Hark! the Herald Angels Scream

by Hark! the Herald Angels Scream (retail) (epub)

  The air was cold and just right for staying buried in the blankets when she woke up, but Deanna had no desire to stay there. “Kids will wake me soon anyway,” she whispered to herself.

  The house was still dark, but it was New England in December, and that meant the sun came up later than most people woke up anyway. No luck. The alarm clock on the nightstand said three a.m.

  Her mind was too active for sleep and she knew it. So Deanna carefully slipped out of bed and moved her feet into her fuzzy slippers before shuffling as quietly as she could toward the kitchen, stopping only long enough to make certain that all three of the boys were sound asleep. They were.

  The wind outside howled around the edge of the house and the windows shook.

  Once again she found herself looking out the window, this time in the backyard, to see if more snow was falling. Nothing. Just the wind and skittering gusts of old snow captured and hurled through the air.

  The water met the electric kettle and she poured a pack of instant cocoa into her favorite mug. Hot chocolate, just the thing to promote a good night’s sleep. That was her theory and she was sticking to it. The water was ready in no time and she poured and mixed and then shuffled over to the seat nearest to the table. Cookies were close enough to grab and so she did. Three of them, which she drowned in hot cocoa before eating. Really, she knew the reason that last dozen pounds refused to leave her alone.

  When she closed her eyes she could almost hear Matt calling her piggy. He’d only done that once, when she was eight months pregnant. That had been their first serious fight in over a year. He’d meant it as a joke. Hormones and a body swollen by not one but two children sitting inside her and beating the hell out of her internal organs had guaranteed she didn’t take it that way.

  Very late at night and early in the morning, those were the worst times. She still missed him, only sometimes she hated him, too. He’d been the one who’d decided to reenlist. He’d had choices. He had plenty of choices and some of them paid better. Civilian work for the military almost always did, but he insisted. His duty to God and country.

  The tears didn’t threaten. They came out full force and Deanna shoved the palm of her hand against her lips and her teeth to suppress the noises of her angry, bitter tears. Angry because he’d left her, whether he’d meant to or not, and bitter because as much as she wanted to hate him for leaving and for hitting her those rare times when he had—and for leaving her without a husband and without a father for their kids—she still missed him and loved him so goddamned much that it carved a hollowed core where her heart should have been.

  Every man she’d flirted with, every one of the four men she’d tried to date, had been compared against Matt and they always fell short. She didn’t know if that was her over-romanticizing their love, or if he’d really been that amazing despite his flaws. But next to Matt they were all just pale, shallow imitations.

  The tears were hot and they stung her eyes and she had trouble catching her breath.

  And then the tears were gone again, just that fast. It was almost always like that.

  “Fuck. I hate the nights most of all.”

  The cocoa went into the sink. She’d deal with the cleanup tomorrow. Well, later today, after the sun rose and the kids were packed up and off to day care.

  Outside the wind wailed with an all-too-human sound of tragedy. Deanna looked out the window again and saw a ghostly white shape in the snow. It seemed to look at her for one second before dissolving into nothingness.

  Just her imagination, of course, but sleep did not come back to her easily, but eventually it showed itself, and she drifted off into a dreamless stupor.

  * * *

  —

  The thing about kids is, you want them to be happy. Happy kids mean happy mom. So she smiled and made pancakes with chocolate chips and she set them up with hot chocolate (lower temperature, of course, to avoid burning tiny mouths), and after breakfast she drove them to the day care. By the time she dropped the munchkins off she was in far better spirits.

  After that she pulled out all of the old decorations for the artificial tree—she preferred real ones, but the cost was insane and the thought that one of her boys might manage to drop a real one on his head terrified her. The fake tree weighed fifteen pounds. The real ones, on the other hand, could crush a little life. Maybe that was paranoia. She’d lost Matt. Jeannie always joked about her treating the boys like glass.

  Was it ever likely to happen? No. She anchored even the fake one at three points, but why take the chance?

  The decorations were laid out, box after box. She looked them over and had the exact same problem she did with almost everything. Memories, memories, memories. Matt was everywhere. She loved that. She hated that. No tears. She had a lunch date. So instead she set down the Hallmark ornament that her parents had given her to mark her first Christmas married to Matt, and she grabbed her coat.

  Fifteen minutes of rocking out to Christmas songs had her waiting for Jeannie and the supermodel to show up at their agreed-upon too-trendy restaurant. She was early. They were punctual.

  Ella was dressed in another outfit that screamed of money and a heightened fashion sense. Jeannie was dressed like Jeannie, in painted-on jeans and a blouse that managed to hug all of her curves in the best possible way. She made a note to cut back on the cookies, but even as she scolded herself, she knew it would do no good. Chocolate chips were just too damned tasty.

  She hugged both of the women and felt a sense of awe at her body’s reaction to Ella. Some women just exuded sensuality and her sister’s new friend was one of them.

  Despite a small blush, she was happy to see both of them and they sat at a booth and ordered the sort of food that no woman would ever consider getting on a first date with a potential partner. There was no guilt involved and the banter was good.

