I was home. Home? Where was home anymore? This place where I’d been born and lived my entire life until four months ago? Or the piedmont of North Carolina, even with its forty-degree temps?
I hopped inside Dad’s car and we took off for his new place. Our Newport Beach house had been sold right before Mom and I moved to NC in August. Dad had moved out of Orange County and bought a condo in LA. The company he owned, The Box King, had a warehouse in downtown Los Angeles. So I guess it only made sense that he’d set up his office and move to LA now that our family home had been sold off. He had a completely different life without us. I bet he even had a girlfriend by now.
“How was your flight?” Dad gave a cursory glance and then returned his attention to the traffic exiting the airport.
“It was early.”
“Sorry about the change of date, but you’ll be glad after we go to your UCLA interview tomorrow morning.”
My hand tightly gripped the edge of the seat, but I didn’t reply. What I had to say wouldn’t have been respectful.
My phone beeped. Just your overprotective mother. Reply with a simple yes, and I’ll know you’re OK.
YES! I’m OK.
Love you!
Lu2
The rest of the ride remained rather quiet, and I was glad for it. It gave me a chance to think. Think about college and Andrea and what future lay ahead of me in both those arenas. I even thought about Charli. Maybe I should call her. Just to be nice. We’re supposed to be Christian witnesses out in the world, aren’t we? It would be rude just to ignore her, wouldn’t it? Of course, if I knew Charli, she’d probably contact me before the sun went down.
~*~
Dad pushed open the door to the condo. It was a new construction and everything inside was perfect, from the beige-colored walls to the furniture arrangement and the hanging artwork, but not one photograph of Monica or myself. It even smelled new. Too perfect. Had Dad hired someone to decorate? Because this was not his style. Did Dad even have a decorating style? I doubted it.
The other odd thing about it—no Christmas decorations. Not a wreath or a ribbon. It was like the Grinch had beat us home and cleaned it out.
“Nice place.” I set my bags down in the living room.
“Glad you like it.” He totally missed my sarcasm. “Your room is the first door on the right. The bathroom is directly across the hall from you. Go check it out. Let me know what you think. I have to make a phone call.”
I followed the hallway down to the bedroom. Too perfect again. A queen-size bed covered in a navy-blue bedspread, a comfy chair in the corner, an oak desk up against the window. Then I saw it. I dropped my bags and crossed the room to where a guitar case had been propped against the wall next to the closet. I placed it on top of the bed and undid the clasps on the case. It creaked as I flung the cover back and it plopped into the mattress.
A pink, sparkly Girl-Power sticker reflected from the front of the polished wood of the guitar. My fingers glided over the smooth surface and encircled the sticker—the same sticker that had been stuck there as long as I could remember. Then I heard Dad’s heavy steps over the hardwood floor outside the door.
“So? What do you think?”
I picked up the guitar by the neck and glanced over at Dad standing in the doorway. “Where did you find it?”
“Oh, uh.” He crossed his arms. “Up in the attic or someplace before I moved out of the house. I don’t remember.”
He was lying. I could always tell when he lied. There was a certain something in his smile. I hated that smile, and I’d seen it in every excuse he’d made to Mom over the last couple years.
I took a step closer to him. “I wanted to take her guitar when I moved. Why would you hide it from me?”
“Why would I hide Monica’s guitar? Look, Luke, I don’t want to get into any of this with you. I thought you’d like to play it or something. It’s Christmas. Can’t we just have a good time together for once?”
I could have said the same thing to him. But speaking of Christmas… “So, are you planning to get a tree or something?”
“What?” Dad dropped his arms to his side. “Oh, yeah, a Christmas tree. I haven’t really had a chance to decorate yet. Thought you might like to put the tree together like the old days.”
“The plastic one?”
“Sure.”
Something told me it wouldn’t fit in with his current décor. Or his new decorator.
“Anyway, unpack and clean up. I have someone coming over for dinner I want you to meet.”
“Who?” I narrowed my eyes on him. Could this be the decorator?
“Her name is Heather Bacon.”
I held back a snicker. Bacon? Like the breakfast food. As I suspected, divorced less than a year, and he already had a girlfriend…or something. I guess I should be glad he’d waited until the ink had dried on the divorce papers.
“And she’s bringing her daughter. She’s in high school too and visiting from out of state.”
Great! It wasn’t enough that I had to meet this strange woman when I was supposedly here to spend my Christmas vacation with my dad. Now I had to meet the whole family. Or maybe that’s what this was supposed to be—one big, happy family for Christmas. Ugh! I forced a smile and then turned back to the bed. “I guess I’ll get to the unpacking then.” I replaced Monica’s guitar in the case.
I’d return to the guitar topic at a later date, but I was determined to take her guitar with me when I left. Monica would have wanted me to have it. We’d played plenty of songs on that old guitar when we were younger. When she was in a coma, I even took it to the hospital after her accident and played it for her just like she taught me.
Dad left and then my phone beeped with a text message. Several messages in a row.
Have you landed?
Are you alive?
Earth to Luke! It’s been hours.
