Chapter 3 - The Hallway Behind The Christmas Trees
He didn't pick me up right away. I remember that because I'd braced for it, my arms locked around my bear so tight my fingers hurt. He stayed kneeling by that cream sofa, his hand still resting on the arm where the gold scrollwork dug into the velvet, and he looked over his shoulder toward where the woman had been standing.
People were starting to stare. I could feel it more than see it. The music from the ballroom hadn't stopped, but the voices around us had dropped. The Christmas trees threw that warm light across the marble and I could hear the soft clink of glasses from the tables nearby, and someone's laugh that cut off too quick.
He turned back to me and his voice stayed low, just for me.
"Can you hold tight to your bear for me?" he said. "We're gonna go somewhere quieter to talk, okay? Just you and me."
I nodded. I didn't trust my voice yet.
He stood first, then slid one arm carefully under my legs and the other around my back. He lifted me straight off the sofa like I weighed nothing, bear and all. My red dress rode up a little and my pink shoes dangled and I buried my face against his tuxedo jacket. It smelled like clean laundry and something faintly cologne-y and the cold outside that had stuck to his shoulders. He held me against his chest with one hand supporting me and the other cupping the back of my head for just a second, like he was shielding me from the room.
We moved away from the sofa and the chandeliers. He didn't walk fast. He walked like he wanted people to think this was normal, like a dad taking his kid to find the restroom. I kept my bear pressed between us and watched his silver wristwatch catch the light as he walked. The face of it ticked against my leg with each step. His hand was shaking. I felt it through my dress, a fine tremor in the arm holding my legs, even though his voice had been perfectly calm.
We passed behind the big Christmas trees that lined the back wall. The hallway there was narrower than I expected, with dark wood panels and a runner carpet that muffled our steps. Garlands ran along the top and there were small white lights tucked into them. The ballroom noise got softer with every step, until it was just his breathing and mine and the faint squeak of my socks in his hands.
He pushed open a door with his shoulder. Inside was a private dressing suite, the kind I'd never seen before. There was a vanity with a bright mirror, a rack of coats, a little velvet bench, and a folding screen in the corner. It was warm and quiet and smelled like hairspray.
He set me down on the bench carefully, kneeling again so we were eye level. He kept one hand lightly on the bench beside me, not touching me, not touching my bear. He let me settle.
I finally got a good look at him up close in that mirror light. The gray at his temples was lighter than it had looked in the ballroom. His bow tie was perfectly straight. His eyes were red at the edges, like he hadn't blinked enough.
"You're safe in here," he said. "Nobody's gonna rush us."
I nodded and adjusted my bear on my lap. Its brown fur was a little matted where I'd been holding it.
He looked at the bear then, not at me. Really looked at it.
"Can I see his leg for a second?" he asked. "I won't take him away, I promise. Just the little band."
I hesitated, then tilted the bear forward. The thin blue band around its lower leg was frayed at the edge, faded from being washed. I'd always thought it was just part of the bear.
He didn't touch it right away. He stared, and his mouth did something small and tight. He reached out and his fingertips hovered just above the band, and I saw that shaking again, clearer now in the bright vanity lights. The silver watch slid a little down his wrist as his hand trembled.
"I know this band," he said quietly, almost to himself. "I know exactly where this came from."
My breath caught. I hugged the bear closer without meaning to.
"Grace Bennett gave him to you, you said?" he asked, looking back up at me.
I nodded.
He swallowed. His calm was still there, but it was thinner now, like a coat pulled tight over something moving underneath.
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"That name," he said. "Bennett. That blue band. They go together. I've seen this before."
He didn't say what it meant. He just kept looking at the bear in my lap, his hand still shaking beside it, and the quiet of that little suite pressed in around us while the party went on without us on the other side of the wall.
