Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  “Hey, Butch! What’s going on?”

  “Oh, I was out trying to make a few last-minute bucks, packing firewood or whatnot, so I could get Grandpa a gift for Christmas. I’m on my way out there to Pete’s for the big dinner now,” he said, patting his weather protection. “It’s a little brisk, but I like being able to go where I want on my own two wheels. Hey, do you think you could let me have that cordless chainsaw on a payment plan? I’d like to take it with me now.”

  “You haven’t bought him a gift yet?” the clerk asked, forehead furrowed and lips pursed, ready to scold him, but holding off because someone else was in the store.

  “Excuse me,” Quinn said. “By any chance, is this the same Pete where Van lives?”

  “Oh, yeah,” the clerk said, smiling at the good fortune and shutting the drawer, giving up on his search for the map.

  Butch agreed, “Sure is.”

  “Grab your grandpa’s gift and let’s going,” Quinn said, pulling an envelope out of his down-filled jacket. You’re my navigator. We’re going to Pete’s.” He handed the clerk five one-hundred-dollar bills. “Is this enough?”

  “Sure is. I’ll just keep the balance here on account,” he said, then looked at Butch. “On account you don’t know how to handle money worth a darn. You’d have this eaten up in burgers and fries by the end of the year if you had your way.”

  The boy shrugged and grinned with sheepish guilt. “Watch my bike for me, will you, Les?” Butch asked, taking the lanyard with the ignition key from around his neck.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll lock it up in back. Be careful out there. It might not be in the forecast, but my rheumatism says there’s a big storm on the way.”

  “Don’t worry,” Quinn said. “I made sure the rental had four-wheel-drive and the biggest emergency kit available.”

  “Hey! What’s your name?” Les asked, suddenly panicked that his friend’s grandson was taking off with a stranger.

  “Quinn,” he said. “Here, you might want to have this,” handing him a business card. “Please, don’t let Pete or Grandpa or anyone else know we’re on the way. Van’s father wants it to be a surprise.”

  “Well, okay. But I’m calling out there in three hours. It should take you less than two to get there, barring any weather or road problems. And just so you know, I have security cameras and know what you look like. And besides, his grandpa’s the sheriff. You don’t want to mess with O’Reilly, even on a day when he’s in a good mood!”

  “Not a problem,” Quinn said. “I’ll tell him you were looking out for him.”

  Les straightened up the counter and went for the broom after the two had left. “Shit!” he said. He looked out and saw taillights leaving. “Pete doesn’t have a phone! I can’t call him. What have I done?”

  ***

  “Butch, as I said, I’m Quinn. I’m assisting my friend Charles in finding his son, Van.”

  “Van has a dad? I thought he only had two moms.”

  Before Quinn could reply, Charles moaned in his sleep. Quinn had set up an impromptu bed with oversized pillows, plush blankets, and sleeping bags, making him as comfortable as he could with items taken from the personal jet and bought at the sporting goods store.

  “Can we wait for questions or comments later. Charles is in poor health. This trip has been rough on him. I’d like him to get some sleep on the way there. Just tell me directions. I’m sure all will be revealed when we get there.” Or not. Let’s hope for not revealed. This is going to be hard to keep out of the papers and off Zelda’s radar.

  Chapter 6: Up on the Rooftop

  Christmas Eve

  Pete’s Place

  “It’s getting warmer, not colder,” Jesse said, looking up at the clear sky. “It’s going to snow.”

  “Pbbt! There wasn’t anything in the paper today about snow,” Pete said, rocking in his old reliable porch chair.

  “Yeah, well maybe not, but you don’t get the paper until it’s a day old. I’ve been living rough long enough to know when a storm front’s coming in.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then we’ll have to bring out the air mattresses and quilts and have a giant slumber party, because I’m not telling anyone what you said. This is the first decent Christmas Eve I’ve had in twenty years. I’m not gonna let some white fluffy stuff — or the chance of it — ruin the first Christmas party I’ve ever had in this house. The ham’s in the oven, yeast rolls are rising, and all the bookcases are topped with casseroles waiting their turn in the oven or pies cooling off. I’ve never smelled anything so delicious in my life.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Sounds good to me. I bought myself a new sleeping bag and brought it with me, just in case. It’s a double-sized one.”

