No Place Like Home (Holiday Classics) (8 page)

On the walk back to the car, Jonathan said, “My mother called me today. She’s back at Laurel Hills.”

“How nice. Where has she been?”

Not how is she? Is she all right? Or, are
you
all right, Jonathan?
How could I have been so blind
and
stupid?

“With the Trips. She had her cataracts operated on. She can see again. They also took the cast off her arm. She sounded wonderful. Right as rain, as a matter of fact. She wants to move the offices and factory to Larkspur. I didn’t argue with her.”

“The next thing you’re going to tell me is your mother is going to sell the apartment.” Alexandra’s voice could have chilled milk. “Which then brings me to my next question—where are we going to live when we get married?”

“Now that you’ve brought up the subject, I think we should discuss postponing the wedding for a little while until I can settle things with my family.”

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed. “Jonathan, the invitations have been sent out. We paid deposits on everything. The tulips are coming from Holland. I can’t cancel now. We locked in the time with the minister. My gown has been altered. We can’t postpone it. People will say you…people will say you
dumped
me.” She started to cry.

Jonathan wondered why he was unmoved by her tears. He jammed his hand into his pocket and found the picture of Margie. He almost swooned at the comforting feeling that washed over him.

“You can tell everyone you dumped me if that will make you feel better. I won’t deny it. Since I’m the one who wrote the checks for everything, including your gown, don’t worry if we lose the deposits.”

“Oh, Jonathan,” she said, dabbing at her eyes. “What happened to us? Everything was so perfect until…well, it was just perfect. It’s our life, our marriage. Why are you letting other people have a voice in our affairs?”

“Because those other people are my family, and they have a right to voice their opinions. Do you understand what I’m saying, Alexandra? They’re my family, and they have a right. I forgot about that for a little while.” His hand inside his pocket closed over the silver frame again. How good it felt. How right.

“I’ll drop you off at your apartment, Alexandra. I have a meeting I can’t postpone any longer.”

“Just like that, bam, you’re dropping me off at my apartment? I thought we were going to dinner. Are you saying you don’t want me to go back to the apartment with you? Well, Jonathan, what am I supposed to do? I suppose this means I have to spend Christmas by myself!” she screeched, the decibel level so high that Jonathan shuddered.

“Alexandra, you could go home and spend the holidays with your family. It’s what people do.” He’d wanted his voice to be gentle and soft. Instead it came out tough and firm. The words suddenly made him feel like his old self again. His grip on the silver frame in his pocket was so tense, his fingers cramped up.

“You are beyond hateful, Jonathan. Don’t bother dropping me off. I don’t want you going out of your way. I’ll take a cab.”

Jonathan stood on the curb and watched as his fiancée flagged down a cab. He waved.

With both hands.

A week earlier he’d been in love with the woman he was waving to. Now, he didn’t even like her.

His hand sought the silver picture frame. “Thanks,” he murmured as he climbed into his car.

“You’re welcome.”

Jonathan whirled around so fast he got dizzy. “Margie?” When there was no response, he climbed into the car and turned on the ignition, then the lights. Before he slipped the car into gear, he withdrew Margie’s picture from his pocket. “I guess it was wishful thinking on my part. I’m coming to see you now.”

“I’m waiting.”

He was overtired and hallucinating. Since Thanksgiving he hadn’t been eating right and had barely slept two hours a night. The mind was a wonderful thing.

Fifty minutes later, Jonathan steered the car off the Garden State Parkway at Exit 10. He turned onto Route 27, which would take him to Metuchen, New Jersey, where Margie was buried next to her parents.

A light snow was falling when he drove into the cemetery. He had the parking area to himself. Who in his right mind visited a cemetery at night? He hunkered into his cashmere coat and walked with his head down. He’d been there so many times, he knew he could find Margie’s final resting place wearing a blindfold.

In the beginning, after Margie’s death, they’d stayed at the apartment in New York for the Trips, even enrolling them in school just so they could make the hour-long trip to Metuchen every day. Back then, none of them could sleep unless they’d made the trip to their mother’s final resting place earlier in the day.

