Along Came December

by Jay Allisan

“So she said no?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, she said no.”

  Max chewed his lip. “And the others?”

  I didn’t answer. Max took me by the shoulders, searching my face urgently. “Shirley? What did everyone else say?”

  I let out a sigh, and Max deflated like a balloon. He pulled me into a crushing hug. “Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry. You worked so hard.”

  “I know,” I said, my voice muffled against his shoulder. “Everyone else thought so too. Shapiro was outvoted.”

  Max pushed back to arm’s length and stared at me. “She what?”

  “She was outvoted,” I said again. “Six to one. I’ll be swearing in next week.”

  Max stared at me, his mouth agape, and I grinned at him. His face lit up like a burst of sunshine and he lifted me off my feet. “You did it! Oh Shirley, I knew you could do it! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you!”

  “I deduced as much.” I planted a kiss on his lips. “I think I’ll be good at this job.”

  Max set me down, his jubilant smile going watery. I frowned. “Max? Are you okay?”

  He swiped at his eyes with a laugh. “Yeah. Yeah I am, it’s just…” He took my hand. “Come on. There’s someone you need to thank.”

  HE LED me to the office, our office. Paddy was at his desk, typing steadily. He didn’t turn as we came through the door.

  “You get it?” he asked disinterestedly. “Or’d they kick you out on your ass?”

  I lingered in the doorway without answering. I hadn’t seen him since Kristoph’s funeral. We hadn’t spoken since the day Kris died. And now here he was, pretending he gave a shit about my police career.

  Max nudged me forward. When I didn’t move he gave me a little push. I shot him a glare, but eased into the seat on Paddy’s right. At least it wasn’t Kristoph’s chair.

  I spent a few moments picking at my nails. Paddy kept typing without so much as a glance. Finally I mumbled, “They said I’m fit for duty. My first day is next week.”

  The keyboard fell silent. Paddy rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Good. Took fucking forever to type that letter.”

  I looked at Max. “What letter? I didn’t know about—”

  “Character references,” Max explained. “I couldn’t give one since we’re dating, but Paddy wrote—”

  “It was just a letter, all right?” Paddy groused. “Don’t get all girly about it.”

  “It was important,” Max insisted. “It counted for a lot. And you were the one that found…”

  “Found what?” I asked. Max bit his lip. Paddy’s face had gone dark and stony. I asked again, this time with care. “Found what?”

  Paddy’s eyes cut to the left, to his partner’s vacant seat. He watched it for a lifetime.

  “I was clearing out Kris’s desk,” he said at last, “and I found his letter, the one he wrote for you. He’d had it ready for a while. He felt for you.”

  I flinched. “He felt sorry for me?”

  “Not sorry. Empathy or whatever. He wanted you to get your shot. Even offered to train you.”

  “He did?”

  Paddy managed a half-grin. “Would’ve been temporary, of course. We were good together.”

  My eyes were misting over. “Thank you. Both of you.”

  “Fuck, what did I say about girly, huh? Either quit crying or get outta here. I got work to do.”

  “I’ll cry if I want to,” I said stubbornly.

  “Not if you’re working with me you won’t. And don’t look so surprised,” he said, making a face. “Did you think you’d be partnered with Max? The guy’s a sucker when it comes to you.”

  “I’m standing right here!” Max protested.

  Paddy glared at him. “You’re a sucker, Max.”

  Max sighed.

  “What about the new detectives?” I asked. “I could train with one of them.”

  “Look, they seem like nice people and all, but we don’t know much about them and Dixon wants you trained right.”

  “Dixon wants me trained right?”

  “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

  A smile itched across my face, but I squashed it before Paddy could see. I gestured at his computer. “You, uh, you need help with that? Is there something I can do?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Can you type?”

  “Faster than you.”

  “That’s nothing special.” His mouth turned down. “I’m compiling loose ends from the Garrison case. Shapiro wants the file closed by the end of the month, but there’s still a lot that doesn’t add up.”

