Marie Sexton - Coda 06 - Fear, Hope, and Bread Pudding (4 page)

“There must be something on TV,” I said. Even if it was in German, at leastwe’d have something to focus on.
I was already counting the days until this visit was over.

Chapter Four

C
HRISTMAS morning, I left Cole sleeping in bed and went for a run. There were very few people on the streets so early. The market was empty and silent. The sky was overcast, the air damp and heavy and bitterly cold, making strange, glowing halos around every light. It was like looking at the world through a soft-focus lens. The bare trees seemed ethereal, somehow taunting me with the knowledge that nothing today would be what it should.

The night before had been mercifully short. Grace had been overtaken by jet lag within the hour and had gone to bed. I’d dutifully followed my father to midnight mass at a local church, even though we couldn’t understand what was being said. By the time we’d come home, Cole had been sound asleep.

I considered the coming day with trepidation. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I also wasn’t sure how I felt about Grace. She wasn’t the vile bitch I’d envisioned, but she was still the woman who hadn’t managed to attend our wedding or join us for Cole’s birthday, even when we were in the same city.

By the time I got back to the condo, I was freezing, despite a long and brisk jog. I found Cole emerging from the shower. He smiled wickedly at me and tossed his towel aside.

“Perfect timing, love.”

I didn’t even manage to undress all the way. I lifted him onto the bathroom counter, pushed my jogging pants down while he fumbled with the lube, and then his legs were wrapped around my waist, his body tight and warm around my cock. The room was still filled with steam. His skin felt feverishly hot against mine, and the smell of strawberries was everywhere. We made love with the quiet furtiveness of youth, half giggling, half desperate, strangely aware of my father’s and his mother’s presence somewhere in the house. I wondered afterward if it would be the same way when we became parents.

By the time I emerged from our room, having showered and put on real clothes, everybody else was up and dressed. My father and I were both wearing jeans, but Grace wore a wool pantsuit and had her hair pulled back again into its tight knot. She looked as though she was attending a social event rather than a comfortable holiday with family.

Cole was planning an enormous meal for midday, so we had only pastries and coffee for breakfast. Grace, my father, and I sat around the kitchen table. Cole was already busy preparing food, although I suspected it had more to do with burning nervous energy than because anything needed to be done.

“Come sit down with us,” Grace said to him when he started dicing up celery.

 

“I’d rather finish this now.”

She sighed. “I don’t know why you’re going to so much trouble. Certainly you could have had it catered, or paid somebody to do the cooking.”

There was the slightest hitch to his movements, a half second of hesitation as his knife came down on the cutting board, but he didn’t speak. It was my father who answered Grace.

“He likes to cook,” he said. It wasn’t a reprimand so much as a fond statement about his son-in-law. “Leave him alone.”

Grace turned her head quickly away. It was a strange, jerking motion that was somehow familiar. “It just seems like an awful lot of trouble.”

Eventually we wandered into the living room to open gifts. We took turns, opening them one at a time to make it last as long as we could. I wondered what it would be like in the future. Would we have a child to tear through the presents? Would we have a chance to assemble toys in the night and to stuff stockings? Cole tried hard to be bright and cheery, but I could see how it weighed on him. I saw his smile falter when he thought nobody was looking. Whether my father and Grace knew what was going through his head, I didn’t know, but they seemed to sense that something was wrong. There was an undeniably mournful undertone to the day.

We were scheduled to be in Munich until the New Year, and apparently Cole hadn’t wanted us to be bored. Most of our presents from him consisted of tickets: a day trip to Salzburg, ski passes for both Alpspitze and Zugspitze, and tickets to a symphony. It had probably cost him a ridiculous amount of money, but I was relieved to find we wouldn’t be spending the entire week sitting in the condo with nothing to say.

Cole’s mother smiled graciously when she opened her gifts, but I sensed she was disappointed. The things Cole had chosen for her were expensive but subtle, and I suspected they weren’t quite her taste. She’d brought candies for my father, and a pair of leather gloves much like the ones she’d been wearing when she arrived. There was also one large box from her addressed to both Cole and I.

