Page 106 of The Christmas Spirits on Tradd Street
I stood abruptly. “Why are you saying this? I thought you would be on my side.”
“Iamon your side. That’s why I’m saying this. Because someone has to. You deliberately kept Jack in the dark so you, for reasons I’ve yet to determine, could solve a mystery and keep the glory all for yourself. Even though you’d promised Jack you wouldn’t. You lied to him, Mellie, and now you expect him to applaud your cleverness. That’s not how a good marriage works. I thought you’d already learned that, but apparently I was wrong.”
I felt the strong impulse to find a disconnected phone and call my grandmother.
“She’d tell you the same thing.” My mother looked at me with knowing eyes. “No, I can’t read minds, but I know how you think. And finding someone to agree with you is not how you mature. Sometimes you remind me of a moth at a porch light, thinking that if it hits the light one more time it will get a different result. I’d like to think you’re smarter than that.”
I sat back down on the couch, deflated. “So what do I do?”
“What do you think you should do?”
She raised her brows as my eyes met hers. “Apologize?”
“That would be a good start. It won’t be enough, but it’s a start.”
My heart jerked and skidded. “What do you mean, it won’t be enough?”
“You’ve apologized before, remember? And made promises. But neither seemed to be important enough to you. You have to find a way to really mean it, and to make sure he knows it. Just realize that it won’t happen overnight. Assuming he can forgive you.” She took my hand. “Mellie, I know I’m partly why you are the way you are. I abandonedyou, leaving you to be raised by your alcoholic father. To survive your childhood you decided to rely only on yourself. And I’m so proud of you, of how you’ve succeeded despite everything. I think your resistance to change is because you’ve never wanted to forget how far you’ve come since you were that lonely little girl. Or that you’ve done it all by yourself.” She squeezed my hand. “But just because you might rely on someone else doesn’t negate any of where you’ve been or what you are. You need to learn to accept that.”
I shook my head. “I’mnotresisting change. I want to change—I’m ready for it. I just need to let Jack know.” I stood up again. “I’ll go over there right now.”
My mother let go of my hands with a sigh. I marched to the door and yanked it open. “Oh.” The street was indistinguishable from the curbs or sidewalks under the white layer of snow, the points at the tops of the iron fencing less menacing with their caps of white.
Mother came from behind me and shut the door. “May I suggest a shower and hair brushing first? There are new toothbrushes and toothpaste in the linen closet in your bathroom, and you can use my makeup. I’ll leave an outfit on your bed—something in a bright and cheerful color—and your snow boots are on the back porch steps and your coat is in the hall closet. Carry your heels so you can put them on when you go talk to Jack. Men do love high heels.”
“And you think that will work?”
She shook her head. “No. But it can’t hurt.”
I frowned. “Maybe I should walk barefoot through the snow to let him know how sorry I am.”
“It might be worth a try,” Mother said, embracing me. Holding me at arm’s length, she added, “Jack loves you so much, Mellie. And you love him, too. And you’ve got those two precious babies and Nola, who need you two to make this work. Love is a great foundation, but there has to be trust, too. Sadly, trust is a lot harder to maintain than love. You’re going to have to work very, very hard to regain his trust.” She stepped back, eyeing me up and down. “The only thing I know for sureis that looking like a hot mess isn’t a good way to start. And it will give you time to think about what you want to say. You know how badly things can go when you act and speak rashly.”
I hurried away up the stairs before I began to sob again.
•••
The winter wonderland I crossed on my walk home was something out of a storybook. Amelia texted me a photograph of the twins bundled up like Eskimos sitting in the snow next to a snowman with stick arms and a carrot nose and what looked like Oreo cookie eyes. The picture made me want to cry, so I slipped my phone back in my pocket and continued to trudge down the street.
The temperature had already begun to climb with the rising of the sun in a cloudless blue sky. The sound of dripping gutters and tree branches tittered along both sides of the street like happy birdsong. Children and adults alike were outside using anything they could find for sleds—including flattened cardboard boxes and inner tubes—spending most of their time looking for something that resembled a hill to slide down. I returned smiles and waves, but my heart felt as frozen as the snow beneath my boots.
My house on Tradd Street was oddly quiet when I opened the front door, only the sounds of the Sunday church bells from St. Michael’s echoing throughout the vacant rooms. Someone—probably my dad—had moved the furniture back into position, the temporary tables and chairs already folded and stacked in the dining room to be picked up the following day by the rental company.
The house had the sad, empty air of finality, the laughter and chatter of so many people ushered outside leaving behind only silence. Even the wandering spirits that lived there were suddenly absent, either exhausted from all the activity of the party, or worried about what was going to happen next. Or maybe that was just me.
“Jack?” I called, slipping out of my boots and putting on my heels.
I heard movement from upstairs, but no one responded.
“Jack?” I called again, climbing the stairs quickly. I stood at the top, aware of the lightness in the air, as if it had just been cleansed.
I peered into Nola’s room and spotted the jewelry cabinet, all the drawers and the top neatly closed. I thought of the hidden compartment and imagined Eliza bending forward and hiding the brooch with the four disguised rubies. I remembered examining it with Sophie, how she’d said the hinges were broken because the door had been ripped off as if by an impatient hand. I pictured Lawrence threatening Eliza to tell him where the rubies were, or spying on her to discover where they’d been hidden. He’d killed her regardless, making it look like suicide. And his own father had killed him as punishment or to get the rubies back; we’d never know. But they had made their peace with each other in the mausoleum, and Eliza and Alexander were gone, too, together finally for all eternity. Since they’d helped me find Jack, I’d no longer felt their presence. It felt good to know we’d helped one another, a connection through time that I was lucky enough to experience. I’d never thought of it that way before, and I felt my chest expand as I considered the implications.
I paused on the threshold, the white world outside bathing the walls in bright reflected light from the snow, and took a deep breath. It was as if the world was agreeing that it was time for a new start. A commitment to a new way of being. Feeling emboldened, I headed down the hallway to the bedroom I shared with Jack.
The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, expecting to find Jack in bed with tissues in a wastebasket next to him. Instead, the bed had been made, and a suitcase was opened on top of it with several of Jack’s sweaters, shirts, socks, and underclothes already packed neatly inside.
“Jack?” I called again, my voice thready.
