Dalton and Heddy loaded the Christmas care packages into the back of their SUV and I shut my trunk. Donovan, Erin, and Miriam loaded into my car and I coordinated again with Dalton about delivering to apartments and homes on our lists before meeting at the church that was located on the downtown square. When the temperature was thirty-five degrees or colder the church staff opened the church basement and spread out cots for the homeless to sleep on. They opened their doors at seven and I wanted to be ready. We pulled up a few minutes before seven and I handed a bag of packages to Erin and Donovan and waited for Miriam. “I’ll just wait here,” she said, leaning over the backseat, yelling.
I walked to the rear passenger door, holding a bag. “It’s too cold to wait out here.”
“Just leave the keys,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
“Come on! I need help carrying these bags.”
She leaned farther over the seat. “Really, Gloria, I’ve been doing this all day and I’m not cut out for it.”
I was losing patience. “Cut out for what?” I said. “Helping people?” Miriam didn’t budge. “Move! I’m freezing out here.” Miriam scurried out of the backseat and I handed her a bag. “The red packages are for women and the green ones for men.” I noticed a woman sitting on a bench in the town square. “Oh, there’s Janet. She won’t come in till late tonight. She doesn’t like to be around people. Take a package over to her and I’ll meet you inside.”
Miriam snapped her head up to see Janet. “I don’t want to go over there and give something to a woman who doesn’t like to be around people.”
I closed the trunk. “Around lots of people. She’ll do fine with you.” I made a shooing motion with my hand and Miriam stood still, watching Janet. “Be sure you say Merry Christmas, too,” I said, screaming over my shoulder.
Miriam growled and stepped into the road. Her foot plunged into a puddle resembling a dirty, gray Slurpee and she shook her head, moaning. “I hate helping people.” She shook her foot off and walked across the street. Janet stood up and began walking through the square. Miriam hurried before Janet got away, calling out, “Yoo-hoo. Hello there,” as she ran after her.
Janet turned and Miriam waved the package in the air. “For you.” Janet took the box but didn’t say anything. “Some things…from Gloria…I mean Miss Glory…for you.” Miriam stopped, aware of how awkward she sounded. “And happy Christmas.” Miriam looked up and saw Chaz watching her from the entrance of Wilson’s. She shrugged her shoulders and heaved the bag onto her hip, heading for the church.
Carla awoke at seven that evening. She was sore and groaned as she sat on the edge of the bed, and tears filled her eyes. There was no way out. She couldn’t call the police and report Thomas; if she did she ran the risk of DFS discovering he was abusive and putting Donovan into a foster home again. She just had to figure out a way to keep Donovan away from Thomas until she could think of a way to get rid of him once and for all. She stood up and the pain in her ribs took her breath away, making her fall back onto the bed.
She cracked open the bedroom door and listened to hear whether Thomas was in the apartment. She inched her way to the front door and made sure the dead bolt and the chain lock were both secured, and then stepped into the shower. Her mother’s voice rang through her head. She had attracted losers her whole life. The only male who had been faithful and who really loved her was Donovan, and she was at risk of losing him.
At eight o’clock she opened the front door and ran into Thomas. He pulled her close to him and she screamed in pain.
“Get back inside,” he said, gripping her arm.
She felt panic swell in her chest, but she ripped her arm away. “I have to pick up Donovan and take him to another sitter before work.”
“To hell with the kid,” Thomas said. “He’s fine.” He’d been drinking; she tasted it when he pressed his mouth over hers and she winced as he held her.
She pushed away and stumbled to the parking lot.
At nine o’clock Chaz slipped into the security office and dialed information for the number of the state police in Kentucky, a state he picked at random just because Mike had a southern accent. He didn’t know who to talk to, but thought someone might be able to go through missing person files or something to see if any of them were Mike. He was transferred twice, and then ended up with someone’s voice mail. “It’s stupid to call so late at night,” he said out loud, and hung up the phone.