“I hope you like it,” she said with absolute sincerity. Judging by the glint of hope in her eyes, she’d put a great deal of thought into the gift. I handed it to Cole to open.

Cole was never one to rip into a present, and this time was no different. He untied the ribbon and laid it aside. He carefully located the pieces of tape and then folded the paper properly out of the way. He took the lid off of the box.

Then he froze, staring down into it. For the barest of seconds, he forgot to keep his mask in place. I saw what he really felt, and it was nothing but overwhelming sadness.

“What is it?” I asked.

He blinked and his moment of transparency was over. He managed to smile at his mother, although his expression was as unreadable as ever. “It’s lovely,” he said. “Thank you.”

The hope in her eyes turned to disappointment. “You don’t like it?”

 

“Don’t be silly, Mother. Of course I do.” He set the box aside and started to stand up. “I need to check on dinner—”

Whatever it was, it had upset him so much that he was making an excuse to leave the room. I reached over and took his hand before he could bolt. He sat back down but refused to look at either me or his mother. Grace bit her lip and stared down at her lap. My father raised his eyebrows at me, mutely asking the obvious question. I let go of Cole and pulled the box toward me to see what was inside.

It was full of baby things—a couple of blankets, a stuffed dog, several sleepers, and a pair of booties—all in gender-neutral colors, all undoubtedly of the highest quality. I glanced up at her in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Your father told me.”

 

I turned to my father for confirmation. He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

No, it wasn’t a secret. Not necessarily. But it was a definite sore spot for Cole. Her intentions had been good, but she’d unknowingly hit him where he was most vulnerable. I reached out to take his hand again, but he pulled away. “It’s fine,” he said, more to me than to her. “Stop acting as if I’m going to fall apart at the drop of a hat. I’m not as fragile as you think.”

He couldn’t bring himself to lash out at his mother, so he’d snapped at me instead. I accepted it, because anything else would make it harder for him. He stood up and went into the kitchen, leaving the rest of us in awkward silence. I still didn’t necessarily like Grace, but I felt compelled to try to explain. “I’m sorry,” I said to her. “The thing is—”

“Don’t worry about it.” She began gathering her gifts, packing them together into one box. It gave her an excuse to avoid meeting my eyes. “It’s nothing, really. It was just something I picked up in the airport anyway. It doesn’t matter a bit.”

I looked at the gifts again. I was no expert on baby items, but I’d been in plenty of airports, and I was pretty sure nothing here had come from one. I glanced up at her again, but she was still doing her best not to make eye contact with either my father or me. She took her small bundle of gifts down the hall to her room.

“Wow,” my dad said quietly. “That was uncomfortable.” “No kidding.” I couldn’t help but feel that the entire mess was his fault. He was the one who’d insisted on inviting her. He was the one who’d divulged our plans to adopt. “Why did you have to tell her?”

He was unfazed by my anger. “It seemed like the thing to do. I suppose I should have warned her that it was such a touchy subject—” “A ‘touchy subject’?” My voice was getting louder, but I couldn’t help it. “Is that how you see it? You think he’s being unreasonable?”

“Jon.” My father’s voice was steady, his gaze level on mine. “Is picking a fight with me really going to make this situation any better?”
I sighed in frustration. “No.” Although admitting it only annoyed me more.

“I didn’t think so.” He pointed toward the kitchen. “I think he needs you right now.”

“I know.” But I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. I put my head in my hands and counted to ten. I thought about Cole’s words.
I’m not as fragile as you think
. No, he wasn’t fragile, but his hold on hope was tenuous at the moment, and I knew how desperately he needed it. And no matter how he tried to pretend he could handle anything on his own, eventually he’d turn to me. Whenever that happened, I had to be ready.

I took a deep breath, stood up, and headed for the kitchen. “Jon?” my dad said when I was halfway across the room. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for the watch.”
It brought me up short, and I laughed before I could bother to

wonder why it was funny. “Merry Christmas, Dad.”

C
OLE already had his emotions under control again by the time I made it into the kitchen. He pretended nothing had happened at all, and I followed his lead. We generally had fun together when he cooked. In theory, I helped him. What I actually did was get in his way a lot, but it amused him to be forced to work around me. It was as if having me there reminded him that he wasn’t alone anymore. It gave him some kind of reassurance that he was needed and appreciated.

