by Morris, T M
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about Jack.” Lucy blushed.
“Yeah, right. I bet you don’t have a single clue, do you?” Jack muttered as he walked away with Sydney in tow. “Why isn’t there anything to drink? I could use a gin and tonic right about now.”
Sylvia called over to him from one of the sofas in front of the fire. “Because John and I thought it would be a nice change. Have some mulled cider, dear.”
As Jack and Sylvia sank deep into their own heated conversation, Lucy chanced a glance at Devon. He was fuming. “Devon, I can handle Jack.” she said.
“Maybe. But I’d rather not have to find out if you can or can’t.” Devon hissed under his breath. “I swear I will beat him senseless if he ever pulls another stunt like he did just now. You shouldn’t have to put up with him trying to paw you all the time.”
“Devon, calm down.” She whispered. She stared into his eyes. His mood had darkened their color to navy. Lucy was beginning to dread this intervention thing. One wrong word out of Jack and he would sport black and blue marks for weeks.
“I will when we get Jack straightened out and clear on how you are off-limits.” He growled.
“I’m not your property.” She growled with sudden hot anger.
“I wouldn’t call you my property. I’d call you...” Devon’s voice trailed off as Claire took hold of his arm.
“Dev, what are you two hissing at each other about? You two look as if you are arguing.” Her eyes held concern. “Sydney is shooting daggers at you, Lucy. I don’t know what you did to make her mad, but I’d watch out if I were you. She can be vicious and conniving on her sweetest days. You don’t want to make her mad.”
“We’re not arguing, sis.” Devon said trying to sound patient.
“No, we aren’t.” Lucy agreed with a little too much energy. “I don’t know why Sydney dislikes me. I’ve done my best to stay out of her way. I don’t cotton to her calling me a gold-digging slut every chance she gets.”
“No Way! She didn’t? How awful. But anyway, you look like you’re arguing. Besides, Sylvia says dinner is ready. So come on, Dev, escort me so you won’t have an arm free for her to hijack.” Claire replied pulling Devon, who looked ready to explode, along by the arm toward the dining room whispering frantically into his ear.
Eli offered Lucy his arm, “I guess, cuz, we’re supposed to follow them.”
Lucy smiled, “Then we better follow them.”
“I can’t tell you how much we’ve all missed you Lucinda.” He whispered close to her ear.
She gave him a side hug. “I’ve missed all y’all more than I realized. I’m so glad to see you again.”
As dinner was served, Lucy watched the way Eli and Claire acted toward one another. There was a light in Eli's eyes whenever he looked at Claire when she wasn't looking. They were a good match. Claire was beautiful. She had her mother’s features and her father’s coloring. Eli was handsome, but still a little gangly and awkward. Claire had a bubbling, vivacious personality whereas Eli was quiet and reticent. It was obvious to Lucy how Eli and Claire were besotted with one another.
Lucy stole a wistful glance at Devon. Why couldn’t he feel the same toward her? How could she sit here at this family dinner as if she was part of the family when she had no hope of ever becoming a family member? She toyed with her food and again stole another sidelong glance at Devon. To her surprise he was studying her. She went crimson, “Do I have gravy on my chin?”
“How could you have a single speck of gravy or anything else on your face? You haven’t eaten anything.”
“Yes I have. I’ll have you know I have eaten my green beans and my sweet potatoes.” she declared.
“Devon. Don’t hound the girl.” Sylvia came to her defense. “Maybe she’s not very hungry.”
“Is your stomach still bothering you, Lucy?” Carmella asked.
“Do you have stomach trouble?” Jonathan asked.
“Maybe she’s got a touch of the flu.” Thad surmised.
“May be she’s bulimic or anorexic.” Sydney suggested with disgust. “She’s nothing but bones. Check her teeth. Bulimics have bad teeth. The acid eats away the enamel.”
“Do shut up, Sydney.” Devon grated.
“Why don’t we let her answer all these questions? I’m sure she has a perfect and plausible answer.” Jack smiled deviously.