  Deanna thought about what Jeannie had said and asked, “So, you’re studying witchcraft and religion in school? Jeannie said you were thinking about becoming an archaeologist?”

  Ella smiled at her and shook her head. “Close. I’m studying anthropology and comparative religions with an emphasis on druidic lore and the foundations of modern Wicca.”

  “Jeannie’s way was easier to say.”

  Ella’s smile was pure seduction. “That’s one of the things I like about your sister. She’s easy.”

  Jeannie looked away, blushing. Ella winked.

  Jeannie said, “Anyway, we were discussing boots.”

  Deanna looked at her and smiled. “We were?”

  “We are now…”

  Deanna smiled and let herself relax.

  Somehow they wound up doing wine with the meal and then with dessert. Not enough to get drunk, but one more glass than Deanna should have done. It was that same old problem: wine made happy and wine made sad and sometimes it was challenging to know where to stop.

  Everything was fine until that damned song came on.

  The first chorus of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” was all it took for Deanna to get sniffly. Jeannie got that look again and even that made the situation worse. She couldn’t get angry with her little sister when she was the one who was starting with the waterworks.

  Without a word spoken, Ella reached over with a handkerchief and—in the process of moving in—shielded Deanna from the view of everyone around them.

  Deanna nodded her thanks as she dabbed at her eyes and shook her head, embarrassed.

  “Don’t be. Don’t be embarrassed. You’ve earned the right.” Ella’s words were unexpected. Deanna looked at her sister, part of her horrified.

  Ella continued: “I asked. She told me. We were talking about old lovers, and well, once upon a time with Jeannie and Matt. Old water under the bridge, Deanna.” Perfect. Her sister’s new special someone knew that she’d stolen Matt from Jeannie forever ago. One more reason to feel ho
rrible. As if reading her mind, Ella said, “All it means is that I know you lost someone. You have every reason to cry and not be worried about the tears.”

  Jeannie was looking at Ella, horrified, worried and probably just a little scared, too. Deanna was not known for liking it when people aired her private business.

  Deanna nodded. Really, what was Jeannie supposed to do if someone asked? Lie? Hardly. She offered a weak smile to her sister and Jeannie returned it gratefully.

  “The thing is, I know he wasn’t that good a guy,” Deanna said, surprised to find herself sharing so openly with a woman she barely knew. “There were times I even maybe hated him a little. But he was mine, and I was his, and I miss him all the time.”

  Ella shrugged and smiled. “I miss smoking, even knowing it was never any good for me. What you’re going through? I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  Ella leaned over and gave her a quick hug. The contact was warm and bordered on sensual. It was also a wonderful distraction that only lasted for a few seconds.

  “So. Are you still up for shopping? Or would you rather go home?” Ella looked at her and stared into her eyes and Deanna had trouble remembering the question.

  Still she managed to choke out, “Shopping, I think. But no more wine.”

  “There’s a Starbucks down the street. Cappuccino and chocolate for you.”

  A few minutes later, lunch paid for by Ella amid a few protests that were ignored, they headed for the coffee shop.

  Ella asked, “Would you really want him back? Even at his worst?”

  Deanna looked at her and nodded her head. “Isn’t that horrible?”

  “No. That is human. We always want what we can’t have.” Ella smiled and looked at the windows of the coffee shop. They were festooned with Christmas lights and promises of endless goodies past the front door.

  Jeannie ran ahead to open the door for them and Ella looked at Deanna as they moved toward the open warmth and the smell of coffee. “Still, it’s almost Christmas. Who can say what sort of miracles we might yet get out of this old year?”

  Deanna did not find the words very comforting, though she was sure they were meant that way.

  * * *

  —

  Later that night, after the boys were fed and they’d all watched the animated version of A Christmas Carol with Mr. Magoo and then Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, while decorating the plastic tree, Deanna tucked her little ones into bed and settled on the couch. More hot cocoa and a few cookies—fuck her weight. It was a crisis day. She’d actually cried in public.

  Ella had given her a small package, wrapped in festive red paper and sporting a blue bow. She’d said, “A little something. Nothing fancy. I made them myself, but Merry Christmas.”

  She thought of the other woman and again had that mix of lust and confusion wash through her. Not even a little gay, but maybe she was, after all. Normally, if anything like that had come up, she’d have called Jeannie and discussed it. This time? Not a chance. The one time they’d locked horns over a guy, it had been Matt. He had dated Jeannie for a few weeks before they both knew it was over, and somehow along the course of those events he’d started giving Deanna the eye. Damn, but he was so cute. Sculpted marble, that man had been. With a perfect smile and those eyes…

  That had been a dark point in the relationship between the two sisters. They’d gotten over it eventually, but still. Even today they didn’t mention it very often.

  Because she was in a mood, and because she now felt obligated to buy something for Ella, Deanna opened the package and looked at her gift. If they truly were handmade, then Ella had insane skills. It was a set of earrings and a simple choker necklace. All three had the same design for a centerpiece. It was a figure that could have been a man, poised with one leg bent and resting on the other. Both arms were held up in celebration, the head tilted so the face was pointed almost straight up. The form was made entirely of carefully crafted holly and mistletoe leaves and berries.

