Every Girl Gets Confused

by Janice Thompson

“My lady. But of course.” He gave her a little wink and her cheeks flushed as she tottered off down the hallway in search of the restroom.

  Eduardo paused the movie and looked our way. “So, what do you think of it? The movie, I mean?”

  “Doris is fabulous in this one,” I said. “Then again, she was great in every movie.”

  “Yes, but that poor girl was pigeonholed,” he said. “She knew it, and the rest of us did too.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “She played the same character in nearly every movie. And I’m not sure she liked it either. I have a feeling she wanted something different from her life.”

  “Doesn’t everyone?” Brady asked.

  “Oh, but that’s why we love her movies so much,” I said. “We know just what we’re gonna get. She’s always paired up with the wrong fella. And she always has to somehow convince herself that the wrong fella is the right fella.”

  “Yes.” Eduardo nodded. “They are perfect for each other, but they are polar opposites. Funny how God works, isn’t it?”

  As if to punctuate his words, Alva chose that very moment to reenter the room. She stopped and stared at all of us when we looked her way.

  “What did I miss?”

  “Just saying that opposites attract, sweet lady.” Eduardo extended his hand and she took it.

  They settled back into their recliners—hands tightly clutched—and the movie started again. I reached for Brady’s hand, my thoughts fixed on what Eduardo had said. Yes indeed, opposites did attract. And the fella seated directly to my left? Well, he and I were living proof of that.

  25

  Ready, Willing and Able

  She [Doris Day] was always smiling and had the rare quality of making people feel good just by being near her.

  Martha Hyer

  On the afternoon of December 24th, with Nadia on a plane back to Paris, Brady and Alva and I made the drive to Fairfield to spend the holiday with my family. Technically, I drove while Brady listened to a game on the radio and Alva snored in the backseat. We arrived at my parents’ house around three and I lugged my gifts into the house with Brady’s help. Now that his knee was healing up, I could ask for his assistance without feeling guilty.

  That evening we ate at Sam’s—our usual place to dine on Christmas Eve—then went to the service at the Methodist church. Might’ve seemed a bit weird, a bunch of Baptists and Presbyterians going to church with the Methodists, but they were the only ones who had a Christmas Eve service and we loved attending. As long as no one served us that infamous prune juice punch. I still couldn’t get that taste out of my mouth. Or my mind.

  On Christmas Eve night Brady slept on the sleeper sofa in my dad’s office and I shared my childhood bedroom with Aunt Alva, who kept me up most of the night tossing and turning and talking in her sleep. When she started talking out loud to Eduardo, who was spending the night at the Super 8 and would be joining us for the Christmas festivities, I couldn’t help but giggle. I had to put the pillow over my head to keep from waking her.

  The following morning I awoke early, as I’d done so many other Christmases in the past. I slipped on my robe and headed to the kitchen to help Mama with breakfast—our usual Christmas morning fare, crepes with strawberries and whipped cream. I loved this tradition.

  “I’m so glad you and Pop are home for Christmas.” I prepped the skillet and poured some crepe batter inside.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. It’s fun to travel—and we have a lot of adventures ahead, trust me—but there’s no place like home for the holidays.”

  Aunt Alva’s warbling voice rang out behind us, sounding a bit off-key. I didn’t mind a bit. A cheery “Good morning” kicked off my conversation with her.

  “Good morning to you too, Katie Sue.” A smile turned up the edges of her lips. “Merry Christmas. I sure hope everyone slept as well as I did. I had the loveliest dreams.”

  Um, yeah. Should I tell her she’d called me Eduardo? Nah, better not.

  Speaking of Eduardo, the doorbell rang seconds later and I opened the door to find him on the other side, arms loaded with gifts. “Merry Christmas, Katie! Would you help me with these?”

  “Oh, you shouldn’t have, Eduardo,” I scolded as I took several of the presents from the top of the stack.

  “I have ulterior motives, trust me.” He grinned. “A few of those are for someone special. And I have something else for her in the car. I must go get it.”

  “Just let yourself back in. We’ll be in the kitchen. She’s helping Mama with the crepes.”

