Chapter Six.
Janie
“He’s so miserable. This is Christmas; he should be happy,” I said to Tommy as I gazed at the man called Sunny.
“I know. He is like that character in the story Mam used to read to us,” Tommy replied.
“Mr Scrooge?” I asked.
“Yes. Do you remember she’d read it to us at Christmas?”
“Mam would read us a chapter a night,” I said with a smile.
“That was a scary story. But he is like Mr Scrooge.” Tommy smiled as memories hit him. Then, his face got sad. We both missed our Mam. Mam had gone away when we fell asleep, and she’d not been here when we woke up.
“Shall we talk to Poppy and Margaret? Maybe we could make him like Christmas again, like Mr Scrooge did,” I suggested.
My little brother’s face lit up with a big smile. “Yeah! He’ll love Christmas again! Let’s find Poppy!”
Ernest
Janie, Tommy, and several other children rushed over to where I stayed.
I smiled at my grandchildren. They’d not passed on, and it had broken my heart.
I’d stayed because they were my grandchildren.
Janie and Tommy had been my treasures. My daughter had been widowed in a mining accident before I died a few weeks later.
The children had died two years later. My daughter came three days after them, but while the children stayed, she hadn’t. I’d remained behind for them.
“Poppy!” Janie called, and I swooped down and caught her up.
“What, darling girl?” I asked.
“That man needs to learn a lesson, like in the book Mam used to read to us,” Tommy said. He pointed in the direction of the man called Sunny, who was cursing under his breath as he climbed to his feet.
“You think so?” I asked as an idea began to form.
“He makes the pretty lady sad,” Janie said.
“You think someone needs to learn the spirit of Christmas again?” I asked.
“Yes, Poppy, can you make it happen?” Janie asked, gazing at me like I’d hung the moon and stars.
For my grandchildren, I would make it happen.
◆◆◆
Sunny – the following night. The Ghost of Christmas Past.
Callie had benched me for the rest of the investigation.
Fine. I’d rattle around here. After breakfast, I headed upstairs to our room.
The talk downstairs had been full of their findings, of which there had been plenty.
It had then turned to their plans for tonight, from which I was excluded. They were investigating at the hotel.
Liv and Mom had sent me concerned looks, and Callie made it obvious that I was being cut out.
I lay down on our bed and closed my eyes. I cast my mind back and tried to understand what was causing me so much grief. Why had I turned into such a miserable bastard? Lost in my thoughts, I almost came out of my skin as a bang made me jump. I sat up and gaped.
“The investigation isn’t taking place in this room,” I said as I stared at the outline of a man.
“When the clock strikes midnight, you’ll be visited by the first of three ghosts. The Ghost of Christmas Past,” the ghost said.
“Heard this before, except the ghost should start visiting at one,” I replied and rolled my eyes.
The ghost smiled, said, “You’re in our town now, Sunny,” and faded away.
“Yeah, right, whatever,” I retorted and rolled over. I didn’t need any more bullshit.
◆◆◆
“Wake up, boy,” a woman demanded. I opened my eyes and saw a ghostly woman standing in front of me.
“What the hell? Who are you?” I snapped.
“The Ghost of Christmas Past. Call me, Margaret. Get up, we’ve got work to do, you miserable man-child,” she continued.
I sat up in bed and blinked at her. My tee hit me in the face.
“Get dressed,” she ordered.
I sent her a dark look, but got out of bed. The ghost watched unabashedly as I yanked on my jeans and tee.
“What now?” I growled out, not quite believing this was happening. I had to be trapped in a dream.
“Now, we look at your past,” she said and tapped me on my head.
“Mom, it’s Christmas!” a younger me yelled. I looked about three. In our small apartment, I ran down the stairs and gaped at the Christmas tree.
“I loved Christmas once,” I said, remembering the moment.
“Mom did so much. Primal was never around to celebrate. He was random with his child support payments, so Mom often had to struggle. Bullet came along when I was one, but Mom didn’t let him move in until I had turned four and she could trust him. ”
“Your father wasn’t present?” Margaret asked.
“No. It was a struggle until Mom married Bullet. While she was his old lady, they married when I was four. Primal left then, and Mom felt safe enough to let Bullet move in.”
The scene in front of me flashed forward, and I was five.
Bullet stood in front of a Christmas tree, which was crammed full of presents. He remained, legs splayed and arms open, as I rushed in. I jumped for joy, and Bullet laughed. Mom came in and gasped.
“Bullet, what’s all this?” she exclaimed.
“Happy Christmas, my love!” Bullet boomed.
“When did you do all this?” Mom drew a sharp breath.
“Only the best for my family,” Bullet replied and swept me up into his arms. “Come on, son, Santa came, let’s rip into this shit!”
