Chapter 8#2
“Merry Christmas to you, too,” Scout replies. “So, what’s the plan here?”
“Well, first I’m going to get the breakfast casserole and cinnamon-roll French toast in the oven,” I say. “After that, I’ll start the tomato sauce.”
“You think anyone’ll still want breakfast?” she asks doubtfully. “It’s kinda late.”
“I have no idea,” I tell her. What I do know is that I want breakfast, and I’m pretty sure she does, as well. “If they don’t, they don’t. I’m pretty sure they’ll want to eat something between now and dinner. And appetizers aren’t that filling, so…”
“All true,” Scout replies. “All right well, I guess I’ll prep the roast for the oven and then start chopping veggies.”
“Team,” I say in acknowledgment, holding out my fist.
“Team,” she replies, bumping her fist against mine. Then, “Whoa, hold on a minute, you. Not so fast,” she admonishes as I start to turn away. “Look up,” she says, pointing toward the ceiling, far overhead.
Glancing upward, I see a sprig of mistletoe suspended from the ceiling. How it got there, I don’t know. What’s holding it in place is another mystery. “Where the hell did that come from?” I ask her. “Did you put that there?”
Scout shakes her head. “Nope. Don’t know, don’t care.”
“But…”
“Shut up,” Scout says as she grabs me by the shirtfront and pulls me close. “And kiss me.”
And I do.
The rest of the day unfolds without any more surprises—assuming that that fact doesn’t count as a surprise in and of itself, which I guess it does.
Everyone enjoys the company, the food and the wine. No one’s unhappy with the presents they receive. Even the presence of Scout’s annoying stepbrother can’t disturb my sense of peace and well-being; my sense of being exactly where I want to be, where I’m supposed to be, surrounded by all the people that I love the most. Or a good portion of them, anyway.
And then, as the day is winding down, as we’re sitting around the living room after dinner, nibbling on gingerbread, sipping on cordials, “filling the corners,” as my mother would say; after most of the families have taken their leave, and it’s down to just the core group of us—my cousin’s family and my own; Kate’s phone chimes with an incoming text.
“Yes!” she squeals, sitting up excitedly.
She shows her phone to Mandy, who nods and says, “Well, it’s about time.”
“What’s going on now?” Lucy demands as Mandy gets to her feet and leaves the room.
“Last minute gift,” Kate tells her. “It was supposed to have been here earlier but someone—” she nods at the door Mandy has just disappeared through. “Told me something that almost made me take it back.”
“Still not my fault,” Mandy calls back loudly, sounding just like her mom.
“Who’s it for?” I ask, listening to the soft chatter of voices floating in from the entryway.
“It’s for you, Dad,” Kate explains. “You and Scout; because I figure you’re the ones who need it the most. And it’s for Cole too, because he’s old enough now to appreciate it. And it’s for me as well, even though I’m probably going away in the Fall, so…”
“I thought we weren’t talking about that today,” Mandy says gloomily, returning to the room with Seth and Deirdre who, as I understood it, were supposedly at spending the holiday with her family, several hours away.
“We’re not,” Kate tells Mandy. “Just stop fussing, all right? It’ll all work out.”
“Says you,” Mandy grumbles.
I shift my gaze to the newcomers. Seth enters the room carrying a large, white box topped with a big, red bow. He’s young and fairly strong, but he seems to be struggling a little. Either whatever he’s carrying is unusually heavy, or the contents of the box keep shifting. “Hey, are you okay? D’you need help with that?” I ask.
He shakes his head no. “Nah, I’m fine,” he replies—also sounding eerily like his mother. “It’s all good.” He carries the box into the center of the room then takes a knee and carefully lowers it to the floor.
With one hand pressed to the top of the box, he turns to look at the fireplace then at Kate. “I think this’ll be okay. It’s not too close.”
Kate nods in response, then turns back to us. “So. Like I was saying, I might be going away for school, but even if I do, I’ll always be back—at holidays, or whenever—and this will still be my home.”
“That’s right,” Scout says, gulping audibly. I reach out to squeeze her hand as I smile at Kate and say, “Always.”