  “Like how none of the other victims knew Emerson?” I asked. “Or how two South American guys with false passports got involved in the first place?”

  “Stinks like a coverup,” Paddy agreed. He tapped a notebook on his desk. “You wanna type up these notes? I could use a smoke.”

  “No problem.” I rolled my chair in front of his computer as he moved out of the way. “Bring me a snack if you’re getting food.”

  “I look like a stewardess to you?”

  “Chips or candy. I’m good with either.”

  “Yeah, I bet you are. Come on, Max. Let’s take a walk. And Shirley?” I glanced up. Paddy’s eyes were piercing. “Don’t fuck up.”

  I nodded. Then I went to work.

  19

  2007

  March

  “SO I leave her in the trunk and I make like I’m walking away, right? Told her all she’s gotta do is slip the cuffs, bust out, and she’s home free. ‘Course, what I meant was pull the internal release hatch like they teach you at the academy, or even crawl out the backseat, but you know what she does instead? Do you remember?”

  Whale smiled, sending me an amused glance. “I seem to recall something about a taillight.”

  Paddy swallowed another swig of beer and leaned forward, his face colored with animation. He propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Well, I’m waiting, and waiting, and it’s taking fucking forever. I’m just about ready to let her out when her goddamn foot comes through my taillight, and then I see her cell phone sticking out the hole for reception so she can call Max!”

  The table erupted into laughter as I said sourly, “It was dark in there, and I couldn’t find the release hatch.”

  “You shoulda tried harder.”

  “You should have taken my cell phone. You’re lucky I didn’t call 911.”

  Paddy shook his head but he was grinning at me. “Christ, I was so pissed. And you should’ve seen Max come tearing up, thinking Shirley’s been kidnapped on her first day. Dixon must’ve skipped the trunk bit with him.”

  “I took him for coffee,” said Dixon, smiling lightly. “After the night you and Kristoph gave him he was a little worse for wear.”

  “Ooh, tell us that one!” Josie said eagerly, bouncing forward on her seat. “I want to hear about Max gone wild.”

  “Yeah, Paddy, tell us that one,” I echoed. “Max still won’t say a word.”

  Paddy smirked. “Sorry, ladies. Male bonding. You know how it is.”

  “Oh, whatever.” Josie rolled her eyes.

  I cast another look around the half-filled bar, twisting to stare at the door. “Where is Max, anyway? He’s never this late.”

  Paddy finished his beer and signaled the waitress for another. “He’s coming. He just had to make a stop.”

  “Why?”

  Paddy shrugged.

  “What kind of stop?” I pressed. “And why’d he have to do it now?”

  “He just had to make a stop, Shirley. He’ll get here when he gets here.”

  “But why would he have to make a stop? He’s got someplace better to be on the night I—”

  “He stopped to buy you flowers, all right? Way to ruin the surprise.”

  “Oh,” I said, a little foolishly. “I probably should have seen that coming.”

  Paddy raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure you’re ready for this? Maybe you should give it back.”

  “No way, no how. Yo
u’ll have to pry it out of my cold, dead—”

  “And on that cheerful note,” Josie said, raising her glass, “I’d like to propose a toast. To Detective Kelly: may your shield be a symbol of truth and justice, and may it never accidentally go through the washing machine.”

  I grinned. “Always check my pockets?”

  “Words to live by,” she said with a wink.

  “You’ve worked hard, Shirley,” said Dixon. “After two years of training there’s no question you’ve earned this. I’m very proud of you. Well done.”

  Paddy stretched his arm across the back of the booth. “Yeah, I guess you did okay,” he said, and Whale added, “Though the student is only ever as good as the teacher.”

  Paddy narrowed his eyes. “You got something to say about my teaching skills?”

  Whale raised his mug like a white flag. “I think the results speak for themselves. To Shirley.”

  “To Shirley!”

