by Linda Apple
Regina’s face flamed and Glen groaned. “Sis. Really?”
Not to be outdone, Regina mouthed at Glen, “I’m off at eleven.”
Glen gave a slight nod. This, of course, was not missed by Ty.
Distractions. They happen.
****
Christmas morning dawned gunmetal gray. Ty watched the dark, pregnant clouds while he sipped his coffee and thought over the conversations he had with his kids the previous evening. Avalee would be thrilled when she heard his news. In fact, she’d probably be more excited about Skye and Glen’s approval than any gift he purchased for her. She asked him to come over around ten for Christmas brunch with her and Miss Cladie, saying she wanted some private time with him before the big feast that evening.
He checked his watch. Five-thirty. While pouring his second cup of coffee, he debated about going to his parents’ before going to the Prestons’ for brunch. He had made up his mind to ignore them completely, not even inviting them to the wedding. But his little epiphany the night before when he had all but quoted his mother’s words while admonishing his daughter about the NFL wannabe—Duff was it?—made him reconsider. Even though his mother came across as impossibly rude to Avalee, underneath, perhaps, there was honest concern. Maybe her fear sharpened her tone and exaggerated her imaginations. And while this was no excuse, it still helped him understand her a little better.
Yes, he should go and at least have a cup of coffee. He’d keep the conversation light then slip out to Ava’s. Next decision. Should he give his parents the present he made for them? Lord knows how hard he worked on it. Months earlier, he insisted on taking a family portrait. His parents balked because, of course, Marc wasn’t there to be in it. But Ty had a plan. When they finally consented, Ty set up his camera, moved furniture out of the way, and arranged two chairs in front of the fireplace. He had his parents sit, then he set the timer and stood behind them. First part of the plan finished. Then, for the second part. He needed a picture of his brother. Thursdays were his mother’s beauty shop day and his dad’s standing golf game. After they had left he went to the house and looked through pictures until he found the perfect one for his project.
He worked into the night photo-shopping Marc into the family portrait, placing him directly behind his mother. He aged Marc a bit to appear more authentic and manipulated the picture to make it appear as if Marc rested his hand on Emma’s shoulder. When he finished he felt pleased with the results. Those who were not aware of the family’s tragedy would have no idea that Marc hadn’t been there standing for the portrait.
Ty rinsed out his coffee cup and set it in the sink. Yes, he’d take it to them. Perhaps the portrait would help his mother realize Ty understood her pain. He wished, more than believed, it would also help her understand the prison she’d built around her heart.
****
Emma and Marcus Jackson’s home reflected the austerity of the morning—gloomy and frigid. No Christmas trees stood in the two picture windows on either side of the entryway as there had been when Marc was alive. Nor were there wreaths on the stately double doors.
What a shame. He shook his head while tapping the brass knocker against the strike plate. Doris, the housekeeper, answered his tapping.
“Good morning Tyler.” She stepped aside for him to pass. “Come on in. You’ll catch your death out there.”
He frowned at the plump little woman. “What are you doing working on Christmas?” Had mother turned into Ebenezer Scrooge?
She angled her head up at him and grinned. “Now what would I be doing celebrating Christmas? Hanukkah, yes. Christmas…Well….” She spread her fingers and twisted her hand back and forth. “Only if the food is good.”
“Oh, I forgot.” How did he not know after all these years Doris was Jewish? “Well, at least it is good to know my parents haven’t been swallowed up in a bah, humbug, frame of mind.”
She ducked her head and murmured in a conspiratorial tone, “Your folks are not really happy with you at the moment.” She placed her palm on Tyler’s arm. “Now I’m not one for telling folks how to run their business, but I’d tread lightly if I were you.”
“Doris?” His mother called from the living room. “Who is that at the door?”
“It’s Tyler, ma’am.” She gave him a firm grandmotherly look and held up her finger. “Lightly….”
His parents sat in their usual chairs drinking their morning coffee. Sections of the newspaper lay in their laps. Both remained silent as they watched him enter the room. Uncomfortable didn’t begin to describe the atmosphere. However, he made the decision to come so he might as well take the plunge.
