The Last Thing He Needs (24 page)

Tommy closed his eyes and let out a long breath as he counted to ten in his head. “I need a cigarette.”

“You quit.”

“I still need one.”

The laugh Bobby let slip didn’t help much. Tommy opened his eyes, and Bobby said, “I brought some mistletoe, if that helps.”

“If you think I’m kissing anything of yours tonight, you’ve lost your mind.”

Bobby laughed again. It seemed like he could tell Tommy was putting up a protest for the sake of it rather than hoping to gain any ground.

“How about if I do the kissing?” he asked, stepping closer.

Tommy couldn’t help but roll his eyes at Bobby. “Keep it in your pants, copper. Apparently we’re having a party.”

Before Bobby could say anything else, Judy called from the living room. “Tommy, would you help Bobby with the bags? And close the door, you two, you’re letting the cold in.”

Tommy grunted in response, but he did what she asked and picked up one of the bags.

When they came inside, all the kids were wearing their matching hats. Judy was on the floor with Zoe while Carrie pulled the ornaments out of the box. She was showing one to Judy, a little elf dressed in blue. Just a little piece of plastic with white fuzzy trim. Its blue suit used to be fuzzy too, but it had been handled so much the flocking had rubbed off over the years.

“This one has been in our family for generations,” she told Judy solemnly. “It’s a little beat-up, but it’s my favorite. Pop told me once that it was his great-great-grandmother’s.”

Tommy hated that ornament. Mostly because he remembered the day he went into the gas station with their old man to buy a pack of cigarettes, and Cal had pocketed it from a small display of ninety-nine-cent Christmas decorations. Even then, Tommy couldn’t figure out why Cal took it. He had enough money to buy the smokes and the bottle of booze in his coat, but he stole that little thing? It was a mystery to him. Made more bitter a few years later, after Carrie and Collin came along, when he heard Cal telling them the story of how special it was and how it had come all the way from Ireland on a coffin ship with one of their dearly departed ancestors. Tommy had never found a way or a time to tell Carrie the truth, and as much as she loved the damn thing, he was never sure if he should.

The look on Judy’s face when she glanced at Tommy made him think she’d guessed the truth too, but she didn’t point it out to Carrie.

She said, “That’s lovely, dear. That one needs a special spot, doesn’t it?”

Carrie agreed with a nod. “After the lights go up.”

One strand of lights was already on the tree, and the boys were trying to untangle the rest.

“Of course,” Judy said with a smile.

When Tommy set the bags down near her, Judy reached into one and pulled out the only unwrapped box.

“This one isn’t a family heirloom like yours, but it’s very special to me.” Judy spoke so softly, Tommy found himself stepping closer to hear. “It was given to me by a darling friend who stayed with us for a while when she was a little girl, younger than you.” She placed the box in Carrie’s hand.

Carrie carefully pulled the top off the box. She glanced at Tommy, as if to make sure it was okay. He forced himself to smile at her, and she pulled out what looked like a round ball. It had white glitter shimmering down the top. When Carrie turned it, Tommy could see it was hollow with a small bird inside, its wings wrapped around five others. A red stripe stood out on its black feathers and it sat on a pile of glitter that looked like snow.

“That’s an acorn woodpecker,” Judy said, pointing inside. “Their call sounds like a laugh, and when a female lays the eggs in a hollow tree she has helpers, sometimes the siblings of the new eggs, to incubate them and feed them once they’ve hatched.”

“It’s so pretty,” Carrie whispered. She held it back from Max as he tried to reach for it, but she made sure he could still see it. “You shouldn’t give it away, though.”

Judy smiled at her and touched the tip of Carrie’s nose with her fingertip. “The things that make your heart sing,” she said quietly, “are the things that should be shared.”

Tommy could feel Bobby standing close, and he reached out for him. Bobby slipped his arm around Tommy’s waist and held him.
Damn that woman.
Tommy was near sniffling, for fuck’s sake. “Your mother watches Hallmark movies, doesn’t she?” he whispered.

Bobby laughed. “Every Christmas.”

I
T
ONLY
took another hour to get the tree decorated. By the time they were finished, it stood in its bucket with a red sheet wrapped around the base, twinkling proudly. Carrie had placed Judy’s ornament near the top, right next to the angel. The twins had been told not to touch it so many times even Max sat down and kept his hands to himself. There were eight small presents under the tree, all from Judy. Tommy figured it was okay since he’d have a few to add as the days ticked off closer to Christmas.

The kids had busted out Judy’s supply of cookies and were sitting in the living room talking and laughing when the time came for Tommy to leave for work. He pulled on his jacket by the door and stood under Bobby’s mistletoe. They sneaked a long, tender kiss, and Tommy was warm from the inside out when it was time for him to go.

Judy called to him from her spot on the couch. “It’s cold out, Tommy. Don’t forget your hat!”

He was about to tell her he didn’t even own a hat when she lifted her hand and held a bright red Santa hat out to him. Normally he would’ve stuffed it in his pocket or maybe just left with her hand hanging in the air, but instead he went to her and shoved the thing down on his head.

She looked surprised, but pleased, as if she’d finally taught him a new trick. Tommy bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Thanks for stopping by tonight, Judy.”

He could tell she was about to cry so he made a run for the door.

A week later, Cal and Cheryl showed up, and that was the end of Tommy’s holiday cheer.

I
N
THE
middle of January, the snow started falling one night and then didn’t stop. The entire world seemed to glitter and shine and even their beat-up old house looked prettier in a blanket of white. Bobby had put some Christmas lights on the windows more than a month ago, but Tommy had left them. Who cared that it was already the New Year and the holidays were over? Those stupid little twinkling lights made him smile, so he figured they could stay until they gave up and went out on their own.

