Chapter Seventeen
Nana needs run over by a reindeer...
Beau
I kissed Ivy. Ivy kissed me. Our lips were pressed together. That s all I can think about the entire drive back to the house. And having kids with Ivy someday. That too. But for right now, the kissing.
And here s the thing. It hadn t been that hard to get our lips pressed together. Sure, the kiss only lasted a few seconds, and sure, Ivy acted like everything about it was pretend.
But the kiss wasn t pretend. It happened. Let Ivy say all she wants about this perfect plan of hers, but I know one thing—she likes me. A lot. She s just too stubborn to admit it. Which is fine. I can work with stubborn. I don t mind stubborn. Stubborn and I are good friends.
The moment we step inside, Pinky Collar greets us with the chewed-up gnome in her mouth. The one I ve already had several discussions with her about not chewing.
I am so tired of stubborn.
Hey, I say, separating PC from her newest obsession and scooping her into my arms. Her little tongue and teeth nip at my chin. I m about to send you back to the orphanage.
Sure you are, says Ivy, removing her snowy boots.
I am. I mean it. She s the worst. Aren t you, PC? You are the absolute worst. She wiggles and peppers my face with razor-sharp kisses as I nuzzle her back. Man, she s so stinking cute.
Oh good, you re back. Thanks for taking care of the baskets. Mom walks out of the kitchen as Hamish prances next to her trying to snag the towel dangling from her hands. The second he spots Ivy, he barrels toward her.
About time you noticed me, says Ivy, crouching down to love on Hamish with rubs and pats.
Is Dad home with Nana yet? I manage to remove my snowy boots while Pinky squirms in my arms.
Just got here, Mom says. She s getting settled upstairs. There s, uh... something we need to talk about before you see her though.
Everything okay? I know Nana had some sort of episode a few weeks ago, but I thought everything had resolved and she was back to her usual spitfire self.
Mom squeezes the dish towel like she s wringing a chicken s neck while we hang our coats on the coat rack by the front door. Your father and I didn t want to alarm anybody, what with it being Christmas and all, but um... no, truth is, Nana isn t doing so well.
I lower Pinky Collar to the floor. Oh, is that the truth, huh?
Because I m pretty sure the truth is I ve never met a worse liar than my mom.
If the dish towel hadn t already given her away, the fact she can t meet a single one of us in the eye—including the dogs—tells me every word coming out of her mouth is hogwash.
But why? What s she up to?
We honestly weren t even sure she d be strong enough to visit this Christmas, Mom continues, her knuckles turning white from her death grip on the dish towel.
But when she heard about Beau s upcoming engagement, which I may have accidentally let slip the other day, she insisted Rob come and get her.
She was so excited to meet you, Ivy, and well.
.. we just haven t had the heart to tell her you two aren t really together.
Especially since this could be... her last Christmas.
Okay, let s not get too dramatic here, Mom. The sigh was a little much at the end.
Ivy straightens from petting Hamish. I m so sorry to hear that.
Right. Well... Mom s eyes dart to the ceiling, then to the Christmas tree. The dish towel. Back to the ceiling. Rob and I were thinking it might be better to let her keep thinking you two are really engaged.
You want us to lie? Ivy s eyebrows bunch together.
Not lie. No. Mom s left eye is twitching faster than Pinky Collar s tail is wagging. Just delay the truth a little. Twitch twitch twitch. She s so worn out from all her travels today, I d hate to give her such a big blow right after getting here.
I rub my palm over my mouth. All her travels? Nana lives twenty-two miles away.
You don t mind pretending to be engaged when you go up to see her, do you? Just for this evening? Mom s going to need a new dish towel if this goes on much longer.
Don t worry, Mom. Ivy and I are great at pretending. Isn t that right, Ivy?
Ivy ignores my wink. Maybe we should just let her rest this evening. Straighten things out in the morning.
No, no. Mom and Hamish start playing tug-of-war with the dish towel. She really wants to see you two. Upstairs. In her bedroom. Right now. She specifically said so. You should get up there. Just remember that you re engaged.
Mom lets Hamish win the dish towel so she can shoo Ivy and me up the stairs. Hurry. No time like the present.
Ivy s already giving me a what s everyone up to? look when we reach the spare bedroom reserved for Nana anytime she stays the night. I give Ivy my best what could you possibly suspect from an innocent family like mine? look back as I knock on the door. Nana? You awake?
