Alice was literally sparkling right now. Julia had never seen the girl smile so brightly. She swept down and pulled Alice into her arms for a hug.
Alice giggled and hung on. “Kiss-mas tee. Nice.”
Julia twirled her around until they both were breathless. Then, smiling, they moved on to the task of decorating the tree.
“IT’S THE PRETTIEST TREE WE’VE EVER HAD,” ELLIE SAID, SITTING ON THE sofa with a mug of Bailey’s in her hand and a Costco fake mink throw rug over her feet.
“That’s because Dad used to buy the biggest one on the lot, then cut off the top to make it fit in the room.”
Ellie laughed at the memory. It was one she’d forgotten: The great big tree, taking up the whole corner of the room, its top hacked off; Mom frowning in disappointment, swatting Dad’s arm. You never listen, Tom, Mom would say, a tree isn’t supposed to be trimmed on top. I should make you get us another one.
But it took only moments, sometimes less, before he had her smiling again, even laughing. Now, now, Bren, he’d say in that gravelly voice of his, why should our tree be like everyone else’s? I’ve just given us a bit of oomph, I have. Right, girls?
Ellie had always answered first, shouting out her agreement and then running to her dad for his hug.
For the first time, as she held a memory in her hands, she tilted it, saw it instead from a different angle. The other little girl who’d been in the room, who’d never called out agreement with her father, whose opinion had never been sought.
Ellie looked at Julia over the rim of her mug. “How come he did it every year? Cut the top of the tree, I mean.”
Julia smiled. “You know Dad. He cared about what he cared about. The tree didn’t matter so he didn’t think about it.”
“But you and Mom cared.”
“You know Dad,” Julia said.
“I’m like him,” Ellie said. All her life she’d been proud of that fact.
“You always have been. People adore you, just as they adored him.”
Ellie took a sip of her drink. “Cal accused me of being selfish,” she said quietly.
“Really?”
“The correct response would have been surprise. Shock, even. Something like: how could he even think that?”
“Oh,” Julia said, trying not to smile.
“Say what’s on your mind,” Ellie snapped.
“When I was little, I had a huge crush on Cal. He was everything I dreamed of when I was eleven. But he only had eyes for you. He followed you everywhere. I was jealous every time you snuck out to be with him.”
“You knew about that?”
“We shared a bedroom. What am I, deaf? Just because I never told doesn’t mean I didn’t know. The point is, I remember when you dumped him. He kept coming around for the rest of that summer, tossing rocks at the window, but you never answered.”
“We grew apart.”
Julia gave her a look. “Come on. Once those football boys saw your new boobs, you were in. Poor Cal was left in the dust. And when you made cheerleader, well . . .” Julia shrugged. “You became royalty in this town and you loved every second. In that, you were like Dad. You . . . moved on from Cal, but somehow you kept him around like a moon caught in your orbit. It’s that magic you and Dad have. People can’t help loving you—even if you’re sometimes too focused on your own life.”
“So I am selfish. Is that why my marriages failed?”
“Is it?”
“Is that the kind of questions you learned in that decade of college?”
Julia laughed. “Exactly so. Here’s another one: how does it make you feel?”
Ellie didn’t quite know how to answer that. She’d heard this new picture of herself, but it didn’t feel like a reflection yet. It felt like a possibility, one she could change or talk her way out of if she really wanted to. She’d always thought of herself as a good person who really cared about others. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
“I threw you to the media wolves. All I cared about was . . .” She started to say finding Alice’s name, but the pretty little lie caught in her throat. It was only partially true. “I didn’t want to fail. I hardly thought about your feelings.”
Julia surprised her by smiling. “Don’t worry about it.”
“If it matters, I didn’t really know how bad it would be for you. Maybe if I’d known—” At Julia’s look, Ellie laughed. “Okay, it wouldn’t have mattered. But I am sorry.”
“Don’t be. Really. Alice is my second chance. I don’t know what I would have done without her.”
