An Island Christmas

by Nancy Thayer

  Jilly came to the doorway. She looked calmer now.

  “Is anyone hungry?”

  The family made their way into the dining room where the two children immediately got into an argument about who got to sit next to Grandma Jelly. Finally the table was rearranged so that Jilly sat between. She seemed happy with this arrangement.

  As they ate rich, cheesy lasagna, tossed green salad, and warm garlic bread, they discussed tomorrow: Christmas Eve day.

  “I’ve made a list,” Jilly told them. “Maybe after dinner and after the children have gone to sleep, we can all sit down and go over the list. Christmas morning will be busy opening presents. Then lunch. The wedding is at three in the afternoon. About twenty people will be coming back to the house for a little party. I’d like to have everything—” She paused.

  “Perfect,” George said with a knowing little snort.

  “No,” said Jilly. “I’m not going to aim for perfection. I’d simply like to have everything in some kind of order. After all, it’s not every day your daughter gets married!”

  17

  The long evening was over. Dinner had been served and eaten. With Lauren’s and Felicia’s help, the dishes had been stacked in the dishwasher and the kitchen cleaned, ready for breakfast tomorrow morning.

  The children, protesting loudly, had been put to bed on air mattresses in Lauren’s old bedroom. The adults had gathered in the living room to go over the to-do list for the next day. Jilly had restrained herself from rehanging every object on the Christmas tree. This was not a tree in a boutique or a museum, she reminded herself, it was the tree for a family, and she was pleased that her grandchildren had helped put it back together. She tried not to mind that the lower ornaments were hung in clumps, leaving some branches completely bare, while the upper branches seem to have been decorated by the color-blind.

  At any rate, she was too exhausted to lift her arm to move one single star. What a day this had been! Felicia was cuddled up next to Archie on the sofa. Pat listened to George recount his wipeout with great detail; he looked content in spite of his wrist in a splint and his crutches. Porter and Lauren had UPSed “Santa” presents to Nantucket last week and they snuck off to the garage where they’d been hidden to take them out of the cardboard and start assembling them. Jilly thought back with affection to those days with young children when the anticipation of Christmas morning brought her and George as much pleasure as seeing the presents they bought their daughters being unwrapped.

  Finally everyone went his or her separate way. Archie borrowed George’s car and drove his mother to the hotel, asking Pat to call him when she wanted to be picked up the next morning. Porter and Lauren went up to bed. Felicia and Archie helped George make his clumsy, bumbling progress up the stairs and into the bedroom with Jilly following behind carrying one of his crutches. Then the almost-newlyweds went to bed in Felicia’s childhood bedroom and Jilly began the arduous process of helping George out of his clothes and into his pajamas. This involved supporting him as he hobbled into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and surveyed his body in the mirror. He greeted every bruise from his wipeout as a badge of honor and continued to point out the bruises until Jilly expressed the proper dismay at their size and color.

  Once George had fallen onto the bed, Jilly propped up his ankle on several pillows. She gave him two Tylenol PM tablets with a glass of water. He was asleep almost at once.

  At last she was able to organize herself for bed. She was exhausted, and also a little maudlin. With George out of commission, no one was around to rub her tired shoulders or compliment her on her dinner, or tell her that in spite of everything, this was a wonderful family holiday. Someday she knew she and George would sit around talking about this crazy day and laughing. Now she lay in bed feeling irritated and unable to sleep. With his foot elevated, the blankets on the bed had all drifted over to George’s side. His snore was like a chain saw. Jilly got up, put her robe back on, and dug an old blanket out of the back of the closet to wrap around herself. She lay back down on her side, feeling oddly lonely even though the house was full. She used to enjoy having a full house. The terrible truth was, she was getting old. She couldn’t do it all the way she used to, or if she could do it all, she couldn’t do it with the same enthusiasm. She had heard that as people grew older they became cranky and she wondered if this was what was happening to her. It made her so sad to think of becoming a cranky old woman.

  A slight shift in the air alerted her to movement. She opened her eyes. Rex had been hiding under the bed, and now in one fluid leap, he jumped up next to her. He sat on the edge of the bed and regarded her for a long time with his gold eyes.

