Three

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by McMan, Ann;


  “Yes.” He looked toward the back of his courtroom. “I noticed that you brought the entire menagerie.” He nodded. “I have a Siberian husky myself. Wonderful dogs.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Clarissa stomped on my foot.

  “Officer Colodny?” The judge faced the policeman. “What would it require for you to accept this beleaguered woman’s sincere apology and withdraw your complaint?”

  The policeman hesitated.

  “And while you deliberate, may I remind you, Officer, that it is now,” the judge consulted his watch, “twenty minutes to one on Christmas morning.”

  Officer Colodny sighed and turned to face Clarissa.

  “That was some pretty tasty brandy,” he said.

  Clarissa beamed at him. “You liked it?”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to a bottle to give the missus.”

  “I think I can take care of that,” she said. “If we can find a liquor store that’s still open and hasn’t been robbed, I’ll buy you two.”

  “Trust me, lady,” the policeman said. “One thing I know how to find is an open liquor store.”

  “So. Are we quits?” the judge asked. “Everybody satisfied?”

  Clarissa and Officer Colodny both nodded.

  “Great.” The judge banged his gavel. “Cases dismissed. This court is now out of session. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

  I stared up at him in amazement. “That’s it? We get to go home?”

  He got to his feet and put on his red Santa hat. “Not quite. There’s one more small matter of business we need to attend to before the two of you can leave.”

  He came down from the bench and walked over to stand in front of us.

  “Hey, Frank?” he called out to my brother. “You want to bring those children up here?”

  He smiled at me. “We need a few witnesses for this wedding.”

  Wedding? I looked at Clarissa. She tightened her grip on my hand.

  Frank and the boys had joined us.

  “Alrighty, then.” Judge Krzyzewski cleared his throat. “Who gives this woman to be wed?”

  As if on cue, Sadie cut loose with one of her textbook, ear splitting chirps. Clarissa and I exchanged startled glances.

  The judge laughed.

  “Works for me,” he said.

  By the time we got home, there were only few hours remaining until dawn. The snow was still falling, but more slowly—in fat, fluffy flakes. The world around us looked—different. It was reborn. Like a village made of marzipan. Everyday things seemed richer, sweeter, full of innocence and alive with promise.

  We did manage to find an all-night liquor store that hadn’t been robbed, and Clarissa gifted Officer Colodny with two big, shiny bottles of Remy Martin XO. He joined us for an early wedding breakfast at Waffle House—along with Frank and the kids. We bought a cheeseburger for Sadie, and a black bean burger for Maris, who was reputed to be vegan—her fondness for pork tenderloin, notwithstanding. The dogs were content to doze on the backseat of the cruiser, contentedly listening to police band radio.

  Luckily for us, it was a busy night in Baltimore.

  Once we got back to the house, we were all so exhausted that we decided not to fight the boys about pajamas, retainers, or eardrops. We just collapsed into our bed in one big, giant, happy heap with promises that when we woke up, we’d open presents, trudge through the snow to visit Marty, and eat junk food all day.

  Falling asleep in those last hours of night with Clarissa’s head on my shoulder, and surrounded by the soft snores of three kids and two dogs, I thanked the lone, lucky star that had managed to guide me to this quiet place of peace and great joy. Somehow, without my knowledge, the bleakness of my lonely nevermore had morphed into evermore. Something simpler, wiser—filled with soft blue light and the sweet, enduring scent of red violets.

  It was enough.

  About the Author

  ANN McMAN is the author of seven novels, Jericho, Dust, Aftermath, Hoosier Daddy, Festival Nurse, Backcast and the forthcoming Goldenrod, and the short story collections Sidecar and Three. She is a recipient of the Alice B. Lavender Certificate for Outstanding Debut Novel and a four-time winner of Golden Crown Literary Society Awards. Her novel, Hoosier Daddy, was a Lambda Literary Award finalist. She resides in Winston-Salem, North Carolina with her wife, two dogs, two cats, and an exhaustive supply of vacuum cleaner bags.

  At Bywater Books we love good books about lesbians just like you do, and we’re committed to bringing the best of contemporary lesbian writing to our avid readers. Our editorial team is dedicated to finding and developing outstanding writers who create books you won’t want to put down.

  We sponsor the Bywater Prize for Fiction to help with this quest. Each prize winner receives $1,000 and publication of their novel. We have already discovered amazing writers like Jill Malone, Sally Bellerose, and Hilary Sloin through the Bywater Prize. Which exciting new writer will we find next?

  For more information about Bywater Books and the annual Bywater Prize for Fiction, please visit our website.

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