Kate nods back at us both. “So, while I was trying to decide what to get you, it occurred to me that there’s something that every home needs, and ours was missing one.”
While all this is going on, Cole, seated on the couch between Scout and me, is bouncing excitedly chanting, “Uppie! Uppie! Uppie!”
“You are up, bud,” I tell him, frowning in confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t think that’s what he’s saying,” Scout says, sounding equally confused. “What is it you want Cole?”
“I think he wants to come over here and open his present,” Kate says. “Is that it, Cole?”
“Yes!” Cole replies as he slips off the couch and runs over to stand beside Seth.
Kate glances at Scout and me and adds, “Don’t you want to see, too?”
“Of course, we do” I tell her. I look at Seth and point toward the coffee table, and ask, “Wouldn’t it be easier if you put it on the table?”
Seth shakes his head. “Honestly? I think it’s better if we do it this way.”
“C’mon,” Scout says, nudging me; “Let’s go see.”
So we get to our feet. Scout circles one way around the table and slips to her knees next to Cole. I circle the other way and come around to stand behind them. After which, three things happen at once.
Cole, still chanting, reaches for the box; Seth lifts his hand away—maybe to stop Cole, maybe not; the cover of the box goes flying off—seemingly by itself. And then a little black dog with floppy ears, whose bright brown eyes are barely visible beneath the white brim of the Santa hat she’s wearing, sticks her head up and looks around.
“Puppy!” Cole shouts, which, I now realize is what he’s been saying—or trying to say—all along, and lunges for the box.
“Hold up,” Seth says, holding him back. “She’s a little too heavy for you to lift by yourself. Better let your mom handle it.”
“Always good advice,” Lucy murmurs quietly, earning her a quick glance from her son, who nods and grins and doesn’t disagree.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Scout croons, as she folds the dog into her arms. Her eyes are bright as her gaze meets mine. “Isn’t she?”
“Yes,” I agree, as I come to a crouch behind my wife and slowly reach out a hand for our new dog to sniff. “She certainly is.”
“I can’t believe you made it all the way back down here so quickly,” Kate says to Deirdre. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course,” Deirdre says giving her a quick hug. “Anything for family.”
“I can’t believe you got her to keep that hat on,” Mandy tells her brother.
“That’s because he’s the best,” Deirdre says proudly. She turns her smile on Seth and murmurs, “Dog Whisperer.”
“Oh, puppy, puppy, puppy,” Cole, half draped over his mother—and the dog—continues to sing a happy tune.
“So, what’re you going to call her?” Lucy asks.
“Actually, she already has a name,” Seth says. “I mean, they can change it if they want, but...”
“It’s Luna,” Kate says. “Her name is Luna. And if you look at the markings on her chest, you’ll see why.”
Catching Scout’s eye, I nod. “C’mere a minute, bud,” I tell Cole as I lift him away from her. “Let’s give your mom some space.”
Scout shoots me a smile, then lifts the dog—Luna—turning her so that we all can see.
She’s a mostly black dog, lap-sized now, though judging by the size of her paws, she’ll probably grow bigger. But stretched across her chest is a large white patch that, even to my untutored eyes bears an uncanny resemblance to the Triple Goddess Moon Symbol.
“Wow. That’s really something,” I say.
“I know.” Kate replies happily. “She’s amazing, isn’t she?”
“It’s better than that,” Scout sighs. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.”
I nod in agreement. “Perfect present, perfect Christmas.” I glance over at my daughter and nod. “Perfect daughter. Thanks.”
“De nada,” she replies looking pleased with herself—as she should.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a few of the cats hurrying in to crouch in the doorway, checking out the new arrival with raised noses and suspicious eyes. A couple, braver than the rest, venture all the way into the room, tails held high, expressions running the gamut from fascination to disgust.
So, okay. Maybe it’s not the perfect Christmas gift for all of us. But it’s early days; it still could be. It’s okay, guys , I think at the cats. It’s nothing to worry about, just a little change. You’ll get used to it.
