by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Janelle Mowery, Lynette Sowell
He tugged at his tie. “Nothing yet. Or at least I hope not. I need to take care of something. I’ll meet you for some hot chocolate.”
“Okay.” She watched him leave the stage area.
“Mom?” This wasn’t happening. He was going to wake up in Barncastle Inn’s Earl’s Suite and find this was a bad dream.
“Shawnie!” His mother had a new haircut. The last time he’d seen her, Thanksgiving weekend, she’d worn old sweatpants and a tired T-shirt proclaiming that Holyoke’s Venus Gym for Women was “the best workout planet in the universe.” Now she wore dark denim jeans and a fuzzy pink sweater topped by a cream colored wool coat. Gold earrings, even. The fringe of a long multicolored scarf reached her knees.
She brushed the front of his dark olive dress uniform jacket. “Look at you. In a vintage uniform. Reminds me of when you first got your commission, how handsome you were in your class A’s.”
“You’re here. In Vermont.” If anyone else heard him, they’d probably think he was the most ungrateful son. If only they knew the whole story. He gave her a hug, sending up an unspoken prayer that somehow, she’d be a mother for once instead of his “best friend.”
“I know, I know—” She raised her hands as if in surrender. “I know we haven’t had a real Christmas since … since …”
“Ever?”
“Right. Ever.” His mother smiled at someone passing by, heading for the table with the hot chocolate. “But things have changed. Truly. I’ve had a wake-up call, and I decided to come up to Vermont for Christmas. I know the inn probably doesn’t have room, so I found a hotel right off Route 91. It’s a drive to Castlebury, but close enough.”
“But your job? What about work? Don’t they need extra help right now? The store’s probably packed right before Christmas.”
“I, um, I took a few days off.” His mom shrugged. “I told Quinlan’s I needed a few personal days, so they told me to go right ahead.”
Something didn’t feel right. She was too cheery, too bright. So polished, too. “Wow. You’re here.”
“When you said you were bringing your friend to Vermont to spend Christmas with his family, and that it was an old-fashioned Christmas, I admit I thought it was a crazy idea. I got thinking. We haven’t had much Christmas, you and me, so I want that to change. Starting now. I know you probably don’t believe me, and I’ve stunk at being a mom, but—” She looked at him, a pleading look on her face.
“C’mon. I want you to meet the Goudreaus.” Sean slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“I have to say, when you told me you were taking in a seventy-five-year-old man as a boarder, I thought you were nutso,” she said as they approached Armand who was wolfing down a doughnut and talking to his son.
“Armand, Mr. Goudreau, I’d like you to meet my mother.”
She stepped forward. “Heather McSweeney. So you’re my son’s new roommate.” She looked at Marcella’s father and beamed.
“No, I’m Frank Goudreau. My father actually is the one who rents a room from your son.” Marcella’s dad looked like his collar was an inch too tight.
His mom batted her eyelashes at him. Honestly—
Armand gave a roar that probably was meant to be a laugh. “Dear, I’m the sad sack that your son’s taken in. Armand Goudreau.” He extended his free hand in her direction, which she shook vigorously.
“Dad, I’ll get you a chair. You shouldn’t be up on that ankle.” Frank Goudreau made a beeline past them and toward the chairs.
“I hope you don’t mind. I’m going to be here for Christmas. If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know.” She smiled at Armand. “My son and I haven’t had a real Christmas in simply ages, not counting the three Christmases he was serving in Iraq and Kuwait.”
“Well, his family is welcome here, Mrs. Goudreau.” Armand ate his final bite of doughnut, then continued speaking around it. “Your son has been a godsend to me when I needed a hand.”
“You must let me know how many people are in the group—genders, ages. I would love to pick up a few gifts for everyone,” she said.
Sean had a whole pile of questions for his mother, not least of which was, where did she get money for gifts? He no longer gave her cash, but if she needed food or help with utilities, he would take care of that. Sometimes.
“Sean, you, Amity, and Marcella did a fabulous job tonight,” a voice spoke at Sean’s elbow. He looked to see Jayne Gilbert. “Is this your older sister?”
