“What are your nightmares about…if you don’t mind me asking?”
The second I was this close to her, I could smell her perfume. It was some floral scent, something new because I didn’t recognize it. Must have done some shopping while she picked up the groceries. “Before everything that happened with Claire, it was always someone from my past coming back to haunt me.” I couldn’t say the details, not out loud. Not even think them. “By hurting Claire…” I cleared my throat and brushed it off. “But now, my little girl in angel wings…surrounded by those freaks…crying for her father to come save her.”
Her hand instantly went to my back, stroking across my shoulders then down my spine. “What do you do?”
“The drunker I am, the easier it is to go back to sleep and forget it ever happened.” I grabbed the decanter, refilled my glass, and then handed it to her. “Therapy. Drugs. None of it is as effective as a bottle.”
She looked down into the glass before she took a sip.
I got to my feet and headed to the hallway. “You’ll have to drink more than that for it to work.”
A Christmas movie was on the TV, and the small speaker on the entertainment center blasted a playlist of popular Christmas songs. The once-bare tree was now covered with white lights that wrapped all the way around, starting at the base then moving to the top. Claire picked an ornament then found a place to hang it on the tree.
I dug inside the box until I found my favorite.
It was a picture of the two of us when she was five. She’d wanted to ride horses since she could talk, so I’d put her on a saddle and held her in place on one of our horses at our home in the countryside. The picture had been on my nightstand ever since—until she stole it and took it to school to turn it into an ornament. Now it hung inside a papier-mâché wreath that she made. I used to like looking at it every single day in my bedroom, but now I looked forward to pulling it out of the box this time every year.
Constance must have noticed because she took the seat beside me and looked at the ornament. “Aww, that’s a cute picture.” Her hand instinctively went to my wrist, her touch warm, a bit affectionate. When she realized what she was doing, she retracted her hand. “Where are you going to hang it?”
“Daddy, right here.” Claire pointed at the bottom, where it would hang a couple inches off the floor.
“How about here, sweetheart?” I walked up to the tree and hung it higher, at my shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” Claire went to the box to grab another ornament.
Constance gave a chuckle. “I can see who runs the show around here.”
I hung the ornament in place then watched Claire move to the platform I’d built for her. I’d always been aware of my surroundings, but after I became a father, that focus deepened to an extraordinary level. Her foot moved to the step, but it was just her toes, so before she could fall, I caught her. My hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up so she wouldn’t slip.
It all happened so quickly that she didn’t even notice. She rose on her tiptoes so she could hang the ornament as high as possible. “How’s that?”
“Very nice, sweetheart.”
She stepped down and retrieved another ornament.
Constance watched us with a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, marshmallows floating on top. There was a brightness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, like spending the holiday season with my daughter truly brought her joy.
Why didn’t it ever bring Beatrice joy?
Claire carried a reindeer ornament to Constance. “Want to hang it up?”
“Honey, that’s so sweet.” Constance gave her a one-armed hug and rubbed her back. “But you and your dad should do this together. I’m happy to watch.”
“Come on.” I gave a nod toward the tree.
Constance switched her gaze to me.
“There’s a good spot right here.” I pointed to an opening between various ornaments.
Claire tugged on her arm. “Yeah!”
Constance moved her mug away, expertly preventing a spill as if she’d been taking care of a child as long as I had. “Alright.” She took the ornament then came to me, examining the reindeer as it spun on the hook. “Here?”
I nodded.
She rose on her tiptoes and raised her arms in the air, the curve in her back deepening in the process.
I glanced instinctively, but I forced my gaze away since my daughter was right there.
Constance stepped back and admired her work. “Looks great.”
“We’ve got more.” Claire returned to the box of ornaments to fetch another one.
Constance continued to admire the lone ornament, her bright eyes reflecting the white lights that shone back at her. Her arms crossed over her chest and her stare remained, as if her mind had wandered elsewhere.
Claire came to her side with another ornament. “Hang this one up.”
Constance smiled as she took it from her. “I’m on it.”
Blanketed by the Christmas music, the warm fire, the hot cocoa, it was easy to forget the rain outside, forget that the world outside these walls was a terrible place, full of demons and criminals.
The box started to become empty, so I took a seat on the couch and let the girls finish what was left since they were having a good time. Constance was picky about the spots she chose, and she always stopped to consider her next move. Claire was a torpedo, zooming back and forth like it was a race to decorate the tree.
But then she stopped.
She stood at the coffee table where the box sat, looking inside as if she saw something that perplexed her. Her hand reached inside and withdrew a statue of an angel. It was white ceramic and smooth.
For the first time in my life, I was paralyzed.
Constance seemed to pick up on the tension because she turned around and stilled when she saw the item in Claire’s hand.
Claire dropped it back into the box and continued to stare down at it.
Constance immediately turned to me, her eyes giving that same sheer panic she’d shown me many times in the past.
The paralysis passed, and I sprang into action. “We don’t need to keep it.” It took all my willpower to sound normal, to keep my voice gentle, to force all the rage out of my tone. I grabbed the ornament and marched outside. I stepped outside the front door, down the stairs of my stoop, and into the pouring rain. My shirt was instantly soaked down to my skin, waterdrops rolling down the bridge of my nose like a stream. I squeezed the statue then slammed it down onto the sidewalk. It smashed into hundreds of tiny pieces, a pile of shards. There was no way to know what it had been before because it was mutilated beyond recognition. I looked up and down the street then walked back inside.
Claire was tucked into bed with her stuffed hippo in her arms. With the sheets to her shoulder and her eyes closed, she looked as peaceful as ever.
But I knew there was more underneath.
My fingers combed through her blond hair, coaxing her into her dreams. A love like this was indescribable. Every fear she felt, I felt it a million times worse. Every pain, every sorrow, was as much of a burden to me as it was to her.
I had the power to do a lot of things, but I couldn’t change the past.