Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Ichabod wondered if his parents were actually going to make it to Thanksgiving dinner.
They were supposed to come on Tuesday, and it was now Wednesday afternoon.
He was mixing up vegetables he’d cooked in butter with cubes of stuffing mix and cornbread, and then covering it with a layer of chicken stock because his mom wasn’t there to do it.
He was a little worried about them—had they hit weather someplace along the way?
Not only was he worried about them, he was worried about disappointing the kids who were looking forward to introducing their grandparents to Ellis. They were excited to have news that he had a boyfriend.
“Hey, babe.” Ellis came back in from checking on a couple of heifers that had started dragging, warning him they were failing with the cold weather, even with the supplemental feed. “What can I do?” He washed up at the sink and then stood there like a soldier waiting for Ichabod’s command.
He held his gooey hands out in front of him, not wanting to touch anything, but at the same time needing Ellis to come over and give him a kiss. “Come over here and show me that everything is going to be okay,” he asked.
Ellis came right to him, giving him a long, deep kiss that made his ears ring. “You know everything is going to be okay,” he said. “You told me your folks are a little bit flighty, and they’ve been answering their texts.”
“I know, I do, and it’s just—” Ichabod rolled his eyes. “I know that compared to you, I’m a little flighty and odd, but really I’m the normal one.”
“Seriously?” Ellis poked him in the belly, making his muscles tighten. “You’re normal? Are you sure?”
“Shut up.” He chuckled and went to wash off his hands. “I grew up with artists. No bedtimes, no real rules, go to school if you wanted to. My sister and I are both artists by trade, but I kind of didn’t want to raise my kids like that.”
Ichabod wanted them to know somebody cared enough to pay attention and make sure they were well taken care of, he guessed. He wanted consistency and stability.
He wanted to be a good parent, and while his parents loved him dearly, sometimes they weren’t very satisfying.
“Hey, you got this.” Ellis swayed with him almost as if they were dancing. “Your kids love you, and I know teenagers are hard, but you’re raising solid citizens of the world. Good kids. And I got your back.”
Zane walked in, heading right for the fridge, where he grabbed a bottle of orange juice. “Ew. Old dudes, stop snuggling. Nasty.”
Damn. Challenge accepted. Ichabod leaned into Ellis so dramatically. “Oh, smoochy poo. I wuv voo.”
“Dad! Seriously, you’re gonna make me barf!”
Ellis’s eyes lit up, and he smacked his lips with all the drama he possessed. “Oh, honey bear.”
“Honey bear?” Zane rolled his eyes. “Yo, be nice! I’m gonna tell on you!”
Ichabod remembered those same words coming so often. God, it was cute. He’d missed this easiness with Zane, and he sent a thank you to Vic, wherever he was, for giving even a little of it back.
“Shaking in my boots, kiddo,” Ellis drawled, batting his eyelashes, but he was grinning hugely.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Zane was smiling, though, and it suited Ichabod to the bone.
“Daddy! Granny and Pop-Pop are here! I see them!” Allie bounced, heading for the door.
“Hold up, baby girl. It’s cold and you’re not wearing shoes. Go get your muck boots on so you can run out and say hi.”
“Okay!” She ran to get her boots and her little knitted poncho, then charged back to the door. Mavis barked, nails clicking on the floor, always moving to protect.
Chrissy toddled to Ellis and held her arms up, obviously worried.
He scooped her up and held her close. “It’s all right, little bit,” he said. “It’s your granny. It’s this exciting.”
She didn’t look convinced.
“You like them, sweetie. You’ll remember.” Ichabod hoped. Who knew with a three-year-old? “Michael! They’re here.”
“Coming! Zane, they’re here. Let’s go!” Michael threw open the door, waving wildly. “Granny! Pop-Pop! Happy Thanksgiving Eve!”
“Hello, my angels!” His mom bent to hug Michael as she swept in the door, then grabbed Zane to give him a squeeze. Allie was last, getting a swing around. She stopped short when she saw Chrissy with Ellis.
She was in her full art professor get-up—bright purple cat’s eye glasses that matched her dyed hair, black sweater and leggings with rings and bangles. She looked beautiful. “You’re the cowboy?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m Ellis McIntyre. Pleased to meet you.”
“So polite. I do love that in a cowboy.” She reached in and hugged him as if she had the total right to. “I’m Jett, and this is my husband Aiden.”
Allie shook her head. “No, you’re Granny, and that’s Pop-Pop.”
Dad grinned at her. “Yes, dear. But you know how Daddy’s name is Ichabod? Well, my name is Aiden, but you can call me Pop-Pop.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, like this is Bell.”
“Bell?” Mom asked.
It was Michael who answered this time before Ichabod could even open his mouth. “Yeah, that’s Dad’s boyfriend, and the kids call him Bell. We call him Ellis.”
