Solomon's Oak (22 page)

Glory motioned Juniper closer. “Mom, I want you to meet Juniper, my foster daughter. Juniper, this is my mother, Ave Smith.”

For her Christmas outfit, Juniper had chosen the black sweater that was miles too big for her and black jeans. Over the sweater, she wore the purple Celtic horses T-shirt. She refused to add a scarf, a necklace, or Christmas-tree pin; this was her outfit and she was sticking to it. She also had all her face jewelry in place. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Smith.”

“Hello there, Juniper.”

Juniper brought her a mug of hot cider with a cinnamon stick. “Have some. It’s really good.”

“Juniper made it,” Glory said.

“Thank you,” Ave said. “You look very festive with those ornaments in your eyebrow and such. Tell me, did it hurt when you poked the holes?”

“A little.”

“Do they let you wear them to school? Glory told me you’re at King City High now. A freshman.”

“They don’t, but I put them in the second I get home.”

Bart held the door open for Halle, who balanced a huge gift basket wrapped in green cellophane in her arms. “Noel, Noel,” she said, and set the basket on the kitchen counter, where it dwarfed the plate of crackers and the almond-encrusted ball of sharp cheddar. She slipped out of her suede coat and handed it to Glory, who hugged her sister.

“Thanks, Halle. Merry Christmas to you, too.” Glory pointed to a box wrapped in brown paper with a pinecone ornament tied into the raffia bow. “I’ve got five kinds of jam to send home with you.” She looked up at Bart, the only one who looked comfortable in his clothes, faded jeans, scuffed loafers, and a green sweater that actually fit. “Halle, Bart, meet Juniper, my foster daughter.”

Bart shook Juniper’s hand, moved closer, and asked about the graphic on her T-shirt. “We’ve been to Ireland twice,” he said.

“Did you see Stonehenge?”

“That’s in England,” he said. “But, yes, we did, and pretty much every stone circle and plinth we could find on a map. I hope someday you can visit.”

Halle said, “Hello,” but kept her distance.

Glory watched her sister survey the room and tried to see things from her eyes. No doubt she counted every stray dog hair and scratch in the worn wood floor. It made no difference how much Glory scrubbed, the old house would not pass Halle’s inspection. When Halle came to visit, Glory saw the flaws so plainly. It wouldn’t take much to snazz things up, a coat of paint, new cabinet hardware, and slipcovers to cover the slipcovers, a few new floorboards. The problem was that Halle left, and once she was out of sight, Glory got busy with more important things. Juniper ladled a mug of cider for Halle. Glory watched her sister try to unobtrusively inspect the rim of the cup. One lousy time Glory had accidentally given her a used wineglass, and that did it, twenty years of the lay health inspector’s distrust unleashed.

“Glory,” Halle said, “your house reminds me of one of those Christmas cards put out by Leanin’ Tree. Everything is so homey and cozy and Western. But where’s your Christmas tree?”

All of that was code for “run-down, cramped, and tacky.” Glory felt sure Halle would rather be at a world-class performance of
The Nutcracker
somewhere in the Bay Area than here in Glory’s derelict homestead. “We bought a live tree so we could plant it after Christmas. It’s by the chicken coop. I can take you out there if you want to see it. We decorated it with popcorn strings and cranberries. The other day birds were all over it.”

“That’s okay. Did you do something to the cupboards? Refinish them?”

“No, but I plan to get around to that soon. Come and sit down here, on the throw. I vacuumed the couch. I promise, no scabies.”

“Glory,” Ave warned. “Don’t bait your sister.”

“What? This throw is cashmere.” Glory held back the information that it came from T.J.Maxx and was marked down to $9 because it had been opened and had an easily repairable pulled thread. In the background, Edsel yipped and scratched at the bedroom door. “Juniper? Would you mind getting the dog?”

Juniper excused herself, returning with Edsel in his holiday outfit, a black fleece hoodie with silver bows, one-two-three down his long back. “Be sweet,” Juniper whispered, and he headed straight for Glory’s mom.

“There’s my little Eddie!” Ave said. “Come here, you cutie-pie!”

