Finding Christmas

“Fair enough.”

She waited, but he seemed to drift away in thought. Finally he looked her in the eyes. “I fell in love once, and since that time no other woman could compare.”

The candid statement answered her question, but again she couldn’t stop herself. “Did she die?”

He lowered his gaze and shook his head. “No. It was one of those impossible things.”

His face looked strained, and she knew she should stop. “She didn’t love you?”

“She did, I think, but not the kind of love I wanted.” He lifted his cup and drained it. “Are you ready? We don’t want to miss the parade.”

Joanne looked down at her barely nibbled pastry and realized she’d forgotten to eat. “Sure,” she said, taking another sip of coffee before rising.

Benjamin didn’t say anymore, and Joanne realized she’d asked too much.

By the time they climbed back into the stands, the bleachers were filled. As a marching band blared on the street, they settled onto the planks. A cold wind swirled upward beneath their feet and Joanne adjusted the seat cushion while Benjamin tucked the blanket around their legs.

Drifting above their heads was a huge helium elephant balloon, tethered to the ground by a host of volunteer clowns who tugged on the lines to keep it from flying away. Children clapped their hands and the crowd roared in her ears.

“Remember when the penguin balloon, Chilly Willy, broke loose years ago? It floated miles away.”

He grinned. “They found it in Canada just off Walpole Island, if I remember right.”

She grinned at the memory. Then a passing float drew applause—a bright spectacle with toy soldiers surrounding a large drum caricature whose arms stuck out from its sides forming drumsticks that beat a rhythm. Joanne loved the fun, yet she had a difficult time concentrating on the passing parade. Her mind fought between her conversation with Benjamin and her longing to have Mandy by her side.

A cheer rose, and Joanne turned to see the float of Santa’s sleigh, the highlight of the parade for the children. As she gazed into the crowd of sweet upturned faces, her stomach knotted. Standing below her near the street were a woman and child—a child with blond hair and oval face with features that matched her own.

Mandy? Her awareness sharpened and she felt a driving panic. She stood, her legs moving without her command.

“Joanne,” Benjamin called behind her.

She bounded down the bleacher steps into the crowd. Humanity surrounded her now, and she’d lost the child and woman. She searched the crowd for a hooded azure jacket, but the faces blurred and colors ran together.

“Mandy!” she heard herself cry, and people turned in her direction. She wavered, then stopped. Her heart thundered in her throat as hopelessness assailed her.

“Joanne.” Benjamin appeared behind her and drew her into his arms. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

She lifted her tear-filled eyes. What was she doing?

The shuttle bus swayed and bounced as it traveled along I-94 to Oakwood Boulevard. Donna brushed her hand across Connie’s hair. The hood of her blue jacket lay twisted around her shoulders as she nestled in the corner of the bus seat with her head resting against the window. The parade had tired her. They’d had to get up early to reach the shuttle and arrive downtown in time for the parade.

Donna had hoped to find a place at Grand Circus Park, but the bus had dropped them at the head of the parade. Once she realized that’s where Santa left the sleigh to speak to the children from the special stage, she had been pleased, but the crowd there had been fierce. Connie had had to squeeze through the mob lining the curb so that she could see.

The bus hit a pothole, and Connie’s head bounced against the window. She opened her eyes and gave Donna a sleepy smile.

“Tired?”

Connie grinned. “Nope.”

“Not anymore maybe.”

The child giggled. “I loved the balloons and the clowns best.”

“Really?”

Then she wrinkled her nose. “Best after Santa.”

“I thought so,” Donna said, holding out her arm for the child to cuddle against her.

Connie shifted and rested her head against Donna’s frame. Love filled Donna’s heart, and a deep ache pulsed in the pit of her stomach. She’d already taken too many chances. From now on, she had to be careful. She’d let her plan mull in her head. She’d never done anything illegal before, but now it was different. Donna needed to assure her own safety and most of all, that of Connie.

Carl seemed to be losing it. Donna envisioned one of his recent violent outbursts, and her stomach lurched at the memory. He’d called her names, threatened her and hinted that he’d rather see her dead.

She couldn’t blame his reaction on her questions about the past. Her interest had been motivated by his daily tirades. Donna needed to understand. More and more she gathered pieces of information from his late-night phone calls. He’d been involved in a car ring of some kind. His trucking company, apparently, was a cover for a car-theft business. She had no details, but she’d put two and two together.

Carl-Peter-whatever-his-name-was thought she was stupid, but Donna had more brains than he did. She’d cooked up a plan that would help her escape and take Connie with her, but first she had to make sure she had things right. She had to prove for certain that Connie and Mandy were the same child. If so, Donna knew a mother’s love would prompt the Fuller woman to take chances, and follow Donna’s instructions. She had to.

Donna had never imagined extorting anyone or hurting anyone, but to get away and to keep Connie in her life, she had no choice.

She felt a twinge of regret. Her friend’s message about Jesus had affected her. With Jesus in her life things could be different, but the Lord would have to be in Carl’s life, too, and she couldn’t imagine that.

No one was in Carl’s life—not Connie, not her. Carl’s focus was on Carl.

Joanne pulled a round steak from the refrigerator. After church that morning, when Benjamin had invited her out to dinner, she’d said, “Sounds good, but tonight, the treat’s on me.”

She knew he thought she would take him out to dinner, but she had decided that Benjamin would probably enjoy a home-cooked meal better than fine dining. She hadn’t made beef stroganoff since Greg died and today she would see if she still had the talent to make the tender morsels of steak swimming in a sour cream sauce so full of calories she should feel ashamed.

Ashamed. The word triggered thoughts. Joanne regretted her over-the-top behavior during the past week. Not only had she jumped too quickly to make something sinister out of the telephone calls, but now she’d reacted like a madwoman at the parade, chasing after a mother and child. What had gotten into her? With her jangled nerves and sense of foreboding, she needed help.

Pushing her worries aside, Joanne tackled the dinner. She pulled a knife from the cabinet drawer and began the ritual of cutting the steak into long thin slices. That was part of her secret. She liked beef so tender she could cut it with a fork.

As she wielded the knife, making the final slice, the telephone rang—and when she jumped, the knife slashed her index finger. She jerked her hand away from the cutting board. Blood oozed from the wound, and she held her hand over the sink while she grabbed paper towel.

After wrapping her finger, she picked up the receiver and said hello. That ominous silence ran through the wire. Bitterness, yet victory filled her as she eyed the blood seeping through the toweling. She needed this third call for the police.

“Hello,” she said again. It was the same pattern. She talked. The caller didn’t.