Magic hour: a novel (39 page)

Holding hands, Julia and Alice walked down to Main Street and turned left. The streets were full of parked cars but empty of people on this ultimate family night. The parking lot behind city hall only had three cars in it.

Julia led Alice up the steps. “We’re going to get Ellie and then we’ll walk downtown. I’ll show you the pretty lights.”

Alice was so busy petting her purse she barely nodded.

Julia opened the door.

Inside the police station, Cal and his three daughters, and Peanut and Benji and their teenage son and daughter, and Ellie were dancing to an earsplitting rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Mel and his family were setting food out on the table.

Alice shrieked and started to howl.

Ellie ran for the stereo and shut it off. Silence descended. Everyone stared at one another. Cal was the first to move. He herded his girls into a group; they moved toward Julia. Alice glommed onto her side, trying to disappear. The whimpering started again; the thumb popped into her mouth.

Close, but not too close. Cal dropped down on one knee. “Hey, Alice. We’re the Wallace family. You remember us, I bet? I’m Cal, and these are my girls. Amanda, Emily, and Sarah.”

Alice was trembling. She tightened her hold on Julia’s hand.

Peanut bustled her family forward. Her husband, Benji, was a big, burly-looking man with twinkling eyes and a ready smile. Not once during the party did he let go of his wife’s hand. Their teenagers were clearly trying to appear “cool,” but every now and then they grinned like little kids.

Introductions were made quietly. Benji knelt down slowly in front of Alice and wished her a very Merry Christmas, then he herded his children over to the tree.

Peanut stayed behind. “I can’t go over there,” she said to Julia. “Eggnog. Some people can drink a glass of it. I’d like an IV.” She laughed.

At the sound, Alice looked up and smiled.

“You’ve really worked a miracle with her,” Peanut said, showing Alice her long red fingernails. Each one sported a sparkly wreath.

“Thanks,” Julia said.

“Well, I better get over to my family. But before I go . . .” She leaned close to Julia, whispered, “I have a bit of gossip.”

Julia laughed. “I’m hardly the one to tell.”

“Oh, you’re the only one. My sources—which are FBI good—tell me that a certain doctor in town took a date to the movies. That’s like Paris Hilton moving into a double wide. Some things don’t happen. But this one did.”

“It was just a movie.”

“Was it?” Peanut gave her a wink, a pat on the arm, and she left.

For the next fifteen minutes everyone went about celebrating Christmas, but it was as if the mute button had been pushed. The laughter was quiet, the talking even more so. In the background the Vince Garibaldi trio Christmas CD came on. It was the music from
A Charlie Brown Christmas.
Mom’s favorite. At some point Earl and Myra showed up with more food.

Alice was mesmerized by the opening of presents. She finally came out from behind Julia so she could see better. She didn’t talk to anyone except Ellie, but she seemed content to watch it all. She dared to play alongside Sarah, who was a few years older. Not together, but side by side; Alice watched Sarah’s every move and imitated it. By the time everyone started to leave, Alice could dress and undress Disco Barbie without help. After the party broke up, Ellie, Julia, and Alice walked downtown. Alice couldn’t stop pointing at the various lights and decorations. She kept tugging on Julia’s hand and dragging her forward. It was going better than Julia had anticipated, actually.

Julia walked beside Ellie. Alice pointed at every light, every decoration.

“She reminds me of you,” Julia said to her sister. “You always had such enthusiasm for the holidays.”

“You, too.”

“I was quieter, though. In everything.”

“So I’m a bigmouth?”

Julia smiled. “Yes. And I’m ladylike.”

They walked on.

“So,” Julia finally said, trying to sound casual. “I hear the gossip mill is in high gear on Max and me.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to bring it up. What’s the story with you two?”

“I don’t know,” Julia answered truthfully. “There’s . . . something between us.”

Ellie turned to her. “I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Yeah,” Julia said quietly. “I’ve had the same thought myself.”

In front of the Catholic church, Alice came to a stop. She pointed at the brightly lit manger scene set up on the yard. “Prittee.”

Then the bells of the church pealed.

Ellie looked at Julia. “The service should have been out an hour ago. I called Father James myself—”

Before she’d finished the sentence, the double doors banged open and the parishioners came pouring out of St. Mark’s in a rushing, chattering river of humanity. There were people everywhere, moving right at them, surging down the stairs.

Alice screamed and yanked her hand free to cover her ears.

Julia heard the scream, then a desperate howl. She turned toward Alice.

“It’s okay, honey. Don’t be—”

Alice was gone, lost in the sea of faces and bodies.

TWENTY

T
HERE ARE ONLY
S
TRANGERS AROUND
G
IRL; LAUGHING, TALKING,
singing strangers. She stumbles sideways, almost falls.

Jewlee promised,
she thinks.

But it doesn’t surprise her, even though she can feel a ripping in her chest and a swelling in her throat.

There is something wrong with Girl. Something Bad. It has always been that way. Him told her that all the time. Why had she let herself forget? Even worse, she’d let herself
believe
in Jewlee and now Girl is afraid again. This time there are people everywhere instead of nowhere, but this makes no difference. Some words she knows now. Lost is lost; it’s when you want someone to hold you but there is no one who can. Lost is alone, even when people are all around you.

She pushes through the crowd of Strangers. Any one of them could hurt her. Her heart is beating so hard and fast it makes her dizzy. They are reaching for her, trying to pull her back.

She runs until the sound of voices is funny and far away, like the roar of water in the falls at her beloved river when the snow begins to melt.

