“I’m sorry. What is it? Has James come home yet?”
“Not yet.” He set his cup on the counter. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He reached into the upper cupboard for the cocoa mix. “I’m having some cocoa. You want a cup?”
She started to shake her head, but he tilted his head in question. “All right,” she conceded. She started to rise.
“No, I’ve got it. You sit.” He put a teapot on and set out another cup of mix. “You’ve been awfully quiet,” he began. “Everything okay?”
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“Well, let’s see.” He stepped out from behind the counter and tapped off his observations on his fingers. “You’ve been sitting there reading the same page in that book for the last twenty minutes. Before that, you sat in the chair and read the comŹics page for half an hour. Before that, you sat at the desk and worked on a letter for almost an hour.”
His mother waved off any further commentary. “I get the point. If you’ve been watching me, what have you accomplished in the last two hours?”
“Finished wrapping presents,” he said proudly.
“I see.” The teakettle whistled, and he turned away to pour and stir. When he carried the cups into the living room, offering her one as he sat down, she blew on it and took a sip, then asked, “When did you have time for shopping?”
He shook his head. “Who says I shopped?” Thomas grinned at her. “Don’t ask me what I got you, and I won’t ask what Santa’s bringing me.”
She laughed heartily. “You and James haven’t believed in Santa in almost five years.”
“So why is there a package marked ‘From Santa’ under the tree?”
His mother pursed her lips. “I got a little something for Cassidy’s son.”
“Pretty big box.”
She swatted his arm. “Now who’s being nosy?” She lifted the mug in her palms and sipped, then exhaled. “It’s a kid-sized hiking pack, if you must know. He liked yours so much, I thought I’d get him his own.”
“Was that phone call you took from Ms. Hyland?”
“Yes. She took Ryan to Missouri for the holidays.”
“Well, I guess I’ll hold her present until she gets back then.”
“You bought her a present?”
“Well, yeah, I did. I got her a pair of climbing gloves,” he answered sheepishly. She frowned at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Thomas, she’s… I’m sure she’ll love the gloves, but, sweetheart, you shouldn’t continue this infatuation with her.”
Thomas felt his face get hot. “I like her.”
“She’s twice your age. It’s not healthy.” She hesitated as she decided how to conŹtinue. “I thought you were doing well with Cheryl.”
“Cheryl’s nice, but she’s more interested in dances and going shopping than things that matter.”
“Thomas,” she patted his arm, making his frown deepen. “Yes, you are more mature than the average teen. I admire that. But there is such a thing as growing up too fast.”
He pulled away from her and stood, pacing away from the couch. “I don’t want to spend time with empty-headed girls, worrying about my clothes or my hair.” He wanted to convince his mother of his earnestness. “I’ve been thinking about Ryan, too. I’d be good for him. We get along so well. I can show him things he should know.”
“Thomas, you can’t possibly be thinking that you could be a father to that boy. You aren’t even responsible for yourself yet.” Brenna stood, squeezing a couch pillow between her hands. “I know you find her fascinating and she’s very engaging, but Thomas, she’ll never feel the same way about you.”
“I thought we really hit it off,” he said, sitting down, deflating a little in the face of his mother’s objections.
“You did…as friends.” She drew a short breath, sat beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders. “You taught her to climb in a single afternoon. That takes incredible talent. You impressed her, but that’s very different from love.”
He leaned forward over his knees and braced his elbows on them as he covered his face. “You’re telling me I’ve been obvious?” When he turned his head toward her, she nodded. “God, she must think I’m such a”
“I just told you she thinks you’re talented.”
“But I’m only seventeen to her.”
“You are seventeen. That’s not a bad thing. You’ve got a lot of choices ahead of you.” She leaned back and rubbed between his shoulder blades; he shrugged off the touch. “Come on. What’s wrong with being her friend? I enjoy that role myself.”
“Mom, it’s not the same thing.”
“No, it’s not.” She straightened. “It’s not going to be. She and I are peers. But you two can be friends. I’d like you to be. If you’re comfortable around her, she’ll be comfortable around here. That’s important to me.” She grew wistful.
Thomas hated when his mother got uncertain. He quickly assured her, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll figure it out. I promise.”
“Thank you, sweetheart.” She hugged him. “Someday you will find someone suited just for you.”
He pursed his lips and nodded tightly. It felt unlikely at the moment. Cassidy Hyland was, as his mother had said, both captivating and engaging. She also stirred him in ways Cheryl or his other girlfriends never had. When he was around her, he felt smart, thoughtful, respected. She made him feel mature, though he knew there
were many things he still needed to understand. He look it deep breath. Maybe there would be only friendship for them, but he suspected he would always harbor a love for Cassidy for sharing that with him.
Brenna stood as he did and touched his shoulder. “It’s Christmas live. Would you like to attend midnight Mass?”
“What about James?”
“Curfew’s in another few minutes,” his mother said. A vehicle pulled up outside even as she spoke. “Probably him now. Let’s get changed, and we’ll all go.”
“All right.”
