Down by the River

by Robyn Carr

  Frank looked at him but didn’t say anything.

  “I know what it’s like to be mad all the time, too,” he said. “And I also know the damn craziness of it being Christmas, and even though you still hate the son of a bitch, you wish he was around sometimes. Doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

  “Does everybody know that about you?” Frank asked.

  “I think so. We never tried to hide it, my mother or me. That’s why she likes working in Child Protective Services, where she can help.”

  “Wow,” Frank said. One of the hardest things for him was that everyone knew. Wherever he went, he felt that people looked at him, thinking, There goes that kid who’s jackass father used to beat up the whole family till his mother killed him. “Everybody knows about me. About my family.” He looked over at Ricky. “I mean, there was a trial.”

  Ricky didn’t respond to that. It was beside the point. If they got together in this program, there would be plenty of time to talk about that stuff, to meet with other big brothers and their little brothers and share experiences and, better still, share solutions to their coping problems.

  “There’re lots of guys like us,” Ricky said.

  They rode together quietly for a little while. Sometimes not talking with someone can be as important and revealing as trying to talk it all out. Frank had been with people who understood his situation, like his mom and George. Like Tom Toopeek and the counselor, Jerry Powell. And then there was that anger-management group, full of pissed-off teenage boys just like him. But this was the very first time he was with a guy like Ricky—a guy he secretly thought was awesome—and they had come from the same place of pain! That gave Frank hope he could end up having a cool life after all. He had started to think that wasn’t ever possible for him. He thought he was doomed.

  “So, what do people in this brothers thing do?” Frank asked.

  “Mostly we like to keep it simple and just have fun. We have some organized sports in summer—softball, soccer and volleyball. But everyone’s busy, so there’s no pressure. We might catch a movie, get together with some of the guys and go to the lake, whatever we want. I want to get you in the program as soon as possible because I really think your little brothers are going to need that, too, as they get a little older.” He looked over at Frank and grinned. “You have any idea how many times, growing up, I could have used a big brother?”

  “Man,” Frank said, overwhelmed. “Life is just one big piñata after another.”

  “I guess that’s a good thing?” Ricky asked, feeling every bit of thirty next to this kid.

  “Yeah, it’s a good thing,” he said. And then he smiled. A rare thing for Frank.

  Christmas Eve started out with the usual damp air and threatening skies, but with the temperature dropping, there was every possibility for snow. When John called June and asked her if she had time to dash over to the clinic to put some sutures in little Robbie Gilmore’s chin, Jim insisted on riding along in case she ran into trouble. “It’s slick out there,” he said. “I’m not taking any chances on Christmas Eve.”

  She never saw it coming. Even when she pulled into town and there were cars everywhere, she still didn’t get it.

  “Drop me off in front of the café,” Jim said. “I’m going to see what’s going on while you put your stitches in.”

  “Well, wait a minute,” she argued. “I want to know, too!”

  “Do your stitches first!” he ordered, jumping out of the truck.

  Pouting like a punished child, June parked behind the clinic. With all those cars and trucks in the church and café parking spaces, she couldn’t tell if the Gilmores had arrived or not. She went into the clinic, turned on the lights, and scribbled a message on a sticky note. She stuck it on the unlocked clinic door. “I’m at the café. June.”

  Although June knew she was loved, she was always a little naive about how much. She knew the townsfolk appreciated her, as they appreciated her dad and John Stone, but she had trouble grasping that there was a difference. June was their girl, born and bred in Grace Valley. Her patients were her lifelong friends, her town and its people her first priority no matter what, whether she was in love or lonely, whether she was feeling great or ill, no matter what. And they knew that, and did not take it for granted.

  So when she walked in the café, they got her.

  “Surprise!” they shouted.

  Her hands went to her face to hide her open mouth, then to her stomach to guard the baby from the shock of it.

  She had never seen the place so full. There were streamers and balloons, presents everywhere and absolutely every person she loved.

  Jim separated himself from the crowd, pulling a woman toward June. “June, honey, I have a surprise. This is my sister Annie.”

  June was so stunned, so touched, all she could do was say, “Oh!” and reach for the woman to hug her. They’d spoken on the phone a couple of times, talked of wanting to meet, but there had never been so much as a whisper of a plan.

  “And here is her husband, Mike, and daughter, Tracy, and this one we call Mo because he’s Mike Junior.”

  “Mo?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” the fifteen-year-old said, grinning. “For Mo Mike.”

  For some reason, she hadn’t thought about something as obvious as a baby shower. It hadn’t crossed her mind. There was so much else going on, what with Christmas. And there were other things to divert her attention, like Morton’s return, like Nancy and Chris having their problems. And there was Harry, she remembered.

  How had they done this? she wondered as she was led to the place of honor. So secretly, without giving off a single hint? How had Jim gotten his family here without going to the airport? Clearly there were conspirators and co-conspirators galore.

