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  “It was pink with red balls and red lights.”

  Carol burst out laughing. “A pink tree! With red balls! Are you making that up, Abby?”.

  Abby shook her head. “No. It was in the living-room window.”

  “My mother said it was … fashionable,” Mallory added, her voice buffeted by the wall in front of her. “She copied it out of a magazine. It was very pretty.”

  “Pretty ugly,” Abby chirped, her eyes sparkling.

  “Oh,” was all Carol could think to say.

  Abby picked up the checkers and put them in the box. “I like the one we have this year way better. It smells just like the one at school. When I told my teacher about mama’s pink tree, she said pink trees are silly. Are pink Christmas trees silly, Aunt Carol?”

  One eye on the back of Mallory’s head, Carol chose her words carefully. “What might seem silly to one person might not be silly to someone else. Traditionally, Christmas trees are green. Sometimes decorators use … other colors for … for effect like in a magazine. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong or right. It’s a matter of choice.” Where the hell are you, Donovan?

  Like a whirlwind, Mallory flew out of the corner onto her sister, kicking and gouging at her arms. “You aren’t supposed to tell our business,” she cried hysterically. “Mama said our business is our business. Pink trees aren’t silly. They’re … fashionable. Mama said it was the prettiest tree in all Edison. Mama didn’t lie. I hate your guts, Abby. I hate you, too, Carol, and I’m not calling you Aunt Carol anymore. You aren’t my aunt. I don’t care if you make me stand in the corner all night. I’m telling my teacher you’re mean to me and that you do bad things to me.”

  Carol felt like she was going to pass out. She grappled to take a deep breath. What was that supposed to mean—that she did bad things to her? “I need some help downstairs with the dishes, Abby. Mallory, go back to the corner and stay there until I say you can leave it. You’ll be there all night if you disobey me.”

  Mallory’s response was to kick the wall. Carol knew there would be a hole in the drywall when she returned, but just then she didn’t care. All she wanted was to get out of the house and never come back.

  Carol sat on the sofa staring at the Christmas tree. It smelled heavenly and reminded her of when she was a little girl. Although it wasn’t that cold out, she’d built a fire and was now on her third glass of white wine. Wine made the pain in her soul a little more bearable and maybe it would give her the courage to tell Donovan she was leaving him. If Donovan didn’t come home soon, she would drink the whole bottle. Courage in a bottle. Such a stupid phrase.

  Every once in a while she saw Mallory peek around the corner from the hallway and look at her, but she pretended not to see her. If she acknowledged her, she would have to do something, and, at the moment, she was afraid what that something might be.

  She sipped her wine and leaned her head back on the sofa. The wonderful marriage she’d envisioned was falling apart right in front of her. Tears rolled down the side of her face. She was blowing her nose with gusto when Donovan walked through the door.

  “Hi,” she managed in a choked voice.

  Donovan tossed his denim jacket over the back of a chair. “I swear to God, Carol, I tried to get out of there early. It was one damn problem after another. Today was a day from hell.” He sat down on the sofa next to her and put his arms around her. It seemed he was always apologizing these days, for not making it home on time, for not helping her deal with the girls, for not paying her enough attention. He was doing the best he could do, but it just wasn’t enough. She needed more, always more. He tipped her chin up to gaze into her tear-filled eyes. “Do you know how much I appreciate everything you’re doing around here, taking care of the house, the girls, me? I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you, Carol. I guess I don’t say that often enough. I’m sorry, baby.”

  He was right. He didn’t say it often enough. He could never say it enough as far as she was concerned. She knew she loved him more than he would ever love her, but she accepted it, made the best of it. Her mood rallied when he kissed her. This was how she’d envisioned being married to him. This was the way it was supposed to be, just the two of them, here, together, with nothing and no one between them. If only there was something she could do to make it stay that way. “Go take your shower, and I’ll lock up and get you a beer.”

