Gail Martin - Finding Christmas

“I think that’s what they mean by blowing into town,” he said, sliding off his jacket.

Joanne laughed. “I should have told you not to come over tonight.”

“No, I should have taken you out. There’s a nice rhythm and blues group at the Java Café. You’d probably enjoy them.”

“I might,” she said, motioning him into the living room.

He went ahead of her and settled into a recliner, then clicked up the footrest while she sank into a comfy chair nearby. “I hope you wanted me to make myself at home.”

She grinned again. Benjamin always seemed at home when he visited. He was the kind of easygoing guy she admired.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, eyes turned to the window.

“It’s snowing again,” she said finally. “The ski resorts must be thrilled.”

“I’m sure.”

Her gaze drifted to him, and she realized he was studying her. His look left her uneasy. “Is something wrong?”

He gave a quick nod. “I’m just thinking about you.”

“Me?”

“You and the voice. How’s it going?”

Again she didn’t like the flippant way he asked, but she knew he hadn’t meant it to sound callous. “I haven’t called the shrink yet, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, not that,” he said, scrutinizing her, “but something else happened today.”

“Yes, it did,” she replied, wondering how he could tell. “This time at work.”

“A phone call?”

“No. An e-mail. It was strange.”

“Strange how?”

She told him about the message and how edgy it had made her.

“It’s the same as a wrong telephone number. It’s easy to mix up an e-mail address. I’d guess it wasn’t meant for you.”

“Probably.” She pushed her uncomfortable thoughts aside.

“And it wasn’t really a threat, but just in case, save it when you’re at work tomorrow.”

“Why, if it’s nothing?”

“I’ll mention it to my detective friend Hank Cortezi and see what he thinks.”

“No. Don’t.” Panic settled in her chest. “I’ve already made a fool of myself. Let’s drop it. I’m sure it was sent to me by mistake.”

Benjamin leaned closer, his face strained. “I’m worried about you, Joanne.”

“I’m trying to reconcile myself to what it means, Benjamin. I know the snow, the holidays, make me nostalgic. It’s happened every year since they’ve been gone. The year they died I’d gone Christmas shopping early, and I buried some of Mandy’s Christmas presents in her casket.” Sorrow weighed on her again. “Every year, I remember…I want to forget.”

“It’s natural. Each year will get better.”

“That’s what I thought, but this year is worse.” She leaned toward him. “If I tell you something, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

“No, I won’t.”

“I think the voice is a warning of some kind.”

His face twisted into a puzzled expression. “Like a premonition.”

“Sort of, but more than that.”

“You’re sure it’s Mandy’s voice.”

“Yes. A mother knows her child’s voice, and she senses when her child is in danger.”

“Yes, but—”

“Wait.” She held up a finger and hurried into her bedroom to find her Bible. Last night she’d been reading the Christmas story, and when she’d seen the Scripture, the message validated her previous thoughts and bolstered her sense of sanity. It had been a blessing. Clutching the Book, she returned to the living room and plunked herself into the chair.

“It’s right here,” she said, flipping through the pages. “It’s in the Christmas story in 2 Luke. ‘All who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.’ Mary knew Jesus would face trials. It reassured me. Mothers feel things about their kids. I sense my daughter needs me, Benjamin.”

“I’m not going to disagree with you. I just don’t want you to worry about what it means. I think it’s the time of year. I truly think the voice will pass.”

The dinner she’d eaten churned in her stomach, and Joanne could only shake her head. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

“You need to cheer up, Joanne. Let’s do something different. Let’s go…” He paused, thinking, then grinned. “How about shopping? Ladies love to shop.”

“But men don’t, and anyway, I promised to go Christmas shopping with Nita.”

His face brightened as if relieved. “Okay, that saves me from a fate worse than…” He didn’t finish but chuckled instead. “Let’s decorate. It’s almost Thanksgiving. It’s never too early to put up a wreath and set out some holiday candles.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he’d already stood.

“Where do you keep all that stuff?”

“I haven’t been doing much with that since—”

“Time you did,” he said. He moved to face her and held out his hands.

Joanne couldn’t bear to dampen his enthusiasm. She grasped his hands and let him pull her to her feet. “It’s in the attic.” She pointed upward.

“One of those holes in the ceiling?” His tone reflected his fading eagerness.

“This decorating business wasn’t my idea,” she said.

He grinned. “Where is it?” He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face the archway.

Joanne led him into her walk-in bedroom closet and pointed to the drop-down ladder. “I’ll go with you so you know what to bring down.”

She snapped on the light from below while Benjamin climbed the ladder, then gave her a hand. At the top, she stood while he hunched to avoid the low ceiling.

She beckoned to him, and they moved across the plank floor to a pile of boxes. “It’s all here. Some of it’s labeled, but that’s not always accurate.”

In the gloomy light, they lifted lids and checked contents, and soon, they were lowering a few of the cartons to the floor below. Once the trap door was closed, Joanne piled three boxes into Benjamin’s arms, then took one for herself, and they carried them into the living room.

Joanne sat on the floor and Benjamin joined her, and together they opened the boxes and checked the contents. Soon Christmas candles, window wreaths, and garland for the fireplace lined the floor around them.

“What’s this?” Benjamin asked.

Joanne looked up and caught her breath. “It’s Floppy.” She reached out and grasped the plush, loopy-eared dog. “It was Mandy’s favorite toy. She slept with him every night.” Tears welled in her eyes as the scene rose before her—Mandy’s blond hair pressed against the pillow and Floppy nestled beside her.

Benjamin shifted nearer and opened his arms to her. “I’m sorry. I thought doing this might be a way to—”

He stopped talking, and she rested her head against his strong shoulder, accepting his comforting arms. “It’s not your fault,” she said, once she’d regained control. She eased back and pressed the dog against her chest. “I’d forgotten I’d put him in with the Christmas stuff. We had the ornaments out to decorate, before I got the call that—” She stopped. Benjamin understood; she didn’t need to explain.

She lowered the plush toy into her lap and brushed her fingers along its fake fur. “I’d planned to bury Floppy along with the Christmas toys, but…I couldn’t.”

“I understand.”

“I couldn’t, because I kept wanting to think it wasn’t true, that they were wrong. I wanted the doorbell to ring and, when I answered, a police officer to be there with Mandy in his arms, but it didn’t happen.”

Benjamin only looked at her, his eyes so sad she wished she hadn’t told him.

“Maybe this year will be a breakthrough,” she said. “It could be.”