by Gina LaManna
“Compared to us,” Horatio said, looking between himself and Clay, “you’re a guru.”
“Lacey…” Clay winced. “What does the urge feel like?”
“Gross, Clay!” I recoiled. “I’m not answering that.”
“You said it first!” Clay threw up his hands. “You said if I feel the urge to ask her out, I should.”
“Do you like her?” I asked.
Clay shrugged. “Never thought about it.”
“Think about it now,” I said. “And there’s your answer.”
Clay sat, deep in thought, his face slack.
“All right, let’s think and walk at the same time.” I hauled my cousin to his feet with the help of Horatio. “Toasts are about to start, and Nora will be livid if we’re not back in time.”
CHAPTER 34
“Carlos, dear, would you like to start?” Nora turned to her husband.
All of the main players were back around the dinner table. Horatio had been added to the second table, with Vivian, Joey, and the kids. Clay’s mouth still hung open in a half-drooling stare, and every once in a while, he’d turn his head and watch Meg, despite my best attempts to distract him.
“Is Clay okay?” Anthony whispered.
“Yeah, he’s just…confused,” I whispered back. “But in a good way.”
“That makes no sense,” Anthony said. “Are you sure he’s not in shock?”
“On the contrary, he’s very much in shock.”
But before I could explain further, Nora clinked her glass. “Carlos, would you please start the toasts?”
“No, thank you.” Carlos stared at his empty plate, as if hoping for food to materialize, so he wouldn’t have to speak.
For once, I wasn’t thinking about food. I was content as is, empty plate or not. The dining room table had been set with china from Nora’s and Carlos’s days back in Italy, the crystal wine glasses brimming full of rich, deep red liquid. I had swaddled myself in an oversized, ugly sweater on top of a simple black dress. Anthony looked handsome in his slacks and shirt, despite the sling over his shoulder.
Snow flaked down outside, drifting in lazy circles beyond the full-length windows, the evening having set in hours ago. To me, this time – the window of darkness between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning – that’s when the magic happened.
Plates of cookies were piled high, thankfully ordered from a store, and not baked by Nora. Lights twinkled outside, the glow of Rudolph’s nose blinking in the yard, the shimmering white of the icicle lights dangling from the roof casting a sparkling reflection on the snowy grounds. Eggnog, wine, and marshmallows with a dollop of hot cocoa filled our stomachs, while the glow of flickering candles added an intimate vibe to the otherwise dark dining room.
I huddled close to Anthony, my head on his good shoulder, and I wondered if I’d ever been so happy. I pushed away thoughts of my mother and my newfound dad, and focused on the here and now. And what I had in the here and now was more than most people could hope for in a lifetime.
“We have everyone here.” Nora smiled around the table, her voice soothing and soft. “I really think you should start, Carlos.”
“Merry Christmas.” Carlos lifted a half-full glass of wine. “Mangiamo! Let’s eat.”
“Carlos.” Nora tapped her fingers against the table and gave her husband a look. “You know the tradition. Name something you’re thankful for – and not an object. A blessing. We have so much to be thankful for in this family, it’s good to recognize it every now and again.”
Carlos kept his glass raised, his brows knitted in thought. He glanced at each of our faces, then looked at his glass of wine, still stumped. Finally he glanced at Anthony’s shoulder before his face brightened, as if he’d gotten the most brilliant idea. “I have mine. I know why I’m grateful.”
“Good,” Nora said, beaming. “Share it with us, please.”
“I’m glad none of you are dead.” Carlos gave a huge grin. Not in the wry, “I’m funny” sense, but a real, genuine smile. From his heart.
Nora cleared her throat. “All right, well, yes, I think we can all agree to that.”
“Why don’t you go?” I piped up, nodding to my grandmother. “Only you can follow up one like that.”
Nora clapped her hands, bouncing up and down in her seat. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, she stopped. And then she burst into tears. Waterworks style. Tears streaming from every orifice imaginable.
Alarmed, I leapt up from my seat. “Nora, what’s wrong?”
“I’m grateful for you all. That you’re here. With me.” She gave a watery smile through her hands, which she’d clasped over her mouth. “I love you all. All of you.”
