Finding Christmas Page 11

  Instead, she’d located where Joanne worked and had hired a sitter for Connie so she could find some way to give Joanne the proof. Today had finally worked to her advantage. The busy mall filled with Christmas shoppers kept her undercover and still could afford her the opportunity she needed.

  Joanne Fuller wandered away from the men’s shop window and headed into an open café. Donna shifted from her location and wandered nearer. The woman headed for a small table, dropped her packages on the floor beside a chair, then slipped off her coat and left it there before she moved to the counter and focused on the menu.

  Donna slipped past her and heard her order a skinny latte. The familiarity of the woman’s voice caused Donna to jerk as she moved away. How many times had she heard the woman’s panicked voice ask for information? Donna had struggled to speak that first time. Finally after the third, she’d found courage to open her mouth. Now she hoped the calls could soon end, so she and Connie would be safe.

  With Joanne Fuller occupied, Donna passed the small table and made her move.

  The rich coffee aroma hung on the air as Joanne waited for her drink. She loved the little café, a place to rest and regroup in the midst of the Friday after-work shoppers. Realizing a busy mall could be filled with shoplifters, she glanced toward the table where she’d left her packages. No one seemed to have noticed them.

  But as she watched, a harried-looking woman scooted past her table, and Joanne noticed her car keys slip from her hand. The woman faltered, then glanced down. As she bent over to retrieve her keys, the clerk’s voice drew Joanne’s attention.

  “That’ll be three dollars and seventeen cents,” she said, sliding the drink in front of Joanne.

  Joanne slipped her hand into her bag and pulled out her wallet. She counted out the change, slipped the billfold into her purse and grasped her latte. When she turned back, the woman and her keys were gone.

  Joanne returned to her table and eyed her packages. They were all there and she felt ashamed for wondering if the woman or someone else might have stolen her Christmas gifts.

  As she sipped the fragrant coffee mixture, Joanne’s thoughts settled on the anonymous caller’s recent request for money. The fearful sound of the woman’s voice and her comment about safety filled Joanne with deep concern. If Mandy were alive she could be in danger. But why and from whom? She’d hoped to hear from the woman again, but days had passed with no more contact, and that made her fearful.

  Joanne still hadn’t mentioned the incident to Benjamin, though her good sense told her more than once that she should. But she knew Benjamin too well. He’d insist on contacting the detectives, and if the caller found out, she’d back away. Joanne felt as certain of that as of the fact Mandy was alive.

  Dear Benjamin. More and more he filled Joanne’s thoughts. She’d never met a kinder, gentler man—he was known to be a powerhouse in a court room and at a bargaining table, yet he touched her life with a tenderness beyond compare. He’d brought her around.

  Lately her thoughts had drifted back to times they had spent together when Greg was alive. She recalled how he’d always shown genuine interest in her. He’d been complimentary and thoughtful even then. Greg always chuckled that Benjamin had never married and figured he’d kill a wife with kindness.

  That memory triggered a renewed thought in Joanne’s mind. Benjamin’s unfulfilled love. Since he’d told her that he’d been in love once, she’d longed to find out more about the woman. What would keep a woman away when a man like Benjamin loved her?

  The only thing that seemed possible also seemed impossible. He had said the woman loved him, but not in the same way he loved her. Had the woman been engaged to someone else? Married? Had she loved him like a brother? Joanne had no idea, and wished the question didn’t come to mind so often.

  Joanne pulled her thoughts away from Benjamin’s past and to the present. He’d suggested they do something tomorrow evening—a surprise, he’d said. He knew how the chaos and the holidays had affected her. She’d become teary too often. Last year Joanne remembered she’d gotten through the holidays with only the feeling of melancholy. Visiting her parents’ home left her feeling out of place and unwanted. Had her sense been true or only her own warped view?

  Her mother’s phone call…Joanne was sorry Benjamin had overheard it. She’d been taken aback when he’d said she sounded hard. Maybe that had been true. She didn’t want her family’s interference now, with so much going on, but she should call back. Her mother deserved the courtesy.

