Home in Time for Christmas (8 page)

“Dad, we're supposed to bitch and moan. It's our God-given right,” Keith said.

“If we don't bitch and moan, how do we change things?” Melody asked. She turned to Jake. “Isn't that half the point of the Constitution, too? It was written to be amended. Dad, if people didn't bitch and moan, women wouldn't have the vote. Slavery would still exist. We have to speak up to change things, right?”

“Absolutely,” Jake said. “Hopefully, though,” he said sorrowfully, “most changes will not require a civil war. But then, I suppose that was inevitable. I mean, even when they were writing the Constitution, it was an issue. Many people wanted antislavery laws written in, but many of the men going to war were slave owners. Some made a point of saying that upon their deaths their slaves were to be given their freedom, but then again, I took
umbrage with that myself! I mean, if that's your belief, make it a point during your own lifetime.”

Keith flashed his sister a smile. There was an indignation in Jake's voice that rang sincerely.

Just as if he'd really been there at the time.

“I wrote about it, of course,” Jake continued. “I made a few enemies, and certainly rhetoric spun around and around, and you must remember, certain of those men did despise one another. Of course, I was never in that inner circle, but my realm surrounded it, and it's important to remember that we forced ourselves to make compromises, to rise above our own personalities. It doesn't mean that it was perfect, little in life is ever perfect. But we made it work, despite ourselves.”

George and Mona were staring at Jake, dumbstruck.

“He's gone into guide mode,” Melody said hastily.

Jake stared at her. His eyes widened with alarm, and he quickly turned to George. “Sorry, I suppose I did go into…
guide
mode. Mrs. Tarleton, the meat loaf, as all else, is wonderfully palatable, quite delicious, really. Thank you so much for the kindness of this meal.”

“Um—you're welcome,” Mona said quickly.

“All right, looks like we're all done here!” Melody said, rising. She snatched her brother's plate and her own. She started to reach across the table for Jake's.

“Melody,” her mother protested, “Jake is still eating!”

“He just has that last bite and he's all done!” she said cheerfully. “Right, Jake? Scoop it on in.”

He chewed his last bite; the fork was barely off the plate before Melody had it in her hands. She breezed through the swinging kitchen door, then returned in
seconds flat for the rest of the plates. Jake, who had risen after his last mouthful, was collecting more of the dinnerware.

“Lemonade back in the refrigerator, please!” she said.

“My goodness, they're in a hurry,” Mona said.

“Clubbing,” George told her knowingly.

“Responsibly!” Mona added.

“No, Mom,” Melody said. “We're all going to get completely wasted, do a few drugs, maybe go park somewhere in the woods where we know that slashers in masks come to attack the foolish young people. It will be great.”

“Where did we go wrong?” George groaned.

“Well, we didn't actually go wrong,” Mona said. “They're just very mouthy children. Come on, old fellow, let's go get comfy in the family room and leave this all to them!”

With her brother and Jake, it was quick and easy for Melody to get everything picked up and done; Keith was a twenty-first-century guy, much like her father, ready to pitch in with housework, babies, whatever might come his way. Jake seemed ready to fall right in, too.

His fascination with the dishwasher was endless. He seemed to have gotten the concept of the indoor plumbing down all right, but the dishwasher still amazed him.

“He might go crazy vacuuming,” Keith whispered. “We need to show him how!”

She jabbed her brother in the elbow.

“We should be watching DVDs,” she said. “He has a lot more history to go through—we could show him
Defiance,
or
All's Quiet on the Western Front,
or
Pale Rider,
or
The Unforgiven,
or—”

“We can start a moviefest in the morning,” Keith said. “Come on, let's go clubbing. Cut a rug, all that stuff.”

“Cut a rug? What, now you fell out of the last decades, too?” Melody demanded.

“Hustle and shout, baby,” Keith teased.

“Hustle and shout? Is that like a rebel yell?” Jake asked.