  “Such a kind woman, that Alva.” He headed back to his car, and I went into the kitchen.

  “So, what’s the plan around here?” Alva asked. “This is my first Christmas with the family.”

  “I guess it is, isn’t it?” Mama stopped her work to give Alva a pensive look. She slipped her arm around Auntie’s shoulders. “You’re such a natural part of the family that it feels like you’ve been with us for ages. I can’t believe this is your first Christmas with us.”

  “Glad to be here. You have no idea. My Christmas mornings were usually pretty quiet. Lonely. The first few years, anyway. After a while I started working at a homeless shelter, handing out gifts and feeding folks. I really learned to appreciate the spirit of giving. But being with family would always be my first choice. Just don’t let me get in the way.”

  “Never.”

  “What can I do to help?” she asked.

  “We’re pretty laid-back in the morning, if you want the truth of it. We don’t open presents until after lunch. You okay with that?”

  “Yep. That reminds me—I left all of my presents in the trunk of Katie’s new car.”

  “Nope, Brady brought them in last night, Aunt Alva,” I said. “He put them all under the tree.”

  “Oh dear. I forgot to put name tags on a few of them. Hope we get it all sorted out. Might be a big fiasco if we don’t.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” Mama started more batter for the crepes. “I’m surprised Queenie and Reverend Bradford aren’t here yet. I could’ve sworn I heard someone at the door a few minutes ago. They’re supposed to bring the strawberries. I can’t abide crepes without fresh fruit on top.”

  “They are newlyweds, you know.” Alva winked. “Perhaps they’re preoccupied.”

  That stopped Mama in her tracks. “Well, if they don’t come soon we’ll have to thaw some blueberries from the freezer. Just remember, Crystal is bringing scones. She should be here soon.”

  Just about the time we’d given up on Queenie and Reverend Bradford, they arrived. I couldn’t help but notice that my grandmother didn’t appear to be limping as much as before. Her knee was healing, thank goodness. I knew that Alva and Mama would probably pressure them for details about their honeymoon in Galveston, but I stayed out of it. Well, as much as possible.

  “Merry Christmas, Fisher family!” Queenie set the berries down on the kitchen counter and waited for her new husband to take her coat. He helped her off with it and then carried it to the coat closet in the front hall.

  “You’ve certainly got him trained.” Alva gave an admiring nod. “Nice work, if I do say so myself. Does he happen to have an available brother, perhaps? A cousin?”

  We all laughed.

  Okay, not everyone laughed.

  “There will be no need for a brother or a cousin.” Eduardo’s voice rang out from behind the throng of people.

  “W-what?” Alva looked perplexed. “Who said that?”

  The waters parted, and he walked straight up to Alva and handed her an exquisite bouquet of red roses. “Merry Christmas, Alva. I thought these would brighten the room.”

  “I . . . I . . .” She stared at the roses, unable to speak. Her eyes flooded with tears. “I’m a million years old and I’ve never received flowers from a man before.”

  “I recall hearing that once before.” Eduardo gave her a wistful look. “And I’m glad to be the one to break that cycle.”

&
nbsp; “For pity’s sake.” She stood there holding the flowers as if frozen in place.

  Brady broke the silence when he entered the room, still looking a little groggy. “What did I miss?” His gaze shifted to the flowers in Alva’s hands. “Aw, you shouldn’t have, Alva.”

  “I—I didn’t.” Her eyes flooded with tears.

  “Let’s put those in some water.” Mama eased them out of Alva’s hands and reached into one of the upper cabinets for a vase. “This’ll do just fine. We’ll use these as a centerpiece.” She fussed over the flowers, finally marching them to the dining room and putting them squarely in the middle of the table, alongside the plastic nativity set. “That’s just fine.”

  “It’s more than fine.” Alva still stood rooted, eyes brimming. “It’s . . . it’s downright lovely.”

  “Why, thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.” Eduardo slipped his arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad you like them, Alva.”

  “What’s not to like? They’re perfect.”

  “Just like their recipient.”

  “Looks like Eduardo’s a gentleman, like my Paul,” Queenie said. “I never have to ask him to do things like that. He opens doors for me, gets my coat, even takes out the trash.”

