“This is so cool. I love it!” Natalie used her new, kid-version digital camera to snap three more pictures of the dog and cat sleeping in the sunny spot on the living room floor. “Sam and Swiffer look like they’ve been together forever.” She held the camera so Ellis could see the image in the camera’s playback viewer. “This is a great present.”
“I’m glad you like it, toots.” Ellis accepted Natalie’s hug. “After you and your mom get back from visiting your relatives, I’ll show you how to organize the pictures on your computer, but now, you’d better sit down and eat before your hamburger gets cold.”
“Okay.” Natalie paged back through the two dozen shots on the camera. “I wish you and Sam were coming with us.”
“We’ve talked about that, Nat,” Mary said as she sat at the table. “You know how Gramma Anna and Aunt Gloria and Aunt Naomi are about having strangers around for Christmas.”
“They let Daddy come.”
“That’s different. Daddy’s family.”
“But Ellis is family. So is Sam. They’ve been with us lots more than Daddy lately.” Natalie perched on the edge of her chair. “And Ellis sleeps in your room every night. You’re gonna miss her while we’re at Gramma Anna’s.”
Ellis didn’t dare look at Mary. It had been three weeks and six days (not that she was counting) since Mary had brought Ellis and Sam to the house on Wilson Woods Drive. She had shared Mary’s bed every night. Although she’d been surprised when Mary insisted on sleeping with her in case she needed help on her first night there, she was beyond delighted when Mary continued the practice on subsequent nights, even though it was apparent Ellis could readily get around on her crutches. They’d shared dozens—no, make that hundreds—of delicious kisses and some tantalizingly inviting touches, but that was as far as it had gone. They had talked at great length about their feelings for one another, but between Ellis’s painful ankle (and her barely admitted hesitancy over becoming involved with a woman with a child) and Mary’s shyness and lingering Baptist-induced horror over fulfilling her lifelong urges, frustration and inertia had thus far won out over desires and hormones.
Now, here it was the Friday before Christmas, and the next day, Mary and Natalie would be driving up to the foothills of the north Georgia mountains to spend the holiday with Mary’s mother, sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, nephews, and other assorted relatives. Nathan would be going up to his parents’ house—just down the road from Mary’s mother’s house—in his own car on Saturday, too, and he and Mary had agreed to specific periods of time when Natalie would be with the Kimbrough family during the coming week.
Ellis would stay in the city, probably at Mary’s house, so that Sam could use the yard, thus sparing Ellis the strain of walking her. Ellis’s ankle was certainly much improved, but being able to let Sam roam in a fenced yard was far better than Ellis limping up and down stairs at her apartment building and trying to keep Sam on a leash. Besides, that way she could take care of Swiffer without having to drive between her apartment and Mary’s house a couple of times a day.
Since Mary and Natalie would be away, it didn’t make sense to put up a Christmas tree, so they’d moved the coatrack that usually stood in the front entryway to a spot in front of the picture window in the living room. For a face, atop the coat rack, they’d secured a round tin serving plate bearing one of the classic Coca-Cola Santas grinning cherubically. Ellis had rigged a small spotlight that illuminated their skinny Santa from the floor up, making the scrawny figure look even more bony and garish. When they were done decorating it, it looked suspiciously like an anorexic Saint Nick with homosexual tendencies, given the number of rainbow-themed items affixed to the threadbare Santa suit bagging off the spindly post. Natalie had dubbed him “Jolly Old Saint Stickalus,” and the three of them spent time over the past week adding more adornments to the hopelessly overdone substitute for a tree.
Mary, Ellis, and Natalie had just shared their version of Christmas Eve, albeit in the middle of the day on December twenty-second. Ellis gave Natalie the digital camera, her first, which she mastered in far less time than it had taken Ellis to read the instruction booklet. Ellis gave Mary a gold ankle bracelet with a polished turquoise heart interwoven in the strand. Mary’s gift to Ellis was a custom-made key chain with a clear Lucite fob containing a picture of Natalie, Sam, and Swiffer bundled together, sound asleep on Natalie’s bed. Keys to Mary’s house were attached to the chain.
