My Christmas Goose Is Almost Cooked

by Eliza Watson

  Feeling like I’d been lying wide awake for hours, I glanced over to check the time on my phone. The empty charger lay on the nightstand. I hauled my butt out of bed and padded across the cold wood floor. After grabbing my cell phone from my purse, I placed a hand against the iron wall register, as cold as the floor. With the high cost of fuel, they must have turned off the heat at night. I slipped back under the green-and-red quilt, into the warm bed. I plugged the phone in, and a text popped up from Declan, received five hours ago while I’d been downing egg nog in the noisy pub. Nobody else had mentioned getting one. Maybe they hadn’t seen theirs either.

  He promised he’d be home tomorrow. He’d driven off to calm down, no destination in mind, and had hit a pothole, blowing a tire and causing a rattling under the hood. Of course, he didn’t tell his whereabouts so someone could drive over and assist him. I wasn’t sure if he was being honest about the flat tire. He’d better be telling the truth about being home tomorrow. I was ticked, yet my heart ached, picturing him lying in bed alone in a hotel room, even though it was his own fault. He was likely still awake. Checking on him might help me sleep. And I didn’t want him to think I’d ignored his text.

  I texted him. How are you?

  My screen went black before a text popped up and a loud shrill filled the air. I turned my phone to vibrate.

  Grand. How was the pub party? Great craic?

  Yep. Met Nicholas Turney. Going to visit him tomorrow.

  Ah, brilliant. He might be a help with your research.

  While I debated how to explain the possible Coffey murder connection in a nutshell, another text popped up.

  Sorry I’m not there. Will rent a car if need. Good night.

  Guess that was the end of our conversation.

  Good night.

  At least he’d apologized. And his comment about renting a car was reassuring. But he should have called, and earlier. I verified that the only missed call I had was from Sadie. I checked her message to learn her cousin didn’t have any further info on Grandma’s husband or the Dalys.

  Another dead end.

  I peered over at Declan’s painting on the white dresser, leaning against the wall. I snuggled under the quilt, imagining that warm sunny day, a light breeze carrying the baaing of sheep through the rural countryside. I pictured Declan painting at an easel, me admiring his artwork while relaxing in a white wicker chair, sipping lemonade. I had on a white floppy-brimmed hat and lace dress, and he wore a flannel cap, white linen shirt, and dark pants, like a scene out of the 1930s, Grandma’s era.

  I turned off the lamp, yet the idyllic, peaceful setting remained in my thoughts as I drifted off to sleep…

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lying in bed the following morning, I had the strange feeling someone was watching me. I cracked an eyelid to find Zoe standing over me in blue flannel jammies, her blond hair pulled up in a crooked ponytail, mascara smudges under her bloodshot eyes. She didn’t look bad for having put away more pints than Carrig, the sheep guy, had.

  “Brilliant, you’re awake.” She plopped down on the bed.

  My stomach tossed from too much egg nog and hard cider. She scooched me over with her butt. I sat up against the padded headboard.

  “Come with me to the Christmas market at the mall. My granny Grady and auntie Fiona are at my uncle’s in Limerick for Christmas. Told them I’d work their booth. I’ll go mad talking to Quigley all morning.”

  “Quigley works the booth with you?”

  “He models the hats and ties.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “Fab. I also need to buy Declan’s gift. We always buy each other some crazy pressie. Even though he doesn’t deserve one for making everyone worry about him.”

  Zoe obviously hadn’t received a text from Declan. I told her about mine, and his excuse.

  She rolled her eyes. “Feckin’ liar. Flat tire my arse.”

  That had been my reaction.

  “I’ll tell Mum. She tries to act like she’s not worrying, but she is.” She let out a frustrated growl. “Did you tell him that he better be home in time for you to open his pressie?”

  “Declan bought me a gift?”

  “It’s under the tree.”

  I couldn’t believe Declan had bought me something more than the four backpacks. I shouldn’t have given his parents the whiskey gift basket. Yes, I should have, after they invited me into their home and I’d caused so much drama. Besides, Declan spent a lot of time and thought putting together those backpacks. I had to get him something with meaning, despite how upset I was with him. It might help soften the blow when he saw a photo hanging where his engagement pic once had.