Miss You!!
I know it sounds like I’m freaking out, but I just miss you.
I smiled. With everything going on, it had slipped my mind to text Andrea as I’d promised. It was good to know she did actually miss me.
Please delete those texts. I sound way too obsessed.
This time, I laughed out loud as I began to text back. Not deleting. I’m alive, just busy with Dad. Miss you too. I’ll call tomorrow.
Then I shall say good night till it be morrow.
Shakespeare?
Shakespeare. R&J, my Christmas-break assignment.
I picked up the guitar again and strummed a couple chords. I hadn’t played it since the day before they pulled Monica off the ventilator and we had to say our goodbyes. I started playing a simple tune—one of the first that Monica had taught to me.
I’d never really questioned why God had to take Monica away from us and the havoc it did to our family. That was life. Sin entered the world and bad things happened because of it. Even so, I missed my older sis. I wished she were here. She knew exactly how to work Dad. Maybe she could have convinced him that I didn’t want to attend UCLA next fall and that maybe I’d like a choice in the matter of my future.
~*~
I ran to answer the door as soon as I heard the doorbell. My preference had been to stay in my room and make Dad come force me to socialize with his new lady friend, but I figured that was childish. Better to take the high road. WWJD and all that. I guess if you think about it, Jesus had a stepfather in Joseph.
If things went Dad’s way, he might find himself with a new wife. And that meant a stepmother for me. Possibly, even a new sister. That idea caused an ache right in the center of my chest as my thoughts carried to memories of Monica. No, even if he married this woman one day, her daughter would never be my sister.
Just as the second chime of the doorbell sounded, I pulled the door open.
A petite woman at least a foot shorter than me, with long, pale blonde hair, stood on the steps with a large smile, mouth covered in deep red lipstick. She couldn’t have looked any more different fro
m my tall, brown-eyed mother if she’d tried.
“Hello, you must be Luke.” She had a low, husky voice as if she smoked a pack a day. She didn’t smell like tobacco. Maybe she’d given it up.
Before I had a chance to debate who her voice reminded me of, I was accosted around the neck. “Luke, oh my gosh! What are you doing here?”
Instinctively, I grabbed her arms and tried to pull this stranger off of me.
She released me and stepped back.
I knew those sky-blue eyes and that spiky blonde hair. “Charli? What are you doing here?”
“Small world.” She glanced back at the woman who I assumed was Dad’s new girlfriend.
Heather something. Oh, right, Bacon. “Wait…no way…” I stared wide-eyed at Charli.
“Mom lives in this complex too. She met your dad the day she moved in last summer.”
And yet he’d neglected to even mention her name to me in all this time.
Dad’s steps came from behind me. “I see you’ve met Heather.” He moved past me and leaned in close to the woman, setting a kiss on her lips. There was no mistaking the extent of their relationship now.
“Oh, Jim, you’ll never guess. The kids already know each other.”
“We met on the plane,” Charli filled in.
“Did you get seated together?” Heather asked. “When I switched Luke’s ticket, I never imagined they’d put him and Charli together.”
So this was who’d helped him change my ticket.
“What a coincidence,” I added with a smile. I tried to make it look genuine. “Why didn’t you give Charli a ride home from the airport if you knew she was on the flight, Dad? She had to take a taxi.”
“Oh, well…” Dad looked embarrassed.
“We just didn’t want to overwhelm you, Luke.” Heather took Dad’s arm. “Your father and I thought you should have some time together alone and let you get settled first. Wasn’t it better to meet like this?” She beamed a large smile my direction. It looked a lot like Charli’s.
“Sure.” I turned my lips up into a quick, closed-mouth smile.
Dad led the ladies into the house.
I closed the door and followed. This could not be happening. My dad couldn’t be dating the mother of that kooky girl, Charli. This had to be some weird kind of dream. Please let this be a dream! A nightmare even. At least then I could wake up.
Dad took us all out to dinner to this trendy, industrial restaurant. It had bright overhead lighting, stainless-steel embellishments, and the servers were all dressed in black other than their metallic silver aprons. I thought I was on the set of some strange sci-fi movie, complete with electronic-sounding music playing in the background. No Christmas decorations either.
I was seeing a trend here.
Dad and Heather did most of the talking. I didn’t say much even when Charli addressed me directly. I just wanted the meal over so I could go to bed and wish myself back at Mom’s.
“So, your dad says you’re a senior,” Charli said out of the blue.
I glanced at Dad and Heather involved in a private conversation with their heads tilted close together. “Yeah.” I eyed Charli. “What about you?”
“A freshman. And you play baseball, right?”
“Yeah, I made all-stars last year.”
“You must be pretty good then. I don’t really get into sports.”
“Art is your thing, I assume?”
“Yep. I drew out some new designs. I can show them to you later.”
“Great.”
“So, where do you go to school?”
“Aubrey Christian Academy,” I answered and then took another sip of soda.
“And?”
“And what?”
“That’s all you have to say about school? Your conversation tonight has been nearly monosyllabic.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Just making conversation.” She sounded hurt. Her offense didn’t last long. “I could tell you a hundred things about my school—none of it good.”
