Mumsy opened the cardboard box, and what Hazel could only describe as the Christmas ornament smell, rose from inside of it. Her mother smiled, and a wistful look passed over her face. “Remember this one, Hazie?” She pulled out a red, felt Santa that Hazel had made in school when she was little. It was crooked, and one of the button eyes was missing.

“Yeah.” She peeked into the box at the assortment of colorful glass and crystal ornaments mixed with homemade ones from her childhood.

Mr. Malloy stood in the arched doorway of the living room, holding his pipe and watching them with a content look on his face. He crossed the room and surveyed the tall pine tree that Roberts and Willy had brought in and secured. “That’s a fine tree,” he said, taking a puff on his pipe.

Hazel breathed in the spice of the pine tree, tinsel, and sweet tobacco; it was like breathing in her childhood. Mumsy stood and went to the phonograph to put on her favorite Christmas record. There was a plate of fudge and sugar cookies on the coffee table. Hazel’s parents were not somewhere else.

It felt like the proverbial calm before a terrible storm. Hazel wanted to stay cocooned in this moment.

Mr. Malloy hung the lights on the tree, and she and Mumsy had fun hanging the ornaments and reliving old memories. When they had finished, her father crowned the tree with a large, gold star. Then the three of them sat, gazing at the tree. Her parents held hands.

Growing up, Christmas was about presents, family, and good food. It was the time of year when Mumsy’s drinking was festive rather than embarrassing, and Mr. Malloy was home more because business took a break. Mrs. Flannigan always made sure there were plenty of delicious things to eat, and Peggy always had little surprises for her. It was the time of year when Hazel felt the safest and most loved.

It was a little less shiny this year. Probably because it was the first Christmas since Evelyn died, the kidnapping, and everything else that frayed Hazel’s sense of security and peace. Maybe this was how adults experienced Christmas every year. The realities of life pressed down on them all the while. She thought of how many people suffered and went without year round. She wondered if that made Christmas a more painful time or a happy distraction.

Stanley had once told her about the Christmas when he was ten years old. His uncle got drunk and almost burned the house down because he thought he could make a flaming pudding his ma used to make back in Ireland. They beat the fire out of the curtains together. Stanley was ready for his uncle to explode in rage over it. But Seamus laughed, slapping his knee and hooting to the roof. Then he made them hot chocolate, and they decorated a wreath to hang on the mantle. That was the Christmas that his uncle handed him a package wrapped in newspaper and said, “Open it, boyo. You’re big enough now.” Inside was the faded, flat cap that Stanley still wore. It had been his father’s. Stanley said it was one of the happiest days of his life, even though they had nothing but each other. It was too bad it couldn’t always be that way.

 

 

 

 

Hazel arrived at the clinic that afternoon with a check from her father in her coat pocket in case she needed an excuse for being there. She hoped to slip back into the file room without being seen. If the doctor knew she was there, there would be no way to excuse herself to go rummage. She had Jennings pull up to the back of the building by the alleyway. Her father had instructed the old chauffeur to wait to bring Hazel home.

Henri hopped out of the car behind Hazel, and they walked down the alley to where they confronted Arthur. The large trash bin had not been moved, and Hazel could see that the window was still open. She could hardly believe her luck. That supply room was usually locked, and nobody went inside, and the cluttered alleyway was no place the doctor and Marie would stroll, so the open window had not been discovered.

Hazel climbed up onto the smelly trash bin, and Henri whined and stood up on his hind legs, front paws on it.

“Bleib,” she said to make him stay.

The window was old, and the wood was swollen. With effort, Hazel was able to tug it open enough that she could duck through. She slipped to the floor and landed behind a stack of chairs and several toppled boxes. She plugged her nose to stop a sneeze. Dust swirled in the shaft of light coming in through the window.

Stepping around the obstacles in the room, she made it to the door. She pressed her ear to it and listened. It was quiet. Hazel wondered if the clinic was even open. Perhaps the doctor was on holiday too. She closed her eyes and held her breath. A voice.

Bananas.

The low murmur of Doctor Galton’s voice came through the door. It sounded like he was in his office down the hall, perhaps on the phone. Hazel unlocked the door, opened it a crack, and peeked out. To the left, was the empty reception room, and down the hall, one of the exam room doors was ajar. She thought she saw Marie’s white uniform flash by.

As the doctor’s voice continued on the telephone, Hazel slipped into the hall, quietly moving toward the file room across the hall from his office, keeping her eyes on the open exam room.

A few steps from the door, she could make out words.

