Home in Time for Christmas (10 page)

“Good night, Melody. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“Good night, Jake,” she said. “Thank you.”

“The thanks is mine, Melody. You have done so much for me.”

“I hit you on an icy road.”

“No, you gave me a brand-new world. And more. The kindness of this family. Well, good night.”

She didn't have a chance to say more. He stepped out, closing her door behind him.

 

Mona was humming. She was in the kitchen preparing pancakes. Bacon sizzled on one griddle, while pancakes were fluffing up. Her mother loved to cook, and the kitchen had been outfitted for that love bit by bit over the years.

“Smells wonderful, Mom,” Melody said.

Mona cast a shrewd gaze in her direction. “You took your baby brother out last night, eh?”

Melody snatched a piece of bacon. “Mom, I have news for you. My baby brother took me out last night. Well, he took Jake out, too, of course.”

“I heard you all clattering up the stairs,” Mona said.

“He hired a car, Mom, so none of us would have a single drink and get behind the wheel,” Melody said.

“Yes, I know. That was good. But still…”

“It was Guinness, Mom. Guinness stout. We must have Irish in us somewhere along the way.”

“Really? I love Italian wines. And I'm not Italian.”

“Oh, Mom, we don't know what we are. We're a bunch of mutts.”

Melody grinned. Her mother wasn't angry; she was glad that her children had the sense to hire a car, and she didn't know that Keith had gotten a wee bit more than carried away.

“Mutts, hmm? Speaking of mutts, will you feed the dogs for me, please?”

“Of course. Jimmy, Brutus? Where are you, you monsters?”

The little clacking sound that always accompanied Brutus could be heard coming down the hallway. In a minute, both dogs were in the kitchen. Melody gave them affection along with their dog bowls. As she did so, she was aware that her mother was still watching her.

“What's wrong, Mom?” she asked.

“Why, nothing is wrong. Is something wrong with you, dear? Something you care to share with me?”

“No. Oh, guess what? Jake played with an Irish band last night. He's taken a job with them tonight, out at the castle.”

“Really?” Mona said. She smiled.

“What?”

“Your father and I are invited to that party.”

“Oh?” Startled, Melody almost dropped Kibbles 'n Bits all over the kitchen.

Mona smiled serenely. “Do you know whose having the party?” she asked.

“No,” Melody said. The way her mother was smiling, she didn't think that she wanted to know. “Who?” There was no choice but to ask.

“Friends of mine,” Mona said.

“Which friends?” Melody asked.

“Yes,” Mona said serenely.

Melody frowned, hesitated, and waited, then carefully asked her question again. “Mom, I asked which friends.”

“Oh. I thought you said
witch
friends, and yes, actually, it's the Wicked Wiccan Christmas Ball that's being held there. You know those folks—they do love Irish music. Well, I suppose because a lot of the current Wiccan beliefs date back to pagan times and Druids and all that. Back in Ireland. Well, other places as well, I suppose, but mainly Ireland. So, I had assumed they'd be hiring an Irish band. I didn't realize that Jake was Irish. I thought he said that he was English.”

“He's probably a real American mutt, Mom, no matter where his family hailed from. He…he knows a lot of Irish tunes, that's all.”

“Well, how lovely. I hadn't decided yet whether to go
or not—you know how your father can be around some of my friends.”

“Oh, come on, Mom, Dad is never rude.”

“No, he's just a bit…well, you can tell he doesn't believe in them, or worse. He doesn't believe that they believe in themselves, that it's all kind of a commercial thing. I mean, let's face it, down in Salem, the witch shops there do flourish.”

If her mother and father were going, she certainly had to find a way to be there.

She closed the bag of dog food thoughtfully. “Mom, what exactly do you believe?”

“Well, I still go to the Anglican church,” Mona said.

“I didn't ask you that. I asked you what
you
believe.”