  “Sounds good to me.” He got up off the sofa. “Other than the fact that I’m home late, is there anything else wrong?” Donovan called over his shoulder.

  Carol hesitated before answering. Maybe now was not the time to tell him how hateful Mallory had been today or to chastise him for not being there when she needed him. All that could wait. After all, she didn’t want to spoil what was promising to be an eventful evening. “I was just feeling a little melancholy, that’s all. It’s the season, you know.”

  He stopped at the door and turned around. “Guess the kids are excited about Christmas, huh?”

  “Abby is. I’m not sure about Mallory. She’s remembering the pink Christmas tree with red balls they had last year.”

  Donovan threw his head back and laughed. “That god-awful thing they had in the window? That had to be the ugliest tree I ever saw in my life. John was so embarrassed he wanted to close the drapes, but Harriet wouldn’t let him. She said it was chic. It even had red lights.” He laughed so hard he doubled over. “When Harriet finally let John throw it out, even the scavengers wouldn’t take it. That should tell you something.”

  Mallory listened to Donovan talking about her mother’s pink Christmas tree. Her eyes narrowed to mean little slits when he laughed. Through the crack in the door she watched Carol get a beer from the kitchen and take it into the bedroom. Then she scurried down the hall and took up her usual position outside Donovan and Carol’s door. She sat down, crossed her legs Indian-style, and pressed her ear to the door.

  Unaware of the one-person audience outside the door, Donovan walked out of the shower and playfully flicked his towel at Carol. “Let’s see, what should we do first? Swing from the chandelier or roll on the floor? How come you’re still wearing all those clothes, woman?”

  Carol giggled. “We don’t have a chandelier, and the floor is drafty. How’s about we just get into bed?” she asked as she began removing her clothes. “You up for an all-nighter?”

  Donovan groaned. “Frankly, my dear,” he said in his Clark Gable voice, “I think it would kill me.”

  Carol unhooked her bra, tossed it aside, and motioned him toward her. “Make love to me, Donovan,” she said in a low, seductive voice. “Slow and easy. With all the magic words. Let’s put everything out of our minds except you and me.” She felt her throat constrict and her eyes mist. “God, I love you. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you. There was never anyone else for me but you.”

  He pulled her tight against him. “I must be the luckiest guy in the world. John said you were the best thing that ever happened to me and warned me not to let you get away. I’m glad I listened to him.”

  Carol stared at him, speechless.

  “What’s the matter? What did I say?”

  “Oh, nothing—It’s—” she stammered. “It’s just that I never knew he felt that way. I’m flattered.”

  Donovan smiled. “John pretty much kept his feelings to himself, except around me.”

  “You must miss him terribly.”

  “Yeah, he was the best buddy a guy could ask for. And you’re the best wife a guy could ask for,” he said, moving his lips downward.

  In the aftermath of their lovemaking, with Donovan asleep in her arms and wine softening her heart, all thoughts of leaving disappeared. Things would be better tomorrow. She would see to it.

  “Uncle Donovan, how come you’re late this morning?” Abby asked as she attacked the pile of pancakes on her plate.

  “Because I wanted to see my girls before I left for work. Have you been behaving for Carol? Christmas is only a few days away, and
Santa is watching,” he reminded them.

  “I know, I know,” Abby squealed, bouncing up and down in her chair. “I’m being really good. Ask Aunt Carol. Are you sure Santa will bring me that pink bike?”

  “I can almost guarantee it, Abby. How about you, Mallory? What did you put on your list for Santa to bring you?”

  “A whole closet full of pretty dresses like my mama used to buy me. My own telephone and my own television, and a purse with real money in it.”

  “That’s a pretty tall order. There are a lot of children in the world for Santa to remember. Sometimes he doesn’t bring everything on a little boy’s or girl’s list.”

  “My mama said he would bring everything I ask for. Last year, he even brought stuff I didn’t ask for. Mama said Santa likes me because I’m so pretty.”

  “Mama did say that to Mallory. I heard her, Uncle Donovan,” Abby said as she poured more syrup on her pancakes.

