Читать книгу Finding Christmas - Gail Martin Gaymer - Страница 9

Headlights glinted off the snow, and Benjamin squinted to shield his eyes from the glare. He had a headache. His feelings had knotted throughout the evening like a noose. Joanne seemed troubled. He recalled she’d seen a therapist after the accident, and maybe it was time for her to have a therapy booster shot.

Yet that wasn’t all that concerned him. Joanne had grown even more beautiful since he’d seen her at the funeral. Maturity and grief had added lines to her face, making her more real, more vulnerable, and the look touched him deeply.

As they’d talked this evening, his mind had journeyed back to that horrible night when Joanne called him. He had barely grasped what she’d told him through her sobs. Greg and Mandy drowned. No, he’d thought. The police have to be wrong. They made a mistake, he’d told himself over and over as he raced to her house through snowfall so similar to tonight’s.

But they hadn’t been wrong. The next morning Greg’s body had been found in icy Lake St. Clair, his still belted into his car. And Mandy…the divers never found her.

Pain knifed Benjamin’s heart at the thought. The beautiful child gone, her car seat still attached to the back seat, the belt unbuckled…The police said she must have disappeared through a partially opened window. The horror of it washed over him now, as icy as Lake St. Clair must have been. If he still felt the powerful emotion of Mandy’s death, he couldn’t imagine what Joanne must feel.

He drew in a ragged breath and tried to push the vision of that night from his mind. His headache thumped in his temples, and he pushed his fingers against one side to ease the ache.

Everything had seemed confused tonight. For years, he’d had strong feelings for Joanne, but he’d controlled them. She was his good friend’s wife—charming, amiable and lovely. Her mothering skills had amazed him. When Mandy was born, it seemed as though God had created Joanne for motherhood.

Though Greg had worked long hours, Joanne had never complained. She had done all she could to support his career and still have interests of her own. She’d been active at church and had participated in community drives and so many activities, Benjamin was amazed. He had always admired her, but then one day, he realized that Joanne also had begun to fill his dreams.

He felt ashamed when he finally admitted to himself that he was attracted to his best friend’s wife. The emotions had sneaked up on him. He’d thought his admiration was friendship, but it had become far more than that. He’d prayed, asking God to help him find a solution. Benjamin couldn’t stop being Greg’s friend without an explanation, and he couldn’t avoid Joanne if he was Greg’s friend.

The answer came at the law firm with the out-of-state project. He’d jumped at it. After Greg’s death, he left his heart in Detroit and moved to Seattle, built a life there. Women came and went, but no one captured his heart. He left the problem in God’s hands—he hadn’t known what else to do.

Now, project completed, he was back home where he belonged, and the same problem faced him. How could he be Joanne’s friend when he wanted so much more?

Donna Angelo stood inside the bedroom door and looked at her stepdaughter nestled in bed. Connie’s deep breathing assured Donna she was asleep. Her heart eased at the sight of the child so warm and cozy. Donna hadn’t felt warm and cozy for a long time.

She stepped into the hallway and closed Connie’s bedroom door. If her husband came home tonight with too much to drink and more ranting, she hoped Connie wouldn’t hear the noise. The child needed to sleep in peace—something rare for their household.

No matter how many times Donna waded through the details, she could never figure out when it had happened. She guessed their problems had begun slowly and built into a frightening undertone in their relationship.

Donna’s hands trembled as she headed down the long hallway to the kitchen. She wanted to have Carl’s plate ready when he arrived, hoped that the scent of food would make him less irritable. She rubbed her upper arm, feeling the tenderness resulting from last night’s fiasco.

Most every evening, Carl arrived home late. Sometimes he smelled of liquor, but she’d learned not to say anything. He always insisted his business had kept him out late. She never understood why the owner of a trucking company didn’t have someone who worked the night shift.

Then, when she caught sight of his duffel bag filled with hundred-dollar bills, she’d begun to wonder if the business fronted something illegal—but Donna knew better than to ask questions.