“… leave the station as agreed … yes. I’m doing my best. There have been some snags. No, sir. This neighborhood is in order.”

Hazel slowly turned the knob on the door and stepped into the dim room just as the click of the telephone hanging up sounded.

Easing the door shut, she stood and waited. After a minute, footsteps moved from the doctor’s office and out into the hall. “Marie, come in here please.”

More footsteps, the office door closed, and then the low sound of conversation.

Hazel tiptoed to the cabinets, and drawer by drawer, she carefully searched for anything on Maxie. When she found the page with Teeth’s serial number again, she folded it up and put it into her coat. She continued to search the files.

Almost a half hour later, the voices stopped, and Hazel froze. A door opened and closed, and then Marie’s heels walked all the way down the hall to the reception room. Hazel wasn’t sure where Dr. Galton was, until she heard things being moved around and clanking in the exam room.

Every minute that went by, she became more jumpy. Hazel had searched every drawer except the three that were locked. She scratched her head … there must be a key some place. Probably in the doctor’s desk across the hall. Hazel wrinkled her nose. Bananas.

The doctor and Marie were both in the exam room, from the sound of it. She had to act swiftly. She darted across the hall, opened the doctor’s office door, and shut it softly behind her.

She let out a breath and wiped the perspiration from her forehead. Without wasting time, she rounded the desk and opened the drawer. She sorted through pencils and notepads, paperclips, a deck of cards fastened with a rubber band, and more pamphlets, encouraging people to do the right thing and help “cleanse the inferior races of man.” In the far back of the drawer was a racy pin up picture of a buxom, brunette gypsy and a small leather coin purse. Hazel undid the clasp of the coin purse and found foreign looking coins and a small, copper key. That’s the ticket.

Shoving everything back into the drawer, the key in her hand, Hazel’s pulse thrummed. She paused at the door to make sure the hallway was clear. Marie’s voice came from the exam room. “He has a younger brother as well.”

“Right. Let’s have a look at him too. This one will sleep a while. Could you hand me the needle?”

They were occupied. Hazel made it back to the file room and over to the wooden cabinet with the locked doors. Her hand trembled as she rushed to try the key. It slid into the keyhole and turned. She sighed in relief and pulled the drawer open. Her fingers crawled across the tops of the files, reading names as they flashed by.

Halfway through the second drawer, Hazel saw the name Maxine Washington. That had to be her. She pulled out the page, and her eyes darted across the form.

Negro woman. Aged 34. Skipping quickly past her residence and basic comments on her overall health, Hazel found where the doctor had scrawled some notes.

Pregnancy confirmed at 3 wks gestation

Follow up examine upon discussion with Sinclair

Intellect defective with melancholia

Signs of mild skeletal malformation

Possible candidate for bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy

Family history of Thrombocytopenia

Hazel had found it. This paper showed that Maxie had come into the clinic and was found to be pregnant. Something the papers never mentioned. Some of the words didn’t make sense to her, but she’d worked with Dr. Galton enough to have picked up that thrombocytopenia was a condition of thin blood. This made the patient more likely to bleed out. Her mind flashed back to the time when she saw Marie mopping blood off the floor and dunking the exam table sheet into a bucket of bleach. She shivered in revulsion.

Hazel folded up the sheet and put it in her coat. She had to get this back to her father—he would know what to do with it. She relocked the drawers. Putting the key in her pocket, Hazel tiptoed to the door. It was quiet. No voices or footsteps. Maybe they were treating a patient. Or giving someone a tattoo, she scowled to herself.

If she could just get back to the storage room, she was home free. Peeking out the door, the corridor was empty. Hazel stepped out, and to her horror, at the end of the hall, the storage room door stood wide open. Before she could think what to do, Marie stepped out of the storage room and stared at Hazel.

“Doctor!” Marie shouted, her forehead scrunching with anger.

Dr. Galton emerged from the exam room, wiping his hands with a towel, a look of alarm on his face. “What is it?” He stopped and took in Hazel, standing in the door of the file room. “What is going on here?” he sternly asked Hazel.

Her heart banged on her ribcage. No words came to her.

Marie stalked down the corridor, an approaching storm, pointing a finger at Hazel. “You came in through the window and have been snooping.” The nurse’s accent made her words come out like the crack of a whip.

“That. That’s ridiculous. I came in the front and there was nobody there. So I knocked on the doctor’s office door—and then I saw the light on in here.”

Marie crossed her arms and sneered. “Oh, yes?”

Dr. Galton lowered his brows. “I was in the exam room.”

“Was gonna check there next.” Hazel’s mind floundered. Keep it calm, Malloy.