  “Does Rosa know you’ll be sharing with someone?” Pete joked.

  Jesse slapped him on the shoulder. “Are you kidding? She’s the one who picked it out!”

  ***

  “Van,” Lucy said softly, sneaking up behind him and giving him a kiss on the neck under his ear, his sensitive spot.

  “You know what that does to me,” he murmured, turning to face her. “You have my complete attention. What can I do for you?”

  “You are so accommodating,” she giggled, then quickly and discretely kissed him on the mouth. “Come with me to my room for a minute. I have an early Christmas gift for you.”

  “Here? Now? With so many people in the house?”

  “No, not that silly. Still, it would be nice…” Lucy sighed, trying not to get distracted. “Humor me, all right?”

  “Yes, Dear,” he said, and pulled her close, a support for her gait just in case her legs ‘spazzed out’ again.

  Once they were in the room, he sat on her bed and asked, “What’s going on?”

  Lucy reached into the drawer of her nightstand. “Here. Look.”

  Van took the large manila envelope and opened the clasp. “Fancy wrapping paper,” he mocked.

  She slapped him playfully on the shoulder, then sat on the bed next to him. She held her breath, waiting for him to take the papers out, then let it out all at once. “Here,” she said, taking the envelope from him, exasperated at his hesitancy. She reached inside and pulled out the three-sheet packet. “Look! You’re clear. There never have been and never will be any charges against you for shooting Carson. Scratch that. No charges against anyone who may or may not have allegedly shot Carson. No one’s pressing charges, no open case. The only witness was Junior, and he swore out an affidavit that even if he met the man — if it even was a man — face-to-face, he wouldn’t recognize him.”

  “But, what about…”

  “What about what? Carson’s parents could, but didn’t, seek out the shooter. The police department is overloaded with unsolved cases, and the coroner’s report said that even though he died from a gunshot wound, his heart was such a mess between physiological issues and scar tissue that it was a miracle he even lived as long as he did. You don’t have that nasty skeleton in your closet!”

  “But how do you know about all this? I was going to tell you, but couldn’t work up the nerve. This was the nasty in my life that was keeping me from marrying you.”

  “I had a talk with Junior,” Lucy said, snuggling up under Van’s shoulder, “then I spoke with Uncle Pete, and you know what? Everyone dies. Yes, you didn’t have the right to take his life sooner than later. Junior did say it was less than a minute from ‘the incident’ until he was dead. It was an accidental act of mercy on your part. I think I know you well enough now to know you won’t be ‘helping’ anyone else in that direction, right?”

  Tears were streaming down Van’s cheeks. “Right, very right.” He held her close, then kissed her. “This is the best Christmas gift you could have given me.”

  “Yeah, well it gets better,” she said, pulling away. “Van Wagner, you may have been born first, but Junior’s already two ahead of you in the progeny department, so congratulations! You’re going to be a father!”

  The muscles holdin
g up Van’s neck suddenly liquified, and he slumped sideways.

  “Whoa, there, fella,” Lucy said, holding his head close to her bosom. “Take slow, deep breaths. It’s going to be okay. Not that I thought you were going to cancel on marrying me, but now you have two good reasons to make it legal: no skeletons in the closet and impending paternity.”

  Color and strength returned to Van with the deep breathing. “Lucy, you don’t need to be pregnant to marry me. I mean, you don’t need to be pregnant for me to marry you. I mean, I’d want to marry you even if we never could have children. Look at Loretta and Cecelia. Adoption worked great for them. Bio babies aren’t necessary for a great relationship. I don’t even want to go there with how my…”

  “Then don’t,” Lucy said. “Come on. A simple wink will let Junior know that we’ve had the conversation. Oh, and only Cindy and Cecelia know about the pregnancy, and that was out of necessity and confirmation and all that jazz. I’ll let you announce it to the others at dinner.”

