Jeremy turns to us, frowning. “His mate? Well, I guess Uncle’s confused.”
Ethan’s signals something to Laura with his eyes.
“Brother dear,” she says, “how many girlfriends has Richard had?”
Jeremy’s face blanks as he thinks back. “Well … we’re not that close, so—”
Ethan sputters a laugh. “The answer is … zero.”
Jeremy looks to Laura who nods. One, two, three, four … “So Christopher is … bloody hell.”
“Hard to believe you never suspected,” Ethan says. “Especially since you so often referred to him as—”
“That was because he’s always been such an arse-kisser.”
“Literally,” Laura says, and Ethan gives her a high five. Jeremy scowls at them, knocks back his drink, and starts fixing another.
“Did Uncle actually call Chris Richard’s girlfriend?” I ask him.
“I … no. He said: ‘Richard is bringing his friend Chris’.”
“He emphasized the word friend?”
Jeremy nods, seemingly with reluctance, and slouches into the chair next to mine.
“Oh, right, Uncle knows,” Laura says. “I suppose your mum knows too,” she says to me.
Jeremy grunts. “Does Mum and Dad?”
“I expect Mum does.”
“You don’t think your Dad suspects, at least?” Ethan asks her.
Laura shrugs. “Jeremy didn’t.”
Jeremy rears back. “Well, neither did Chelsea.”
All eyes turn to me. “Well …”
Jeremy exhales sharply and sinks further into his chair.
Laura takes a gulp of her G&T. “So, apparently, Christmas Eve will be Richard’s coming out. Dad seems to be mellowing with age, but still, we should probably prepare to duck and cover when that closet door flings open.”
“Oh, no need,” I say. ‘Everything will be fine; we’re all family’, right Jeremy?”
He scowls at me over the rim of his glass.
Gordon and Amanda arrive the next morning and insist on taking everyone out to lunch at a 5-star in Beverly Hills. Of course. The food is good, and the conversation is pleasant—even between Gordon and Ethan. After the meal, Laura and Ethan go shopping, and Mom claims she has more Christmas preparations, so she and Uncle leave us too. Amanda says she wants to see the ocean, and Gordon would like somewhere quiet to get a drink, so Jeremy and I take them to a little seaside bar we like.
A few people are sitting outside in the sun, but we opt for a table inside with a great view of the ocean but still cozy enough for quiet conversation. Although I’ve come a long way from my first terrified meetings with Jeremy’s parents, I’m still tense, especially because I suspect this foursome was engineered, and I have no clue why. Barbara has agreed with Jeremy’s web research that one glass of wine or champagne over the holidays won’t harm the baby, and I’m seriously tempted to have it now, but I order an herbal iced tea with the option that, if the situation heads south, I can still go for the alcohol.
A basketball game on the TV above the bar starts Jeremy and his dad off on a discussion of some British team’s standings. Amanda and I sit and sip until she sees me react to a vicious kick from within. When I see that she’s staring at my baby bump, I ask if she’d like to feel for his movement.
She smiles. “Could I?”
I lay her hand where I’d felt the kick and will our son to greet his grandmother. A few seconds later, he does, and she squeals and then glances around, her hand covering her mouth.
Gordon looks our way. “What’s this?”
“She felt the baby kick,” I say.
“Did she? He’s plenty active, then?”
Jeremy grins. “Well set to be a footballer, I’d say.”
“Good show.” Gordon salutes my belly with his drink, then takes a sip and looks at Jeremy. “I’ve been remembering those days waiting for you to be born, son.”
“We feared I’d never get pregnant,” Amanda says. “We’d tried for almost two years.”
I’m surprised by their candor, but one look at Jeremy tells me he’s totally gobsmacked. (His word.)
“Yes,” Gordon says, “and then we worried the whole nine months something would go wrong.” He claps Jeremy on the back. “But you were born healthy and cantankerous as they come.”
Jeremy gulps the rest of his drink and signals for refills.
“Oh, stop that, Gordon,” Amanda says, “Jeremy was a good baby. But we had a time with you for the first few months of the pregnancy.”
Gordon grimaces and waves a dismissive hand at her.