“I came by to wish you a Merry Christmas.” Silence. He wasn’t surprised. Christmas hadn’t been merry since Marc’s death. “And I brought you something.”
He propped the eleven-by-fourteen package on the couch. “Mom. Dad. I’m sorry about the other night. I’ve had time to think and I honestly do not know what I’d do if either of my kids died. All I know is how it feels to be the brother who was left behind.” These words eased the tension in the room and genuine interest shown in their faces. “I made this for you. I hope you like it.”
Ty motioned for his mother to open it. She stood and stepped over to the couch. When she tore the paper free from the portrait, she slapped her hand against her mouth and gasped. His dad walked behind her and stared. “My god.”
His parents studied the portrait in speechless bewilderment. After a long while, they tore their attention from the picture and focused on Ty with red, tear-filled eyes. He couldn’t read their faces. Did they hate it? Had he taken too much liberty? Instead of healing, did he just rip open old wounds?
As if in answer to his wondering mind, his mother strode over, fell on him, and held him tight while sobbing on his shoulder. He noticed his father had removed his glasses and mopped his eyes with a handkerchief.
“Mom? Dad? Do you like it?”
His mother released her hold on him and joined his dad to admire the portrait. In a hoarse whisper his father said, “You’ve given us the greatest gift since the birth of you boys.” He put his arm around his wife. “You’ve rekindled the light in this holiday.”
“Thank you, son.” His mother gently touched Marc’s image. “You will never know what it means to me to see our family whole again.”
For the first time, Ty noticed how frail his mother looked. Even more so since the cancer treatments.
“Coffee everyone.” Doris carried a tray of cookies, a carafe, and cups. She arranged them on the coffee table, then straightened up and examined the picture. Crossing her arms, she nodded. “That’s right nice, Tyler.” She gave him a nod. “Really nice.”
The next couple of hours were some of the most pleasant in memory. They reminisced past Christmases, even laughed. How long since they had laughed together? He checked his watch and saw he had five minutes to get to Avalee’s. When he stood, his mother reached her hand to him. “Must you go? I could have Doris make us a nice lunch.”
Man, he dreaded bringing up Avalee. “I’m going to Avalee’s for brunch.”
“Oh.” She sat back and sighed. Weary resignation colored her voice. “I see.”
His father cleared his throat and joined Ty. “Thank you again, son. Please send Avalee and her mother our regards.”
“Thanks, Dad. I will.” He side-hugged his dad and leaned over to kiss his mom’s cheek. Her skin felt as thin as tissue paper. How had he missed this?
In an abrupt about-face, she turned her glare on him. “Your father may send regards, but I do not.” Her mouth formed a hard pucker. She rose to her feet and stalked out of the room.
The lamb had turned back into a lion.
Chapter Four
Having myself a merry little Christmas.
~Avalee Preston
I love Christmas. It really is the most wonderful time of the year. Especially this year. The yellow cuckoo bird slid out of his chalet and chirped ten times. Ty would arrive at any min
ute. I wanted to surprise him with his favorite breakfast treat, toasted pound cake. Earlier I had slathered thick slices of pound cake with butter and arranged them on the tray. Now all I had to do was slide it in and switch on the toaster.
Sounds of chairs scraping and flatware clattering came from the dining room. Momma was in her element setting the table for a holiday feast. She had invited our handyman Felix, Pearly Armstrong from across the street, Jema and Levi, Lexi, Molly Kate and Stan, as well as MK’s daughter and granddaughters. But Molly had a change of plans. Seems Stan’s brood had decided to visit. This put a momentary damper on Mother’s holiday enthusiasm, but she recovered and seeing how she hated empty spaces at her table, she now busied herself rearranging to accommodate eight instead of thirteen. Poor woman. She cooked enough for thirty. Then again, no food ever went to waste. Leftovers were sent home with guests and also given to Life Source.