I sat back down, keeping a wary eye on my grandmother. “This family is on edge, huh?” I murmured to Anthony. “Yikes.”
“I thought tonight had been relatively tame so far,” he mumbled back. “Nobody’s pulled a gun yet. And that’s saying something, what with Joey and Meg in the same room.”
“I especially love that I might have a grandbaby soon,” Nora said, through sniffles. “I just love everyone! And everything! And babies!”
“Who’s having a baby?” I asked, a confused smile on my face.
Nora immediately stopped crying. “Well, I just meant…in case, I don’t know…maybe you and Anthony?”
“Nora…” My voice rumbled across the table.
“It’s Christmas,” Anthony whispered in my ear, squeezing my hand under the table. “Let her make her wishes for today. Tomorrow, you can argue.”
I squeezed his hand back so tight, I wondered if he’d need another sling for his fingers. But I refrained from commenting, and Nora gave me such a loving expression I almost considered her request for a grandchild. Not quite, but almost. It was the night of miracles, after all.
“Who’s next?” I asked, trying to keep things moving along. When nobody answered, I turned to my right. “How about you?”
Anthony’s eyes widened. “Me?”
“Yeah, you. Everyone has to go.” I smiled sweetly, a tiny bit of payback for his insisting I not argue with Nora.
“Oh, uh…” Anthony sat up straighter. He looked around the table. “I’m grateful for…” he paused, his eyes landing on Mack. Anthony raised his glass of wine in the direction of the stunt driver. “For Mack. I, uh…I’ve never had a best friend before. I knew you’d come back for me.”
Mack raised his glass. “I’ll go next. I’m going to second Anthony. To the best man I’ve met.”
“Best man?” Nora asked. “Is there a wedding?”
“Just a bromance,” I muttered. “No wedding here.”
Mack and Anthony clinked glasses, and I swear Nora swooned. “So lovely,” she whispered. “I love new friendships.”
Meg cleared her throat. Then she cleared it again.
“Would you like to go?” I asked. “Or are you choking?”
Meg cleared her throat one more time, shooting daggers with her eyes at Anthony. Then she pointed to me. Finally, she threw her hands up. “Fine, I’m grateful for my soul mate, Lacey, since Anthony isn’t claiming her.”
“Of course I’m grateful for Lacey,” Anthony said, his cheeks pinkening. “I’m most grateful for her.”
“Why didn’t you say it first, then?” Meg asked. “She’s gotta be your number one, if you wanna keep dating her.”
“I do want to keep dating her,” Anthony said. “But I’d prefer to tell her how I feel in private. And I had a special gift planned for her, but now you ruined that surprise.”
Meg blinked.
“You have a surprise planned for me?” I turned to Anthony. “When do I get to see it?”
“Let’s just finish the toasts,” Anthony said. “Lacey, go ahead.”
I swallowed. There were so many things I could say. So many reasons to be grateful. But I refrained from spilling my guts, because if I told the truth, I’d cry. And Nora had already soaked through all the napkins, except for the one Joe
y was using to pick his nose.
“I’m grateful that I have a family to be with on this holiday.” I turned to Anthony. “Grateful for a boyfriend who’d take a bullet for me.” Next, I turned to Meg. “Grateful for a girlfriend who’d take a bullet in the rear end for me.”
“Damn, you have a lot of people taking bullets for you.” Mack winked. “That is some serious loyalty.”
I bowed my head. “I’m grateful to have a cousin who lets me pay rent when I feel like it. I’m even grateful that I have a cat who hates me. And of course, I’m grateful for the two grandparents who’ve taken me in like I’ve always belonged.” I raised my glass. “Salud.”
Choruses of Salud echoed around the table, and there was a pause as we all took a sip of our favorite beverages. Tonight, there was red wine in my cup. The alcohol gave me a pleasant, fuzzy sensation on the inside, a blurriness around the edge of my consciousness that made the evening feel even more surreal than it already did.
“It’s me,” Clay said, his voice startling in its chipperness. “My turn. Hello, folks, it’s me, Clay. My turn.”