“Ah.” His dad chuckled. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ellis. Chrissy, do you remember Pop-Pop? I missed you. We brought some cupcakes in Glenwood to bring to you.” He winked at Ichabod, who fought not to roll his eyes.
Sugar ahoy.
Mom nodded and smiled. “Yes, and I have to get cooking. I’m going to make dressing!”
Ichabod found Mom the blandest of smiles.
“Mom, it’s too late. It’s already made. In fact it’s in the fridge waiting to be cooked tomorrow.
” He wasn’t going to bitch at them for being who they were, but on the other hand, he also wasn’t going to let it slip by that if they weren’t able to keep their plans with him, he had to make sure his children weren’t disappointed.
“Well, then, I can make you some to freeze for leftovers.” She breezed past him, holding Allie’s hand.
Ellis raised an eyebrow at him, and he gave the slightest shake of his head.
“Michael, come help me unload the car since you put your boots on,” Dad said.
“Sure, Pop-Pop, I can do that.” Michael headed out and Zane disappeared back into his bedroom.
Ichabod was not going to apologize and he wasn’t going to feel bad for protecting his children. Mom was going to have to cope. Or not. It was totally up to her.
Ellis kissed Chrissy’s cheek, then set her down. “Go on back and watch Blue’s Clues, honey.” It was always on, so that was a safe thing to tell her, Ichabod knew. She toddled off, and Ellis came to put a hand behind his neck. “You okay?”
“Good, glad you’re here.” Ichabod leaned, soaking Ellis up. “It’s hard— Families are hard, right?”
“Hell, yes. I have all these moving parts in mine. Halves and steps and… and I really get along with my dad. That’s it.” Ellis kissed the top of his head.
“I love Mom. I just have a different style.” He was a lot more regimented, and she didn’t understand it.
“Sure. And I can tell you’re cautious. My mom is— Well, yours looks like a doll by comparison.” Ellis winked at him. “I’ll go check on Chrissy.”
“I’ll go check on Mom.” Because he didn’t have another choice.
“Okay, honey. Holler if you need me.” Ellis winked, and he wanted to call the man a coward, but he knew better. He was giving Ichabod a chance to make nice with Mom before dinner tomorrow.
“Hey, Mom. You find everything you need? The pepper’s in the cabinet to your left.”
“Thanks, hon. So what recipe did you use?”
He wanted to sigh, but he reminded himself that Allie was sitting right there.
“Yours. I’ve watched you make it for years.” He didn’t roll his eyes. Not.
“Oh, well, good.” She chuckled. “I’m sorry we worried you. We found the most amazing little artsy B&B when the roads got bad.”
“That’s all right. I know how much you like discovering new places.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” She kissed his cheek. “Allie, do you want to tear bread?”
She nodded, obviously a little unnerved. His little girl was so sensitive.
So, he made sure to smile and say, “You are the best tearer of bread, you know.”
That made her grin, and she bounced over. “I like to tear things up. I tear paper up sometimes, and I get in trouble at school.”
“You know that art that’s made with torn paper is called Chigiri-e? It’s very old from Japan, and when I say very old, I mean thousands of years old. How cool is that?” Mom did love her esoteric art knowledge, and she loved sharing it best of all.
“There’s also quilling,” Ichabod put in. “It’s made by cutting or tearing up paper and curling it.”
“Neat!” Allie started shredding bread with a single-minded intensity.
“How’s the new studio working out for you?” Mom asked.
Ichabod bounced on his toes, excitement filling him. At some point the studio would be passé, but not today. “It’s amazing. I can’t wait to show it off. It’s big, it’s got everything I need, Ellis rewired everything for me, and it’s perfect. I’ve been doing some good work.”
Allie paused in her tearing. “Me too, Granny. I have been in there. I made cups.”
“Have you now?” Mom seemed so pleased. Her smile finally warmed up a bit. “Did you make it on the wheel or did you use coil or slab?”
Allie blinked. “Throwing, of course. I’ve been throwing since I was little.”
He met Mom’s eyes, and they both didn’t smile. Because, you know, six? Six was old.
“I think that’s amazing. How about Chrissy? Is she throwing yet?”
Ichabod chuckled. “Believe it or not, Mom, she is. I put her on the little practice wheel and sit with her. She’s not strong enough to do a lot of the things, but she’s getting it. She’s starting to get it.”
He believed that all the kids should be able to throw pots, and even Zane was super capable of forming pretty much any kind of vessel he wanted.
“Oh, good for her.” Mom nodded. “I love that.”
Ichabod fought, again, not to feel like a dick because he wanted her once to say good for him for being a good parent, but she followed the my-kids-were-one-thing-but-I-spoil-my-grandkids-to-death philosophy.