“I suppose it does. The best-looking Pilgrims I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, puh-lease.” Joni groaned. Everyone ignored her.
Mom took their coats and hung them in the closet. “Stacey, maybe Joni and Ewan would like to see the rest of the house,” she suggested.
“Sure,” I said. “Come on, guys, I’ll show you around.” I was surprised when Ewan took my hand. Happily surprised. I led the kids upstairs. Joni hung back but followed. “This is where I sleep,” I said when we came to my room.
“This is nice,” Joni said, walking right in and looking around.
“Thanks.” I suddenly remembered the sharp, interested Joni I’d met the first day I sat for the kids. The high-spirited girl who noticed everything. She stopped at my desk and gazed down at a necklace I’d bought from a street vendor the last time I was in New York City. It was a carved wooden elephant strung on a satin cord. “Would you like to try it on?” I offered.
Her eyes lit up. “Could I?” I helped her put it on and steered her toward my dresser mirror. She fingered the wooden elephant. “It’s cool.”
“Keep it,” I said. Okay, maybe I was too eager to win her over. But this seemed to be working, and the vendor stood on the same corner every day. I could replace the necklace.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I shouldn’t take your necklace.”
“No, really. It looks great on you,” I insisted. I looked at Ewan and wondered what I could give him. “Hey, Ewan, I have something for you too.” I took my Kid-Kit from the closet and found a brand-new coloring book and pack of crayons. “Here, take these,” I offered.
“Thank you,” he said happily.
The kids were actually smiling at me. What a relief. “I’ll show you the rest of the house,” I said.
After the tour we joined Mom and John in the living room. I noticed that Mom had set out a big dish of cold cooked shrimp, which John had brought, along with lots of cheese, fruit, and crackers.
“Help yourselves to appetizers,” Mom offered. “Would you kids like some soda or juice?”
Ewan asked for juice.
“I’ll just have the food my father brought,” Joni said, loading a plate with cheese and crackers. She sat next to John on the couch and ate.
“Nice necklace,” John commented.
“Stacey gave it to me,” she said, not looking at him. Mom and John exchanged a meaningful glance. John shot me a thumbs-up when Joni wasn’t looking.
After that, I went outside with the kids to play catch. Mallory and her brothers and sisters came by, which was great, because we were able to have a big game of touch football in the yard. Before we knew it, Mom was calling us in to eat. Joni and Ewan were panting and smiling (and slightly dirty) when they went inside.
We washed our hands and sat down. The mouthwatering aroma of turkey wafted into the dining room from the kitchen. Mom had filled her best vase with gorgeous maroon and yellow chrysanthemums and placed it in the middle of the table. The golden afternoon sunlight streamed through the window and made her good dinnerware and glasses gleam. Bowls of vegetables sat on the table, smelling delicious. She’d put a CD in the stereo, a lively piece of classical music, Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. To me, it was a perfect Thanksgiving setting.
“Do we have to listen to this?” Joni asked.
“Yes,” John said.
“No,” Mom replied at the same time. “What would you like to hear?”
“Hanson?” she suggested.
Mom looked at me. “I don’t have anything by them,” I said. “But I have plenty of other CDs.”
“Wait a minute!” John broke in. “We’re listening to this. I happen to like it very much.”
“You’re just saying that because she put it on,” Joni argued. “You hate this kind of music.”
“No, I don’t.”
“John, it’s really no problem to change it,” Mom said. “Stacey and I have lots of recordings. Stacey, go get some CDs to —”
“No,” John cut her off firmly. “This music is fine.” He rose from his chair. “Let me go get that turkey for you.”
He and Mom hurried into the kitchen. I heard them exchange quick, anxious words, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Joni sat at the table looking sullen. “I’d like to hear the Teletubbies,” Ewan offered. “You don’t have anything by them, do you?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Maybe we could borrow something from the Pikes after dinner.”
