My Red, White, & Blue Christmas

by Julie Christianson

  Five years later, I stand in my bedroom, and my stomach does backflips remembering. Not much has changed since those days of solitary confinement. Not my comforter or my Nick Cage pillow. Pictures from Homecoming and Prom are taped along my mirror. I’d gone to both dances with a group of friends. Molly, Claire, and Emma. Two corsages still sit in a jewelry dish. They’re both dried up and dusty. When I pick the carnation up to sniff it, the petals crumble. Oops.

  Sliding open the top drawer of my nightstand, I pull out a pristine copy of Twilight. The rest of my family hated all things Twilight, so I knew they’d never open that book. Tucked inside the pages is a picture of Beau Slater. A candid of him in his baseball uniform after our team won the league championship. Beau was the pitcher for the Abieville Lancers. Brady played first base. Beau’s grinning at someone off camera. Probably my stupid brother. Beau looks so happy in the picture. Too bad someone drew devil horns and buck teeth on his face. In Sharpie.

  KGS.

  Kasey Graham’s Sharpie.

  That’s right. A girl doesn’t get to be in charge of the school yearbook without gaining access to photographs that never see the light of day.

  “Kasey! Are you home?” Auntie Mae calls to me. She must’ve been the one banging around in the kitchen. Not Brady and Beau preparing to water-balloon me again. I slip the picture of Beau back into Twilight, then shove the book back into my nightstand. For now, my secret’s safe and sound. Between Bella, Edward and me.

  As I enter the kitchen, the scent of cinnamon almost bowls me over. Of course. Every Christmas my mom keeps sticks of it simmering on the stove. This year, Auntie Mae’s bent over the freezer, her rear end straining the seams of her shorts. There’s an American flag emblazoned across the seat, which must be some kind of crime against fashion, if not the nation. When she straightens and turns around, she drops an entire rack of ribs on the linoleum.

  “Ack! Kasey! You scared me!” Her cheeks go as red as the puff hair on her head. All the Bradford sisters and most of their kids have hair that’s some shade of red, but Auntie Mae’s wins the gold medal of poodle cuts.

  I stifle a laugh. “Sorry, Auntie Mae.”

  “I’ll forgive you.” With a huff, she drops to her knees and scoops the ribs back into her arms. “Just don’t tell anyone these were ever on the floor. Five second rule and all.” She grunts as she stands, and sets the ribs onto a giant baking sheet. Then she turns to me. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. We’ve sure been missing you around here.”

  My heart swells with her sweetness. “I miss everyone too, Auntie Mae. So much.”

  “Let me rinse off my hands so we can hug. I don’t want to get beef juice all over you.”

  “Yeah.” I grin at her. “I don’t want that either.”

  She runs her hands under the faucet then dries them on Mom’s Frosty the Snowman dishtowel. “Now get on over here, Kasey.” She opens her arms wide and pulls me into her not unsubstantial bosom. Auntie Mae smells more like nutmeg than beef juice, and I try to let myself relax. Maybe if I stay busy making potato salad and snicker doodles, I’ll be able to stop thinking about Beau.

  “Oh, dear!” She gasps, releasing me. Yikes. That doesn’t make a girl feel good.

  “Do I stink or something? Mom wouldn’t let me take a shower. She said we didn’t have time.”

  “No, you smell like M&Ms. It’s delightful. But there’s a fly in the onion dip. Grab a spoon to scoop it out, won’t you?”

  “Yuck. Shouldn’t we toss the dip?”

  “Now that would be a waste, Kasey. You’ve been gone a while, so let me remind you the Bradford sisters don’t waste dip.”

  I shake my head. “How could I forget.” After digging two flies from the dip, I cover the small bowl and the large one full of corn chips with plastic wrap. Then I get to work on the potatoes. Our sink is a big porcelain basin on a butcher block island in the center of the kitchen. This means from where I’m standing, I can see the entire room. I’m elbow deep in peel when my mother comes barreling around the corner. “Ah. There you are, Kasey.”

  “Yep. Here I am. Right where you told me to be. Peeling potatoes.”

  My mother turns to Auntie Mae. “How are the ribs coming along?” Auntie Mae flashes me a look and I nod at her. I got your back.

