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A bird warbled its own song. For a moment Julia didn’t notice. Then it struck her that the birdsong matched her voice.
“Alice?” she whispered.
“Jewlee?”
Julia’s knees buckled. She looked up into the bare branches of the maple tree. Alice was there, looking down, her face pale with fear and lined by worry, she said, “No leave?”
“Oh, honey . . . no leave.”
Alice jumped down from her perch in the maple tree.
Julia scooped Alice into her arms and held her tightly. She felt the little girl tremble and knew how scared she’d been.
Julia pulled back. “I’m sorry, Alice.”
A trembling smile formed on her face. “Stay?”
“Yes, honey. I’ll stay.”
Alice touched Julia’s face, wiped her tears. “No water,” she said, sounding worried.
“Those are just tears, Alice. Tears. And they mean I love you.”
Ellie walked up just then and squatted down beside them. “There’s our girl,” she said with a sigh.
Julia looked up at her sister through a blur of tears. “What’s the local lawyer’s name?”
“John MacDonald. Why?”
“I want to start adoption proceedings the day after Christmas.”
“Are you sure?”
Julia pulled Alice against her even more tightly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
BY NOON ON CHRISTMAS DAY MAX HAD BEEN TO THE HOSPITAL TO VISIT his patients and the few children on the ward; he’d also ridden his bicycle fifteen miles, dropped off a donation at the Catholic church, and called every member of his family.
Now he stood in his quiet living room, staring out at the gray-washed lake. It was raining so hard that the entire backyard looked colorless; even the trees.
He should have put up a Christmas tree. Maybe that would have helped his mood, although he couldn’t imagine why it would. He hadn’t bought a tree in seven years.
He went to the sofa and sat down, but he knew instantly that it was a mistake. Ghosts and memories crowded in on him. He saw his mother sitting on her favorite chair, studying bugs through a magnifying glass . . . and his dad, sleeping on his Barcalounger, with a hand pressed to his wrinkled cheek . . . and Susan, knitting a pale blue blanket. . . .
He picked up the phone and called the hospital. “It’s quiet here,” he was told. “Don’t come i
n.”
Hanging up, he got to his feet. He couldn’t just sit here, remembering other Christmases. He needed to do something. Go somewhere. Climb a mountain, maybe, or—
See Julia.
That was all it took: the thought of her, and he was in motion.
He got dressed, jumped in his truck, and drove to her house. Even though he knew he was being an idiot, he couldn’t help himself. He had to see her.
He knocked.
Julia was laughing as she answered the door, saying something. When she saw him, her smile faded. “Oh. I thought you were going to L.A. for Christmas.”
