After the contact had lasted a while, she followed Claire. “This one’s beautiful. I love the smell of pine needles this time of year.”
“Yeah…” Claire tugged on one of the branches and watched it bounce, drops of water spraying everywhere.
“Let’s get this one.”
“Whatever…”
Constance stood beside her, her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Why do you want the other tree?”
“Because no one else is going to buy it.”
My daughter had a big heart, would take any charity case that showed up on our doorstep. Anytime we saw a stray animal, she wanted to keep it, but I was in no position to raise my daughter and take care of a pet, so I had to find them homes and listen to her cry every time I gave them away.
Constance turned her head to watch Claire. “But if we don’t get this tree, someone else might not choose it either.”
Claire gave a shrug. “I just feel bad for him.”
Constance gave a smile before placing her arms around my daughter’s shoulders, a look in her eyes that was completely genuine. The affection was real. The love unquestioned. I couldn’t remember a time when Beatrice wore a look remotely similar. “Baby, that’s so sweet.” She rubbed her arms as she hugged her close. “How about this? We get this beautiful Douglas fir to put in the living room by the fire, and we get the other one to put in your bedroom?”
When Claire looked up at her, there were fireworks in her eyes. “Really?”
“It’ll be my Christmas gift to you.” She pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Thanks, Constance.” Claire gave her a squeeze then ran off to the emaciated tree that belonged in the chipper.
Constance watched her go before her eyes turned back to me. The smile faded. Her gaze hardened, as if she expected me to challenge her.
I didn’t.
I carried the bigger tree inside to the left of the fireplace. There were just a few inches from the top of the tree to the ceiling, enough room for Claire to hang up the star when we decorated.
The other was put in Claire’s room near the door, pine needles dropping everywhere because the thing had been dead a while. It would only last a week before it was a skeleton of dead branches.
But Claire was happy, so it didn’t matter.
“Can we decorate the tree now?” Claire asked.
“It’s time for bed.”
“Pleeeaassse.”
My eyes narrowed, and that was all I needed to do.
She dropped her head and headed off to bed.
“Tomorrow, sweetheart.” After she brushed her teeth and put on her pajamas, I tucked her in for the night, the dead tree casting shadows that looked like long, lifeless fingers. I stroked her hair and gave her a kiss.
“Can we decorate this tree too?”
If we bought ornaments and lights, it would be a commitment. And that commitment would turn into a tradition. I’d have one of the ugliest trees on the lot in my home every single year.
But I couldn’t say no. “Sure.”
I turned off the light and shut the door. The night was over for the two of them, but mine was just getting started. I grabbed my gun from my nightstand and prepared to head out.
“You’re leaving?” Constance was on the couch in the living room, her pea coat on the coatrack so she was in her blouse and tight jeans. Her dark hair perfectly fell around her face, soft and shiny.
The howls of the demon played in my mind, the deep baritone of his cries, the high-pitched level of his screams. The tantrum had been so unnatural that I would never forget it. The breaks in the syllables of his speech, the way his fingers curled into fists as if he were imagining her dress in his grasp.
Her stare continued, waiting for an answer.
With those fair cheeks and deep eyes, she was worthy of his obsession. Even dressed in all black as she was now, she was still angelic. Just her voice alone was ethereal, as if she belonged somewhere far above the earth. “Yes.”
She left the couch and approached me in the foyer, the gold necklace around her throat casting a glimmer of reflection from the dimmers in the ceiling. She always called me out on my bullshit, but she never held a grudge either. It was forgotten the moment it happened. It reminded me of the way I was with Bleu, like the connection between us was stronger than anything that happened outside of it. It was elemental, unconditional, almost permanent. “I don’t know what you’re out there doing, but whatever it is, be careful.”
My eyes shifted back and forth as I looked into her eyes, seeing a woman who relied on me the way a wife relied on her husband, who berated me the way a sister would her brother, overrode me the way a mother would override a father. “You never have to worry about me.”