Mom and John returned with the carved turkey. “Do you like the light meat or the dark, Joni?” Mom asked.
“I’m not eating that,” she said.
“And why not?” John demanded.
“I’m a vegetarian.”
“Since when? I noticed you scarfing down all the bacon this morning at breakfast.”
She glared at him through angry slitted eyes. “That turkey is disgusting. I’m not eating it.”
“That’s it, Joni!” John barked. His voice rose to a fierce shout that made goose bumps form on my arms. “You’re ruining Thanksgiving for everyone and I won’t allow it.”
Joni jumped to her feet. Tears sprang to her eyes and she bolted from the room.
I stood outside my bedroom door and knocked. I’d followed Joni up the stairs and reached the top in time to see her disappear into my room, slamming the door behind her.
“Go away!” Joni sobbed from the other side.
“It’s me. Stacey.” I hoped that would make a difference. Slowly the door opened. Joni’s face was puffy and red from crying.
I stepped into my room and shut the door again. “I’ll give you back your necklace,” Joni said, pulling it over her head.
“I don’t want it back,” I told her. “I gave it to you because I like you. I think you’re a good kid.”
“You do not.”
I sat on my bed. “I met you before our parents got together, remember? I know how you really are. Joni, my parents are divorced too. I understand what you’re going through.”
She buried her face in her hands and began crying even harder. Her face was crushed into an expression of so much pain I practically felt it myself. It brought back terrible memories of feelings and fears from my own past. I remembered the horrible loneliness of lying in the dark, wondering how such an awful thing could be happening to me. I felt as if the whole world were cracking apart. And I wondered how I would survive.
I wasn’t sure if Joni would let me hug her, but I took a chance and wrapped my arms around her. She collapsed into me, soaking my shoulder with tears. I squeezed her tight. She felt like a small, trembling bird.
“It gets better, Joni. I swear, it does.” This was the only promise I could make. “The pain lessens and you make a new life.”
“Why … did she … go?” Joni choked her words out through choppy breath. “How … could … she?”
I didn’t know. “You should ask her someday,” I suggested softly. I hoped that once their mother was settled, the kids would see and hear more from her. But that was a promise I couldn’t make.
I went to the dresser for a box of tissues. “Listen, Joni, no matter how your father feels about your mother, it won’t change how he feels about you and Ewan,” I said, handing her the tissues. “You’ll always be his kids and he loves you so much.”
“He hates me,” she sniffed, wiping her nose.
Despite the sadness of the moment, I laughed grimly. “He doesn’t hate you,” I said. “You’ve just been driving him crazy and he’s fed up with the things you’ve been doing.”
Joni smiled ruefully. “I have been pretty terrible.”
“He gets mad, but I’m sure he understands,” I said.
A knock came at the door and Mom stuck her head in. “Can I help?” she asked.
I didn’t think she could. “We’ll be down in a minute,” I assured her. She nodded and left. “What do you say?” I asked. “Want to try again? You don’t have to eat the turkey. There’s lots of other stuff to eat.”<
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“I like turkey,” she admitted. That made us both smile.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back.”
She nodded and we returned to the dining room. We were met with the odd sight of Mom, John, and Ewan all eating in silence. The music had been turned off. Mom looked up and smiled softly at us. John kept eating.
“Hey, Joni, the turkey is good,” Ewan said enthusiastically. “You should have some even if you are a vegetable now.”
That caused smiles all around.
“A vegetarian,” she corrected him. “Not a vegetable. Okay, I’ll have some.”
The rest of the meal was somewhere between okay and not too bad — but not great. It surprised me that Mom and John were the two who seemed the most tense with each other. I don’t think they exchanged a word for the rest of the meal. I wondered what had happened while I was upstairs with Joni.
The Brookes stayed for dessert. Joni even offered to help with the dishes. When we were finished, we left the kitchen and found John on the couch with Ewan asleep beside him. He picked up Ewan and let him sleep on his shoulder. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “I think we’d better get going.”
