Diane Chamberlain - Her Mothers Shadow

Christmas 1990

T here was cheer in the house in the heart of Manteo. From the outside, the large two-story frame building that served as the battered womens shelter was nondescript. There were no Christmas lights hanging from the eaves, not even a wreath on the door, as if the people who ran the house were afraid to draw attention to it, and Lacey supposed they were. Cruel men had put the women and children here, the sort of men she had no experience with and found hard to imagine. But she could see the fear in the womens faces and knew those men existed. More than that, she did not really want to know.

Although there was no sign of the season outside the house, inside was another story. Fresh garlands decorated the railing that led up to the bedrooms, and branches of holly were piled on top of the huge old mantel. The scent of pine was so strong it had seared Laceys nostrils when she first walked inside. A huge tree stood in the corner of the living room, decorated with white lights and colored glass balls and topped by one of her mothers stained glass angels. The tree was alive, and Lacey did not need to ask if that was her mothers doing. Of course it was. Annie ONeill always insisted on live trees. They had one at home, and Lacey knew both trees would be taken inland, away from the sandy soil of the Outer Banks, to be planted once the Christmas season was over.

She had not wanted to come to the battered womens shelter tonight. Shed wanted to stay home and listen to her new CDs and try on her new jeans with the rivets down the sides. Shed wanted to talk to her best friend, Jessica, on the phone to compare the gifts theyd received and decide what movie they would see the following afternoon. But her mother had insisted.

You have so much, shed said to Lacey the week before. You will have already opened your presents and had Christmas dinner with me and Daddy and Clay. These women and their children will have nothing. Less than nothing. Theyll have fear for Christmas, Lacey. Her mother spoke with great drama, the way she always did. Their families will be torn apart, she continued. Serving them dinner, singing a few carols with themthats the least we can do, dont you think?

Now, standing behind the long tables and dishing out Christmas dinner to the women and children, Lacey was glad she had come. At thirteen, she was certainly the youngest of the volunteers, and she felt proud of herself, proud of her kindness and generosity. She was just like her mother, whom all the other volunteers turned to for direction. Annie ONeill was the most important person in the room. The tree in the corner probably wouldnt exist if it werent for her mother. The buffet tables would probably hold half as much food. Maybe the entire shelter would not be here if it werent for Annie. Lacey wasnt sure about that, but it seemed a real possibility to her.

She smiled at the women as she spooned green beans onto their plates. Six women, some of them still bearing the bruises that had sent them to the shelter, and more than a dozen children filed past the tables, balancing real china plates. Her mother had insisted that all the volunteers bring their good china for the women and their children to use. They cant eat Christmas dinner off paper plates, Lacey had heard her say to one of the volunteers a few weeks before. At the time, she thought her mother was just being silly, but now she could see how much the beautiful plates and the cloth napkins and the glittery lights from the tree meant to these women. They needed every speck of beauty and warmth they could get right now.

Outside, a cold rain beat against the houses wood siding and thrummed steadily against the windows. It had rained all day, a cold and icy rain, and she and her mother had skidded a couple of times as they drove to Manteo.

Remember how it snowed on Christmas last year? her mother had said as Lacey complained about the rain. Lets just pretend this is snow.

Her mother was an excellent pretender. She could make any situation fun by twisting it around so that it was better than it really was. Lacey was too old for that sort of pretending, but her mother could always charm her into just about anything. So, theyd talked about how beautiful the snow-covered scenery was as they passed it, how the housetops were thick with white batting and how the whitecaps on the ocean to their left were really an icy concoction of snow and froth. The dunes at Jockeys Ridge were barely visible through the rain, but her mother said they looked like smooth white mountains rising up from the earth. They pretended the rain falling against the windshield of the car was really snowflakes. Lacey had to put her fingers in her ears to block out the pounding of the rain in order to really imagine that, but then she could see itthe wipers collecting the snow and brushing it from the car. It fluttered past the passenger side window like puffs of white feathers.