“My school’s cool. I like it.”
“A Christian school. Does that mean you’re a Christian?”
“Yeah, I am. What about you?” I decided to smile. Maybe this was why God put me here with Charli tonight. I was supposed to be a witness to her.
“I’ve been to church.”
“Really? When was that?” I took a final bite of mashed sweet potatoes.
“Oh, I don’t remember. Mom and I went sometimes back in Chicago with my grandma before she died.”
I nodded to her. “I went to a really great church here in Orange County before Mom and I moved. Maybe we can go for a visit together while I’m here.”
She shrugged. “Sure, I guess that would be OK.”
After that, she seemed to lose interest in me and my brief answers. Her attention turned back to the adults, and she and her mom tag-teamed in questioning my dad about every topic under the sun. At least I wasn’t the object of her attention for the moment.
4
Dad and I were up early to be on time for my 9 AM appointment with the UCLA admissions office. After that, we checked out the campus and met up with the assistant baseball coach. I even got to hit a few balls with some of the college guys hanging around the field.
We left before lunch, and Dad took me out for pizza at my favorite place. The familiar smells wafted around me as we entered the building. What was it about pizza joints? Each establishment has a certain smell—same ingredients but a totally different taste. It’s one of those mysteries like how they built the pyramids and what happened to the city of Atlantis.
I took a seat while Dad ordered.
He joined me a few minutes later with two glasses and a pitcher of soda. “So what do you think? Are you more enthused about UCLA now?”
“It’s not like we haven’t been on campus before.”
Dad’s face formed a frown.
“I mean, it’s great. It’s a good school. No one can argue that…except maybe USC.”
That made him crack a smile. “I don’t want to even hear you hint that you’re planning on applying to USC.” He pointed his index finger at me playfully and then poured me something to drink.
“I wouldn’t dare.” I took the glass and sipped at the cool beverage through a straw.
Dad leaned back against the wood-backed booth with his glass. “So, I had a talk with the Bruins assistant coach while you were out hitting balls today. He liked what he saw in you. He asked where you were going to school and suggested if you were at an LA public school, you might have a better chance of being offered a scholarship.”
The last bit of soda coming through the straw started me coughing at Dad’s hint. I tried to clear my throat and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “I’m not”—I cleared my throat again—“I’m not moving back…not yet.”
“You’ve only been gone a couple months. You’d still be considered a resident of the state if you came to live with me, which would also lower tuition.”
I shook my head. “I can’t leave Mom.”
“Your mother would understand. It’s for your future.”
The server showed up with our pizzas. She wore a Santa hat and smiled widely. “A Supreme with everything and a Veggie Extreme.” She set the pizzas up on those little table stands and left us.
Dad served himself a slice and took a bite. “Mmm, I haven’t had good pizza since you left, son.”
It smelled good, but I’d suddenly lost my appetite.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
I reached in toward the Supreme. “I’m not moving in with you, Dad.”
“Look, I know you haven’t been real happy with me lately, but it would be different now.”
“What makes it different?” I eyed him and tried hard not to roll my eyes in disbelief.
“Well.” He sat up straighter with a cheery smile. Yeah, sincerely happy. The kind of smile that made it all the way to his eyes. A genuine smile.
It had
been a long time since I’d seen him that way.
His gaze met mine. “I’m planning to ask Heather to marry me.”
~*~
“So, how do you feel about that?” Andrea asked me the next morning.
I’d waited the whole night before calling her. I needed time to digest. I was still digesting. “I don’t even know. I think I’m still in shock.” I settled a folded arm under my head as I spoke while lying on the bed in my temporary bedroom. “I mean, by the way my dad has been for years, I thought he hated being married. Why would he want to get married again…and so soon? They’ve been divorced only ten months.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t like being alone. I’ve heard some men are like that.”
“I guess…maybe. Anyway, I can’t wait to get back home.”
“Only eight more days,” she replied cheerfully.
“Yeah, eight more days. Well, enough of me. What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know, it’s been pretty boring.”
“I know it can get that way with me gone.”
“Ha! Ha! But yeah, with you gone and Amy and Angie away on that missions trip, it has been on the dull side.”
“But I have a feeling you’ve been filling your time with lots of piano practice. How’s everything coming along?”
“You do not want me to regale you with complaints about the chord I just can’t get right.”
I laughed. “Of course I do. I live and breath listening to you talk musical speak.”
“It must be like when you talk about RBIs and batting averages.”
We shared a laugh.
“Most of it is the typical Christmas carols, which are no-brainers, but I’m playing one of my own compositions and that is freaking me out a little.”
“You’ll be awesome. I wish I could be there to hear you.”
“Me too,” she said a little wistfully. “Just remember, eight more…”
“I know, eight more days.”
“So, what did you think of my journal?”
I sat up straighter on the bed, leaning against the dark wood headboard. “Your journal?” I swallowed hard. “I…uh, honestly, I was surprised you gave it to me.”
Luke's Crazy California Christmas Page 3