  “Hmm. I guess I’ll see if Pete will let me add to his Christmas blessing tonight.”

  “You do that,” Lucy said, squeezing him again. “It’s hard to believe you’re the same man I met less than a year ago, Burt the chimneysweep.”

  “Funny,” he joked, “you’re just as sassy as ever.”

  “Yup, that’s me: your sweet and sassy sweetheart.”

  “And I’m the unforgettable lover you thought you’d never find.”

  “I don’t believe in accidents,” Lucy said, pulling open the bedroom door. “I say, we were meant to be together.”

  “I’ll second that assumption,” Van said, then looked up and paled at the man Pete had just let in. “Quinn?”

  “Hey, Van. How’s it going? You’re looking good,” Quinn said, a mixture of happiness and surprise on his face. “Very good.”

  “Who’s this?” Junior asked, stepping toward the opened front door to see who had stunned his brother.

  Quinn looked from Junior to Van and back again, then fainted.

  Junior reacted quickly and caught him before his head hit the floor.

  Van started laughing and couldn’t stop. Whether it was from nerves at seeing the normally composed Adonis laid out or relief that his whereabouts were finally known, he wasn’t sure. “Come on, big guy,” he said, stooping beside his father’s long-time personal assistant and probable lover. “I didn’t faint the first time I saw him, but I was chemically compromised and pretty much out of it. Lucy, someone; would you get me a cool cloth and a glass of water?”

  “But who? What?” Quinn asked, looking from one to the other while finding his way into a seated position.

  “Zelda’s pretty good at keeping secrets,” Van said.

  “How do you tell each other apart?”

  “Oh, that’s easy,” Junior said. “If he looks like me and isn’t a reflection, then it’s Van.”

  “Or, as I say, I’m the handsome one,” Van quipped.

  “Used to be he was the skinny one,” Junior added. “But then he started hanging around Lucy and filled out just fine.” Junior stood shoulder to shoulder with his brother and nodded at Quinn. He asked softly, “I take it he’s a friendly?”

  “Lord, I hope so,” Van whispered, then spoke up. “You’re not out to kill one or both of us, are you, Quinn?”

  “What? Oh, shoot. No. I made a few calls — or rather one call to Friday — and said there was a new bounty out on you, but only alive, not dead. Your father is waiting in the car. He’s not doing so well, and wanted to see you.”

  Van slumped to the couch and bent forward, words and emotions put on hold. “And Zelda?”

  “Who knows. She has her stable full of studs, eager to be the recipient of her affections and baubles. I did hear from the maid something about Killer Queen being the only one with an axe to grind to worry about.”

  Junior and Van looked at each other and smirked. “No worries about the highway streak,” Van said. “She tried but didn’t get me. Or at least she tried, but I survived.”

  Sheriff O’Reilly and the others had been sitting or standing at different spots in the living room/dining room area, watching the family drama unfold like a dinner theater production in front of them. The sheriff spoke up. “She tried to get me, too,” he said. “But, don’t worry about her. She’s gone. Yeah, Van and I are tougher than we look.”

  “And Junior, too,” Cindy said. “Since he’s Van’s twin, that automatically makes him tough looking, too. Actually, though, I think he’s kinda cute.”

  “They’re both cute,” Cecelia said, coming over to put her arms around both of them. “Now, where is Mr. Van der Cleft? I haven’t seen him since…” She looked from one twin to the other. “Since you two were less than six pounds each.”

  “You? Who are you?” Quinn asked.

  “I’m the midwife who delivered Zelda of these two fine young men. And I had the honor of rearing Junior as my own. Oh, and as of about six months ago, I am also Van’s mother. Officially, well, maybe not, but we claim each other.”

  “Morally and emotionally, she definitely is,” Van said. “Just to be clear, no animosity toward my father, but I have chosen my family. If it helps him heal, yes, I’ll see him. But no, I don’t want any part of the family business or the money. And I certainly don’t want anything to do with Zelda! She’s the one who put a contract out on me and Junior.”

