“Still no Argan?” Ronnie asked. She took charge of a massive obsidian horse as if she’d known him since birth. He stilled in her presence.
Skylar shook her head.
“I’m sorry,” Ronnie said.
They walked the horse to his temporary home in the barn. Skylar shook off her bad feelings about Argan and focused on Rhia.
“Are you getting excited for Santa?” Skylar asked her, trying to sound upbeat.
“Yes, most definitely,” Rhia said. “But it’s okay, Skylar, I know the secret about Santa.”
“Secret?” Skylar froze.
“Yes, that he’s Mom’s Spirit Guide. He helps her pick out the presents, but she’s in charge of wrapping them.”
“Right. Glad you know the truth.” Skylar winked. “There’s no fooling you ever.” Skylar had forgotten the calming effect Rhia had on her. It felt good. It was similar to the peace she’d felt in the Grotto.
Rhia scampered between the stalls, welcoming the raucous horses.
Skylar walked with Ronnie back to the trailer to retrieve the last horse. “It’s so good to see you,” she said. She studied her former boss, wondering how much she knew about Ocean’s true identity. She figured it was more than she let on.
“It feels good to be here,” Ronnie said. “Although this monstrosity is disappointing.” She gestured to Milicent’s building. She shook her head, climbed into the trailer, and approached the last horse. He was the quietest of the lot. He seemed lost without his trailer mates and kept his head bent down as Ronnie led him out. She gave his muscular flank a reassuring pat and looked up at Skylar. “How are you doing? Is Ocean helping you . . . sort things out?”
“She told you,” Skylar said.
“She did. I’m sure she left out the good parts.”
“There are no good parts.”
“The good will present itself. It always does,” Ronnie said. “I’m here when you need to talk.”
“Thank you.” Skylar appreciated Ronnie’s concern. Her thoughts traveled to her belly. She had experienced no physical changes, no pregnancy symptoms of any kind yet. It suddenly occurred to her she hadn’t even taken a test. She touched Ronnie’s shoulder. “I know this is asking a lot, but would you consider coming to my house later? It’s time to take a test.”
“You wouldn’t rather ask Suki?” Ronnie asked.
“I’m not sure how much of this supernatural stuff she can handle,” Skylar said. That night, Skylar sat on her bed with a bag of newly purchased pregnancy tests and the Book of Akasha. Ronnie sat beside her.
“What are the odds they will tell me the same thing?” she asked Ronnie.
“My money’s on the book,” Ronnie said. “When I was carrying Rhia, I took four pregnancy tests and they were all negative— even the one the doctor gave me. Some lives are too amazing to be recognized with our limited technologies.”
“All right,” Skylar said. She was getting faster at finding the information she sought in her ever-changing book. She opened it and scanned to several months ahead of present day:
As I held the baby, one teardrop fell from my eye and landed on the top of his perfect head.
Skylar paused and took in a deep breath. “It’s a boy!” she said, feigning enthusiasm. “I can’t have his baby, Ronnie! This is crazy!”
“Take a test,” Ronnie said. She handed Skylar a purple box.
Skylar opened the box and headed for the bathroom.
As she peed on the white bristles, she prayed that it was negative. “Magda, if you’re listening, a baby is definitely not part of Plan B.” She washed her hands as the test pulsed on the counter like a ticking stick of dynamite. She looked into the bathroom mirror. She looked old.
She came out of the bathroom holding the ticking stick by one end. “Modern methods concur with ancient texts.” She handed it to Ronnie.
Ronnie looked at the double blue line, and her face fell. “I’m so sorry, Skylar. We’ll figure it out.” She hugged Skylar tight.
Skylar had already figured it out. She was not having this baby. She went to the kitchen to get some water and heard a light knock at the door. She opened it, full of apprehension—and found her friend on the other side.
“Suki? What’s up?”
“I had a fight with my grandmother, and I didn’t know where else to go.” Suki saw Ronnie standing in the living room and hesitated. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
Skylar let out a big sigh and invited her in. It was time to let Suki in on the rest of Plan B.