  “Hello, pretty boy,” whispered Jilly. “You have a full bowl of cat food in the kitchen but I’m too tired to carry you down to show it to you. Anyway, I have a pretty good idea you’ll find it in the night. I’m sorry you were so frightened today. Human beings must seem a bit uncivilized to you.”

  Rex began to purr. The gentle, resonant purring soothed Jilly’s edgy nerves. She closed her eyes. After a moment, she felt the cat turn around once or twice. Then he settled right next to her in the curve of her hips. His warmth was as soothing as a hot-water bottle. He continued to purr.

  Jilly slept.

  18

  The morning of Christmas Eve dawned cloudy and cold. Felicia woke early, as always, and tiptoed to the window to look out at the new day. She was surprised to see that while she slept, Mother Nature had blanketed the island with several more inches of pristine white snow. The temperature had fallen even lower—she could tell by the frost lacing the window and by the iciness of the floorboards beneath her feet. Her parents, frugal Yankees that they were, always turned the heat down during the night.

  Hurrying back to bed, she slipped beneath the delicious warmth of the covers. It was only a little before seven, and it sounded as if everyone else in the house was still asleep.

  “Come over here,” Archie mumbled sleepily.

  She didn’t have to be asked twice. The twin bed was scarcely large enough to hold both of them, but that was fine with her. She was very happy to nestle up against her soon-to-be-husband. She lay with her back to him, snuggled close against him, and with a mischievous smile she pressed her frozen feet up against his warm legs.

  “Hey!”

  “Sorry, but my parents haven’t turned the furnace up yet.”

  “A big blizzard swept through last night.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Got up to pee. Heard the wind howling, and took a look out the window. I’m surprised it didn’t wake everyone up. I watched for a long time. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good old New England blizzard.”

  “I like your mother,” Felicia said, “but I don’t think she’s prepared for this weather. We’ll have to buy her a decent coat and some gloves and a hat.”

  Archie groaned. “That means I should get out of bed.”

  Felicia stroked his hand. “Not quite yet. I’d like to talk about something.”

  “I hate when you say that.”

  “Portia and Lawrence are so adorable. They’re funny, and clever, and sweet.”

  Archie didn’t reply.

  Calmly, she continued, “Seeing them makes me rethink this entire zero population growth idea, Archie.”

  Archie said nothing. So it was going to be this kind of discussion, Felicia thought, feeling her blood pressure rise, the kind where she babbled and Archie stonewalled her with silence. She didn’t want to start this day with bad feelings.

  “Oh, never mind.” She pulled away from him and put her feet on the floor.

  “Why don’t you just marry Steven and have kids with him?” Archie muttered.

  Felicia burst out laughing. “I think I’ll stick with you.” She was still laughing as she showered and dressed. It cheered her immeasurably that Archie could be jealous.

  She went downstairs, leaving Archie in bed, talking to his mother on his cell.

  Felic
ia discovered Jilly wandering around the house in her robe, carrying two large poinsettia plants in her arms.

  “Mom?”

  “Nicole just texted me that poinsettias are poisonous to cats!” Jilly looked down at the flowers in her arms with consternation, as if they might bite her. “I have to remove these from the house, but if I put them outside they’ll immediately freeze and die. I don’t know what to do. Plus, how am I going to decorate the house for Christmas? And the church for your wedding?” Jilly quivered with so much anxiety it seemed she was about to achieve liftoff.

  “Mom, does the cat ever go in the basement?”

  “I don’t know,” Jilly replied helplessly.

  “We can make sure that he doesn’t go down there by shutting and locking the door from the kitchen,” Felicia told her sensibly. “We’ll take the plants down to the basement. We’ll lock the door. Tomorrow we can take the plants to the church. After all, Rex isn’t coming to the wedding.”

  Jilly laughed a rather demented laugh. “Oh, of course he isn’t. Silly me! I think I’ve had too much coffee to drink. There are so many things to do. I haven’t even scrambled the eggs yet.”

  Felicia gently relieved her mother of the two poinsettia plants, led her to the kitchen, and set the plants on the top basement step, shutting and locking the door to the basement.