There’s no way I’m not going to hear this story. “How so, Amanda?”
She giggles. “He had morning sickness right along with me.”
Gordon harrumphs. “They didn’t need to know that.”
Jeremy’s mouth is hanging open.
“I’ve read about that, I say. “Sympathetic pregnancy.”
“Yes,” Amanda says. “I thought it was sweet.”
Gordon takes her hand and smiles at her.
Now, my mouth drops open. What’s happened to stuffy old Gordon?
“It may have been sweet to you, Mandy, but it made working a challenge.” Gordon pauses while the drinks are served. “And speaking of work,”—he turns to Jeremy—“son, if you never take another word of advice from me, please take this one: never let your work take precedence over your family. You know better than anyone what damage that did to ours. The damage I did.”
“I … I won’t.”
“Good. But don’t repeat what I just said to your uncle. I won’t give that smart-arsed brother of mine the satisfaction of knowing he was right.” When Jeremy and I just stare at him, he grins and winks. “Now, what are we naming this grandson of mine?”
We spend a remarkably fun hour and a half at the bar with Amanda and Gordon. When Jeremy explains that I need to take a nap before we gather for dinner tonight, my protest is stopped by his nudge under the table. And when we drop them off at Mom’s house, we don’t go inside.
As we’re backing out of the driveway he says, “Can you believe that?”
“Which that do you mean?”
“All of it. Have you ever seen my parents act like that? Hell, I’ve never seen them act like that. Bloody hell. He called her Mandy. Did you hear that?”
“Yep, and he held her hand. What do you think’s going on?”
He shakes his head. “Amazing. I’m gobsmacked. Did I look gobsmacked?”
I laugh. “You did.”
“Do you think he noticed? Was he offended, do you think? And then he gave me fatherly advice—loving fatherly advice! Can you believe it?”
“Slow your breathing, husband, you’re going to hyperventilate.”
“Right. Wow.” He shakes his head slowly. “I’ve just never seen him like that. He seemed—”
“Human?”
He laughs. “Yeah, that too. But he seemed happy. Relaxed. It’s just … odd. For him, I mean.”
“You haven’t noticed a change when you talk to him on the phone?”
He frowns in silence for a moment. “Well … I guess I’m always on guard for criticism, but now that I think of it, we haven’t argued for a while. Not really.”
“I wonder why Laura didn’t mention his transformation?”
“Well, she’s always been on his good side, so maybe she didn’t notice a change. Besides, she’s been in Hawaii for most of this year past.”
“Maybe he’s just more relaxed away from home.”
“No, he hates traveling. Or he did. Who knows … now.” He slows the car to turn onto our street. “Sympathetic morning sickness? I nearly swallowed my tongue.”
“Yeah, that was funny. But it’s sweet too, like your mom said. Why didn’t you get sick with me?”
“Sorry.” He smiles and takes my hand. “My God, he held her hand and called her Mandy. It’s a miracle.” He hits the door remote and pulls into the garage.
“His advic
e was an apology, you know that, right?”
“It was, wasn’t it?” Jeremy leaves the engine running as he sits stroking the stubble on his chin. “He’s done that before … apologized. In his way.”
“And you’ve brushed him off.”
He glances at me sideways.
“I’ve heard you do it.”
He hangs his head. “I need to let it go, don’t I?”
“You do. And now, you definitely do. You don’t want to have to explain to our son why you have this thing against his grandfather.”
He lays his hand at the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. “Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you’re my wife?”
“Oh … maybe once or twice.”
He’s about to kiss me again when Ethan and Laura walk through the open garage door. Ethan knocks on the driver’s side window. “Get a room, mate.”
Jeremy kills the engine and opens his door. “Hey, you won’t believe this …”
Finally, it’s Christmas Eve. Everyone is here, smiling and drinking and chatting, and it’s not too crowded after all. Jeremy found the perfect place for the Christmas tree—we only had to move a shelving unit—and he helped me decorate it. It’s awesome! We have dozens of lit candles tucked here and there, and with the masses of tree lights at one end of the room and the mantel lights at the other, the room glows warm and inviting.
