If Ben had still been alive, it would have been his style.
She could pretend. In the absence of knowing, she could pretend the gift had come from her husband and her baby’s father. Could pretend he had only stepped out for a while.
If not Ben, then from someone who cared about her? That was almost as good.
She plugged in the little tree and its miniature white lights glowed. She returned her coat to the closet. She had her own little bit of Christmas, after all.
The phone rang. Now, she would have her answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Juli. How’s your Christmas Day? Not too lonely, I hope. Will you join us for Christmas dinner?”
“No, I’m good. Wonderful, in fact.” She threw out a feeler. “Thanks for my lovely gift.”
“What? That tiny tree? You should see the one Dad bought this year. It’s huge and already dropping needles everywhere. Or did you mean the baby book? I’m glad you like it, but it’s not so very special.”
Not Maia. “More special than you can know.”
“Sure you don’t want to join us?”
“Positive. Go enjoy your family.”
But when she hung up the phone, she did feel alone. A huge tree dropping needles everywhere might be fun. It would certainly smell Christmassy.
The night before, Juli had flipped through Ben’s Bible looking for the Christmas story. She had a vague memory of it from family number one, but with several children in the family, their house had seemed a whirlwind of activity to little Juli. They’d gone to church and someone had read the verses and little kids were dressed up in angel wings and such. Yesterday evening, she had tried to read through the New Testament passages, but so many ancient memories were called up, she found it more distressing than comforting.
The memories of her last Christmas at home were even sketchier. She remembered a tree. Being alone and hungry. Strangers, the child services people, told her she was going with them. A woman’s voice, a neighbor, was in the background talking about how she’d called them, until the strident sound of her faded into the distance.
Little Juli had wondered if mama would come for her. Juli liked having a full belly, clean clothes and other people around. Mama didn’t come. Finally, Juli relaxed and settled in.
Mama’s name was Frances. That’s all Juli remembered and all she wanted to remember.
Today, Christmas Day, with the mini-lights glowing and a scrumptious present under the tree, she felt a promise for better memories to be made.
Tomorrow she might start with a visit to Pastor Herrin and his flock in the morning.
****
On Sunday morning, she sat in her car, waiting, watching the digital clock on the dashboard. A minute before the service was scheduled to begin, she went through the doors. She snagged a bulletin from the usher and slipped quietly, discreetly, into a back pew. A few people looked at her. Some of them might remember her from when she’d come with Ben. She didn’t want greetings. She didn’t want commiserations.
She stood with a hymnal when the others sang, and bowed her head when they prayed. A stranger was in the pulpit. A guest preacher.
What was she trying to prove? That she could do this?
She slipped out during the closing prayer, dashed to her car and left the parking lot, wondering where this would lead. Where did she want it to lead?
During the week between Christmas and New Year’s, Juli focused on her artwork. Her easel was set up in the tower room near the glass doors where the light was best. She tried to paint the ocean, but she couldn’t capture the quality of the light, translucent and constantly shifting. The task was ambitious, but she kept at it. Another day she focused on the shades of tan in the sand and dry sea oats. The tower room was too high above the beach to get a close view, so she brought some of both upstairs and laid them out on a plastic tablecloth.
She liked pushing her limits without the pressure of expectations she couldn’t meet. She dabbled and played in acrylic, then knelt on the floor beside Ben’s goody box and pulled out the oil paints.
****
On New Year’s Day, Juli cuddled in her robe until nearly noon, watching TV. Finally, she went up and showered and dressed, thinking Maia might drop by now that the holidays were almost over. She hoped Maia would drop by. She’d like some good company.
Her jeans hadn’t met across the middle for two months, but her maternity pants were too large. She stood in front of the dresser mirror and held the waistband out in front of her and marveled she would fill it out one day in the not too distant future. She settled on navy leggings and a smocked top.
When she returned downstairs, someone was standing on the crossover. She’d gotten used to seeing almost no one day in and day out, especially since she, herself, rarely went out except for walks. Luke had warned her to expect it to be lonely and he’d been right. The person was standing at the far end, turned toward the ocean. When he pushed back and turned to face the house, she recognized Frankie.