“No, this is—”
“I’m his mother, Heather McSweeney. I’m in town for Christmas.”
“Mom, this is Jayne Gilbert. Jayne and her husband, Luke, run Barncastle Inn,” explained Sean.
“What a lovely place. I imagine it’s even more beautiful in the daylight.” Oozed charm, something that came naturally for her.
“Thank you. We truly count ourselves blessed to be given the responsibility of running the Barncastle. You said you’re in town for Christmas. Where are you staying?” Jayne asked.
Oh no, no, no …
“I’m not exactly in town. I’m at the Holiday Inn just off Route 91 in Brattleboro,” his mom replied. “Although this place looks a lot more like a Holiday Inn than where I’m staying.” Her laugh rang out in the barn.
“I didn’t know she was coming,” said Sean. He didn’t want Jayne to think he was trying to smuggle his mother in for Christmas.
“Well, that simply won’t do. You can’t stay all the way in Brattleboro.” Jayne shook her head. “We’ll find a place for you here. I hope you’re ready for an old-fashioned World War II–era Christmas, though, just like the Goudreaus ordered.”
“Sounds lovely.”
Lovely? Mom didn’t use words like lovely.
“I’ll see about getting the Tower Room ready. If you’d rather not drive all the way back to Brattleboro tonight, you can stay here. We have some extra toiletries on hand and probably a change of clothing,” Jayne offered.
“I would like that, very much.” His mom’s gaze flicked past Jayne. “Oh, now who’s this?”
“Did you get some hot chocolate yet, Sean?” asked Marcella. “Hi, Jayne.”
“Wonderful job tonight. All I hear are raves from the crowd. I’ll tell you about it later.” Jayne smiled. “We’ll have standing room only tomorrow evening, once word gets around. Mrs. McSweeney, I’ll get you a key for your room within a few minutes.”
“Dear, it’s Ms. McSweeney, but you can call me Heather.”
Jayne nodded. “Sure enough, then. I’ll remember that.” She scurried away, leaving the two women eyeballing each other.
“Oh. Mom. Uh, this is Marcella Goudreau. Armand’s granddaughter,” Sean explained.
“You two were a-maz-ing,” his mother said, stressing the syllables in the last word. Sean tried to lean closer. She hadn’t been drinking, had she? No telltale sign of alcohol on her breath, at least from where he stood. “Isn’t it great, Shawnie, that Jayne has an extra room for me? We’ll have Christmas as a family.”
“Christmas as a family,” was all he could parrot back.
Chapter 6
Okay, spill,” said Amity from where she sat in front of the fireplace in the Lady’s Bower.
“Spill what?” Marcella joined her sister on the carpet where she sat, cross-legged. She reached toward the flames. “I wish I had a fireplace in my condo.”
“You and Sean. We didn’t need a heater backstage, because you two kept things warm enough, just looking at each other.”
Marcella wasn’t sure where to begin. And Sean’s mom showing up tonight? Now that was bizarre. Jayne welcomed her right into the inn, and Heather McSweeney was now comfortably tucked into the west Tower Room. Sean acted like he wanted to explain, but for the rest of the evening his mother had hovered around like one of those birds around a water buffalo.
“I like him,” was all she could say. “I like him a lot. I never imagined that a few days of music rehearsals, then Pepé spraining his ankle, and the
n Sean and I going sledding today …” She thought of the kiss they’d shared on the hill.
“Well, I’m glad. Because he seems to like you a lot, too. Just be careful, though,” Amity said.
“You sound like Memé earlier this afternoon.” Marcella smiled at her sister as light from the flames reflected off her face. “She doesn’t trust him. I can see why, with what’s happened with Pepé.”
“I think things are turning around, though, for them. Did you see them tonight, Memé walking with Pepé back to the house?”
“No. I didn’t see that. Heather was busy telling me all about how Sean was when he was a little boy.” Marcella stared into the glowing fire. “It sounds like they had a tough time, her being a single mom and raising him, with his father having custody of Sean’s older brother near Boston. I think it’s nice that she’s here. Even though it was odd how Sean acted when she showed up.”