I’m wearing the elegant, black silk dress Mom bought me last month and my coolest party heels, which Jeremy complained were two inches too high for any pregnant woman, but I’m walking just fine in them—as long as I remember to lean back a little bit for counterbalance.
The sweet and savory scents of the food have tormented me for the last hour, but I’ve been shooed away while Mom and Amanda add the finishing touches. Yep, Jeremy’s mother is working in my kitchen! I didn’t know she ever did more in a kitchen than give orders to the help.
Laura walks up beside me and wraps an arm around my waist. “You have a house brimming with love tonight.”
“I know. Everyone here is with someone they love.”
“Hmm. I guess that’s true, but what I meant was that everyone here loves you. Well, maybe not Chris, but that’s just because he doesn’t know you yet.”
“Richard loves me?”
“Definitely. I’ve heard him describe you as ‘perfectly marvelous’.”
Jeremy and Ethan come up behind us. “So this is where all the cool people are,” Ethan says.
“You all right?” Jeremy asks me.
“No, I’m starving. Go steal me something to eat. The moms won’t say no to you.”
As Jeremy walks toward the kitchen, Ethan says, “Look, your dad’s talking to Richard and Chris.”
“No, no, no,” I say. “I was hoping to delay that conversation at least until after we eat.”
Ethan pulls Laura and me in their direction. “Let’s go eavesdrop.”
One second I’m looking toward the kitchen, silently begging Jeremy to hurry, and the next second I’m pitching forward, drinks are flying, and I end up suspended in Gordon’s and Richard’s arms with a least a pint of liquor sloshing in my cleavage. For a second, the three of us are frozen, mouths and eyes perfect circles. Then there’s a flurry of sound and movement.
Richard and Gordon set me on my feet amid cries of “bloody hell” and “oh my God.” And then Jeremy’s at my side, alarmed but with a plate of crab puffs still clutched in his hand. I brush the hair out of my eyes and pop a puff into my mouth. Dead silence. Everyone stares at me. While I chew, I grab Laura’s cocktail napkin and nonchalantly sponge between my breasts. Smiling, I turn to Richard and Gordon. “Thanks for catching me.”
Behind me, Ethan totally cracks up. Then Jeremy and Laura start laughing too. Gordon beams. Richard gives me a thumbs-up, though Chris looks totally dumbfounded. And then the party goes back to normal. Well, except for me being five inches shorter because I kicked off the damn shoes.
My stumble didn’t prevent the conversation between Gordon and Richard and Chris, but it doesn’t matter. Gordon doesn’t even blink when Chris casually slips his arm around Richard’s waist, so obviously this is not the “coming out” fiasco we anticipated. Jeremy, Ethan, Laura, and I exchange glances and shrugs.
A few minutes later, the moms announce dinner is ready. Since the dining table is being used for the buffet, we all have to find places in the living room to eat. Although we divide into groups around the sofa area, the piano, and the bar stools at the pass-through, we’re close enough to speak privately to those closest to us or louder to be heard by the whole room. Richard and Chris group with Scott and Dylan at the bar stools, which alarms me because I’m afraid they’re feeling uncomfortable, but Scott shoos me off when I try to join them.
“Go away, little sister,” he says. “This is the exclusive gay corner.” They all laugh, and I do as I’m told.
Jeremy, Laura, Ethan, and my sister-in-law, Megan, are standing around the piano. Ryan calls me over to the sofa where he and Mom and Amanda are sitting. He pats the cushion next to him. “Sit, Cheesy. Or would you prefer to do a flying somersault onto the sofa?”
“Ha. Ha.”
“I’m glad I didn’t see your fall,” Mom says. “I would have had a stroke.”
“She recovered remarkably well,” Gordon says.
Ryan laughs. “She’s had a lot of practice. At her twelfth birthday party she—”
“Mom.”
“He’s just teasing you, sweetie.”
Ryan puts his arm around my shoulders. “I can’t believe you’re about to be someone’s mother.”
“Because?” He looks puzzled. “You don’t think I’m responsible enough, do you?”
