The Christmas Promise (Christmas Hope) (3 page)

He took a long drink. Outside the door he heard a couple with a small child maneuvering a Christmas tree through the breezeway. “Wait, wait, wait,” the woman shouted. “I can’t go that fast!”

The man bellowed a laugh and the child giggled. “What are you doing back there?” the man said.

“I swear something just fell out of the tree and crawled on me,” the woman shrieked. More laughter from the happy family. Chaz turned on the TV to drown them out. Why had he come to this town? Now it seemed like a stupid idea. He was better off working job to job instead of committing to something long-term, especially this close to Christmas, which was a day he endured at best. The couple shoved the tree through their front door to more peals of laughter. He opened another beer and stared at the TV screen. This town was no better than the last, and nothing could make him stay. Unlike his parents, he could never see the rays of hope or sprigs of life clinging to devastation. At least that’s what he thought.

I ran down the stairs pulling a red sweatshirt with a Christmas tree on it over my head. “Hold on! I’m coming!” The phone rang again. I always tried to answer by the third ring before it went to voice mail. “Get out of the way, Whiskers.” The cat jumped from his spot on the bottom step and ran in front of me to the kitchen.

“Miss Glory, they shut off my electricity.” It was Carla Sanchez.

“Why’d they do that?” I asked, catching my breath.

“I was late paying….”

“How late?”

“Just a few days,” Carla said.

“They don’t shut off your electricity if you’re just a few days late. How late?”

“Almost three months. But I got a job now. I’m down at Wilson’s just like you said. They still had the sign in the window when I went down and they hired me just like that.”

“How’s Donovan?” I asked.

“He’s good.”

“What’d he eat for breakfast?” There was silence on the other end. “What’s he going to eat for lunch?” More silence followed. “Let me see what I can do.” I hung up the phone before dialing the number for the church I attended. “Linda, it’s Gloria. Can I talk with Rod?” I joined the church six years ago, shortly after moving to town to be closer to my oldest daughter, who’d had a baby. The church was always the first to help when I needed something for my work, but I was careful not to take advantage of their good graces. I listened to Christmas music until Rod picked up his line. “How are you, Rod?”

“Great,” he said. “What’s happening, Gloria?”

Rod was always willing to listen. “I have a single mom who needs help,” I said. I explained Carla’s circumstances and waited.

“How much is the bill?” Rod asked.

He said he’d have a check made out to the electric company waiting at the church and told me about a car that had been donated to the church. “It came in a few days ago,” he said. “The title work is taken care of and someone is bringing it to you today or tomorrow.” I had been in Rod’s office years earlier when a car had been donated to the church. A family with whom I worked was in dire need, and the church and I struck up a working relationship.

Something caught my eye in the driveway and I pushed back the curtain, clapping. “It’s already here,” I said. “Thanks so much, Rod. Talk to you soon.” I hung up the phone and pressed close to the window. “Well look at that! She’s a beauty.” I bolted for the door and pulled on a pair of knee-length yellow rubber boots with tops that folded down to reveal blue wool inside. One pant leg stayed hoisted above the boot but I didn’t care. “That’s a Chevy, isn’t it? Silver. I’ll call her the Silver Fox.” I swung open the driver’s side door and slid inside, turning the key. The engine grinded and I waited. I turned the key again and the engine wheezed before choking quiet. “I’ll get somebody out here to take a look at you ASAP,” I said, patting the steering wheel.

I hustled back up the porch stairs and picked up the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number for my mechanic. “Jerry? It’s Gloria. Somebody left a Chevy that looks about eight or so years old. Would you have any time to look at it?” I looked out the window and examined the car.

“Midge and I are headed out of town today,” Jerry said. “Her father had a stroke and is in the hospital. I don’t know when we’ll be back, but I can look at it then.”

“I’m so sorry, Jerry. Don’t even think about it.”

I hung up and pulled out the yellow pages, turning to “car repair,” but then I threw the book on the table. “I can’t think about that now.” There just weren’t enough hours in the day. I flew to the garage.

Every wall was lined with shelves that held food items, pots and pans, dishware, towels, and supplies such as toilet tissue and paper towels. In the middle of the floor were racks of clothing sorted by size. I rummaged through the shelves and loaded peanut butter, crackers, soup, rice, and cereal into a box.

