by Lori Wick
"Where is your mom?" Delancey asked very suddenly that night.
Of all the things the girls might be thinking about on Christmas Eve, this had never occurred to their mother. Marrell felt herself blink.
"Why hasn't she come yet?" the seven-year-old wanted to know.
"Honey, my mother's dead. She died when I was six. Did you think you were going to see her?"
Delancey nodded her fair head against the pillow.
"I tried to tell her," Mackenzie put in, "but she thought she would be here."
"Oh well, that's all right, D.J. We've talked about this, but you just don't remember. My mother died when I was six, and I came to live with my grandparents because my father was a salesman and traveled a lot."
"Is he still traveling?"
"No. When I was in high school, he got cancer and died before I graduated."
"Where's your grandpa?" This came from Mackenzie.
"He died just a few years ago. You would have been about four, and Delancey would have been three. I have pictures of you in his lap, but you would have been too young to remember him. Okay?"
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"Okay," they both chorused.
"Sleep quick so morning will come."
The girls beamed at her. Marrell kissed them and told them they were loved, but she was preoccupied. Had she really spoken so rarely of her family that her daughters couldn't even remember the details, or was it that they were young and busy with their own lives?
"That's quite a frown," Paul commented as soon as he saw her. He was alone in the living room, and Marrell sat across from him.
"I was just thinking about how selfish we all are."
"Who?"
"All of us-all humans. We're really just wrapped up in our own little worlds with very little thought for anyone else."
Paul's brows rose. "I wouldn't go so far as to say none of us think of others, Marrell. I think you're right that man is basically self-seeking, but on the other side of that, if we don't take care of ourselves, who will?"
"That's a good point," Marrell admitted slowly, but even as she said it, she had doubts. Was man really just here on his own, stuck with making his way along and doing the best he could?
"How does popcorn and cocoa sound?" Pearl stuck her head around the corner and asked from the kitchen.
"Sounds great. Do you want some help?"
"No, I'll get it."
Marrell smiled and looked back to Paul. "Have I thanked you for bringing us here?"
"I think only about 30 times, so you probably should say it a few more times."
Paul patted the couch beside him, and Marrell joined him. Once she was snuggled gently under his arm, he picked up the remote control. Christmas specials of all kinds were on, and before long the popcorn and cocoa made an appearance. The three of them sat up way too late, but it was worth every moment. This was going to be a Christmas they would never forget.
Mackenzie's eyes opened just moments before she suddenly sat up and looked at the digital clock. The LED glowed out a bright red 5:03, and she wondered how much trouble she would
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be in if she got up. No one had said anything about sleeping in, and thiswasChristmas.
She slipped from the double bed she shared with Delancey and out into the living room. The tree lights were dark, so she plugged them in, her face lighting with joy as she sank down to the carpet and looked at the gifts. She knew which ones were hers-she had inspected all of them the morning before. She picked up a small parcel for her mother and shook it. There was a little rattle inside, and for a moment she thought she might have broken something. She put it back with a careful hand and decided not to touch any more gifts.
A sudden movement at the edge of the room caused her to start. Her father came into the light, and she relaxed until she remembered she might be in trouble for getting up so early. She calmed completely when he sat in the big chair and said, "Merry Christmas."
Mackenzie was in his lap the next instant.
"Merry Christmas, Dad."
Paul hugged her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then bent lower and scuffed her cheek with his unshaved jaw.
"Shhh," he said on a soft laugh when Mackenzie began to giggle. "You'll have the whole house awake. Actually, I'm surprised D.J.'s not out here."
"I was quiet."
Paul didn't know that was possible, but he didn't comment. Mackenzie looked up to see his eyes almost shut.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Haven't you ever done that? Squint your eyes until your eyelashes are together. See how the lights turn into rays that go all over the place?"
"Oh." Mackenzie's voice was awed. "It's like stars."
They sat and did this together for a while until Mackenzie needed to use the bathroom. The flush of the toilet right next to their bedroom brought Delancey out, and both girls snuggled with their father in the big chair. He tried to keep them quiet, but his effort was an utter failure. Soft giggles turned to full laughter, and before long both their great grandmother and mother emerged from their rooms.
"I'm sorry, Grandma," Marrell said apologetically.
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"Oh, Marrell, for mercy's sake," her grandmother responded in soft rebuke, "I can sleep for a month when you're gone. How many times can I do this? Delancey and Mackenzie, you come with me to the kitchen. We've got coffee and sweet rolls to put on."
"And presents?"
"Presents are right after that. Come on now."
The girls didn't need to be asked twice. Marrell took their place in Paul's lap, and even from the living room they could hear the girls' delighted voices and laughter.
"I wish they could enjoy some of your family the way they do Grandma."
Paul stiffened for a moment but relaxed when Marrell said nothing else. Paul was the black sheep of the family; not because he'd run wild at any point in his life, but because he had joined the Army and not the family business. On top of that, there was his marriage to Marrell. The family had cast their disapproval before even meeting her, and when they did meet her, one of his brothers had made a pass at her.