She stares out past this place called town. Her trees are there, dark now, and pointy against the sky. They would welcome her again; she knows this. She could follow the river to her cave and live there again.

Cold.

Hungry.

Alone.

Even Wolf is gone from her.

She would be too alone out there.

Now that she has known Jewlee and Lellie how can she go back to the nothing? She will miss being held, miss hearing the pretty story about the rabbit who wants to be real. Girl knows about that: wanting to be real.

That ache in her chest is back. It is like swelling up; she hopes her bones will not crack from it. A strange tightness squeezes her throat. She feels this all from far away, and wonders if finally her eyes will leak. She wants them to. It will make the hurt in her chest ease.

Then she sees the tree.

It is where she first hid in this place. Trees have always protected her. She runs to her tree and climbs up, higher and higher, until an old, bare limb cradles her.

She tries not to think about how much different—better—it felt to be held by Jewlee.

No. Leave. Girl.

She wishes she’d never believed in that promise.

J
ULIA SPUN AROUND, SEARCHING EVERY FACE, REACHING OUT.
A
LL
around her people kept moving, laughing, talking, singing Christmas carols. She wanted to scream at them to shut up, to please
please
help her find this one little girl. Their voices were a white noise that roared in her head.

“What happened?” Ellie said, shaking Julia’s shoulders to get her attention.

“She’s gone.” Julia almost started to cry. “One minute she was here, holding my hand . . . then the church let out and there were people everywhere. It must have terrified her. She ran away.”

“Okay. Don’t move. You hear me?”

Julia had trouble hearing it, actually. Her heart was pounding. All she could think about was earlier tonight, when Alice had been so afraid to get in the car and even more afraid to be strapped into the booster seat. But she’d done it. That brave, bruised child had let herself be bound and looked up at her through those sad eyes and said:
No leave girl?

She had promised,
sworn,
not to leave Alice alone. Julia pushed through the crowd, yelling for Alice, searching every face. She knew she looked like a madwoman but she didn’t care.

A breeze blew in, skudded leaves down the street and across the grass. It smelled vaguely of the not-so-distant ocean; she had no doubt that if she drew in a lungful, it would taste like tears. She stopped, trying to quell her rising panic. Now she heard Ellie yelling for Alice, too, saw flashlight beams cut through the park.

Think. What would bring Alice out?

It came to her suddenly.
Music.
Alice spent hours standing by the speakers, listening to music. She loved dozens of songs—whole Disney soundtracks. But of all the songs she listened to, one was clearly her favorite.

Julia took a deep breath and began to sing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

She walked all around the empty park, singing.

“‘. . . how I wonder where you are . . .’”

A bird warbled its own song. For a moment Julia didn’t notice. Then it struck her that the birdsong matched her voice.

“Alice?” she whispered.

“Jewlee?”

Julia’s knees buckled. She looked up into the bare branches of the maple tree. Alice was there, looking down, her face pale with fear and lined by worry, she said, “No leave?”

“Oh, honey . . . no leave.”

Alice jumped down from her perch in the maple tree.

Julia scooped Alice into her arms and held her tightly. She felt the little girl tremble and knew how scared she’d been.

Julia pulled back. “I’m sorry, Alice.”

A trembling smile formed on her face. “Stay?”

“Yes, honey. I’ll stay.”

Alice touched Julia’s face, wiped her tears. “No water,” she said, sounding worried.

“Those are just tears, Alice. Tears. And they mean I love you.”

Ellie walked up just then and squatted down beside them. “There’s our girl,” she said with a sigh.

Julia looked up at her sister through a blur of tears. “What’s the local lawyer’s name?”

“John MacDonald. Why?”

“I want to start adoption proceedings the day after Christmas.”

“Are you sure?”

Julia pulled Alice against her even more tightly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

B
Y NOON ON
C
HRISTMAS DAY
M
AX HAD BEEN TO THE HOSPITAL TO VISIT
his patients and the few children on the ward; he’d also ridden his bicycle fifteen miles, dropped off a donation at the Catholic church, and called every member of his family.

Now he stood in his quiet living room, staring out at the gray-washed lake. It was raining so hard that the entire backyard looked colorless; even the trees.

He should have put up a Christmas tree. Maybe that would have helped his mood, although he couldn’t imagine why it would. He hadn’t bought a tree in seven years.

He went to the sofa and sat down, but he knew instantly that it was a mistake. Ghosts and memories crowded in on him. He saw his mother sitting on her favorite chair, studying bugs through a magnifying glass . . . and his dad, sleeping on his Barcalounger, with a hand pressed to his wrinkled cheek . . . and Susan, knitting a pale blue blanket. . . .

He picked up the phone and called the hospital. “It’s quiet here,” he was told. “Don’t come in.”

Hanging up, he got to his feet. He couldn’t just sit here, remembering other Christmases. He needed to do something. Go somewhere. Climb a mountain, maybe, or—

See Julia.

That was all it took: the thought of her, and he was in motion.

He got dressed, jumped in his truck, and drove to her house. Even though he knew he was being an idiot, he couldn’t help himself. He had to see her.

He knocked.

Julia was laughing as she answered the door, saying something. When she saw him, her smile faded. “Oh. I thought you were going to L.A. for Christmas.”

“I stayed,” he said softly. “If you’re busy—”

“Of course not. Come in. Would you like a drink? We have some hot buttered rum that’s pretty good.”

“That would be great.”

She led him into the living room, then headed for the kitchen. Her gap-toothed little shadow matched her step for step. They looked almost conjoined.