“Why odd?”
“Sean acted as if, well, as if he didn’t want her here. And she seems very sweet. I think the next few days are going to be very interesting. Maybe this will be good for them, like it has for Memé and Pepé, and us.”
“You could be right. I have to say, Cellie, it was a good idea, coming here for Christmas.” Amity punctuated her sentence with a contented sigh. “The kids don’t seem to mind not having 200 TV channels, no video games. They’ve loved making old-fashioned homemade crafts. You should see the coffee mug that Jade painted for Pete, and the change dish Jeremy made for him. Tonight, I read to them until they fell asleep.”
Marcella’s heart swelled with longing for her own family. “I hope to have a family like that one day.”
“It’s worth it, meeting the right man.” Amity squeezed Marcella’s shoulder. “I know you’ll meet him, if you haven’t already. God has a way of working things out when we least expect it.”
A heat wave shot through Marcella’s stomach. Sean. But he was right, they needed to take their time. So far she’d enjoyed getting to know him. Very much. Lord, help us find our way.
Sean stood in the doorway of the Tower Room, where Jayne had found a space for his mother to stay. “Mom, tell me what’s going on. I mean, really going on.”
His mother, wearing sweatpants and matching top that Jayne had lent her, looked plenty cozy where she sat on the curved window seat. At any other time, Sean would have loved to examine the details of the room, from the carved wood trim framing the windows, and the inset stained glass capping the windows.
“I know I’ve stunk as a mother. It was hard, trying to be Mrs. Crocker, or Betty Crocker. Never could get that right. I did the best I could. But I felt like you were trying to trade me in for this rich family.” She raised her hand and waved it, as if trying to brush away the Goudreaus’ presence at the inn.
“Mom, they’re not rich.”
“Oh-ho, so you say. I looked up the Barncastle site online and I know how much it costs to rent this place for the week. They’re rich.”
“Marcella and her sister are doing this for their grandparents. Armand and his wife are going through a rough patch, and the girls figured being here would help the whole family.” Sean rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you.”
“Marcella, now, is she the one you were practically eating up with your eyes earlier tonight?” His mother blinked like a cat who’d found a bowl of cream.
Her words made Sean’s stomach turn. “Mom, don’t make my relationship with Marcella sound that way. We’ve gotten to know each other since we’ve been here, and she’s special. Really special. We’re taking things slow.” In his heart, though, he knew when Christmas came and went, he wanted to see her as much as possible, and not just as Armand’s granddaughter.
“Easy, Romeo. I’m just teasing.” She uncrossed her legs and stood, then went over to her purse on the bed and pulled out a small notepad. Something silver flashed inside her purse, but she snapped the bag shut before Sean got a good look at it. She’d better not have brought booze with her.
“Well, don’t. Or no teasing like that, anyway.”
“How many people do I need to buy presents for?”
“You don’t have to buy anyone gifts.”
“Don’t argue with me. Who in the whole big, happy family is here this week? I don’t want to come for Christmas without giving them anything.”
Unbelievable. Not six weeks ago, his mother couldn’t pay her light bill and he’d let her sit in the dark until her payday came around. Tough love. He never imagined he’d be put in a position like that. Or this. Lord, how can I help her without enabling her? He shouldn’t have mentioned he was going to Castlebury, Vermont, for Christmas. He could only imagine how she tracked him down.
He sighed before continuing. “There’s Armand and Ruby, Marcella’s grandparents. Her mother and father—you met Frank earlier, and her mother, Beth. And Marcella’s sister, Amity, and brother-in-law Peter, and their two kids, Jade and Jeremy. That’s it. Counting you and me, that makes eleven of us.”
He’d already brought his gifts. A coffee basket for Marcella’s parents, and a gift for Armand and Ruby. Plus, a family movie night basket for Amity and Peter, with a Christmas tea basket, all made by one of the nurses who worked on his floor. He didn’t know what to get for Marcella yet, though. Bath products were a little too personal a gift, even now.