“I’m fine.” Lucy blushed. "All this attention is rather unnerving, though. I’m not coming down with the flu and my stomach isn’t bothering me. I don’t have an eating disorder, either.” She showed her teeth. “And my teeth are fine. I was only thinking.”
“What were you thinking?” Devon probed.
“I’m sure not everyone wants to hear about what I was thinking, Devon.” Lucy tried to avoid his question.
“Come on Lucy, tell us.” Claire cried, “We are all so curious now.”
“Okay, fine. Remember, Claire, I wanted to keep my thoughts to myself.” Lucy muttered, “I was thinking about how you and my cousin make such a good pair.”
“Oh.” Claire blushed and was for a moment at a loss for words. After a quick glance at Eli and a swig of her iced tea she murmured, “I had no idea you were thinking about us.”
“She has a point, Claire.” Sylvia said, “You and Eli have been dating for a while now. What, has it been four or five months? And you do get along so well. Are you two going to make any announcements anytime soon?”
Claire’s blush deepened. Eli choked, “When we do decide to make an announcement—about anything—you will know.”
“Have you thought about a career in politics Eli?” Jack needled him. “You are so very good at non-answers. Can I get a gin and tonic, a beer even? I’ll settle for a glass of wine.”
“Jack! Really!” Sylvia reprimanded, “What is the matter with you? This is supposed to be a festive occasion. Stop being so ill-tempered. We don’t deserve it and I have already told you no alcohol tonight.”
“How can we be ‘festive’ if we are partying with mulled cider and iced tea?” Jack groused.
“Jack did say this was going to be a party, Aunt Sylvia.” Sydney grumbled. Lucy couldn’t decide if Sydney was being childish or adding fuel to the fire for its entertainment value.
Everyone eyed Sylvia waiting for the cue. She let out a slow sigh then said, “Everyone here is capable of enjoying themselves without getting drunk including the two of you.”
“I don’t know—you all seem pretty tense to me.” Jack muttered.
“Let’s just finish eating.” Jonathan growled from the head of the table.
Devon caught Lucy’s eye. She crinkled her nose at him as if to say ‘Look what you started.’ He winked at her. The rest of the meal continued with a minimum of chatter, which were for the most part comments on the food.
Jack was right about one thing. The room was thick with tension. Lucy could feel it vibrating against her skin.
“We’ll have dessert and coffee in the living room.” Sylvia announced, “Claire, Carmella, Lucy will you help me clear the table? Sydney, you can start the coffee.”
In unison they stood and began to gather the serving dishes, plates and cutlery. As they were going back and forth to the kitchen Carmella stopped Lucy. “Honey, are you still having bouts of sickness?”
“I have my good days and my bad days. I have an appointment on Tuesday to see the doctor.” She whispered.
“So much whispering going on around here,” Jack groused as he passed them in the hall, “I wish I knew what’s the matter with everyone.”
Carmella shrugged. “Better be careful what you wish, Jack.”
Soon the table was cleared, the dishwasher loaded, and all the leftovers stowed in the refrigerator. Sylvia dished up the family's traditional Christmas dessert of sweet potato pie and whipped cream. Sydney, Claire and Lucy carried the trays laden with dessert plates into the living room. Carmella and Sylvia followed with trays of coffee, cups, sugar and cream. When they entered
the living room, they found the men in deep debate over some local political issue. Conversation turned back to more congenial topics as everyone sat and began enjoying their pie and coffee.
As the pie plates began to collect on a tray Sylvia breached the subject of alcohol. She said, “Well, this dinner has been the most pleasant we have ever had together wouldn’t you agree, John? We should do away with the liquor altogether if it—”
“Wait a minute,” Jack interrupted, “We can’t declare the holidays dry. Pretty soon y’all will be trying to reinstate prohibition. What’s the matter with you people?”
Sydney snickered. “Prohibition. As if.”
Jonathan glared at her as he stood, “Jack, everyone here believes you are the one who has to have the alcohol. We think you have a drinking problem. You’re an alcoholic or very near to becoming one. We want you to get help.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t have a drinking problem.” Jack sounded incredulous.