They were silent for a long moment.
“I want to adopt her,” Julia said finally. “Alice needs to know she belongs someplace, and with someone, even if she doesn’t really understand it all yet. And I need her.”
“What happens if someone shows up to claim her?”
Softly, Julia said: “Then I’ll need my sister, won’t I?”
Ellie’s throat tightened. She realized right then how much she’d missed when she and Julia went their separate ways, and how much it mattered to her that they had come back together. “You can count on me.”
“ALICE, YOU’RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION. WE’RE PLAYING WITH THE blocks now.”
The little girl shook her head and jutted her chin in stubborn defiance. “No. Prittees.” She jumped up from the chair and ran around to the Christmas tree. Each ornament fascinated her, but the red ones most of all.
Julia couldn’t help smiling. It had been this way from the moment they put the tree up. They’d had to work at the dining room table so Alice could always see the ornaments. “Come on, Alice. Five more minutes with the blocks. Then I have a surprise for you.”
Alice turned to her. “Prize?”
Julia nodded. “After blocks.”
Alice sighed dramatically and stomped back to the dining table. She plopped in her chair and crossed her arms.
This time Julia had to turn her head to hide her smile. Alice was certainly learning to express her emotions. “Show me seven blocks.”
Alice rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything as she culled seven blocks from the pile beside her elbow. “Seven.”
“Now show me four blocks.”
Alice removed three blocks from the string she’d just created, shoving them back into the pile.
Julia frowned. “Wait a minute. Did you just subtract the blocks?” No. It couldn’t be. The girl could only count to twenty so far. Addition and subtraction were too complex.
Alice stared at her blankly.
Before, in counting blocks, Alice had always started fresh, returning all the blocks to the pile and then choosing the newly requested number. “Are you rushing to get to your surprise or was that just a lucky guess?”
“Prize?”
“Show me one block.”
Alice’s smile fell. Dutifully, she removed three blocks from the pile, leaving one.
“How many more blocks do you need to have six?”
Alice held up five fingers.
“And if I take two, how many would be left?”
Alice curled down two fingers. “Free.”
“You are adding and subtracting.” She shook her head. “Wow.”
“Done?”
Julia wondered what other tricks Alice had up her sleeve. Maybe it was time for an IQ test. She was about to ask Alice another question when the phone rang. Julia went into the kitchen to answer. “Hello?”
“Merry Christmas Eve,” Ellie said.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Are you coming?”
“Hopefully. We’ll try to leave in a minute or two.”
“Will she make a scene?”
“She might.”
“We’re waiting.”
“Okay.” Julia said good-bye to her sister and hung up.
She went to Alice then, bent down. “Julia would never hurt Alice, you know that, right?”
Alice’s face pulled into a frown.
&
nbsp; “I want to take you someplace special. Will you come with me?” Julia held out her hand.
Alice took hold, but her frown didn’t soften. She was confused, and as often happened, confusion frightened her.
“First you have to put on boots and your coat. It’s cold outside.”
“No.”
Julia sighed. The fight over shoes never ended. “Cold outside.” She reached for the fake-fur-lined rubber boots and black wool coat she’d put by the door. “Come on. I’ll give you a surprise if you put them on.”
“No.”
“No surprise? Oh, well, then.”
“Stop!” Alice cried out as Julia walked away. Frowning, she stuck her bare feet in the boots, put on her coat and clomped across the wood floor. “Smelly shoes.”
Julia smiled down at her. Smelly was the word for anything Alice didn’t like. “You’re such a good girl.” Reaching down, she took hold of Alice’s hand. “Will you follow me?”
Slowly, Alice nodded
Julia led the girl out of the house and toward Peanut’s truck. As she opened the door, she heard Alice start to make noises. It was the low, throaty growl she used to make.
“Use your words, Alice.”
“Stay.” She looked terrified.
