The Color of the Season (22 page)

I swallowed hard over a dense lump in my throat. “It’s pretty darn good, Mrs. James.”

She rose to her feet. “And I think it’s time you started calling me Margie,” she said with a smile as she held out her arms.

Chapter Fifty-four

It was not a nightmare that woke me one cold December night when a blizzard raged outside my bedroom window. I felt no fear or panic when my eyes fluttered open. The dream was, to the contrary, strangely comforting.

A young and happy Leah ran through a field of dandelions on a hot summer evening. The summer season was coming to an end, however, and the bright yellow wildflowers had turned to seed. They floated upwards through the air like twinkling snowflakes as she ran toward the setting sun. I was tempted to follow, but I knew she didn’t want me to. She just wanted me to watch her run to the other side.

I woke up, rose from bed and looked out at the storm.

o0o

“Do you ever dream about Leah?” I asked Holly the following night as we spoke on the phone, each of us lying in our beds.

“Sometimes,” she replied. “It’s usually something out of the past, like getting up for school and eating breakfast with her at the table in the old kitchen before the remodel. She was twelve years older than me. In many ways she was more like a mother than a sister.”

“What was the kitchen like?” I asked, feeling curious about so many things.

“It was horrible,” Holly replied with a grin. “The countertop was an ugly shade of green and there was wallpaper on the walls with bright yellow flowers.”

I tried to imagine it. “What else do you dream about?”

“Concerning Leah?” She paused. “I don’t know… There were some nightmares before she died. I once dreamed she was locked in a cage in our attic, screaming at me to let her out. At the time I thought it was because of her illness. She was essentially locked in her body and couldn’t communicate or do anything for herself. That was difficult. Or maybe that had some connection to Riley being in prison. Who knows?”

Holly told me more about the hardships her family had endured during the last few months of Leah’s life—which ended with a desperate rush to the hospital when she developed pneumonia in her final days.

“I wish you were here right now,” I said before we hung up.

“Me, too,” Holly replied. “Remind me… Why did I get this apartment again?”

I chuckled. “Because you wanted to be independent.”

“Oh yeah, that.” She sighed into the phone.

o0o

Sometime during the night, I dreamed of the kitchen Holly had described—with the green countertops and bright yellow wallpaper.

Leah sat at the table drinking a glass of milk, then she stood and wandered aimlessly through the house and into the front parlor.

The house was quiet. Empty and dark.

A Christmas tree, without decorations or gifts, stood in front of the window. She sat down on the floor in front of it and wept.

Chapter Fifty-five

As Christmas approached, I couldn’t seem to shake the overwhelming urge to drive past the James’ household on a regular basis. Sometimes I would drive by in the mornings on the way to work. Other times I checked on the house in the evenings when the street was lit up with colorful outdoor lights and life-size models of Santa Clause in his sleigh.

There was nothing festive, however, about the big red Victorian set back from the road. It looked as if no one had lived there in months. The front veranda hadn’t been shoveled since the blizzard, but there were fresh tire marks in the snow each morning, which suggested that Dr. James was still coming and going from the hospital.

I drove by late one night and saw his car parked out front. In an upstairs window, a television cast an eerie, flickering glow.

I drove home, called Holly to tell her what I had seen, and suggested we at least send her father a Christmas card.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “We should. Why don’t we pop by tomorrow night? I’ll bring some sugar cookies and a poinsettia.”

I agreed it was the right thing to do, and I hoped we’d be given a better reception than last time.

o0o

Knowing it was rare for Holly’s father to arrive home from work before 7:00 p.m., we showed up at 8:00. Unfortunately, the house was dark and his car wasn’t in the driveway.

“We probably should have called,” Holly said with disappointment as she shifted the big, red leafy plant on her lap. “But I was afraid he’d tell us not to come. Let’s go inside anyway. I still have my keys. We can drop this off in the kitchen and leave the card. You take the plant. I’ll take the cookies.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt, took the plant out of her hands and carried it to the front walk.

“What a gorgeous night,” she said, stopping to look up at the stars. “It’s so quiet. There’s not a single breath of wind.”

I looked up as well and inhaled the fresh wintry air.

“It’s so romantic,” she added. “Honestly, I’ve never felt so happy.”

“Even though things haven’t turned out so well with your father?” I asked.

She pulled her gaze from the stars to look at me. “I remain ever hopeful. Maybe the cookies will make a difference.”

“They are delicious,” I replied with a grin. Then I took note of the snow-covered veranda. “Why don’t you wait here for a minute while I clear off the steps?”

I set down the plant, returned to the car to grab the shovel out of my trunk and quickly established a path to the front door. She found the right key and we kicked the snow off our boots before letting ourselves in.

“It’s freezing in here,” she said, shivering as she switched on a light.

We removed our boots and coats. While I carried the poinsettia into the kitchen, she went to crank up the heat on the register.

Looking around, I noticed that even with Margie gone, everything was still tidy and spotless. There wasn’t a single dirty dish in the sink or a jacket left draped over the back of a chair. No slippers that someone might have kicked off under the table.

It was disconcertingly quiet.

Holly appeared and set the cookies on the counter. “There’s no Christmas tree,” she said. “No decorations anywhere. Mom always took care of that stuff and made Christmas so beautiful. It seems very lonely.”

“What do you want to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know. There’s an artificial tree in the attic. That’s where all the decorations are. We could set it up.”

“How do you think your father would feel about that?”

Holly sighed. “I have no idea. He’s always been such a mystery to me.” She thought about it for a few seconds, then turned to me. “I wonder what Leah would do in this situation.”

