“Are you sure? So close to Christmas?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll tell him.” She squeezed his shoulder and stood up.
“Megan—”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for everything. The soup, the company—everything.”
Megan smiled at him. “It was my pleasure.”
Outside, night had fallen, and light flakes of snow were drifting down and dancing in the winter wind. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the dark-ened sky, feeling snow crystals fall like kisses, cool and gentle upon her skin. She almost laughed out loud. “Snow crystals,” she whispered, knowing at once what block she would create to represent the changes she wanted to make, and was making, in her life. Snow like a soft quilt blanketing the earth, clean, fresh, and new, as hopeful as a mother’s dreams for her child.
Donna’s first thought when she woke Christmas morning was that Lindsay was coming home. Her heart light, she threw off the covers and hurried to shower and dress. Lindsay was coming home, and they’d have an old-fashioned family Christmas as they always did, Brandon or no Brandon.
She sang carols as she made blueberry pancakes for breakfast, anticipating the day with great joy. She had spent Christmas Eve baking, and the whole house still smelled of gingerbread and apple pie. The tree in the living room was beautifully decorated and surrounded by colorfully wrapped gifts, snow was falling outside, and the day promised to be festive and fun, full of love and laughter with the people she loved most.
Paul and Becca came downstairs for breakfast, smiling and teasing each other. Paul liked to pretend that Becca still believed in Santa Claus, and Becca went along with it to amuse him. “I think I heard reindeer on the roof last night,” he said, and Becca bounced up and down in her chair as if she were six rather than sixteen. Donna laughed, enjoying their closeness, and told herself that Lindsay’s presence was all she needed to make the day complete. She brushed aside any worry that Lindsay would cancel as she had at Thanksgiving. Lindsay would be there; Donna refused to believe otherwise.
But when the phone rang and Becca answered, her heart began to pound. She prayed it was her brother calling from California to wish them a happy holiday, but when Becca told her flatly that Lindsay was on the line, she steeled herself for the worst. “Merry Christmas, honey,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “I thought you’d be on the road by now.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom.” Lindsay’s voice sounded strained. “I thought we would have left by now, too, but we’re running late.”
“You’re still coming, aren’t you?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss Christmas. What time were you planning to have dinner?”
“Around two.”
“Okay. We’ll be there by one thirty.”
“But we were going to open presents first.”
“Can we do that after?” Donna heard a low voice speaking in the back-ground, and a hollowness while Lindsay covered the mouthpiece and murmured a response. “It won’t take long, will it?”
Donna’s throat tightened. “Tell Brandon it will take as long as it takes. It’s Christmas, and I’m not rushing through it to please anyone.”
Lindsay was silent for a moment. “Okay. We’ll be there at one thirty. Bye, Mom. See you soon.” She hung up.
“Is she canceling again?” Paul asked.
“No. She’ll be here.”
Becca looked relieved, but Paul merely nodded grimly.
Donna pretended that nothing was wrong and went about fixing Christmas dinner. They’re only delayed, she chided herself. Anyone could be delayed driving in Minnesota in December. She was overreacting. But Paul and Becca also seemed ill at ease, for instead of returning to the family room to watch Christmas parades on television, Paul put carols on the CD player, and they stayed in the kitchen, assisting her when she asked, and talking about some of their favorite Christmases of the past.
At a quarter before two, Brandon’s car pulled into the driveway. “They’re here,” Becca called out, running to the front door to meet her sister. Lindsay entered, shaking snow from her blond hair, carrying gifts in one arm and hugging Becca with the other. Paul went to greet her, too, but Donna hung back in the kitchen, listening to the reunion in the foyer with uncertain relief. Because of Lindsay’s phone call, she had expected Brandon to be in one of his bad moods, the kind he always seemed to be in whenever Donna phoned her daughter. She dreaded that he would be unpleasant and ruin the holiday.
