Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“It’s almost sunset, when’s Grandpa coming back?” Millie leaned over the back of the chair by the window, gazing out at the sun beginning to disappear behind the trees.
They’d moved into the living room after drinks were finished and mugs rinsed out for later. Leo hadn’t exactly missed his father’s presence, but knew a child’s focus would be on gifts, and those would wait for whenever Glen deemed appropriate to rejoin them.
“I called him earlier. No answer.” Dean’s scowl matched Leo’s feelings on the matter.
Gayle stood, brushing at her pants. “I’ll call him. That man knows better.” She had on her mom face that made all three children cower and Leo felt a smidgen of enjoyment over that look being directed at his father.
“He better have a good excuse. It’s not often we are all together like this,” Jodie said.
Dean leaned over the couch where she sat. “What do you call the once-a-month dinner Mom insists we all attend?”
Jodie locked eyes with Leo and he knew he wouldn’t like her answer. “Andie isn’t there.”
“Leave Andie out of this.” Leo didn’t want Andie to be put on the spot any more than she already had been. She reached over and squeezed his leg, giving him all the thanks he needed.
“Welp, that man is in the doghouse, but I’ll let him figure that out tomorrow.” Gayle returned to the group, putting her phone in her back pocket. “That said, he is on his way back, and apparently has big things to share, which I doubt means he’s gathered more Chanukah gifts.” She sent Millie a wink. “But it is getting late. Leo, come join me, I need a set of strong hands.”
“I’m strong,” Dean piped up, flexing a bicep.
Gayle patted the bicep. “I know you are, dear. This moment is for your brother.”
Leo rose but before going anywhere he checked on Andie. She gave him a smile and a head nod in his mother’s direction. Yeah, she’d be fine with his family.
He followed his mother downstairs to her work area/storage room. If someone needed something and Gayle had it, here is where it would be found. On her workbench were set up the special family menorahs she’d made for all the family members, a tradition she started when Jodie was born. The concept was simple, a row of nine wooden blocks, with a second layer in the middle for the raised shamash. Sometimes, the wood had two tones, or it was stained or painted. All of them had a woodworked etching of their names on it.
They still used traditional menorahs, old and filled with history and ritual over more years than any of them had been alive. These had been a special treat for the kids to participate, and that habit hadn’t stopped when they grew up.
A cog clicked in Leo’s brain and he did a quick inventory of the chanukiahs, counting eight when there should only be seven. He took a step closer, studying the one sitting on Gayle’s work mat, shiny from recently dried varnish, with Andie’s name in the center.
“Mom,” Leo groaned. How would he ever explain to them that Andie had a job offer far away and he’d known about it all along? “Do you even sleep?”
“What? I’m supposed to bring out all of these and leave the poor girl out? Besides, you know it doesn’t take that long to add a name and some varnish.”
Because his mother, ever the overachiever, had extras made and waiting for a special name to claim them. “You already got her a mug.”
“And it means nothing that she’s here right now?”
“She’s here right now because Millie plots more than you do.”
Gayle laughed, pure joy on her face. “Oh yes, that child does.”
“I don’t want anyone making more out of this than they should, treat it the same as one of Dean’s dates.”
Gayle studied her middle child. “My dear son, if Dean had looked at any of his dates the way you look at Andie, I’d be down here including them, too.”
He couldn’t hold his mother’s gaze. Somehow, he felt as though he’d been lying to them. This short interlude with Andie didn’t call for big family gatherings, no matter what his feelings were. They were a Chanukah item and he needed more time to see if he could turn it into something bigger, something that matched what he felt and how easily she meshed in with his family.
Things had somehow turned complicated, so much so. He hadn’t anticipated it. On the surface it all seemed so simple: bring Andie over for Chanukah. Give her a fun celebration, with some embarrassment for him, and continue their enjoyment of the holiday together. He hadn’t truly fathomed what it would be like to bring a date home, hadn’t anticipated the ongoing issues with his father boiling to the surface as he should have. It threw a wrench in his feelings. One area over-sanded and raw to the touch, another over-varnished and shining without the addition of light.
His mother’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality. “She looks at you the same way. I know whatever you two have is new, and new can be fragile. But I’ve heard so much about her, from you and Jodie and Millie. I had a feeling before now, but if I had any concerns, I could have kept the mug and this menorah out of sight, my little secret. She matches you, fits in with you. And I hope you both take the time to figure it out.”
He swallowed, but that sandpaper had traveled to his throat. He wanted to confide in his mother like he hadn’t done since he’d been a kid. He wanted to lay it all out on this very table where things were created or fixed. He wanted his mother’s advice.
“She’s—” moving, temporary, barely gave me this second chance “—special.”
Gayle picked up the new menorah and handed it to Leo. “Careful, this is still a bit sticky. And yes, yes she is.”
“You teach little kids, right?” Millie plopped down on the couch next to Andie, making the cushions jump.
“Yes, I do. Three- and four-year-olds.”
Millie stopped bouncing. “That’s babies.”
Amusement bubbled up. “Some see them that way.”
Millie tilted her head to the side. “What do you see them as?”