Ellis refused to admit to herself how accurate Natalie’s observation about her missing Mary was. No, she and Mary weren’t exactly lovers, but the thought of spending the next many nights apart felt like being exiled to a distant galaxy. Being in Mary’s house—Mary’s bed—without her would make it even worse. She and Mary hadn’t discussed the impending week’s separation, other than to say they didn’t want to talk about it.
Of course, they hadn’t decided how much longer Ellis would stay at Mary’s house, either. They had considered what they should say to Natalie about their relationship, which seemed to be a nonissue to the nine-year-old, and a good thing, too, since they weren’t at all confident they could describe for Natalie (or anyone else) exactly what their relationship was. They’d pondered what they needed to tell Nathan—again something of a mystery. Telling him they slept in the same bed and kissed a lot didn’t really seem like a definitive explanation.
“Did you even ask Gramma Anna if Ellis could come with us?”
Sam trotted into the kitchen. Natalie dropped to one knee and folded Sam’s ears on top of her head, giving her a canine version of the original Aunt Jemima look.
“No,” Mary said, “and I’ve warned you about going on and on about Ellis to Gramma.”
“I’ll have to tell Gramma where I got my new camera.” Natalie picked it up from the sofa and swung it by its carrying string. “You always tell me not to lie.”
“There’s a difference between truthfully answering a question that’s asked of you, and telling everybody everything you know just because you like the sound of your own voice.”
“’Tis the season to be jolly,” Natalie sang, “Fa la la la la, la la la la. Who wouldn’t want to hear me?”
“Why don’t you go to your room and make sure you’ve picked out the seven outfits you want to take to Gramma’s? I don’t want to have to discuss that with you tomorrow morning when it comes time to put them in your suitcase. And you can sing your heart out the whole time if you want to.”
“Okay.” Natalie headed for the hallway. “Can Sam come, too?”
“Sure,” Ellis said.
Girl and dog, with the added bonus of a cat, vanished from the room. In a moment, Ellis and Mary heard the muffled sounds of Natalie singing.
“I guess you’re a little worried about what she’ll tell your mother,” Ellis said.
“Rest assured, what little information Natalie doesn’t volunteer, my mother will pump out of her.”
“Does your mother know about your—uh—shall we say—inclinations?”
“The lesbian thing? Oh, please. My mother is on a daily crusade for me to reconcile with Nathan. I think it’s the number one entry on her many prayer chains.”
“So Natalie telling her that I’ve been sleeping with you for the past month isn’t going to be cause for celebration.”
“Good thing Baptists don’t do exorcisms, otherwise I know what I’d have in my stocking Christmas morning.”
“Or as your birthday present.”
“No danger of that. I decreed years ago that we’d observe my birthday on June twenty-fifth. No way was I going to get short-changed every year just because I was born on Jesus’s birthday.”
“That was clever of you.”
“I thought so, but I wish I was smart enough to figure out a way to make my mother understand that my sleeping with you isn’t cause for her to call out the religious militia.”
“Is it poor form for me to point out that we really haven’t done anything?” Ellis asked.
M
ary’s voice quivered as she spoke. “Is it poor form for me to point out that what I feel when I’m lying in bed with you, even though we’re doing absolutely nothing, is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done?”
“Yeah?” Ellis inched her chair a little closer.
“Oh, yeah.”
Gawd. To Ellis, Mary’s voice was like velvet brushing on satin. Ellis felt a hitch in her heartbeat. She savored the anticipation of Mary’s lips on hers.
“Mom!” The shout from down the hall froze them both. “Where’s my pink Bratz shirt? The one with the fuzzy stuff on Yasmin’s skirt.”
“Sorry, love,” Mary said to Ellis. “Fashion emergency. I’ll be back as fast as I can. Hold that thought.” She plopped a quick kiss on Ellis’s lips. “Where did you leave it, Nat?” Mary called as she departed. “It’s not my job to keep track of your clothes.”