The only thing Tommy hated about the snow was walking in it. By the time he got home from work most nights, he was chilled deep inside. He worried he might lose a toe in his boots, but it only made him walk faster.

One dark and frozen afternoon, Carrie wandered into the kitchen looking worried.

“What’s up, Carrie?” Mike asked. He was at the stove boiling water for hot chocolate.

Tommy glanced at her and waited for her answer.

“We haven’t seen Judy in three days,” she said as she slumped into a chair.

“I’m sure Bobby would’ve mentioned if there was anything wrong.” Tommy really was sure of that. Though it did seem odd to him that she would spend months elbowing in and then drop out of sight without a word. “She’s probably just busy.”

When the kitchen cleared out, Tommy picked up the phone and called Bobby. He was on patrol, but Tommy knew from experience he’d answer if he wasn’t actually arresting someone. And sometimes, even if he was.

“How’s your doughnut, copper?” Tommy asked when Bobby told him they had stopped for coffee.

Bobby laughed, but then said flatly, “You’re so funny, Tom. I’ve never heard that one.”

Tommy smiled into the phone. It had been a week since they had any kind of time alone together, and he missed being able to kiss and touch Bobby. That wasn’t why he’d called, though. “Listen, don’t read anything into this or anything, but what’s up with your mom?”

“What do you mean? What’d she do?”

“Nothing, but for her that’s kind of weird in itself. No one over here has heard from her in a couple days and she’s not answering the phone.”

After a long pause Tommy could hear Bobby sigh on the other end of the line.

“It’s just this time of year. She gets a little depressed.”

“Post-Christmas blues?” Tommy didn’t understand.

Bobby let out another soft breath that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t sounded so sad. “No, just…. My dad died a couple years ago and we’re coming up on the anniversary. Last year she sat around the house in her bathrobe and cried for about a week.” He paused again and then said, “It’s still hard on her, but she’ll pull herself out of it after she’s looked through all the old photos and gone through her wedding album a few hundred times. Then she’ll visit his grave and put flowers down for him, and she’ll be okay.”

“Jesus,” Tommy muttered, feeling the weight of someone else’s pain and not liking the sensation. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” Bobby didn’t add to that, but what else could he say? “Listen, I gotta go. We just got a call.”

Tommy’s stomach tightened at those words. He hated them. “All right. You be careful.”

“Always. Love you.”

“Love you too. Keep all your parts attached so I can show ya how much later.” Tommy tried not to sound worried.

“I’ll do my best.” Bobby ended the call.

Tommy looked around the kitchen for a long moment. One of Judy’s cake covers was sitting empty and washed on the counter along with a few other dishes from her. Davey’s history report he’d gotten an A on, with Judy’s help, was hanging on the refrigerator. Zoe walked in with the soft little doll Judy had given her for Christmas. He ran his hand over his face and let out a frustrated breath. “Goddamn it,” he muttered.

Zoe looked up at him like he’d been talking to her, and Tommy laughed as he picked her up. “You wanna go bye-bye?” he asked her. When she nodded, her curly hair bounced into her face.

I
T
TOOK
them less than an hour to throw a pan of brownies together, send Davey down to the store to pick up (and pay for) a small bouquet of flowers, get the kids cleaned up and dressed, and get everyone piled into the car. The flowers were an extravagance they could barely afford, and there weren’t enough seats for all eight of them in the station wagon. Tommy knew it was wrong, but he let Collin sit on the floor in the back. He drove slow and steady over to Judy’s house.

He rang the doorbell four times and was ready to start knocking when Judy answered the door. She was wearing her robe, tied tightly over a pair of pajamas. Her eyes and nose were puffy and red. If Tommy hadn’t already gotten the details from Bobby, everyone might have thought she had a cold. She tried to smile at the kids, but she turned to Tommy and said, “This really isn’t—”

“Not a good time?” he asked as he cut her off. “Is it a little annoying to have people on your doorstep unannounced?”

Judy put her hands on her hips like she did when she was going to give him the “don’t argue with me” speech, but he didn’t let her get that far. He stepped back so Max could slice his way through the crowd. Max held the flowers up to her and said her name. Judy’s expression changed and her smile seemed easier, but it was still pained and Tommy understood. She picked up Max and kissed his cheek before stepping aside to let the kids in.

“We brought brownies,” Carrie told her as she went past.

They’d been to Judy’s house a few times over the last couple of months and they were familiar with the layout.

Judy put Max down and asked Colleen to help him put the flowers in some water. When she and Tommy were alone, she closed the door behind him. “That was a low blow.”

He looked at her for a long moment and thought about making a joke, but in the end he said seriously, “We take care of our own. And no one should be alone on days like this.”

Judy threw her arms around him in a fierce hug and whispered, “You’re a good boy.”

He could hear her sniffling against his shoulder. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I know when it’s time to drop by without calling first.”

Judy let out a wet laugh and then pulled back, wiping her eyes.

P
ICTURES
WERE
spread over the coffee table next to a scrapbook lying open in the middle. The kids were in the backyard making snowmen while Tommy sat with Judy on the couch. She showed him pictures of Bobby when he was a baby and a few snapshots of other children who had come and gone when Judy was still taking in foster kids. He’d looked at her wedding pictures and was surprised by how much Bobby looked like his father. He had his mother’s mannerisms, but Bobby’s blond hair and blue eyes came from his dad.

“You know,” Judy said, still flipping pages in the album, “the funny thing is, Warren would’ve hated this.” She closed the book and leaned back against the cushion. “Whenever I do this I know he’s somewhere watching. I can hear his voice in my head telling me to knock it off.” Her laugh was sad and full of memories, but she didn’t cry, so Tommy figured they were making progress.