“I have to show you my new car,” Halle said. “It’s got a hands-free cell phone, built-in GPS, and side air bags.”

“Sounds great,” Glory said.

“Glory,” Ave said. “He looks like Frank Sinatra in that outfit. Eddie, you’ll have to jump up by yourself, I’m afraid. I can’t trust these old claws of mine to catch you anymore.”

“Mom, don’t let it snag your new clothes,” Halle said.

It.
Glory felt her heart clench. Every holiday reminded her that her mother’s arthritis was advancing. In one fluid leap, Edsel was in her mother’s lap, holding up one paw for a high five, working Ave’s soft heart in hopes of treats. Out back, as if they could hear what was going on, Cadillac and Dodge began complaining.

“Isn’t he overheating in that outfit?” Halle said.

“Believe me,” Glory said, “if he didn’t want it on, it would be in shreds.”

“He can’t have crackers,” Juniper warned Mrs. Smith. “Let me get you one of his special biscuits. Mom taught me how to make them.”

Halle’s head turned at the sound of “Mom.”

Glory stared a hole in her. I dare you to say something. Just try. Nothing would make me happier than watching you put your size nine Naturalizer in your mouth.

Bart put his arm around Halle. “Glory, that little dog of yours is such a character. He must be great company for Juniper.”

Juniper shook her head. “Edsel’s all right. But he’s not Cadillac.”

“I’d like to get a dog someday,” Bart said. “When I retire.”

“Why wait?” Glory asked. “I’ve got one out back ready for adoption. A housebroken, Frisbee-playing, come-when-you-call, watchdogging sweetheart named Dodge. You can take him home tonight. I’ll even throw in a bag of kibble.”

“Over my dead body,” Halle said.

“Halle! Don’t talk like that on Christmas,” Ave said, letting Edsel nibble at the dog biscuit. “Don’t either of you ever wish time away, and never joke about death.”

The room went quiet. The Smith sisters were instantly reduced to teenage girls bickering over who had used whose mascara one minute and the next minute crying streaky black tears in each other’s arms because their father was dead of a heart attack. Twenty-three years had gone by, but every Christmas Glory expected her gentle giant of a father to walk into the room wearing his Santa hat, silver boxes in his hands with new charms for the bracelets they were too old to wear, but treasured. When Ave raised her voice in the slightest, her daughters went silent.

“Juniper,” Ave said, “would you mind bringing me a few of those people crackers, please?”

“Okay.” Juniper began loading up a plate.

Glory wanted to hug her.

Bart gestured to the computer sitting on the desk where Glory had moved it so that Juniper could use it for homework and Glory could supervise what she was doing. The screen saver defaulted to solomons-oak-chapel.com, a slide show of cakes, trees, the chapel interior, and musicians. He jiggled the mouse and whistled. “Someone has done a heck of a good job on this. Glory, did you take a class or something?”

“Juniper did it. Isn’t it great? And in no time at all. Have her show you the link to the pirate wedding.”

“It’s great you’re having such luck with this wedding business. Dan would be proud.”

All day Glory had known the moment was coming. Someone would say something about Dan, then she’d feel her throat constrict and taste salt in her mouth and fight the longing to rush to the closet. Instead, she took a breath, then let it out slowly. “Thank you for saying that, Bart. I hope if he can see how we’re all faring, that he’s proud of all of us.”

“Course he can see us,” Ave said. “He’s sitting next to His Heavenly Father and they’re both having cider spiked with a little dab of whiskey.”

“A big dab of whiskey,” Bart said.

“The cheese ball looks so tasty,” said Ave. “Did you make it, too, Juniper?”

“I unwrapped it from the package.”

“Well, good for you, dear. I can tell you’re a big help to my daughter. It’s hard to be without our loved ones, but we should be rejoicing that they’ve gone to be with the Lord in eternal love.”

That was the second thing Glory had been dreading, her mother bringing up God, implying that Dan was happier there than he could have been here, and, by including Juniper in that conversation, implying that God was all right with lives ending in unspeakable violence. “Bart, can I get you more cider?”