The next day, Skylar gave Joel a call from her tiny porch. It was already steamy outside, so she had poured her coffee over ice. “Hi, Dad,” she said into the phone.
“Morning, pumpkin.” He sounded tired.
“Rough night?” Skylar asked.
“Rachel had me up until three in the morning,” he said.
“Do I want to know this?” Skylar asked jokingly.
Joel cleared his throat. “I mean, she was upset and wanted to talk. I’m no good with that stuff.”
“I didn’t know Rachel had feelings.” Skylar regretted the words the moment they came out. “Sorry. That was rude.”
“Pumpkin, I know she’s never been your favorite person. But she’s been through a lot in her life. If you had ever attempted a relationship with her, maybe you would be more understanding.”
“Me?” Skylar felt an instant rage within her gut—one that her body quickly betrayed when her eyes filled with tears. “What about her? She’s always been the adult here. I’ve only known the over-medicated, bitter shell of a person she’s shown me. Honestly, Dad, how have you stayed with her all these years? Is being alone such a bad alternative?” Her true feelings refused to be corked any longer.
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. “I don’t know what to say, Skylar,” he said calmly. He never called her Skylar. “She’s a good woman. Is she the love of my life? No. Your mother took that spot . . . but that didn’t work out. Sometimes you have to make the best with what you’ve got.”
“You mean settle,” Skylar said.
“Look, she’s going through a hard time right now. Her mother is sick . . . among other things.”
Skylar wanted to tell him that she was going through a hard time too but remained silent.
“I was going to give you a call today,” he said. “We’d like you to come stay with us for a few days over Christmas. Like the old times. The house isn’t as decorated as it used to be, but it’s still nice. And it would be wonderful to have you here.”
Now Skylar was the one to take pause. “That would be nice,” she said quietly.
After her call with Joel, Skylar went into the kitchen. Michael jumped up on the counter as she walked in.
“I have to go away for a few days, but I’ll come back and check on you every so often,” she said. He stared at her, and she accepted his silence as his approval of the plan. She rummaged through a low cabinet, looking for a pot to boil some water. Every time she opened that cupboard she looked past her mother’s pile of cookbooks, most of them untouched. Her mom had always had grand plans to make gourmet meals, but days had come and gone without a grand meal. “Too much work,” she used to say.
Skylar picked up the one cookbook that had ever gotten use, Betty Crocker circa 1960. It had been her grandmother’s. She flipped through the pages. Handwritten recipes and notes were tucked into the book here and there. Skylar stared at the recipe for tomato sauce. She touched the paper with her fingertips. It was beautifully written in Cassie’s flowery script. The words had life in them, there on the page. For just a moment, space and time dissolved, and Skylar felt her mother’s love once again.
“I miss you, Mom,” she said achingly. She put the recipe back in the book and put the book aside. This is the only one I’ll keep. But then she thought she might use the others one day and put them all back in the cabinet and shut the door.
A wave of nostalgia swept over Skylar after finding that cookbo
ok. She went up to the closet her mother had kept all her mementos in. Organization had never been her forte, but the closet had to be neat; being so small, every inch was precious. Skylar pulled out a large box tucked in the corner on the floor. It was filled to the top with pictures from Skylar’s younger years. They were all in a heap, not an album in sight. If cooking didn’t warrant Cassie’s time, picture albums weren’t even a passing thought.
Skylar enjoyed looking through her mother’s box of memories. It contained records of life before Joel moved out, life before Rachel. There were pictures of Joel in grade school and as a long-haired teen that made Skylar laugh out loud. There were pictures of Skylar as a child with the horses on Joel’s farm, too.
She gasped as she picked up the next photo. “Argan.” Her dad had taken it of the two of them at the end of their summer together. Skylar smiled. He’d been handsome even then. Time had passed, yet he was the same. He was timeless. She kept that picture out to bring downstairs.