  Turning to her mother, she asked, “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

  “I don’t think so. I was just drinking my coffee when I got Nicole’s text.”

  “Why don’t you go upstairs and dress?” Felicia suggested. “I’ll scramble the eggs and make toast.”

  “Darling, you’re so kind, thank you so much. I hope you don’t think I’m going senile.”

  “Not at all. You’ve always been this way,” joked Felicia, relieved and delighted to see her mother smile.

  Lauren came into the room, wearing a red cashmere sweater, jeans, and pearls. On her it worked.

  “Don’t bother about scrambling eggs,” Lauren said. “I made my cheesy egg deluxe casserole. We only have to nuke it in the microwave when everyone comes down.”

  Felicia stared at her sister. “What? You got up and cooked in the night?”

  “Of course not, you nut job. I made it at home, brought it here in my insulated food carrier, and stashed it in the refrigerator for today. I knew Mom would have a lot to do and I wanted to stave off the crazies.” Lauren tugged Felicia toward the kitchen. “You can set the table while I put the cinnamon rolls in to warm.”

  “Where are the children?”

  “Porter’s helping them dress for the day. They noticed it snowed more overnight and they can’t wait to run outside.”

  Jilly kissed both daughters’ cheeks. “Such good girls! I’m going to shower and dress, and then I’ll help your father get up.” She sounded calmer.

  “If you need any help lifting Dad, call Porter,” Lauren told her mother. “Dad’s really too heavy for you to try to lift.”

  “Good idea, Lauren. Thanks.” Jilly headed up the stairs.

  Impressed and slightly daunted by her sister’s super-helpfulness, Felicia bit her lip. All the old emotions of being second-best came rolling over her in a wave. Then she heard a metallic scraping sound. Running to the front door, she looked out to see that Archie had dressed and gone outside. He’d found the shovel in the garage. He was shoveling a path to the door.

  “Archie’s shoveling the sidewalk!” Felicia called up to her mother. Take that, she thought smugly, my man is doing some heavy lifting without even being asked.

  19

  Jilly stood beneath the soothing hot shower and repeated to herself quietly: Slow down. Slow down.

  She could force her body to move with less haste. She took her time washing with her favorite perfumed soap and stood for a while enjoying the pounding of hot water between her shoulder blades.

  But her mind raced.

  George and Jilly had spent fifty thousand dollars on Lauren’s wedding. Lauren had had six bridesmaids, a Vera Wang wedding dress that Lauren and Jilly had traveled to New York to find, one hundred guests at a sit-down surf and turf dinner at the yacht club, and a band from Boston. But that wasn’t all. The day after the wedding, which had been in June, half of the guests had remained for a champagne brunch on a boat hired to take them around the harbor.

  Jilly was aware that Felicia thought her parents preferred Lauren. And it was true that Lauren was more like Jilly’s idea of a perfect daughter living a perfect life. Lauren had always been tidy, punctual, sweet, and dainty. Felicia had always had scraped knees, bruised elbows, torn clothes, and hair that in spite of constant brushings stood out all over like a bouquet of cowlicks. Actually, the short hairdo Felicia wore now was very becoming and the best look Jilly had seen on her second daughter.

  Of course Jilly and George loved both daughters equally, if love could be measured in a container on a scale. But the truth was, Jilly didn’t understand her younger daughter. Jilly and Felicia had such different ways of living that Jilly would have thought Felicia was adopted if she hadn’t given birth to the girl herself.

  Still, it was of the utmost importance to Jilly that Felicia didn’t feel she was being slighted on her wedding day. On the other hand, Felicia hadn’t spent a year consulting with Jilly about the wedding. She hadn’t spent even an hour. She’d pretty much dumped the announcement on Jilly as if it were a barely significant matter. She hadn’t given Jilly the opportunity to share the experience of planning the wedding in the same intimate and memorable mother-daughter way Lauren had.

  And imagine having your sister make your wedding dress without even giving your opinion on how it should look! Imagine not caring who attended your wedding and reception afterward! Felicia hadn’t arranged for flowers in the church or at home, or for music at the church, or for a photographer. Jilly could foresee Felicia saying at the last minute, “Hey, Mom, grab my cell phone and snap a shot of me and Archie on our wedding day.”