  The presents went on forever, but there were two gifts that stood out in her mind. One was the quilt, lovingly designed and sewn by her circle of friends. It depicted in beautiful appliqué blocks the life of June Hudson: a baby in the arms of her mother with her father looking on; jumping rope with what had to be Tom Toopeek and Chris Forrest each holding an end; a twelve-year-old girl in an arm cast standing under a large tree with a tree house in it and two boys peeking out the windows; June in her cheerleading uniform with pom-poms; a med student carrying books with a stethoscope around her neck; and finally, in the center block, June standing at the forest’s edge with Jim. A story quilt, lovingly created by her dearest friends.

  The other gift waited for her at home and she wouldn’t find out about it until much later.

  They celebrated, ate cake and filled the back of the truck with gifts for June and the baby. Jim and Mike took all the new things plus the out-of-towner’s luggage back to June’s to unload and set up the baby’s room as a guest room and lay out sleeping bags in the attic loft for the kids. June and Annie went to Elmer’s to work on Christmas Eve dinner.

  “I’ve never seen my brother look happier,” Annie told June.

  “Well, if you had known me before today, you’d be saying the same of me.” They put both leaves in the dining table and began putting out plates. “This is the best Christmas I’ve had since my mother was alive.”

  “How long has she been gone, June?”

  “Nine years now. But it still seems like yesterday.”

  “We lost our mom about a dozen years ago. And our dad not long after, so I think I know how you might feel.”

  “Annie, are you okay with the fact that Jim and I haven’t married?” she boldly asked.

  Annie shrugged. “I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I understand you haven’t really known each other all that long. Not a year yet, is it?”

  “That’s right,” June said gratefully. At least here was someone who understood the basic reason for patience. “I’m having a little trouble getting my dad and my godmother, Birdie, to understand. But they’re older….”

  Annie laughed softly. “Don’t worry about them, June. The one you have to figure out how to explain this to is your
son or daughter.”

  June froze. Something leaden weighted down her arms and legs. “Son,” she said quietly.

  Then, as if on cue, Mo burst into the house through the kitchen door, Tracy on his heels. Their jackets were covered with the damp glistening of snowflakes. Their faces were flush with excitement, eyes aglitter and cheeks charged red. “Mom!” Mo yelled. “It’s snowing! Doc says it only snows about once every twenty years on Christmas!”

  “That means good luck, doesn’t it, Mom?” Tracy asked.

  Annie put an arm around June’s shoulders and said, “Definitely!”

  June held on to her swollen stomach.

  Through dinner Jim’s family was entertained with town and family stories, from the barely returned Morton Claypool to the ghost at Angel’s Pass rumored to have helped motorists in trouble over the decades. Though it was late by the time they all made the journey back to June’s, no one was tired in the least, not even June.

  Jim had something to show her, and took her by the hand to the bedroom where the cherry cradle sat next to her side of the bed. “You made this?” she asked, stunned.

  Right behind them in the doorway, Annie said, “You made that? You did?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  Mike pushed through the door. “Hey. You made that? You?”

  “Yeah. Me.”

  Tracy and Mo shoved in. “Whoa, Uncle Jim! You build things? You?”

  “Come on, you didn’t do that!”

  “Jeez! I did, too! I had a little help, but I did it myself!”

  “Wow.” His doubtful family laughed. “Who knew?”

  “It’s beautiful, Jim,” June said. “So beautiful.”

  “You’ll have to excuse us,” Annie said. “Not only has he never done anything like hang wallpaper or build furniture, he’s been living out of a suitcase for about twenty years.”

  “Well, I’m not living out of a suitcase anymore,” he said, and pulled June into his arms. “I’m all domesticated!”

  Sadie, a little excited by the teenagers, barked her approval and madly wagged her tail. “Go, Uncle Jim,” Mo cheered.

  Deep in the night, finally abed, June and Jim lay close and whispered. “It was the best Christmas Eve of my life,” she said. “I wish my mom were here.”

  “She’s watching, don’t worry. Mothers are not only tenacious, they’re very nosy.”

  “Then you better put some clothes on,” she giggled.

  “Forget it. I’m not moving.”

  “I love your family,” she said. “Annie’s the best.”

  “She’s bossy.”

  “I love her. I like it when she bosses you.”

  “It’s a conspiracy.”

  “The kids are awesome. Whoever heard of such nice, funny teenagers? They don’t even fight!”

  “Yes, they do. Just wait.”

  “Mike’s a jewel.”

  “He’s a good guy….”

  They lay there listening to the sounds in the house. Sadie had abandoned them to go up to the loft where the teens were camped. They lured her with doggie treats, then put her between them where she shamelessly rolled onto her back so they could rub her stomach. Every so often there would be a thump and a giggle from up there.

  “Do they ever sleep?” she asked.

  She was answered with a snore, so she began to doze. She was having a pleasant dream in which a youngster in his early teens with the same curly brown hair Jim had was talking to her in the kitchen of her little house. She was somewhere between imagining life with her son and dreaming about it. And then the young man said, “What do you mean you didn’t know Dad very well?” and her eyes flew open. She bolted upright in bed.