This reaction didn’t surprise Julia. She’d anticipated it. At some point in her life Alice had been taken somewhere—by someone—in a car. Perhaps that trip was the start of the bad times.
“I won’t hurt you, Alice. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you.”
Her blue-green eyes were huge in the tiny white oval of her face. She was trying so hard to be brave. “No leave Girl?”
“Never. No.” Julia tightened her hold on Alice’s hand. “We’ll go see Ellie.”
“Lellie?”
Julia nodded, then tugged on the girl’s hand. “Come on, Alice. Please?”
Alice swallowed hard. “Okay.” Very slowly, she climbed into the passenger side of the truck. Julia helped her into the booster seat they’d purchased last week for this very occasion. When she snapped the seat belt in place, Alice started to whimper. At the shutting of the door, that pathetic whimper grew into a desperate howling.
Julia hurried around the car and slipped into the driver’s seat. By now Alice was hyperventilating, trying to unhook the straps.
“It’s okay, Alice. You’re scared. That’s okay.” Julia said the words over and over again until Alice calmed down enough to hear her.
“I’m putting on my seat belt, see? Now I’m hooked in, too.”
Alice whimpered, pulled on the strap.
“Use your words, Alice.”
“Fee. Peas. Girl fee.”
All at once Julia got it. Idiot. She should have foreseen this. The memory of those tiny pale scars on Alice’s ankle. Ligature marks. “Oh, Alice,” she said, feeling tears well in her eyes. Maybe she should quit now, try another time.
No.
Alice had to come into this world sometime, and in this world kids sat in car seats. But there was one concession she could make. Julia moved Alice and the car seat to the middle of the bench seat in the old truck, then held the girl’s hand. “Is that better?”
“Fwaid. Girl fwaid.”
“I know, baby. But I won’t let you go. You’re safe. Okay?”
Alice’s gaze was steady, trusting. “’Kay.”
Julia started the car.
Alice screamed and tightened her hold on Julia’s hand.
“It’s okay, honey,” Julia said over and over until Alice quieted.
It took them almost ten minutes to get down the driveway. By the time they reached the highway, she had almost no feeling left in her right hand. She ignored the pain and kept up a steady stream of comforting dialogue.
Looking back on it, Julia could pinpoint when Alice changed. It was at the corner of Azalea Street and West End Avenue.
Earl and Myra’s house, to be precise. As always, the couple had decorated as if it were an Olympic event. White lights twinkled from every surface. A giant Santa and sleigh arced above the peak of the roof in a brilliant display of red and green lights. On the front door was a twinkling green wreath, and tiny green-lit trees outlined the path from street to house.
Alice made a sound of pure delight. For the first time, she let go of Julia’s hand and pointed at the house. “Look.”
This was as good a place as any to stop. They were a block from the police station. Julia pulled over to the curb and parked, then went around to Alice’s door, opening it. Before she’d even finished unstrapping Alice, the girl was slithering out of the seat and climbing out of the truck.
At the edge of the sidewalk, Alice paused, staring up at the house. “Prittee,” she breathed.
Julia came up beside her.
Alice immediately took her hand.
Julia waited patiently, knowing Alice’s penchant for studying things. It was entirely possible that they’d stand here for an hour.
At some point the red door opened. Myra stood there, dressed in a long black velvet skirt and a red knit sweater. Carrying a tray of cookies, she walked slowly toward them.
Julia felt Alice’s tension. “It’s okay, honey. Myra is nice.”
Alice slid behind Julia but didn’t let go of her hand.
“Do you like cookies?” Myra said when she was closer. “My Margery liked spritz best when she was your age.”
Julia turned slightly and looked down at Alice. “She has cookies.”
“Cookees?”
“I made them myself,” Myra said, winking up at Julia.
Cautiously, Alice peered around Julia’s body. In a lightning-quick move she grabbed a red wreath cookie and popped the whole thing in her mouth. By the third cookie she’d moved out from behind Julia and stood tucked along her side.