I immediately thought of my dream. “I’m pretty sure she would want us to set up the tree.”

“I think so too,” Holly replied. “Let’s get to it then. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”

I kissed her on the cheek and asked for directions to the attic.

o0o

By 11:00, the tree was set up and decorated in the front parlor.

“It’s lovely,” Holly said, stepping back to admire our work. “I’m going to take a picture.” She went to get her phone out of her purse, returned and snapped a photo. “Maybe I’ll send this to Mom.”

“The only thing that’s missing are gifts under it,” I said.

“You’re right.” She lowered her phone to her side. “It’s kind of sad.”

“We could come back tomorrow and bring something,” I suggested.

“Yes. Maybe.” She checked her watch. “It’s late. Dad could be working all night for all we know. We should probably go.”

Without another word, we made sure to turn off all the lights in the house—even the ones on the Christmas tree—gathered up our belongings and left.

As we drove home through the brightly lit city, we talked about our plans for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which included dinners with my family. Since it was late and we were tired, but neither of us wanted to say goodnight, Holly agreed to stay over at my place.

We also decided we’d make another attempt to visit Holly’s father.
When
was the only question? We were still discussing options when there was a sudden urgent knock at the door.

Chapter Fifty-six

“It’s your father,” I said to Holly as I peered out the front window. “He’s double parked again.”

Holly, dressed in pink silk pyjamas, fuzzy slippers and a fleecy red Santa Clause robe she left here in a drawer, rose up on her tiptoes to look over my shoulder. “Do you think he’s angry? Maybe he didn’t want a Christmas tree this year.”

“I don’t know but I think we should answer it.”

She agreed and followed me down the stairs.

We opened the door to find Dr. James standing stiffly in a tailored black overcoat and blood-red scarf. He held a Christmas box in his gloved hands.

“Hi, Dad,” Holly said hesitantly.

“Hello,” he replied, his breath visible on the chilly winter air. “I know it’s late, but I noticed your lights were on.”

I cleared my throat and opened the door wider. “It’s no problem. We were up. Would you like to come in?”

Looking distinctly ill at ease, he nodded, stepped inside and followed us up the stairs.

“Can I get you anything, Dr. James?” I asked. “Coffee? A soda? Scotch?”

He didn’t look at me. “A Scotch please, Josh. Thank you.”

So far, it was the most civil conversation I’d ever had with the man. I wondered if I’d been dropped into the
Twilight Zone
. I’d certainly landed in stranger places.

“As long as you don’t mind the cheap stuff.” I went to the kitchen to fetch a bottle from the cupboard over the stove, while Holly took her father’s coat and scarf and invited him into the living room to sit on the sofa.

I poured Scotch on the rocks for all three of us and carried them in.

“Thanks,” Dr. James said.

“You must have worked late tonight?” Holly asked, glancing curiously at the Christmas box he’d set on the coffee table.

“Yes.” He took a deep swig of the Scotch. “I came home and saw the cookies and poinsettia in the kitchen, and what you did in the parlor. That was very…
kind
of you.”

I suspected it took a lot for him to cough up that word.

Holly tucked her legs up under her. “I hope you didn’t mind. I still had a key so I let myself in. Then we thought the house seemed too quiet. It needed a little Christmas spirit.”

“It did,” he replied, never quite meeting her gaze.

I found myself letting out a slow breath as I leaned back in the leather chair.

“It has definitely been very quiet at the house,” he explained, taking another gulp of Scotch and finally setting the glass down on the table. “I still can’t believe your mother’s gone. Sometimes I come home from the hospital and I imagine that she’s come back. I can smell her perfume or I think I smell cookies, but she’s never there. It’s um…” He paused. “It’s been unsettling to say the least. Especially now, at Christmas. She always made everything so special.”

I said nothing while Holly touched her father’s knee. “I’m sorry it turned out this way, Dad. It’s not what I wanted.”

He lifted an eyebrow and looked down at the floor. “Either way, you can’t deny I had this coming.”

“How do you mean?”

Of course Holly knew exactly what her father was referring to, but I understood that she wanted to hear it from
him
.

Dr. James twisted his wedding ring around on his finger. “You know I wasn’t the easiest father in the world. I demanded a lot. Riley had it the worst.”

“It was hard sometimes,” she gently said.

He shut his eyes, cupped his forehead in a hand and shook his head. “I know. I’ve been talking to someone,” he admitted. “Your mother was after me to do that for years and… Well, after she left…”

“Do you mean a therapist?” Holly asked.

He nodded. “I’m starting to realize that I’ve needed structure and rules in the house because I want to avoid the sort of conditions I grew up in. It was basically pure chaos.”

Holly and I remained quiet and her father continued.

“There were days when my father used to come home drunk, take one look around at the mess and the noise with a wife and nine kids all living in a rundown shack, and he’d fly into a rage. My poor mother couldn’t keep up with all the housework and we did our best to help out, but it was never enough.”

He picked up his drink and held it in his hands.

“You didn’t want to be like him,” Holly said. “That’s why you set all those rules—so that you would never come home to chaos.”

Dr. James’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “But I
was
like him…at least with Riley. What was I thinking? To believe you can avoid chaos where children are concerned, and Lord knows, Riley was a handful. He was always strong willed, even as a toddler. He constantly tried to push me and test me. For a long time I thought he was put here on this earth just to bring me down. The harder I’d fight against it, try to keep things in order, the more like my father I became.” He gritted his teeth and took another swig of Scotch.