It wasn’t an overly large marker, but it was a meaningful one. Carved into the stone was a graceful angel, her wings spread just wide enough to encompass three small children. Their protector. Always their protector.

His cold fingers traced the outline of the angel and the children. A sense of peace washed over him. Marjorie Ann Cisco. And underneath, Wife and Mother. He dropped to his knees, his shoulders shaking. He talked then, saying all the things he hadn’t said for years, things that needed to be said.

When he finally got to his feet, he was surprised to see that he was covered in snow. He felt numb with cold. His frozen fingers found the picture frame in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I took the wrong path, Margie. If it takes me the rest of my life, I’m going to get back on the right path. I just wanted to say I’ll be back. I promise.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he walked back to the car. He turned the heater on high.
“It’s all right to make a mistake as long as you make it right in the end.”
His fanciful imagination at work again? Maybe not…

S
am stopped the Rover at the top of the winding road that led down to the little valley where the cottage stood. For some reason, they always referred to the house as a cottage, probably because Cisco said it was originally supposed to be just a summer residence. Three rooms and a bath. Then, when their grandfather passed away, Cisco had had to sell the main house and move there with their father. Over the years, rooms and bathrooms had been added, although from this vantage point, those rooms weren’t visible because they extended out the back.

The cozy cottage with the peaked roof was home.

They all climbed out of the car to stare down into the little valley. It was something they always did because it was so perfect, so beautiful. Now, with five inches of new snow covering everything, it was picture-perfect. Delirious with joy, Freddie romped and twirled and danced her way down the hill.

She was home.

“I swear to the Almighty, I am never leaving this place again,” Cisco said reverently. “Do you hear me? Never!”

“We hear you, Cisco!” the Trips said in unison.

Excitement rang in Hannah’s voice. “Everything’s ready. We even found a handyman for you. His name is Ezra, and he lives over the rise. He brought a ton of firewood the other day. Sam invited him for Christmas Eve. He just moved here last year. He’s a widower, Cisco, and he has a sweet tooth. He has a dog named Hugo. We told him he could bring him along.”

“You are so shameless.”

The Trips grinned.

“Power’s on. For now. The generator is gassed up if it goes out. Phone’s working. The fridge and freezer are full. Pump’s primed. We’re so golden, we glow!” Sam chortled.

“Did we tell you Ezra has a snowplow? Well, he does, and he should be here soon to plow the road. It might be nice to invite him for supper. I can’t believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve.”

Cisco dabbed at her eyes behind the dark glasses. “It looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting.”

“No, Cisco. It looks like home.” Sam wrapped his arms around his grandmother’s shoulders. “We’re going to Metuchen the day after Christmas, Cisco.”

“I’ll be right with you. Okay, let’s go home.”

A few minutes later, Sam held the front door for his grandmother. “Ohhh,” was all she could say before the tears started to flow.

“You decorated the house! All our treasures,” she said, looking around. “What a glorious fire! Oh, look,” she said, sniffing into a wad of tissues. They all watched as Freddie dragged first her bed, then her blanket, then her toys to her spot by the fireplace. She looked up at her mistress before she made one more trip to the back of the house. When she returned, she was dragging a small quilt that she managed to nose up onto Cisco’s chair, which was next to her bed.

“It’s official, we’re home!” Cisco said.

“Chili would be nice for dinner,” Sara said.

“Apple pie would be really good,” Sam said.

“A ton of garlic bread and some cider would be super,” Hannah said.

“While I’m doing all that, what are you three going to be doing?”

They whooped as one. “We are going out to chop down the biggest, the best tree in the valley. We got the decorations out of the attic yesterday. We’ll hang the wreath on the door when we get back,” Sam said. “And don’t touch those presents,” he said, pointing to a pile of gaily wrapped gifts sitting in one corner.

“First, though, we’re going to have some lunch. I want to sit in the kitchen and talk and just look at everything,” Hannah said. “This is so much like old times, I feel like crying. Do you all remember how we sat here at the table and made that spindly Christmas tree out of popsicle sticks and painted it green? Then we made all those paper ornaments to hang on it. Then on Christmas Day, we piled into the car and drove five hours to New Jersey to put it on Mom’s grave,” Sara said.