Yet tonight she had questions, not about his business, but about a restraining order she’d found in an old metal box in a basement storage closet. Why had his first wife obtained an order to keep him away? Had he knocked her around, too? Finally she decided the order had to mean Carl and his wife had separated. Yet Donna knew that Carl had been a widower. Nothing made sense. She wasn’t sure she could hold back her curiosity—although if she had any brains, she would.

The garage door rumbled open, and Donna hurried to the refrigerator. Before the door had opened, she’d popped Carl’s meal into the microwave. She hoped he would be in one of his rare good moods tonight.

When the back door opened, she glanced toward the sound.

Carl lumbered inside and tossed his keys on the counter by the door. “What you gawkin’ at?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She rubbed the bruise on her arm and studied his expression. Then she turned away to pull his salad from the refrigerator.

What had happened to the man she’d met? Carl—a widower with a small child—had swept her off her feet. Her heart had gone out to the little girl. Connie had seemed so timid, and Donna had realized the loss of a mother must have been devastating for the child.

When they’d met, Carl had shown Donna a good time. Though unpolished in many ways, he knew about fine restaurants and bought her expensive gifts, and before she knew it, he’d asked her to marry him. The courtship had been too short, Donna realized now.

The buzzer sounded on the microwave, and Donna opened the door and carried the plate to the table. Carl didn’t look up. He grabbed the fork and speared a hunk of beef.

“Get me a beer,” he said between chews.

Donna opened her mouth to tell him he shouldn’t drink so much. Then she closed it. One of her Christian friends had told her how much better her life had become since she and her husband had accepted Jesus, and Donna longed to share that with Carl. If he stopped drinking and developed a personal relationship with the Lord, maybe he’d stop pushing her around.

Knowing today wasn’t the day to make the suggestion, Donna retrieved the beer, snapped open the lid and set it beside his plate. She pulled out a chair and joined him, hoping he’d ask about Connie.

For a father, Carl showed little interest in his daughter. And that wasn’t all that bothered Donna. She could handle being pushed around, but sometimes he got rough with Connie. Nothing terrible, but just too threatening, and Donna felt fear each time she thought about what he could do to a six-year-old.

Carl finally lifted his head and focused on her. His eyes narrowed. “What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing. I just thought we’d talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything, Carl. Talk like most husbands and wives do. Tell me about your day.”

He snorted and dug into another piece of meat. “You want money, I suppose?”

She did. She wanted lots of money. Then she could take Connie and go far away where no one could find them. “No. That’s not what I was thinking, but it would help if I had a little pocket money.”

“I earn the money, and I pay the bills,” Carl said. “If you need some cash, ask me. Don’t I give you enough for groceries.”

Donna knew she was on dangerous ground. “Yes, but if I need clothes or—”

“Why do you need clothes? You don’t go anywhere.”

That wasn’t what she wanted. “A credit card would be nice.” She held her breath.

Carl’s hate-filled eyes sought hers. “You women are all alike—money-grubbing, unappreciative wenches. You and my mother. She drove my father to drink, and then he’d take it out on…”

The determined set of his jaw warned Donna she was in trouble. His hand snapped out, but she ducked back and he missed her.

“I don’t need anything, Carl.” Her voice pierced the air, and she feared Connie could hear them. “I—I just wish you’d come home earlier so you could spend time with Connie. She hardly knows you anymore.”

“That’s your job. Why do you think I married you?”

His caustic remark felt like a punch in her belly, and Donna drew back. “I thought you loved me,” she said, now realizing her belief was a fairy tale.

“You thought wrong,” he spat. “You’re the housekeeper and baby-sitter. I don’t even want to look at you.”

She calculated he wasn’t drunk tonight, just spiteful and he hadn’t hit her. Now seemed her best chance of having her curiosity answered about what she’d seen in the basement. “I found a paper in the basement today.”

His head shot upward. “What kind of paper?”

“A restraining order—a permanent order to keep you from going near Connie and her mother. What was that about? I thought you and—”

His fist smashed down on the table, lifting the plate from the surface and sending his butter knife clattering to the floor. He snatched it up and pointed it at her.