  “What was I thinking?” she said aloud.

  “What? What? What is it?” Jim asked through groggy semiconsciousness.

  “Jim, we have to get married!”

  He shook his head sleepily. “What?”

  “We have to get married right away!”

  He would never understand pregnant women. “What brought this on?”

  “Teenagers,” she said, starting to get out of bed. He grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Bright-eyed, she stared at him. “Jim, what are we going to tell our son about why we didn’t get married?”

  He frowned at her for a moment. It was like it was her job to keep him off balance. Confused. She drove him crazy sometimes. And he was mad about her. “We’ll just tell him the truth, that by the time his mother was ready, it was Christmas Eve, we didn’t have a license and the town preacher was on the lam.”

  She considered this half seriously for a moment and then grabbed her pillow and whacked him in the head with it.

  Seventeen

  June’s family and friends gathered at Hudson House for Christmas Day, where presents had mysteriously appeared for Annie, Mike and the kids. It seemed that Jim had been planning this with his sister for quite a while. Elmer, June and Annie did all the cooking, in fact brought all the food, and the Barstows were invited and treated like special guests. Mo and Tracy kept Myrna busy showing them the house and her millions of collectibles all day long. They appeared at Christmas dinner in full costume, Tracy in a ball gown and feather boa, Mo in an old tuxedo and top hat.

  When they all gathered at the table for the Christmas feast, Jim clinked his glass and stood. “I have an announcement and a toast,” he said. “First, for all ye of little faith, June Hudson has consented to be my wife at the earliest possible convenience.” Cheers went up around the table, and everyone, one at a time, got up and made their way to kiss and congratulate the couple. When they all settled back in their chairs, he said, “I would like to toast family, large and small, old and new—” he looked down at June “—carefully planned and out of the blue!”

  Around Grace Valley, families celebrated in their own personal ways. At the Mulls’, Clarence was present again. This time he came for Christmas Eve and stayed over for Christmas Day. It was obvious he was much improved and he talked of coming home permanently very soon.

  Erline and the little ones were at the Mulls’ table for dinner, but didn’t overstay, for at her house—her very first house—there was a tree with presents for the children, and it was a great comfort to be there, warmed by the wood stove. Sam checked in, bringing yet more gifts, and so did Ricky Rios, bringing a greater gift than she could have dared hope for. Corsica had managed to get a voucher for electricity repair and appliances for the house. With a home she could heat, work she could learn and friends whose generosity she could never possibly repay, her life had officially turned around.

  Sam took his holiday meal with Standard Roberts and his daughters. The Toopeeks were just their family without visiting aunts, uncles and cousins, but even on their own they were a formidable group. Leah Craven was able to put a nice meal on the table and a few welcome gifts under the tree, thanks to a Christmas bonus from George. George, of course, provided free meals for both Christmas Eve and Day. There was nothing that made him happier. And the Stones celebrated with the Dicksons, a very loud and happy affair.

  Judge and Birdie were with Chris, Nancy and the twins. The boys were getting around well in both wheelchairs and on crutches, and they were getting antsy, too. Their cabin fever was evidence of their improved health. Another month would have them back at school.

  Late on Christmas Day, when Judge and Birdie had gone home and the twins were settled in front of a video, Chris migrated back to his wood shop. Nancy followed. She found him sanding down a coffee table. She wondered if someone had ordered that from him or if he had just decided to whip one up and see if it could sell.

  “I thought I might find you here,” she said. “Can’t you even spend Christmas with us in the house?”

  “I spent Christmas with you. All day.”

  “Can’t you put this aside for one day?” she asked.

  “Why?” he asked. “What difference does it make? You’re not going to talk to me, anyway. I might as well be out here.”

&
nbsp; “It just drives me crazy,” she said, running a hand through her thick brown hair. “I can’t deal with it.”

  “It?”

  “This,” she said, sweeping an arm wide, indicating the workshop. She’d tried to think of it in terms of what was good for Chris, but she kept coming back to what was good for the marriage, the family. It seemed so irresponsible to her that she couldn’t take him seriously.

  “I remember a time you really believed in me. It was a long time ago, but I remember.”

  “Chris, I still believe in you. It’s just that—”

  “Nancy, do you still love me?” he asked her.

  “I’ll always love you, Chris,” she said, the sound of tears creeping into her voice. “But how can you just blow off your job for…for…this!” She took a steadying breath, trying not to cry. “Do you even have a plan?”

  “Yes, Nancy, I have a plan. It’s to take one day at a time and take every job related to building that I can get. Is that enough of a plan for you?”

  She couldn’t believe he was proposing something as ridiculous as that. Just go day to day? Pick up odd jobs? “What if there’s another accident, Chris? What if someone gets sick? Where’s the medical coverage going to come from?”

  He wiped his hands on a rag and leaned a hip up against his worktable. “The kids are making great progress. Pretty soon, you could get a regular job. We’d be all right.”