The door opened, closed, and James swept into the living room. Thomas noticed immediately something was wrong. When his mother called to him, James only dropped his head and waved before quickly passing through to his room.
“James?” Brenna tried again. She brushed past Thomas, turning back as she reached the hall. “Go on and get changed. I’ll talk to James.”
She hurried to James’ bedroom door only to find it shut tight. “James, sweetŹheart?” She tried the knob and found it locked. “Can I come in, find out about your evening?”
“Go away.”
His voice was muffled enough that she could not discern any particular emoŹtion in it. “If you’re hurt about something I’d like to help.”
“You can’t help. I just need to be alone.”
Brenna swallowed hard, fighting the emotions stirred by her conversation with Thomas. She had come so close to telling him more, much more, than he should know about her relationship with Cassidy.
“James, unlock the door.” There was a long silence while she waited, then came the telltale noise of the lock disengaging. She reached for the knob and turned it, pushing inward. James straddled his desk chair, his head down on crossed hands on the back of the chair.
“Mom…”
She heard the pain lancing through his voice now that it was no longer muffled by the door. “What happened?”
“Marcie dumped me.” He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it on the desk. “I’ve been walking around downtown for the last hour trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
Her heart clenched with sympathy and with fear. “That’s so dangerous, honey.” She stood close but didn’t touch him.
“I know; I’m sorry. What did I do wrong, Mom?”
James turned, and Brenna saw the tearstains on his face. “You didn’t do anyŹthing wrong; sometimes it just happens.” She crouched next to him and put a hand on the desk, looking into his face. “I know it hurts. It won’t make this any less painŹ
ful, but, there will be other girls.”
James’ jaw hardened, just like his father’s did when he was trying to suppress emotions he thought inappropriate to display. She rubbed her thumb over his chin, feeling it tremble slightly. His gaze cleared just a little at the familiar, comforting touch. Knowing him as she did, she changed the subject. “It’s Christmas Eve. ThoŹmas and I were going to attend mass.”
“I don’t want to go out. People will laugh at me.”
“No, they won’t. You’ve always enjoyed the music. It might ease the pain, just a little.” He nodded briefly. Quickly, as he preferred, she caught up his head and shoulŹders in a hug, no more than a squeeze, and stood away. “Get changed and I’ll see you
in a few minutes, all right?”
Brenna left him and went to her own room. She wanted to tuck the last presents under the tree before the boys came out. Quickly she changed for the service, pulling on a jade green pant suit and draping a diaphanous emerald scarf around her shoulŹders. Then she pulled two objects from her closet shelf one wrapped in navy blue with a mistletoe print and the other, a round cylinder, papered in metallic red. PutŹting on soft leather green pumps, she carried the presents out and set them beneath the tree that glowed in the far corner of the living room.
She was just standing when her sons appeared, ready to go. Each had chosen a simple green dress shirt to wear under a blue suit jacket. Thomas’ was a vertical striped forest green and black. James wore a solid aquamarine. She grinned at both of them and stood.
“Presents?” James asked.
“You’ll see them in the morning.” Brenna saw that James had washed his face and looked better than he had a few minutes earlier. She put a light hand on each shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Putting the children to bed after hanging up their stockings, the adults gathŹered in the living room. Some had coffee, Travis with a shot of whiskey in his, and Cassidy had chosen cocoa. The stocking stuffers, little baubles and toy knick-knacks, were pulled out. As they parceled out the treats, filling the children’s stockings, Cassidy was surprised at the unusual solemnity. Normally this task, the adults’ last one on Christmas Eve, was joyful, and even though they couldn’t talk loudly, they would usually whisper back and forth. No one tonight was saying a word, and Cassidy was disturbed to feel that she was the reason why.
“Can we talk about what the problem is?” she asked. “I can’t address it if I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done wrong.”
Her father scowled at her. “As if you didn’t know.”
“Well, I don’t know. Obviously it’s something I did on the show, or something someone else did. But I thought I didn’t have to remind you that it’s all a fantasy. I act for a living. I’m not a secretary or a teacher; I’m an actor.”
“So what you do is a game?”
“I take it very seriously. You know that.”
“Then how could you participate in something like that? You kissed a woman, and all our friends think you’re a lesbian” Her mother hissed the last word.
Oh boy. Cassidy exhaled. “An accident had switched our bodies. It was supŹposed to be seen as Luria that’s the other character kissing her husband.”
“That doesn’t excuse it.”
“Did you even see it? Do you understand what it was actually about, or are the neighbors your judges now?”
“How dare you!” Her father’s voice rose angrily. Her mother put a hand on him quickly to quiet him. “You blindly think we’d accept such a display? Homosexuality is a sin against God.”
Cassidy hung the stocking she had been working on, a sinking feeling making her chest feel heavy. She strove for a calm response. “I’m sorry that you’ve been embarrassed by your narrow-minded neighbors.”
“They’re our friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry; that’s all? You’re sorry?”
