Chapter 10 #2
Sure, we had our own clan and tons of relatives we could interact with, but my girls had very little human social connections beyond Symphony.
And even that was an academic rivalry. Zara had been increasingly worried about our shrinking territories and the growing domination of human technology, so she believed raising our daughters in a suburb and exposing them to human culture would be a huge boon to them.
I couldn’t help but agree, but also, I felt like I was failing them in that respect.
A friendship with someone like Jeannie and Max, who really seemed to be a gem, was a huge gift I didn’t want to squander.
The fact that Max was trusting Addy with something as important as his mobility on a day when he was hurting could be a huge development in their relationship and even a way for the two of them to bond.
“As long as you are very careful and don’t let yourself get too distracted,” I said after a beat. “Remember that phrase I taught you? If you’re going to accept a responsibility...”
“... make sure it’s a responsibility you’re capable of keeping,” my daughter finished for me.
“Exactly.”
She strode forward, posting herself behind Max.
He gave her some instructions, showing her the brakes to his wheelchair, then a couple of hand signals he would do if he needed to stop or turn.
It was quite sweet to watch the easy, breezy way that Max explained things and the studious look on Addy’s face as she no doubt memorized every single word he said.
In fact, it was so sweet, I’d forgotten Eva was standing next to me, until Max turned his attention to her.
“Would you like to walk beside me, Eva?” he said, offering his hand. “Sometimes I get lonely always being in front of everyone and it’s hard to talk to people.”
From the way Eva sped over to him, you would have thought he was offering her an ice cream cone with all her favorites. The next thing I knew, their gloved hands were clasped.
I didn’t really know what was happening, but man, I was so incredibly happy to see it. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I was in a dream or a Hallmark Christmas movie.
“Don’t worry, Max. I’ll keep you company, and Addy will drive.”
“Why don’t the two of you take a practice lap from here to the base of the statue?” Jeannie asked. “The tour is gonna start in a few minutes, so if you end up not liking it, we can switch things up.”
“That is very logical thinking,” Addy said with a nod before pushing Max forward and doing exactly as his mother had suggested.
I could tell by the expression on Jeannie’s face that she understood exactly what a compliment that was.
Maybe this whole socializing thing was less complicated than I had thought, because somehow, everything with Jeannie and her son was just so easy.
Once the tour started, Jeannie and I ended up walking side-by-side while the children rolled just a bit ahead of us.
It was quite adorable to listen in on them, with Addy sort of directing things whenever she thought the tour guide was being too lax, Max reminding her to slow down and just enjoy the lights, and Eva saying which were her favorites.
“It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” Jeannie asked.
“Hmm?” I murmured, tearing my eyes away from the kids.
She gestured around us. “Just all of it. You can actually see the stars despite light pollution. Then there are the lights. Even the businesses that don’t have displays have special-colored bulbs in their windows.
And there’s the wreaths. The houses. And this morning just enough snow fell so everything is all crisp and white.
I don’t think we could have asked for a better setup. ”
“Would it be terribly gauche of me to say I hadn’t really thought about that?” I admitted.
“No, but why don’t you think about it now?”
There wasn’t a single ounce of reproach in her voice, so I did just that, starting by looking up at the deep inkwell of the night sky, depthless black upon depthless black with dots of silver-spun celestial light.
Then, the tall buildings that surrounded Main Street, looming like sentries against the endless expanse of outer space, some lit up with what had to be thousands of points of illumination in meticulously organized displays, and some with just the bulbs Jeannie had mentioned.
Red ribbons and evergreen garlands were wound around the lamp posts, with strings of white lights stretching out between them.
And finally, there were the faces all around us—the other people on tour, the people hurrying home, the owners of street carts. The world could often be such a dark, bitter place, but for the moment, I could see the shimmer of holiday felicity in the air.
“It is beautiful,” I said, even though beautiful seemed a woefully lacking descriptor.
“It is, isn’t it?” she asked, and I could have sworn I heard her voice hitch.