  With the added stress of the anonymous phone calls, she could barely contain her emotions. Tonight Joanne had no idea how Benjamin planned to surprise her, but it didn’t matter. Just being with him would be enough.

  She took a sip of the latte and let her mind return to her task as she reviewed her purchases. She’d found a great Christmas tray for Nita who loved to entertain, but she still wanted to find something special for Benjamin. She’d looked at scarves and found them too boring. Then she’d thought a leather belt might be nice, but she didn’t know his size.

  She took another drink of coffee and let it glide down her throat. Other gifts popped into her mind—a shaving kit, though she hoped his travels had ended. Then a new attaché case struck her as a good idea, but she’d seen his recently and it looked fairly new.

  A tie? Boring. Handkerchiefs? Really boring. Pajamas? Too personal. Some things wouldn’t work. A sweater? Joanne figured she could guess his size even if—She faltered as an eerie sensation washed over her. Joanne had the unpleasant feeling she was being watched.

  As her gaze swept the patrons, a woman in a dark coat turned away and rounded the corner of the food court. Joanne scanned the crowd again. A man’s gaze caught hers, and he winked. She frowned back.

  Then Joanne glanced behind her. The woman who’d dropped the keys seemed focused on her from across the mall, and when she made eye contact, the stranger turned away. Feeling uneasy, Joanne rose. She gathered her packages and clutched them against her. Was she being ridiculous, or was she being followed?

  Chapter Eleven

  “Ready?”

  “I think so.” Joanne’s hand brushed along the skirt of her silver-blue dress. “Where are we going?”

  Benjamin grinned at the curious expression on her face. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Am I dressed okay?”

  His gaze drifted down the soft suede fabric that followed her slender form to the top of her knees. She’d cinched a thin woven belt at the waist and topped the dress with a matching jacket that touched her rounded hips. He’d never seen anyone so lovely. “Perfect,” he said, unable to pull his gaze from her amber hair curving in soft waves along her face.

  She smiled at him with eyes the color of her attire, an amazing sky blue that stirred his longing.

  “If you’re sure,” she said.

  “I’m positive.”

  When Joanne pulled her coat from the closet, Benjamin took it from her and held it out as she slipped in her arms. She gave him another puzzled glance over her shoulder, but he only smiled, anxious to surprise her.

  Once they were in the car and the motor kicked in, warm air rose from the heater. He’d longed to ask her about the calls, but he hadn’t, afraid he’d rile her again. She’d been quiet, and he’d wondered if that meant the calls had ended.

  Benjamin could feel Joanne’s gaze on his face, and he glanced at her. She looked expectant, as if waiting for him to say something.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Just wondering where we’re headed.”

  “To downtown Detroit.”

  She lifted an eyebrow and asked no more. He guessed she’d figured out that he wasn’t talking. Joanne eased back against the seat and gazed out the window.

  Maybe he was being silly not telling her, but he knew she would love the evening and he’d hoped it would relieve the stress she’d been under.

  “You’re quiet. What’s up?” He sensed she had something on her m
ind.

  “Nothing much. I’m trying to keep the problems at bay. I’m thinking Christmas thoughts,” she said.

  He slid his hand across the empty space and touched her arm. “You’re worried?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t heard anything since—” She faltered. “I don’t know. It’s been a while. I don’t know what to think.”

  If the woman had stopped calling, Joanne would soon realize it had been a hoax. “Be patient. God’s in charge, Joanne. I know that’s difficult to remember. We all want things to happen on our time, but that’s not how it always is.”

  She looked at him as if she understood but didn’t like the situation.

  He let his hand slide over hers. Her skin felt soft and warm to his touch, and he brushed his fingers along hers, enjoying the sensation and the closeness.

  Joanne’s hand shifted, and she rolled it beneath his so the palm was up, then wove her fingers through his. Her action settled in his gut and stirred his longing to take her in his arms. He’d kissed her only once. Tonight he yearned to kiss her again.