Sydney added, “Just because you like to drink doesn’t mean you’re an alcoholic. I like to drink and I’m not an alcoholic.”
“You are not helping, Sydney.” Sylvia hissed then turned to Jack. “Jack, sweetheart, it’s obvious to everyone you’re miserable and we want you to know we will support you one hundred percent in any changes you need to make in order to find happiness. I’ll even help you finance the startup of your own business—if you want. Trying to drown your feelings in the bottom of a gin bottle isn’t the answer. We love you and we want you to be well.” She finished, uncharacteristically tearful.
“Did you put them up to this, Devon? Did you tell them how much I hate the consulting game?” Did you ask her to finance me so you can get me out of James Dalton Environmental? Did you?” His voice rose with every word until he was shouting and standing nose to nose with Devon.
“I didn’t start anything Jack.” Devon answered keeping his voice calm. “Sylvia approached us with this idea of confronting you en masse in order to get you to admit you have a drinking problem and maybe get you to do something about your problem.” He bent to add another log to the fire.
“Well that’s great,” Jack spat as he began to pace the floor in agitation, “and what about your problem, Devon? When are we going to confront you about getting your life in order? Huh? When are you going to take care of your problem?”
Devon straightened from adding the log to the fire. Confused he said, “I don’t have any idea what you are talking about Jack.”
“You don’t, do you?” Jack’s tone was bitter, “Well, what I want to know is—when are you going to do the right thing or are you going to leave Lucy to raise your bastard alone?”
Gasps came from the women seated around the room. Then the room became so silent—it seemed to Lucy as if even the fire hushed to hear what was going to be said next. Devon swayed from the verbal blow. Lucy paled and shot a look at Carmella. Carmella caught her eye and shook her head and said, “I promise you I didn’t tell anyone, dear.”
“I know she didn’t,” said Thad in her defense. “She didn’t tell me, so I know she didn’t tell him.”
Jack laughed, “Give me a break! You hens need to make sure no one is around if you are going to share secrets.”
“You eavesdropped on them?” Claire sounded disgusted.
Sydney jumped up screaming, “I don’t believe this! How could you? You’re mine, Devon, mine. You betrayed me with that slut! That gold-digging slut! I can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this.” By this time she had reached Devon. She had tears streaming down her cheeks. “I loved you and you did this to me?” Without warning she swung her arm full circle to slap him.
Devon was quicker. He caught her wrist before she struck him. “Sydney, I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about. I have never encouraged you, nor have I paid any attention to all the blatant innuendos you threw in my direction. I wouldn’t have responded anyway, you’re family.”
Sydney’s features iced over. “We’re not blood-related! You will pay for this, Devon. You will be miserable, you hear me? I will make sure you are. You will never have another chance to have me.” She whirled around, and as she stormed from the room shoving Lucy as she passed her, almost knocking her off her feet. “You slut!” In the silence they heard the front door slam.
As the silence grew heavy Lucy’s heart sank. She didn’t want Devon to find out about the baby this way. What was she going to do now?
The room erupted with everyone’s excited chatter. Jack looked smug and satisfied with himself thinking he was successful in diverting the attention from him. As for Devon, he was as pale as and as silent as Lucy. He was staring into the fire with his back to everyone.
Lucy couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking. She knew he was going to explode if anyone said anything to him anytime soon.
Jack rubbed his hands together as he said, “I think this calls for a celebratory glass of champagne, don’t y’all? Of course Lucy, you’ll have to settle for juice.”
Sylvia chastised him, “Jack! This is what we have been trying to get you to see. If and when we do toast this bit of news we will all have juice.”
“Son?” Jonathan placed his hand on Devon’s shoulder. “You didn’t know about the baby yet, did you?”
Devon shook his head. At last Lucy was able to find her voice, she choked. “I—I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you. This—this is not at all the way I wanted you to find out. I wanted to tell you myself in private.” She glared at Jack. “I told you before we came in here tonight that we need to talk; to clear the air.”
