“Look, I know you can do it, Mom. If you just take this part here-”

And she hated it when Johnny was tactful. He grinned at her, understanding her baleful gaze far too well for a nine-year-old.

“Give up, Lorna,” Freda suggested from across the room.

“That would show lack of character.” She frowned, snatching up the part Johnny had pointed to…once he’d gone on to the chemistry set in front of the tree.

“Honey, you’ve got to have the courage to admit when you’re licked,” Freda began, then suddenly wailed, “Brian, you’re supposed to play with the presents, not the boxes!”

“I’m building a fort, Mom.”

Lorna’s living room was a disaster zone of tinsel, wrapping paper, bows and boxes. The tree was a spruce, because she loved live Christmas trees, although very little of its green showed. Melted-down candies hardened in molds and strung with wire caught the open light from the windows. Quilted ornaments, decorations made of baked flour and salt and water and paint, small framed pictures, popcorn, cranberries, lights, Christmas cards… Every branch of the tree was laden with colorful decorations.

Lorna and Johnny had opened presents with Freda and Brian on Christmas morning for the past two years. Later, the Noonans were going to a Christmas dinner with Freda’s father, but Lorna had backed away from the enthusiastic invitation to join them. She had bought a six-pound turkey and all the trimmings for herself and Johnny. Christmas had always been a lonely time for her, particularly since her father’s death, yet Johnny went a long way toward making up for that. She’d tried to set up their own rituals, to make it a special day for him. Just playing and being with him, trying out all his new toys. Caroling, a walk in the woods, a drive to see the Christmas lights, just talking, a special renewal of the relationship with her son…

She clicked two plastic parts together and reached for another, glancing unobtrusively at Johnny. He was still in pajamas, his cowlick sticking straight up, his bright eyes engrossed in the instructions for his chemistry set. She loved that little urchin more than life. And though she tried hard not to be overly dependent on him, Lorna knew she needed Johnny this day.

Matthew hadn’t called.

Eight days… She’d stopped expecting him to. One part of her was never going to forgive her for bringing up the subject to him that night, when everything had been going so well, when she had still been in the burst of unbelievable excitement over being with him, just loving him, needing nothing else…Why had it mattered so much? His respect and trust…the loneliness clawing at her insides certainly didn’t give a damn.

“Mom. Do you have any objection if I make some fire water?” Johnny asked absently.

Freda groaned.

“It’s like a volcano,” Johnny explained, with a careful glance at Freda. “Brian and I can do it together.”

“Exactly how much fire is involved in fire water?” Lorna queried, picking up another plastic part and studying it from both sides.

“It says, ‘will make a magical colorful flame.’”

Freda groaned again.

“Go to it,” Lorna acquiesced. Johnny leaped to his feet with a beaming Brian in his wake and headed for the kitchen. Her son patted Lorna consolingly on the shoulder as he took the time to nudge his toe at part nine of her Zoid. She snatched it up, no longer proud.

While the boys were chattering in the kitchen, Freda sat down on the carpet, picking up instructions on the Zoid. “Honey, you smell like dime-store perfume.”

Lorna grinned, not looking up from parts ten, eleven and twelve. “So do you.”

“I tried to talk Johnny into buying you a less…overwhelming scent.”

I tried to talk Brian into giving you a less…overwhelming scent.”

They laughed, comfortable with each other. The boys had both presented their mothers with huge bottles of cologne, colorfully wrapped, with great pride. As far as Lorna was concerned, that made up part of the smell of Christmas. Johnny had chosen Lily of the Valley this year. Actually, she almost liked it. Last year the scent reminded her of a Detroit hooker on Twelfth Street; it might even have deterred potential customers.

Freda studied the half-assembled Zoid and handed her a part. “You can turn off that big smile for a few minutes,” she said absently.

“Pardon?” Lorna glanced up.

“You’ve lost weight in the last week.” Freda glared balefully at her. “It takes me a year to lose three pounds on a strict diet. If they ever clone people, I hope you’re not on the list.”

Lorna smiled absently; once, Freda’s remarks would have elicited a full-hearted chuckle at the least. “This fits. Have you got the next one?” she asked. The Zoid now had clawlike hands and looked properly ferocious; it was only missing parts of the body and legs.

“I want you and Johnny to come to dinner with us today.”

Lorna glanced up again. “It’s nice of you to ask us, Freda, but honestly, no thank you. We’re fine here, and Christmas has always been a special time for you and your dad.” She frowned. “We’ve covered all that.”

Freda handed her another part. “You know damned well you don’t really want to be alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Johnny.”

“You’ve got circles under your eyes. You’re trying like hell to keep a smile on your face. You’re gaunt and haggard.” Freda took a quick breath.

Lorna glanced toward the kitchen, delighted at the sound of the children’s laughter. “Dammit. I’ll have to get a refund on that erase-circles makeup. I paid a fortune for it.”

“He used you,” Freda accused roughly.

Lorna sat up, snapped the thirteenth part into place and stared at Freda. “No one,” she said softly, “used me. He was perfectly wonderful to me, Freda. Don’t think that. And stop worrying. Why on earth are you wasting all this time worrying?” she asked irritably. “I’m fine. Do you think I haven’t coped with worse situations than this?”

Freda sat back, silent, and handed Lorna the parts to the silly Zoid. Gradually, the plastic form achieved its shape. Lorna spent all her concentration on the trivial task, and refused to think about anything else.

She had no intention of crying. It was Christmas. Holidays made some people cry. She wasn’t going to be one of those…

One part of her scolded, but…well, there was another part. The relationship with Matthew couldn’t have gone on. Every time she bought something from a male clerk; every time she spoke with a man at a party; every time she laughed with a repairman, she would wonder if Matthew was suspicious of her. Richard would have been. Richard had been. She’d never been able to breathe in front of a masculine person without Richard being jealous and suspicious. She could not get involved with someone who didn’t trust her. Though Matthew had said the past didn’t matter to him, she would forever have walked the plank of uncertainty, would never have been able to convince him that she had never been promiscuous, that she’d had no affairs, that Johnny was of his blood-the things that mattered deeply to her. Matthew could not understand her, not in the way that counted, if he didn’t understand what she had been through. Being sentenced without a trial, the desperate need she had for his trust, the fears that made up her nightmares…

Mom! C’mere!”

Freda clicked her tongue as Lorna rapidly brushed away the single tear on her cheek and got to her feet.

“This is going to be a perfectly wonderful day,” she told Freda.

“How I hate men.” Freda more slowly uncoiled herself and then dropped back down on the carpet. “I’ll finish this Zoid. I have a feeling you’ll have more than you can handle in the kitchen.”

Lorna didn’t mind the chaos in the kitchen. She applauded the rainbow of smoke spouting from the paper volcano, laughed at Johnny’s triumphant smile. They had raided her cupboard for baking soda, evidently a necessary ingredient for volcanoes. There was a trail of it on the floor.

Candles were flickering in the windowsills, red and green, scenting the kitchen with cinnamon and pine. More ornaments hung from her windows, hard candies that reflected the light like stained glass. The turkey was still defrosting on the counter, now surrounded by a variety of vials from Johnny’s chemistry set. Some tinsel had made its way to the floor; a strand of it lay on her son’s shoulder, another in Brian’s hair. A second tiny Christmas tree was perched on the far corner of the kitchen table, just a foot high, decorated with ribbons and bows… Lorna had

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