The Christmas Secret by Donna VanLiere Page B

that kind of money and deep down I was too embarrassed to ask for help. The phone rang on the other side of the door and I pushed it open. My thighs felt like Jell-O as I crossed to the kitchen and saw on caller ID that it was Brad. I hated him and his phone calls and his young friend he sent into the restaurant today. I despised the constant struggle and worries and inability to get ahead. Zach called me from his room and I pushed a dish towel to my mouth, listening as the phone continued to ring.
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    After the blow from Ed I lacked the physical and mental energy to do much with the tree so I relegated myself to untangling lights and putting hooks on the ornaments. I didn’t stop Zach when he put too many lights on the tree so it looked like a small explosion in our window or Haley when she put cotton balls on each branch to look like snow, and I didn’t say a word as most of those white, puffy balls ended up on the table. As soon as the last snowman washung on a branch I made the kids brush their teeth and go to bed.
    Zach and Haley had shared a room up until three months ago when he said she talked too much as he tried to fall asleep. We needed another bedroom but this was all I could afford. I kissed Zach’s forehead and pulled the blankets up to his neck. “What about stories, Mom?”
    â€œNot tonight,” I said.
    â€œYou didn’t read last night, either.”
    â€œThe tree pushed everything later tonight. I’ll read extra books tomorrow,” I said. He didn’t look like he believed me and I didn’t blame him. In his eyes I could see what I was becoming or failing to become. I kissed his head and crossed the hall to my bedroom to tuck Haley in bed.
    She grabbed my hand before I could leave. “Go to bed now, Mom.”
    â€œI can’t. I need to wash the dishes.”
    â€œStay in here while I fall asleep. See,” she said, closing her eyes, “I’m almost asleep already.” I tried to pull my hand away. “Please, please,” she said, keeping her eyes closed.
    I slid into the bed next to her and sat on top of the comforter, running my finger over her forehead. I had no idea who she looked like. It wasn’t Brad and she only had my hair but the rest of her belonged to someone else in the family, maybe my father. Too many times I looked at myselfin the mirror wondering what parts of him I had inherited. I crept my fingers down Haley’s arm and she smiled, pretending to sleep. I wondered how old she would be when the world would start working her over as it had done me and at what point her childlike innocence would end. Would it be during the next heated battle between Brad and I or later when some kid makes fun of her crooked teeth and lack of physical ability? When would she go through the door that lets in her future and would she be prepared? I watched her breathe and the crescent smile fell into a loose O. A collection of children’s books and some of my favorite novels were stacked on my nightstand. I picked up
Pride and Prejudice
and looked at the bookmark. It was my third time reading the book but I had started this read three months ago. My heart raced at the thought of Ed and Brad and Christmas and I slid my legs off the bed. I kissed Haley’s forehead and wished to be more like her: able to trust despite the news, able to laugh in spite of the failures, able to cheer despite the darkness, and able to believe in goodness in spite of the hazards in the road.
    I walked to the kitchen and stood in the middle of it, staring at the mess on the countertops, the bills in the basket, the letter from Ed, and the off-white walls and white appliances. I was so tired of off-white walls and white appliances. My marriage had been off-white walls and white appliances—blah and nothing remarkable. I wanted colorand radiance and a window to let in the light. I opened the drawer under the phone and pulled out a notepad and pen and wrote