Never very close to his two older brothers and one sister, Paul had written them off.
"It's their loss, Mary. They'll probably never know you or the girls, but that's their loss, not ours. I stopped sending cards and gifts to them a long time ago because they were never acknowledged. I'm not going to waste my time any longer."
"But what of Micki and D.J., Paul? I just ache that they've never seen where you grew up or played with any of their cousins."
"Have you forgotten what my brother said to you or the way he watched you?" he responded irritably. "I wouldn't trust him around the girls."
"He was drunk," Marrell said mildly. "And I'm sure he'll remember the broken nose you gave him for a long time."
Both of them fell silent. It was not the way they wanted to begin their Christmas. Marrell decided Paul was right. After all, it was his family. If he didn't want to push the point, then she didn't either. Her recollection of their time with them now came fully back to mind. Paul's mother was a strange woman. It had been very difficult indeed. Why would she want to put herself through that again?
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"If you really want to, we can call them today."
"No," Marrell shook her head. "It's your family, Paul. You do what's comfortable for you. I can't stand the thought that they might meet the girls, disapprove, and hurt them. I'm willing to let it go unless you want us to do something."
Paul reached up and pulled her head very close. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I have you, and I have the girls, Mary. That's all I need."
The words did Marrell's heart a world of good, but moments later, when Pearl and the girls paraded in with breakfast on a tray, the odd emptiness that Marrell often felt inside suddenly surfaced. She pushed it away. This wasn't a time to think about that. The hour was early, and she was tired-that was all. This was a day to be enjoyed t
o the fullest. All too soon it would be time to head home.
San Antonio Early May 1977
"I've got the movers coming June 10. Does that figure right?"
"I think so," Paul replied, looking over Marrell's shoulder at the calendar of events. He knew that time would move swiftly, but it was hard to believe they would be gone in less than a month.
"How is the packing going?"
"It's all right. I really purged when it came to the girls' clothes, since it's not as warm there year-round. Anything too summery that I didn't think would fit them by fall went into the bag for charity. I wonder what the PX out there will be like?"
"I didn't think to ask. I did ask about karate studios though."
"You did?" Marrell replied, sounding very pleased.
"Yes, and there seems to be a wide variety. I think we'll just get out the phone book when we get there. Did you think to ask Mr. Schaller for a recommendation?"
"I didn't, but that's a good idea."
The words were no more out of Marrell's mouth than the air split with a scream. Their heads shot up, and they both made a dash for the living room. Delancey beat them to it. She was tearing down the stairs, hand over her face, her nose streaming blood.
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"What happened?" Marrell cried as she guided Delancey into the kitchen and reached for a cloth. She wet it at the sink and tried to understand what her nearly hysterical daughter was saying. In the midst of the commotion, Mackenzie came into the room and leaned casually against the wall.
"Calm down, Delancey," Paul now tried. "What happened?"
"She punched me" were the first intelligible words they heard.
"What?" Marrell mouthed in stunned disbelief. Surely she had heard wrong. She continued to mop up the blood as well as stem the flow, getting ice from the freezer to help with that while Paul focused on a line of questioning.
"All right now, D.J., what really happened?"
"Mackenzie punched me."
Paul turned to his other daughter. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she looked defiant.
"Is that true, Micki?" Marrell was the first to ask. "Did you punch D.J. in the nose?"
"Yes."
Marrell's mouth fell open for a moment.
"For heaven's sake, Mackenzie! Paul, what are we going to do? What if it's broken?"
"It's not broken." The words came from Mackenzie's mouth before anyone else could say a word.
"You don't know that," Marrell snapped. She was angry now, at her daughterandat her husband, who had not said a word.
"Yes, I do. If I had wanted to break it, I would have."
With those words Marrell was shocked into speechlessness. While she watched, Mackenzie spoke rather calmly to Delancey.
"I told you I don't want you kicking around my face, Delancey, and I meant it."
"I won't do it anymore," Delancey responded in a subdued voice.
Mackenzie pushed off from the wall she'd been leaning against and left the room. Thinking she could scream, Marrell continued to mop up Delancey's face and clothes. A few moments of silence passed before she was sure the bleeding had stopped. Marrell stripped off her daughter's top in order to treat the bloodstains and then told Delancey she could go upstairs and put on something else. She looked to Paul as soon as Delancey was gone, and when she saw a gleam in his eye, she let him have it.
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"Do not tell me that you think this is funny, Paul Bishop!"
He looked at her with maddening calm. "Not funny exactly, but I am a little proud of Micki."
"You can't be serious! ShepunchedDelancey in the nose. What in the world is there to be proud of?"
"Marrell, Micki takes a lot off of D.J. and all of her moods. I don't think it's all bad that Delancey gets put in her place once in a while."
Marrell's mouth dropped open once again. "You're condoning this?"
"No, I'm not. I'll talk to Micki, but I could see by D.J.'s attitude that Micki had made her point. She would make a good soldier."