After she had gone through every photo, she put the box back in the closet. For some reason it wouldn’t fit in the way it had before, and Skylar had to do some rearranging of boxes to get everything back in. During her reorganization efforts, she saw a jewelry box she hadn’t seen before, and she pulled it out.
This box had more of Cassie’s collection of gold-encrusted baubles. The over-the-top jewelry that made her cringe as a teen now made her long to see it on her mother once more. She picked through the jumble of strands and discovered her jumping medal from high school sophomore year amid the mess. Skylar untangled it. She’d never known her mother had made it into a necklace. She put it around her neck, and the horse and rider lay perfectly on top of her henna tattoo.
Skylar continued to go through the jewelry box. Under the jumble of necklaces, there was a black velvet ring box. Her heart beat a bit faster. Maybe her mother’s ouroboros ring would be in here. It wasn’t—but her modest engagement ring was. She remembered her mother telling her the story of how she bought it herself, as Joel wasn’t the ring-buying kind of guy. It was such a contrast to the rock on Rachel’s finger. That diamond must be at least four carats. This gold ring held three minuscule diamonds set in a diagonal of etched starbursts. She had to force it on her ring finger, but it fit. Her mother’s hands had been very petite. Skylar’s were not.
The sun moved into view through the loft window. Skylar was surprised to see it so low in the sky. Somehow, she had been in the loft most of the day. She gathered the few pictures she had taken out, including the one of Argan, and headed to her room to pack.
“Hiya, pumpkin!” Joel said as he walked through the door after work. “Winter’s back,” he said, hanging up his coat. “What smells so amazing?”
“Mom’s sauce,” Skylar said as she stirred the pot of bubbling red liquid with a wooden spoon.
“That takes me back,” Joel said. He inhaled the scent of garlic and oregano, then took a fresh spoon from the drawer and tasted the sauce. “Mmmm. Just like I remember. How’d you do that?”
“I found Mom’s old recipe book. Will Rachel be home soon?”
“She shouldn’t be too late,” he said. “She’s at her mother’s.” He gave Skylar a big hug. “You look good, but tired. Are you getting enough sleep?”
Skylar wanted to burst into tears and confess to Joel that she was pregnant and let the chips fall where they may, but that would ruin Christmas for sure. She had no intention of ever telling him. “I probably could use a bit more sleep,” she said. “I’ll set the table.”
Skylar set the formal dining room table for three. None of them, Rachel included, cared for the dining room decor. It had been painted a wretched eggplant in the early 2000s and been abandoned for the bright kitchen table ever since.
“I guess Christmas requires dining fine, huh?” her dad asked, peering into the purple room.
“I know how you like to enjoy your meals at the table,” Skylar said.
The doorbell rang and Joel’s head shot up.
Skylar gave him a puzzled look as she walked to the door. “Does Rachel need help with packages? Or does Santa use the doorbell these days?” She opened the door and lost her breath. Argan stood on the step holding a bottle of scotch adorned with a red bow. His cheeks and ears were pink from the frigid air.
Joel came up behind her and shook Argan’s hand. “Welcome! Merry Christmas, my boy! Come in, come in!”
Argan greeted Joel and looked at Skylar. “Merry Christmas, Skylar,” he said and walked past her into the house without waiting for a response. Skylar stood motionless at the opened door. It was unclear how much her dad knew, but it was unlikely she would have a private moment to ask him. She closed the door and walked into the kitchen. Joel was already pouring drinks.
“Dad, you didn’t tell me we were having guests,” she said awkwardly.
“Argan’s not a guest, pumpkin,” he said, taking Argan’s coat.
“I’ll set another place,” Skylar said, red-faced. She needed an excuse to leave the room anyway. She went into the dining room and pulled out another place setting from the breakfront. She began to feel nauseous. She pressed her cool hands onto her face to calm herself down.
When she returned to the kitchen, Rachel was there, and she and Joel were asking Argan about his career.
“Pumpkin, you didn’t tell me Argan left the barn,” Joel said.
Skylar shrugged. “Hadn’t had a chance, Dad,” she said. “Hi, Rachel. Merry Christmas.” She gave Rachel a hug.