But when Lindsay led Brandon into the kitchen, he was smiling, and after Lindsay hugged her, Brandon did as well. “Merry Christmas,” he said cheerfully. “Thanks for having us. Everything smells great.” His enthusiasm was so unexpected that Donna could just barely manage to stammer a Christmas greeting in reply. She caught Paul’s eye, and he shrugged, clearly as surprised as she was.
Brandon asked Becca to show him to the Christmas tree so he could leave some gifts beneath it. Lindsay watched them go, then turned to give her mother another hug. “I’m sorry we’re late.”
“It’s all right,” Donna said, and now that Lindsay was there, it was. She held her daughter at arm’s length and looked her up and down. “Goodness, honey, you’re getting so thin.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes, smiling. “No, I’m not. You say that every time I visit.”
Donna let it go, but Lindsay did look thinner, and she had always been slim. Her face looked tired, too, as if she’d been ill or had slept poorly. “You need a good home-cooked meal,” she said, wishing that Lindsay would be spending the night in her old bedroom so Donna could see to it she had a hearty breakfast, too.
The turkey was ready, so Donna and her daughters quickly set the dining room table with the good china and served the meal. Her family praised her cooking, as they always did, declaring this Christmas feast the best yet. For his part, Brandon said her turkey was perfect and her stuffing the best he had ever tasted. Pleased in spite of herself, Donna thanked him, and gradually, as he joined in the dinner conversation as pleasantly as she could have wished, her apprehensions ebbed away. She had to admit that Brandon was handsome and charming, and she understood why her daughter was attracted to him. The worst she could say was that he tended to interrupt when others were speaking, but she could hardly condemn Brandon for something Paul had done to her at least twice daily throughout their nearly twenty-five years of marriage.
After supper, Donna, Lindsay, and Becca cleaned up the mess while Paul and Brandon went into the family room to watch the last quarter of a football game. From the kitchen Donna heard them talking and, every so often, laughing out loud. “They seem to get along well,” Donna remarked to Lindsay, who glanced toward the family room and nodded in a distracted way as she wiped off the countertop.
When they finished tidying the kitchen, Donna and her daughters joined Paul and Brandon in the family room to exchange presents. Lindsay explained their tradition to Brandon: The youngest person would give a present to the second youngest, who would unwrap the gift and then give a gift to the next oldest. When the oldest person had received and opened a gift, he would give a gift to the youngest. The pattern would repeat, each person giving a gift to the youngest person they had not yet given a gift to, until all the gifts were distributed.
Brandon shook his head and grinned. “Sounds more complicated than necessary.”
“It’s a tradition from my side of the family,” Paul said.
“Which explains why it’s so confusing,” Becca added. “And why I always have to be last.”
Everyone laughed, but Donna defended her husband, saying, “It’s better than what we did in my family. Everyone just tore into the packages at the same time. Wrapping paper flew everywhere, and you could never see what everyone else had received. This way it lasts longer.”
With the same grin, Brandon said, “That could be either good or bad, though, couldn’t it?”
“Here, Becca,” Lindsay said quickly. “I’m younger than Brandon. I’ll start.”
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Becca handed her a box wrapped in red-and-white-striped paper, and for the next half hour, they opened presents one by one, with Paul’s system creating occasional but easily remedied confusions, since Lindsay and Brandon had already exchanged gifts. Donna had not expected a present from Brandon, and thought that, at the most, Lindsay would include his name on her gifts, but Brandon had brought presents for everyone. To Paul he gave a computerized day planner; for Becca, he had brought a cashmere sweater set that made her squeal with delight; Donna received an elegant gold watch, set with a diamond chip.
“Brandon, this is too much,” Donna exclaimed, admiring the watch. She and Paul had given him a nice sweater and a medical text on CD-ROM that Lindsay had said he wanted, and until that moment, she had considered them suitable gifts. Now she realized Brandon’s family must celebrate Christmas on a much more lavish scale than the Jorgensons did, and she wondered if he would think them cheap. He seemed pleased by their appreciation of his gifts, however, so she decided not to fuss about it, and to make it up to him on his birthday.
