Page 107 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
He emerged from the bathroom carrying his dopp kit, limping on his wrapped ankle. He didn’t even glance in my direction as he walked past me toward his suitcase.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m packing.” He moved a few shirts around to make room for thedopp kit, then closed the case, the sound from the zipper horrifyingly final.
“Packing? But why? You’re sick and you’re hurt. You should be in bed.”
“I will be. My parents’ rental apartment on State Street is vacant and they’re letting me use it.”
The breath rushed from my lungs and I had to grab the bedpost to stay upright. “But... but you don’t need to leave. I came to apologize. To tell you I know I was wrong, that I shouldn’t have left on my own last night and without telling you what was going on. It was stupid and rash, and I did it anyway.” I looked up at him imploringly. “But I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t ever break your trust again. I’ve changed. I really have. Last night taught me that I have people in my life who love me and who I can rely on. I don’t have to go it alone.”
As if I hadn’t spoken, he picked up his suitcase and walked out to the hallway and then down the stairs. I rushed after him. “Jack, stop. Please. I said I was sorry.”
He stopped and looked back at me, his face devoid of all emotion except anger. “It’s too little, too late. I’ll let you know when I’d like to see JJ and Sarah so we can work out a visiting arrangement.”
“A visiting arrangement? How long are you planning to be gone?”
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I need time away from you to think.”
“To think? About what? I love you, and I said I’m sorry. I’ve changed—please give me a chance to show it.”
“I’ve given you more chances than I can count. I just can’t live this way anymore. I love you, but it’s not enough. Not when I can’t trust you.”
He took his coat from the closet and put it on. I wanted to throw myself at him, cling to his lapels and force him to stay, regardless of how degrading that would be. I was already hollowed out, scraped clean, with only my empty shell remaining. I had no pride or shame left, just the sickening feeling that I had lost Jack, and I had no one to blame but myself.
“I’ll be back this week while you’re at work to get the rest of mythings.” He frowned. “Nola wants to stay here, although she says she’s not taking sides. She says she’s tired of acting like the only adult around here.” His gaze traveled around the foyer as if seeing it for the last time. “How right she is.”
He headed to the front door and opened it. I followed him, hoping for one gesture, one look that would tell me there was hope. He stepped over the same threshold he’d carried me over on our wedding day and met my eyes. I held my breath, waiting.
“Good-bye, Mellie.” The door closed in my face with a gentle snap.
I stood there without moving, staring at the closed door and listening to the grandfather clock chime every fifteen minutes while the light outside grew dimmer and dimmer as I waited for the worst day of my life to be over.
CHAPTER 36
A week later I sat at Jack’s empty desk in his study, attempting to address Christmas cards and trying not to notice that the framed photos of Nola and the twins were gone but the ones of me remained. I wasn’t sure what hurt more—that or Jack’s empty drawers and closet upstairs in the bedroom we’d shared. I stared at the happy photo of all of us that Rich Kobylt had taken at the Pineapple Fountain, the twins in their mismatched outfits and the dogs wearing nothing at all. And there was Jack, the center of all our lives, his arm casually thrown around me as I looked up at him with a wide smile.
I felt the familiar knot in my throat as I closed a card and shoved it into an envelope. I’d thought about not sending them this year, as if I might be perpetuating a lie. But the little stubbornness I clung to allowed me to believe that Jack would come back. I would give up coffee and doughnuts for life if I could be permitted to hang on to that one bit of stubbornness that made it possible to get out of bed each morning and face a new day.
My phone buzzed and I felt the thrill of anticipation as I looked at the screen to see if it was Jack. Even the short, terse texts regarding his scheduled visits with the twins gave me a lift, as these notifications wereproof that he hadn’t forgotten my existence. It was the best I could hope for right now.
This text was from Suzy Dorf, reminding me of our chat when she’d asked me to let her interview me about talking with ghosts. She’d offered that in exchange for not telling Rebecca what she’d discovered about the Vanderhorsts and the spy ring. Not that any of that mattered anymore. I wished she’d been in the cemetery the night Marc was dragged into the mausoleum. That might have killed two birds with one stone.
I slid my thumb across the screen to erase the text and pretended I hadn’t seen it, promising myself that I would do the grown-up thing and call her back. Just not right now. I hadn’t even put the phone back down when something soft struck me in the back of the head. I looked at the floor where the object had fallen and saw Adrienne’s red heart-shaped pillow. It had been in my closet on the back of a shelf the last time I’d seen it.
I picked it up and was fingering the ruffled edge when the doorbell rang. My heart skittered, and I almost heard Jack’s words in my head about there being no such thing as coincidence. I ran across the foyer to throw open the door, then stood staring at my visitors, forgetting to hide my disappointment that it wasn’t Jack bringing back the twins himself instead of using Jayne as our go-between.
Instead Jayne, Veronica, and Rebecca stood on the piazza with bright smiles and what looked like a large doughnut box from Glazed, the sugary smell wafting toward me. When I didn’t say anything, Veronica said, “We thought we’d stop by to cheer you up.”
I tried to smile, to thank them for their kindness, but I failed miserably as my lips would only tremble. “Unless Jack is in that box, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to cheer me up right now.” I blinked rapidly, embarrassed to find myself on the verge of tears. Again. I thought I’d reached the point of having none left, wishing I could stop so I wouldn’t have to keep telling my work associates and clients that I had winter allergies.
“Oh, Melanie,” Jayne said, stepping forward and enveloping me in a hug as the others moved past us into the foyer. “We—and the doughnuts—are here to get you through this. And you will get through this.”
I sniffled into her shoulder. “But I don’t want to get through this. I just want him back.”
“Come with us,” Veronica said, steering us all into the parlor.
Mrs. Houlihan appeared and greeted everyone, then returned shortly with a tray carrying coffee, cups, and a plate of her Christmas cookies, and placed it in front of me. She patted my shoulder as she left, either in commiseration or as an apology for depriving me all season of her baking confections. I smiled my thanks, although I knew I couldn’t eat anything. She’d been tempting me with all my favorite foods, but I could barely find the energy or enthusiasm to do much more than rearrange the food on my plate to make it look like I’d eaten more than a bite or two.