  “Since you’re leaving tomorrow, we want you to open our gifts tonight.”

  Our gifts? I didn’t have a gift for anyone.

  “We’ll have another gift opening when Aidan is home Christmas Eve. Too bad he won’t be here for you to meet.”

  “Bloody hell!” Jane yelled out downstairs.

  Zoe and I raced down to see what was the matter. Just like in ’Twas the Night before Christmas, minus all of Jane’s cussing. She was glaring out the living room window, mouth gaping. Decorations had been blown across the yard, and one of the wire sheep was inappropriately straddling another.

  Zoe laughed. “Lucky there aren’t lambs running around the yard.”

  Jane gave her a stern look. “It isn’t funny. The wind couldn’t have done such a thing. Someone had too many pints at the pub last night.”

  Carrig and his buddies?

  “Fair play to the bloke when being so knackered. And no worries. If there were lambs, Caity could herd them for you. She’s a sheep whisperer, ya know.”

  Jane was too busy wiggin’ out to question my telepathic ability to communicate with sheep. “The bloody wind is ruining my decorations.”

  “We can drive past Tara Gavigan’s,” Zoe said. “I’m sure her decorations are a wreck.”

  Jane’s frown slowly curled into a devious smile, resembling the Grinch’s.

  “We’ll nail the yokes to the ground if we have to.” Zoe stuffed her blue-socked feet into a pair of yellow-flowered wellies and slipped a purple jacket on over her jammies. She handed me the yellow wellies with an orange beak and googly eyes.

  “Are these ducks or geese?” I asked.

  Zoe shrugged. “Ducks, I would think.”

  I slipped on the boots and my green coat. I headed outside in my jammies. It’d been years since I’d even run out to the mailbox in my pj’s. However, my green Coffey T-shirt and green-and-red plaid leggings looked more like workout clothes than pj’s.

  Jane marched over to the mating sheep. She tugged on the top one, but the practical joker had bent its back legs to hold it in place. Between the three of us, we finally separated the sheep. The Grinch’s sleigh had blown over, poor Max crushed and deflated beneath it. The wreath from the front door had apparently whizzed across the drive like a Frisbee and landed on Zoe’s car hood.

  Zoe let out a squeal. “Where’s my reindeer nose?” Unconcerned about any scratches from the wreath, she dropped to the ground and searched under the car for the nose.

  Jane threw her arms up in frustration. “The entire lot is a bloody mess. I’m not about to haul everything over to Uncle Martin’s barn to store. The winds will die down. We’ll bring them inside for now.”

  “The house?” Zoe asked, popping up from the drive with the red reindeer nose.

  “Back in the day, families shared their homes with their livestock. At least these sheep can’t shite on the floor.”

  Had Grandma shared her tiny three-room cottage with cows and sheep besides six family members?

  By the time we’d hauled all the lawn decorations inside, I was blown to bits and fuming that Declan wasn’t here helping. At work, his dad had a valid excuse. The six wire sheep barely fit in my room. I nearly had one for a sleeping companion but stuck my suitcase under the bed to make space for it in a corner. I squeezed my way out of the roo
m, encountering Zoe at the top of the stairs, struggling to hold on to the blow-up Grinch.

  “I know right where this is going.” She wore a sly grin. “Declan’s room.”

  I laughed. Appropriate. However, Declan probably wouldn’t find it as funny as Zoe and I did.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  “I’m grand.” She nodded toward the sheep poking its head from my room. “Put that yoke in his room so you can close your door.”

  I lugged the sheep down the hallway, my heart racing at the thought of what I might find in Declan’s room. Hurling awards, whiskey bottle collection, posters of his favorite bands…

  Who were his favorite bands?

  Zoe opened the door, and we entered. A pink lace duvet lay in a pile at the foot of the bed. The pink sheets thrown back, the shape of Declan’s body was molded into the mattress. My breathing quickened at the thought of him lying there naked or merely in a pair of briefs… Did he wear briefs or boxers?

  “You can set that down,” Zoe said.

  I was still hugging the sheep. I placed it next to the Grinch on the pink rug covering the wood floor, next to a pink velvet chair.

