The Battered Heiress Blues (23 page)

Beep. Redial.

“Your paranoia is making you miss out on one spectacular Christmas in Savannah with my new family, the Martins’. They could have been your new family if you weren’t so damn ridiculous. Wish you were here. Hope you have a bloody good Christmas in New York with Henry and that twit Tricia. Yeah, I know about her. Be sure to send my best to your brother; me choosing me never felt so good.”

Beep. Not again.

“Love you. Goodbye. And God save the Queen.”

Click.

Wow that felt good. I hope it still felt good an hour from now when I had time to regret making the call. I waddled to the bathroom to take a shower before the boys returned. I knew that I would be banished to the couch to watch everyone else decorate the house.

A few more months had to pass before I would be able to hold my Emma. All of the excitement permeating through my mom’s old house made me wish that she were around to take in my fat belly and guarded joy. She was a lover of the holidays. Mr. Burney had held a torch for my mom since they were in kindergarten. My grandfather was very particular about who she spent time with. He’d never let her openly associate with Ned Burney; the son of a farmer. An imprudent match would not be tolerated. The last Christmas I spent in Savannah, he regaled stories of my mom’s kindness, generosity, and friendship. He told me that she once presented him with a check to expand his business when she heard that the banks had turned him down for a loan. She was inspiring. I longed to be more like her.

I made a bed on the couch in the drawing room, where we had always set up the tree. Just imagining the hustle and bustle created by watching my new friends trim the tree made me giggle with delight. No one could see the house from the road, but it always brought me great pleasure to drive up and see the Frasier Fir pouring light through the drawing room window. The front door opened.

“I’m in here Gabe,” I called out.

“Julia?”

“Tommy?”

What was he doing here? My brother came around the corner and looked comforted to lay his eyes on me. Wearing his usual priestly frocks, he sat next to me studying my face. His own relaxed expression became pensive as he searched for words.

“I thought you were coming next week for Christmas?”

“I had to come early.”

“Had to…what does that mean?”

Tommy started wringing his hands and looking back towards the door. He was obviously nervous. I grabbed his hand to try and calm him.

“Since Connor’s funeral, Dad and I have been talking- a little bit.”

“That’s good…I guess. Has he been playing nice?” I moved closer to him, growing concerned about the internal battle that was betrayed by the expression on his face. He was purposefully hesitating and I was beginning to feel sorry for his anguish.

“He reached out, Julia, and I’ve been trying to meet him halfway.”

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

“I’ve done something, albeit unintentional. You’re going to be awfully mad at me.”

“Why?” I leaned forward anticipating the worst, but hoping for the best.

“I told Dad about your bleeding scare and the bed rest. I let it slip that you called me at three in the morning and he became concerned. I swore him to secrecy. He won’t tell anyone. He doesn’t know the baby is Henry’s. That bit of news I’ve left to you.”

“Tommy,” I chastised.

“I’m not done. That’s not the worst of it, unfortunately.”

“How could there be more?”

“He’s here,” he added with fear in his voice.

“Here, here?”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Here, here…in the car.”

I winced. I wasn’t ready for all of this. I certainly wasn’t prepared for a Christmas with my father. I hadn’t spent a holiday with him since I left for college over a decade ago.

“How is this going to fit in with keeping my stress level low?”

“He has promised not to be difficult. He’s your father, Julia. He’s concerned.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Bitterness doesn’t become you.”

“Call it what you will. I have a very long memory. I could refresh yours if you’d like.”

“Look, he won’t stay if you don’t want him to. He just wants to see for himself that you’re okay.”

“Oh, you owe me…big time. Help me up.”

As I uncovered myself, Tommy pulled me to my feet, exaggerating the effort it took to get me vertical.

“You’re huge,” he gasped.

“It’s a good thing God predestined you to the priesthood because you’d never make it with women.”

I gave him a well deserved smack as I walked to the front door, trying to call to mind my mom’s attributes; the kind Ned Burney pontificated about. Knowing I lacked her compassion and grace, I opted to shoot for civil. Ruining everyone else’s Christmas with private family battles was unfair. I opened the front door and saw him sitting in the passenger side of the car. I turned back to Tommy and grimaced, belly aching in a low tone so he could hear my disgust and disapproval of his most serious screw up to date. Turning toward my father, I tried to appear congenial. When John saw me, he opened the door and cautiously swung his legs out. I moved forward to the edge of the veranda, trying to seem welcoming.

“Father.”

He rose from the car and walked to me, slowly, as if expecting another onslaught of insults; the kind he endured leaving Connor’s funeral. I suddenly became aware of how horrid I must look. Months had passed since my face was masked in make-up. My hair was still pulled up and I was in my pajamas. Similar attire had solicited a nasty response from him during his last trip here.

“You look good…nice and healthy.”

He was carrying a bag which he held out as an olive branch.

“I brought you some pajamas, books, and movies to help pass the time on bed rest. I bought them myself. No one knows.”

“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.” I wanted to add that it was very unlike him, but I figured that was just the mean spirit of my hormones talking so I remained quiet. “How long can you stay?”

“For Christmas if I’m invited?”

“This is your home too. Should I move out of Mom’s room for you?”

“No. No. Any room will do. It has been a long time since I slept in this house.”

“Yes it has. Come in out of the cold.”