Marrell's eyes shot sparks before she whipped around and began to work on Delancey's top. Paul knew he would have to mend fences before the night was over, but for now he had a daughter to talk to-one with a mean right hook.
The air was hot and still as father and daughter left the apartment. Delancey had walked all the way downstairs to watch them go but wasn't invited. Paul planned to speak to her as well, but Mackenzie was first.
"Do you think you'll miss this base?"
Mackenzie shrugged. She was still trying to figure out whether she was going to be spanked.
"You must have some opinion."
"What's 'opinion'?"
"How you feel. Will you miss the base or not?"
"I will a little. I like my teacher."
"How about the apartment?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I want my own room."
"I can understand that. Tell me, Micki, do you ever think about the work that goes on here?"
"On the base?"
"Yes."
"Sometimes."
"What do you think about it?"
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"I don't know. Sometimes I wonder why. I mean you go to an office, and I don't know why you need all these guns and stuff if you work in an office."
Paul smiled and reminded himself that hehadasked.
"You make a good point, Micki. All these guns would be very dangerous if they weren't controlled." They had come to a fence. When they stopped Paul turned and looked down at his dark- haired daughter. "A person's fists can be dangerous too. That's why they have to be controlled."
"Like when I hit Delancey."
"That's right. I can already see that you would make a great soldier, Micki, but soldiers have to control themselves. They have to make themselves do things they don't want to do,andthey have to stop themselves from doing what sometimes seems right."
Mackenzie looked up at him, her eyes on his face.
"Do you know what I'm talking about?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now what should you have done?"
"Come to you or Mom."
"That's right. You need to remember that for next time, or I'll punish you."
Mackenzie nodded. He meant it. Her mother did much of the discipline in their house, but that didn't mean their father never took care of it, and he spanked hard.
"We need to go back to the apartment so you can apologize to your sister."
"Does D.J. have to apologize to me?" There was a tone in her voice he didn't like.
"I will talk with D.J., Micki, but I'm telling you, no matter what she does, you do not punch her in the nose. Do you hear me?"
"Yes. I hate karate."
"I know you do, but your sister enjoys it, and she's very good. You need to be glad for her and proud of her."
Mackenzie nodded. Delancey was good, and she was proud of her, but she didn't want to be practiced on.
Without further ado Paul led the way back to the apartment. He told Mackenzie to head to her room and then found Delancey. The three ended up in the girls' room and were sequestered behind closed doors for quite some time. Indeed, it got so late
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that they appeared in the kitchen, teeth brushed, and pajama- clad, to kiss their mother goodnight. Marrell was happy to see them getting along, but not for anything would she ask what happened.
Another ten minutes passed before she looked up from her magazine to see a white handkerchief waving around the corner.
"May I come in?" Paul stepped around the wall and stood at the edge of the kitchen, his face open and relaxed.
"Yes, but don't expect me to notice that white flag. I'm still mad at you." This was only a little bit true.
"Don't you want to know what I said to them?" Paul asked as he sat down across the kitchen table from her.
"No. I'm afraid you told Mackenzie that she would be a great soldier and to keep up the good work."
"I did tell Mackenzie tha
t she would be a great soldier, but I would never tell her to punch people."
Marrell finally looked at him. "What did you say?"
"I just talked to her about control. And when I had them together, I told them what I would do to their backsides if in the future D.J. starts throwing kicks or Micki starts delivering punches."
"Did you know that D.J. had been kicking at Mackenzie?" Marrell sounded as confused and upset as she felt.
"No, and from what I gather, she's been doing it since she began to train."
"Micki's never said a word."
Husband and wife looked at each other. Both of their daughters were talented and special, and at times one of them was a little old beyond her years.
"The thought that they could hurt each other really scares me. We live in such a violent world, Paul, and I've wanted to spare them as much as possible."
"And you're doing a good job. D.J. cried. I'm not sure she realized how much Mackenzie hates it when she kicks toward her. And when Mackenzie said she was sorry, she meant it."
Marrell nodded.
"Still mad?"
"Furious."
"Maybe we should kiss and make up."
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"Maybe we should."
After eleven and a half years it was still fun to flirt with her husband, who was already headed around the table. Marrell's heart warned her that she had better enjoy it now. In a month's time, when he was getting settled into a new posting, he would be distracted with the new job.
San Francisco
The Bishops' first day in the city that was to be their new home was spectacular. The June sun was warm over a cloudless sky, and for once the wind was tame. Planning to follow directions, they stayed on Highway 101, which swung them down Nineteenth Avenue and actually curved around part of the Presidio before their exit.
"Will we see the Golden Gate Bridge?" Mackenzie wanted to know. When her teacher had learned where she was moving, her class had done a short study on San Francisco. Mackenzie had been most impressed with the bridge.
"I think we probably will," her father told her, "so keep your eyes open."
Moments after he said this, they drove off the highway, sat for half a minute at the light with dozens of other vehicles, and then drove down Nineteenth where the sights grew a little more interesting.