The most pathetic and weakest Come in, my child, I ve ever heard in my life answers the knock. I press my lips together. I m not sure I m going to be able to get through this. My child?
Closer, closer, Nana s frail voice says as her hand beckons us to the full-sized bed covered in a blue-and-white quilt that I m pretty sure came from her own needlework several years ago.
A lamp on the dresser reveals her petite form beneath the covers.
Her long silver hair is braided and wrapped in its usual coil around the top of her head. Is this the one? Your beloved fiancée?
I peek at Ivy. There s no way she s buying this. But until she calls foul, I guess I ll keep playing along. I rest my hand on Ivy s lower back as we step next to the bed. This is Ivy, Nana.
Ivy reaches down for Nana s hand. So nice to meet you, ma am.
Call me Nana. You re already family. Take a seat. Let me get a good look at you.
Ivy perches on the edge of the bed, still holding Nana s hand.
Well, aren t you a pretty little thing? says Nana.
Thank you. We can let you rest if you re tired.
My strength is fading, aye, tis so, says Nana with a pitiful cough and an Irish lilt I ve never heard in her voice before. Probably because she was born and bred in a little town north of Iowa City.
I end up coughing to cover my own little laugh. She s about as good an actress as her daughter-in-law.
Mind telling me what s wrong? says Ivy. Maybe I can help.
Nana pats Ivy s hand. If only you could. But I m afraid the damage has already been done. A few weeks ago I received a terrible diagnosis. The doctors are calling it a TIA.
I don t know what that means, but something tells me Ivy does. She shoots me a glance over her shoulder, one of her eyebrows lifting, then peers back at Nana. Is that so?
Aye, says Nana in a voice even frailer than before.
Who knows how much time I have left in this world?
Might even be gone by morning. But if I could see proof of the love you and my grandson share, then I m sure I could die happy tonight if that s the Lord s will.
She continues coughing like she s auditioning for Tiny Tim in a community theater production of A Christmas Carol.
Goodness, says Ivy, sounding like she s auditioning for Nurse Ratched in a theater production of One Flew Over the Cuckoo s Nest . That s some cough you got there.
Probably the death rattle. So if you two could just allow me to see one loving kiss before I go...
You know, I must say your color looks wonderful for someone who s about to croak, says Ivy.
Tis the lamp, says Nana, her fake Irish brogue growing thicker by the second.
I see. Well, you heard her, Beau, says Ivy, patting the bed next to her. Guess we better kiss. Hold on. Oh-ho-ho, what do we have here?
No need to sit, says Nana. I ll see you better if you re standing.
Rather lumpy bed. Ivy and Nana start a tug-of-war match with the quilt. Must say, Nana, you ve got an awfully strong grip for someone who s dying.
Give that back, says Nana when Ivy tugs the covers far enough back to reveal a crossword puzzle book.
Not sure I ve ever seen someone do a crossword puzzle while they re on their deathbed, says Ivy, flipping through the pages. In pen, no less.
It s not my brain that s suffering, it s my heart, says Nana, snatching the book back. Just kiss already!
Beau and I aren t engaged any more than you re dying, and you know it, says Ivy, jumping up from the bed.
Nana frowns at Ivy, then at me. I lift my hands. Hey, I m all for kissing and getting engaged. Don t look at me.
Nana returns her scowl back to Ivy. What s the matter then? Are you saying my Beau s not good enough for you?
He s a baseball player.
What s wrong with that? says Nana.
She wants to marry a teacher, I say. After she turns thirty.
What s so special about teachers and turning thirty? shouts Nana. Why not marry your soulmate right now?
Who ever said Beau was my soulmate? says Ivy.
I just did, says Nana, shoving the rest of the covers aside. Perhaps you re the one having the TIA.
Anyone ever going to explain what a TIA is? I ask.
It s when you have symptoms of a stroke that completely resolve on their own, says Ivy, giving Nana a pointed look.
Well, if you two are just going to stand here acting silly all evening, I m heading downstairs for supper. Nana pops out of the bed quicker than a jack-in-the-box.
So happy to see you ve made a full recovery, says Ivy.
Better watch this one, Beau, Nana says, pausing to wave a finger at Ivy. Something tells me she s a handful. Exactly the type you want to hold on to.
That s my plan, I say, grinning at Ivy. Just need to get the handful on board with the idea.