Mom got their coats and we walked the Brookes to the door. “ ’Bye, Stacey. ’Bye, Mrs. McGill. Thank you,” Joni said at the door.
“You’re very welcome,” Mom told her. She gave Joni a light hug and Joni didn’t seem to mind.
John caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back at him. He’d scared me a little at the dinner table. But once again, he and I were on the same team, happy that things were finally working out.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” Mom said after we shut the door and the Brookes were in their car.
“It was pretty tense,” I admitted. “But a lot of good things came out of it. You saw how much better Joni was after she came downstairs, didn’t you?”
Mom stroked my hair. “You’re a wonder, Stacey. What did you say to her?”
“Just that I understood a lot of her feelings.”
Mom nodded. “They’re really sweet kids. Their mother must have done something right.”
“What about John?” I reminded her. “He’s a great father.”
“Do you think so?”
“Of course! Don’t you think so?”
She sighed and shook her head. Then without saying anything, she began walking up the stairs.
“Mom!” I cried, trailing after her into her bedroom. “How can you think that? He’s great with those kids.”
“He’s too tough on Joni. She’s a little girl who has just gone through a terrible trauma. He’s so impatient.”
“Yeah, but he gets over it. Abby said that when Joni threw his mouse into the tree, he actually chuckled.”
“Yes, and later he grounded her.”
“She was terrible that day. He would have been a bad father if he had let her get away with everything,” I countered.
Mom sat on her bed looking pale and tired.
“You’ll see, the next time will be better,” I said. “Now that Joni has a better attitude, our next dinner will be much better.”
“I don’t think there will be any more dinners,” Mom said evenly. “I’m going to tell John this isn’t working.”
My jaw dropped. Was she crazy? “Why?” I blurted out.
“There are things that bother me about him. Did you notice that he didn’t bother to offer to help with the dishes? Who does he think he is — the king? What kind of obnoxious macho example is that for Ewan?”
“That’s a little thing,” I argued. “You could mention it to him and he might change. But —”
“There are other things,” she cut me off. “I think he’s a charming but self-centered person. I don’t want to be with someone like that. Not again. Your father was involved with his work and John is involved with John.”
“Mom, you’re just making excuses,” I said angrily. “He’s a great guy! He’s your Mr. Darcy!”
“No, he’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“Stacey,” she snapped. “I don’t tell you who to date! Don’t tell me!”
“You won’t even give him a chance!” I yelled as I stormed out of her room. I couldn’t believe my own mother could be so stupid.
It was a good thing I’d planned to go into Manhattan the next day to see Dad for the weekend. Mom had taken Friday off from work, and if she and I had been around each other too much that day we would have had a giant fight for sure.
I was so angry with her. The way I saw it, everyone else was trying like crazy to make her relationship with John work. Even Joni had started to try. Everyone was giving it a chance — except her. All she could do was study John and search for faults in him.
So what if he wore tinted contact lenses? Was that a crime? And she wasn’t even sure he did! And I bet if she’d said, “John, could you help with the dishes?” he would have. He could have had his reasons for not helping. Maybe he wanted to give Joni a chance to be alone with us. Or he needed to spend some time alone with Ewan. She didn’t know.
At breakfast, Mom and I barely spoke. Mom seemed preoccupied, more faraway than angry. Something was on her mind. Probably John. “What time is your train?” she asked as we cleared the breakfast dishes.
“Ten,” I told her. “We better get going.”
She nodded. “Are you packed?”
“Yes.” I’d been packed since the night before. After our argument, I’d worked off my anger at her by jamming things into my suitcase.
“Let’s go, then,” she said, plucking her shoulder bag off the back of a chair.
I took my suitcase from the bottom of the stairs and joined her in the car. We pulled out of the driveway and drove for almost a mile without talking. Finally I couldn’t control my curiosity anymore. I needed to know. “Are you going to break up with John this weekend?”
