by McMan, Ann;
It was Christmas, after all. And even though my face felt like it had gone ten rounds with an anvil, I was still here—in my own home. On Christmas Eve. With the love of my life.
I thought about Clarissa and the winding road we’d traveled to reach this place—this very place that was filled with so much peace and joy.
Hell. She was the love a thousand lifetimes.
I walked over to the towers of boxes and began to sort them by size. We’d just have to guess which gifts were for what kids. Simon’s were pretty easy to pick out. Anything that had a line of type designating that the product was for “adults and children over age eighteen” was plainly for him. I decided that Alvin would get everything that posed a choking hazard—even though I was tempted to cart them all upstairs and present them all to Sadie. The rest would go to Teddy by process of elimination.
It seemed to be working out all right. When I finished, I had three piles that were pretty equal in size.
Clarissa came back from the kitchen carrying a tray loaded with two large drinks and some nosh. I noted that her food choices were somewhat eclectic. I pointed at a bowl of something bland-looking and…runny.
“What ith that?”
“Cream of wheat.”
“Cream of…” I gave up trying to say it. “Why?”
She handed me a spoon. “Because I didn’t think you’d be able to manage Bavarian pretzels or crudités.”
Good thinking. As always.
I took the spoon from her and picked up the bowl. She’d even dusted the hot muck with brown sugar. I looked at her with cow eyes.
“I luff ’ou.”
“Eat,” she commanded. “You’re going to need your strength.”
“Id won be thath bad. I got ’em all sordeth ow.” I pointed at the three piles. “Thee?”
She nodded and fixed me with one of her best, smoldering Hollywood looks.
Lauren Bacall this time.
“I wasn’t talking about now. I was talking about later—after we finish wrapping the presents.”
It suddenly felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath my feet.
“So,” Clarissa had moved on. Katharine Hepburn was back in charge. She hauled Marty’s giant plastic bag full of wrapping paper over and pulled out three rolls. “Do you want to start with hermaphrodite reindeer, crack-addict Santas, or serial-killer elves?”
“I’ll thart with Alvinth.” I said. “Thith one.” I grabbed the roll that was festooned with fat, cartoon reindeer.
An hour later, we had them all finished and were just starting to arrange them beneath the Christmas tree when I head the sound of something that sounded like advancing thunder. It was coming from upstairs.
Uh oh.
Before I could react, Sadie came bounding down the stairs at warp six. She slid to a halt in front of the door seconds before we heard the telltale sound of feet stomping on the porch floor to knock snow from shoe tops. The doorbell rang.
Sadie began that earsplitting yodel of hers—that annoying, uniquely Siberian husky sound that was her breed’s psychotic substitute for barking.
“What the hell?” Clarissa climbed to her feet. “Sadie. You hush. Now.” She hurried over to the door. “Who is it?”
“Baltimore police,” a deep voice boomed. “Open the door, please, ma’am.”
Clarissa looked at me with amazement. I shrugged.
She opened the door wide enough to peer around the chain lock.
“May I see your IDs, please?”
They must’ve been legit, because Clarissa quickly closed the door and unlatched the lock.
She took hold of Sadie’s collar and pulled the door all they way open. Two of the largest men I’d ever seen filled up the opening. They did not look happy about being out in a blizzard on Christmas Eve. In fact, they didn’t look like they’d be happy any other time, either.
The larger of the two men was holding a folded sheet of paper.
“Are you Maryann Gillespie?” he asked.
“Maryann?” Clarissa sounded confused. “No.”
“Thath me.” I raised my hand like I was reporting for roll call in homeroom.
“You’re Maryann Gillespie?” he demanded.
I nodded.
He stepped forward and thrust the paper at me.
“I have a warrant for your arrest.”
“A what?” Clarissa was incredulous.
“An arrest warrant,” he explained.
I opened the paper in stunned silence and scanned its contents.
“Youth gotta be kiddin’ me.”
“What?” Clarissa snatched the paper out of my hands. She looked it over. “A man named Benny Brenowitz is charging you with assault and battery?” She glared at me. “Who the hell is Benny Brenowitz?”
“Butkuth.”
“Butkuth?” she repeated. Then her eyes widened with recognition. “You mean that loudmouthed lummox who slugged you at the mall?”
I nodded.
She faced the policemen. “That’s absurd. He’s the one who attacked her.”
“We’re not personally involved, ma’am. We’re just here to take Miss Gillespie downtown.”
“Downtown? You mean to jail? Tonight? As in right now?”
“Yes, ma’am. Right now.” He looked at his watch. “If we hurry, you can maybe get up in front of the judge before night court shuts down for the holiday. Otherwise?” He shook his head. “It’ll be Monday morning.”
Monday morning? That would mean spending four nights in the slammer. On Christmas. Impossible.
On the other hand, it would be a new personal best for me.
“Lemme geth my coat.”
Clarissa grabbed my arm. “Hold on a minute.” She faced the policeman. “Look officer,” she squinted at his nametag, “Officer Colodny. You can’t seriously be thinking about locking her up because of some ridiculous set of trumped-up charges?”
He stared back at her without speaking. The seconds ticked by.