  “I just basted them up real good,” my aunt says. “They’re in the oven now. I was about to walk on over to The Shop to get the corn. Wanted the ears to be as fresh as possible. Suppose I’ll be gone about a half hour.”

  “Don’t worry,” I snort. “I’ll still be here peeling potatoes. I might be peeling for the rest of my life.” Mom and Auntie Mae exchange glances. Like an unspoken language between them. I always wished I had a sister who knew what I was trying to say without words.

  As soon as Auntie Mae’s out the back door, Mom joins me at the sink. She fills an enormous pot with water and sets it on the counter beside her. “Sorry for dropping that bomb earlier about Beau Slater being in town. I thought you knew.”

  My heart pounds, but I just keep peeling at a furious pace. If the blade slips, I’ll lose a finger. “I couldn’t care less, I was just surprised. I thought Beau was some globetrotting hero with a camera, off saving humanity or something.” I shrug. “Like Superman or Gandhi.”

  My mother sucks in a breath. “Superman’s not real, Kasey. And as for Gandhi...” She lowers her voice. “He’s passed.”

  “Yep. I was being sarcastic, Mom. You get jokes, right?”

  “I most certainly do.” She scoffs. “My daughter. The standup comedian.” That’s right. I’m still not a doctor, Mother. She starts picking up the peeled potatoes and cutting them into quarters. Once they’re cut, she drops them in the pot. “Anyway, you were partly right,” she says. “According to Betty Slater, Beau’s been taking pictures all around the world. She says he donates a lot of the proceeds to charities. One is for vaccinations, I think. And clean drinking water. That kind of thing. I suppose he is pretty heroic, now that you mention it.”

  “Did I mention it?” I sniff. “Hmm. Whatever. Good for Beau.”

  “Anyway, Betty’s just thrilled to have both her kids home for the 4th.”

  “Oh!” The peeler flies out of my hand and clatters into the sink. “Natalie’s here too?” Natalie Slater, Beau’s little sister, once threatened to bake a whole box of laxatives into a batch of homemade brownies if I so much as looked at her brother. Mom grabs the peeler and gives it back to me, along with a healthy dose of side-eye. “You all right, Kasey?”

  “I’m fantastic. So, you were saying, Nat’s in town, huh? What’s she been up to?”

  “Betty says she’ll be finishing up at Ithaca College this year.” Mom examines a potato with a smudge of dirt on it. She takes her time rinsing the potato before she resumes her slicing. “Apparently she’s planning to go to nursing school afterward. To work in pediatrics. In cancer wards, maybe?”

  “Wow. Another Slater hero.” I glance at my mother. “When we were kids, Beau and Nat Slater were pretty darn awful.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t think Beau was all that bad.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom.” I resume peeling to avoid her gaze. “He and Brady were terrible to me.”

  She shakes her head. “Maybe when you were kids. But your brother’s grown up quite a bit in the past few years. He’s become a pretty good man. Betty says Beau has really come into his own too. You’ll see.”

  “Gee. I can’t wait.” I frown.

  “Now that’s enough, Miss Sarcasm.” My mother hefts the pot up and carries it to the stove. “As I was saying, Betty’s absolutely thrilled to have the whole family under one roof again. I told her I sure do know the feeling. Of course Brady never did leave town.” She clucks. Great. Mrs. Chicken Claus is back. “As for Beau, he’s home less than you are.” There’s a whoosh from the stovetop as the gas burner ignites. “And by next week, he’ll be gone again. Poof.” I look over my shoulder, and my mother shakes her head. “Poor Betty.”

&nbs
p; “From the sounds of it, you and Mrs. Slater have been talking quite a bit lately. When did you two become BFFs?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She sighs. A long one. “Maybe after we both had one of our birdies leave the nest and hardly ever come back.”

  Huh. I guess my mother misses me even though I’m not a doctor. Or a standup comedian for that matter. “Mom.” I wait for her to meet my gaze. “I’m happy to be home now.”

  She smiles. “I’m happy about that too. And before I forget, Betty invited all of us over there to watch the fireworks on the 4th.” My stomach twists, but my mom can’t see that. “She and Neil are still in that big old lake house. I imagine the show’s quite a spectacle from their yard. Did you ever watch the fireworks over there, Kasey?”