“I’ll get everyone gift cards, that way they can get whatever they want.” Mom wrote on her note pad. “And children, what fun. I love seeing children’s faces when they open gifts.”
He bit back the words he wanted to say. Funny, I never remember you watching me open gifts, even when you had the money to buy them yourself. He never realized how much his attitude toward his mother smelled worse than a garbage can in July.
“I know they’ll appreciate whatever you do, Mom.”
“So what’s on the schedule for tomorrow?”
“Marcella, her sister, and I will be rehearsing in the morning after breakfast. I’m not sure what the rest of the family is doing. I think the Gilberts have some baking planned. Then in the afternoon, Mrs. Barncastle—that’s Jayne’s mom, visiting from Florida—will be teaching knitting to anyone who wants to learn. Then, there’s going to be a hayride for the kids.”
She frowned. “Well, keep me out of the kitchen unless they want the whole place to go up in flames. Now, that knitting stuff. I might try it.”
“Knitting?” He still didn’t buy his mom’s reasoning for being here at the Barncastle, even with him spending Christmas here.
“Knitting.” She looked up from her notepad again, and yawned. “Oh, I’m beat. All the chilly air tonight, after the drive up here, and I’m ready to crash.”
“I should probably turn in, too.” The events of the day tumbled through his mind, and he wanted to be alone. “G’night, Mom.”
“‘Night, Shawnie.” She smiled, and waved.
He closed her door, thankful the hallway remained empty. Once inside the cozy Earl’s Suite, he closed the door behind him. Jayne told him when they checked in the other day that she’d put him in the smallest room, but he didn’t mind. After all, he was a tagalong. The more he thought about it, he should probably contribute something special to their Christmas celebration. He didn’t know why he didn’t think about it before now.
Plus, the matter of a gift for Marcella. Until a few days ago, she’d been a stranger to him. Now, she’d found a place in his heart. If he took Mom shopping tomorrow, maybe he’d find something in the village shops for Marcella.
Sean looked out the small square window of the suite. The dark form of the barn loomed across the parking lot.
Before he turned in, he took a few moments to pray. “Lord, I thought I’d be able to keep to myself this Christmas, even being with the Goudreau family. And here I am, right in the middle of everything. Then tonight, Mom coming. Please don’t let her ruin anything.”
Chapter 7
December twenty-second greeted them with a sparkling sunri
se that lit up Sean’s bedroom. After breakfast, Sean asked Marcella if she wanted to go for a walk. He knew they’d spend a couple of hours rehearsing and going over notes from last night. There was no place to jog, but the trails on the Barncastles’ grounds were an inviting alternative.
“So, before you tell me that I’m trying to overplan everything, hear me out,” said Marcella as she ambled beside him.
“Okay.” He reached for her hand. “Go ahead.”
“I play a game with my students every year, especially the choir kids.” Her breath made white puffs in the air. “It helps break the ice. I call it Three Questions.”
“Three Questions?”
Marcella nodded. “You get to ask me any three questions and I can ask you any three questions. They can be silly, or serious. But no yes or no questions. That’s the only rule.”
“You are incredibly cute.” Sean shook his head. “Okay. I’ll play. But I get to go first.”
“Ha, so you like being in charge?”
“Hey, I get to ask a question first.” They ambled along under the pine trees. Sean found himself breaking a sweat, walking the slight incline.
“Okay. Ask. I’m ready.”
“Why did you become a music teacher?”
“Because I like music and teaching.” Marcella kept walking and didn’t continue speaking. “And?”
“I answered your question.” She grinned at him.
“I’d like to know more than the obvious.”
“I love music, yes. To me, the world is full of music. Nature is. Even the Psalms talk about the trees of the field clapping their hands. Music touches our hearts. We communicate through music, to each other, we share with music. We can also worship with music. I always feel closer to God with music. I’m hoping that will happen for my students, too.” She stopped for a moment. “There, is that better?”
“Yes. Much better. So, you get to ask me a question now?”
Marcella’s eyes glistened. “Yup. So how come you became a physician assistant?”