A Nantucket Christmas (9 page)

In the early afternoon, Maddox and Kennedy took naps while the others lounged in bed or the den, reading and watching television. Kennedy was still sleeping when Maddox woke, so Nicole, who was in the kitchen, gave him permission to go in the backyard and build a snowman.

“I’m making pumpkin lasagna for tonight,” she told the boy. “Just as soon as I put it in the oven, I’ll come out and join you.”

She helped him don his outdoor gear and watched as the child ran joyfully out into the snowy late afternoon. She sprinkled fresh Parmesan on the lasagna and slid it into the oven. As she rinsed and checked the fresh cranberries she would make for the duck sauce that evening, Sebastian came into the kitchen.

“Something smells appetizing.”

“Good.” Rinsing her hands, Nicole murmured, “I wish we had two ovens. I have to sort of stagger what I’m cooking with only one.”

Sebastian snorted. “Sorry, Nicole. Cooking was never one of Katya’s passions. One oven was more than enough for her.”

Nicole bit her lip. She didn’t enjoy hearing the words Katya and passion come out of her husband’s mouth.

As if he’d guessed her thoughts, Sebastian drew Nicole into his arms. “I hope you realize how grateful I am for all you’re doing. Not just the decorating and the cooking, but making the house feel so warm. You’ve got a gift for perking up people, Nicole.”

For half a second, Nicole considered pointing out that she certainly didn’t please Kennedy. But that would have been churlish, especially with her husband’s arms around her. “I hope I perk you up, Sebastian.”

“Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you,” Sebastian murmured into her neck.

Nicole drew away in pretend horror. “In the daytime? With your family here?” Secretly, she was tickled.

James chose that moment to come into the kitchen from the birthing room. “Time for a drink yet?” he asked. “Kennedy’s sound asleep.”

“Maddox is out trying to build a snowman,” Nicole told him. “I promised I’d go help him, but I got delayed with cooking and um, everything.”

James looked out the window. “Is Mad in the backyard or the front?”

“The backyard, of course.” Nicole checked her watch. With a playful glance at Sebastian, she said, “Dinner’s ready in about an hour.”

“I’ll play with him until then.” James went out the door.

“Alone at last,” Nicole’s husband said, pulling her close once more.

Maddox stood in the backyard with his tongue protruding, trying to catch the flakes of snow that the wind flung into his eyes and up his nose. When his tongue got cold, he decided to go into his fort.

Snow had settled on top of his hideaway. On one side, snow drifted up into a wall. Maddox dropped to his knees and crawled between the lawn chairs into the warm security of his cave.

It was dark inside. He blinked, thinking about this, trying to understand. Back in the real world, the sun had almost set, but some pale rays still illuminated the sky and the brightness of the snow reflected back the shine. In here—with cardboard walls secured by duct tape wrappings and a ceiling of picnic table wood—no snow entered, and not much light.

After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. It was nice and warm compared to the chill outside. Maddox crawled farther in and closed the cardboard flap that served as a door. Now it was supercozy.

Except …

Something was in the corner. Something as big as Maddox. Something dark, at least it looked dark, and as Maddox watched, it moved.

Too paralyzed with terror even to squeak, Maddox stared at the lump. A wolf? No, wolves were bigger. A rat? No, rats were smaller. A rabbit? That would be okay, but it wasn’t rabbit shaped.

An eye gleamed through the darkness.

Maddox didn’t know what to do. Should he pretend to be something not alive, a big rock, for example? Should he try to be friendly? How fast could he exit the cave before whatever it was leapt at him, catching him by his shoe?

The creature stirred. Two eyes shone. It appeared to be in no hurry to eat Maddox. He knew it wasn’t a lion or a bear; Daddy said those didn’t exist on the island. Perhaps it was a baby deer? But the thing shuffled into a standing position, and its legs were not nearly long enough to be a deer’s. Was it a cat?

“Hello?” Maddox whispered. “Kitty kitty?”

Encouraged by his voice, the animal slowly, cautiously, moved toward Maddox, stumbling slightly on the uneven cushions, until Maddox could see that the creature was a furry brown dog with black button eyes like his toy animals and a pink tongue peeking between small white teeth.

“Hi, guy.” Maddox held out his hand the way his mommy had taught him, so the dog could sniff him, so the dog wouldn’t feel threatened.

The dog sniffed Maddox. Its dark eyes raised expectantly to meet Maddox’s eyes, and its tail wagged hopefully.

“Who are you?” Maddox asked. “Are you lost?”