Mona flipped a pancake, and then took it off the griddle. She turned to Melody. “Me? I'm an eternal optimist. I believe all things are possible. I believe that there is a God, and that he does show himself to different people in different ways. Christ was the son of God, and the son of man, but to a child living in the center of Asia or Africa or China, perhaps he has himself seen in another way. I believe, more than anything, in the power of love. I think we'll be judged on how we behaved to our fellow citizens here on earth, and not on how we sat in a church, a temple, a synagogue, mosque or any other place of worship. I believe…I believe that we do have the power to find love and happiness, and perhaps finding that within us is the greatest gift that we're given, but we must work to achieve it. I believe that everyone out there has the absolute right to believe what they choose to believe, and that I have no right to ridicule them. The
worst thing we can do is persecute others for being different from ourselves. I…”

Mona ran out of steam and stared at Melody.

She hadn't heard her brother come into the kitchen.

His wry comment startled her.

“Bravo, Mom! But then, you are from Massachusetts, and we are one liberal state.”

“Thank you, son. I pour my heart out, and that's the comment I get!” Mona said.

Keith grinned and went to his mother and hugged her. “I think you're wonderful. I'm proud of you, maternal figure.”

Mona pushed him away. “Breakfast is almost ready. And I adore you, son, and you know it.”

“Mom has an invitation to the castle tonight, Keith.”

“Really? Great. What is it?”

“It's the Wicked Wiccan Christmas Ball,” Melody said.

“Oh? Cool! Hey, we won't need Jake to finagle us invitations then, will we?” he asked his mother, frowning.

“Of course, you children may come along,” Mona said. Keith went to steal a piece of bacon. Mona slapped his hand. “I'm ready to put this all out on the table. Get the maple syrup, please, and milk, coffeepot, and someone grab the orange juice.”

Mona went on out carrying the platters of pancakes and bacon.

Melody went to the refrigerator, staring at her brother.

“Headache?” she asked him.

He grinned. “Sorry, none at all.”

“No hangover at all?”

“Nope.”

“You deserve the worst, you know!”

“Hey, I was a good guy. I thought we had a great time.”

“We did,” Melody admitted. “But I'm worried about tonight.”

“Kids?” Mona called.

“Why?” Keith asked quickly.

“It's all her Wiccan friends. What if…”

“Don't live life on what-ifs, sis. It's not good. And, hey, let's go have a good time. Lover boy Mark will be here tomorrow!”

She grated her teeth. “He's not my lover boy.”

“Ah. He thinks he is!”

“Where's Jake?”

“On his way down. I see a love triangle a-comin'.”

“Keith, will you give me a break? Stop it.”

“Gonna tell on me?” he teased. “Think they'll send me to my room?”

“Careful, little brother, I can still make you pay.”

Wiggling his brows, Keith went out with the maple syrup and coffeepot. Shaking her head, Melody took the orange juice and milk from the refrigerator and followed him.

As she went through the swinging door to the dining room, she saw Jake coming in from the hallway. He caught her eyes and smiled. It was just a smile. Juice trembled in her hand.

Got to stop this,
she warned herself.

And, of course, she didn't want to be worried about Mark, but she was.

It wasn't so much a matter of losing her determination
that they weren't meant to work together as a couple, it was that she was worried about hurting him, about her family, the combination of her family and Mark—and now, Jake.

Mona asked Melody to bring an extra bottle of syrup from the kitchen. Finally about to sit with the others, Melody discovered that her father, Jake and Keith had gotten into a discussion on waves and the speed of sound.

“There were a number of studies going on at the university regarding the speed of sound,” George said, helping himself to the bacon. “Any of it is quite fascinating. Sound traveling, light traveling. To reach certain points in the heavens, we're talking hundreds and thousands of years. How far will sound travel before it fades completely? What frequencies will be heard by others? Is there life on other planets?”

“Dad,” Melody said, aware that Jake was watching him intently.

“So what is your work now?” Jake asked George.

“Telepathy,” Keith suggested with a smile.

George frowned at Keith.

“Hey, I've seen telepathy at work,” Keith assured him.

“Telepathy. What am I thinking?” Melody demanded, shaking her head.

