Magic hour: a novel (37 page)

Another contraction; another scream. “Yes,” she panted.

“The baby’s crowning,” Max said to Trudi. “Okay, Crystal, you can start pushing.”

Crystal grunted and wheezed and screamed. Her husband rushed to her side. “I’m here, Chrissie.” He grabbed her hand.

The baby’s head appeared.

“Push a little more for the shoulders, Crystal, and you’ll be done,” Max said.

He gently pulled down on the baby’s head to free the anterior, then eased up; the baby slid out, landed in Max’s hands.

“You have a beautiful little girl,” he said, looking up. Both Crystal and her husband were crying.

“You want to cut the cord, Dad?” Max said. No matter how many times he said those words, they always got to him.

By the time they were done, he was exhausted. He took a long hot shower, got dressed, and headed for the nurses’ station.

Trudi was there, all alone. At his approach, she came out from around the desk and smiled up at him. “They’re naming the baby Maxine.”

“Poor kid,” he said, then fell silent.

“You haven’t been to the house in a while.”

It would have been easy to change the subject, but Trudi deserved better than that. “I guess we should talk.”

Trudi laughed. “You always said talking wasn’t our best skill.” She leaned closer. “Let me guess: it’s about a certain doctor who had Thanksgiving dinner at the local police chief’s house. Since I know you’re not interested in Ellie, it must be her sister. Julia.”

He shook his head. “I don’t even know what the hell’s going on with her. We’re—”

“You don’t have to tell me, Max.”

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world—”

She silenced him with a touch. “I’m glad for you. Really. You’ve been alone too long.”

“You’re a good woman, Trudi Hightower.”

“And you’re a good man. Now quit being such a chickenshit and ask her out for a date. Unless I miss my guess, it’s Friday night, and I know a doctor who shouldn’t be going to the movies alone anymore.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “Good-bye, Trudi.”

“’Bye, Max.”

He climbed into his truck and headed for the theater. He had no intention of going to Julia, but when he came to Magnolia Street, he turned left instead of right, and drove down old Highway 101.

All the way to her house he told himself he was crazy.

All or nothing.

He’d had
all
once; it had practically killed him.

In her yard, he parked and sat there, staring through the windshield at the house. Finally, he got out, walked up to the front door and knocked.

Julia opened the door. Even in a pair of faded Levi’s and a white cable-knit sweater that was two sizes too big, she looked beautiful. “Max,” she said, obviously surprised. She eased forward and closed the door behind her, blocking the way.

“You want to go to the movies?”

Idiot.
He sounded like a desperate teenager.

Her answer was a smile that started slowly, then overtook her face. “Cal and Ellie are here playing Scrabble, so yeah . . . I could go to the show. What’s playing?”

“I have no idea.”

She laughed. “That’s my favorite.”

T
HE MOVIE, AS IT TURNED OUT, WAS
T
O
H
AVE AND
H
AVE
N
OT
.
J
ULIA
sat next to Max in the darkened theater, watching one of the great screen pairings of all time. When it was over, and she and Max were walking through the beautifully restored lobby of the Rose Theater, Julia got the feeling that they were being stared at.

“People are talking about us,” she said, sidling close to him.

“Welcome to Rain Valley.” He took her arm and led her out of the theater and across the street to where his truck was parked. “I’d take you out for some pie, but everything’s closed.”

“You do like your pie.”

He grinned. “And you thought you knew nothing about me.”

She turned, looked up at him, no longer smiling. “I don’t know much.”

He stared down at her; she expected him to come up with some smart-ass comeback. Instead he kissed her. When he drew back, he said quietly, “There. You know that.”

When she didn’t say anything, he opened the door and she got in.

All the way back to her house they talked about things that didn’t matter. The movie. The baby he’d delivered tonight, the waning salmon populations and declining old-growth forests. His plans for Christmas.

At her front door she let him take her in his arms. It was amazing how comfortable she felt there. This time, when he bent down to kiss her, she met him more than halfway, and when it was over and he drew back, she wanted more. “Thanks for the movie, Max.”

He kissed her again, so softly she hardly had time to taste him before it was over. “Good night, Julia.”

B
Y LATE
D
ECEMBER THE HOLIDAYS WERE FIRST AND FOREMOST ON EVERYONE’S
mind. The Rotary Club had hung the streetlamp decorations and the Elks’ had decorated their Giving Tree. On every corner in town there were tree lots set up; local scout troops were going door-to-door, selling wrapping paper.

Today had dawned bright and clear, with an ice blue sky unmarred by even the thinnest cloud. Along the riverbanks, where the ground was warmer than the air, a layer of pink fog rose from the bending shoreline to the lowest branches of the trees, turning everything beyond it to a blurry uncertainty. It was easy to picture magic in that haze; fairies and spirits and animals that lived nowhere else on Earth.

All day, as usual, Julia had been at Alice’s side. They’d spent a lot of time outside in the yard.

Julia was trying to prepare Alice for the next big step. Town.

It wouldn’t be easy. The first hurdle was the car.

“Town,” Julia said quietly, looking down at Alice. “Remember the pictures in the books? I want us to go to town, where the people live.”

Alice’s eyes widened. “Out?” she whispered, her mouth trembling.

“I’ll be with you all the time.”

She shook her head.