  I heard the sound of male voices and turned to discover my brothers had arrived with their respective ladies. Jasper didn’t have far to travel, his bedroom being on the second floor and all. Same with Dewey, but he hadn’t shown up last night, so I had a sneaking suspicion he’d spent the night in Dallas at Beau’s place. Nevertheless, they were all here now, the boys and their girls.

  “I hope you’re paying attention, boys,” Queenie said. “A woman wants a man who’ll take out the trash.”

  “Take out the trash.” Jasper yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Got it.”

  “And opening doors for a lady might not be fashionable, but it’s still a grand idea, to my way of thinking,” Queenie said. “Capiche?”

  “Capiche.” Jasper nodded. “Trust me, Crystal’s got me trained. She’s from the South, so she’s used to manners.”

  “You might have to work on that Dahlia girl a bit, Dewey,” Queenie said. “She’s not from around these parts, so she might not cotton to a fella who treats her like a princess. But she’ll come around in time.”

  “Yep. Got it. Treat her like a princess. I think she’ll be okay with that.” Dewey gave us a thumbs-up.

  “We don’t have to tell you a thing, do we, baby boy?” She pinched Beau on the cheeks. “Such a sweet one you are. I know you’re treating Twiggy like a lady.”

  The other boys rolled their eyes.

  Everyone looked at Brady as if expecting him to chime in. He put his hands up in the air. “Hey, all I can say is I try to remember to be a gentleman. I don’t always get it right, but I try. My mama raised me right.”

  “Is it getting weird in here?” Pop entered the kitchen still dressed in his pajamas with his hair sticking up on top of his head. “People are being too nice. Mostly the guys.”

  “They are just being gentlemen, Herb.” My mother rolled her eyes. “Is it so hard to believe some men treat their ladies in gentlemanly fashion?”

  “Hey now . . .” He scratched his backside and yawned. “Who else took his woman on a cruise to see the turtles in the Galápagos Islands?” His gaze traveled from Reverend Bradford to Eduardo and then back again. “I see there’s silence in the court. Yours truly did that, thank you very much.” He gave Mama a passionate kiss, then slapped her on the rear end. “You’re welcome.”

  “Well, I never!” Mama’s face turned pink.

  “Nope. I guess you never got kissed like that in front of the family, but it’s high time they see that the old people still have their spark.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Mama said.

  “I am.” Pop gave her a wink and left the room.

  Eduardo turned to look at me, his eyes widening. “And that, I assume, is your father?”

  “Um, yeah. He should’ve come with a warning label.”

  “What he lacks in gentlemanly skills, he certainly makes up for in passion.” Mama adjusted the collar of her blouse. “My goodness, it’s hot in here.”

  Brady started laughing and couldn’t seem to get control of himself. He finally had to leave the room. In fact, all of the guys took that as their cue to head to the living room for some guy time. That left us ladies alone in the kitchen.

  “So, married life is agreeing with you, Queenie?” Twiggy asked. “You sure look radiant.” She giggled.

  My grandmother’s response surprised me. Her eyes welled with tears. “Indeed. I feel like a young bride. It’s all been so wonderful.”

  “All of it?” Alva asked, her thinly plucked brows elevating with mischief.

  “There’s not time to tell the whole tale right now,” Queenie said. “But I will give you one word of advice: if you ever visit the Tremont Hotel in Galveston, do not ask for the honeymoon suite.”

  “Why not?” Mama asked.

  “Let’s just leave it at this: the bed was high off the ground. Now, I’m a tall woman, but having to climb steps to get into bed, when your knee is as locked up as mine? Quite the conundrum. And don’t even get me started on the marble floor in the bathroom. We got out of the—I mean, I got out of the shower and slid all the way across the bathroom floor.”

  We stared in silence at her, eyes wide.

  “C-crepes, anyone?” Mama’s voice cracked as she held up the platter.

  Several minutes later we gathered around the table. Pop said the blessing and Jasper attempted to steal the first scone while no one was looking. But I was looking—just a little peek. I stuck out my tongue at him and he chuckled, which caused Queenie to clear her throat. All of this mid-prayer.