The electric garage door had long been blocked with shelves, so I lugged the box back into the kitchen. I slipped on my coat, the soft jean jacket one with huge patchwork pockets on the front, then pulled a yellow wool hat down over my ears. Heddy said the boots and the hat together made me look like Big Bird, but I was warm so I didn’t care.

I wanted to add milk, eggs, and bread to the box of food for Carla, so I made a stop at the local grocery. My daughter Stephanie called me while I was in the store; she usually checked in with me two to three times a week. “How’s your week?” she asked.

“Great, except Rikki Huffman is in jail for drug possession,” I said.

She sighed on the other end. “I’m sorry, Mom. You did all you could.”

I grabbed a gallon of milk off the shelf. “That’s what Heddy said.” I reached for a dozen eggs and put them in my basket.

“What are you doing today?” Stephanie asked.

“Just seeing to some things,” I said.

“Seeing Matt in every face?” she said, referring to my youngest son.

I tossed bread into my basket and headed for the checkout. “Of course not. I’m not crazy, Stephanie.” I knew my children worried about me. My remaining two sons had long kept quiet about Matthew, but Stephanie wore her heart on her sleeve.

“I know you’re not, Mom, but…” She was quiet. “It’s been years since—”

“I know,” I said, stopping her. It was a daily sorrow of which I didn’t need to be reminded. I felt my throat tighten. “Kiss the boys for me and we’ll talk soon.” I threw the phone in my purse, grabbed my sack of groceries, and left the store.

I drove to Carla’s apartment. Donovan, a five-year-old ball of fire, greeted me at the door. I pretended to fall over. “You scared me to death!” I said. He laughed, watching me clutch my heart. “Are my eyes bugged out of my head? It feels like my eyes are bugged out of my head.”

Donovan lifted my eyelids and shook his head. “Nope. They’re in your head.”

“What color are my eyes, Donovan?”

He looked at me hard. “Red!”

I bent over laughing, lifting the box of Cheerios out of the sack. Donovan tore into the top and I pushed him toward the kitchen. “Don’t eat out of the box. You’re not a bear.”

Carla pulled her straight, black hair into a ponytail and I sat down, looking at her. Donovan obviously got his curly hair from his father, whoever he was.

“Has Thomas been living here again?” I never tiptoed around what was on my mind. Some people would say I lacked tact, but after years of knowing her I had learned how to communicate with Carla.

“No, Miss Glory.”

“Because if he has been and he’s been sucking you dry for money and food and a place to live, then—”

“He doesn’t know where I live now. I promise.”

“Do you want to see him?” I asked. Carla turned her head away. She looked much older than her age, but she’d lived a lot of life in twenty-three years. “Carla, God didn’t create you for this. He didn’t create anybody for this.” She wouldn’t look at me. “That man uses you. He hurts you.” Carla wasn’t listening. She’d heard it all before from so many others.

A string of losers.
That’s what Carla’s mother called her boyfriends when I talked to her on the phone.
The next one worse than the last.
When Carla had been pregnant with Donovan, she had hoped his father would stay, but he didn’t. No man ever stayed. Thomas had been with her longer than the others, and Carla thought they could be a family, but she was wrong.

I sighed. “Is your wrist better?”

Carla rolled her wrist to show the movement she had again. “It’s much better. I didn’t even have to take all the pain pills the doctor prescribed.”

I kept my voice low. “One day he could come in here and hurt you right in front of Dovovan. He may even hurt Donovan.”

“I’m not going to see him anymore, Miss Glory.”

“If he comes back, call the police and they’ll get rid of him,” I said.

“I can’t do that, Miss Glory,” she said, whispering.

I sat forward. “Call the police before he hurts you again.”

Tears fell down her cheeks. “If I call them they might come in and take Donavan away from me again.” I shook my head. Her voice rose louder. “DFS will find out about the police and they’ll take him.”

I put my hands on her shoulders. “They won’t take your son because you’re trying to protect him….” I reached for a tissue in my pocket and wiped her face. “If he comes back, promise me that you’ll call the police.”

“I will, Miss Glory.”