Julia carefully extricated herself from Alice’s clinging hold. Very carefully, she held Alice’s hands in hers. She wanted to ask the girl if she trusted her, but trust was too complicated a concept for a child with such limited verbal skills. “I know you’re scared, honey. It’s a big world out there, and you’ve seen the worst of it.” She touched Alice’s soft, warm cheek. “But hiding out here with me and Ellie can’t be your future. You’ve got to come into the world.”

“Stay.”

Julia started to respond, but before she’d formed the first word, she was interrupted by a honking horn.

Alice’s face lit up. “Lellie!” She let go of Julia and ran to the window by the front door. The dogs followed her, barking out a welcome, falling over themselves in a rush. Elwood knocked Alice over. The girl’s giggles rose up from the tangle of bodies on the floor. Jake licked her cheek and nudged her.

The front door opened. Ellie stood there, grinning, then dragged a Christmas tree into the house.

For the next hour Julia and Ellie struggled to get the tree in its stand, upright, and clamped down. When they were finally finished, both of them were sweating.

“No wonder Dad always drank heavily before he put up the tree,” Ellie said, standing back and surveying their work.

“It’s not
absolutely
straight,” Julia pointed out.

“Who are we? NASA engineers? It’s straight enough.”

The dogs, sensing that Ellie was finally done with her task, made a run across the floor.

“Boys! Down!” Ellie said, just before they ran into her and sent her flying.

Alice giggled. The minute the sound slipped out, she covered her mouth with her hand. She looked at Julia and pointed at Ellie.

“Your Lellie needs to get control over her animals,” Julia said with a wry smile.

Ellie emerged from the tangle of canine bodies. Laughing, she pushed the hair from her eyes. “I should have disciplined them as puppies, it’s true.” Climbing free, she stepped away from the dogs and headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going?” Julia called after her.

“You’ll see.”

A few moments later Ellie came back downstairs; she was carrying several huge red poinsettia–decorated boxes, which she set down on the floor by the Christmas tree.

Julia recognized them instantly. “Our ornaments?”

“Every one.”

Julia moved closer. Lifting the first box top, she found skeins and skeins of lights. All the bulbs were white, because Mom said it was the color of angels and hope. She and Ellie coiled the tree in those lights, wrapped the branches in the way they’d been taught. It was the first time they’d decorated a tree together since high school.

When the lights were all in place, Ellie plugged the cords into the wall.

Alice gasped.

“You think she’s ever seen a Christmas tree before?” Ellie asked quietly, standing beside Julia.

Julia shook her head. She went to the box and picked up a shiny red apple ornament. It hung from her finger on a filigree gold thread. Kneeling in front of Alice, she offered the girl the ornament. “On the tree, Alice. Make it pretty.”

Alice frowned. “Tee?”

“Remember the book we read.
How the Grinch Stole Christmas
?”

“Ginch.” She nodded, but her frown didn’t ease.

“Remember the Who’s tree? Pretty tree, you said.”

“Oh,” Alice said, blowing out her breath on the word. She understood.

Julia nodded.

Alice took the ornament carefully, as if it were made of spun sugar instead of bright plastic. She walked slowly across the room, stepped over the dogs and stopped, staring at the tree for a long time. Finally, she placed the gold thread on the very tip of the highest branch she could reach. Then, slowly, she turned around, looking worried.

Ellie clapped enthusiastically. “Perfect!”

A smile broke over Alice’s face, transforming her for this wonderful moment into an ordinary little girl. She ran to the box, chose another ornament, then carried it carefully to Ellie. “Lellie. Prittee.”

Ellie bent down. “Who is giving me this pretty ornament?”

“Girl. Give.”

Ellie touched Alice’s hair, tucked a flyaway strand behind her little shell pink ear. “Can you say Alice?”

She pointed emphatically toward the tree. “Put.”

“You’re creating a little dictator here, Jules,” Ellie said, moving toward the tree.

“A nameless one,” Julia said quietly. It stuck in her craw that Alice couldn’t give them her name and wouldn’t take the name they gave her.

Alice ran to the box and chose another red ornament. After clapping and hopping up and down at Ellie’s placement of her ornament, Alice darted over to Julia. “Jew-lee. Prittee.”

Alice was literally sparkling right now. Julia had never seen the girl smile so brightly. She swept down and pulled Alice into her arms for a hug.

Alice giggled and hung on. “Kiss-mas tee. Nice.”

Julia twirled her around until they both were breathless. Then, smiling, they moved on to the task of decorating the tree.

“I
T’S THE PRETTIEST TREE WE’VE EVER HAD,
” E
LLIE SAID, SITTING ON THE
sofa with a mug of Bailey’s in her hand and a Costco fake mink throw rug over her feet.

“That’s because Dad used to buy the biggest one on the lot, then cut off the top to make it fit in the room.”

Ellie laughed at the memory. It was one she’d forgotten: The great big tree, taking up the whole corner of the room, its top hacked off; Mom frowning in disappointment, swatting Dad’s arm.
You never listen, Tom,
Mom would say,
a tree isn’t supposed to be trimmed on top. I should make you get us another one.

But it took only moments, sometimes less, before he had her smiling again, even laughing.
Now, now, Bren,
he’d say in that gravelly voice of his,
why should our tree be like everyone else’s? I’ve just given us a bit of oomph, I have. Right, girls?