“The sauce smells amazing, Skylar,” Rachel said. “Your mom would be proud.”
“Thank you,” Skylar said. She glanced at Argan. He was wandering the kitchen.
“The place sure has changed,” he said.
“We’ve remodeled a few times.” Rachel chuckled. “Argan, how about we put you in charge of garlic bread?”
“Love to,” he said, diving right into his task. Rachel and Joel worked on the salad.
Skylar closed the distance between herself and Argan. “Why did you come here?” she whispered.
“I ran into your dad and he invited me,” he said coldly.
“Where did you run into him?” she asked. “Where have you been?”
He finished cutting the bread and walked away from her, ignoring her questions.
Rachel seated Skylar and Argan next to each other. Skylar didn’t know how she would get through this meal. They toasted the holiday and Skylar’s spaghetti dinner.
“A small part of Cassie is here tonight,” Joel said, his glass still held in the air. “In spirit and in sauce.”
A tear escaped Skylar’s eye and splashed onto her plate. She was sure she would crack from the pressure of the evening. Argan noticed and gave her hand a squeeze. She looked at him, but his face was expressionless.
Joel spent the dinner hour telling stories of the latest intern mishaps. They usually involved minor explosions and lost facial hair. It was obvious he was trying to keep the mood light.
Skylar noticed Rachel hadn’t touched much of her meal but didn’t say anything. It had been years since she had seen her eat a carbohydrate.
“I see you found your mom’s ring,” Joel suddenly said, staring at Skylar’s hand.
Argan looked at her. “Is it—”
Skylar shook her head no. It wasn’t the ouroboros. She looked at her dad. “I hope that’s okay. I like it,” she said, wiggling her fingers in the air.
“Of course,” Joel said, glancing at Rachel, who suddenly took a bite of her dinner.
“I had fun going through some of her jewelry and old photos today,” Skylar said. She looked briefly at Argan and then back to her dad. “There were some of you in your younger days but none of her. Do you have any?”
He looked again at Rachel, who gave the slightest nod without looking up. “Yes, I might, actually,” he said. “I’ll look after dinner.”
Argan helped Rachel clear the table while Skylar followed Joel down to his home lab. She couldn’t remember the last tim
e she had been down there. They walked past various metal contraptions resembling miniature Ferris wheels attached to boxy, outdated computer monitors. Lights, heat sensors, microscopes, and stacks of paper were piled all over in a mad scientist sort of way. Joel felt around behind a box resembling a toaster oven and pulled out a key, then unlocked a closet door tucked away in the back of his lab.
Inside the closet, boxes of dusty, obsolete items shared shelf space with boxes of newer obsolete items. It all looked like dump-ster matter to Skylar. Joel pulled down a banker’s box from the top shelf and handed it to Skylar. She set it on the counter that ran the length of the small closet. Inside the box were manila folders filled with old tax papers. A few photographs lay scattered at the bottom of the box. She picked them up. They were well-worn and yellowed from age. One was her mom’s high school senior portrait. One was her parents’ wedding photo. One showed them holding Skylar as an infant. Her mother seemed to be the same age in all of them.
“That’s all I’ve got. Your mother was never one for paperwork, so I kept the tax files. I guess I can toss these now.” He held the stack of files in his hands.
Skylar gave him a kiss on the cheek and a big hug. “Thank you,” she said. As they walked through the lab, she stopped at another toaster oven–sized metal box. “What does this do?” she asked, trying to sound interested in his work.
“It breaks down DNA strands into readable chunks for geeks like me to decipher,” he said.
“Huh. Neat,” she said.
When they came back upstairs, Argan had his coat on. “Thank you for including me in your holiday meal, Mr. Southmartin,” he said.
“Hey, Skylar did all the work,” Joel said. “Don’t be a stranger.” They shook hands and Rachel gave him a hug.
“Argan, can you wait just a moment?” Skylar asked. She ran up to her room and grabbed the old photo of them off of her nightstand. When she got back downstairs, Joel and Rachel had disappeared.
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