  “Are you kidding?” I swallow hard. “Brady never let me be around him and Beau.” A flush comes into my cheeks. “Not that I ever wanted to be around him and Beau.” Stupid cheeks. They always give me away. Unless my throat gets there first. “Anyway, I wouldn’t watch the fireworks with Beau and his brownie-baking little sister if you paid me.”

  Tsk. “Well I already told Betty we’d go, Kasey. And the Grahams always follow through on their RSVPs. Also, the Slaters are coming here tomorrow night for hot cocoa and caroling with your cousins.”

  “What? No!” Now my insides officially explode. Why are the Grahams and the Slaters suddenly attached at the hips? I want my hips as far from Beau’s as they can get. I flash my mother my fiercest look. “No way, Mom. I won’t let Beau Slater ruin the 4th of July and Christmas for me.”

  My mother’s lip curls up on one side. And hold on. It sounds like she’s actually humming. What on earth is happening around here? She’s supposed to be on my side, isn’t she?

  ISN’T SHE?

  3

  Beau

  “T

  hanks for the help,” Brady says. “And the ride. Don’t quote me, but I really missed you, man.”

  I flash him a crooked smile. “Too late. Already sent out a press release.”

  “Oh, man. I’ll have to murder you now. Got no choice.”

  Brady and I are in my dad’s truck on the way back from the docks after cleaning out a half dozen kayaks. I lick my lips and taste the salt from my sweat after a hot day’s work. The lake was still crowded when we left, full of boats pulling inner tubes and water skiers. It felt like I’d jumped off that dock only yesterday. And forever ago. Give or take.

  “When we get back, you want to come in for a drink?” he asks. “My old man’s got coolers stocked for a week. Besides. I owe you one.”

  “Nah. I was happy to do it.” Turning onto the tree-lined road that winds around the back side of town, I check my watch. Four o’clock. “It’s a little early for me anyway.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Brady punches my arm. “You’re such a grownup now.”

  I crack another smile. “One of us has to be. I nominated you, but it didn’t go too well.”

  Brady and I met up this morning at his parents’ place so I could say hi to them. They were out front when I got there, Mr. Graham chopping wood and Mrs. Graham stacking. Brady started grumbling about the kayaks, so I offered to help him out. By way of answer, he just hopped in the truck. Typical Brady. “Speaking of growing up,” I say, “how does a kid like you manage to juggle work at the pet clinic and vet school at the same time?”

  He chuckles. “I rely on my charms, man. I can be charming when I want to be. You just forgot because you’ve been gone so long.”

  “Sure, sure. I remember. You’re charming. A real Prince.”

  He snorts. “According to my mom, you’re the real prince of the village. You should hear how she raves about you.” Brady switches to a pitchy warble that’s a darn good imitation of Mrs. Graham. “Beau is so amazing, Brady. His little photography hobby is so impressive.”

  “Little photography hobby?” I give Brady the side eye, but I get why he’d bust my chops. The guy doesn’t know what my career means to me. How proud I am of what we do. I don’t share those feelings with anybody. The one I want to share things with is out of reach.

  “And don’t forget all the charities Beau supports,” Brady screeches. He’s still using his mother’s voice. “My word, Brady! Think of the children!” He keeps going like that until we reach the Graham’s farmhouse. Luckily it’s not a long drive.

  When I pull up for the second time today, I hide the feelings I used to get back in high school. Half dread, half expectation. Then I remind myself Kasey doesn’t live here anymore. She doesn’t even live in the state. “At least come in for a minute,” Brady says. “My mom’s probably got some fresh baked cookies by now.”

  “All right.” I duck my head like I’m seventeen again. “I’ve got some time, I guess.”

  And Mrs. Graham’s cookies really are the best.

  We climb the steps up to their porch and kick our flip flops off next to the welcome mat. Kiss Me Under the Mistletoe. Huh. What’s up with that? And why is there a wreath on the door? We head inside, and I choke on the scent of an eggnog candle. There’s a massive tree by the fireplace. “Uh, Brady?” I survey the room. It looks like Santa Claus threw up everywhere. “Should I be worried?”

  “Crazy, right?” He flops on the couch and props his feet on the coffee table. “All I can say is I’m glad I moved out.” He smirks. “Just in the St. Nick of time.”

