A Magical Christmas

by Heather Graham

  “Julie?” Jon said softly.

  “I—I’ll be along,” Julie murmured.

  Jon still watched her. He nodded after a moment. He tousled Jordan’s hair, his fingers lingering for a minute, then he went into the next room.

  “Mom?” Jordan said. “I’m really okay. You don’t have to watch me sleep.”

  She laughed softly and came to the daybed. “Lift your head up a minute,” she told him. She sat, and he laid his head in her lap. “Bear with me for a while, huh? I can’t explain the feeling I had tonight. I do have to watch you sleep for a while tonight. All right?”

  It was all right with Jordan. He just hoped it was all right with his father.

  His mom just kept smoothing back his hair in a gentle, very maternal gesture. Guilt preyed upon him. Weird. It was just so weird. How had she known something dangerous had been going on?

  It was as if his mom had suddenly gone psychic or something. Whoa, no. He hoped not. He’d really have to be careful in the future.

  But he was pretty sure that his mom hadn’t really changed any.

  It was the house, he thought. This house. The whole place. It was different. Maybe special.

  And very, very strange.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Julie awoke to the sound of laughter again.

  When she looked out the window, it was like a replay of the day before.

  The snowman was still standing in good shape. The kids were all bundled up, pelting each other with snowballs. They had Jon on the ground, and they were burying him.

  She was tempted to come to his rescue.

  But then she stepped back from the window. She wondered if he had thought that she was still trying to keep a wall between them last night. She had fallen asleep herself with Jordan on her lap, and when she had awakened and come into the bedroom sometime in the early morning, he had been sleeping himself. She wished she could have explained it to Jon; she had never experienced anything like that kind of fear before. Even this morning, watching Jordan below, she was worried. He still looked a little pale.

  Julie dressed and came downstairs just as her children were coming in for breakfast. Once again, a full buffet was laid out in the dining room, and once again, there was no sign of their elusive hostess.

  And now there was no sign of Jon. She poured herself coffee and arched a brow at Christie, who was piling an amazing breakfast onto a plate for herself. If nothing else, this place had restored her daughter’s healthy appetite.

  “Where’s your father?”

  “He didn’t come in. I think he went back to the pond.” She rolled her eyes. “He said you were probably going to want to go riding again. Oh, and Jesse said that we all needed to be sure to get up to the attic for a few minutes and find some clothing for the party tonight.”

  So Jon wasn’t coming back to the house now. Had he gone to the pond? She could just go there herself and see.…

  If he was alone?

  No. She knew that he was alone. And it seemed that he wanted to be alone.

  “I guess I do want to go riding,” she said.

  “Ashley, you want to ride the horses again, right?”

  “Yes, yes!”

  “Jordan, Christie, you joining me?”

  “I may go back to sleep for a while, Mom,” Jordan said. Julie studied her son, then nodded.

  “You’re sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m sure I’m all right,” Jordan said. “But it’s Christmas Eve. I want to be awake tonight.”

  “Christie?”

  “Oh, I’m going riding,” she said. “But I’m going to go ahead, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh?”

  “You can go with the older Wainscott, Mom. I’m going to go and meet the younger one for a while.”

  Jesse had already shown them the trails yesterday. But he’d been there at the stables again today when they came down, and though Christie mounted and took off quickly, Julie took her time, helping to saddle and bridle Midget and her own mount. When they were ready, Jesse offered to come with them again, and Julie found herself eager to accept. Ashley trailed behind her and Jesse a little, carrying on a full and private conversation with Midget.

  “Your husband is getting good on the ice.”

  “Is he? I’m afraid there’s no ice near us at home.

  He likes to rollerblade at home, though. Or he used to. When he had more time. He used to like to go out with Christie. He wanted me to try all the time.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “I’m scared,” she admitted with a laugh.

  “Well, he’s getting awfully good. I’d trust him on the ice, if I were you.”

  “Maybe,” she murmured.

  “Your daughter was in a hurry,” Jesse commented.

  “She was off to see your son,” Julie told him.

  “Ah,” Jesse murmured. “Well, I wouldn’t worry about her. She’s in good hands.”

  “Does Aaron live at home? Is he in school, or is he working?”

  Jesse arched a brow at her. “Working, I would say. He’s with the cavalry.”

  “Oh! The army? I didn’t realize they still had a cavalry division.” Julie surmised from Jesse’s tone that Jesse wasn’t happy about it. “I guess that’s not what you wanted him to do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just curious.”

  “You weren’t prying. It’s fine. No, I didn’t want him to join up as he did, and we had some real words over it.”

  “So the situation is still tense,” Julie murmured.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “It’s all right. He always comes home for Christmas. My boy always comes home for Christmas.” He shrugged, then looked at her. “I’ve got to tell you, though, I wish that I could take back the words I said to him. I let the world, and my own sense of rightness within it, get in the way when I was talking to my son. I didn’t wait to hear what he was thinking, how he felt. It’s easy to do. Events kind of get like a carriage going downhill, brakes broken. You get all caught up in the ride, and forget why you’re on the carriage to begin with.” Jesse suddenly looked back at Ashley. “And you can’t forget the little ones,” he said softly. He winked at Julie.

