Starting Over

Chapter 13

Chapter 13Janet rolled over and eyed the alarm clock next to her bed. 8:22 AM. Holy crap! She threw a robe on, let Cleo out of his kennel and flew down the hall. Of all days to oversleep, Christmas morning was not the one of them. Not when a twenty-one pound turkey had to be done before people arrived. Then again, she'd been up past twelve the night before cleaning and gift-wrapping. She rounded the corner to the kitchen and ran into Nate, who was sitting at the breakfast bar. He was in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. In front of him was a gift he'd just finished wrapping. He topped it with a bow, reached down into the bag beside him and drew out a box of fragrant soaps, lotions and bubble-bath beads. Obviously, they weren't for her. Probably for Megan. As he set them in front of him, he glanced up at her.

“Morning,” he said.

“Merry Christmas,” she said and giving him a peck on the cheek, she went over and flipped the door open to the fridge. “Can you take Cleo out for his walk?” When he didn't answer, she turned around. “Nate?”

He set the tape dispenser down and took a sip from the mug beside him. “Yeah, sure. What's the rush?”

She took a deep breath and swallowed the sudden urge to yank him off his stool. But it wasn't the right time to have it out with him about attitude. Yes, he was mad about her refusal to let him read the letters his father had buried behind the cottage, but he was acting like a jerk. She wrestled the turkey out and set it in the sink. “I overslept, that's what's the rush. And I have a ton of food to prepare.”

He turned his eyes upward and shook his head. “Mom, it's no big deal. No one's gonna be running the glove on you.”

She whirled around, knowing what he meant, but not appreciating his making light of the impending disaster in front of her. “What?”

“The glove…inspection!”

“Just do it, please,” she said.

“Yeah, whatever.” He got up. Shuffled over to the patio door, shoved his feet in his slippers and snapped his fingers at the dog. “Come on, boy. Let's get out of here before she blows.”

“Get a jacket on, it's cold out there,” she said to the door shutting behind him with a click. Damn him! She closed her eyes, pinned her hands on the lip of the counter and leaned forward, clenching her teeth. This was the last thing she needed on Christmas morning. Even though the last week hadn't been easy between them, she'd hoped he'd be pleasant today of all days. But it wasn't shaping up that way. I don't owe him an apology for respecting his father's wishes. Neil buried that box for a reason and I'm not going to feel guilty about it.

Except she did, and there was more to it than that. She was angry and scared. Angry that Nate wasn't talking to her about what happened in Iraq. Scared she was being locked out of his life. Though she had Megan and Trevor and the house as reminders of Neil, Nate was hers and Neil's alone and losing him frightened her more than anything in the world.

At length, she pressed her lips together and frowned as she watched her son walk with Cleo in the back yard. The two of them zig-zagged along, Cleo leading the way with his nose down low while dragging his long ears over the snow cover. Suddenly, a long forgotten memory of Nate surfaced. He was a little boy, and in her mind's eye she saw him walking Barney in the lot behind the cottage in Lincoln City. Where had time gone? Her throat tightened, but she forced the tears away and went back to the turkey.

As she crammed the last of the stuffing into the bird, Nate pulled back the patio door and came in with Cleo. From the corner of her eye, she watched him kick his snow-crusted slippers off and go back to wrapping gifts. For the next fifteen minutes the only sound in the room was Cleo munching his morning kibble, her chopping onions and potatoes and Nate cutting gift paper and wrapping it around boxes. Finally, she set her knife down, wiped her hands on a towel and turned to him. “I'm sorry.”

He stuck a tag on top of the gift he was wrapping, set it aside and looked up. “For what?”

“For being short with you. I just want everything to be ready when people arrive.”

“Everything'll be good. It always is,” he said in an off-hand tone. He put his wrapped gifts in the bag beside him and got up. “I'm going to put these under the tree and grab my shower. You need anything else before I go?”

Yes, I need my son back. “No, go get your shower.”

He nodded, took a couple steps then turned. “Oh…by the way, I got a job…well, sort of.”

“Really?”

“Yes, with Andy. Guess he needs a hand with his web site.” He shrugged. “Doesn't pay much, but it's something to do, I suppose.”

Thank you, Andy. She took a step toward Nate. When he stiffened, she stopped. “That's wonderful. When do you start?”

“Next week, after I get moved into my apartment. Umm… we have any boxes around?”

“I think so, in the garage. Why?”

“Thought I might start packing a few things for the move. Anyway, gonna get wet,” he said, turning away from her.