  He drove with one hand on the wheel until he had to turn the car onto Woodward. The loss of her hand against his left him feeling lonely, and Benjamin realized his life was tangled with Joanne’s more tightly than their fingers had been.

  When the building came into view, he pulled into the right lane, then turned into the parking lot. Joanne craned her neck to read the sign.

  “Detroit Symphony Orchestra Hall?” She eyed him as he followed the parking attendant’s instructions. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “You’ve always talked about this, and I thought it would be fun.”

  “The Nutcracker.” She shook her head as she gazed at him. “That’s the nicest gift in the world. You know I love this ballet. I can’t believe you’re willing to sit through it for me.”

  “I like the music.” He grinned at her astonishment. “I can handle the dancing, too, I think.”

  He pulled into the designated parking spot and turned off the engine. Before he opened the door, Joanne leaned over and captured his face in her hands. Her eyes searched his, then she gave him a gentle kiss. His heart skipped at the touch and the emotion startled him—embarrassed him, really. How could a grown man be so overwhelmed by a woman’s brief caress?

  Joanne had been surprised by her own forwardness, but she’d enjoyed it, and it had taken her mind off what she’d almost done—she’d almost mentioned the recent call from the woman.

  Forcing the worry from her mind she gazed ahead at their destination. When they reached the sidewalk, she watched the downtown traffic zip past—horns honking, motors revving, tires screeching—until the light changed to red. Benjamin took her arm as they crossed Woodward Avenue. Orchestra Hall stood close to the sidewalk, a magnificent edifice in an unlikely part of town.

  The crowd shoved inside to escape the cold, and as she and Benjamin stepped into the warmth, the usher steered them to the right and midway down the main floor seating.

  Joanne felt Benjamin’s hand against her arm, and she was filled with pleasure. When they were seated, she opened the program, then glanced at him. “You’re amazing.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so. Thank you so much for doing this.”

  “It’s for me, too,” he said.

  His look swept over her, making her limbs feel like jelly. She’d grown too close to him, was too captivated by his attention and his manners. But though they’d kissed, she feared their relationship, formed as a deep friendship, could never change. Greg would always stand between them.

  The hall lights dimmed and the orchestra opened with the great Tchaikovsky Overture. As the familiar melodies rippled through her—”Waltz of the Flowers,” “Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies,” “March of the Toy Soldiers”—her mind shifted to Mandy.

  Mandy would have turned six a couple of months ago, and Joanne knew she would have brought her daughter to see this wonderful program that captured the playful view of Christmas. Next she would have taken Mandy to see the Rockette’s Christmas program that depicted the nativity story with live animals. A child needed both at Christmas—the magic and the truth. Nothing could outshine Christ’s birth.

  Joanne realized her mind had taken a dour turn. It had slipped back to the time she’d finally accepted that Mandy had died in the icy waters. Her hope had begun to fade after she hadn’t heard anything more from the woman caller. Three days had passed. Joanne had been certain the caller would have done something by now to prove Mandy was living. The woman had sounded so sincere and so desperate. Joanne wondered if her demand had frightened her away.

  What had she expected the caller to produce? What kind of proof would make her certain? Joanne only knew that her mother’s heart had not been the same for the past two months. Something had settled there, whether intuition or premonition. It had been something unreal, yet tangible. Something bizarre, yet so believable she couldn’t let it go.

  Pulling her thoughts back to the orchestra and the stage, Joanne focused on the colorful dancers, the toy-soldier mice who marched across the stage. Though the bright melodies filled her head, sadness settled on her heart.

  When her sigh escaped, she caught Benjamin’s worried look. He shifted and placed his hand on hers. The warmth rushed through her, and his touch reminded her of their conversation. She bowed her head and prayed. If ever she needed God, it was now.

  “Happy birthday, dear Connie. Happy birthday to you.” Donna’s lone voice sang the little song as Connie grinned at her above her cake. “Make a wish, sweetie.”