“What’s all the bread for?” I asked when he began to cut a giant loaf of it into cubes. I also noticed he was consulting a cookbook, something I’d rarely seen him do. He seemed to keep most of his recipes in his head.

“Bread pudding.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“You don’t even like bread pudding.”
“What makes you say that?”

I could barely keep from laughing. “Oh, let’s see. How about that time in New Orleans? I suggested it and you said, and I quote, ‘Darling, please! Who on Earth would want to eat a lump of soggy bread for dessert? It’s too dreadful to contemplate.’”

He rolled his eyes, unimpressed by my imitation. “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

I wasn’t though, and we both knew it. There was a reason he hadn’t wanted bread pudding back then, just as there was a reason he was choosing to make it now. It undoubtedly involved Grace, but he didn’t want to talk about it, and pushing him would get me nowhere. Besides, for the moment he was smiling and happy, and I had no desire to change that.

I kissed the side of his head. “You’re impossible.”

 

“I know, but you find it endearing, so it all works out perfectly, doesn’t it?”

 

“I suppose it does.”

Eventually my father and Grace joined us. They sat at the kitchen table, and we drank wine and talked about the trips Cole had planned for us. We were back on safe ground again, even if it did feel a bit tense. It wasn’t until hours later that things began to disintegrate again. We were just finishing dinner, and Cole was giving Grace a rundown of all the places we’d been through the course of the year.

“Why so many?” she asked.
“Why not?”

She laughed. “You can’t hold still, can you? You’re just like your father.”

It wasn’t an accusation. Her tone was light and conversational, but the light seemed to go out of Cole’s eyes. His smile turned wooden. “I don’t think I’m anything like Father.”

“Honey, if that’s true, then what are we doing here? Why else would we have to fly halfway around the world to spend Christmas together?”

“Most people like to travel.”

 

“I suppose. Then again, most people don’t have your money, do they? It cost an arm and a leg to get here.”

Cole slowly set his fork down as if he was afraid to keep it in his hand. He didn’t glance up again, but kept his eyes on his utensils when he answered. “I suppose I should have offered to pay your airfare.”

“Well, it was awfully short notice. If I’d had more time to plan—”

“Bullshit!” I said. I knew exactly how much money she received from him each month. I also knew how quickly she burned through it. It wasn’t as if she was draining him dry, but her cavalier attitude pissed me off. “He gives you plenty of money. It’s not his fault you can’t manage to hang on to any of it from one month to the next.”

She blinked at me, surprised at my sudden attack. “I’ve never asked for a penny more. Not once.”

 

“You’ve never asked for a penny less either, have you?” “Jon,” Cole said quietly, but I didn’t turn to him. I continued to glare at her across the table, waiting for an answer.

She touched the diamond necklace she wore—not the one Cole had given her, I noticed—and closed her eyes as if contemplating her next move. When she opened them again, she looked at Cole. “It’s true that all this time, I’ve continued to think of it as your father’s money rather than yours. If you need to give me less—”

“No,” Cole said to her. “It’s fine.” He glanced at me sideways rather than turn to face me. “Jon, stop. Please.”

I slumped in defeat. I wanted to defend him, but in doing so, I was making things harder for him. I held up my hands in surrender, but I didn’t apologize to her. I wouldn’t go that far.

Cole sat up straight to face Grace and let his hair fall away from his face. “Next year, we’ll stay in the States if you like.”

She was still watching me, probably waiting for another argument. It was my father who spoke. “We might want to stay in Phoenix by that time anyway. After all, you might be parents by then. Trust me, traveling with a child isn’t aseasy as you might think.”

“Don’t be silly,” Grace said, picking up her wine glass. “That’s what nannies are for!”

“There won’t be any nannies,” Cole said, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. “I’m not going through the heartache of adopting a child just so somebody else can raise him.”

“I see.” She set the glass back down. She put her fingers on the base and swirled it in small circles. She kept her eyes on the tiny whirlwind of wine rather than face him. “I suppose only inadequate parents resort to such things.”