“Baby?” Mom pushed through the swinging door separating the kitchen from the dining room. “What time is Ty supposed to be here? The breakfast casserole will be ready soon, and you know how I hate serving cold food.”
Before I could answer, Ty pulled into the driveway. I lifted my palm toward the kitchen window. “There you go, Momma. Your word is his command.”
“Good boy, that one. Now you hop on outta here while I finish up. Did you set up the tables in the front room?”
“Yes ma’am. Everything is ready.”
“All right then.”
The doorbell rang. “Why doesn’t that boy come to the kitchen door? He’s good as family now.” Momma nodded her head in the general direction of the front door. “Don’t keep him waiting. It’s colder than a polar bear’s toenails out there. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was fixing to snow; I don’t care what the weatherman says.”
Snow in the south was a very rare happening, especially on Christmas day. Normally, snow held no fascination for me after living in New York for so long. But on this particular day, it did. I had to admit, it really did look like snow. But here in the south, winter weather usually wound up being ice.
When I opened the door, Ty stepped in, grabbed me, and swung me around before pulling me into a deep kiss.
“Wow.” I had to catch my breath. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”
He closed the door and shrugged of his coat. “I have good news for a nice change.”
“Really?” I took his coat and hung it on the hall tree. “What?”
“Let’s go in the family room first.”
“How about a mimosa?”
“Sounds great.” He sniffed the air. “Is that your momma’s breakfast casserole?”
“Sure is.”
“Oh man, I can’t wait. Where is Miss Cladie? I gotta kiss that little lady.” Once again, my mother proved the clichéd wisdom about the way to a man’s heart.
“Tyler Jackson.” Momma swung through the door with her arms held open wide. “Get over here and give your future mother-in-love a hug.”
While my fiancé and Momma cuddled, I slid the pound cake into the toaster and switched it on before starting the mimosas. Soon the aroma of vanilla and toasted brown butter filled the air. Ty opened his eyes wide, and he looked down at Mom. “Toasted pound cake?”
“Hey.” I punched him on the shoulder. “That was my idea. You need to give me some of that foodie love.”
He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. “No problem.”
“All right, you two. I’m going to leave you to your sparking and pull out that cake before it burns. Brunch will be ready in two shakes.”
Ty took my hand and led me to the couch in the family room where we settled and watched the fire in the hearth. Red, green, blue, and yellow lights twinkled in the tree as Bing Crosby crooned carols on the CD player. Holiday perfection. We clinked our glasses and sipped our drinks. Leaning against him I marveled at how this man loved me. Me. Avalee Preston, spinster, twelve years his senior. This tall, dark-eyed, incredibly handsome, fun, talented, man loved me. “So, what’s your good news?”
“I had supper with Skye and Glen last night. I told them about us.”
“And?”
A smile broke across his face. “They are happy for us.”
Oh, the relief. “They are?”
“Well, at first, Skye was concerned. Mother told Skye her version of what happened and of course, you were the villain.”
I slunk back into the cushions. “Great.”
He slipped his arm around my shoulders and nudged close. “Babe, don’t worry. I set her straight. And….”
The guilty look on his face bothered me. “And?”
“Well, I did a little name dropping. I hope you won’t be angry. But I knew this would open an avenue to you both being friends for life.”
“Whose name?”
“Nathan Wolfe. Skye is a journalism student and I knew this would be a game changer.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
“Until she floods you with questions.”
“She’ll have the opportunity to ask him herself soon, seeing how he invited himself to Jema’s wedding, just so he could be with Lex.”
“Lexi is really gone over him, too, isn’t she? Because if she isn’t, you might want to tell him to back off.” Ty had a brotherly-type of protectiveness when it came to Lex.
“Looks like it. But I get the feeling it is more him than her. She isn’t like any woman he’s been with that I remember. Most fawn over him because of his fame. But not Lex. She’s determined to bring him down several notches, and he likes it.”
“She’s the woman to do it.”