  Connie lowered her head, then puffed out her cheeks and blew out the six candles. “Will it come true?”

  “I hope so.” Donna hoped for so much these past weeks, but the rays of hope seemed to be dimming.

  “Can I tell you my wish?” Connie whispered, although she didn’t need to because they were alone.

  “It’s supposed to be your secret,” Donna said, grinning at the child’s eager face.

  “It can be our secret.”

  “Okay, tell me,” Donna said, knowing no matter what the child wished for, it would probably not come true.

  “I wished we could go away forever. Just you and me.”

  Donna’s heart lurched. She bent down and nestled the child’s head against her chest, then kissed her soft hair. “I wish the same.”

  But Donna’s hopes were fading. She’d tried to get the courage to call Joanne Fuller back the evening after she’d followed her after work, but fear had stopped her—fear of Carl’s wrath and fear of being caught by the police. She could never allow Carl to be alone with Connie. His hatred had grown in the past month to the point of psychosis.

  Donna had done everything to keep her whereabouts secret. She’d blocked calls and phoned from telephone booths, even changing location with each call. But getting away seemed more and more impossible.

  Still, waiting for Donna to call again would give Joanne Fuller time to find the photo and accept the truth that her daughter was alive, and then come up with the money.

  Donna had always phoned after Joanne arrived home from work, but calling during the day seemed easier while Connie was in school. Until recently Donna hadn’t known where Joanne worked, but now that she did, calling her at work, where the lines weren’t tapped, might be wise, and getting away during the day would be easier.

  The new idea gave her hope. Today was Saturday. Sunday wouldn’t work, but Monday would. She smiled at the thought of her plan. When she glanced at Connie, the child’s face looked puzzled.

  “I bet you’re waiting for your present,” Donna said.

  “Do we have to wait for—?”

  “No, let’s open it now.”

  Connie hugged her around the neck, and Donna fought the tears that rose in her eyes.

  Joanne pulled into the driveway and turned off her car. Worship had felt lonely without Benjamin at her side. He’d been exhausted from his busy week and worrying about her, she kn
ew, and last night after their wonderful evening at The Nutcracker, he’d complained of a sore throat. She had insisted he stay home and get some rest.

  The lesson for the day stayed with her. God knew what she needed to hear, and perhaps it was best she was alone. When the pastor began 1 Corinthians 13:1, Joanne knew she had to listen, because the message of love had been clinging to her thoughts since her mother had called. “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.”

  She’d been a clanging cymbal, she feared. She thought about the cold treatment she’d given her mother. Joanne realized she had closed the door to healing just as Benjamin had said. By the time the pastor had gotten to the eleventh verse, the truth hit home. “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.”

  Joanne had been unable to give up childish things. She knew her family. She knew their ways, so why had she allowed their behavior to pull her from what she knew was right? Jesus said to turn the other cheek. She’d followed the Old Testament—an eye for an eye.

  Joanne looked up at the winter sun streaming down from the sky and melting the hard mounds of snow. Her heart had experienced the same with the warmth of God’s Word.

  She unlocked the front door and pushed it open, feeling the rush of heat from inside, but it was no stronger than the heat she felt from her resolution. Healing needed time, but she would begin today. Benjamin had roused her thoughts and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

  She hung up her coat and headed straight for the kitchen. After having a bite to eat, she resolved, she would call her parents—but as she came through the doorway she saw the light blinking on her answering machine.

  She checked the caller ID and smiled. Benjamin. She pressed the button.

  “Hi, I’ll be over shortly,” he said.

  She heard him fumble for a second.

  “It’s ten-thirty, and you should be home soon. I’ll be bringing fresh bagels!”

  Joanne grinned as she deleted the message, but refused to be swayed from her decision. She put on some coffee, then called her parents. Talking to them was a struggle, but she mentally reviewed the verses she’d heard in church and prayed she had left her clanging-cymbal days behind her.