The day the house shifted, Evangeline decided Christmas would include Lorrie and Nells. She’d felt terrible all Thanksgiving for not inviting them. Lorrie had done so much for her. And it’d been more than the salads. The night before Isaac returned from Pennsylvania, Nells was off with a friend and Lorrie had stayed and eaten dinner with her. Evangeline got to talking, and that talking caused more talking, and more, until she was drunk on her words and everything came spilling out. Almost everything anyway. She didn’t mention what had happened in Bremerton. Given her due date, that nasty event didn’t factor in.
Lorrie knew that either boy could be the father and that it’d been only once with each. Evangeline didn’t give details about the night with Daniel, only that she hadn’t really wanted to but guessed she hadn’t been clear. Lorrie’s face reddened when she said that, the muscles of her jaw pumping. She said quietly, “As long as you know it’s the boy’s job to make sure you’re on board. This is no longer a go-for-it-unless-the-girl-is-screaming world.”
Evangeline said yeah, she knew, and left it at that.
What she couldn’t get over was this: Lorrie had to know she was likely the reason Jonah and Daniel were dead. Yet here she was. How did that even make sense?
Of course, Isaac knew none of this, and Evangeline couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She hoped Lorrie would fill him in somehow and spare her the embarrassment. In the meantime, when Evangeline said she planned to ask Lorrie and Nells for Christmas dinner, Isaac glared at her, opened his mouth and shut it a couple of times, then said, rather pompously she thought, “I’m glad you’re inviting them. They’ve been through so much.”
But every bit of the planning and decorating had been a torture to him. At first, he claimed Quakers didn’t believe in celebrating Christmas, that every day was a holy day and no single day should be called out. When she pointed to the decorations stacked neatly in the basement, he claimed they were Katherine’s, that Catholics were into all that.
“But you went along,” she said.
“I was willing to accept it as a cultural holiday, that’s true.”
After that, he didn’t argue, but when he was on the ladder stringing lights on the tree, he started gagging like food was coming back up. He scrambled down, almost falling, and fled to his room. Evangeline knocked on his door to make sure he was okay, then finished draping the lights and garlands and hung all the ornaments she could find.
She lit the tree and thought it was beautiful. She believed it would cheer him, because it did her. But when he came out hours later, his head twisted at the sight as if it burned his eyes. She saw then how the tree might look, the dark wings of branches beneath the bright lights, like a glowing angel of death.
After dinner that night, she climbed the ladder and began to dismantle the lights and ornaments. When Isaac saw her, he said, “No. Leave it. Please.” He seemed unable to say more. She didn’t know what to do. “Please,” he said again, and she stopped and came down.
Afterward she had worried how Christmas would go, but it had been too late to cancel. So she was happy to see Isaac peeking at the potatoes saying scalloped were his favorite and accepting Lorrie’s offer to glaze the ham.
* * *
—
OTHER THAN THE AWKWARD CAR RIDE, Evangeline hadn’t spent much time with Nells. The girl had shown up with Lorrie a time or two but had barely said a word. Thirteen was a lifetime ago. Evangeline was struggling to remember what middle-schoolers talked about when Nells saw the dining-room table and said, “It doesn’t look very Christmassy. Can we make it more festive?”
Given Isaac’s reaction to the tree, the prospect worried Evangeline, but she guessed they could come up with something that wouldn’t trigger the past. After rummaging in the basement, they draped the buffet at the head of the table with a fake pine garland and strung it with gold lights. Outside, they collected pinecones and holly and wreathed them around a few worn candles. They cut gold and silver curling ribbon into short pieces and tossed them on the table like confetti. It was a mess but had a certain exuberant air. Nells lit the candles and drew the curtains, saying, “It’ll be magical.” But the curtains were thin lace, so nothing much changed, and Nells’s shoulders slumped.
“It’ll be beautiful later,” Evangeline said, reaching out, touching Nells’s back.
Nells startled, swung around swatting just as Evangeline’s hand flew to her belly.
Evangeline had been having tiny flutters for a week. The doctor had dismissed them as gas, said it was too early for anything else. But there it was again. No doubt about it now. It was the baby! How strange that her body had done this thing—created a separate being, a creature who lived inside her and was now knocking as if asking to be let out.
“You okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you. I really didn’t.” Nells was talking fast and alarmed, as if she had a history of inflicting grievous injury with the bat of a hand.
“I’m fine,” Evangeline said. “It’s just some stomach stuff.” Lorrie hadn’t told Nells about the pregnancy. At not quite four months, Evangeline’s baby bump could still be hidden in the abundance of wintry clothes.
Nells settled a bit, said, “I’m sorry. Sometimes my arms just do stuff on their own.”
“I shouldn’t have surprised you like that. And don’t worry, your hands aren’t quite the dangerous weapons you think they are.”
Nells laughed. Evangeline liked her. Sure, her default setting was pissed off, and she had Jonah’s jumpiness, but given everything she’d been through, Evangeline thought it was a miracle she was breathing at all.
With the table done, they scanned the radio stations, found one playing Christmas music they liked—“Jingle Bell Rock,” “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,” not the churchy stuff. Lorrie and Isaac were talking in the kitchen, even laughing. Evangeline peeked in. They stood side by side, studying Isaac’s mother’s recipe for cranberry-orange butter. Maybe Evangeline had it wrong, but for the first time their bodies seemed relaxed near each other, and when Isaac turned toward Lorrie, he didn’t seem the slightest bit angry. In fact, his old worn face looked a little glowy.
* * *
—
WHEN THE BROWNED HAM AND POTATOES were done and the salad had been tossed, when the house was filled with the smells of sweet meat and baked rolls, when the candles were relit and “The Chipmunk Song” was playing, they stood at the table. They bowed their heads, and Isaac said, “We are blessed.”
When it became clear that was it, Lorrie said, “Amen.”
They straightened. Isaac sat on the side nearer the kitchen, fussing with his napkin. Lorrie sat next to him, across from the two girls. He startled when he realized where she was. Anyone with eyes could see he didn’t want her there. Which made no sense. They’d almost been cuddling in the kitchen.
Lorrie sprang up, asked if she could sit at the head of the table, would he mind? “It’ll be easier to run to the kitchen.”
“If that would be more convenient,” he said, smiling in a thoroughly unconvincing way. It was an odd arrangement, the two girls on one side, Isaac alone on the other and Lorrie at the head.