  “Did he decorate the room himself?” I asked, disappointed that frilly furnishings had replaced Declan’s belongings.

  Zoe laughed. “Mum made it into a guest room when he moved out. He still has some clothes and stuff in the closet.” She slid her gaze toward the closet door. “He bought a wooden picture frame for Shauna with their wedding date on it. It’s still wrapped at the back of the top shelf.”

  My gaze narrowed on the closet door.

  “After it sat there for a year, I was dying to know what it was, so I opened it. I know that was a ghastly thing to do, but I couldn’t help myself. Wished I hadn’t. I sat on his bed and bawled. I wrapped it back up so he’d never know.”

  Was the gift another sign Declan wasn’t healing or that he had a crappy memory and had forgotten about it?

  “Don’t tell him. I’ve never told anyone this. You probably think I’m awful.”

  I shook my head. I loved that Zoe was sharing a secret she hadn’t even told her best friend. I missed the gossip and camaraderie with girlfriends. I hoped Zoe followed through on her promise to visit and that we stayed in touch via Facebook and e-mail. It sucked that she lived four thousand miles away. Although, I now had enough frequent flyer miles for a one-way ticket to Dublin. A few more international meetings and I’d have enough for a round trip.

  “She was the only steady girlfriend he ever had. They started dating when he was seventeen. Before that, Mum was sure he was gay. Especially after the whole Barbie doll thing. Which of course she’d have been fine with, but can you imagine Declan gay? How mad is that?”

  Quite mad. Our “relationship” was only Declan’s second one. He and Shauna had been together nine years. That was a huge chunk of Declan’s life I might never know anything about.

  Was I okay with that?

  * * *

  “You’re fired. You’re seriously the worst model ever.” Zoe flicked a fingertip against the top of Quigley’s knit Santa stocking cap.

  The animal’s whiskers twitched, yet his eyes remained closed, his head resting on a stack of caps on the table.

  “Sorry,” Zoe told the woman browsing the inventory with her daughters. “He doesn’t perform on demand.”

  I’d never seen Quigley perform, period.

  The woman gave Zoe a sympathetic smile. “We have three at home. We’ll take one for each.” Her two little girls selected Christmas presents for their family pets. The woman promised to hand out Zoe’s business cards at her next book club meeting.

  Zoe and I were one of several dozen vendors displaying Christmas gifts, treats, and decorations outside familiar mall stores such as Penneys and TK Maxx—the equivalent of TJ Maxx back home. A train chugged around a Christmas tree inside a store window, and the mannequins in a trendy clothing shop wore glittery gold and silver party dresses.

  “Besides the Christmas pudding for us, I bought this for Declan when I ran to the loo.” Zoe snagged a paper bag from under the table and slipped out a flask with a deranged-looking sheep dressed as an elf that read Eweltide Cheer. “Think he’ll like it?”

  I nodded. “If he can drink whiskey from it, he’ll like it.”

  “The sheep looks quite mad. Would go well with my mum’s nutcrackers. It’s perfect. The year Kate and William got married, Declan gave me wine stoppers. One with William dressed in his red Irish Guards uniform, and Kate in her lovely lace wedding dress. I absolutely adore William and Kate.”

  “Me too. I have like every magazine about their wedding. And I got up insanely early to watch it.” I eyed the table across from us selling customized ornaments. “My mom and sister would love an ornament painted with our Coffey name and Killybog.”

  At least, I hoped Mom would love one. It suddenly dawned on me I hadn’t heard from either my sister or Mom in almost twenty-four hours. No text, e-mail, or call checking up on me. Strange. Was Mom upset and had me on Ignore status?

  “I need to give my mom a quick call.”

  I stepped away and phoned her, acting nonchalant, not like I was now checking up on her.

  “Sorry I haven’t called,” she said in a rushed tone. “Just a lot going on here. Pulling molasses cookies out of the oven right now. Rachel ran to the store for a few things I forgot to pick up, including beer. Your father is cranky as hell. If he hadn’t polished off that bag of beer cheese curds, it could have held him over. He shouldn’t be drinking anyway with all of his pain meds. How’s it going there?”

  “Ah, it’s going well. At a Christmas market right now with my friend Zoe.”