  “They still believe in magic.”

  Julie glanced back at Ashley. Ashley was so happy. She was on her horse, content with the world. Her eyes were aglow and her cheeks were flushed.

  “Hi, Mommy.”

  “Hi, Ashley.”

  “How’s your son this morning?” Jesse asked suddenly, his eyes seeming somewhat piercing as he watched her.

  “Doing well. But he was sick in the night.”

  “He’ll be all right.” Jesse looked at her. “I think you and your husband probably listen to your children. Listen good. You’re still going to disagree sometimes. None of us has the power to control the world, just our little part in it. But no matter what, we’ve got to respect each other’s opinions. Even when we think we’re the parents so we must know what’s right.”

  He was offering her a crooked smile that madeJulie’s heart feel oddly as if it were cracking a bit. Jesse Wainscott seemed such a damned fine man. He so obviously adored his wife, and his son as well. He still seemed to be hurting from the argument.

  “Surely, Jesse, you and your son can set things straight.”

  “My boy always comes home for Christmas,” Jesse said again, as if that explained everything. He turned back to Ashley then. “Little Miss Radcliff! There’s a fine clearing right ahead. I’ll take you for a slow lope across it. If it’s all right with your mother.”

  “Mommy?”

  “As long as you listen to Mr. Wainscott,” Julie said.

  The two went dashing on ahead of her. Julie paused for a minute, listening as Jesse Wainscott gently instructed her daughter. He enjoyed her daughter, she thought. He enjoyed all her children. He took the time to listen to them. She paused just a minute, then urged her horse after them.

  Christie was elated, riding out alone. And sh
e was very proud of herself, because she didn’t have the slightest problem finding the trail that led to the cemetery.

  And Aaron was there, as he had said he would be.

  “Christie! You came,” he called to her, walking through the field of broken tombstones to reach her.

  He held Shenandoah’s reins as Christie leapt down from the horse.

  “Well, you did invite me,” she told him. She wondered why she had been so anxious to come. He was really attractive. And charming. She loved his smile, and the sound of his voice. She was in love with Jamie, she reminded herself. Maybe she had come just to make sure of that.

  “I’m awfully glad of the company.”

  “Well, if you want company, you should come to the house. My family can be awful, but they’re definitely all company. More company than you might want. My God, what a night!”

  “Why? What happened,” he asked, leading her horse as they walked idly through the graveyard.

  Christie sighed. “Maybe it was good. But it was very strange. My airhead brother overdosed on some pills he was taking—”

  “Pills?”

  “Drugs. Downers.”

  “Oh,” Aaron murmured.

  “Your mother was terrific.”

  He smiled wryly, with a strange look of nostalgia in his eyes. “I imagine she was,” he said softly.

  “She made him throw up violently.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Well, it was, of course, because he was all right. But then do you know what happened?”

  “What?”

  “My mother suddenly turned into a witch—”

  “She was angry, I imagine.”

  “No, no, I don’t mean like that. My parents never knew what happened; they had been out. Your mom had everything under control by the time they raced back in, but the strange thing was that my mom came rushing into the bedroom in an absolute panic. As if she had known how much danger Jordan might have been in. Have you ever heard of anything like that? A psychic ability to feel someone else’s danger?”

  He smiled oddly. They paused, and she leaned against a tree, studying him. “I believe that strange things can happen, and that there are forces in the world we don’t really understand.”

  “Well, this was strange. And Jordan said it got even stranger. I mean, my folks aren’t stupid, so they probably have the sense to realize some of his friends are into dangerous substances, and so it’s likely he might be, too. But Jordan told me this morning that neither of them lit into him; they were both rational, telling him that if he needed to talk or needed help, to let them know.” She shook her head, mystified. “Damn! I wish they’d talk like that to me.”

  “Maybe they will.”

  Christie shook her head. “If you’ve never lived in a place like Miami, you can’t really understand. My folks are like the old guard. Natives—at their ages, that’s kind of rare. And the city is a big mix of everything, and it’s true that certain areas of the city can be dangerous, and there are a lot of crack houses and the like… and they just can’t see past the street where Jamie lives.”

  “You’ve got to make them see what you see.”

  “I think that maybe I’ve got to give them a shock. Like just walking out when I turn eighteen.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do. I’m telling you, you can’t imagine how awful the last year has been. They don’t even talk to one another; I can’t imagine how they’re going to talk to me.”

  “Do you love them?”

  “Well, of course. We’re just so damned messed up.”

  He looked off in the distance, toward the house. Then he looked back to her, reaching out a hand. “It could be worse. Come here.”

  He pulled her along to the center of the graveyard, pointing in a direction that meant nothing to her. “That way,” he told her, “is Washington, D.C.” He spun her around. “That way is Dixie.”

  She arched a brow. “We are being traditional, right?”

  “I’m showing you family problems. You know, of course, that Wainscotts have lived on this property a very long time.”

  “I imagine that’s why you all offer this quaintly traditional Christmas,” she replied wryly.