Marie shoved past her and looked around the file room. She reached out and tugged on the drawers. Locked. By appearances, there was nothing out of place.

The doctor let out a sigh. “Clearly there is some misunderstanding. Hazel … why are you looking for me?”

“Oh.” She recovered enough to remember what she had practiced in case this happened. She forced a grin. “My family and I would like to give you a Christmas present.”

Marie came back into the hall, narrowing her eyes at Hazel.

Retrieving the check from her pocket, she held it out to the young doctor, and his face registered surprise.

“What’s this?”

“Our support for the work you do in the community. You help so many people.”

“I do what I can. Of course … sometimes I can’t help.” He blushed, taking the check. He unfolded it, and his eyes went wide. “This will buy a lot of supplies.”

“Father wanted to be clear … this is not a donation for the clinic. Those are done through the Sinclair family. This is for you. Think of it as a bonus.”

He rubbed a hand over his face and grinned. “Tell your father thank you. This is very generous.” Dr. Galton was nearly breathless. For a brief moment, Hazel felt sorry for him, because maybe he was deceived. He lived simply, thought he was doing something good—wanted to be important. But he fell in with evil and was doing their bidding, unwittingly or not. She wondered how he had felt when Maxie died and how much he had to do with the cover up.

“You’re welcome.” Hazel smiled, her heart calming. Money was indeed a great distraction.

Marie snorted. Hazel turned to the tight-lipped nurse who had never been kind to her. Hazel had no pity for her and didn’t believe for a second that she was deceived. Marie embraced the darkness. Hazel couldn’t resist making things hot for her.

“Marie, I just don’t understand your anger and paranoia. Why would you think I would sneak in here—through a window, of all things—the very idea.” Hazel puffed out her chest, indignant, despite the fact that she was a champion window sneaker. “And that I would go through boring medical files? Why, the thought is bizarre.” Hazel blinked. “Makes me wonder if you are hiding something.” She squinted at the nurse.

Marie’s mouth dropped open. “Ridiculous. Our patients have privacy we have to protect,” she sputtered.

Dr. Galton made a noise in his throat. “That’s enough, Marie.” His face was tight with irritation.

“Furthermore.” Hazel stood tall and raised her chin, summoning her inner debutante. “Have you any idea who I am? Who my father is? If my maid spoke to me the way that you do, she would be sacked.”

Marie’s face turned red.

Mortified, Dr. Galton, still holding the check in his hand as if it had just floated down from heaven, demanded, “Apologize to Miss Malloy, Marie.”

“I—I beg your pardon, miss.” The nurse scrunched her face up as if she had something sour in her mouth.

Hazel nodded. “Forgiven.”

“I am so sorry, Hazel. I hope this won’t make you stay away. We value your work here.”

Hazel let out a tolerant sigh. “Don’t think of it. No harm done. I know how difficult it can be to get good help.” She shot a disdainful look at Marie.

“Thank you for understanding.” Dr. Galton pushed up his spectacles, his handsome face tense.

“Merry Christmas. I’ll be seeing you.” Hazel straightened the fur collar on her coat and turned to go.

“Merry Christmas,” he called after her. “And be sure to tell your father thank you.”

Hazel hurried into the alleyway, relief rushing through her veins. She had the paper Arthur wanted that might help them find Teeth and the evidence that Stanley asked for. She’d done it. Henri loped toward her from where he had faithfully waited by the trash bin under the window, which was now closed. Hazel hunched down to receive his wet kisses on her face and to scratch behind his ears.

“I did it, boy. I did it.”

Together they walked to the end of the alley. Before she rounded the corner to where Jennings waited with the Buick, Henri turned his head and growled.

Hazel followed his gaze. At the other end of the alley, silhouetted by the sun, was Marie, watching her go. From a distance, they stared at one another. A chill ran over Hazel’s skin.

Even from where Hazel stood, she could see the glower and feel the hatred like heat waves through the December air. What a contrast to the love there was in the world. Now she did pity the woman. She wondered if she had ever been loved by anyone. But the moment of pity passed. In the end, some people, even ones with unhappy beginnings, lived on to bring goodness into the world. While others like Marie hardened into people willing to exterminate humans who don’t meet their standards and ideals, unfeeling generals in a senseless war. Sacrificing as many lives as necessary to get what they wanted.

Standing tall, Hazel continued to stare back. She raised her arm and cut a salute across her forehead, then lowered her arms at her sides, dipped a curtsy, and stuck out her tongue.

She turned her back, and with her dog at her side, walked away from the hate.