Finding Christmas

“I’m not crazy, Nita. The voice is like a child crying for help.”

Nita’s gaze didn’t waver.

“It’s Mandy’s voice.” Joanne heard Nita’s sudden intake of air.

“Mandy’s? Are you sure?”

“I’ll never forget my child’s cry. Never.”

“But she’s…”

“Dead, I know.” Joanne’s heart sank. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I’m hearing it. I keep asking myself what it means.”

“I have no idea what it means, but I think you should get back into counseling. I’m sure these things happen. Hopefully it’ll pass.”

Joanne shrugged, feeling defeated. “Maybe.” No one seemed to truly understand, not even Benjamin.

“Grief is a strange emotion,” Nita said. “It manifests itself in so many ways, and just when you think it’s conquered, it rises up again with a vengeance. You need to keep busy until the anniversary and the holidays pass. They’re difficult times of the year.”

“You’re right. After the accident, I lost the joy of Christmas…and my life.” Joanne tried to smile but her face felt frozen in a frown. “I need to get a new one.”

Nita chuckled. “Sounds like you gave it a start last night. You had one pleasant distraction over for a visit.”

“Don’t start that again. F-R-I-E-N-D. Put those letters together.” Joanne gave her a swat. “Get out of here. I have work to do.”

Nita edged her hip off the desk. “I came in here for a reason. Feel like Christmas shopping tonight?”

“Not tonight. Benjamin called a few minutes ago, and I invited him over tonight. How about next week?”

“Certainly,” Nita said with a grin. “I’d pass up shopping any day for that.”

Joanne realized she would, too. A sweet sensation wove through her chest. Having Benjamin around made her feel comfortable. He reminded her of the good days when things were normal. No voices. No deaths. Tonight she was eager to have some laughs. If Benjamin did nothing more than give her a few hours of peace, she’d be eternally grateful.

After Nita waved and left, Joanne tried to pull her focus back to her work, but lost the battle. Her child’s cries remained in her thoughts.

She angled her chair to face the computer screen and hit the e-mail button. A list of messages appeared. She saw one that made her smile and opened it.

Hi. Hope you slept well. It was so good to see you last night. Almost like old times. I’ll be in touch. I’m looking forward to it. I hope you are. Benjamin

The note warmed her heart, and she let her gaze linger on it for a moment before skimming the other addresses. Most of them were business e-mails but there was one she didn’t recognize—Shadow@123go.com. Curious, she hit the read button.

YOU THINK YOU HAVE EVERYTHING.

WELL YOU DON’T.

The capital letters shouted at her, and she peered at the words again, not understanding the meaning. A strange feeling came over her again.

What did the warning mean? She didn’t have everything. She’d lost everything she loved.

Chapter Three

Donna’s hands perspired as she fumbled through the old photographs she’d found in the manila envelope in the basement. She knew so little about Carl. She’d never realized it before. She sensed he had two lives, one he allowed her to see and one he kept hidden. She didn’t like either of them anymore.

“Mom.”

Her heart jumped when she heard Connie’s voice. “I’m down in the basement, sweetie. I’ll be up in a minute.” She glanced around the corner toward the staircase to make sure Connie hadn’t come down.

Donna pushed the items back into the metal box she’d found in the closet under the stairs. Old newspaper clippings, photographs, things she didn’t have time to scrutinize. She was ashamed of herself for being so suspicious, but the more Carl pushed her away and the more volatile he became, the more she wanted to know about him. Maybe if she learned something significant she could forgive him—or if not, have the power to escape.

A photograph fell to the floor, and Donna reached to retrieve it.

“Where are you?”

Donna’s chest tightened at the sound of Connie’s voice so near. She slipped the photo into her pants pocket, then snapped the lid on the box and slid it back into its hiding place.

“Right here, sweetie.”

Donna came around the corner and met Connie head-on. “Oops. Let’s get upstairs.”

“Whatcha doing?”

Her mind scrambled. “I was looking for something I misplaced. It’s not here.”

Connie gave her a questioning look, then skipped up the stairs ahead of her, calling back, “Can I have a snack?”

“Fruit,” Donna said, following her into the kitchen. “How was school?”

Donna rinsed off an apple and handed it to Connie while she listened to her tales of the “bad boys” in her class, Connie’s recess escapades and a star she had received for helping a girl with math.

As Donna began dinner, she watched the child—her animation, her blond ponytail swinging back and forth and her blue eyes wide with excitement. Donna sensed that Connie felt closer to her than to her father, and her heart swelled.

When Connie had finished her story and bounded off to change her school clothes, Donna slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the photo. She needed to get it back into the envelope before Carl found it and punished her for snooping—as he called it—but she believed a wife deserved to know something about her husband’s past.

When she lowered her gaze to the photograph, Donna’s heart stopped. Looking like he did before she married him, Carl stood outside a large brick home beside a dark-haired woman who held a toddler in her arms. Donna looked closer, trying to make sense out of the picture. If this was Carl’s deceased wife and Connie, something was terribly wrong.

This child had dark hair like her parents. Connie was blond.

Benjamin came through the front door in the wake of a cold wind. Joanne struggled to push the door closed.

“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.”