After the last present had been unwrapped and admired, they were sitting around the Christmas tree chatting when suddenly Brandon slapped his thighs, smiled at Lindsay, and said, “Well, honey? Should we hit the road?”
“Already?” Donna protested. Brandon smiled amiably, but Lindsay looked uncomfortable. “You haven’t even had dessert yet.”
“Thanks, but we don’t want dessert.” Brandon stacked up his gifts and rose, then turned to Lindsay. “Are you ready?”
Lindsay hastened to gather her boxes. “Thanks for everything,” she said, her voice apologetic. “Dinner was great, Mom.”
“Dessert will be great, too,” Becca said. “Mom made apple pie especially for you. Don’t go yet. It’s not even dark outside.”
Lindsay hesitated, and glanced at Brandon, who smiled regretfully and shook his head. “I’m afraid we can’t,” he said. “My parents are expecting us, and it’s a long drive. We’re going to have dessert there.” He headed for the front door. “Come on, honey. Let’s go.”
“At least let me pack you some gingerbread cookies,” Donna said, her face growing hot. She realized with alarm that she was on the verge of bursting into tears. It’s been a nice afternoon, she scolded herself. Don’t ruin it with a tantrum. She hurried into the kitchen and filled a cookie tin with gingerbread men, then filled a second for Brandon’s parents. By the time she joined the family in the foyer, Brandon had already left to carry their presents out to the car.
Donna hugged her daughter tightly. “I wish you didn’t have to go so soon.”
Lindsay clung to her, burying her face in her mother’s shoulder as she used to when she was a little girl. “I’m sorry. I want to stay.”
Suddenly Donna felt awful for making her daughter feel guilty. “It’s all right,” she said briskly, releasing Lindsay and forcing herself to smile. “I have to share you with your future in-laws. I’m sure they want to see their son as much as we want to see you.”
Wordlessly Lindsay nodded and took the cookies, then gave her father and sister quick hugs before hurrying outside to the car, her coat still unfastened.
As they drove away, Donna shut the door against the winter cold.
They returned to the family room, their spirits greatly subdued. Before long Becca excused herself to go to her room to try on her new Christmas clothes, and Paul turned on the television to watch the rest of the football game. Or perhaps it was another game. Donna didn’t know and she didn’t much care.
She retreated to her quilt room to page through the pattern books Lindsay had given her, but before long she pushed them aside and switched on the computer. She sent Christmas greetings to Megan and Grace, and hoped they were having a happier holiday than she was. After shutting down the computer, she went to her sewing machine to work on the block she had begun for the Challenge Quilt. She had chosen the Hen and Chicks pattern as a teasing reminder of how she played the mother hen to her two girls, and how she had henpecked Lindsay into returning to the university. It had been easier to poke fun at herself then, when she thought everything would be fine as long as Lindsay continued her education. Lindsay was back in school now and doing well, but Donna felt worse than ever. Brandon was charming, but there was something else beneath the charm, something that troubled her.
“Mom?”
Donna started and turned around in her chair. Becca stood in the doorway, her expression unhappy. “Yes, honey?”
“Something’s bothering me,” Becca said. “First Brandon said they didn’t want dessert, but then he said they were going to have dessert at his parents’ house.”
Donna hadn’t noticed, but even now, this seemed insignificant compared to some of his other behaviors. “I suppose when he said they didn’t want dessert, he meant that they didn’t want it here, because they were going to eat at his parents’ later.”
“I thought of that, but I wanted to know for sure.” Becca hesitated. “So I checked.”
“You checked?”
“I called their apartment.”
“Becca, you didn’t.”
“I couldn’t help it. I was worried.” She crossed the room and sat down on the floor to put her head in her mother’s lap. “They were home. Lindsay answered, but when she found out it was me, she said she couldn’t talk and hung up. Mom, there wasn’t enough time for them to do anything but go straight home.”
Donna stroked her daughter’s hair. “Maybe they stopped home to pick up something on their way.”