Without turning toward me, she nodded.
I wanted to shout, Don’t do it! A guy like John doesn’t come along every day! There didn’t seem any point, though. Her mind was made up.
How would John take this news? I wished I could warn him. Maybe I’d call him when I got to the city.
As we waited on the station platform for the train, I felt I had to say something. “Mom, maybe you should wait,” I suggested. “Think about it over the weekend.”
“I can’t. John wants to go out on Saturday and I can’t go on a date knowing I intend to break up with him.”
I could understand that. But … still. “If you go on the date, maybe you’ll realize that you don’t want to break up.”
“Stacey, John is the first man I’ve seriously dated since your dad and I divorced. Don’t you think I should see who else is out there?”
The train arrived and cut short our conversation. Mom and John were all I could think of on the trip to the city.
Dad met me on the platform when my train pulled into Grand Central Station. I ran into his arms, so glad to see him. Even though Dad works too much, he’s a great guy. He took my bag and smiled at me. “How was Thanksgiving?” he asked.
A rush of words came to mind — and stopped before they could tumble out of my mouth. Something stopped me from telling him about the Brookes. Specifically about John. It was silly, I suppose. After all, Dad had a girlfriend. Mom knew about her. Why shouldn’t he know she was dating?
Although it made no sense, I couldn’t do it. “Good,” I said. “Quiet.”
“Mine too. Samantha and I didn’t feel like traveling. Too much traffic on Thanksgiving. We went to the Oak Room at the Plaza.”
“Nice.”
“Yes, it was,” he agreed, though I sensed from his quiet voice that he’d have preferred a big family Thanksgiving.
We spent a fun day together at the Museum of Modern Art and then went to Chinatown for dinner. Afterward, we walked around the busy, narrow streets looking in shops. I bought some earrings for myself. I also bought a Chinese fan I thought Joni might like and a small ceramic dr
agon for Ewan. I had the feeling I might not be seeing much of them anymore. The idea made me sad.
I didn’t have the chance to phone Ethan until we got back to the apartment around seven-thirty. “I’ll be right over,” he said.
You never saw anyone shower, wash and blow-dry her hair, and change into a new outfit so fast. In less than half an hour, Ethan was at Dad’s door. And I was ready.
I have to tell you something about Ethan. He’s totally adorable. He has deep blue eyes, long, almost-black hair, and a small gold earring in one ear. I think he could be a model with his straight nose, high cheekbones, and wide mouth.
It might be because I don’t see him often that every time I set eyes on him, I’m amazed all over again. He’s the nicest guy, so easy to talk to. He’s an art student here in the city. My best friend, Claudia, and my boyfriend, Ethan, are both artists. I must like artists.
“Hi, Stace,” he said, wrapping me in a hug. “Happy belated Thanksgiving. How was it?”
“Wait until I tell you,” I said, happy finally to be with someone I could talk things over with. Dad gave me permission to go out with Ethan as long as I was back by ten.
The air had grown very cold. I pulled up my jacket collar and jammed my hands into my pockets. We walked down Madison Avenue, looking at the people and in the stores. Ethan told me about a big art show his school was putting together. He was busy getting his work together for it. We stopped for tea in a small café. That was when I told him about Mom and John, and how silly Mom was acting.
Ethan leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, but she’s your mom,” he said. “You’ve got to back her up.”
“Even if she’s about to do something dumb?”
“She backs you up, doesn’t she?” He knew she did, because I’d told him so. “She might know things about him that you don’t see. He might have said stuff to her that’s influencing her decision.”
“Or maybe she’s just afraid of getting into another relationship,” I suggested.
“That could be. But it’s her decision.”
“I feel so bad about this,” I said, “and I’m not exactly sure why.”
“It might be because you and your mom had an argument,” he said. “And maybe you’re sorry your matchmaking didn’t work.”
Stacey McGill... Matchmaker? Page 7