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
Their good-bye on Saturday morning was drawn out and difficult. Mary’s Xterra, long since repaired after it was rear-ended following Ellis’s fall a month earlier, was loaded to capacity with clothes for Mary and Natalie and gifts for all of Natalie’s cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and for her Gramma Anna’s cat.
“You’ll call me when you get there, right?” Ellis asked for the fifth time as she leaned on the driver’s door.
“Yes, I’ll call you. I’ll call you from the parking lot at the gas station just before the last turn to my mother’s house. I won’t be able to talk long, but at least you’ll know we’re less than half a mile from our destination.”
“I’ll miss you, Mar.”
“I’ll miss you more, El.”
“Guess I’d better not kiss you out here on the street.”
“Probably not. Never know when the neighbors are going to have their binoculars trained on my driveway.”
“Wish I could.”
“Wish so, too.” Mary started the engine. “Thanks for taking care of Swiffer.”
“Thanks for letting me hang out here with Sam while you’re gone.”
“Promise you’ll be here when we get back.”
“I promise. I’ll be counting the minutes.”
Mary grabbed the gear shift. “We’d better roll. If I’m not there within ten minutes of when I said I’d be, Mother will have the Highway Patrol out looking for us.”
“Be safe, okay?”
“Not to worry. My little copilot over there”—Mary pointed her thumb at Natalie in the passenger seat—“will alert me to every conceivable road hazard.”
Ellis leaned farther into the cab. “You take good care of your mom for me, okay, Natalie?”
“Got a quarter?” Natalie said, grinning.
“If you do it right, I’ll give you a dollar.”
Natalie held out her hand. “That’s a deal. Pay me.”
“Not until you bring her back safe and sound.”
“Meanie.”
“Just a smart businesswoman.”
Natalie stretched across the console and her mother’s torso, her hand still held out.
Ellis slapped her palm against Natalie’s. “Have fun.” She eased back and rested her forearms on the open window.
“I will. I hope Gramma Anna got me what I asked for.”
Mary said, “Nat—”
“I know, I know. Christmas isn’t about presents.” Natalie fussed with readjusting her seatbelt and crossed her arms across her chest. “But I still hope she got what I told her I wanted.”
“Really, we’ve got to go.”
Ellis backed away from the car, and Mary shifted into reverse.
Ellis waved as Mary maneuvered down the short driveway. “Merry Christmas, MaryChris Moss.” Ellis fought the lump in her throat as she spoke.
“Merry Christmas, Gretchen,” Mary called out the car window. She hesitated. “I love you.”
In all their many conversations, Ellis had never heard those words from Mary before. The SUV was on the street and pulling away before they registered with her, too late for her to say them back.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
“How’s everything going up there?” Ellis pressed the phone tight against her ear, hoping it would make her feel like Mary wasn’t a hundred miles away.
“No wonder the suicide rate jumps during the holidays. Whoever said this is the most wonderful time of the year never spent the weekend before Christmas incarcerated at Anna Moss’s house.”
“How’d you get out?”
“Mother needed more pecans and cranberries for her special Christmas morning bread, and I raced out the door to get them before anyone else could beat me to it. I’ve just spent almost an hour in line at the Ingles Market to procure one of the last bags of cranberries in town.”
“Poor baby. Sounds like hard time on the rock.”
“Don’t mess with me, VanStantvoordt. I know where you live and where you’re staying. I can hurt you—and your dog, too.”
“You really are in a bad mood.”
“Merry freakin’ Christmas.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
“Yes, but I don’t have time to right now.”
“Can I get a preview, at least?”
“My big-mouthed daughter, aided and abetted by my well-intentioned but clueless ex-husband, has given my mother enough ammunition to do her version of the assault on the Alamo.”
“And your role?”
“Davy Crockett, but instead of a coonskin cap, mine’s made of live skunk, and instead of Betsy the trusted musket, I’ve got a Betsy-Wetsie doll.”
“Sounds awful.”
“It is, and there’s still five more days to go before I can tunnel out and make my escape to freedom.”
“How can I help?”
“Will you hold me when I get home?”
