This is part 3…if you missed 1 and 2, click here to read the beginning.

At five a clock, Julia was standing on Carrie’s doorstep.  She knocked softly when she saw the sign that said, “Sleeping baby.  Please do not ring the bell!”

But even a moment of experience told her that there was no sleeping baby and that a soft knock was going to get her nowhere.  Screaming and wailing was emanating from inside at a terrifying decibel level.  Julia thought about jumping back in her Subaru.  But alas, the concert tickets.

Julia knocked, rang, and finally called Carrie’s phone.

When Carrie appeared, she was barefoot but impeccably clad in a classy, black, knee length dress with flowing sleeves.  Her hair was twisted up on her head beautifully—quite a transformation from the Door Dash in blue jeans earlier that morning.

“So sorry!”  Carrie was warm and apologetic.  He just woke up and he’s…he’s…he’s…

“Screaming,”  Julia finished for her.

“Yes, I was trying to think of a nicer word.  Hungry, maybe?”

Carrie quickly showed Julia around…The changing table…the formula…the pajamas…the swing…all the ways they tried to keep him entertained. 

“It doesn’t work…he basically has two modes, sleep and scream.  But we keep trying.”

Julia nodded but was secretly convinced that she could get him to be happy.

“Sorry about the house.”  Carrie apologized as they finished.  “I wasn’t expecting to get another child right now—especially an infant.  As you can see, I was just about to decorate for Christmas when they called and I’ve never gotten back to it.”

Julia did see.  Red tubs were stacked in the hallway.  A few decorations were strewn here and there.

“As Rick says, I have a hard time saying ‘no’.  But this one has definitely given us a run for our money.  They just can’t seem to be able to find someone else for him at Christmas.”

“That’s okay.”  Julia was really trying to reassure herself.  “Don’t worry about your house; You have a lot on your plate.”

“I do…and that’s why I really want this evening to be special.  Rick puts up with so much of my nonsense.  He hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in three weeks.”

Julia nodded.  “Go on and finish getting ready.   I’ll get him fed.”

“Would you?  That would be so awesome.  Rick’s supposed to be picking me up any minute.”

Malachi screamed as Julia changed his wet diaper.  He screamed as she mixed and warmed the formula.  He screamed as she offered him the bottle.  He screamed between anxious sips.  He seemed hungry, but didn’t want to stop screaming even to eat.

Julia waived Carrie out the door, sat in the rocker, and crooned to the wriggling, crying creature in her lap.   He would stop for a moment and she would sigh with relief only to find that he was just recharging his batteries to scream some more.

No wonder the babysitter had called in sick.  No wonder none of her other friends could watch this little guy “so close to Christmas.”  No wonder poor Rick needed an evening out.  This powerful set of lungs that, by all rights, should secure him a lead role as an opera singer somewhere.  No microphone needed.

Julia rocked him.  She walked with him.  She bounced him.

It made no difference.  He cried on.

He was changed.  He was fed.  He was in a warm, dry house.  He was held close by tender arms.  But the unhappy little guy wormed and wiggled, kicked and screamed.  Julia had never experienced anything like it.

It was only 5:30.

Julia mustered all of the mother instinct she could and started talking to the little guy.  When she ran out of small talk, she began to tell him all her troubles.    She explained all about the cancer, the treatments, the medicines, the side effects, the loneliness, the depression.

Perhaps he was sympathetic, but if so, he didn’t show it.  Then she heard herself say, “Malachi, you remind me of myself.  You’re acting like I’ve been acting.”

The revelation was transformative for Julia.  She continued.

“I’m cared for.  I’m fed.  I have clean clothes.  A warm roof over my head.  A loving husband.  A kind family.  But I don’t like my circumstances.  And I’m being a pill.  I’m miserable.  And I’m making everyone around me miserable.”

Somehow, expressing that out loud brought a flood of release.  Even Malachi seemed to sense it.  Or perhaps exhaustion was taking over his tiny frame.  His cries were weakening into a fitful sleep.

Julia continued to hold him and rock, thinking about what she had just said aloud.  She was loved.  She had received excellent health care.  She had a warm, safe place to live.  She had good food to eat.  She had a beautiful life with the man of her dreams.  Why was she acting like a screaming infant?  Why was she putting Stuart, of all people, through such misery?  When had she last thanked Stuart for standing with her through this traumatic year?

When Julia had rocked a long time, and when her soul had found a place of peace, she gently laid Malachi back in his crib.   It was only 6:30.  She tried to call Stuart.  There was no answer so she left him a quick message.

“Hope you’re having a good evening! Love you!”  she said in the happiest voice she had used in a long, long time.

The sudden calm sparked something else inside her.  Her years of babysitting were replaying in her mind.  Not only did the kids love her best, the parents did too.  She prided herself in never letting parents come home to a messy house.

She began to load the dishwasher.  She folded a mountain of laundry and started more.  She swept the floor and wiped the counters.  Then she eyed the stack of tubs and the untrimmed tree.  Did she dare?

She dared.

It was a pre-lit, fake tree and the lights were the soft gold color she liked so much.  She laughed as she thought about how disappointed she had been with the stark white lights.  Why had she made such a big deal about that?  Stuart deserved a medal for putting up with her.  Quickly, the tree came to life with a bucket of red, blue, and silver bulbs.  She found a spool of silver ribbon and began to twist it around and around.  An enormous red bow made the perfect crown on the top.

Julia felt the best she had felt since…she couldn’t remember when.  She found herself humming softly and even started playing some soft Christmas music on her phone.  She pranced…maybe even danced a few steps.

She was surprised Stuart hadn’t called back, so she sent him a quick text.  “Sorry about earlier.  I know you’re trying.  I love you.” 

Julia was exhausted but happy when Rick and Carrie pulled into the driveway.  They thanked her again and again, glancing around the orderly home, illuminated by the glow of the tree.  Carrie even had a tear or two in her eyes.  Stockings were hanging over the fireplace and the table was set with candles and garland.

Rick pressed some cash into Carrie’s hand.  She tried to refuse, but they insisted.

Even though she was tired, Julia decided to take the long way home, around the block.  There were a lot of young families in the officer housing and many had their houses decorated with lights and blow up yard ornaments.  She had yet to go out to see them.

She was humming softly to herself as she turned the corner.  Then something caught her eye.

It was Stuart’s truck. 

Stuart’s truck was parked in Eric and Olivia Green’s driveway.  Eric, she knew, was deployed.  Only Olivia would be home.  It was 10:15 pm.  There was only one soft light on that she could see; everything else was dark and still. 

The joy that she had permitted back into her life began escaping like air from a bike tire punctured by a nail.  Why?  Why would Stuart be at Olivia’s house?  Why would he lie to her about working late?  Why…just when she was starting to feel good again…this?

Julia stumbled into her house and sank onto the couch.  It seemed as if she was going to lose Stuart too.  The only thing she had left.

She looked up at the tree they had decorated together only the night before. 

The porcelain ornament she had admired was illuminated by the ultra-white lights.  The smiling face seemed to be taunting her.  The photo told the fake story.  The staged version.  In real life, there had been a large, messy splat. 

Perhaps, in that moment, one year ago, she should have been a little less confident and a little more cautious.  She remembered lying on that bridge, tangled in her dress, with the white fur cape choking her under the chin for an unfortunate moment.  She had that choking feeling again. This time, she was not laughing.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she heard Stuart’s truck pull up outside.  She didn’t know what to do, but she knew she couldn’t face him.  Quickly, she grabbed a blanket, curled up, and pretended to be asleep.

Check back soon for part 4.