Her father stared at her with an angry expression and Cassidy felt her adrenaline start to flow. The longer he stared at her, the more hurt and surprised she was, feeling just as she often had just before Mitch hit her. Her father hadn’t struck her since disciplining her as a very young child. Abruptly, he backed up, pushed away Sylvia’s hand, turned, and walked away. Travis reached up from the couch and tried to grasp his arm. Gerry brushed that away as well.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Dad,” Cassidy called after him.
“Everyone,” Sylvia said, “I think we’re all tired. Time for bed.”
One by one the family left the living room. Cassidy looked after them. Travis was the last to stand to leave. “Uncle Travis?”
“Hopefully there won’t be any more shows like that one,” he said. “Gerry was not happy.”
“But it’s just a show. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do,” he said gently. He rested his hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead. “Good night, Cassie.”
Restlessly rolling around beneath the covers, Ryan woke. His mother lay beside him, and from the quiet sounds he knew she was sleeping. Uncle Travis had read the story about Santa Claus, and Ryan still had the pictures in his head. He had to see. Getting to the floor, he stumbled over something. When he looked, he found another present his mother must have forgotten to put under the tree. He thought he could do it for her and carried it with him out to the den. The fire glowed orange and the stocking Grandpa had helped him hang bulged in the dim light. Santa’s already been here! he thought excitedly, putting the box under the tree.
“Mommy! Mommy!” He ran back into the bedroom and launched himself onto the bed with a squeal. “Santa’s been here!”
His mother rolled over and sat up, brushing her hair from her face. “What? Ryan, it’s…” she squinted toward the bedside clock, “it’s only three a.m. At least wait until six. Jimmy will be up then, all right?” She pulled him down with her under the covers and murmured, “Now try to go back to sleep.”
Obediently, he closed his eyes, but sleep did not come. He squirmed. “Mommy?”
“Yes?” She sounded tired.
“How much longer?”
“About three hours. Please go to sleep.” She brushed his hair with her fingers and kissed his forehead.
“I can’t. Can I wake Jimmy up now?”
Cassidy moved away from him, and then suddenly the room was filled with light. He blinked as she looked down at him from the edge of the bed. “I know it’s Christmas and I know you’re excited, but you really need to sleep.”
“Read me a story?”
Sitting up in the bed, she pulled a big book out of the nearby bookshelf. “Just one story, all right?”
“Okay.” He settled between her legs and helped her open the book to a story. “Little Red Riding Hood,” he read carefully. The squeeze on his shoulder told him he had gotten it right.
A tale unfolded of a little girl hunted down by a wolf who pretended to be her grandmother. Ryan was excited by the end of the story where the woodcutter killed
the wolf with hsi ace. “He saved her from the mean old wolf,” he cheered at the end. “He saved her.”
“Yes, he did.” She kissed his cheek and pulled the book away. “Now, that’s your one story. Let’s try to go back to sleep.” He yawned, and after she turned off the light and pulled him down across her chest, he closed his eyes as she patted his back, with her heartbeat strong in his ear.
“I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, Ryan.”
Her voice was soft, sleepy. Ryan found it easy to succumb to sleep himself.
Chapter 41
Comfortably ensconced on the couch, Brenna sipped her coffee as she watched Thomas and James opening their presents. Gift cards from their father were already tucked in their wallets for the holiday trip to the mall tomorrow. Shaking her head about the absurdity of a father who neither called nor wrote except to send money, Brenna watched James opening his last gift from her. It was the package she had tucked under the tree
at the last minute, but the one she’d worked longest on in prepŹaration for the holidays. She hoped he would still like it. Music tastes changed so fast.
He unfolded the white tee shirt, looking blankly at the back for a moment before turning it around. His eyes widened, and he yipped, “Lifehouse! This is so cool! How’d you get all the autographs?”
She grinned as two oblong pieces of paper fluttered from the folds of the fabric. “There’s more,” she said.
He set aside the tee shirt and snatched up the strips of cardboard. “Tickets to their concert! Cool!” He tucked the tickets into his shirt pocket and turned back to the tee. “How did you get the autographs?”
“They are an L.A. band, you know,” she said with a smile. “I…ran into someone who knows them.”
“No way.”
Laughing, she responded in teen parlance, “Way.” Obviously boggled at the autographs, James immediately pulled the shirt on over his other one, which made her grin broaden.
Thomas, who had watched quietly through the exchange, finished opening the small present from his Uncle Gary, her brother. “Thomas, what have you got there?”
“Uncle Gary sent tickets to spring training exhibitions for the Dodgers. Says he got me some batting and pitching practice with them, too.”
Brenna looked at the tickets. “There’s two here for each game.”
“Yep.” Thomas read more of the note his uncle had included. “Says he’s going to take me. Looks like he’s coming for a visit.”
“There’s a half-dozen games here. That’s…what three weeks worth?”
“Yeah, probably. It’s usually two games a week.” He tucked the tickets safely in the small box and then turned to open the present from her.
Brenna suddenly realized there might be some conflicting dates. Biting her lower lip anxiously, she awaited Thomas’ reaction.
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