  “What? It was Zelda who put out the contract to murder you? And she knows about Junior?” Quinn asked, then shook his head in confusion. “Of course, she knows about him. She was there when he was born. She was awake at the time, right?”

  “Oh, very much awake,” Cecelia said. “She…

  Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

  Junior went to the door to help whoever was trying to get in.

  “Hey,” Butch said, his shoulder under the tall, gaunt and ashen man. “Can someone help me get him to a chair. He wouldn’t wait in the car any longer. I tried to stop him, but he’s one stubborn man.”

  “Not stubborn,” Charles hissed into his chest, then picked up his head and said resolutely. “Determined.” He saw the familiar face and reached out to Junior. “Van!”

  “Um…” Junior said, then took over supporting the frail man from Butch. “Hello?”

  “What? Are you all right?” Charles shook his head in confusion. “You look like Van, but you’re not Van, are you?” He didn’t wait for an answer before calling for help, “Quinn?”

  Quinn rushed over and took Charles from Junior. “Let’s sit down. Here’s a nice recliner.”

  “That’s my recliner,” Pete whispered, then Loretta elbowed him in the ribs. “Help yourself,” he said louder. “Care for a drink? We have cider, coffee, eggnog, and a little wine around here somewhere.

  “Can I have a soda?” Butch asked, then saw his grandfather the sheriff scowl. “Water would be fine for me,” the teen amended.

  Charles looked from one twin to the other. “Two?”

  “Yeah,” Quinn said caustically, “I guess there’s a lot more that Zelda’s been hiding from you. Evidently she put out a contract on Van. Greedy bitch,” he added under his breath.

  Charles could tell by the looks on their faces — one embarrassed and ashamed; the other oblivious and confused — which was the son he had intentionally ignored since the moment he was born. “I’m so sorry, Van. Can you ever forgive me for not being there for you?”

  A menu of emotions transitioned across Van’s face as he recalled all the situations he had endured as a child and teen: all the scores of fixes he had employed to compensate for the lack of love from both parents, then all the horrible deeds he’d done to lash out at the world he felt had wronged him. If he could be forgiven for even one of them by forgiving his father for the one pain that hurt the most — neglect — then he would.

  And then it hit him. He had just been forgiven. Less than ten minutes ago, he had been exonerated of murder. Freed from that prosecution not just by the overburdened police
department, but by the parents and godparent of the young man he had shot; by the brother who had seen him do it and not sought vengeance. A year ago, he had also been pardoned by his brother’s wife, Cindy, an innocent he had raped before she knew either brother. The disgust of that nasty deed done just to get money for drugs soured in his throat. A murder and a rape: just two of the many evils he had done, and those only pertained to two people in the room. There were scores, hundreds, more of them. It would take years of his life to track down everyone he had wronged and apologize, but he could start right now, here. By giving his father the same compassion he sought from others, he would be helping both of them heal.

  “Okay,” Van said, rising to stand on the other side of Quinn. “I forgive you. I have to ask, though; you’re not having any more children, are you?”

  Quinn froze and Charles looked around like he had missed something. “No. Do you know something I don’t?”

  “No,” Van said, and bent down to shake the man’s hand. “Just wanted to make sure.”

  Junior coughed, trying to get Van’s attention. Van looked his way and saw Junior cut his eyes over to Missy Lou, sitting on her mother’s lap. Cindy grinned, seeing the intent.

  “Oh, and by the way,” Van said, adding a wink up at Quinn. “You’re a grandpa. I know, it’s a lot to take in, finding out you have another son, all of the sudden. But that son is married and has a wife…and they have a daughter.”

  Cindy had risen at the introduction and was squatted in front of Charles by the end of the declaration. “Say hi to your Grandpa, Missy Lou.”

  “And watch her grasp!” Junior warned. “She’s got the fastest hands in the west.”

  Everyone in the room watched as Cindy gently set her daughter on Charles’s knee. “Say, Grandpa,” she encouraged.

  The room was silent, waiting for her first greeting.

  Thud, thud, thud….

  Even the baby looked up and followed the sound of footfalls on the roof.