  Carol turned back to the stove. Donovan stared at the stiff set of her shoulders. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

  “You two better hurry or you’ll miss the bus,” Carol said, holding out two lunch boxes. “I’ll see you this afternoon. Have a good day.”

  Mallory stomped from the room without looking back. Abby hugged both Donovan and Carol. “See ya,” she called.

  The moment the door closed, Donovan said, “Okay, let’s hear it. The whole enchilada. I knew the minute I walked in the door last night that something was bothering you, but you didn’t seem to want to talk about it so I didn’t ask. Tell me. Maybe I can help.”

  She slumped down in Mallory’s chair. “You’re right. I was going to tell you last night. I drank almost a whole bottle of wine to screw up my courage. There’s no other way to say this except to say it. It’s Mallory.” She pushed Mallory’s unfinished pancakes aside. “I detest that little girl. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be saying this to you. Before you came home last night she threatened me the way she did you that day back in Edison. She said she would tell her teacher that I’m mean to her and that I do bad things to her. School officials don’t take stuff like that lightly, Donovan, and neither do I. Do you have any idea what could happen if she did say those things to her teacher? She could destroy our lives, everything you’ve been working so hard for.” She steepled her hands in front of her face. “I don’t care what that shrink thinks, and I don’t care what you think. She’s not normal.”

  Carol grabbed an unused paper napkin and blew her nose. “There’s a problem here neither you nor I are qualified to handle. I’m going to lose it, Donovan. This morning before you came down, I had to hold myself in check or I would have throttled her. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself next time.”

  “Jesus. Why didn’t you say something before this, Carol?”

  “I thought I could handle it. I was wrong. I should have told you, but you’ve been working so many hours and then when you do come home you’re exhausted. I didn’t want to burden you. I love you, and I love Abby. I do not love Mallory. Hell, I don’t even like her. She’s sneaky, she’s nasty, she’s obnoxious, and she’s cruel. I will never love her.”

  “What … what do you want me to do?”

  “I don’t know. This is one time I don’t have the answer.” Carol burst into tears. “And don’t even suggest that I go for therapy. There’s nothing wrong with me. It’s her. All I know is that I can’t live like this any longer. I won’t live like this. I’m on the edge. I’ll crack if you don’t get her out of here.”

  “You should have told me how bad it was. I would have punished her. When I don’t know something, I can’t act on it.”

  “Don’t you see, Donovan? Punishing her isn’t the answer. She’s beyond punishment. It has absolutely no effect on her. Last night I made her stand in the corner with her face to the wall. Then, the first chance she got, she attacked Abby.”

  “So, what’s the answer?”

  “You have to make a decision,” she said with surprising calm. “Her or me.”

  “Carol, listen to me. I’ll take some time off, and we’ll find help. Maybe we can send her to one of those schools that deal with troubled kids.”

  Carol shook her head. “No, Donovan. She needs to be institutionalized.”

  Donovan’s face fell. “Institutionalized? Don’t you think that’s a little drastic?” The look in his wife’s eyes told him she wouldn’t settle for anything less. “Okay, I’ll make some inquiries.”

  “Today,” she pushed.

  “Yes, today. I’ll call in and tell Steve I’m taking the day off.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish you’d alerted me to the problems earlier.”

  She took his hand and squeezed it. “I wanted to, but I kept thinking that with a little love and discipline, she’d be fine.”

  Donovan shook his head. “I asked too much of you, Carol, when I asked you to marry me and take on John’s children.”

  “My heart was with you. I wanted to help you, and I truly, truly wanted to help the girls.” She pulled her hand away and stared out the kitchen window. She shook herself. “Listen, you’d better go call Steve.”

  “Carol, are you sure you’re all right? I mean—You look sort of frazzled.”

  “No, Donovan, I’m not all right, and I won’t be all right until something is done about Mallory.”