“That’s not something you ever forget,” Hanny said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Damn, why isn’t Dad here?”

Cisco stared at her grandchildren. This was something they had to work out without her help. She started to bustle about the kitchen, making coffee and sandwiches, heating up canned soup. Outside a light snow was falling.

She walked over to the kitchen door, opened it, and looked down at the row of holly bushes. She felt like cheering when she saw the bright red berries through the snow. She continued listening to the Trips as she opened cans and jars.

“Hey, Sam, do you remember the time Cisco asked you to make a fire? You forgot to open the flue and the whole place filled up with smoke. Dad had to find us and drag us outside. We had to paint the whole place. We could have been overcome with smoke that day. I remember how he scooped me up under one arm, Hanny under the other arm, and you held on to his pant leg until we were outside. He seemed so big, so strong. so
fatherly
. He’s not going to come, is he?” Sara mumbled.

“He might,” Sam said. “Christmas is a time of miracles. Don’t bet the rent on it, though.” His voice was gruff and full of sadness.

Always in tune with her siblings, Sara turned to Cisco. “When everyone gets here, we’re going to do all the stuff we do every year, right?”

“Of course we are. We’re going to stuff the turkey, and, while it’s roasting, we’re going to make taffy. We’re going to drink cider and eggnog, and sing carols while we decorate the tree. This year we’re going to have so much help, it will all be done before we know it. It’s going to be wonderful,” Cisco said happily as she slipped Freddie a slice of cheese.

“Oh, no, Cisco, it has to take hours.
Hours.
That’s half the fun. We’re sticking to tradition here. Sara unwraps the ornaments, I hook them, you tell the story behind them, and Sam and…and Sam hangs them on the tree. We all get to open one present each. Lord, what a decision that is. Remember, Sam, the biggest isn’t always the best,” Hanny said. “Remember the time you couldn’t wait to open that big box, the one the new washer came in, only to find a pair of wool ski socks. Boy, we had you going that year. You looked so dumbfounded. I will treasure that moment forever.”

Cisco set lunch on the table. “It is like old times, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. There is no place I’d rather be right now than here,” Sam said. He bit into his sandwich. When no one was looking, he slipped Freddie part of it. Had he looked down at the floor, he would have seen that his sisters and his grandmother had done the same thing.

“I’ll clean up,” Cisco said, when they finished eating. “It’s starting to snow again, so you’d better get out there and get that tree before we get six more inches of snow. Be sure to pick a nice one now. Freddie and I will stay here and wait for you. When you get back, I want you to cut some holly for the house.”

When the door closed behind the Trips, Cisco walked over to her chair and sat down. Once more tears rolled down her wrinkled cheeks. “Thank You, God, thank You, God, thank You, God!” Freddie whimpered at her feet before she curled up on her bed. Her world was right side up, too.

Cisco sighed. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this happy. If only…She sighed as she got up and stacked the dishwasher.

It was an old sled, its runners polished to a high gloss. The long rope handle was new. It would take all of them to pull the tree back to the cottage. They stopped twice, once to make snow angels and once to pelt each other with snowballs.

“So, when is the luscious Sonia due to arrive?” Sara needled.

“Listen, will you please not…give her the business. She’s shy, and she doesn’t understand all the bullshit you two fling at me. Will you just take it easy with her? I really like her.”

Sara and Hannah stared at their brother. “Okay,” they said in unison.

Sam eyed them suspiciously. “You’re not going to make me beg?”

“Nope.”

“You aren’t going to show her those bareassed baby pictures?”

“Nope.”

“Why are you suddenly being so accommodating?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“So you don’t turn around and do the same thing to Joel and Zack that you don’t want us to do to Sonia,” Hannah said.

“Aha!”

It started out as a playful punch to Sam’s arm, then accelerated into a knockdown free-for-all. They battered each other, their faces furious, as they kicked, gouged, and shoved. It was a replay of their one and only battle after their mother died. Their father had tried to break that one up, but Cisco in her infinite wisdom had said they needed to get their grief and aggression out, and if it took a fight, so be it.