“Kind of. My brother insists that you want to see the current pickup mode. Bar hopping, or clubbing. A bunch of drunk people sit around in ridiculous outfits. Sometimes they dance. The music is loud enough to blast your ears. Sometimes, they ask each other questions like, ‘What sign are you?' Sometimes they're honest, and just try to buy each other drinks—or get right down to it and find out if they want to sleep with one another,” Melody said.

“Shocking,” Jake said.

“See? He doesn't want to go,” Melody said.

“On the contrary, I'm quite fascinated,” Jake said.

Keith started to laugh. “It's time to hit the nightlife! No, wait—it's almost time to hit the nightlife. I mean, we have some good stuff right here, but…children!” He set an arm around Melody's shoulder and then one around Jake's. “Go spiff up. No, sorry, Melody, you go spiff up. I'll have to give Jake the right stuff to spiff up with. Thirty minutes, we meet on the porch. I'll play tour guide for the evening.”

“What are you up to?” Melody asked her brother suspiciously.

“Trust me.”

“That's a slightly frightening concept,” she said.

“Oh, ye of little faith!”

She glanced at Jake. He was smiling, watching her.

“Oh, what the hell. Sure, I'm going to trust the guy who used to like to exchange my shampoo with cooking oil. The one who put frogs in my bed. Yeah, right. I will. I'll just go on blind faith!”

She took off up the stairs, shaking her head. “See you guys in thirty.”

 

Thirty minutes later, they were on the porch.

And Keith had done an extraordinary job with Jake.

He was strikingly handsome. While Keith hadn't given him a short cut, he had cleaned up a bit of the rough edges. Jake was clean shaven. He was wearing black dress jeans, a black turtleneck sweater with a jagged red Z down it, and a clean-cut dinner jacket beneath Keith's black wool coat.

He could have posed for
GQ
in a flash.

Her brother was equally impressive in shades of black and amber.

She was glad that she had taken Keith's warning to heart and dressed up a bit. She had never been able to understand the desire to wear something sleeve less beneath a coat, even if most places did heat up the insides to a toasty warmth. She had chosen a long-sleeved black velvet dress with a wicked side slit and a sweetheart neckline. She didn't actually own a pair of stilettos, but she did break down and wear stockings and heels, a pair her mother had bought her at a sale at Filene's Basement. There were actually beautiful shoes, with rhinestones down the back of the shoe and the heel. She'd only worn them a few times.

Keith whistled when he saw her come out on the porch.

Jake asked Keith if whistling was all right because he was her brother, or if it was offensive to whistle, or perhaps expected these days.

“Good question, my man,” Keith told him. “If a pretty girl is just walking down the street minding her own business, I never whistle. If I'm seeing a friend, my sister, my mom, or the new light of my life, I whistle. Because they know I mean it as a compliment. Whistling. Hmm. That's one you have to play by ear.”

“May I?” Jake asked Melody.

She laughed. “Go for it,” she said. He whistled.

“Great whistle. Okay, whose doing the driving, you or me?” she asked Keith.

“Neither of us.”

“We're clubbing it on the front porch?” she asked.

“Keith has arranged for a livery,” Jake said.

“What?”

“Sis, I hired a car. For some reason, I don't see Jake here really getting blitzed, but who knows? And he doesn't have any ID anyway, and he doesn't know how to drive a car. Personally, I'd pay to see you a little snookered. And I didn't feel like making any promises. So—voilà. There he is—our hired town car. Right on time.”

Melody arched a brow. She was thinking that she should protest.

But she didn't want to. The idea of the three of them out on the town with Christmas on the way was a pretty nice one.

“Where are we going?” Melody asked.

“I thought Jake should see Boston. What do you think?”

“Boston sounds fun,” she agreed.

“As I told Jake, I would dearly love to see Boston as it is today,” Jake said.

“Let's go,” Melody said.

 

“George,” Mona called to her husband from the laundry room.

“Wait, just a second, Mona,” George said. “I'm just waiting to see if the construction worker from Des Moines gets the Big Money!”

“Oh, George! He gets the money. He's a very smart fellow.”

“How do you know, Mona?”

“It's a repeat!”

