Finding Christmas

Joanne waved back and then closed the door.

Before Benjamin slipped into his car, the wind caught his jacket, and a chill gripped him—the wind, or was it apprehension?

It means something. The words echoed in his mind.

Chapter Two

Headlights glinted off the snow, and Benjamin squinted to shield his eyes from the glare. He had a headache. His feelings had knotted throughout the evening like a noose. Joanne seemed troubled. He recalled she’d seen a therapist after the accident, and maybe it was time for her to have a therapy booster shot.

Yet that wasn’t all that concerned him. Joanne had grown even more beautiful since he’d seen her at the funeral. Maturity and grief had added lines to her face, making her more real, more vulnerable, and the look touched him deeply.

As they’d talked this evening, his mind had journeyed back to that horrible night when Joanne called him. He had barely grasped what she’d told him through her sobs. Greg and Mandy drowned. No, he’d thought. The police have to be wrong. They made a mistake, he’d told himself over and over as he raced to her house through snowfall so similar to tonight’s.

But they hadn’t been wrong. The next morning Greg’s body had been found in icy Lake St. Clair, his still belted into his car. And Mandy…the divers never found her.

Pain knifed Benjamin’s heart at the thought. The beautiful child gone, her car seat still attached to the back seat, the belt unbuckled…The police said she must have disappeared through a partially opened window. The horror of it washed over him now, as icy as Lake St. Clair must have been. If he still felt the powerful emotion of Mandy’s death, he couldn’t imagine what Joanne must feel.

He drew in a ragged breath and tried to push the vision of that night from his mind. His headache thumped in his temples, and he pushed his fingers against one side to ease the ache.

Everything had seemed confused tonight. For years, he’d had strong feelings for Joanne, but he’d controlled them. She was his good friend’s wife—charming, amiable and lovely. Her mothering skills had amazed him. When Mandy was born, it seemed as though God had created Joanne for motherhood.

Though Greg had worked long hours, Joanne had never complained. She had done all she could to support his career and still have interests of her own. She’d been active at church and had participated in community drives and so many activities, Benjamin was amazed. He had always admired her, but then one day, he realized that Joanne also had begun to fill his dreams.

He felt ashamed when he finally admitted to himself that he was attracted to his best friend’s wife. The emotions had sneaked up on him. He’d thought his admiration was friendship, but it had become far more than that. He’d prayed, asking God to help him find a solution. Benjamin couldn’t stop being Greg’s friend without an explanation, and he couldn’t avoid Joanne if he was Greg’s friend.

The answer came at the law firm with the out-of-state project. He’d jumped at it. After Greg’s death, he left his heart in Detroit and moved to Seattle, built a life there. Women came and went, but no one captured his heart. He left the problem in God’s hands—he hadn’t known what else to do.

Now, project completed, he was back home where he belonged, and the same problem faced him. How could he be Joanne’s friend when he wanted so much more?

Donna Angelo stood inside the bedroom door and looked at her stepdaughter nestled in bed. Connie’s deep breathing assured Donna she was asleep. Her heart eased at the sight of the child so warm and cozy. Donna hadn’t felt warm and cozy for a long time.

She stepped into the hallway and closed Connie’s bedroom door. If her husband came home tonight with too much to drink and more ranting, she hoped Connie wouldn’t hear the noise. The child needed to sleep in peace—something rare for their household.

No matter how many times Donna waded through the details, she could never figure out when it had happened. She guessed their problems had begun slowly and built into a frightening undertone in their relationship.

Donna’s hands trembled as she headed down the long hallway to the kitchen. She wanted to have Carl’s plate ready when he arrived, hoped that the scent of food would make him less irritable. She rubbed her upper arm, feeling the tenderness resulting from last night’s fiasco.

Most every evening, Carl arrived home late. Sometimes he smelled of liquor, but she’d learned not to say anything. He always insisted his business had kept him out late. She never understood why the owner of a trucking company didn’t have someone who worked the night shift.