“Carl, I’m just confused. You said you were a widower, but if you and she weren’t together, then why do you have custody now?”

He leaned across the table and poked the knife at her chest. “Are you stupid? Her mother’s dead—and that’s where you’re going to be if you don’t quit snooping. Why were you in the basement? Stay out of there.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for my stuff, and I have to go there to do the laundry.” The look in his eye frightened her. “I suppose the question was stupid. Where else would Connie go but with her father?”

“Connie can go to her grave with you for all I care. You’re both a weight around my neck. Women are worthless.”

He eased the knife away from her chest, and Donna caught her breath. Another question about his name nudged her, but she wouldn’t ask, not if she wanted to live another day. “I can heat up some more stew.”

“It’s garbage,” he said, giving the plate an angry shove across the table. “Anyway, who can eat with your puss gapin’ at me?”

She started to say she was sorry again, but stopped herself. Donna wasn’t sorry. She’d put up with too much, and if she didn’t love Connie so much, she’d pack her bags and leave. If only Connie were her child, they could make their escape together—but she had no rights.

For the sake of Connie, she was stuck.

“So who was your friend last night?” Nita Wolfe asked.

Joanne swiveled in her desk chair and faced her co-worker, who was standing in her office doorway. Nita was one of those women with a good heart and the spirit of Cupid. If Joanne spent too much time talking with the copy machine repairman, Nita assumed it was a budding romance.

“Actually, an old friend of Greg’s,” she said.

Nita’s conspiratorial expression shriveled to one of disappointment. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. He’s a longtime friend who’s been away. Now he’s back in town.”

Nita perked up as she moved closer. “Married?”

“No.”

“Aha.” Nita raised her eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just never know what God has in store.” She put her hand on Joanne’s shoulder. “You’re too young to be alone the rest of your life.”

“Thanks for the wisdom, Nita, but I can handle my life just fine.” Even as she said the words, Joanne admitted to herself that her life was lacking. She’d made a valiant effort to move on in every area but relationships.

A movement in the doorway caught Joanne’s eye. She followed Melissa Shafer’s entrance into the office, noted the woman’s eyes shifting from one side to the other. Joanne guessed her motive.

“Am I interrupting?” Melissa asked, giving Nita a look.

“Not at all. We were just talking,” Joanne said.

“Just wanted to see what you did to the office.” She wandered behind the desk and gazed out the large window overlooking the Detroit skyline. “It’s nice to have real sunlight.”

Joanne opened her mouth to apologize and then closed it. Recently, they had both been interviewed for the same position. Joanne had been given the promotion. “It’s nice, but I’m not sure it’s worth the added work and worry.”

Melissa grinned. “You worry? Never. You’re too cool and collected, Joanne.” She glided away from the window. “Well, congratulations. You made an impression and I didn’t. No hard feelings.”

“Thanks,” Joanne said, amazed at Melissa’s understanding.

Melissa strutted back to the doorway and paused. “You can get back to business.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave and vanished into the hallway.

Nita’s eyebrows arched. “I like the inflection. I suppose she assumed we were talking about her.” Then she grinned. “I bet you did make a better impression during the interview.”

Joanne shrugged, already wanting to forget the conversation. “By the way, here’s the novel I said I’d loan you.” She opened her desk drawer and pulled out the book she’d brought from home. “It’s a good story, and a nice way to spend a quiet evening.”

Nita skimmed the novel cover for a minute, then lowered the book and studied Joanne’s face. “All joking aside, you look stressed. What happened? Did your friend have bad news?” She settled her hip against the edge of the desk and ran her finger along a picture frame propped beside Joanne’s telephone.

Joanne’s gaze rested on the photograph she’d taken of Greg and Mandy at the Detroit Zoo in front of the bear fountain. The sunlight played on Mandy’s blond halo of curls, and Joanne felt a tug on her heart at the memory.