Devon turned away from the fire. His face was devoid of expression giving nothing away. Lucy looked at him using her eyes to plead with him. He had to believe her. “Are you sure it’s mine?”
Lucy winced, everyone else gasped. Eli and Claire exchanged shocked glances. Her voice quivered with held back tears. “You know it’s yours. Who else could be the father?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe Jordan Lancaster? How far along are you?” He asked acid dripping off each syllable.
“About eight weeks and I told you I never so much as let him, or any other man, touch me. You know you were…” Her voice trailed away. Lucy was aware of the tears trailing down her cheeks but she didn’t care. Her heart was breaking. Her worst fears were coming true.
“Then it can’t be mine. The first time we...the first time was six weeks ago in Gatlinburg, when we were stranded by the ice.” He felt sick. His heart was breaking. He could feel the physical pain of it rending deep in his chest. Lucy was only using him. Why didn’t he see it coming?
“Devon, you’re an idiot.” Claire jumped to her feet waving her hands in the air. “Don’t you know anything about reproductive biology?”
“Obviously you think I don’t know as much as I should and you, the pre-med student, are going to enlighten me.” Devon scoffed.
“Yes I am.” Claire punched him hard on the shoulder. “Ovulation takes place about two weeks after the beginning of each monthly cycle. Lucy’s cycle must have started two weeks before the ice storm. You, iced in up there at the cabin, impregnated her. Dear brother, you are the daddy because everyone knows it was just the two of you there. You, Devon. You are the only one who could be the father.”
Hope surged forth crushing his sorrow. The tightness in his chest relaxed and he could breathe again. He turned to his father and said, “Can we use your study, Dad? I want to talk to Lucy in private and you all can continue with Jack.”
Jonathan nodded. “Take all the time you need.”
“There is no need for you to run off into the other room. We all want to know what’s going to happen.” Jack’s excitement hinted at his hopes of keeping the focus on someone beside himself.
“Jack, I’m not going to warn you again.” Devon grated, taking a menacing step toward him.
“You are not getting out of it this time, Jack.” Sylvia was firm. “And we will all know how it turns out when they come
back in here. Go on you two. You have a lot to talk about and resolve—go on now.” Sylvia made a shooing motion toward them.
Devon didn’t need Sylvia’s urging to leave the room. He pulled Lucy by the wrist into Jonathan’s study and closed the door behind them.
Lucy felt chilled. She couldn’t decide if it was due to leaving a crowded room with a blazing fire or Devon’s behavior. With tears still streaking down her cheeks she spun around to face him as she said, “I promise you Devon, I wanted to tell you myself but I didn’t know how. I’m not trying to trap you or to manipulate you. If you want me to, I’ll leave and you’ll never hear from me again.”
“Be quiet Lucy,” Devon ordered, “I need to think.” Again she flinched as if his words had physically struck her. It was several long silent minutes before Devon said anything. He stood there with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Then he asked, “Were you planning on getting rid of it or were you going to keep my baby?”
Lucy’s eyes grew large as her jaw dropped in shock. She stammered, “I-I will keep it, of course. I-I co-could n-never, never get rid of it. I love my baby. Our baby.”
“What about me Lucy? Do you love me?” Devon’s voice sounded strained and uncertain. His insides were turning into twisted painful knots as he waited for what seemed an eternity for her to answer.
Lucy’s tears continued to spill onto her cheeks as she proclaimed what she had been longing to say for weeks, “Oh Devon. Yes. Yes, I love you. I love you with all my heart. I have loved you for so long. I let you…I thought you knew because…”
“Good. The most important thing I require of my wife is she loves me.” His voice was heavy with relief.
“Your wife?”
“If you’ll have me; for the good of our baby.”
She winced. “For the good of our baby? What about me?”
“What about you?”
“What do you mean ‘What about you’?" she was incredulous. "Do you love me? If I am to be your wife shouldn’t you love me, too?”
“Lucy.” Her name was a groan from deep within him as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her deeply before continuing, “I have been in love with you since that first day in the rain, fighting for the same cab. I thought you knew how much I loved you.”