She reached forward with soft hands now and cupped my face as she stepped toward me, muttering how I shouldn’t be so frightened or afraid of her, how her threat to whip us as she had been whipped was, of course, ridiculous. She flooded my stinging face with quick kisses, apologizing, embracing me, and bringing my face, my lips, down to the warmth of her breasts, my lips pressing to them, drawing out the warmth and love I always thought she kept safely there for me.
She released me, and I stepped back, but then she kissed me again, but this time, she kissed me on the lips the way I had seen her kiss my father so many times. It wasn’t simply a smack on the lips; it was a kiss that cried for forgiveness. When she pulled away, she stroked my hair and smiled that soft, loving smile I had known so well all my life.
“Will you forgive me? Will you?”
“Yes, Momma,” I said. “I forgive you.”
She burst into a wide, ecstatic smile and reached for Cathy’s hand. I could see that Cathy was trembling with fear. She had never seen our mother like she was moments ago, either. She looked at me, her face slowly hardening now more into anger than surprise or fear. I gave her a look of reassurance, but she wasn’t ready to accept any. Momma could see that, too.
Momma told us she had overreacted because everything was finally going our way. That perked up Cathy.
“How?” Cathy asked. “Tell us how it’s going our way.”
“I can’t right now,” Momma said. “I’ve got to get back. Perhaps I’ll have time to tell you everything tomorrow. Forgive me, Christopher,” she said, and kissed me again before going to the door. And then, before she walked out, she said something that sounded out of place, even stupid. “Merry Christmas.”
She closed and locked the door.
Cathy turned to me. “For a while there, I thought our grandmother from hell had gotten into her body,” she said, and then, slowly, she gazed at all the presents. Suddenly, everything looked out of place for both of us—these gifts, being locked away, us being our little sister and brother’s parents, and a grandmother threatening us with a rainstorm of hell if we broke any of her ridiculous rules. “Merry Christmas,” Cathy said bitterly.
“She didn’t mean it, Cathy. She got frightened when I wasn’t here. She thought I had been discovered and it was all over,” I told her.
She moved quietly, silently, looking like her tongue had hardened into stone in her mouth, and then she got back into bed with Carrie.
I got undressed quickly and
decided to lie beside her for a while. Without a word, she rested her head on my chest, and I slipped my arm around her.
To my surprise, Kane lowered the diary and looked at me. He had been reading so well and was so into it that I truly felt as if I was there alongside Christopher. I hated for him to stop. We still had plenty of time.
“What?”
“That sofa you’re on.”
“What about it?”
“It’s a pull-out.”
“So?”
He rose. “Let’s do it,” he said. I sat looking up at him. “Re-create the scene,” he added, and held out his hand. I took it, and he helped me up and then removed the cushions and lifted out the sofa bed. There was a cloud of dust. We waved our hands in front of our faces. “We should clean up this place a bit. They cleaned up their attic,” he said.
“Just what I need, more housework.”
“I’ll help.” He looked around and went to one of the trunks, opened it, and took out an old comforter. “This will work for now,” he said, and spread it on the sofa bed. Then he put the pillows back on the bed. “Ta-daaaa.”
“What are we doing?”
“We’re Christopher and Cathy lying on that mattress.” He picked up the diary. “Come on,” he said, and lay down on the sofa bed.
I remember thinking that maybe we were going too far with this, but it also intrigued me. I did what he asked. He sat up, pulled off his shirt, and lay back again, patting his chest. I knew what he wanted and laid my head against him. He held up the diary to begin reading again, his right arm slipping comfortably around my shoulders.
“Wait,” he said.
“What?”
“You’ve got to get more into it, get closer to the way Cathy was at this point.”
“I don’t exactly have a nightgown up here, Kane.”