“Thanks, that’d be great.”

While Glory ladled the spicy drink into his mug, Ave and Edsel cuddled in the rocker. Juniper delivered the plate of goodies, and immediately Halle set down her cider. She shooed Edsel away and plucked an imaginary hair off her mother’s shoulder. She also took the plate from her. Halle was practically hand-feeding her the crackers and cheese. “Be careful, Mom,” she said, holding a napkin under her hand. “You don’t want to spill on your nice new pantsuit.”

Glory tried not to roll her eyes. This was her cue to compliment Ave on how nice she looked in the expensive red Christmas present Halle had given her early so she could wear it tonight. Subtext: Halle can afford this. Glory cannot. “Mom,” Glory said, “Grandma Denise’s necklace looks great with your outfit. Did you polish it?”

“Your grandmother would have my hide if I let silver polish near any of her Indian jewelry. She liked everything to look like dead pawn. That’s old jewelry that was pawned by the owner, but never redeemed,” Ave said to Juniper. “She said that was how you could tell the real New Mexicans from the people who moved there from out of state. Polished
concho
belts so bright they could blind a person, hah! There’s nothing like Christmas in New Mexico. You girls are too young to remember the
farolitos
atop adobe walls, candlelight blinking against the snow, and the smell of piñon in the air.” Ave turned to Juniper. “Folks would light small bonfires in their driveways and everyone walked up Canyon Road. It’s magical, Juniper. Maybe someday soon your new mom will take you to see it.”

“I’d love to,” Glory said. “But right now I think it’s time to head over to Butterfly Creek.”

“Mom, let me know if tonight’s too much for you. Bart and I can take you home whenever you feel like it. You can sleep in the backseat of the Volvo without a worry,” Halle said, looking at Glory. “It has heated seats.”

“Well, let’s go see the fabulous car before it gets dark,” Glory said. “You guys can follow my truck over to the party.”

“I just hope it won’t be too cold for Mom,” Halle said. “I’ve never heard of an outdoor party in December. Not to mention held at a general store.”

Bart helped Ave to her feet and she kissed Edsel good-bye.

Glory bit her tongue.

JOSEPH

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming out tonight to celebrate the annual Christmas Eve tradition of turning the Butterfly Creek General Store into a honky-tonk Christmas,” the banjo player said into the microphone with the word
BLUE
in chrome across its front. “We’ve been playing together since Adam was a pup. Our sets are eight songs long, danceable, and we don’t get fancy unless Clyde over there gets into the sangria. If you have any requests, take it up with Senora Candelaria, who is gracious enough to keep asking us back every year. Okay, boys. Let’s get down to business.”

Joseph watched the banjo player step back and turn to the guitarist, who in turn nodded to the fiddle player, and seconds later a bluegrass version of the gospel tune “Are You Washed” drifted out into the night air, rocking the Chinese lanterns strung overhead from table to table. Joseph held his camera in front of him, considering. Live music gave a photographer the opportunity to get creative with low stage lighting. Using the flash was taking the easy way out. Worrying about it so much you missed the shot was “chimpy.” A fast shutter speed was essential, unless you were going for some artsy outcome, but all he wanted was a reminder of this evening, something he could give to Lorna for being so nice to him while he was here.

“
Cámarografo
, you’re holding that little box in front of your heart like a shield,” Lorna scolded him. “Put it in your vehicle and ask some hottie to dance while you’re still young.”

Joseph smiled at Lorna, who was gussied up in a pink, pearl-snap cowboy shirt, a pink suede fringed vest over that, jeans with rhinestones down the sides, and pink python boots. “You’re the only hottie on the scene.”

“Nonsense,” she said close to his ear, and pointed out several women who had overdone the makeup and wore stiletto heels. “Any one of those girls would be
encantada
if you asked them to dance.”

Joseph leaned close to her ear and said, “
Bajaron la calle dando brincos
.”

“That’s not true. They aren’t expecting ‘happily ever after,’ Joe. It’s Christmas. Nobody wants to be alone.” Lorna let go of his hand and went off to manage other folks’ lives.