Becca’s body literally shook with more glee than could be contained by a full-grown adult, much less by a five-year-old. She started dancing in place once again as it fought to escape. Tugging on Merrie’s arm she demanded, “C’mon, Mare-ree! Hurry! C’mon! Santa! We kin be first…”
Miss Ruth stood up and pointed toward the back of the store, then smiled at Merrie and gave her a wink. “Go all the way to the back, sweetheart. I’m sure he’ll be out to see you very soon.”
“Thank you,” Merrie muttered, forcing the words out as nicely as she could, even though she didn’t feel very much like being polite anymore.
Still dragging her feet, she stumbled along behind her sister, who seemed to need no help whatsoever finding the Jolly Elf’s lair. The farther back they went down the aisles, the less crowded it became, until finally it seemed there was nobody around but them. Bremerton’s wasn’t as huge as the fancy department store in Mais, but it was still really big. Or it seemed that way to Merrie, at least. Now, looking back over her shoulder she couldn’t even see the entrance anymore. And, no matter how hard she listened, even the tick, tick, tick of the electric train was gone. All that remained was the annoying Christmas music from above and distant voices of the shoppers.
Becca came to a halt the moment they stepped out into the open area at the back of the store. She uttered a soft “Wow… North Pole…” but other than that she remained quiet, staring in wonder at the cardboard cutouts and bunched up blankets of glitter-covered felt “snow” that surrounded the decorated throne-like chair. The smell of peppermint candy canes mixed strongly with the other odors that were still floating around the inside of the store. It seemed to Merrie that God was intent on torturing her at every turn with smells and sounds…and just everything.
If only she knew what she had done to make him so angry at her.
She looked around, but the Jolly Elf was nowhere to be seen. Display stands were bunched together to one side of the area, arranged in an organized sort of mess; all to make room for the fake North Pole scenery that was now holding her little sister’s attention. On the wall, to the left of the cardboard fireplace and plastic tree and empty pretend presents, was a large door. Attached to it was a sign that read EMPLOYEES ONLY.
“That’s probably where ‘Santa’ is really taking his break,” she thought to herself.
Merrie’s stomach was now churning more, and she pressed the palm of her free hand against it. Even through her coat she could feel her insides gurgling and somersaulting. If only Sister Regina hadn’t made her eat that lunch, then maybe, just maybe it wouldn’t hurt so badly right now. And maybe she wouldn’t feel so much like she needed to puke.
She swallowed hard and wondered how much longer they would have to wait. She really wished this would all be over. If Mister Babbs would just come out here right now in his red suit and listen to Becca for a couple of minutes and give her a candy cane, they could leave. Maybe Mom would be finished with the shopping then, and they could go home.
Home. Safe. Then she could wait for Daddy and tell him what happened. He could fix this. She just knew he could. He had to. Because, if he couldn’t, then she really was going to Hell-if she wasn’t already there, that is.
Merrie squeezed her eyes tightly shut and wished as hard as she could for Santa to appear and get this over with. Wishing hadn’t worked before, but this one was just a little wish. It wasn’t big like the others. Maybe it was just small enough to come true. Besides, she had no choice but to wish because she was too afraid to pray. If God really was mad at her, she knew he wouldn’t listen. Still, even if the wish didn’t work, at the very least she hoped Miss Ruth was right about Santa being here soon because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep herself from throwing up.
However, as she stood there concentrating she remembered something Daddy always said. Be careful what you wish for, because sometimes what you wish for isn’t what you really want at all. When she heard the door she opened her eyes, and then she knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t Mister Babbs in the Santa suit this year, and in that moment Merrie began to wish that she had never wished for anything, ever.
“Ho, ho, ho,” the sickeningly familiar laugh came from the man in the Santa suit. As he started toward them he said, “Well if it isn’t, my very, very special little helper… And, ho, ho, ho… You brought a friend to see Santa…”
CHAPTER 4
4:15 P.M. – December 22, 1975
Sheriff’s Department
Hulis Township – Northern Missouri
Clovis Meriweather started to speak but caught herself before any sound actually made it past her lips. Instead, she kept her mouth closed and bit down softly on the end of her tongue-not enough to hurt of course, but just enough to remind herself to remain quiet for the moment. The almost unconscious act was one she’d had since she was a little girl. In fact, it had started right around the time she’d heard her grandma say, “bite your tongue” in response to someone’s thoughtless comment. A year or two later, when the nuances of language began making sense to her, she realized that the instruction was really just a metaphor. However, by then it had already settled in as a quirky habit, and it just never went away.
Clovis furrowed her brow as she took a long look at the black, velvet-covered cube resting on the desk in front of her. It had been placed on the dark green blotter with a light but purposeful thump. However, the deputy who had done the placing had not yet spoken a single word. He was still standing silently on the opposite side of her desk. She knew he wouldn’t be expecting a stereotypical reaction, so she almost gave one just to trip him up; but that really wasn’t her style at all. No, this definitely called for one of her customary off-the-wall replies.
She released her tongue, pursed her lips, wrinkled her nose, and then looked upward to his face. As she figured, he was staring back at her with an expectant look in his eyes. She smiled and said, “Has it started snowing yet?”
“No,” he answered without hesitation. “Not yet, but it looks like it’s going to any minute.”
He continued to stare at her, the anxious expression intact.
She couldn’t resist making him wait. “I just heard on the radio that the weather service has issued a blizzard warning. Looks like it’s going to be worse than they originally thought.”
“Come on, Clovis…” the deputy appealed.
“Really. I’m not kidding,” she told him, staring back with an earnest expression as she nodded her head with enough vigor to tousle her layered shag of blond hair.
He sighed. “You know what I mean.”
She glanced down at the box on her desk. “Oh… You mean this?”
“Clovis…”
She cleared her throat then let out a dramatic sigh and said, “Well, Skip, I’m not quite sure what to say… I’m flattered and all, but you know darn well I’m already married.”
“Real funny,” Carmichael grunted, a slight chuckle now replacing the impatience in his voice. “You’re a regular comedian today.”
Now that she had toyed with him for a bit and delivered the expected sarcasm, she could safely embrace the girlish excitement that was bubbling inside her.
“So, should I assume this means…” she asked, leaving the crux of the question hanging in the air with an intentional pregnant pause to keep it company.
“Yeah,” he replied with a nod. “That’s what it means.”
She grinned then scooped up the small box and cradled it in her fingers as she carefully levered the clamshell open with her free hand. At almost the very instant her eyes fell on the intricate gold band adorned with a sharply faceted diamond, she breathed, “Oh Skip, it’s absolutely gorgeous…”
“You know the kind of stuff Kathy likes, Clovis. Do you think it’s the right style? Is the rock big enough? Old Man Turner said she’d looked at this setting a couple of times before, but I could exchange it if I needed to.”
“It’s perfect. Just perfect,” she returned. “I was with her when she was looking at it. She’ll love it, Skip,” she paused and then almost quivered with her now escaping enthusiasm. “Okay, so when? Christmas Eve or Christmas Day?”
“Christmas morning probably,” he said with a nod then gave her a half shrug. “That’s the plan, anyway… If I