The dog dropped to its belly and crept closer to Maddox, still wagging its tail. Maddox reached out and patted the dog’s head. The dog responded by scooting even nearer, keeping his yearning black eyes on Maddox’s face.

“You’re a nice doggy, aren’t you?” Maddox said. “What’s your name? Where’s your collar?” He felt around the dog’s neck but no leather or metal met his fingers.

The dog, encouraged by the touching, moved closer to Maddox and licked his fingers.

A wonderful thought suddenly appeared in Maddox’s mind. Could Santa have brought him this dog for Christmas?

But Christmas wasn’t for two more days. And his mom didn’t want a dog.

Running his fingers over the animal, he felt its ribs. Even as a small boy, he understood that the dog hadn’t had much to eat recently. This dog was lost. And hungry. Maybe this dog was hiding from a mean owner. Maddox had once seen a man kick a dog. Maybe this dog had run away. Maddox knew what it felt like to want to run away.

“Maddox!” His father’s voice boomed out into the yard, making Maddox jump with surprise.

“Just a minute, boy,” Maddox whispered. He crawled out the lawn chair entrance, stuck his head up, and called, “I’m here, Daddy, in my fort.”

“Let’s build a snowman. We’ve got time before dinner.”

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll be right there.”

Back in the fort, the dog sat very obediently, his eyes searching Maddox’s face.

“You’re hungry,” Maddox whispered, “but I can’t bring you into the house because Mommy wouldn’t like that. I’ll sneak food out after dinner, I promise. Lots of good food, okay?”

The dog wagged his tail.

Delight flashed through Maddox as he realized he had a secret friend, his own private buddy. He could have adventures with this dog!

The dog needed a name. Maddox thought of famous best friends. Frog and Toad. Well, he couldn’t call a dog Frog or Toad, that would be silly. He giggled to himself and the dog caught his mood, wiggling all over and climbing into Maddox’s arms, licking his chin, wagging his tail. Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh! Maddox fell over backward, snickering.

“Pooh!” he gurgled as the dog licked his face. “I’ll name you Pooh.” Pooh was one of Maddox’s favorite words because it had two meanings, one that could make his grandmother Katya raise her eyebrows. He hugged Pooh, who was cuddling as close as he could get.

“Maddox?” His father’s voice sounded again.

“Coming!” Maddox answered. He sat up and put his hands on the dog’s face. “Now listen. I have to go in. You stay here. I’ll bring you some food as soon as I can, okay? You’ll be nice and warm here. I’ll be back pretty soon.”

Pooh cocked his head, his dark eyes deep with intelligence, as if he understood every word.

Daddy decided they should build the snowman in the front yard so people could see him. He showed Maddox how to squeeze the snow tight to pack it. Together they rolled up three balls, stacking them up before adding fallen sticks for arms. Daddy opened the front door, calling in to ask Nicole for a carrot for the nose while Maddox looked beneath the bushes until he found two rocks for the eyes. The rocks were different sizes, so the snowman looked kind of funny but still cute.

When they stepped inside, the house seemed hot and bright. As his father helped him strip off his snow boots, mittens, coat, and hat, Maddox realized how dark it looked outside if you were inside a building, even though a pearly sheen of light lingered in the air from streetlights and moonlight falling on the snow.

“Let’s wash your hands and face,” Daddy said, taking Maddox’s hand and leading him to the bathroom.

Mommy was up, sitting in the living room talking to Granddad. Nicole was trotting back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room. Maddox loved washing his hands and playing with the water. He could make lines of water run one way or the other and splash pools in the sink.

“Enough,” his father said. “You’re getting your sweater wet. Come on, Maddox.”

Reluctantly, Maddox slowly turned off the faucets and dried his hands. Here came the boring part of his day, sitting at the dining room table with adults. They took so long to eat their food! He could gobble his down and be ready to play in a jiffy, but his parents wanted him to sit there like a statue, not rocking back and forth on his chair or tapping his fingers on the table or swinging his feet or even making fart noises with his mouth. This was one of the many things he couldn’t understand about adults.

The food smelled good, though. His mommy insisted he eat some of the yucky lettuce salad, and he forced himself to swallow a few bites of the cranberry sauce, but the dark meat on his plate that his mommy said was duck made him cringe. Maddox preferred meat in tiny ground pieces, not hunks. Fortunately, the pumpkin lasagna had lots of creamy cheese, so he had two helpings of it, and all the adults praised him.