I had heard that before, but wanted to believe her. I stood and took Carla’s hand, leading her into the kitchen. I unpacked the food into the cupboards and opened the refrigerator. “Milk should always be in your refrigerator. Donovan needs it and so do you.” She nodded; she knew that, but days would go by without Donovan having a glass of milk or even a decent meal. I handed Carla the check. “Take this directly to the electric company. This is the last time I’ll be able to help pay it. You know that, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I got that job, so I’ll be able to pay all my bills now.”

I hugged her, saying how excited I was for her, and bent over to kiss the top of Donovan’s head.
“Adiós.”

“Good-bye, Señorita Cuckoo.” He giggled and shoved a handful of Cheerios into his mouth.

I got into my car and waved. Carla waved back and I prayed that this time she’d have the strength she needed to keep Thomas out of her life.

A few days into the job Fred Clauson, the head of security, told Ray and Chaz that they’d have to rotate the night shift till after Christmas. “It’s supposed to be a season of peace,” Fred said. “But somebody manages to break into the store around this time every year.” Chaz volunteered to take the shift by himself.

“We always rotate the night shift through Christmas,” Ray said.

“I can work it,” Chaz said, taking a swig of coffee. “It’s no big deal.” Actually, Chaz figured there were fewer people to deal with at night, so he could do what he wanted. He liked it that way.

“Why would you want to work solid nights for weeks on end?” Ray asked.

Chaz shrugged. “I don’t know. It doesn’t bother me.”

“You are a hard one to crack,” Ray said, slapping the top of the desk. He slid a stale chocolate-chip cookie from an open package in the bottom drawer into his mouth. “Just be sure you keep up with the job, you know. Being alone here at night isn’t necessarily a good thing. It’s easy to get distracted and forget about the work.”

Chaz nodded. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ray leaned back in the chair and folded his hands on top of his head. “Uh-huh. You’re thinking that Ray don’t know jack, but in reality Ray’s got your back!”

“The Robert Frost of the security team.”

Ray laughed and flung himself forward in the chair. “Oh!” he said, sliding a note in front of Chaz. “Be sure to go see Judy in the office before the end of the day.”

Chaz thought about going to the local sports bar at the end of the street throughout his shift. Drinking was the high point of his life, and he looked forward to it to cap off each day. At the end of his shift he grabbed his coat and ran for the door but stopped, remembering that he needed to see Judy. He ran up the stairs to the main office and let Judy roll one finger after another into ink before pressing them down into tiny squares on a card. “What did employers do before fingerprinting?” she said, chattering on about her new granddaughter. “Guess it was easier for convicted felons to find a job!” She placed the fingerprints into a large envelope and sealed it. “That’s all there is to it,” she said. “Simple as that.” He rubbed his purplish blue fingertips together and walked out of the store toward the bar.

He jumped awake at four
A.M
. The room was stiflingly hot and he couldn’t breathe; the sheets were covered with sweat. He sat up on the edge of the bed. Where did Judy say she was sending those fingerprints? To what screening company? “Simple as that,” she had said, sealing the envelope. What had he done? How could he have made such a stupid mistake? He looked at the clock again: four oh-one. Judy wouldn’t be at the store again until Monday morning. There wasn’t anything he could do about it over the weekend. He bent over the bathroom sink and splashed water on his face, trying to figure a way out of the mess he’d just made. His hands started to shake and he walked to the kitchen, where he cracked open a can of beer. He downed it, but a current surged through his body and he drank three more beers before the shaking stopped.

His mother used to say that the most crucial lessons we learn aren’t the ones we learn once but the ones that keep coming back, bending us till we nearly break.
Those are the ones that take longer to learn,
she had said once. Again and again he would do something that screwed up his life. He raced full bore into one situation after another, and in each town in which he lived, he just seemed to gain more speed until he ended up wounded and bruised in a ditch of his own making. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung in the eating area. No matter how much he wanted to stop, he did the same things over and over again and despised himself for it. He was at the point where he lived in a perpetual state of dark equilibrium where he just sort of existed. Up until the last few months his life had always worked; he got by. Now, for whatever reason, it wasn’t working anymore. He slumped to the floor, clutching the beer in his hand, and rested his head against the wall. He stayed there till dawn.