“I guess maybe now our family really is complete,” I tell Scout, mostly joking. I think.
“Maybe it is,” she teases in return. “But nothing’s off the table yet.”
A few minutes later, Luna, tired out from the excitement—or the attention, or all of the traveling back and forth, falls asleep and is gently transferred back into her box for a nap. Scout and I, finally recalling our duties as hosts, ask if anyone would like something more to eat or drink. And apparently, everyone does. So, we all remove to the dining room (leaving the puppy asleep in the living room, under the watchful eyes of the cats) and drag the leftovers back out, along with what’s left of the gingerbread house.
Everyone’s in good spirits as we sit down to eat. We’re passing bowls and dishes back and forth. Seth and Deirdre are telling us all about their day—most of which was spent in transit, rushing up to Berkeley to spend time with Deirdre’s family, and then back again with Luna, after Kate called them to say that she’d changed her mind again and could they please, pleases, please bring Luna back to Oberon with them?
It seems she’d started having second thoughts when she’d heard about our supposed baby. She was concerned that we wouldn’t be up to the challenge of dealing with a new baby and a new dog at the same time.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I tell her. “Did it somehow slip your mind that we had a dog and an entire clowder of cats when your brother was born?”
“No, but a puppy is different,” Kate argues. “They’re more work than a grown dog.”
“No lies detected,” Seth agrees. “Although, in Luna’s case, most of the hard part’s already been done for you. She’s already housebroken and will respond to basic commands, so…”
I’m about to ask if there’s anything else I should know about, but it’s at this point that Mandy lets out a shrill of excitement, and all eyes turn in her direction just as she says, “Are you kidding me? You’re engaged?”
Deirdre, who seems to have frozen in place just as she was reaching across Mandy with the breadbasket, grimaces in Seth’s direction. “Oops?”
“Yeah, not exactly how we’d planned on announcing that,” he grouses, scowling at his sister.
But the secret’s out now, and the next few minutes are an endless round of hugs and kisses and congratulations, punctuated by the popping of corks and the pouring of Prosecco into flutes hastily retrieved from the glass cabinet.
And then Lucy gets a good look at her future daughter-in-law’s new ring and turns to gaze accusingly at her own mother. “Mom? Isn’t this your ring?”
“Well, it was,” Aunt Rose confirms. “But your father and I discussed it with Seth, and decided it was time someone else got to wear it.”
“Hold on,” Mandy says, gaze ping-ponging between her grandparents and her brother. “You all knew about this, but you kept it a secret from Mom ?”
“Yes, thank you,” Lucy said. “That’s just exactly what I was thinking.”
Mandy shakes her head. “No, I mean how did you do that? And she didn’t catch on?”
“Dan,” Lucy wails in mock dismay. “D’you see how mean they’re being to me?”
“I see ’em, babe,” he tells her. “But don’t you worry; you still have me.”
“Mm, very true,” she answers. “And thank God for that.” And then they’re kissing again—without benefit of mistletoe—because when have they ever needed that?
“It’s actually very easy to keep a secret, Mandy,” my Aunt Rose says; “The trick is not to tell anyone.”
“Ha! That’s you told,” Seth says with a laugh as Mandy folds her arms across her chest and mutters crossly about being dissed by her own grandma.
I glance at Scout and our gazes meet over Cole’s drowsy head. “He okay?” I ask.
Scout nods. “Yes, just tired. I think I’m going to put him to bed now. It’s getting late.”
“Need any help?” I ask hopefully.
Scout smiles and shakes her head. “Thanks, but…well, someone’s got to stay and make sure that no fights break out, don’t you think?”
She’s joking but, on the other hand…maybe she’s not. There is precedent, after all. “I guess we’re thinking that the someone who gets to stay and play referee is me?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Well, okay. If you’re sure?”
“Yep. I’m good.”
You certainly are , I think as I watch her go.
Finally, it’s time to call it a night. Everyone else has taken their very protracted leave. Kate stays to help me through most of the cleanup, and then she too disappears, heading upstairs for the night.
I wake Luna up, give her a little food and some water—using Sara’s bowls, because that feels like the right thing to do—then watch as she gulps it all down.