  “Oh, how nice you have a friend there. Did you remember your father’s beer?” she yelled out to Rachel. She heaved an exasperated sigh. “That’s right. You can’t buy alcohol until after eight, and it’s only seven. They need to change that law for the holidays. What happened to Milwaukee being the beer city, for God’s sake?”

  I wasn’t sure if she was still talking to Rachel. “Uh, Mom?”

  “Sorry, dear. Could I call you back later?”

  “Sure, but don’t worry if you don’t have time. I was just checking in.”

  “Okay. Thanks. Love you.” Click.

  I was relieved Mom didn’t have time to worry about me, yet it felt strange.

  The vendor promised to have my ornaments ready before we closed our booth early afternoon. While placing the order for Mom’s and Rachel’s ornaments, the perfect one for Declan popped into my head. Sentimental yet funny.

  I joined Zoe and Quigley back at the table.

  “Your mum grand?” Zoe asked.

  I nodded faintly. “Yeah, she sounded fine, considering everything going on.” I filled Zoe in on the craziness at home. “Guess she doesn’t have time to worry about me. Which is great, just weird.”

  “Brilliant. Now she knows you can survive on your own.” She placed Declan’s gift back under the table. “If he isn’t home today, he’s not getting it. Such a wanker, making everyone worry. Love him loads, but he’s always been a bit selfish.”

  “I’ve never seen this side of him before.”

  I told Zoe about his acts of kindness with the backpack presents, always tipping the hotel maids to leave extra toiletries for Martha’s women’s shelter, and constantly coming to my rescue.

  “Wow. That was an awfully nice pressie.”

  “He was doing it for the women, not just me.”

  Zoe wore a skeptical look. “He’s donated a few quid to whatever charity the pub’s promoting, but nothing like those backpacks. And he helped you give them away. I’ve never known Declan to get directly involved in a cause before. I think you’re good for him. He forgot my birthday last year, but this year I got a card and a call. And he rang me again a few weeks later.” Her smile faded. “He seemed to be better, but after yesterday, I’m not so sure.”

  “Declan and I kissed,” I blurted out, wanting to g
ive Zoe hope that Declan was healing. And I’d been dying to confide in someone about the kiss.

  Zoe let out a squeal of excitement. “I knew it. Tell me all about it.”

  I took an encouraging breath. “It was at the Musée d’Orsay in Paris.” A rush of heat warmed my neck and cheeks as I recalled, and fantasized about, Declan’s lips touching mine, his arms around my waist, my hands running through his hair…

  “At an art museum in Paris? How utterly romantic is that?”

  “Until we got kicked out.”

  “Don’t people make out in public all the time in Paris?”

  I shrugged.

  “Getting kicked out makes it seem so…forbidden. Like a romantic liaison…” Zoe swooned. “Even if it was with my brother. So how’d it happen?”

  I recounted the story I’d told Jane, about how Declan had confessed avoiding his emotions after Shauna’s death.

  Declan’s voice shouted at the back of my head. Feckin’ A, Caity. What the bloody hell are you doing telling my family ’bout us!

  Panicked, I said, “I’m not the only girl he’s kissed since Shauna.” And we hadn’t kissed since Dublin.

  “You’re the only one he’s cared about.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Number one, he could never care about that wicked Gretchen stalker on Facebook. Number two, I can tell by the way he sometimes acts nervous around you. Like he cares what you think, when Declan has never given a shite what people think and has always done as he pleases.”

  “If he cares what I think, then why has he been MIA for the past day?”

  “He’s embarrassed about acting like an idiot and doesn’t want to face you now.”

  “I don’t think Declan being gone is about me.” However, it was thanks to me. “When he does come home, you can’t tell him, or anyone, that I told you about us kissing.”

  Zoe zipped her pinched fingers across her lips.

  I wasn’t sure I could trust her to keep the secret. Not that she’d intentionally blab, but I hadn’t blabbed on purpose to Rachel either. It still felt good to tell someone. Besides, if Declan hadn’t run off, I wouldn’t be sharing all of our secrets. If he wasn’t going to open up, I’d open up for him. And for me. I didn’t want to keep everything inside again like I had after Andy. Like Declan’s mom said, the longer you kept from saying something, the harder it was to say.