Joanne balanced the packages from Christmas shopping between her knee and the door frame, then turned the key in the lock. The bags rustled against the molding until the door opened and she carried them inside.
She’d purchased most of the gifts to be mailed, and felt good about her accomplishment. Though she’d been tense the past few weeks, today she’d almost been touched by Christmas spirit with the help of Nita and the shopping spree. For the past three years she had forced herself to pull out some ornaments, then wept and put them back. Christmas had seemed lost to her. But this year she’d already made progress, with Benjamin’s encouragement. Perhaps this year she’d have the strength to use the decorations.
As she carried the gift bags into her room, thoughts of Benjamin filled her mind. He’d been tied up with a court case, and though he’d called, she didn’t think he’d have time for her today. But the e-mail had set her on edge and she missed him more than she could imagine. Two weeks ago, he’d been only a memory. Now he’d become the backbone of her existence.
Joanne recognized that Benjamin thought of her as Greg’s wife—just a friend—and she’d always felt the same about him, until lately. Now her heart gave a skip when she saw his generous mouth curve into a playful smile. The sensation nudged her with an uncomfortable guilt, as if she were cheating on Greg, but she knew her husband was gone. She’d meet Greg again in heaven, but while here on earth, life seemed lonely without a partner.
Joanne knew that she should move on. She was free to experience romance and to find love again. The idea washed over her in waves of mixed emotion. Loss and newness warped into one emotional experience.
After searching her closet, Joanne selected something to wear, then slipped off her office clothes. She stepped into a pair of pants, and then, feeling a chill, she gave her arms a brisk rub before pulling a bulky sweater over her head. She disposed of her work outfit, then headed for the kitchen.
As she came through the doorway she eyed the telephone and her stomach knotted. The answering machine gave off a steady blink: she had a message.
Apprehension crept over her. She drew up her shoulders and hit the play button. “You have three messages. Message one, Monday, November twenty-eighth. Five-thirty.”
Joanne held her breath.
“Hi, Joanne.”
She smiled hearing Benjamin’s voice.
“I guess you’re not in. Give me a call when you get home.”
Sweet Benjamin. Despite his busy day, he’d called. Always thinking of her….
“Message two,” the mechanical voice said, “Monday, November twenty-eighth. Five-forty-nine.”
Joanne tilted her ear closer to the speaker. She heard the hiss of an open line, then a hang-up. Her stomach twisted. It was the woman again, she felt certain. She slammed her hand against the telephone. If she’d been home, the caller might have spoken.
The machine indicated that the third message had occurred at six-fourteen. She listened with her heart in her throat. Another hang-up.
Hands trembling, she crossed the room and sank into a chair. She covered her face with her hands, knowing she should be relieved that the woman had called again, but instead, she felt weak and tired. Frustration overwhelmed her. Her chest ached from her pounding heart, and all she wanted to do was sleep.
She hoisted herself from the chair and walked back to the telephone to phone Benjamin. When she heard his voice, she burst out with the news.
“She called again. Twice, I think, but I wasn’t here,” Joanne said. “It was on my answering machine.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. I can’t stand this anymore.” Her fingers ached from her death grip on the phone.
“She spoke to you once, Joanne. She’ll talk again, and this time the phone company will have her. I don’t think she would leave a message.”
“If I hadn’t gone shopping I would have been home.”
“Stop. You can’t live your life waiting for the phone to ring. You’re there now, and I’ll be over later.”
After he disconnected, Joanne felt lonelier than she had in years. She turned from the telephone and pulled the teapot and tea from the cabinet. In a daze, she put water on to boil. As she worked, she tried to put herself in the stranger’s shoes, to understand why she continued to call. Did she really have anything to say? Joanne banged into a mental wall every way she turned.
When the tea was ready, she carried it into the living room, then paced in front of the picture window, not knowing what to do with herself. She finally settled into a chair and waited for Benjamin.
Eventually, headlights reflected off the snow and turned into the driveway. Joanne’s heart thumped as she rose and headed for the door. She’d begun to equate comfort and security with Benjamin.
Joanne watched him slip from the car and walk up the sidewalk, and felt a smile relax her face. When he reached the porch, she pushed back the storm door.
“Hi,” he said, bringing in the crisp smell of new snow. Flakes drifted to the floor from his jacket as he pulled it from his shoulders.
“Hi.” Joanne gazed at him, fighting the urge to kiss him hello. The vision heated her cheeks and she turned away, fearing he’d notice.
He slipped off his coat, which she hung in the closet. She held back the emotion that rattled her from the phone calls and from the unexpected sensation when she’d seen him.
“I’ve just made some tea.” She motioned him toward the living room. “Have a seat. I’ll bring it in.”
But he didn’t. Instead, he grasped her arms and closed the distance between them. “Are you okay? You sounded upset on the phone.”
“I’m fine now.” Now that you’re here, she added to herself.
Instead of releasing her, he drew her closer, and she felt his lips press against her hair. Her heart hammered at the nearness. He’d held her before to soothe her tears. Today was different. When he stepped back, his expression looked as surprised as she felt.
Neither spoke a word, and she turned away. What was happening? “Go ahead.” She motioned toward the living room. “I’ll bring it in.”
This time he listened and vanished through the archway, while Joanne stood a moment in the foyer to catch her breath.
“Mind if I put on a CD?” Benjamin called from the living room.
“Go ahead,” she said, glad to have something break the silence. She returned to the kitchen and finished pouring the tea, then grasped both cups and followed the music back into the room.
He’d selected a Michael W. Smith CD. The instrumental music drifted through the doorway, filled with faith and the power of God’s love. Benjamin knew what she needed.
“Here,” she said, handing him a mug. She settled near him in the same chairs they’d used on his previous visit.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
“I told you about the calls today—the hang-ups.”