Really, Nate? It's Christmas! Are you that much in a hurry to get out of here? She watched his back retreat from her and felt stripped to the bone as the space widened between them. She clenched her jaw. He hates me, she thought as she threw herself back into preparing the turkey for the oven. But she couldn't fight the tears collecting in her eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. Merry f*****g Christmas, Janet.

As the morning wore on, she battled to remain in control of the emotional roller coaster she was riding. But the more she tried to ignore Nate's going about the house, asking whether he could borrow this or that for his apartment, the more the dagger of his leaving twisted inside her. She basted the turkey for the third time, poured herself a mug of tea and stepped into the Great Room wondering how she was going to make it through the day.

In the far corner by the hearth stood a twelve-foot Austrian Pine, wrapped in silver garland. It had taken some time finding one this year, but there were still a few farms up north that grew them. On it, a cascade of twinkling white lights meandered around silver and golden ornaments. Crowning it was an angel dressed in white taffeta. An antique Hummel manger huddled beside festively wrapped gifts. Red and white stockings hung from the mantel. Jingle Bell Rock rang from the CD player. A fire crackled in the hearth. But her gaze was pinned on the picture above the mantel. It was a picture of Neil and her that was taken shortly after they moved in. She gazed longingly at it, studied his robust nose, his full lips, his laughing blue eyes and fiery red hair. Felt herself transported back in time.

It was the Christmas of '96. She was a nervous wreck, worrying if her surprise for Neil was going to backfire. He hadn't seen his son, Trevor, in over twenty years. A lot of dark water had flowed between them during that time. The doorbell rang. She led Neil to the foyer, waited breathlessly in the eternity that passed between them. She would never forget the embrace that finally came. Father and son reunited. Outside of Nate's birth, it was the finest moment of her life.

“Mom, I think your friends from San Fran are here,” Nate said from the end of the hallway.

She started then turned and saw Nate standing with a box tucked under his arm. He pointed at the front window as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed the noon hour. Stepping to the front door, she saw Mick and Sandra getting out of their car.

Christ, they're early!

She ran to the mirror over the pedestal table in the foyer and combed her hair back with her fingers. Not her best face forward, but they were here. She stripped the stained white apron off and tossed it to Nate. “Can you throw this on the washer for me honey?”

He stuffed the wadded apron under the box he was carrying and left as the doorbell rang. Glancing at the mirror one last time, she stepped to the door and opened it. “Come in,” she said with as much excitement as she could muster.

“Hi!” Sandra cried as she stomped her feet, knocking the snow off her boots. She shed her coat as Mick followed her inside. “Merry Christmas,” she said wrapping her arms around Janet.

She lingered in the woman's embrace. “It's so good to see you. How was the flight?”

Mick kicked his boots off. “It was good. I was able to get us on an earlier flight so voila, here we are!” He panned the room. “Is Megan here yet? I haven't seen her in like…forever.”

“She'll be here soon,” Janet said.

Sandra walked into the room and ogled the tree. “Is that a Scotch Pine?”

“No, it's an Austrian,” Janet answered, joining her. She stood beside Sandra as the memory of her first Christmas with Neil flashed before her–remembered him dragging in a massive ornamental evergreen that took over the entire living room. Said it needed no decoration. Only his family heirloom angel on top. She smiled. “It was Neil's favorite, so it became sort of a tradition.”

Mick handed her a gift bag with a large red bow. “A little something for under the tree.”

She came to herself. “Oh, thanks. Can I get you guys something to drink? I have wine, coffee, soda, tea or beer.”

“I'll take a glass of wine,” Sandra said.

“Beer works for me,” Mick said.

Sandra said, “Where's Nate?”

Janet glanced toward the kitchen, remembering him with the box containing some of his belongings: belongings that were going to his new apartment…away from her. She shrugged. “Oh, he's around here somewhere.” She set the gift under the tree. Come on Janet; get it together. “Hey, why don't we head to the kitchen? I picked up some jumbo shrimp we can nibble on while we talk.”

“Mmmm…lead on,” Sandra said. As she walked beside Janet, she dropped her voice. “How is he?”

Janet shook her head. “Later.”

Sandra nodded as Nate rounded the corner with Cleo padding beside him. The two of them came to an abrupt halt. Nate said, “Oh, hi.”

“Hi, Nate,” Sandra said.

“Honey, you remember Mick and Sandra, right?” Janet added.

“Sure.” He turned to Janet. “Any idea where my baseball card collection is?”

Really Nate? Can't this packing wait? “Should be down in the basement,” Janet said, feeling her stomach knot and wanting to throttle him.