Becca pushed herself away from her mother. “Why are you always making excuses for him? Can’t you see what a jerk he is? He lied to us, and Lindsay turns into a little mouse around him! Am I the only one in this family with a clue?”
“Okay, honey,” Donna soothed, holding out her arms. Becca scowled at her stubbornly for a moment before allowing herself to be pulled into a hug. “I’m not as clueless as you think. I agree that Brandon …” She struggled to find the right words, but her feelings were so jumbled that she failed. “He does seem a bit domineering.”
“A bit?”
“Well, the holidays are stressful, and you know what Lindsay says about medical school. He’s under a lot of pressure. Maybe he was just having a bad day.”
“All his days are bad.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t see him every day, not the way Lindsay does. She knows him better than we do, and she wouldn’t settle for anything less than a good, kind man who treated her well, would she?”
“Maybe she’s confused,” Becca persisted. “People do stupid things when they’re in love. Remember that time in seventh grade when I called John Richardson’s house fifteen times in one day and hung up as soon as someone answered the phone?”
“I thought you said it was only those two times your father caught you on the phone.”
“That’s what I told him, but it was really more like fifteen.”
Donna laughed and hugged her. “Okay, you’re right. People do foolish things when they’re in love, but Lindsay is sensible, and agreeing to marry someone isn’t in the same league as prank phone calls.”
“They weren’t prank calls. I just got too nervous to stay on the line.”
“Either way.” Donna sighed. “Honey, maybe Brandon isn’t the man we would have picked for Lindsay, but it’s not up to us. What’s important is that Lindsay is happy. If they love each other, we’ll only ruin things if we don’t welcome him into our family.”
Becca looked her straight in the eye. “Do you think Lindsay is happy?”
“I hope she is,” Donna said carefully. “I can’t believe she would marry him if she didn’t believe she and Brandon would be happy together. That’s not what I taught you girls.”
“Maybe Lindsay didn’t learn as well as you think she did.”
The doubts that had nagged Donna for months now erupted in a frenzy of warning. Yes, this was what she feared, this was what she was afraid to face, that somehow she h
ad failed to teach Lindsay something intrinsic to her future happiness. She thought back to when the girls were young, and she would overhear them swearing or discover one picking on the other. “What are you doing?” she would scold, astonished anew to discover that her angelic little girls could be vulgar or spiteful. “You didn’t learn that in this house. In this house, people are kind to each other.”
She longed to take Lindsay in her arms and ask her why she let her fiancé determine when she could visit her family and for how long, why she let him intimidate her into covering up his lie, why she hung up on her sister rather than let Brandon know they were speaking. You didn’t learn that in this house—but Lindsay had learned it somewhere, and Donna was at a loss, uncertain what to do about it, how to teach her daughter at this late date something she should have been learning all her life.
Suddenly grief welled up in her throat. She wished she had the words to reassure Becca, but she couldn’t even reassure herself. For months the Cross-Country Quilters had been encouraging her to trust her instincts, but her feelings were so muddled that she hadn’t known what to say. Now she realized she couldn’t let another day pass without speaking frankly to Lindsay. She knew she risked offending and possibly alienating her daughter by voicing doubts about the man she loved, but surely Lindsay would understand. Surely when Donna asked her if this is what was she truly wanted and reminded her that it was not too late to back out, Lindsay would know that she was speaking from the heart, as a mother who wanted only what was best for her child.
She picked up the phone beside the computer. “Are you calling her?” Becca asked.
Donna nodded and listened to the phone ringing, once, twice, a third time—and then, finally, her daughter’s voice. “Hello?”
“Lindsay, it’s Mom.”
“Oh.” Lindsay’s voice lowered to a whisper. “What is it?”
“Why are you whispering?”
“I’m not,” Lindsay said, and her voice returned to a normal volume, almost. “Is something wrong?”
That’s what Donna wanted to know. “Sweetheart, I need to ask you something and I want you to give me an honest answer.” She steeled herself. “Are you sure you want to go through with this marriage? Are you sure you and Brandon will be happy together?”
An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler Page 84