“Nate wanted her to come to New York for New Year’s Eve, and she turned him down. Which shocked him, I’m sure. No woman turns Nathan Wolfe down for anything. I mean, a date in the city for New Year’s, all expenses paid?” I tapped my empty mimosa glass. “But she did because it was Jema’s wedding.”
Ty caught my hint and rose to make us another. Funny how things happen. Levi was the reason for Nathan’s first visit to Moonlight. He came to investigate the Matthew Abrams kidnapping after being told large purchases of commercial washers and dryers had been made by Abrams’ company and delivered to Life Source. When Nathan met Levi, a mysterious homeless man, he immediately suspected him as the kidnapper and in turn made everyone else suspicious as well. Everyone, that is, except for Jema and Mother. And their instincts about Levi were right. He was an excellent man. But none of us expected him to be a billionaire trying to find life and love outside of his wealth.
Ty returned and said, “Our drinks are on the table. The food is ready and I’m starved. Let’s eat.”
“Me too. Let’s.”
I followed him to the kitchen where Momma handed us each a plate and said, “Get it while it’s hot.”
“Yes, ma’am. You don’t have to ask me twice.” He scooped egg, sausage, asparagus and mushroom casserole on his plate, piled on pan-fried potatoes and onions, took several pieces of bacon, sliced open two biscuits and smothered them with sausage gravy, then took two wedges of pound cake. Momma’s euphoric expression attested to the satisfaction she received when someone enjoyed her cooking.
I couldn’t produce the same level of pleasure as Ty, but I filled my plate for the first huge meal of the day.
****
Brunch left me food drunk. It was like a thick fog had rolled over my brain. As usual, Momma refused our offers to help her clean up, so we dragged ourselves to the couch. Thank goodness supper wasn’t until seven, which gave us plenty of time to recover for the next round of Olympic eating.
The room had grown dark even though it was late morning. The twinkling lights on the tree and the fire’s dancing flames shown brilliant in the shadowy room.
“How about some Frank Sinatra?” The comfort of a full tummy and a warm fire intensified my holiday spirit.
“Nobody can sing Christmas like him.”
“Except for Bing.”
“Except for Bing.”
&nb
sp; While selecting a CD, I glanced out the window. Was that? “Ty. Hurry. Come see.”
He jumped up and hurried to the window. “What?” His gaze followed mine. “Oh, wow.”
Huge snowflakes fell, blanketing the brown grass and frosting the tree branches. Mom must have seen the snow from the kitchen window while washing dishes. She strode into the room, wiping her hands on a towel. “Mercy Lord, have you ever seen such a sight? Her elven-blue eyes danced. “And on Christmas day at that.”
“Let’s go out in it.” Ty grabbed his coat.
A little girl squeal escaped my lips. I couldn’t help it. “Okay. Let’s. How about you, Momma?”
She shook her head. “I like watching it from here.” Slapping the towel over her shoulder, she said, “But I’ll have hot cocoa waiting on you to thaw you out when you come in.”
I grabbed my black quilted coat from the hall closet. I never thought I would need it here in the South and was glad I kept it. I threw it on and ran outside like a sixth grader. The frosty air nipped my nose as I held my face to the sky catching snowflakes on my tongue, feeling twelve again.
“Heads up.” A snowball burst against my chest. Ty’s triumphant grin was testosterone at its finest.
I gathered snow on the sly from a birdbath and held the ball behind me. “How about a snow kiss?”
“I’m up for that anytime.” Ty bounded to me and took me in his arms. He closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to mine only to have it filled with snow as I pushed my hidden weapon into his face. Startled he let me go and spit snow. “Why you little….”
I took off, but he caught me and pulled me down to the ground. Laughing, we rolled onto our backs and made snow angels. Snow in the city was never this fun. I sat up. “Hey, I have an idea.”
Ty turned his head to look at me. “What’s that?”
“Let’s go get Lexi.”
“I have a better idea. Let’s go to the park and swing.” He sprang to his feet. I couldn’t remember the last time I was able to do that. But it didn’t matter. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a warm, snow-melting kiss. “Now isn’t that better than cramming snow down my throat?”