“It’s a lot of things,” she said, “but nothing that Benjamin said.”

“Benjamin? He was your midnight visitor?” Nita sent her a perky smile.

“He left at nine.”

Nita chuckled. “I’m only teasing.”

Joanne drew in a long breath and tilted her head toward the frame. “Three years ago today the accident happened.”

Nita’s focus shifted to the photograph. She lifted it from the desk and studied the picture, then replaced it with sorrow in her eyes. “Oh, honey,” she said, leaning over to give Joanne a hug, “I’m sorry. Here I am pulling your leg, and you’re really upset.”

Joanne wanted to tell her that her upset was about more than the anniversary date, but she hesitated. “Don’t worry about it,” she said finally. “I’ve had other things on my mind, too.” Still, maybe Nita would understand. She looked into her friend’s serious face. “Do you believe in—” She paused trying to find a word that made sense. “In premonition?”

Nita looked puzzled. “You mean like a sixth sense?”

“Sort of.”

“Women’s intuition?”

“A little more than that.”

“A little more, how?” Nita rested her hands on the desk and leaned closer. “What’s going on?”

“Voices?”

The word caused Nita to draw back. She straightened, as if she thought Joanne had lost her mind.

Joanne wondered herself. “Not really voices. A feeling. It’s in here.” She pressed her hand against her heart.

“You’re hearing things?”

“I’m not crazy, Nita. The voice is like a child crying for help.”

Nita’s gaze didn’t waver.

“It’s Mandy’s voice.” Joanne heard Nita’s sudden intake of air.

“Mandy’s? Are you sure?”

“I’ll never forget my child’s cry. Never.”

“But she’s…”

“Dead, I know.” Joanne’s heart sank. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I’m hearing it. I keep asking myself what it means.”

“I have no idea what it means, but I think you should get back into counseling. I’m sure these things happen. Hopefully it’ll pass.”

Joanne shrugged, feeling defeated. “Maybe.” No one seemed to truly understand, not even Benjamin.

“Grief is a strange emotion,” Nita said. “It manifests itself in so many ways, and just when you think it’s conquered, it rises up again with a vengeance. You need to keep busy until the anniversary and the holidays pass. They’re difficult times of the year.”

“You’re right. After the accident, I lost the joy of Christmas…and my life.” Joanne tried to smile but her face felt frozen in a frown. “I need to get a new one.”

Nita chuckled. “Sounds like you gave it a start last night. You had one pleasant distraction over for a visit.”

“Don’t start that again. F-R-I-E-N-D. Put those letters together.” Joanne gave her a swat. “Get out of here. I have work to do.”

Nita edged her hip off the desk. “I came in here for a reason. Feel like Christmas shopping tonight?”

“Not tonight. Benjamin called a few minutes ago, and I invited him over tonight. How about next week?”

“Certainly,” Nita said with a grin. “I’d pass up shopping any day for that.”

Joanne realized she would, too. A sweet sensation wove through her chest. Having Benjamin around made her feel comfortable. He reminded her of the good days when things were normal. No voices. No deaths. Tonight she was eager to have some laughs. If Benjamin did nothing more than give her a few hours of peace, she’d be eternally grateful.

After Nita waved and left, Joanne tried to pull her focus back to her work, but lost the battle. Her child’s cries remained in her thoughts.

She angled her chair to face the computer screen and hit the e-mail button. A list of messages appeared. She saw one that made her smile and opened it.

Hi. Hope you slept well. It was so good to see you last night. Almost like old times. I’ll be in touch. I’m looking forward to it. I hope you are. Benjamin

The note warmed her heart, and she let her gaze linger on it for a moment before skimming the other addresses. Most of them were business e-mails but there was one she didn’t recognize—Shadow@123go.com. Curious, she hit the read button.

YOU THINK YOU HAVE EVERYTHING.

WELL YOU DON’T.

The capital letters shouted at her, and she peered at the words again, not understanding the meaning. A strange feeling came over her again.

What did the warning mean? She didn’t have everything. She’d lost everything she loved.