Mick slid up beside them and extended his hand. As Nate shook it, Mick said, “Looks like the leg's coming along good.”

“Working on it,” Nate said.

Suddenly, the front door opened. Janet turned around and saw Megan coming in with Ben. When Megan looked their way, her face lit up. “Mick!” She cried, rushing in, coat and boots still on. She threw her arms around him. “How the hell you been?”

Mick smiled. “Getting old. He glanced at Ben, who was removing his coat and tilted his head toward the man. “Not bad.”

As the reunion took place, Janet saw Nate's jaw tighten, giving the impression he wanted to be somewhere else. She tapped his arm. “Mind helping me open a couple bottles of Pinot?”

Nate started, wrinkled his brow. “Yeah, sure.”

She followed him in and when they were out of earshot of everyone, said, “Can we please be done with your packing for the day?”

He took down a couple of bottles from the wine rack. Set them on the counter. Leaning forward, he stared ahead. “Don't worry, Mom, I'm not going to ruin Christmas.”

“Never said you would,” she answered quietly. She opened the cabinet drawer and took out a corkscrew. Stepping beside him, she set the opener down. “I'm trying really hard here, Nate.”

He pressed his lips together. “Shall I open both of these or just one at a time?”

She peered haltingly at the ceiling as the memory of his condemning her at Trevor's house roared in her head. That he'd accused her of being cold and callous had crushed her. She loved his father more than anything and putting him in Hazelnut Manor had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. At last she said, “I'm not going to apologize to you or anyone else for honoring your father's wishes. You hear me?” She grabbed his arm. “Your father buried that box for a reason so get over yourself and stop acting like a child.”

“Acting like a child?” He gritted his teeth. “Really?”

He ripped his arm out of her grasp, tore the seal off one of the bottles and jammed the corkscrew in it. But behind his sullen glare there was something more. She studied him as he held her in a withering gaze. As she did so, she realized there was more to his anger than what had happened between them at Trevor's.

Her heart faltered. “Nate, there's more to this than that box, isn't there?”

He broke away and shook his head. “Doesn't matter, I'll be out of here in a few days.”

Trevor and Nadia were the last to arrive. Janet braced herself for the inevitable coming together of Megan and her brother. But by the time everyone had finished dinner, what had always been the most stressful part of the holidays–Megan's animosity toward her brother–had failed to materialize. Instead, it was she and Nate who had the problem. She eyed her son from across the room as people were opening their gifts. He was sitting quietly beside Mick near the tree, nursing a beer while watching the commotion going on around him. A stack of gifts next to him were untouched. She spotted her present resting at the bottom of his pile and wondered if had ended up there by accident or by intention.

At length, she glanced down at her stack of wrapped boxes and gift bags that were strewn about her feet. She sighed. Unwrapping gifts was the last thing she wanted to do right now. Her stomach churned, threatening to erupt at any minute. At last, she bent over and lifted a thin, hefty package onto her lap. After reading the attached card from Mick and Sandra, she peeled the wrapping away and gazed down at a Swarovski crystal frame. Her brow went up. Holy crap!

For some time, she stared at the gift dumbfounded, then called across the room to Mick. Holding the frame up, she said, “Thanks. It's beautiful.”

“You're welcome,” he answered as he opened a gift of his own.

“Hey, Nate, thanks,” Megan blurted out, holding up a cellophane wrapped collection of toiletries.

Nate raised his beer in salute and stretched his braced leg out in front of him.

“Hey, guy, you gonna open a gift?” Trevor said to Nate. “You've been sitting there for the last twenty minutes with nothing to show for it.”

“I guess.” Nate picked up a gift bag, reached inside and pulled out a bundle of army green dishtowels.

Megan leaned toward Nate. “I figured you could use a few house warming gifts for your new apartment.”

Nate set them aside. “I like your choice of color.”

“There's another bag there that goes along with them,” Megan added.

Janet watched her son peer over the side of his chair and pick it up. Fifteen minutes later, he had a pile of towels, potholders, tablecloths, bedding and blankets by his side. Up until now, his leaving had been a distant thing, something airy, but watching him gather item after item had suddenly given substance to it and it hammered home in her heart. It was just too soon, but more than that, she couldn't bear the thought of ill feelings harbored between them. Somehow, someway, she had to reach him, but she didn't know how.

She eyed the final unopened gift at his feet. Her gift. She'd spent a lot of time on it last year, making it special, meaningful, something to transcend the chasm between them since the war. Originally, it had been intended as a homecoming gift after his first tour, but he'd re-enlisted. Now it sat there waiting to be opened and she had all she could do to breathe.