“I brought you this, too,” Myra said, offering Alice a bright red plastic purse. “It was Margery’s favorite. But when I saw it, I thought of you.”
Alice’s eyes widened, her mouth rounded. “Red,” she whispered, taking the purse in her hands, holding it to her cheek.
“How did you know she loved anything red?” Julia asked.
Myra shrugged. “I didn’t.”
“Well. Tell Earl Merry Christmas from me.”
“He’s not home yet from the men’s choir practice, but I’ll pass it along. And to you, too.”
Holding hands, Julia and Alice walked down to Main Street and turned left. The streets were full of parked cars but empty of people on this ultimate family night. The parking lot behind city hall only had three cars in it.
Julia led Alice up the steps. “We’re going to get Ellie and then we’ll walk downtown. I’ll show you the pretty lights.”
Alice was so busy petting her purse she barely nodded.
Julia opened the door.
Inside the police station, Cal and his three daughters, and Peanut and Benji and their teenage son and daughter, and Ellie were dancing to an earsplitting rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Mel and his family were setting food out on the table.
Alice shrieked and started to howl.
Ellie ran for the stereo and shut it off. Silence descended. Everyone stared at one another. Cal was the first to move. He herded his girls into a group; they moved toward Julia. Alice glommed onto her side, trying to disappear. The whimpering started again; the thumb popped into her mouth.
Close, but not too close. Cal dropped down on one knee. “Hey, Alice. We’re the Wallace family. You remember us, I bet? I’m Cal, and these are my girls. Amanda, Emily, and Sarah.”
Alice was trembling. She tightened her hold on Julia’s hand.
Peanut bustled her family forward. Her husband, Benji, was a big, burly-looking man with twinkling eyes and a ready smile. Not once during the party did he let go of his wife’s hand. Their teenagers were clearly trying to appear “cool,” but every now and then they grinned like little kids.
Introductions were made quietly. Benji knelt down slowly in front of Alice and wished her
a very Merry Christmas, then he herded his children over to the tree.
Peanut stayed behind. “I can’t go over there,” she said to Julia. “Eggnog. Some people can drink a glass of it. I’d like an IV.” She laughed.
At the sound, Alice looked up and smiled.
“You’ve really worked a miracle with her,” Peanut said, showing Alice her long red fingernails. Each one sported a sparkly wreath.
“Thanks,” Julia said.
“Well, I better get over to my family. But before I go . . .” She leaned close to Julia, whispered, “I have a bit of gossip.”
Julia laughed. “I’m hardly the one to tell.”
“Oh, you’re the only one. My sources—which are FBI good—tell me that a certain doctor in town took a date to the movies. That’s like Paris Hilton moving into a double wide. Some things don’t happen. But this one did.”
“It was just a movie.”
“Was it?” Peanut gave her a wink, a pat on the arm, and she left.
For the next fifteen minutes everyone went about celebrating Christmas, but it was as if the mute button had been pushed. The laughter was quiet, the talking even more so. In the background the Vince Garibaldi trio Christmas CD came on. It was the music from A Charlie Brown Christmas. Mom’s favorite. At some point Earl and Myra showed up with more food.
Alice was mesmerized by the opening of presents. She finally came out from behind Julia so she could see better. She didn’t talk to anyone except Ellie, but she seemed content to watch it all. She dared to play alongside Sarah, who was a few years older. Not together, but side by side; Alice watched Sarah’s every move and imitated it. By the time everyone started to leave, Alice could dress and undress Disco Barbie without help. After the party broke up, Ellie, Julia, and Alice walked downtown. Alice couldn’t stop pointing at the various lights and decorations. She kept tugging on Julia’s hand and dragging her forward. It was going better than Julia had anticipated, actually.
Julia walked beside Ellie. Alice pointed at every light, every decoration.
“She reminds me of you,” Julia said to her sister. “You always had such enthusiasm for the holidays.”
“You, too.”
“I was quieter, though. In everything.”
Magic Hour Page 27