Jennifer Greene - Wintergreen

Freda handed her another part. “You know damned well you don’t really want to be alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Johnny.”

“You’ve got circles under your eyes. You’re trying like hell to keep a smile on your face. You’re gaunt and haggard.” Freda took a quick breath.

Lorna glanced toward the kitchen, delighted at the sound of the children’s laughter. “Dammit. I’ll have to get a refund on that erase-circles makeup. I paid a fortune for it.”

“He used you,” Freda accused roughly.

Lorna sat up, snapped the thirteenth part into place and stared at Freda. “No one,” she said softly, “used me. He was perfectly wonderful to me, Freda. Don’t think that. And stop worrying. Why on earth are you wasting all this time worrying? ” she asked irritably. “I’m fine. Do you think I haven’t coped with worse situations than this?”

Freda sat back, silent, and handed Lorna the parts to the silly Zoid. Gradually, the plastic form achieved its shape. Lorna spent all her concentration on the trivial task, and refused to think about anything else.

She had no intention of crying. It was Christmas. Holidays made some people cry. She wasn’t going to be one of those…

One part of her scolded, but…well, there was another part. The relationship with Matthew couldn’t have gone on. Every time she bought something from a male clerk; every time she spoke with a man at a party; every time she laughed with a repairman, she would wonder if Matthew was suspicious of her. Richard would have been. Richard had been. She’d never been able to breathe in front of a masculine person without Richard being jealous and suspicious. She could not get involved with someone who didn’t trust her. Though Matthew had said the past didn’t matter to him, she would forever have walked the plank of uncertainty, would never have been able to convince him that she had never been promiscuous, that she’d had no affairs, that Johnny was of his blood-the things that mattered deeply to her. Matthew could not understand her, not in the way that counted, if he didn’t understand what she had been through. Being sentenced without a trial, the desperate need she had for his trust, the fears that made up her nightmares…

“ Mom! C’mere!”

Freda clicked her tongue as Lorna rapidly brushed away the single tear on her cheek and got to her feet.

“This is going to be a perfectly wonderful day,” she told Freda.

“How I hate men.” Freda more slowly uncoiled herself and then dropped back down on the carpet. “I’ll finish this Zoid. I have a feeling you’ll have more than you can handle in the kitchen.”

Lorna didn’t mind the chaos in the kitchen. She applauded the rainbow of smoke spouting from the paper volcano, laughed at Johnny’s triumphant smile. They had raided her cupboard for baking soda, evidently a necessary ingredient for volcanoes. There was a trail of it on the floor.

Candles were flickering in the windowsills, red and green, scenting the kitchen with cinnamon and pine. More ornaments hung from her windows, hard candies that reflected the light like stained glass. The turkey was still defrosting on the counter, now surrounded by a variety of vials from Johnny’s chemistry set. Some tinsel had made its way to the floor; a strand of it lay on her son’s shoulder, another in Brian’s hair. A second tiny Christmas tree was perched on the far corner of the kitchen table, just a foot high, decorated with ribbons and bows… Lorna had two more artificial trees in the other rooms. She’d told Johnny before he was old enough to walk that it was impossible to have enough Christmas in the house…

“Can you believe it?” Johnny demanded, looking at his lopsided volcano.

“You’re a genius,” Lorna agreed, ruffling his tousled hair affectionately. “In the meantime, do you think there’s a chance that either of you geniuses might condescend to pick up a bit?”

“What does condescend mean?” Brian asked Johnny.

“She just means move it.”

“I have no intention of leaving you with this mess,” Freda said stoutly.

Lorna held up her friend’s coat. “Don’t be silly. It looks lots worse than it is, and the two of us have all day.” She hugged Freda and then little Brian, and the Noonans scooted out the door, destined to be at least a few minutes late for their family Christmas gathering.

Lorna’s smile had been bright for Freda, and it remained bright as she turned back to Johnny…and the disaster zone of the living room. The sea of wrapping paper and ribbons and discarded boxes was at high tide. Something to do, she insisted to herself, and in the meantime she would determinedly pull herself together and stop feeling these ridiculous waves of aching loneliness.

“The thing is,” Johnny said, “to get it all located in one place.”

“Exactly.” Her eyebrows rose at the unexpected comment. Housekeeping had never been Johnny’s métier. “It won’t take us long, kiddo. Then maybe we can take ourselves outside for a good long walk in the snow and a look at the Christmas lights.”

As she bent over to gather up some bows, she felt something light and solid hit her backside. Pivoting, she saw a flash of color hit her in the stomach. “Johnny!”

He was bunching up wads of wrapping paper into balls and pelting her with them. Another three missiles hit her while her jaw was still gaping. “I’m just getting it all in one place, Mom. Stand still. At the same time that we get the room fixed up again, I can get my aim down just right.”

“Why, you little-”

She tossed one back; that made him giggle. It had landed five feet from him in the Christmas tree. Obviously, she had to try another.

“At least try to hit me!”

“I am! ”

When the doorbell rang, Lorna was laughing. Amid a bombardment of colored-paper balls and streaming ribbons, she made her way, protesting, to the door. Hurriedly, she tried to brush a cellophane ribbon out of her hair as she opened the door. Freezing air suddenly rushed into her lungs, and the brilliance of sun on snow momentarily blinded her. Not for long. She didn’t need to see Matthew to know his laughter, to recognize the touch of his hand. He plucked the ribbon from her hair and leaned forward to tease her lips ever so lightly with the frosty smoothness of his own. “Merry Christmas, Misha.”

For just an instant, her heart stilled. Only for a moment. The sadness haunting her eyes abruptly shimmered tremulously, trying to escape all at once in two huge tears as she threw her arms around him. “You didn’t call, damn you!” she whispered. “Matthew, I…”

His eyes glinted past her, even as his arms were drawing her close. “Merry Christmas, Johnny! I found a package under my tree this morning with your name on it…” Lorna would have at least drawn back slightly, suddenly aware of her son standing so still, but Matthew wouldn’t let her. He cradled her close with one arm, and extended the shiny scarlet package with the other.

“Thank you,” Johnny said uncertainly. But he didn’t take it. “Matthew, I didn’t know I was supposed to buy you a present.”

“Because you weren’t. This isn’t even new, Johnny, I just thought you might like it.”

Johnny took another look at the long, powerful arm around his mother, but resentment was clearly doing battle with simple curiosity. Slowly, he came forward and took Matthew’s gift. “Can I open it?”

“I can’t imagine why not.”

While Johnny was very carefully removing the wrappings, Matthew took off his coat. “I missed you,” he mouthed silently. His hand reached up to touch her cheek, his thumb moving slowly back and forth on her soft skin. She leaned her cheek into the cradle of his palm. As if a huge bubble had suddenly filled her soul, she felt lighthearted, champagne-high. Matthew had understood her the other night. He would not have come back if he didn’t believe her. She could see the love in his eyes.