I sat up, wondering if Clay had swallowed a bottle of Ritalin. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great!” Clay grinned, his eyes manic. He raised a hand. “I just love the holidays.”
Now even Nora looked at him skeptically. “Clay, have you and Carlos had a fight?”
“No!” Clay threw his hands on the table, braced himself against the heavy wood, and then stood up. “I feel it, Lacey. I know what you’re talking about.”
“What was I talking about?” I asked in low tones, casting a shifty glance around the table. “Clay, what are you doing?”
“The urge, Lacey. I feel it. You know the one.”
“Well, this is a bit awkward,” Nora said. “What urge, dear?”
Ignoring the question, Clay turned away from the table, whirling to face Meg.
Her eyes went wide. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Meg surprised, but there’s a first time for everything. And when Clay dropped to one knee, Meg’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
“Clay!” I hissed. “Stand up. You’re not thinking clearly.”
“Meg, I have the urge,” Clay said, his voice wavering. But he proceeded, clearing his throat, speaking in a stronger voice. “I don’t really understand it, even though Lacey tried to describe it to me.”
“No, I didn’t,” I said, waving a hand around the table. “Just to be clear. We didn’t discuss any urges. Clay’s my cousin.”
“Will you love me, Meg?” Clay asked. “I think. I mean, date me. Shit. I meant date me. Would you like to hold my hand?” Clay’s cheeks grew increasingly red. “I mean, don’t cry and hold my hand…er, shit.” Clay turned to me, his eyes in a frenzy. “Lacey, how does this go?”
“Um. Just…uh, speak from in here.” I started to tap my chest, then realized Clay found the gesture confusing. “Just talk from your heart.”
“That’s hard,” Clay whispered back. “My ribs are blocking my heart from speaking loud enough.”
“Just try it.”
Clay turned to Meg. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’ll be honest.” He reached out, and took Meg’s hand in his. “But I think you’re funny. And I think you’re beautiful. And I want to know if you would hold my hand and…shit. I just remembered how this is supposed to go. Meg, would you have a drink with me?”
Meg, still astounded as she stared at Clay, just sat there. Completely still. As if she couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Surprised and speechless in the same day? Wow.
Over Clay’s shoulder, I made eye contact with Meg and nodded my head, hoping she’d follow suit. Luckily, she copied me. And ever so slowly, she began to nod.
“Yes?” Clay squeaked. And then, in a shocked voice, he spoke again. “She said yes!”
“I do, my cutie little computer geek! I’ve been waiting for this moment.” Meg threw her arms around Clay’s neck, and then gave him the biggest smooch on the cheek. “I would love to hold your hand. And I promise I won’t cry. I’m not Lacey.”
“Hey, I don’t cry that much,” I said, trying to pretend that I hadn’t just wiped away a bit of mistiness in my left eye. “Just every now and again.”
From across the table, Horatio let out a whistle. The two-pinkies-in-the-mouth type of whistle. The sort of whistle that almost shattered my eardrums.
When Horatio finally let up on his ear-assault, he smiled. “I’m grateful to be a part of this family, too.”
Everyone awkwardly shifted in their seats, but nobody was inclined to add a comment to the contrary.
After a long, odd silence had passed, Nora stood up. “Well, let’s eat, shall we?”
But before the plated dinner could be served, there was a knock on the door to the dining room. A round of curious glances circled the table, until Nora eventually called out, “Who is it?”
There was no answer, but the door swung open. And in walked a man in a suit, a man with graying hair, a somber expression, and eyes that looked like mine.
CHAPTER 35
“Merry Christmas,” Jackson Cole said, looking around the room. “Many of you don’t know who I am, and I apologize for barging in on your family’s dinner. The guards pointed me in this direction.”
I started to get up, standing in an odd half-standing, half-sitting position. The expressions around the table were confused mostly. “Merry Christmas.” I tilted my head, my voice unsure. “What are you doing here?”
Jackson took a further step into the room. One of the guards at the second table leapt to attention, his hand hovering around his waistline, where I had no doubt a gun rested. I raised a hand, signaling that all was okay. The guard looked at Carlos before sitting back down. Carlos nodded at me.