Then, when she caught sight of his duffel bag filled with hundred-dollar bills, she’d begun to wonder if the business fronted something illegal—but Donna knew better than to ask questions.

Yet tonight she had questions, not about his business, but about a restraining order she’d found in an old metal box in a basement storage closet. Why had his first wife obtained an order to keep him away? Had he knocked her around, too? Finally she decided the order had to mean Carl and his wife had separated. Yet Donna knew that Carl had been a widower. Nothing made sense. She wasn’t sure she could hold back her curiosity—although if she had any brains, she would.

The garage door rumbled open, and Donna hurried to the refrigerator. Before the door had opened, she’d popped Carl’s meal into the microwave. She hoped he would be in one of his rare good moods tonight.

When the back door opened, she glanced toward the sound.

Carl lumbered inside and tossed his keys on the counter by the door. “What you gawkin’ at?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She rubbed the bruise on her arm and studied his expression. Then she turned away to pull his salad from the refrigerator.

What had happened to the man she’d met? Carl—a widower with a small child—had swept her off her feet. Her heart had gone out to the little girl. Connie had seemed so timid, and Donna had realized the loss of a mother must have been devastating for the child.

When they’d met, Carl had shown Donna a good time. Though unpolished in many ways, he knew about fine restaurants and bought her expensive gifts, and before she knew it, he’d asked her to marry him. The courtship had been too short, Donna realized now.

The buzzer sounded on the microwave, and Donna opened the door and carried the plate to the table. Carl didn’t look up. He grabbed the fork and speared a hunk of beef.

“Get me a beer,” he said between chews.

Donna opened her mouth to tell him he shouldn’t drink so much. Then she closed it. One of her Christian friends had told her how much better her life had become since she and her husband had accepted Jesus, and Donna longed to share that with Carl. If he stopped drinking and developed a personal relationship with the Lord, maybe he’d stop pushing her around.

Knowing today wasn’t the day to make the suggestion, Donna retrieved the beer, snapped open the lid and set it beside his plate. She pulled out a chair and joined him, hoping he’d ask about Connie.

For a father, Carl showed little interest in his daughter. And that wasn’t all that bothered Donna. She could handle being pushed around, but sometimes he got rough with Connie. Nothing terrible, but just too threatening, and Donna felt fear each time she thought about what he could do to a six-year-old.

Carl finally lifted his head and focused on her. His eyes narrowed. “What’s bugging you?”

“Nothing. I just thought we’d talk.”

“About what?”

“Anything, Carl. Talk like most husbands and wives do. Tell me about your day.”

He snorted and dug into another piece of meat. “You want money, I suppose?”

She did. She wanted lots of money. Then she could take Connie and go far away where no one could find them. “No. That’s not what I was thinking, but it would help if I had a little pocket money.”

“I earn the money, and I pay the bills,” Carl said. “If you need some cash, ask me. Don’t I give you enough for groceries.”

Donna knew she was on dangerous ground. “Yes, but if I need clothes or—”

“Why do you need clothes? You don’t go anywhere.”

That wasn’t what she wanted. “A credit card would be nice.” She held her breath.

Carl’s hate-filled eyes sought hers. “You women are all alike—money-grubbing, unappreciative wenches. You and my mother. She drove my father to drink, and then he’d take it out on…”

The determined set of his jaw warned Donna she was in trouble. His hand snapped out, but she ducked back and he missed her.

“I don’t need anything, Carl.” Her voice pierced the air, and she feared Connie could hear them. “I—I just wish you’d come home earlier so you could spend time with Connie. She hardly knows you anymore.”

“That’s your job. Why do you think I married you?”

His caustic remark felt like a punch in her belly, and Donna drew back. “I thought you loved me,” she said, now realizing her belief was a fairy tale.

“You thought wrong,” he spat. “You’re the housekeeper and baby-sitter. I don’t even want to look at you.”

She calculated he wasn’t drunk tonight, just spiteful and he hadn’t hit her. Now seemed her best chance of having her curiosity answered about what she’d seen in the basement. “I found a paper in the basement today.”