  He ignored her teasing tone. “Well, once, a long, long time ago, the nation was in turmoil. I grant you, it’s in turmoil often enough, but this was real bad turmoil. Like nothing that’s happened before or since.”

  “The Civil War?” she said, playing along with his story.

  “Well, to folks in my uniform, it was the War of the Southern Rebellion. But the son of the house got into this terrible fight with his father. They didn’t see eye to eye. And so the son rode away, angry. He took the time to kiss his mother quickly, and ruffle his kid sister’s hair, but he never even said goodbye to his father. He rode away. And he killed lots of Rebs in gray, but not once in all the long days of war did he ever go into battle without a sick feeling of horror that he might kill his own father.”

  “Oh, God! He didn’t, did he?” Christie cried.

  “No,” Aaron said. “But it was almost as bad. Oak River Plantation was taken over by Union forces. And some Southern cavalrymen had been taken—they were to be hanged. His father was among them. He’d actually escaped the lottery for the hanging, but there’d been a boy in his company who would have died if he hadn’t stepped in. Anyway, the son rode up just in time for all hell to break loose.”

  “Oh, how awful. What happened? Did they get to see one another again?”

  Aaron nodded gravely. “Just for a few seconds. People were converging with mixed loyalties; someone thought it was an attack; people started firing. There was an awful lot of bloodshed and many people died. And to make a long story short, the father and son never made up what had happened between them.”

  “That’s a terrible story! So sad.”

  “I’m telling you, you can’t imagine. The whole family had been up in arms against one another. Arguments over the big things—like the war itself. Then more arguments over the house, what people were doing. In the end, when they all tried to set it straight, they died trying to reach one another.”

  “Aaron, there is no war today.”

  “Doesn’t matter. The best of lives can be a battleground at times.”

  “My parents’ marriage is a battleground,” Christie murmured.

  “Well, the father and mother here died in one another’s arms, hit with some of the same bullets.”

  “That’s horrible; it’s awfully sad. Don’t tell me such terrible things—how can they help me?” Christie demanded.

  Aaron grinned broadly, planting his hands on his hips. “Well, you don’t part from people in anger, Christie. That’s the point here. Think about it. Would you really want to walk away from your folks and possibly never get to see them again? You just don’t know what can happen. There are no certainties in life.”

  “What if you can’t get a point across?”

  “Christie, I don’t think you’ve really tried.”

  “I thought I had,” she said.

  “Maybe you should try again, a little harder.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. But you’re really exaggerating.”

  He smiled, shaking his head. He sat upon an above-ground tomb and patted the cold stone beside him. “I’m not exaggerating, believe me. But it’s Christmas Eve. Sit down. Tell me what you want for Christmas.”

  She sat beside him. “I need a new compact disc player, a curling iron, and—” she broke off.

  “And?”

  “I want my folks to miraculously get along, I want my brother to quit being such a dope—and I want them to like Jamie.”

  “It can happen.”

  She glanced doubtfully at him.

  “It’s Christmas. I mean, it’s the season for belief in the unseen, for blind faith, right?”

  Christie nodded slowly. She smiled. “You still believe in miracles?” she asked.

  His smile was very deep and charm
ing. “I’m here every Christmas!” he assured her enigmatically.

  The air was cool, but the sun was out. Christie lay back on the stone tomb, and they kept talking. It was nice to talk, nice to have a friend. Nice to tell him about Jamie. And nice to know, even in the company of this dazzling young man, that what she felt for Jamie was real. With Aaron, she could even spend the day believing that it could work out. As he said, it was Christmas. She’d believed in Christmas all her life. In blind faith.

  “Keep telling me what you want for Christmas,” he told her.

  It was a great game. She told him all the petty little things she wanted, and went on to the bigger things. “World peace,” she told him. “No more starving children anywhere. No more diseases. What do you think? Will I get my Christmas wishes?”

  “We sometimes get more than we asked for,” he told her.

  She laughed. The afternoon passed pleasantly.

  * * *

  The house was completely decked in holly when Julie and Ashley returned to it after the ride. Clarissa Wainscott had been busy, Julie decided, but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen now.

  “We have to get costumes,” Ashley reminded her. “In the attic.”

  “Yes, but Mrs. Wainscott isn’t here right now.”

  “She told us just to go up. Come on, Mommy, please.”

  “Okay, let’s check on Jordan first, though.”

  Jordan had been dozing. He woke up when his mother and sister came in. “Hey! How were the horses, Ash?”

  “I love horses, Jordan.”

  “So do I, squirt.”

  “Jordan, did you help Mrs. Wainscott decorate with all that holly?”

  “I’m afraid not. I fell asleep.”

  “You feel better?”

  He nodded. To Julie’s surprise, he hugged her. “Yeah, I feel real good.”

  “I’m glad, honey. Jordan, I’m not going to push you right now, but you’ve got to promise that if you’re having problems with anything, you’ll let your dad and me help you.”

  “Together?” Jordan asked softly.

  “Jordan, no matter what, we both love you more than anything.”

  “Sure,” he said quietly.

  “By the way, have you seen your dad?”

  “Not since this morning.”