Nate set the last gift he'd opened–a set of silverware–with the others, and turned her way. For a second, she thought she heard an anxious tone in his voice. “You're behind,” he said nodding toward the three unopened gifts in her pile.

“You want me to open yours now,” she said as Sandra suddenly cried out. The woman was waving a travel brochure for Tahiti over her head, then turned and threw her arms around her husband. Shouts erupted all around about how jealous they were of her gift.

But Janet was watching Nate as he casually observed the mounting excitement. It seemed as if he was in his own world, watching things from afar. As if he'd been evicted from his own life. Every bone in her body ached for him and she desperately wanted to reach out, to fix him, to make him whole and happy again. At last, he turned to her. As everyone prattled and ooh'd and ahh'd around them playing show and tell, their gazes connected. She mouthed the words, 'I love you.'

When he shrugged, she bent over and found a tall, thin box wrapped in silver paper. On top was a royal blue bow. A card was attached. She picked it off, opened it and read the short verse that said:

Christmas comes but once a year, but your gifts are forever

And while the distance between us oft times may be far,

We're always together,

For now, tomorrow…forever -

It was signed: Merry Christmas, Nate.

She set the card down wanting to believe the words. With renewed hope, she tore away the wrapping from the white glossy box inside. Running her nail under the flap, she opened the box and took out a slender glass bottle with a spritzing dispenser. A caramel colored liquid glistened inside.

Nate said, “It's pure nard. It's very strong, so be careful how much you use.”

She gave the balloon ball on the dispenser tube a squeeze and inhaled the earthy fragrance with a woodsy hint. Wow, I guess so, she thought as the powerful perfume threatened to overwhelm her.

“Pure nard. Isn't that what Mary poured on Jesus' feet?” Megan said, as Janet passed the bottle to her.

“Yes, it is,” Trevor replied. “Back then, it was rare and expensive.”

Janet shuddered. “Oh my God, Nate.”

“You like it?”

“I love it,” She got up. Went over and hugged him. But the embrace she thought she was going to get never came. She pulled back slowly, trying to conceal her disappointment and motioned to her gift for him. “Open it.”

He picked up the package wrapped in gold, slipped the card out that was tucked under the red ribbon out as she looked on. After he read it, he turned his lips up slightly and put it back in the envelope.

“I mean every word,” she said.

But he only nodded as he set the card aside. A minute later he was looking down on a dark blue album with a silver filigree leaf and tendril design around the edges. In the center of the album were the embossed words: Your Family Roots.

He picked it up, pulled back the cover as everyone gabbed about their holiday treasures. On the first page, she'd fixed the handwritten letter Neil had sent her when she was pregnant. It expressed how happy she'd made him. On the next page, she'd drawn Nate's paternal family tree, listing his father's parents, grandparents, great grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

As she watched her son leaf through the pages, studying the faces of his ancestors, the works of his father and those of his grandfather, the holiday music and ongoing conversations faded to nothing. Suddenly, it was just her and Nate as he perused post cards from England, Holland and Scotland signed by people he didn't know. But what caught his eye the most were the letters his father penned to her.

Last of all was the photo Neil had torn from a family album and clutched savagely to his breast just before the monster stole the last of his memory. Beside it, was the letter she'd written to him from her hotel room in San Francisco after she'd accepted her Ansel Adams Award. She didn't need to see what was written. She knew it by heart and she mouthed the words to herself as Nate read it.

You sleep five hundred miles away, yet I can almost feel you here beside me. I wonder if you know I'm gone or if you miss me? Sometimes I think you're evaporating right in front of my eyes.

I remember the night we met. You came along in that big old truck of yours and pulled me out of the snow bank. Who would've thought we'd ever meet again, let alone get married? We put up with a lot from each other, didn't we, husband?

Do you know I can still see you wading into the surf the day I first took you to my beach? It's like yesterday–you rolling up your pant legs and splashing in the water.

I'll always love you, and I'll keep telling you that so you won't forget. I'll tell you about our wedding on the beach and how you kissed me when you found out I was pregnant. You'll know how you looked at Nate when you held him right after he was born.

And I will tell you about the house you built for me, the excitement in your eyes as you planned every detail, right down to finding a place for Barney to rest.

These are the things I'll tell you every day so you won't forget. Ever!

At length he closed the book and looked up. He didn't need to say anything. His moist eyes and trembling lips told all.