“Young scholars eager to learn about their world.”
“They don’t even know their ABCs.”
“How do you think they learn them?” Sure, they had bathroom issues and more germs than the older kids, but she loved the preschool age. Her job let her give children a foundation that would carry them through their lives. Or, at the very least, she hoped they left her class with a love of learning.
“Good point. Mom says I was born reading, but I think she just likes to say I’m smart.” Millie sat up straight, clearly proud of her intelligence.
“I’ve known early readers like yourself, and late readers, and you know what’s amazing?” Andie paused, waiting for Millie to lean in. “They both can end up at the same advanced reader state.”
“Huh.” Millie glanced around, tongue peeking out of the side of her mouth in thought. “I guess that’s right. So when mom complains that Uncle Dean wasn’t a very strong reader, that doesn’t mean he can’t read me books, he just doesn’t want to.”
“Hey, I heard that!” Dean walked over and squatted before them. “And I’ve read to you plenty.”
“You won’t read Wings of Fire to me.”
“I told you, pick something that I like and then we’ll talk.”
Millie crossed her arms. “You can’t read it.” She faced Andie. “Andie, can you help him?”
Andie couldn’t hold in the laughter, but at least she kept on a level of two out of ten. She’d never had a conversation quite like this, certainly not one that made her smile and laugh and feel warm about her career at a family gathering. “I think he’s a bit too old for my specialties.”
“Ha ha, she’s calling you old.”
“You, too.”
Millie slumped.
The basement door opened and Millie popped out of her seat. “Are we lighting the candles? It’s dark out there!”
Gayle placed two hands on her granddaughter’s shoulders. “I’m told Grandpa will be here momentarily.”
“He better be,” Millie mumbled, stomping away.
Leo stood behind Gayle, an expression on his face she couldn’t quite make out. He nodded toward the dining room and Andie got up, following him.
“We have a tradition here,” he said softly, and Andie realized he held something behind his back. “We each have our own menorahs. Not to light, that would be a fire hazard, but as kids we would set candles in them with fake flames.”
Tradition. Family. Love. It really was all here. “That’s sweet. Don’t worry about me, I’m not here to interfere, just being present means a lot.”
“That’s not why I wanted a word with you.”
The dim lighting couldn’t diminish the spark in his eyes, the squareness of his jaw. She wanted to kiss him, savor him, even with his family in the next room. “Oh?” She stepped forward, the heat in his eyes swelling. “It’s not?” A lift onto her toes and her lips grazed the side of his jaw.
Leo groaned. “You make me forget my own name.” He met her lips for a hot moment. “But that is not why I wanted you here either.”
“Oh.” She took a step back, allowing air to cycle between them.
Leo revealed the item in his hands. “Mom made each and every one of our menorahs. And now she’s made you one.”
Andie collected the wooden menorah. The blocks were shiny and smooth and expertly put together. On the front, a woodworked swirl of her name. She brushed her finger against the etching. “I guess you get your love of antiques from your father’s side, but an additional love of woodworking from your mother.”
“Yeah. I was doomed.”
The item in her hands contained a heavy emotional weight. It came with history and tradition, more so than by simply being an item for an ancient holiday. Beyond the mug, this said she was welcomed here, and not for a day. It claimed she’d be back.
She pushed the menorah into Leo’s arms. “This is too much.” She searched his face, curious how he felt about all this. “I’m new and only here because Millie said something.”
Leo took one of Andie’s hands and pressed the menorah into it. “My mother has gone a bit overboard, sure, but I did talk about you, probably too much.” A soft, gullible laugh escaped. He didn’t hide his gaze, he kept it open and let her see that this wasn’t a simple Chanukah affair for him. He wanted more. Like she did.
Andie took the menorah. “They stay here, right?”
He nodded. “Yes. And, should it be necessary, my mom could change that to a different name.”
Laughter overtook her, breaking the tension. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”
He brushed back a lock of her hair. “Because I like the thought that in a few minutes, a menorah with your name on it will be next to mine.”
Belonging, she’d never experienced a belonging like this from more than her father. It brought on a world of complicated intensity, something she’d worry about later. “I’m glad Millie invited me here.”
Now Leo laughed, letting the heavy mood dissipate. “Can always count on her to create trouble. Though she usually knows what the good kind of trouble is.”
“So I’m the good kind of trouble?”
“The best.”
He leaned in and she parted her lips in anticipation, when a door slammed off in the distance. “I’m back!”
Leo’s shoulders lost their loose, relaxed state. “Speaking of trouble—that’s not the good kind.” He took her hand. “Come on.” He tried to pull her but she dug in her heels.
“Wait.” She cupped his face, staring into him. “I know things are uncomfortable. But it’s still Chanukah and you have a wonderful and loving family. Don’t let one bad egg ruin it.”
Leo placed his forehead against Andie’s. “You’re right. I think I needed that reminder.” He kissed her, sweet and sure, and Andie hoped she gave him some strength with her lips.
When they pulled apart, Leo’s shoulders were relaxed again. “Now you’re ready. Time to join your family.”