“John, are you remembering anything at all?”
“I recall normal functioning things but not people, history, family.” He looked sideways but not before she caught the glint of tears swimming in his pupils. “I know I love Christmas, so I must have had a good childhood, right?”
Pam frowned not wanting the conversation to go there, but helpless to stop the little girl in her from venting. John sucked raw emotions out of people as effortlessly as he slurped up the sides of his dripping ice cream.
“My father followed the Grinch-model and kept me clear of everything Christmas, but I am pleased to say Cedar Springs is contagious and I’m making up for the lost time in that area.”
John’s voice spontaneously rang out in recitation.
“Boo you Grinch! And boo to Scrooge!
Make way for Santa Claus!
For Rudolf waits with cheeks of rouge
And candy balls stuffed in his jaws.
The sleigh’s stacked, the jolly man packed,
For his yearly overnight spree!
So, eat his fumes, you sons of ruin,
And bury your heads in shame.
Ready, set, go! The season’s aglow!
Nothing can stop it now!
For children asleep, dream of wishes unseen,
Heralding Christmas – love’s joy to gleam.”
“Well done, John Doe. You are a poet and a fan of Christmas. A great start to your recovery. And that holiday chant settles it. Scrooge and the Grinch have met their match in Santa Claus and children’s hearts.” Pam’s enthusiasm waned slightly. “For me, freedom to dream took many years, but here I am, my nagging Grinch gone.”
“That sounds insensitive. Didn’t you love your father?”
“I always thought I did but discovered too late that my feelings were a poor substitute for love. Not one of my prouder moments.”
Pam wiped the cream from her mouth. John continued to gaze at her with those knowing eyes that seemed able to reach into her soul and sew stitches across painful gashes in her heart. Somehow, she couldn’t stop from bearing the inner child to him.
“I once overheard a conversation on the phone. I think I was ten. An extremely upset woman was on the other end. My father was threatening her. By the end of the confrontation, I knew they were discussing me. I learned much later that she was my birth mother. I never even knew she was alive or that he’d married her. Dad’s second wife was deceased at that point, and he followed her to the grave a week later after suffering a long bout of cancer. I fumed through both their funerals – angry for the secrets that no one had deemed important enough to explain to me.”
“Since his death, have you connected with your birth mother?” John asked.
“Not at all. When I cleaned out the house for the estate sale, I searched everywhere for clues of her existence, but nothing. Whatever the reason for the separation, it was as if the woman never existed. Wiped entirely from the family tree. If it weren’t that his guilty conscience won over on his deathbed, I’d still be in the dark. With his final breath, my father confessed the scant little that I do know. I was furious, but the man was dying, and I attempted to stay composed and not let him see how deeply he’d hurt me. His last words uttered to me was him swearing I was better off without her – that I was a sensible young woman and had a great future ahead of me. My birth mother would only hinder that. End of story! She has never shown her face, so I gather his threats to her are still valid – even from his grave.”
Pam stood and pitched the last of the sugar cone in the garbage container. “You’re right! Ice cream is a stupid idea so early in the morning.” She started to roam down the sidewalk, and within a minute John caught up.
“Whoa! We can go to the bakery if you’d prefer.”
Pam halted, and silent tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. “Who are you, John Doe? Only two people know my past, Tom and Denise. Then in you walk – or rather roll into the emergency room – and wheedle my darkest secrets out of me without even trying.”
John shrugged his shoulders and handed her a tissue. She blew hard then turned to continue a slower trek down the street.
“So, it’s the bakery, then?” he asked.
Pam smiled despite herself, and a relief-filled hiccup burst unexpectedly from her mouth. A hand flew up, and she covered her face, embarrassed at the startling interruption. From between her fingers, she saw the grin growing on John’s face.
“Okay, you win. How about grabbing a drink and something light and fluffy from the lunch café? As you know, Denise’s new baker at the Christmas store is spectacular. The woman is already growing a reputation for greatness, and she’s been here less than two weeks.”
“Lead on,” said John.
Early shoppers already filled the store. The new shipment was on the centrally located Christmas in July display, and eager ornament fanatics were scooping them up. They walked to the counter, ordered two of today’s special treat, caramel flavored cappuccinos and then secured an inside table to soak in the cool air conditioning.
“I’m glad Christmas only comes twice a year in Cedar Springs. I overindulge every time. Can’t seem to help myself,” Pam said. She bit off a corner of the cream-filled, blueberry pastry savoring the taste.
John devoured a man-sized bite, and soft goo squeezed out from all sides and overflowed his mouth. He created quite a messy spectacle. Pam laughed at the sight. Reaching across the table, she dabbed at the corners of his lips with a napkin and for her efforts, received an upsetting sensation in return. He experienced it too, for their eyes locked and John studied her emotions,