  “No, but seriously. We were together all day and you failed to mention you’re living in the North Pole. What gives?”

  He chuckles. “It’s my mom’s brilliant idea. Some of my cousins are in town for the 4th and since they missed a bunch of Christmases—and my mother’s a total nut job—she talked the whole family into decking the halls.”

  “Got it.” I rake a hand through my hair. It’s still damp from the lake. “No one says no to Elaine Graham.”

  “Yeah. You remember.” He cuts his eyes to a hairband on the coffee table and scrambles to sit up. “Oh, man. Kasey must be here.”

  My stomach clenches like a fist. A total gut punch. “Kasey’s in town?” Besides this whole Christmas in July thing, Brady must’ve forgotten to mention his sister.

  Before he can answer, Mrs. Graham careens out of the kitchen. “I thought I heard men talking in here.” She swings toward me like a wrecking ball, and the next thing I know, I’m being crushed by Brady’s mom. She’s changed out of her wood-stacking gear into full Mrs. Claus mode. Her hair is in a big red pile on top of her head. I almost can’t see past her while she’s hugging me. “Kasey!” she hollers. “Get on in here and say hi to Beau!”

  Kasey comes around the corner and Whoa. My lungs empty out in one quick whoosh. Her hair’s a little longer than I remember. Not that I thought about her a lot over the past five years. Unless every single day is a lot. Yeah. And that’s why I know her eyes are the same. So bright they could be the sun. Twin stars that never saw how I felt about her. I never let anyone see.

  While I’m still gasping for air, she waves at me. It’s a small one. So is her frown.

  “Hey there, Beau.”

  I open my mouth, but I can’t speak. The good news is, I don’t have to, because Brady’s off the couch and over to Kasey in a flash. He picks up his sister and spins her around like she’s light as a feather. They’re practically flying. When he sets her down, Kasey stumbles my way. She’s Bambi on ice. I catch her in my arms.

  “Oof,” I say as Kasey crashes into me. At least I’m making noise with my mouth again. It’s not a good noise, but it’s better than nothing. When I pull her in, I smell cherries and sunshine. Like we’re on a beach. In Santa’s village. “You all right?” I ask. My question comes out gruff like I’m choking on sand.

  “I’m fine.” She wrenches herself from me and rounds on Brady. “What the heck. Were you trying to make me fall?”

  Brady grins. “Heck no. Can’t a guy be excited to see his little sister?” She cocks her head. “Really, Kase.” His voice is thick. Emotional. Very un-Brady. “I missed y
ou. A lot.”

  Kasey’s eyes soften but she works her jaw like she definitely can’t trust us. Which makes sense. The last time we were together, Brady was attacking her with water balloons. She was shivering. Wet. Crying. My gut sinks at the memory.

  “Oh, my babies.” Mrs. Graham grabs Kasey with one arm, then yanks Brady in with the other. I stand there feeling like an idiot while the three of them are mashed together. “Having you both home makes me so happy,” she says. “I wish I could hug you like this for the whole week. I suppose I can. Oh, but Brady.” She pulls away. “You’ll need to run back to your place and change soon.”

  Brady looks down at his swim trunks and bare feet. “I think I’m good. Suit’s almost dry.”

  Mrs. Graham puts her hands on her hips. “Did you remember to bring your ugly sweater?”

  Now that gets me talking again. “What’s this about an ugly sweater, Brady?”

  Mrs. Graham answers for him. “Tonight’s our Ugly Sweater Dinner, Beau. It’s a competition. Ugliest sweater wins. Did you ever come to one when you and Brady were kids?”

  I dart a glance at Kasey. “Can’t say that I did.”

  “Well, that’s just one of the things we’ve got planned for Christmas this year.” She digs in her apron pocket and finds a wrinkled paper. “I sketched out a schedule for the whole week. It’s a little rough, still.” She shoves her reading glasses up her nose. “Let’s see. Ugly Sweater Dinner and tree trimming is tonight. Tomorrow is cocoa and caroling.” She glances up at me. “By the way, Beau. You, Natalie and your folks are coming over for that.”

  I gulp like the Polar Express just rolled into the living room to pick me up. “We are?”

  “Oh, we’re all going to have so much fun!” Mrs. Graham checks her schedule again. “The