The name-calling now was more sophisticated and left no doubt as to its meaning.

Hannah’s mittened hand went to her eye after Sara’s fist landed a right hook. She toppled to the ground to roll over just as Sam took a wild, flying leap, his nose dripping blood. Hannah’s foot went up and out, sending Sara reeling backward into the snow.

They screeched, they bellowed, they cursed as they refused to give up. When Sam landed in a snowdrift from Sara’s wild swing, he thought his head was going to explode. “What the hell are we fighting about?” he managed to croak. “Damn, now I’m going to have a black eye. I can’t see, and my head is ringing.”

“Shut up!” Sara seethed. “I wasn’t hitting you!”

“Take a look at my face and try telling me that again,” Sam moaned. “Look at Hannah! Hey, are you okay?”

“Are you nuts! Do I look okay to you? I should kill you for hitting me like that. Don’t give me any of that bull that you weren’t hitting me.”

Sara sat in a pile of snow hugging her knees, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Who the hell were we hitting?”

“Dad,” Sam and Hannah said at the same time.

Sara snorted. They were right. “You two look pretty ugly. You both have shiners. They’ll go nice with your Christmas outfits.”

“Wait till you see how you look,” Hannah said, falling backward in the snow. She started to laugh then and couldn’t stop. Sam rolled over on top of her, and, together, they rolled down the hill, their arms and legs going every which way. They were still laughing when they climbed back to the top of the hill.

“Your nose is three times its normal size, Sara.” Sam guffawed. “Maybe one of those two dandy doctors coming for Christmas Eve knows another dandy doctor who can give you a nose job. You’re gonna need it. Don’t think for one minute your eyes aren’t going to turn black-and-blue, because they are.”

“Makeup…”

“…Ain’t gonna cut it, honey.” Sam guffawed again.

“What the hell were we trying to do?” Hannah whispered as she packed snow around her eye.

“I guess we were…what difference does it make?” Sara said, getting up. “C’mon, we have a tree to cut down.”

“Do we really hate him that much?” Hard-Hearted Hannah whimpered.

“Nah. We just hate some of the shit he pulls. We can’t hate our father. He’s the only one we’ve got. I’m glad all those people are coming for Christmas Eve. Maybe we won’t miss him as much.” Sam pulled the string on the chain saw, but it didn’t catch.

“We didn’t pick out the tree yet. Why are you starting that thing up?”

“‘Cause I’m going to chop off your legs if you don’t shut up. Pick out a damn tree already. My eye’s killing me. I wanna go home.”

They trudged through the piney grove in snow up to their knees. “That’s it! That’s the one. It’s perfect!” Sara said thirty minutes later.

“It’s big all right,” Hannah said, craning her neck to look up. “Do you remember the time…”

“Hanny, I don’t want to play, ‘do you remember.’ I just want to get this tree cut so we can take it home. What are you waiting for, Sam?”

“Boy, are you ugly, Sara. Your nose is as big as Freddie’s ball. You know, that rubber one she rolls around.”

“Hannah, is it?” Sara wailed.

“It’s big, Sara. How are my eye and cheekbone?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Timberrrr!” Sam yelled, shutting off the chain saw the moment the spruce tree fell to the ground. “Oh, it smells so…wonderful!”

“Yeah, it does. Wait till we get it set up in the house. The whole place will smell like it did when Mom and Dad put up the tree. Remember how sad Mom always got when we cut down a tree. She always made Dad plant
two
in the spring to replace it.”

“I’m too tired to remember anything. Push, Hanny. Sam, come on, put some muscle behind it.”

They were a quarter of a mile from the house when they stopped. “I can’t move another step,” Sam said. “One of you has to pull for a while, and I’ll push. Hey, look, there’s Ezra with his truck. Maybe he can tie the sled to the back and pull it.”

The old man, seventy if he was a day, hopped out of the truck and looked at them. “Your grandmother sent me to find you.”

“Well, you found us. Can you hook us up to the truck and get us home?” Hanny pleaded.

Arms like tree trunks reached down for the spruce. He had it up and in the back of the truck within minutes. The sled was next. “Hop in, young’uns.”