“I have to confess, about this time last year I was cursing these same people who were enjoying themselves. I’m not proud of it, but now I don’t understand how I could have ever seen this as anything other than something truly amazing. ”
“I take it Max was pretty sick then?”
“Very much so. He wasn’t at his worst, but he was close to it.” She blinked, then blushed vibrantly. “I’m sorry. That was probably a downer thing to say. I’ve been in my head a lot lately.”
“I don’t think I can judge anybody. I did, after all, blurt out that my wife had died literally a few minutes after you and I met.”
She laughed lightly. “You do kind of take the cake for that.”
“And what a record to have under my name.” I gave her a small smile. “But if you do want to share, I don’t mind. I understand that holidays are a big time for introspection. Especially if you’ve lost something... or thought you were going to lose something.”
She tilted her head back to look up at me, and there was something so incredibly vulnerable in her expression, but it felt almost sacred in a way. Like I was being trusted with something intensely important that most people weren’t.
“You are a very insightful man, Mr....” She trailed off, her eyes going wide. “I just realized that I don’t even know your last name, so I can’t even be flippant.”
“Heaven forbid we stop you from being that,” I teased. “And for the record, it’s LeBeau.”
“LeBeau? How very French!”
“Well, I am Creole, after all.”
“Is that where the accent comes from? Because you do sound a little bit like you’re from here, but you’ve got more of a twang to you.”
“Yeah, I’ve lived in this area my whole life, but my and my wife’s family are also all Creole, so we were raised with the dialect.
” I wasn’t ashamed of my slight accent, not at all.
I was proud of my family’s history—not just that we were shifters, but also that we came from all over the world to create the rich culture that we shared.
“Oh, so you have a big family?”
“Sure do. We’re spread all around the region in about a four-hour-drive radius.
So, it’s not like we’re each other’s backyard neighbors, but it’s not bad.
” As much as I didn’t mind sharing about my rather large clan, I’d had enough of talking about me.
Especially since Jeannie had been about to share something very special.
Perhaps I was just getting swept up in the rush of the holidays, but I had a feeling there was something so particularly special about the woman.
Maybe it was the way she looked at her son with utter adoration, maybe it was how she treated my daughters with respect, maybe it was how much fun I had talking to her.
Or maybe it was all three of those and a bunch of other reasons combined.
I liked to think of myself as a pretty good judge of character, and at the moment, my judgment was telling me that getting to know Jeannie would only be a good thing.
“But enough about that, I believe you mentioned that this time last year you weren’t exactly in the holiday spirit?”
“Trying to get me to monologue, huh?” she asked, and for a moment I thought that was her subtle way of shutting the conversation down, but she sighed and kept going.
“The type of cancer that Max had is one of the best ones you can get if you have to get cancer as a kid.” She made a scoffing sound.
“Which is a really weird thing to say, but it’s true.
It has a crazy high five-year survivability, and most kids respond within one round of chemo. ”
“Something about the way you said that tells me that Max didn’t.”
“Nope. He was diagnosed about three years ago and started treatment within a month. At first, it seemed like he was doing okay and the cancer cells were being eradicated, but… I don’t know what happened, but all his numbers tanked, and the cancer started to spread.”
I listened with rapt attention as she spoke, horrified but also filled with admiration.
It helped that I knew the story had a happy ending, since one of the first things I’d learned was that Max was in remission.
Not just in remission, but smiling happily with my daughters while they sang “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” loudly and off-key.
“He pretty much stopped eating, and we had to switch to TPN before they finally figured out his appendix was bothering him. They called the head of pediatrics in to do the surgery, but his flight was delayed, so Max’s appendix ended up rupturing.
The poison was in him for a little over two hours.
I had no idea such a tiny organ that we don’t even really use anymore could cause so much damage so rapidly.
They warned me to brace for the worst, and I tried to, I really did, but every day I prayed to just about anyone I could think of to give my son a second chance.
” This time I knew there was no way I was imagining the hitches in her words, but I didn’t point it out.
Even if I wasn’t the most socially adept person, I knew that much.