  “To me,” I said, clinking glasses. “And to everyone who got me here. Even Max, who’s apparently decided—”

  “Give him a break, all right?” Paddy said irritably. “He’s trying to do something nice.” Paddy’s mouth twisted into a smile as he nodded over my shoulder. “And I think maybe once you see what he’s got for you, you’ll forgive him.”

  I spun in my seat, braced for a bouquet I’d have to keep in the bathtub. “Max! What took… what’s with the suit? Are you okay? You look awful.”

  He walked slowly toward us, dressed to the nines, empty arms stiff at his sides, his face pale and sheened with sweat. I slipped free of the booth and ran to meet him.

  I put my hand against his forehead. “Are you sick? Why didn’t you call?”

  He pulled my hand away from his face and clutched it tightly. “Shirley…”

  “You should have called me. You didn’t have to come if you weren’t feeling well, and you definitely didn’t have to get so dressed up—”

  “Shirley.”

  I reached for him again but he stepped back. I watched him worriedly. “Max?”

  He sank down to one knee.

  I went speechless.

  So did he.

  He squeezed my hand hard, swallowing again and again. I could feel the thrum of his pulse in his fingertips.

  “Max?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I threw up,” he confessed, wincing as soon as the words were out. “I mean… I didn’t mean to tell you that. Oh God, I’m doing this all wrong.”

  “You got the first part right,” I said breathlessly.

  He managed a smile, though his cheeks were red with shame. “I practiced this,” he whispered. “I wrote it down, and I practiced, but I just…”

  He caught his lip between his teeth, his gaze sliding away. I knelt in front of him, blinking fast to keep my sight from blurring. He glanced up. I smiled, and the tears spilled over. “Just ask.”

  He nodded, reaching into his pocket. “Shirley.” His voice cracked. He drew in a shaky breath and tried again. “Shirley.”

  I gripped his hand like an anchor, like I’d float away if I let go.

  Max looked at me, his eyes deep and warm and so full of hope. “Shirley, I love you, and I want to be with you forever. Will you please…” He held out his hand, starlight gleaming from his palm. “Will you marry me?”

  I couldn’t say it fast enough. “Yes,” I whispered, my chest hitching painfully. “Yes I will marry you. Of course I will marry you.”

  “Can I…?”

  Gently he fit the ring onto my finger, and for a second I stared in silence. Then I was sobbing, throwing my arms around his neck, and Max was holding me like he’d never let go.

  I never wanted him to let go.

  Max stroked my cheek softly. “Are you okay? I’m sorry, I really did plan it better than—”

  “It was perfect,” I murmured. “You were perfect. Just tell me you brushed your teeth.”

  He blinked, then grimaced. “Oh. Yeah, I did.”

  “Good.”

  I kissed him senseless.

  A sharp wolf whistle split the air. “You gonna bring that party over here,” Paddy called, “or do you two need a room?”

  Max brightened. “The champagne! I ordered it in advance, and there’s a cake from that bakery you like. Oh good, here it comes now.”

  I looked just as a chocolate cake was laid in front of our teammates, every one of them grinning like idiots. I flashed my new jewelry to a round of applause before turning back to Max. “Did they know about this?”

  “No,” he said quickly. He chewed his lip. “Well, maybe a little bit. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be nice to celebrate together.”

  “You had it all planned out, huh?” I teased. “Someone was confident.”

  Max flushed. “Well, I didn’t think you were going to say no…”

  “Of course I wasn’t going to say no. I’d have said yes even if you’d puked on me.”

  He made a face. “Oh Shirley, don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “It’s gross!”

  “I don’t care. I love you.”

  He pulled me close, pressing his lips to mine. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

  2008

  August

  IT WAS hot, too hot, and there was a bug crawling up my leg beneath the dress. Somewhere behind me someone sneezed, drawing titters from the crowd. The priest glanced up, then frowned down at his book. He’d lost his place. He decided to start again from the beginning.