“And you suspect they’re her again.”
“Yes, but—” She hesitated to tell him, but she knew she must.
“But? There’s more?”
“I opened another e-mail today. The same sender as last time.”
His expression knitted to a scowl. “What did this one say?”
She repeated the message. “What do you think?”
He shook his head. “That’s threatening, Joanne. The two e-mails and the hang-ups could be connected. I don’t think we should fool around with this. I’ll call the station and see if Hank’s in. If not, I’ll talk with someone else.” He rose and headed for the telephone.
A shudder shook Joanne. Threats, but why? She sat riveted to the chair, waiting and wondering. The night sky loomed outside the window, and for the first time, Joanne felt truly frightened.
“Did you print a copy of the message?” Benjamin asked as he came into the room. “He wants to see both of them.”
“I think I deleted them. I’ll have to check tomorrow.”
“Go to the mail drop-down menu and see if you can recover them. The e-mails might have been sent in error, but that seems too coincidental to me.”
“Okay,” she said, wanting to change the subject. She sipped her tea, letting the music fill her ears.
Benjamin’s eyes seemed focused on the window. He sat deep in thought with his hands folded, his elbows braced on his knees.
Joanne finally stirred. “I’ve been thinking about Christmas.”
He looked surprised, probably having expected her to talk more about the situation.
“You mean, because of all the decorations at the mall? I noticed the city has the streets trimmed already.”
“True. The wreaths, the garland, the music all make me nostalgic.” She longed to admit her feelings. “But this year is different.”
“Different? In what way?” He lifted a brow as if he didn’t understand.
“I’m looking forward to the holidays for the first time since the accident.” She wished she hadn’t mentioned it. Benjamin gave her a curious look, and she feared he would misunderstand what she wanted to say.
“That’s good. Time makes a difference. You’ll never forget, but time wears away the rough edges. Instead of the sands of time, it’s the sandpaper of time.” He gave her a tender smile.
She grinned back, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.
“It’s you that’s made the difference,” she said, deciding to open up.
“Me? Mr. Scrooge?”
The glint in his eye played games with her pulse. “You’d never be a Scrooge. You’re too kind, and yes, it is because of you. I’ve lived behind these walls without thinking about me for a long time. Now you’re here and I can remember what life used to be like before…before the accident. We used to have so much fun.”
“We did. Greg was a great friend.”
“And I was your great friend’s wife?”
His gaze left a soft feeling in her stomach.
“No. I considered you a special friend. I’ve always admired you, Joanne. I’m not sure you realized how much. I never told you.”
“Admired me? Why? I can’t even imagine.”
“You’d get a swelled head if I told you.” He looked into the mug as if searching for tea leaves. “It’s because you’re you. Charming, warm, talented and beautiful.”
Her focus lingered on his generous mouth. She forced her gaze away. “Maybe you need glasses.”
“Me? Have you ever looked in a mirror?”
She recalled looking at herself after one of the phone calls and seeing a death-white face gaping back at her. “Thanks for the flattery. I’m not used to it anymore.”
“It’s the truth, not just flattery.” He leaned back, stretching his shoulders and looking a little tense. “So what are you planning for the holidays? Anything special?”
“I thought I might have a tree this year.”
His eyes widened. “You mean you haven’t had a Christmas tree since—”
She nodded. “I will this year if you promise to come over to admire it.”
“I’ll do more than that. I’ll help you buy it and decorate—”
The telephone’s ring jarred them. Joanne gasped, and Benjamin reached across to calm her.
“Don’t panic. Answer it,” he said.
She rose, her legs already like gelatin. Benjamin followed her into the kitchen. She glanced at the caller ID.
“It’s my folks’ number,” she said.
He backed away as she lifted the receiver.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, after hearing her mother’s greeting.
“Are you coming home for Christmas?” her mom asked.
Her parents’ house hadn’t been her home for years. This was her home, where she and her husband and daughter had lived, where her life had been filled with joy. “Not this year,” she said.
“Is something wrong, Joanne?”
A blast of air shot from her lungs. “No, I have company.”
“Really? Is it…?” Her voice faded.
“It’s Greg’s old friend Benjamin. You remember him.”
“Not really.”
Joanne stared at the receiver, wondering what to say next. “I have some things going on here, so I’m staying home for the holidays. Sorry if I disappointed you.”
“Your sister and her family are coming. I thought maybe…Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
The strained conversation lasted a few more sentences before they said goodbye. Joanne heard the click and lowered the telephone. When she turned, Benjamin was watching her from across the room, his shoulder resting against the door jamb.
“She asked me about Christmas. I’m staying home.”
He only looked at her, then took a step closer. “You’ll never heal without opening your heart.”
“What does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
“I don’t have it in me, Benjamin. I—”
The telephone rang again, and Benjamin darted forward and pointed to the caller ID. She followed the direction of his finger, already knowing what he’d seen. Blocked. He stood nearby as she picked up the receiver.
Joanne said hello, then held her breath.
The line remained silent, and Joanne had to harness the impulse to scream, to threaten, but she clamped her jaw and waited. Her instinct was to hang up, but she couldn’t. The woman would talk. She sensed it, and best of all, the police would be able to locate her.
Finally, Joanne heard an intake of breath.
“Did your daughter have a birthmark?”
The whisper slithered down Joanne’s spine. Control. She needed control. “Yes,” she murmured as she looked at Benjamin for help.
“What?” he whispered, grasping her arm.
Joanne held up her hand.
“A small heart shape on her upper thigh?” The woman’s voice was so faint Joanne barely heard her.
She couldn’t breathe, and her control shattered into shards of anguish. “I don’t believe you,” she screamed into the phone. “You can’t know that. Who are you?”
The telephone went dead and Joanne crumpled to the floor.