  It was eleven o’clock when Carol gathered up her coat and purse to head for downtown Charleston. The phone rang just as she was about to lock the front door. She debated a moment before she returned to the kitchen to answer it, but when you have children, you have to answer the phone. As she listened to the principal’s voice on the other end of the phone, her face registered horror. “I’ll be right there.”

  An hour later, Carol left the school principal’s office and walked toward her car, where she immediately paged Donovan. Her breathing was ragged as she waited for him to call her. She was bordering on hysteria when the car phone finally rang. “Don’t ask questions, Donovan. Whatever you’re doing, stop and go home. You won’t believe what I have to tell you.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Donovan careened into the driveway and parked his pickup truck next to Carol’s Ford Mustang. “What the hell happened? Did one of the girls get hurt?” he bellowed.

  “I’ll tell you what happened, Donovan,” Carol said between clenched teeth. “Our little Miss Mallory sits outside our bedroom door at night and listens to us. She told her teacher— Oh, God. What she said was … that last night I drank a whole bottle of wine and that when you came home we took off our clothes, rolled on the floor, and swung from the chandelier. She also told the teacher I was mean to her and that you and I did bad things to her.”

  “Good God, no!”

  Carol buried her face in her hands. “The principal warned me that such implications could be dangerous if the wrong people heard them.”

  “Calm down, Carol. You’re going to have a coronary.”

  “You’re goddamn right I’m going to have a coronary.” She flopped down on the sofa. “That’s it, Donovan. I can’t take another day of Mallory. Not another day. Do you hear me?”

  “If you’ll just be patient, I’ll take care of it. But I’m not a magician. I can’t pull a rabbit out of my hat or make Mallory disappear.” He knelt in front of her. “I got the name of a special school in Atlanta. I was on my way home to give them a call when you paged me. Now, get your wits together and get that awful look off your face. We didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay for you to drink wine, and it’s okay for us to take our clothes off and roll on the floor. For that matter, it’s okay if we want to swing from the chandelier—if we had one. We’re married for Christ’s sake.”

  “Call that school right now, Donovan, and make an appointment to see whomever you need to see.”

  Donovan reached across the coffee table for the phone.

  Carol leaned back and closed her eyes. She was so physically drained she didn’t hear the conversation or realize he’d hung u
p until Donovan took her hand in his.

  “We can take Mallory to Atlanta the day after New Year’s. They have one opening. We’ll get the tour, check things out and … and …”

  “Walk away,” Carol said flatly.

  “Why do I feel like we’re doing something evil and wrong?” Donovan asked, his eyes searching hers.

  “Because we’re decent human beings. Things like this only happen to other people, not people like us.”

  “I’ll take the next two weeks off so I can stay home with you and the girls. So I’ll be here, Carol, day and night. You won’t have to deal with Mallory alone.”

  PART TWO

  CHAPTER FOUR

  1993

  Abby raced up the stairs to her room, bellowing at the top of her lungs. “Carol! I’m home!”

  Carol came out of her room and looked at the exuberant girl in front of her. “Do you have a date for the prom? I can hardly wait to pick out a dress for you.”

  “Yes, I have a date, but that’s not the only reason I’m so excited. I got a letter today from Mallory. She sent it to the school. Do you believe that?”

  Carol’s happiness faded, and she leaned against the wall for support. “No, I don’t believe it,” she said in a grudging voice. The nerve that girl had. The absolute nerve! “Has she sent you other letters at your school?”

  “No. This is the first. She said she didn’t want to dredge up any old hard feelings.” Abby looked down at the letter in her hand. “It was a nice letter, Carol. Sorta newsy and upbeat. I admit I was surprised. That’s not how I remember her.” She paused to gather her thoughts. “She graduates from her school this month. She wanted to know if you would let me go to her graduation.”

  Carol shook her head. “Oh, Abby—I don’t think—” She put her arm around Abby’s shoulders. “I want to say no, but you’re an adult now; it’s your decision, not mine. I guess the big question is, do you want to go?”