The wave of desire that welled in Ellis caught her off-guard. “You know I will.”
“Then I’ll keep that image in my mind and sneak some fortified eggnog over the next few days and do everything I can to avoid being trapped alone with my mother.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve complicated your life, Mary.”
“Don’t you ever say that to me again. I mean it.”
Ellis thought she detected tears in Mary’s words. “Okay, I just meant—”
“I know what you meant, but you need to get clear on something right now. These three days away from you have showed me how much I want to be with you. I know I haven’t done any of the things a real lover should do, but when I get back to Atlanta, I’m going to fix that.”
Ellis nearly jammed the phone inside her ear canal. The spontaneous burst of warmth in her pelvic region made her weak in the knees.
“You’ll help me learn how, won’t you El?”
“Yes, sweetheart. We’ll take as long as you need. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“Right now I need you to let me get off this phone and slide back into the flames of hell, but when I get home on Saturday—”
“Come home Friday, Mary. Better yet, come home now.”
“I wish I could, but I’ve got to do Christmas at Mother’s tomorrow and then Nat goes with Nathan for two days at his parents’.”
“So you come home tomorrow and let Nathan bring her back with him.”
“It’s not that simple. Nathan’s not coming back to Atlanta right away. He says he’s got things he needs to do up here, but I haven’t a clue what that means. Besides, my mother would never understand why I’d rather be in Atlanta than here with her.”
“Oh.” The word hung like an icicle.
“I’m sorry, Ellis. Christmas is a super big deal to my mother. It won’t always be like this. I swear.”
“Okay. I was just wishing out loud.”
“I can’t wait to make your wishes come true.”
Again, Ellis had to will herself to stay standing, and it had nothing to do with her old ankle injury.
“You still there, El?”
“Yes, but I’d rather be with you.”
“
Me, too. Soon, babe.”
“Not soon enough.”
“I gotta go. I probably won’t be able to call you again until Wednesday.”
“I understand. I hate it, but I understand.”
“Thanks. I almost forgot to ask, is everything okay with Sam and Swiffer and your foot?”
“If you don’t count missing you, the three of us are fine.”
“Good.” Mary sighed loudly. “Ellis, I—”
“Let me say it first this time. I love you, Mary. Come home.”
“Love you, too. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Bye for now.”
Ellis cradled the phone against her chest and let Mary’s words echo in her heart. At last she had her own MaryChris Moss miracle, and just in time for a Merry Christmas, too.
∗ ∗ ∗ ∗
Ensconced on the sofa, Ellis read another of Mary’s articles in the back issues of Georgia Life magazine. She’d come across a stack of them next to Mary’s computer in the third bedroom and decided it was a perfect way to learn more about the woman she’d fallen in love with. It was only December twenty-sixth, so she still had three days to fill before Mary and Natalie’s return from Clarkesville.
Ellis found Mary’s writing style to be the perfect blend of crisp exposition and evocative metaphor. Even her articles about yawn-worthy topics like what peanut farmers do with the shells from their legumes proved to be entertaining as well as informative. (Kitty litter, wallboard, animal feed, paper, and fireplace logs. Who knew?)
Ellis set the magazine aside and glanced toward the picture window. Jolly Old Saint Stickalus still stood there in all his outlandish glory.
Christmas.
As best she could tell, it was more a marketing ploy than a holiday. Even when she was a child, her mother’s infirmity meant that celebrations were low-key, almost nonexistent. Nicolas and Anika, her brother and sister who were more like strangers than family, were so much older than she, that she had no memories of her family gathered around a tree, anticipating an exuberant opening of gifts or of joyful dinners with friends and family. Then there were her college years—the years immediately following her mother’s death—years when she stayed away from Savannah because it was easier to be alone than to face the unspoken accusation that she was responsible for her mother’s demise. Ellis had, after all, pleaded with her mother to attend the high school’s outdoor graduation ceremony. Nicolas and Anika never said so in as many words, but she knew they blamed her, and not only for their mother’s early grave, but also for the even more pronounced reclusiveness of their father following her passing.
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