“You’ve got some big paw-prints to fill,” I tell her. She gazes up at me flashing her best doggie smile, and wagging her tail. But it’s obvious that she has absolutely no idea what I’m saying. Which is no more than I expected.
I open the back door and let her outside, so she can do her business. And while I’m standing on the patio, watching Luna nose around, inspecting the grass, I sense someone beside me. I glance to the side and just about jump out of my skin.
“Jeez! How did you get in here,“ I demand. A stupid question, but I’m caught off-guard.
“You don’t really expect me to answer that, do you?” The angelic, flower-selling, hopefully not a phrogger, lumberjack wannabe inquires and, no. I don’t suppose I do.
“Why are you here?” I ask instead. He’s ditched the hat and vest in favor of a worn-in leather motorcycle jacket that he’s wearing over a t-shirt and jeans.
“That’s a better question,” he replies. “And there’s no reason to be upset. I just wanted to be sure our girl made it home all right.”
“ Our girl? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Chill, dude. It’s a figure of speech—I know you’ve heard of those. But hey, speaking of which, you ever watch that movie The Bishop’s Wife ? Cary Grant, Loretta Young, David Niven? No? Ah, well. It doesn’t matter. Good film, though.”
“And here I thought you’d be more the Wizard of Oz type,” I observe.
The angel shakes his head. “Nah, that was all you. Not a bad choice, however. Very Christmasy.”
“Christmasy how?” I ask, because damned if I can see a connection.
“Are you kidding me? No place like home, yellow brick road?”
“Still not seeing the connection,” I say.
“Oh, please. It’s obvious. Because all roads will lead you home?—”
“—At Christmastime,” I finish for him. “So I’ve heard. D’you think that’s really true?”
“Mostly,” he says, adding, “Of course, for most people, those roads don’t end up being quite as long as Scout’s was. Still, all’s well that ends well—right?”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I tell him. “She was pretty upset when she got back here the other day. Was that really necessary?”
“Sometimes it’s not a question of necessity.” The angel rocks on his feet, his hands shoved deeply in the front pockets of his jeans. “Sometimes, it just…happens that way. And, trust me, I’ve been there, too.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“Look it’s not always fun, but sometimes… Well, it is what it is. You know? Let’s just leave it at that.”
I nod in agreement, and we share a long moment of silent communication until Luna comes bounding up the stairs to join us.
“Right. Well. It’s time for me to go,” the angel says, bending to stroke the dog’s head. “I’ll be seeing you, Nick.”
“What? Why?” I ask, but he’s already gone.
It takes me less than a minute to decide that that was probably just another figure of speech. And not a threat of future visitations.
Luna accompanies me on my nightly rounds, as I assure myself that the house is once again secure. Upstairs, Cole has kicked his covers off yet again, so I tuck him back in and pause for a moment to marvel at the sight of him. His nightlight projects an image of stars that circle around the room, moving over the walls and across the ceiling, changing color as they go.
I pause for a moment outside Kate’s door, too. It sounds like she and Mandy are on a video call. Discussing wedding plans with Deirdre, from the sound of it. Which, given that she and Seth had earlier sworn up and down they weren’t even going to start thinking about anything like that until after she’d graduated, seems a little sus—as the kids would say. But, like I’ve said before, it’s not my circus, even if they are my monkeys, so I continue down the hall.
In our bedroom, I find my wife already asleep. But, before passing out, she’d obviously dragged Sara’s old bed out of the closet, and set it up in its usual place beside out bed. Luna goes to it immediately, curls up on its fleecy surface and heaves a long, happy sigh.
I turn off the lights, climb into bed, pull my wife close, and breathe out my own sigh of blissful relief—because, for as long as I am still breathing, I’m pretty sure this will always be the closest thing to heaven that I’ll ever experience.
And then, as the longest and craziest Christmas that I personally can remember drifts gently down to the softest of landings—like a feather dropped from an angel’s wing—a single thought floats through my mind.
Merry Christmas to all, I think to myself; and to all a goodnight.