“That’s not what I meant. I just have a hard time thinking of you as an adult—and I know you are, but you’ll always be my baby sister.” He squeezes my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “You’re braver than I am,” he whispers.
I’m pondering how not brave I feel when Uncle stands.
“I do believe I’ll help myself to seconds,” he says and heads for the buffet.
Jeremy crosses the room to the bar. “Can I get anyone in this group a refill?” Gordon holds out his glass. Jeremy fills his order and freshens Uncle’s too.
I take that as my cue. “Mom, Amanda, more wine?”
“Yes, please,” they say almost in unison.
I grab a bottle each of red and white from the buffet and make the rounds while Jeremy takes care of the liquor refills. As plates and glasses are emptied and refilled, the family groupings shuffle. After a while, I stand back taking in the sounds of conversation and laughter. It’s a perfect night. And tomorrow at Mom’s we’ll get to do it all over again.
♥ ♥ ♥
We’ve had a long but awesome Christmas Day. Scott and Dylan left an hour ago. Ryan and Megan have just left for their hotel and will fly home early in the morning. The food is put away and the kitchen is clean. And Jeremy and Ethan are signaling that they’d like to leave.
I stand, trying to remember where I put my purse. “I guess we’re going now, Mom. We’ll see you for lunch tomorrow.”
A look passes from Mom to Amanda to Gordon. Gordon clears his throat. “I’d like you to stay for a few minutes longer,” he says.
Jeremy shrugs at my questioning look. I sit back down just as Richard and Chris stand.
“We’ll see you all tomorrow,” Richard says. “Thank you for the hospitality, Marie. This has been a fabulous Christmas.” Chris agrees, and they leave. I get the sense their departure at this point was no coincidence.
Amanda pats Gordon’s hand and he gives her a slight smile. “You children may have noticed,” he says, “that I’m a little more relaxed—”
“A little more?” Laura says, then bites her lip.
“We noticed,” Jeremy says.
Giving no indication he’s offended, Gordon nods. “Well, there’s a reason for the change. Six months ago,”—he takes Amanda’s hand—“I had
a fright. I had worked so late one night that the multistorey was nearly deserted. As I opened my car door, two men ran out of the shadows and assaulted and robbed me.” Laura gasps and Jeremy leans forward. “Physically, I suffered two cracked ribs and various bumps and bruises, but the experience shook me psychologically. I can’t lie.”
“And yet you didn’t think Laura and I should even be notified?” Jeremy asks. “Did Richard know?”
Amanda responds with the sigh of a mother who’s lost patience with sibling rivalry. “Yes, of course, Richard knew. Your father was in hospital for a night.”
“Uncle?” Jeremy says, turning to him.
“Marie and I were in Madrid when it happened, but yes, we found out.”
Jeremy shakes his head in disbelief.
“There was nothing you or Laura could have done, son. There was nothing to be done except to heal. But, as I was saying, the sight of a knife at my gut—”
“Knife?” Laura cries. “My God, Dad.”
Now, Gordon sighs. “They didn’t stab me. May I finish?” Laura and Jeremy give him identical chastened nods. “As you do after such an experience, I reevaluated my life and came to the conclusion I should have long ago. Relationships … family … should always be top priority. I believe you both already know that, which your mother must have taught you because I surely didn’t, neither by word nor example. I’m sorry for …” He’s silent as Amanda pats his knee. After a moment, he clears his throat and sniffs. “I have a long way to go, but I think I’m a better husband now. And, I hope, a better father. I’m certainly trying.”
It’s Ethan who breaks the stunned silence that follows. “Well,” he says, “I proposed marriage to your daughter and you didn’t have me drawn and quartered, so I’d say you’re making progress.”
Gordon laughs the loudest of us all.
We leave soon after. I wait for Jeremy to talk about what his father told us, but he’s silent on the drive home and makes only small talk as we get ready for bed. He turns on the TV, which signals he doesn’t want sex, so I lie there wondering whether this is one of the times I should force him to open up. Two minutes later, he turns the TV off and says good night. I’m drifting toward sleep when he speaks.
“He could have died.”
Open & Honest (Sometimes) (A High Tea & Flip-Flops Novel Book 3) Page 17