“Oh.” George was deflated.

“I'm so sorry, dear.”

“It's all right.”

Mona heard him rising and walking back to the laundry room.

“What is it?” George asked.

“I picked up Jake's clothing in Keith's room. Will you look at this? Hand-darned socks. His clothing is all made by hand, look at the stitching. It's amazing work.”

“Well, he must work at one of those places where they do everything exactly like they did in Colonial times,” George said, shrugging.

“It's amazing. Everything about that young man is amazing, really. I mean, his name. His association with that book I have…”

“Mona, this is New England. Every town has a Main
Street. Everyone is named after everyone else. What's so amazing?”

“George, you have no imagination.”

“Mona, you're always accusing me of having too much imagination.”

“There's something up here,” she said firmly.

“What? You think he plopped down on us from Colonial times?” George said dryly.

“Maybe.”

“Oh, Mona.
CSI
is on. I've got to watch.”

She sighed. “Yes, dear, so you can complain about what they're doing wrong?”

“I don't complain.”

“You do.”

“Well, come join me anyway.”

“I'll just get the laundry started and…hmm, let's have some warm wine!”

“Whatever you like, dear.”

He headed on back to the family room. Mona studied the fine hand stitching in Jake Mallory's clothing once again.

 

They started off at a place called Trinity. The music tended toward trance, and the dance floor was hopping. There was no conversation because it was impossible to speak over the music. But they had a drink, and Jake managed to insist that Keith and Melody dance on the dance floor with it's huge strobe lights.

After one number, Keith told Jake that he needed to dance.

“I don't know these dances,” he said.

“You don't have to know anything. Just gyrate,” Melody told him.

“I think I'll observe a bit longer.”

“That's okay, we're moving on. How about some kind of heavy-metal rock next?” Keith asked Melody.

“I'm along for the ride,” she said.

And it was a ride well worth being on. Jake was entranced by the skyscrapers dotting the landscape, and more fascinated to see that Faneuil Hall was still standing. They asked their driver to let them off and circle the block a few times so that Jake could see the changes. Through his eyes, the world seemed new. He pointed out where incidents had taken place, where a printing shop had stood, where he had first met John Adams.

Jake walked away, staring at the shops that now surrounded so much that was historical. “We'll come back in the daytime,” Keith called to him, “and you can see the Old North Church.”

“I'd like that,” Jake said.

The car came back around for them. They opted for their next spot, down near the Boston Common. This one played hard rock. Jake was fascinated by the amps.

“Do you play anything?” Melody shouted to Jake.

“Some fiddle, a bit on the flute, a few other instruments…” he told her. He pointed. “That's like a harpsichord, or a piano.”

“Right—it's called a keyboard now!” Melody shouted.

“Do the players go deaf after a while?” Jake shouted back.

“Yes!” Keith assured him.

They ordered chicken wings and beer, and listened while the band played.

“This is good music. Good dancing music,” Keith said.

“The couples do seem to be dancing together,” Jake pointed out.

“That's a hustle, super easy,” Keith said. “Melody, show him how.”

“I—I—I can't lead,” Melody said.

“Jake, one, two, back step, one, two, back step. Follow Melody.”

“Well?” Jake offered her a hand.

“I'm not that good.”

“I won't know, will I?” Jake asked.

They went out on the dance floor together. Jake was awkward at first, but he was willing to be back-led. And it was a simple step, and after a moment, he had it. And as he followed her, she found her confidence growing. “Okay, you're swinging me,” she told him.

“Swinging you where?” he asked.

“Just go with it,” she said.

She took a chance, got him to raise his arm, and she went out in a spin, then led him into a counterspin. When the number finished, she was flushed and excited. They met Keith back at the table, and he looked like the cat who had eaten the canary, very proud of himself.

“Time to move on!” Keith told them.

Apparently, her brother had done some planning. The next place they went, the band played oldies and the decibel level was a bit lower. Jake seemed very happy there, listening to renditions of Elvis Presley, the Beatles, Journey, Boston, Styx and a number of other bands.