“Clar?”
She whipped around to face me.
“Ith better if I juth go with ’em.”
“Maryann Gillespie, if you try to walk out of this house on Christmas Eve without me, you’re going to be sporting a shiner on top of a cracked jaw.”
I blinked. It was rare for Clarissa to make such public displays of attachment.
“Ith okay, honey,” I began. But Clarissa cut me off.
“You are not leaving me here alone with those hooligans.”
I looked down at Sadie who, for once, was standing there pretty calmly. It made sense. I mean, after all, it wasn’t my first rodeo. She’d seen me get arrested before.
“They’re noth thath bath, Clar.” I pointed down at Sadie. “Thee?”
Clarissa rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t talking about the dogs. I meant Marty’s kids.”
“Ma’am?” It was clear that Officer Colodny was growing exasperated. “We need to go. Now.”
“I goth a go, Clar.”
Clarissa sighed. “Where are you taking her?”
Officer Colodny handed her a card. “Circuit Court building. Bosley Avenue, Towson.”
I retrieved my coat and faced the officers. “Do you neeth tha cuff me?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He actually smiled at me. “Are you planning to escape?”
“Nuh uh.”
He took hold of my elbow. “I think you’ll do just fine like this.”
“Wait a minute.” Clarissa grabbed his arm. “You are not taking her without me.”
Officer Colodny looked down at Clarissa’s hand. “Ma’am, you need to let go of my arm.”
I saw Clarissa’s lip twitch. She tightened her grip.
“Ma’am. I’m not kidding. You need to let go of my arm right now.”
Clarissa lifted her chin. “Suppose I don’t?”
“Clar….” I could see where this was headed.
But Officer Colodny wasn’t buying it. “Ma’am, I know what you’re doing and it isn�
��t going to work.”
“Really?” Clarissa raised an eyebrow and reached for a half empty glass of Remy Martin XO that sat on the console table behind the sofa. “Okay. How about this?” Before anyone could stop her, she upended the tumbler and poured the cognac on his head. The amber waves ran down his broad forehead at a rate of about seven dollars per ounce.
I closed my eyes.
Twenty minutes later, Clarissa, all three boys, and both dogs were crammed into the back seat of a police cruiser with me as we made our snowy way to Towson for the second time that night.
The only good thing I can say about getting busted on Christmas Eve is that you don’t have to cool your heels for very long. Everyone is pretty much invested in fast tracking the proceedings so they can get the hell outta Dodge before the night shift ends at one a.m. They even had Christmas carols playing in the booking area.
Because we had the kids—and the dogs—in tow, they let us wait in a kind of anteroom until our cases were called up for arraignment.
Cases. Jeez. I wondered, idly, if Clarissa and I would be permitted to have conjugal visits in Brockbridge?
The kids were still sleepy and had stretched out along some wooden benches. Amazingly, they all managed to grab their sunglasses on the way out of the house. It wasn’t until we got herded into this small room and they took off their coats to use as pillows that I noticed what Alvin was wearing.
I nudged Clarissa. “Is that one of your…you know?”
At least my tongue was working again.
“My what?” She took a closer look at Alvin. “Oh, my god. Where did he get that?”
“He sleepwalks,” Simon volunteered. “You’re lucky it wasn’t the full peignoir set.”
I raised a hand to my eyes.
This was a nightmare. One that just promised to go on and on.
“Go back to sleep, Simon.” Clarissa handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “There’s more where that came from.”
He looked dubious.
“I have a trust fund,” she clarified.
He took the money and rolled over onto his side, away from the light.
I shook my head.
“Will you relax?” Clarissa sounded amazingly calm, considering she’d just racked up her first arrest for assault. “I called Kirk and he’s on his way down.”
Kirk was the Wiley family attorney. In the last couple of years, I’d gotten to know him pretty well.
“What about Frank?” I asked her. She’d also called my brother, Father Frank, to come and retrieve the kids and the dogs and take them back to our house to wait on us.
“He said he’d be here as soon as the bingo game ended.”
Bingo? He was letting us sit in the joint on Christmas Eve until his bingo game was over?
I started at her in disbelief. “Seriously?”
She shrugged. “He said if he canceled an event every time you got arrested, the diocese would shut down his parish.”
“Sheesh. What about all those vows he took to help others in distress?”
“I don’t think those included a requirement for bailing his sister out of the joint more than twice in the same decade.”
“I don’t see why not,” I sulked.
“Look at the bright side.” She took my arm and rested her red head on my shoulder. “We’re together at Christmas. For once.”
I had to smile at that. It was true. We were together. Here, in this stuffy, wood-paneled room that smelled vaguely like a bus station. And we even had three kids and two dogs. The whole thing did exude a sort of Norman Rockwell feeling.
All except for that part about aggravated assault and attacking a police officer.
I kissed the top of her head.
Red violets. The scent of her hair filled up my world. Just like it always did.
“I love you, you know.”
“I know.” She squeezed my hand. “I love you, too.”
“I guess it’s probably Christmas by now.”
“I’d imagine so. It was nearly midnight when we got here.”
I yawned. “Do you want to try to sleep?”