I felt tears clog my throat. I could almost reach out and touch Bullet again.
The memory kept unfolding, and it stung, damn it, fuckin’ hurt.
Fuck, I knew I missed him, but I didn’t know how much until now.
He’d been a big man, a tall, muscled, hairy biker.
Bullet had been larger than life and my father.
“You loved him,” Margaret said, nodding at Bullet.
“Yes. He died too young,” I replied softly.
I stared at myself at fourteen. It was Christmas, but none like I’d had before. There were no decorations and a stupidly small Christmas tree. There were a few presents under it, but the cheery, happy atmosphere had disappeared. It was our first Christmas after Bullet’s death, and we were grieving.
“Sunny, open your presents,” Mom urged.
“Don’t feel like it,” I replied sulkily.
“Bullet loved Christmas. He claimed it was the one time he could spoil us without repercussions. Mom was a different person when Bullet was around. She was lit up inside.”
“And when he died, the light went away?” Margaret asked.
“No. It dimmed and stuttered, but it was there, just not as bright.”
“He loved you both very deeply,” Margaret said with such certainty in her voice that she made me glance at her.
“How would you know?”
“Because I can see it there,” she said as we watched my memory play out. It changed again.
“Holy shit, Sunny,” Mom exclaimed as I grinned.
“What do you think, Grandma?” I asked as I handed Liv to her. Liv wore a pretty Christmas dress with a bib saying, ‘Grandma loves me and I love her’.
“Olivia looks perfect!” Mom cried as she cuddled Liv to her chest.
Liv blinked at Mom and wrinkled her nose. Two seconds later, she made a soft mew and filled her diaper. Mom handed her over.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said dryly. Quickly, I changed Liv’s diaper before settling her back with Mom.
“I might have gone overboard,” Mom admitted as she sat in her armchair with Liv. I looked at the tree and smirked.
“No shit, Mom.” The tree was jammed packed, just like it used to be when I was a kid.
“Bullet would have adored her,” Mom said softly.
I glanced at the mantel above the fire. There was a large picture of Bullet, Mom, and me there. Mom was right; he would have done. Despite their best efforts, Mom and Bullet hadn’t had any more children. Bullet had taken me on as his son, and I’d been enough for him.
“Olivia would have made his day. A princess to spoil, Sunny. Bullet would have been in heaven,” Mom continued as a tear trickled down her face.
It didn’t matter how many years had gone by; once again, hate for Cutter surged, and I longed to rip his throat out. But the time had passed, and Chance and Bear had taken revenge for us.
“Let’s open some presents, Mom. It’s Liv’s first Christmas,” I said, and Mom blinked away her tears and smiled at me.
“That’s a sweet scene,” Margaret murmured.
“My daughter was my everything.”
“You say was.”
“Callie and the new baby are on a level with her now,” I replied to Margaret’s prying.
“Then why are you such a miserable bastard? If they mean so much, why can’t you celebrate with them?” Margaret challenged.
There was a flash, and I stared at Liv. She was about five in this memory.
“Daddy won’t be here for Christmas, will he, Gran?” she insisted.
“No, sweet pea, not this year.”
“Why is my daddy away, but others are home?” Liv demanded.
“Because your daddy is on tour, sweet pea. It means he’s abroad, and protecting us from baddies,” Cherry replied.
“I want Daddy home for Christmas! Kaitlin and Samantha’s father is!” Liv stamped her small foot.
“But they won’t get two Christmases,” Cherry said quickly. Liv cocked her head.
“What, Gran?” she asked.
“Well, see, Santa knows that your daddy is away for Christmas, that he’s protecting the world.
That makes Santa sad. So, what he does is he arrives twice.
He brings you some of your gifts on Christmas day and the rest on a second Christmas day that is going to happen when Daddy comes home,” Cherry said quickly.
With tears in my throat, I watched as Liv worked this through.
“Two Christmases?”
“Yes, sweet pea. And we have to decorate again as well,” Cherry said.
A beaming smile crossed Liv’s face. “Daddy will get presents then!”
“Is that what was worrying you?” Cherry asked.
“Yes, Daddy needs his presents from Santa, too. I don’t care if Santa doesn’t bring me any, but Daddy needs them because he works so hard.”
That comment hit me straight in the gut. Damn, my kid had been special. Time flashed and stopped.
I stared at myself coming home.
I carried my kit bag and opened the front door of my house on the army base.
“What the hell?” I murmured as I glanced at the Christmas decorations.
“Happy Christmas, Daddy!” Liv screeched as she rushed towards me. Mom followed on her heels.
“Happy Christmas, baby girl!” I cried as I lifted Liv and crushed her in my arms. I sent Mom a quizzical look.