While Johnny and Mary were spending Christmas in the Okanogan, Terry’s holiday was becoming stressful and lonely. She had flown to Saskatchewan to be with her family, but it no longer felt like home. Terry was enjoying her work for the Banks in Vanderhoof and had rented an apartment near the river. Work kept her busy, and while thus occupied, she didn’t spend as much time thinking back on her November ordeal. She had met with a psychologist as recommended by the RCMP, but she had not followed up with further counselling.
Now, in an unfamiliar, empty house while her mom was away on a Christmas cruise, the weight of loneliness and fear came crashing down, reality setting in. Her brothers were working, taking advantage of the holidays, their growing oilfield service company benefiting from the high fees charged during a time when so many employees wanted some time away from work. She missed their steady presence.
Christmas morning had been enjoyably chaotic, celebrating with cousins, aunts and uncles. The cousins near her age were all married and had small children. They had been delighted that Terry joined them for a Christmas brunch and gift exchange, but they had their own routines and holiday stresses, and by mid-afternoon on Christmas day had all disappeared. Terry helped her aunt clean the kitchen and vacuum the living room, and then she took a drive.
She missed Isaac La Crosse. He had quickly become a friend, and then more than a friend. He had invited her to live with him, and though she did spend many weekends at his house, she preferred to keep her own apartment. Isaac was sometimes cynical, but loyal and trustworthy. He listened, not speaking until she asked for a reply, then usually making her laugh with his perceptive and sometimes irreverent opinion. She thought of calling him but knew he would be spending the day with the complicated family he normally avoided in a good-natured but decisive way.
She also missed time with the Amunds who had become good friends. Johnny had a reassuring presence, and she had appreciated the work he had done in a few short weeks to help the company run more efficiently. Mary was kind and her inner strength and no-nonsense manner helped Terry feel secure.
Now, away from her friends and familiar work community, Terry felt her level of anxiety rising. Just the thought of connecting flights through Calgary made her nervous. What if Joseph was in the airport? What if her picture had been circulated to those Joseph worked with? If the RCMP could share information in their investigation, then why couldn’t the criminals do the same?
Criminals. It was strange to even use the term. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Why should she be wrapped up in this whole mess? The tears started, a mix of fear and anger in liquid form.
Terry had stopped at the liquor store on the way home, having noticed her mother didn’t have much on hand. She poured a glass of wine, then funneled it back in the bottle and opened the Baileys. Instead of feeling warmed and comforted as she sipped the sweet liqueur Terry was slammed with waves of depression and fear.
She remembered being homesick as a child when waking early at a birthday sleepover, a crushing, gray feeling of loneliness and abandonment. Looking around the unfamiliar house, Terry hadn’t known how much worse this could feel as an adult.
“Come on, Terry!” she said, downing the small amount she had poured in a coffee cup. She looked through the cupboards and found a heavy tumbler. “That’s better.” she said, pouring a generous amount of the syrupy drink into the proper glassware.
She ran through the satellite programming on the television and watched the end of a Christmas movie. She cried, finding the conclusion to be consoling, no matter how predictable. Another Christmas movie was starting, so she ordered pizza and settled in for a marathon.
Hours later, she ordered another small pizza from a different company and tuned to another channel. She put on her comfy pajamas and brought a pillow and sleeping bag out to the living room.
“The Christmas Carol” would be playing in several minutes, and while she knew the story, she couldn’t remember ever watching the movie. Before the movie began, there was an explanation of the history of the story and how it affected the world when it was written so many years ago. According to the well-spoken narrator, this 1951 version was considered to be the best movie produced of Dickens’ story.
Terry was hooked, and it seemed the elderly announcer was looking right into Terry’s eyes when she said in her perfectly modulated accent. “And just as Charles Dickens hoped would happen, his work began to turn the wheels of cultural understanding. We hope your life will be changed as you view this classic film and Charles Dickens’ missive of hope will stimulate the Christmas message of love, forgiveness and change deep inside you.”
Terry sat like a small child, cross-legged on the floor, riveted to the screen. Sipping red wine and nibbling pizza throughout, she sympathized with Ebenezer Scrooge and willed him to make the right decisions. She sobbed at the depiction of poverty and the Cratchit family’s despair. She cursed Scrooge for his cold-hearted treatment of others, and then cried for him to change and become a whole person. She wanted wrongs to be made right, and for the pain to go away.
An hour and a half later, Terry was ready to hear the narrator’s closing statements. She was emotionally spent but somehow clean inside. It seemed she was so close to a solution to her problems. Was this real, or just a result of the gripping story touching her in a state of emotional confusion?
While Terry was still alone, the fear was not so bad at the moment, and she felt a kinship to the old Scrooge and wished she could have joined him at his nephew’s party. She turned the volume down but kept the same channel tuned, enjoying the now-familiar voice of the narrator as she introduced another classic. Terry curled up on the couch with a pillow and sleeping bag and fell asleep.