  I didn’t mind. I’d stand there all day, sunshine burning my neck and a whole army of bugs crawling across my skin, just as long as Max’s hands stayed clasped in mine. He hadn’t stopped smiling since I’d come down the aisle. I’d been fighting back tears since I first saw him waiting for me.

  Max held my hands tighter as he began his vows, his gaze steady and his voice clear with truth. With every word I marveled at the man pledging his life to me, swearing his love before friends and family, and promising his unwavering, unconditional support. It was beautiful.

  I couldn’t wait to say the same to him.

  20

  September

  “I THINK I’d like three,” Max said. “Hopefully one boy and one girl.”

  A slice of tomato fell from his sandwich into his lap. He picked it up with a frown. “Nuts. Could you pass me a napkin?”

  I pulled a handful from the dispenser and slid them across the cafeteria table. “I tried to warn you, Max. You should have gone with pickles.”

  “I like tomatoes,” he said, dabbing at his pants.

  “And look how they’ve betrayed you.”

  “Just because you don’t like tomatoes doesn’t mean I’m not going to eat them. Well, maybe not this one.” He set the tomato aside and took a bite of his sandwich. “So what do you think?”

  “I already told you. You should have had pickles.”

  He smiled. “I meant about kids, Shirley.”

  I slurped my soda, watching Max watch me. “We’ve only been married for a month,” I said casually. “I think it’s too soon to talk about kids.”

  “But do you like three? A boy and a girl?”

  “And the third one would be what exactly?”

  “You know what I mean. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know what I think. I haven’t yet.”

  “Okay,” he said. “I just thought I’d ask.”

  He returned to his sandwich, giving me a questioning look when my lunch sat untouched. “Aren’t you going to eat? There’s no tomato on your sandwich, I promise.”

  “Just saving it for later,” I told him.

  My mouth was suddenly dry.

  2009

  February

  I SPAT a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and cocked my ear toward the bedroom. The only sound was the beeping of Max’s alarm. He’d hit snooze three times already.

  “Max? Are you getting up?”

  I rinsed my mouth and went back into the be
droom, circling the bed to Max’s side. The alarm was still going. I shut it off. “Max?”

  He was lying on his stomach beneath the blankets, which were drawn all the way over his head. When I pulled them back I saw he’d stuffed the pillow over his head, too. I prodded him gently. “Max. Hey. It’s time to get up.”

  No response. I tugged on the pillow, and his hands shot up to keep it in place. I struggled with him for a minute before giving up and heading to the shower. When I returned he’d disappeared beneath the blankets again.

  I yanked the covers off the bed and took him by the shoulders, flipping him onto his back. He tried to cover his face with the pillow, but I pried it out of his hands and threw it into the corner. He pressed his palms into his eyes, but at least I knew he could hear me.

  “Max. What are you doing.”

  He mumbled unintelligibly.

  “I can’t hear you, Max.”

  He mumbled a little louder.

  I climbed onto the bed and settled next to him, resting my hand on his forehead. “Do you have a headache?”

  He nodded.

  “Again?”

  He nodded.

  “You should see a doctor. This is the fourth time this week.”

  “Can you tell Dixon?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “I think maybe you need to talk to him yourself.” I took his hands and pulled them away from his face. I waited for him to open his eyes. He didn’t. “Max. Look at me.”

  He opened his eyes, but turned his head so he was looking somewhere past my shoulder. I considered dropping my towel to get his attention, then thought better of it. The whites of his eyes were shot through with red. Dark circles marred his skin. I stroked the back of his hands with my thumbs.

  “Max, is there something you’re avoiding at work?”

  “No. I’m just not feeling good.”

  Not quite a mumble, but not convincing either. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. He’d tossed and turned for three nights straight, and all he’d been eating were microwaved ramen noodles. Of course he didn’t feel good. I just wasn’t sure the headache had come first.