  They weren’t exactly festive, but they were oddly beautiful and the craftsmanship was undeniable. Looking carefully, she could see the skeleton of the man’s shape made of gold wire filigree. Each piece was handmade. She looked at the sculpted foliage carefully and saw the flaws in the tiny leaves. No two were alike. Even the tiny berries were hand painted and attached.

  She set the earrings down and slipped the choker in place. It nestled perfectly against her throat. Deanna smiled and considered what to get the woman in return. She was still thinking about it when she drifted into a deep sleep.

  Matt, so damned handsome in his dress blues, smiled at her as he came through the front door amid a howling flurry of snow that stuck to everything and accumulated instead of melting.

  Behind her, Deanna heard Matt screaming, his words slurred and spewed angrily. Something crashed to the ground and all three of her sweet boys cried out in fear.

  He came closer still, and his handsome face shifted a bit, changed in subtle ways. His smile was certainly frozen in place. His gums were the wrong color, a dim gray, and as she looked at his lips she saw the broken threads, pulled apart when he moved his mouth. The same was true of his eyes. At first she thought they were fine, beautiful, but as he came closer she saw the cotton ticking that had replaced them, and the dark threads that had kept his eyelids sewn shut.

  The sounds behind her grew louder. One of the twins let out a scream of pure fear. The other gasped in pain. She couldn’t make herself turn around, couldn’t get up to see what was happening to her boys. She was frozen, staring as Matt came closer and closer, his white teeth clenched together in his perfect smile. His forehead was wrong, held together by mortician’s wax and more stuffing, but she could see where the makeup was peeling back, could look into the deep dent where his skull had been before he died.

  She didn’t know which was worse, the feelings she was experiencing or the fact that she knew she was having a nightmare and couldn’t break free of it.

  Matt placed his lips against her earlobe and hissed the words, “I’ve missed you so much, baby,” against her flesh. His breath was frozen and the words tickled her skin in a sick parody of the passion they used to share.

  Even as he was whispering in her ear, she heard him screaming at their youngest to shut his fucking mouth if he didn’t want his tongue pulled out.

  Deanna woke up with sweat covering her skin. Her breath came in fast, panted gasps, and her eyes rolled in her head as she tried to tell herself it was just a dream.

  The choker around her neck still felt perfectly comfortable, but she could feel her pulse bouncing the odd mistletoe man with every beat of her heart.

  It was late, she knew that, but she did not know the time, only that her fresh hot cocoa had grown a skin and was tepid.

  Christmas Eve.

  By this time tomorrow, she’d have set out all the presents.

  Deanna looked at the tree, at that first ornament that reflected the year she and Matt got married, and felt a chill ripple up her spine.

  Did she love him? Yes. But she was glad he was gone. The anger she’d looked past a few times had been much worse his last time back in the country. His temper around the boys had been horrible. He’d never actually hit them, but she’d been afraid he would every time they were around him.

  He’d known it, too. He’d looked at her with wounded eyes when she’d tensed up as their baby boy toddled over to see his daddy.

  The winds outside slammed into the side of the house and shook the whole place.

  Snow. They were expecting snow.

  Deanna looked out the front door’s window and saw the snow whipping frantically in the air, writhing and dancing and creeping closer to the house. She thought of Matt again and shivered. For a moment she considered whether or not she might have a fever, but then shrugged the notion away.

  “Just
bad dreams,” she said to herself.

  Would she want Matt back? In the depths of the early morning, with hours to go before the sun rose, she could not say for certain.

  * * *

  —

  When she woke up, exhausted after only a few hours of actual sleep, Deanna did her best to smile as she got breakfast for the boys. They made her happy. They filled her with good cheer.

  Her youngest was particularly quiet throughout breakfast and finally she looked at him and asked what was wrong. He picked at his food and stared down at the table more than he looked at anything else.

  “Hunter? Are you okay, baby?”

  He looked her way and nodded but he looked miserable.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” She squatted next to his chair until they were the same height.

  Hunter leaned in close and whispered, “I can’t tell you.”

  That earned him a small, confused frown. “Why not, baby? You know you can tell me anything.”

  He leaned in closer still and she had to strain to hear his whisper. “Because Daddy said he’d steal my tongue if I spoiled the surprise.”

  Could she have screamed just then? Hell yes. Damned skippy. It was an effort not to back away from her baby boy. Sometimes she was surprised Hunter even knew who his father was. The last time they’d seen each other he had barely been a whole year old and just starting to walk with his lumbering, jerky steps. Remembering his serious face at that age, her heart filled with love for her baby boy and broke a little that he would never really know his dad.

  “It was just a bad dream, baby boy. Don’t you worry about any of that, okay? Daddy isn’t here and even if he was, he’d never hurt you that way.” Little white lies. She wanted to make sure her boys stayed happy for all of their lives. That was the job of a parent, wasn’t it? Happy, healthy children?