The Christmas Promise(43)

She sat on the edge of his desk and crossed her arms. “Just trying to see Miss Glory in you.”

He pushed away from the desk, setting his ankle on top of his knee. “You won’t see much of her in me.”

“She’s in you,” she said. “Donovan told me.” She picked up a half-eaten candy bar and took a bite.

“How is Donovan?”

“He’s tearing up Dalton and Heddy’s house and thinks he’s all that. I found a new apartment, though, so we’ll move this weekend.” She took another bite of the candy bar, thinking. “I never said thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“If you hadn’t showed up, I don’t know…”

“Don’t think about it,” Matt said.

She fidgeted with the candy wrapper. “I keep trying to piece things together. Donovan, your mom, this job. I still can’t figure it out.”

“Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe that’s the point.” He picked up pens and pencils that were scattered across the desk and placed them in the cup that was sitting on the desk’s edge.

“You sound like your mom.” She reached for a notepad and let the pages flap over her thumb. “You know, when I first met you I didn’t like you.”

He threw his arms in the air. “What? Why not?”

“I thought you were an—”

He put a hand up. “I know. Donovan told me.”

She laughed and waved the notepad up and down in front of her. “Your mom makes me think about stuff. She tells me to eat green things and to make Donovan eat them, too. She tries to teach me how to make a budget and buy groceries and she tells me not to curse in front of Donovan and warns me about men. I haven’t listened to that last part.” He smiled and leaned back in the chair, propping his feet on the desk. “She makes me believe that I’m not a lost cause, you know?”

He nodded. “I hope to be like her when I grow up.”

She got off the desk. “Good luck with that.” She opened the door and Matt threw his feet to the floor.

“Hey, wait a minute!” he said. “You didn’t say if you liked me now.”

“Ask Donovan,” she said, letting the door close behind her.





I stood in front of the Christmas tree and looked out onto the porch. “What are you doing, Gloria?”

Her voice startled me and I turned to see Miriam standing in the hall entryway. “I’m wondering if I should turn off the porch light.”

She crossed through the dark room and sat down on the sofa. “Leave it on.”

I looked at her in the half-light. “Really?”

“Shouldn’t others see it?” she asked. “Lost ones looking for the light?”

I sat on the recliner, smacking my hands on top of my knees. “Miriam, that might possibly be the most profound thing you’ve ever said!”

“Nonsense,” she said. “I’m full of insight and astute observations. Wisdom seeps through my pores.” She leaned forward and the lights of the tree lit up her face. “Have you wondered, Gloria, if there’s a reason…for all the pain?”

I rested my head on the back of the recliner. Whiskers jumped into my lap and I rubbed behind his ears. “I can’t wrap my mind around it,” I said. “But I’m sure there’s a purpose.”

She curled her legs up on the sofa. “Even if it’s self-inflicted?”

Whiskers stretched a front paw toward my face and I squeezed it in my hand. “If that’s not the case then there’s no hope for any of us.”

She stood up and her gown and robe cascaded off the couch in smooth pink folds. “Good night, Gloria. Good night, cat.”

I watched her disappear down the hall and heard the bedroom door close. For the rest of my life I could question why Matthew ran away, why he was gone for so long, and why he chose to do things that hurt him. I could ask myself things like, What if Matt hadn’t moved to this town? What if he hadn’t just stumbled onto my doorstep? Would he ever have come home? I knew I could play the “what if?” game forever. Or I could let God work beauty out of the last seven years and actually sleep at night. Whiskers jumped off my lap and I unplugged the tree, letting the porch light filter through the living room as I walked up the stairs to bed.





Matt took the bus into the city the next morning and walked four blocks to the Kirk shelter. A woman behind a semicircular desk led him through the gymnasium and wide double doors to a hallway with several doors on either side. The floors were shiny and smelled of ammonia and the walls were sage green. She opened a door to a cinder-block room, the walls of which were painted red. A cubicle divider stood in the room’s center. They passed an older man sleeping on a bed. The woman peeked around the cubicle wall. “Knock, knock,” she said. “You have a visitor.”