. Was she destined to spend the rest of her life alone? Dan said he loved her, but it wasn’t enough. Not for him. Not for her. Her mother was supposed to love her, but that was a joke, wasn’t it?
Tanisha and Billie said a mother’s love was the most important. If Dixie was this wrecked at her mother’s selfishness, she had to believe her own actions were doing the same thing to her own kids. Was it an unbreakable cycle? Or did she have a choice?
Had the prodigal son had a choice? He’d made one, even though he wasn’t sure how it would end. He’d taken a chance and put his future in his father’s hands. He’d expected, at best, to become a servant. He hadn’t expected the party.
‘This beloved son of mine was once dead, but now he’s alive again. Once he was lost, but now he is found!’ And everyone celebrated with overflowing joy.
Dixie felt dead. Lost. She fumbled in her purse for a tissue to stem the tide.
A tap on her window sent her scrambling, heart pounding. Who? What? Her pulse calmed when she recognized Juanita through the steamed-up window. She pressed the button to lower the glass.
“Are you all right, sweetie?” Juanita’s coat was wrapped around her tiny frame, but not done up. Her hair had gathered a few snowflakes, but underneath it, her eyes were tender and her smile genuine.
“Yes.” Dixie hiccuped. “No.”
Juanita pointed over her shoulder at the church. “Want to come in for a cup of tea?”
“I — you have your family. Don’t worry about me.”
“Tomas is capable of clearing the table. Have you eaten?”
Dixie remembered the take-out turkey dinner her mom had ordered. “Yeah.”
“You sure? We have lots of leftovers.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Tea, then?” Juanita held up a plastic-film-covered plate. “I grabbed some cookies on my way out the door.”
Dixie glanced across the parking lot, following the trail of footsteps to a row of houses over on Cedar. “You can’t give up your Christmas Day for a loser like me.” The pastor’s wife must have seen her car from the window and come over. Who would do that?
“Come on. Let’s talk.” Juanita tugged open the car door.
Dixie pressed the button to slide the window up, turned off the ignition, and followed the pastor’s wife to the church’s side door.
Juanita flipped on a few light switches before filling and plugging in the kettle. “Chamomile?”
Standing uncertainly in the middle of the reception area, Dixie nodded.
“Tell me about your day, sweetie.”
“I miss my kids,” she whispered. “And I want things to change.”
“What kinds of things?”
She took a deep breath. “I guess it has to start with me. I don’t want to be a loser anymore. My mom always made sure I knew I didn’t measure up, and I guess I proved her right. But I don’t want to be that person anymore. Can someone really change?”
“Let me tell you about Jesus. That’s what He does. He takes people who are at the end of themselves and gives them a new purpose. He makes them into something new.”
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