“I didn't say that I was capable of telepathy,” Keith said. “But—once again, at a prestigious university, mind you—they are doing many experiments and it's amazing what can be accomplished. I saw a fellow guess every card on a deck of fifty different symbols.”

“Maybe he memorized them. Maybe the cards were marked,” Melody said.

“Ouch. Poor baby—your glass is half-empty, isn't it?” Keith teased.

“Nothing that I'm working on right now has to do with mental capabilities,” George said. “It all has to do with frequencies and waves. But just think about the things we've been able to do. Or how remarkable, unbelievable—some things we take for granted today would appear to someone who, say, just popped in from a couple of hundred years ago.”

Melody nearly spit coffee across the table. She choked, and coughed.

Her mother patted her on the back.

“Are you all right, dear?” Mona asked.

“Fine,” she said.

George wagged a finger at her. “And another thing I'm interested in is—black holes! Amazing. Magnetic properties of the earth combined with the technology of man.”

“Help me, help me!” Keith teased.

“All right, when you see me walking around with a giant fly head, I'll quit, okay?” George asked.

“Dear, speaking of flies, I think we will go to the Wicked Wiccan Christmas Ball tonight. Jake has a job playing there with the band, and the kids want to go,” Mona said.

“Mom, what does that have to do with flies?” Melody asked.

“Flies—fly. The concept of witches is that they can fly on broomsticks. Of course, we all know that's not at all true, but…fly. And fly,” Mona explained.

“Great logic, Mom,” Keith assured her.

George groaned. “Really?”

“Dad, it will be great,” Melody said.

“Honestly, sir. I met the fellows last night with whom I'll be playing. Quite fine. I think it will be tremendously enjoyable,” Jake said.

“And what do you think of all this Wiccan malarkey?” George asked.

“I think it's amazing that we've come so far in American history that any man can practice any form of life or worship,” Jake said sincerely.

George looked at Mona helplessly. “I suppose it is better, much better, than…well, than the old way.” He frowned. “Yes, we've come far. Yes, we've a long way to go.” His frown became a grin as he looked at his wife. “Yes, I think most of your Wiccan friends just really love dressing up in black, and looking like the real thing for their commercial stores,” George told her.

“You're going to have to behave,” Mona said primly.

“I intend to behave. I'm never rude, Mona.”

“Not purposely, but you can't laugh when someone says that they're a medium, George,” Mona said.

“There will be mediums there? Fortune-tellers, crystal-ball readers?” Jake asked.

“All of the above,” George said wryly.

“If waves can go anywhere, then so can the human mind, perhaps,” Jake said.

“Dad, Mom is right, you know—and so is Jake,” Keith said. He winced. “The last time one of Mom's friends said she was a
medium,
you said that she looked as if she were a small. Not a good joke at a Wiccan party, Dad.”

“Oh, come on, don't Wiccans have senses of humor?” he asked.

“Not when you push it, Dad,” Melody reminded. “You asked another of her medium friends if she was ever rare or well done,” Melody said.

George groaned. “Okay, okay, I'll just have my palm read. But if they tell me I'm going to have four children, I'm leaving!”

Mona rose, rolling her eyes. “You will behave, or I'll start working on some kind of waves myself out there in that lab of yours, and I promise you'll be sorry!”

She carried her plate into the kitchen. They all rose to do the same.

“What will you kids do today?” George asked. “The snow is soft up on the hill. You could take Jake snowboarding or tubing.”

“That sounds great,” Melody said.

“I really must continue with research,” Jake said.

“Research?” George said, frowning. “But you're here for Christmas vacation, young man.”

“Ah, but Christmas comes quickly,” Jake said. “And I'm afraid that—”

“He's such a hard worker!” Melody said, grabbing Jake's arm. “Come on, Jake, I'm sure we can play in the snow and get in some research, too. Right, Keith?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, certainly,” Keith said. He added in a whisper, “You owe me!”

“Hey, I feed your broken-down pet parade all the time!” Melody whispered back heatedly.

“Oh, right, like this is anywhere near the same thing!”