He had an awesome thought. Pooh would like the duck! He had to think of a way to smuggle it to the dog. He considered various options while the adults blabbed away, their cheeks growing rosy as they ate the warm food and drank their wine. The table was pretty with glowing candles making the silver shine. It was nice, seeing his parents having a good time with Granddad and Nicole. When Granddad got up to pour Daddy more wine, he blocked Maddox from his mother’s vision for a few seconds, just enough time for Maddox to sneak a chunk of duck into his trouser pocket. Then he got the cool idea of putting the meat in his mouth, pretending to chew, then wiping his mouth with his napkin and spitting the meat into the napkin. Pretty soon he had a nice glob of meat to take to Pooh.

Maddox was proud. This must be how it felt to be a superhero.

After dinner, everyone but Kennedy helped Nicole carry the plates, glasses, and platters into the kitchen. Even Maddox willingly skipped back and forth with his utensils and napkin. Kennedy sat at the table, grounded like a blimp, listening to all the others chatter as they loaded the dishwasher and put away leftovers. How peppy they sounded. She put her elbows on the table and dropped her head in her hands.

She heard James yell, “Maddox, where are you going?”

Maddox called back, “I left something in my fort.”

The back door slammed.

“You need a coat!” James cautioned, noting in a lower voice, “That kid. Where does he get his energy?” James flicked on the back outdoor light.

The back door slammed again as Maddox returned.

“Don’t go out again without a coat,” his father ordered him. “And stamp your feet on the mudroom rug. Don’t track snow through the house.”

Kennedy’s father clapped his hands in the front hall. “Okay, everyone. Time to see Christmasland!”

“What’s that, Granddad?”

“You’ll see. Put on your coat. We won’t be leaving the car, so you don’t have to bundle up too much.” Sebastian came into the dining room. “You’re coming with us, aren’t you, Kabey?” Lowering his voice, he added enticingly, “Over by Surfside Road, it looks like the North Pole. Several of the streets have houses with every kind of lighted holiday spectacle you can imagine. Santa and his reindeer and sleigh on the roof. Frosty the Snowman. Beautiful life-size crèches.”

Kennedy placed her hands on her belly. “I’d love to go but I’m not feeling very good. I’m not sure the food agreed with me. Duck is so rich.”

“Would you like some bicarb of soda in water?”

“That would be great, Daddy, thanks.”

Her father went off to the kitchen. Kennedy hauled herself up from the table and slowly lumbered into the living room, where she collapsed on a sofa.

“Mommy, aren’t you coming?” Maddox asked.

“Not tonight, sweetie.” Kennedy smoothed her son’s ruffled hair. “You go with Daddy and Granddad.”

“Nicole, too.” Maddox’s eyes were shining with excitement, his cheeks rosy from his run out into the cold.

“My big boy.” Kennedy hugged him to her as well as she could. “I love you, Mad Man.”

The others congregated in the front hall, pulling on gloves and coats while Nicole did her St. Martyr of the Household bit again, bringing Kennedy a pile of magazines and tucking a blanket over her feet. Maddox was jumping up and down with anticipation. Kennedy’s father helped Nicole into her down coat. Kennedy felt childishly miffed at herself. Everyone else was giddy and good-natured. She was like a fat female Scrooge.

As soon as she saw the Grand Cherokee’s lights fade into the distance, she levered herself off the sofa. Trundling up the stairs to the second floor, she headed down the long hall to the last small room, used as a storage room. Turning on the light, she was pleased to see that nothing had changed. Her grandmother’s wedding gown was still zipped in a dress bag, hanging from the back of the closet. Her ice skates, skis, and rollerblades were in the closet, along with a few of her more memorable Halloween costumes and her father’s high school letter jacket. One wall was lined with shelves filled with books. Her favorite books from childhood had been pillaged to take to her home to read to Maddox. Her high school and college yearbooks were still here.

The family photo albums were here, too. Ha.

Kennedy had been a child before digital cameras hit the scene, so her parents had devotedly snapped shots, had them printed off, and slipped the best photos into handsome leather-bound albums. Getting to them now was difficult, because they lined the lowest shelves, requiring Kennedy to squat—not her easiest posture—to wrench them out of the tightly packed shelf. They were heavy, fat, and bulky. Still, she persevered, tugging them off the shelf until she had them in a pile. Then, two by two, she carried them downstairs to the living room coffee table. It was a time-consuming process. She could heft only two at a time, and she had to hold those against her body with one arm so she could grasp the stair banister with her free hand. Fourteen unwieldy albums, compressing so many years of her family’s life. Huffing, puffing, gasping, wheezing, Kennedy climbed down and back up, down and back up, her lower back cramping with protest at the weight.