  To my left, Brady sat quietly. Well, until Pop said, “Amen.” Then he reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. I thought about how different today was from Thanksgiving four short weeks ago. Having Brady here made everything better. He was the strawberry topping on my crepe, the whipped cream on my scone, the butter on my . . .

  Anyway, he made everything better.

  The conversation around the breakfast table centered on two things: the gifts we would be opening and lunch, which would be served at one o’clock. Ham, au gratin potatoes, green bean casserole, and a variety of other dishes. I kept an eye on Brady, who really seemed to be enjoying himself. Every few minutes he would look my way and give me a reassuring smile. How far he’d come in the past few weeks. He’d made tremendous strides. I could feel it.

  When breakfast ended, the guys disappeared into the yard to look at Pop’s old boat. That left us ladies alone in the kitchen to clean up. I didn’t really mind. Apparently Mama and Alva still had quite a few questions for Queenie, who seemed oblivious.

  “So?” Alva tossed her a dish towel. “Spill it.”

  “Spill what?” Queenie grabbed a clean plate and dried it with the towel.

  Alva put her hands on her hips and stared her sister down. “Are you serious?”

  “About what?” Queenie kept drying the plate, not even looking our way.

  “Do I have to spell it out for you?” Alva asked. “You tell us that you and Paul slide out of the shower and nearly kill yourselves on the marble floor, but you stop the story right there? Well, what was it like?”

  “What was what like?” Queenie’s brows wrinkled more than usual. Just as quickly a flash of recognition lit her face. “Oh, you want to know about the wedding night?”

  “Duh!” Mama, Alva, Twiggy, Crystal, and Dahlia spoke in unison. I did my best to keep putting dishes away to avoid the embarrassment that was yet to come. Were we really about to go there?

  “I’ll start by sharing one huge relief.” Queenie put the plate down and gestured with her index finger for us to listen close. “I didn’t have to worry about my mushy old body. Not one little bit.”

  “You mean he didn’t care about the saggy boobs and such?” Alva’s eyes widened. “That gives me gr
eat hope.”

  “Nope.” Queenie slapped her thigh and laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that exactly. I’m just saying that once the man took his glasses off, he couldn’t see a thing. For all he knew, I was Angelina Jolie.”

  We all busted out laughing. All but Queenie, who shook her head. “Then again, the man has hands, and I’m pretty sure this old skin doesn’t feel anything like Angelina Jolie’s.” She grabbed hold of her hips and jiggled them. “See there? See what I mean? There’s a lot of elastic in this old skin. Angelina doesn’t have to deal with that.”

  “Yet.” Mama quirked a brow.

  Queenie shrugged and gestured to her hips. “Well, there’s more of me than there used to be, we’ll just leave it at that.”

  “The better to cuddle with you, my dear.” Reverend Bradford’s voice sounded from behind us and we all let out a gasp.

  Queenie turned, her face redder than the painted rooster on the cookie jar. “Paul Bradford, were you eavesdropping?”

  “Not on purpose. I just had to come in to see what all the laughing was about.” He gently kissed her on the cheek. “But just so you know, I love a woman who’s soft—inside and out.”

  “Well, you get half of that with Queenie, at the very least.” Alva laughed.

  My grandmother glared at her. “Now there’s a fine response.”

  “No, she’s a softie, all the way to the core.” Reverend Bradford’s eyes misted over. “I think it just took a little bit of love to bring it out.”

  “You’re so sweet, Rev—” I sighed, unsure of how to finish.

  Reverend Bradford put his hand on mine. “Katie, I’ve been meaning to talk to you and your brothers about that. I know you’re struggling with what to call me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Reverend Bradford to the community, but I’m more than that to you. We’re family now. I’d love it if you would call me by a meaningful name, something of your choosing.”

  “Like Pap-Paul,” Queenie said. “That’s my suggestion.”

  “Just sounds more like something a child would call a grandfather,” I countered. “You know?”

  “We’ll have children one day.” Brady’s voice sounded from the other side of the room. His words caught me totally off guard. I turned to face him, my heart pounding wildly in my chest. “I think they would love to call him Pap-Paul. So let’s stick with that.”