As my father walked ahead of us, I gave Tommy that eat shit and die look; the one from our childhood that signaled to the other that they should sleep with one eye open. He snickered back in reply as if his evil plan was working

“Where is everyone?” Tommy inquired.

“They’ve gone to Mr. Burney’s nursery to pick out a tree.”

John seemed curious about my new friends.

“Who are the Martins’- these people you have taken under your wing? I’ve heard your brother and Henry talk about them.”

“They rent the cottage. Gabe is the Sheriff and he has one son- four years old. John, Mattie has autism. He’s different and amazing all at the same time. He’s important to me. I hope you’ll be nice to him- to them. They’ve become family to me.”

“Of course I’ll be nice. I’m glad you’ve found friends here. I’m appreciative of the support they’ve given you in my absence.”

-In his absence? My entire lifetime could cover his absence. Tommy interrupted my emotions that were on the verge of boiling over.

“Where is Ms. Martin?” Tommy asked.

“Ms. Martin? The sheriff is married?” John seemed confused.

“No. Ms. Martin is Gabe’s mom. She is a registered nurse. I hired her to look after me and the baby once she’s born.”

As if heaven sent, the Martin family made their entrance, interrupting our contrived, heartfelt conversation. I must have had that disconcerting look on my face because Gabe flew into protective mode, unable to see Tommy sitting in the corner.

“We have a guest? Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m Julia’s father. And you are?”

“Ah, pleasure to meet you. Gabe Martin and this is Mattie. I didn’t know you were coming for a visit. Hi, Tommy.”

“Gabe. Thanks for looking after my sister so well. I owe you a large debt of gratitude; especially your mom.”

“No trouble…except for the occasional mood swings and stubbornness.”

“Watch it,” I pointed at him.

Mattie walked over to me and held up his marbles.

“Look, Tommy. Your marbles have found a new home.”

“I’m so grateful, Mattie. I have an entire closet full of good stuff for you. Why don’t you and your dad come with me? We’ll find some new treasures.”

“Oh, you’re about to surpass Jewels as his favorite person,” he quipped.

“Not possible,” I firmly stated.

“Mr. Spencer, would you be so kind as to help my mom with the groceries?”

“That would be no trouble. I would be happy to. Please call me John.”

“Thank you. Let’s go Mattie. Tommy has some toys for us to take apart.”

I had a few minutes of silence to collect my thoughts. I had anticipated telling my father at some point, but not at Christmas, and not before I had prepared some grand speech to break the news. He didn’t seem disappointed in me which was surprising. He didn’t comment on my appearance which was shocking. He seemed different. I couldn’t put my finger on the changes, but they were evident in his amiable words.

John entered the house loaded down with brown bags. I tried to take one from him but he wouldn’t hear of it. He ordered me back to the couch and I was quickly reminded that he was still my father. His admonishment took me back to age six. Naturally, I complied. His tone was lighter and he bashfully smiled as he took directions from Ms. Martin. As they disappeared into the kitchen, another knock at the door brought me to my feet.

“Sit down,” Tommy’s voice ordered from behind me.

“Yes sir, Tommy sir,” I sniped back irritated. Was this the army, or what?

“Better yet…go upstairs and rest. We’ll call you when we’re ready to do the tree.”

Mr. Burney’s crew had descended on the house. Within three hours, every interior staircase was wrapped with lighted garland and red and green ribbons. Electric candles were placed in every window and wreaths hung on the exterior. The verandas were magically illuminated with colorful lights; my gift to Mattie. I couldn’t help but go against tradition this year. I was a white light girl, but Mattie lived in Technicolor. Smiles were painted on everyone’s face- even my father’s. Perhaps, this would be a Christmas to heal old wounds.

16

C
alling ahead, I warned Dr. Brandon that the whole lot of us would be attending my appointment. The family had obviously convened a meeting on the need to be uplifting; a move to counteract my nervousness. My home had turned into a positive motivational convention. I half expected that Tony guy from the infomercials to waltz through the door at any moment. I knew there was no gentle way to ask them to let me go to my ultrasound scan alone. Tommy and John were aware that Gabe had accompanied me the last time. Ms. Martin was my nurse. If anyone needed to be there, it was her. Gabe was protective and already invested in the outcome, having been with me for every appointment thus far. Mattie was just a tag along, but perhaps would get a kick out of seeing Emma. There was no way to avoid the circus ahead.

We loaded into two cars. Mattie rode with me and Gabe. My dad had asked Ms. Martin to ride with them. I was starting to think that he was sweet on her, though that sentiment seemed so foreign to his genetic code. I had no memory of him with my mom. Not one time, over the past thirty years, had he presented a woman to us as his girlfriend. However, he was being too charming and attentive to Gabe’s mom. I almost felt the need to warn her.

Our caravan made its way through the beautiful streets of historic Savannah. All of the old mansions were aglow with lights and decorations. I could just imagine what Mattie would say if he could comment on the world he was seeing. Finally arriving at the hospital, Gabe pulled up to the entrance and stopped. Tommy dropped off Ms. Martin and John to keep me from walking in alone. My father left to get a wheelchair as we waited inside the sliding doors, out of the cold. Dr. Brandon was delivering two babies today. He asked that we meet him at the hospital for the ultrasound so he could see firsthand how the pregnancy was progressing.