Jackson took yet another step into the dining room, the darkness casting a shadow on his face, the twinkling lights illuminating his hazel eyes. He made eye contact with me, and me alone. “I wanted to give my daughter her Christmas gift in person.”
Everyone around the table inhaled a sharp, collective breath. Nora froze with her wine glass halfway to her mouth, the red liquid sloshing over the edge and creating a stain on the tablecloth. Nobody moved to clean it up.
Carlos, a bit more collected, didn’t bother to hide the curiosity in the gaze he directed at me. “Lacey?” He turned to me. “Would you like to explain?”
“Whew!” Meg leaned against the table, a relieved laugh bubbling up as she wiped fake sweat off her forehead. “Glad that happened sooner rather than later. Y’all know I can’t be trusted with a secret, and we were pushing a day, here, since I’d found out. One more glass of wine and it would’ve probably popped off my tongue. Just jumped right off the edge.”
“She knows?” Nora set her wine glass down, adding more square footage to the Merlot-splatter-paint-job on the tablecloth.
“Yeah, I knew,” Meg said. “And that secret was just bursting to get out of here.” Meg tapped her collarbone.
“Your heart?” Clay asked.
“No,” Meg said. “My rib cage. I keep secrets in my rib cage, and love in my heart, duh. They’re two different departments.”
Everyone now looked at Meg.
“What?” she shrugged. “I gotta compartmentalize since I have a lot of love and a lot of secrets. It’s a real thing. Read a science book, people.”
“Lacey?” Nora spoke with hesitation, her voice frail. “Is this true?”
“About secrets in the rib cage and love in the heart?” I shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. Sounds a bit far-fetched to me.”
“I think she means about your father,” Anthony whispered.
“Oh, right.” I blushed, then gathered all my guts and stood up, walking to stand next to Jackson Cole. “Yes. This man is my father.”
“He also shot Anthony,” Meg blurted out. “Whew, that secret wanted to slip out too. My tongue was greased like a Slip-N-Slide...it just wanted to pop right out. Or maybe that’s just the olive oil we were su
pposed to dip the bread into in these cute little bowls.” For Meg, “dipping” was more along the lines of “eating with a spoon.”
“He shot Anthony?” Nora said. “My goodness. Carlos has never shot any of your boyfriends, Lacey. Don’t you think that’s a little extreme?”
“If you’re considering shooting boyfriends,” Vivian said from the second table, “please consider Joey as your first priority. He got me the wrong iPad for Christmas.”
“I did not,” Joey-the-pumpkin retorted. “You said you wanted the big, fat one. I got you the big, fat one.”
“No, that was the diamond. For my finger, Joey,” Vivian said. “I wanted the big, fat diamond. For the iPad I want it skinny, duh. Who wants a fat iPad?”
While the forever hot and cold couple argued in the background, I waved my hands to get everyone’s attention. “That shooting was an accident. I have some explaining to do. I thought it could wait until tomorrow, once the festivities died down, but there’s been a change of plans.”
And there, on Christmas Eve, I explained everything. I explained how I’d connected a pin I’d found in my mother’s “Save Box” with the private school down the street. How it’d led me to try and confront Jackson Cole on Halloween, and how I’d failed miserably. I told how Jackson had disappeared, and we hadn’t been able to find him for over a month. And then Jackson filled us in on the reason he’d been absent the past few weeks.
“So he’s FBI,” Carlos said, sounding a bit choked. “And he’s in my house.”
“Retired,” I added. “And before you do anything you’ll regret, remember he’s still related, whether you like it or not.”
Carlos pursed his lips, but I continued my explanation without his permission, telling them how Jackson Cole had chased Oleg to Hollywood on a lead; a lead surrounding the murder of his best friend. I explained that when my father had shot Anthony, it’d been to save me, because he thought I’d been kidnapped. That Jackson had mistakenly believed Anthony was working with Oleg, instead of watching over him. And finally, I explained how my mother had vanished on him, and Jackson Cole hadn’t known I existed until yesterday.