  Knowing that her second daughter was too busy barreling over life-threatening rapids, Jilly had taken certain matters into her own hands.

  She had ordered masses of red and white roses and red and white carnations interspersed with evergreens in gigantic glass bowls to be set around the house. The church was already decorated for Christmas so she had planned no flowers for the church, but now she would take the two poinsettia plants to set in front of the altar. They would look jolly and the cat wouldn’t be able to reach them. For Felicia, she’d ordered an arrangement of white baby roses attached to Jilly’s mother’s white leather Bible to carry down the aisle. She had boutonnieres ordered for the men, including Lawrence, and a circlet of flowers for Portia who would be carrying a small Nantucket basket of rose petals and scattering them along the aisle. She ordered a white gardenia corsage to wear on her dress because she enjoyed the scent, and if the bride was going to be loosey-goosey, she could at least treat herself to a gardenia. She had ordered a small white silk pillow for Lawrence to carry as the ring bearer. It occurred to her she needed to speak with Archie about this; she could only hope they were going to exchange rings instead of tattoos.

  She’d arranged for music. When she heard that Archie was going to wear his Galloway tartan kilt, she had spent hours searching for someone who could play the bagpipes to pipe the newlyweds out into the world after the ceremony. She hadn’t found anyone, which turned out to be a good thing, because when she told Felicia on the phone she was trying to find a bagpiper, Felicia had cried, “Oh dear Lord in heaven, Mother, get a grip!” So Jilly had asked three talented young women, one who had a portable piano (an electronic portable piano! How fast the world was changing!) to sing at the ceremony. Laura, Susan, and Diane had consulted with Jilly, who suggested Pachelbel’s “Canon” and Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy.” The three women had called Archie and Felicia in Utah because they knew Lauren and Felicia and insisted it was only correct to consult with the bride. So of course everything changed. Jilly had to compromise. The three
women were instructed to play Pachelbel’s “Canon” before the ceremony and Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” after.

  Aerosmith! And the song was from a movie named, of all things, Armageddon. Jilly still couldn’t believe it. Her daughter was going to be married to the music of Armageddon.

  At least she’d been able to arrange the guest list for the reception at the house. There would be the immediate family, of course, and Archie’s mother, Pat. Madeleine Park, who had been the girls’ favorite babysitter, would attend with her husband, Lloyd. Nicole and Sebastian Somerset, who were Jilly’s and George’s ages and their best friends on the island, were attending and so was Father Sloan, the Episcopal priest who would perform the ceremony and who was recently widowed. He would provide a nice male counterpoint to Pat. Finally, even though they were slightly older than Lauren and Felicia, Jilly had invited the three women musicians, Laura, Susan, and Diane, and their husbands. Since Felicia didn’t want any of her old high school friends invited because Archie wasn’t inviting any of his, this made a nice full house with a mixture of ages.

  Jilly was having Greta and Fred White prepare platters of delicacies for the late afternoon party at their home. She’d ordered a wedding cake from Wicked Island Bakery. The cake would be carrot cake covered with white frosting. In a moment of frivolity, Jilly had told Ronna to construct the icing like a slide down the four-layered cake, as if it were going over rapids with the bride and groom seated together at the top, ready for the ride of their lives. Jilly was actually quite proud of this idea.

  Usually the Gordons had Christmas Day dinner in the evening, but because of the wedding, they would be eating catch-as-catch-can for lunch and reception goodies for dinner. December 26, they would sit down to their Christmas meal, and even the newlyweds would stay for that. Today Jilly had to pick up the twenty-pound fresh freerange turkey and a few other fresh items from Annye’s Whole Foods. She had already bought three pounds of chestnuts to roast over the fire after the wedding celebration, but she needed to run by the liquor store for the case of champagne she’d ordered. She’d counted on George picking this up, but now of course with his crutches he was grounded. Jilly didn’t want to impose on Lauren and Porter because she knew they had a few things to get ready for Christmas for their children. Plus, Lauren had already helped so much by bringing down some casseroles for their holiday stay. Because tomorrow was Christmas when all the shops were closed, Jilly had to pick up the flowers and the cake today.