Before she could answer, the door to our room creaked open.
“Gillespie and Wiley?” A stout woman with a battered clipboard waved her arm at us. “You’re up.”
We exchanged glances.
“Come on, move it.” The matron was in no mood to indulge us. “You two are the last cases tonight.”
Ten minutes later, the five of us were herded into a dimly lighted courtroom to greet our fate.
I blinked when I saw the man seated in the judge’s chair behind the bench. He had a long white beard and was wearing a bright red suit.
I nudged Clarissa. “Do you see what I see?”
She gave me an ironic look.
Two men were waving at us from one of the long tables at the front of the room.
Kirk and Frank. Thank god.
We walked forward to meet them.
“Hi ya, Diz.” Frank was wearing his collar. Nice touch. “I sure as heck hope you look better than the other guy.”
“Hi, Frank. Thanks for coming.” I shrugged. “Again.”
He laughed and leaned forward to kiss Clarissa on the cheek. “I thought you knew better than to follow in her footsteps?”
She smiled at him. “I’ve traveled worse roads.”
He nodded and punched me on the arm.
“Can you hang with the kids and the dogs until we get this sorted out?” I asked him.
“Sure.” He took the leashes from me. “Your buddy Kirk doesn’t think it’ll take very long. We’ll wait in the back row. And, Diz?”
I looked at him.
“You’re so taking us all to Waffle House when we get outta here.”
I handed him Maris’s sleep mask.
“What the blazes is this?” He held it up.
“Don’t ask.”
He shrugged and stuffed it into his coat pocket. He waved at the judge. “Nice job tonight. See you around, Tony.”
The judge waved back. “Later, Frankie.”
Frank winked at me and herded the dogs and the boys toward a bench at the back of the courtroom.
Clarissa was already deep in conversation with Kirk. He was showing her some paperwork and shaking his head.
“I don’t care what it costs,” I heard her whisper. “We are not spending Christmas in the joint. Fix it. Even if you have to pay that bastard off.”
Kirk turned pale. “Clarissa. Do not talk about a police officer that way.” He lowered his head closer to hers. “Not here.”
“What police officer? I was talking about that numbskull Brenowitz.”
“Hear ye, hear ye,” the bailiff bellowed. “All persons having business before the circuit court of the county of Baltimore are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Anthony Krzyzewski is presiding.”
Kirk touched Clarissa’s elbow. “Here goes.”
The bailiff approached the bench and handed the judge a couple of file folders.
“Gillespie and Wylie, please approach the bench.”
We both looked at Kirk for direction and he urgently waved us forward.
We stood there in silence while the judge flipped through the pages in our folders. He cleared his throat once or twice.
I glanced nervously at Clarissa and was surprised to see her trying not to smile.
The judge looked down at us.
“Miss Wylie?” he said. “Lovely to see you again. I must say that I wish it were under better circumstances.”
“As do I, Your Honor.” Clarissa sounded almost contrite. “I never did get to properly thank you for taking such good care of the children during that fracas at the shopping mall.”
He actually chuckled. “Don’t worry about that. It made getting stuck with that graveyard shift worth the effort.” He shifted his gaze to me. “How’s your jaw,” he smiled, “Miss Maddow? That Brenowitz really nailed you.”
“Judge Krzyzewski was the Santa Claus at the mall,” she explained. “When you got socked by that—”
Kirk cleared his throat.
Clarissa took the hint. “Gentleman,” she corrected.
“Oh.” I looked at him. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” he explained. “I’m going to take pity on you, Miss Gillespie, and dismiss these charges. Partly because it’s Christmas, and partly because Benny Brenowitz is a bad-tempered, obnoxious ass who persistently clutters my docket with his inane personal injury claims. You, on the other hand,” he shifted his fatherly gaze to Clarissa. “You assaulted a Baltimore city police officer. That offense I cannot overlook.”
Clarissa dropped her eyes. “I understand, Your Honor.”
“Is the arresting officer present in the courtroom?” he asked.
“Yes sir, I am,” a voice boomed from the back of the room.
“Come forward, please, Officer Colodny.”
The big policeman strode forward and stopped beside us in front of the bench.
“Is this the woman who,” he consulted his paperwork, “dumped a glass of liquor on your head?”
Officer Colodny nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”
The judge regarded Clarissa. “What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?”
Clarissa faced the policeman. “I am sorry about that. Truly.” She looked up at the judge. “I have no excuse. No way to defend my actions. This entire night was never supposed to unfold the way it did.” She reached out and took hold of my hand. “We were supposed to be enjoying a quiet Christmas Eve—just the two of us. Alone. For once.” She lowered her voice. “We were going to get married tonight. We hadn’t told anyone but Father Frank, Diz’s brother. He was going to be our only witness. But Marty got sick and Diz had to take his kids. So we put our plans on hold. The boys hadn’t seen Santa yet, so we brought them to the mall, where we met you, and…well. You know the rest.”
Judge Krzyzewski stared at her in silence for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.
“What led you to assault this officer?”
“I just didn’t want to be away from Diz. Not tonight. And I knew there’d be no other way we’d all get to come along with her.”