Her Holiday Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  He left them to sort through the emotion of the moment. Charlie’s acceptance and Jenny’s awareness.

  His heart crushed at the thought of losing his father, a town patriarch, the man whose kindly example and strong stance said so much. A man of faith and vigor, who knew how to apply both to life. But it was also strengthened by that example, the pledge of a man who saw a job and completed it to the best of his ability. Always.

  And that was a quality Charlie Campbell passed on to Max.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Jenny handed Max a steaming mug of coffee. “Before you say anything or offer an argument, I’m working at the store today,” she announced in her “don’t argue with me” signature voice. “Jack and Kim are bringing the boys down from Buffalo. They’re going to cut a Christmas tree at Wojzaks Farm, then hang out with Dad. You’re going to be tied up stringing lights in the park all day, so I’m working with Tina and Earl.”

  “Perfect.”

  She stared at him, then laid a cool hand against Max’s forehead. “No fever.”

  “Nope.”

  “Headache?”

  He smiled, remembering her old game. “No, I’m fine. Just ready to let you live your life the way you should. I probably should have realized that as soon as I got back home.”

  She accepted that, hugged him and ruffled his hair. “I figured you’d catch on sooner or later. And if Dad shows up at the park to help...”

  “Close my mouth and let him.”

  “Bingo. You’re a quick study, Max Campbell.”

  “After a while, things start to sink in. Seth and Luke are helping in the park. We’ve also got a bunch of guys on the committee and two from the Highway Department.”

  “Ron Palmeteer approved that?”

  “They took vacation days so they didn’t need to get approval,” Max told her. “Just a group of guys wanting to get something done. We’re meeting at nine.”

  “And I’m ordering Chinese for supper tonight, enough for everyone, so we’ll have a big old Campbell supper.”

  She was turned toward the sink so Max couldn’t see his mother’s face, but her voice hitched on the last word. He knew that choked sound meant tears.

  Max didn’t want to look, because as strong as his father was, Jenny Campbell was the driving force behind this family. And in all the years he’d known and loved her, she’d never fallen apart. Oh, she’d cried now and then, mostly when she was spittin’ mad or watching some sappy movie she’d seen half a dozen times before, but she rarely caved.

  The crack in her voice said she was caving now. Max stepped up behind her. Stubborn, reminding him of another woman he knew, she kept her chin down, as if buttering a bagel had taken on momentous importance.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey.”

  The shoulders shook.

  Max turned her around and drew her into his arms, a role reversal that felt wrong and right all at once. “Hey, it’s okay.”

  “None of it’s okay,” she whispered, and the harshness of her tone surprised him. “He’s insisting on coming into town for the lighting ceremony on Wednesday. The doctors said no crowds, don’t risk infection, and he’s willing to ignore all that, the stubborn old coot.” She sniffled. He glanced around hunting for tissues, saw none and grabbed a paper towel for her. She blotted her face and waved the toweling around. “I know why he’s doing it. I know he’s facing choices, choices I have to let him make, but I feel so helpless. I question everything I do. Part of me wants to break down, the other part wants to beat up on someone, and I can’t fall apart because he needs me to be strong and stoic.”

  “You’re the definition of strong, Mom.” Max hugged her tighter. “But it’s okay to want to beat on something now and again. With a houseful of boys, I think it’s a family tradition, right up there with mistletoe and eggnog from McKinney’s Dairy store.”

  “Oh, Max.” She hugged him, blotted her eyes and blew her nose, then scowled. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped on you, it’s just the thought of trying to act normal when nothing’s normal...”

  “Death is as normal as birth,” Max reminded her. “Just not as celebrated.”

  She looked up at him, considering his words, then patted his cheek. “You’ve done all right, Maxwell.”

  “I had help.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek, wishing he could make this better, knowing he couldn’t. And on that note— “Mom, you know I’m not really out of the army until the first of January, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And there’s always the possibility they may call me if necessary.”

  “They need you, Max?”

  “Not at the moment,” he hedged. “But they warned me they might.”

  She moved closer and studied him. “Are you sure about leaving the army? Are you doing this because of our situation here, or because you’re ready to move on?”

  “Both. So the timing is perfect. But I can’t turn my back on a command if it comes.”

  “So if you disappear in the dark of night...”

  “Know that I’ll wrap it up and get back here as quick as I can,” he promised. “Because this is where I want to be.”

  She reached out and hugged him, hugged him hard. “I love you, Max. I’ve loved you since that day we picked you up at Social Services and brought you home.”

  “You gave me cinnamon rolls and hot chocolate and let me try eggnog that first Christmas, and it’s been a love affair ever since.” He hugged her back. “Thank you for coming for me that day. For saying yes when that phone call came saying they had a little boy waiting.”

  “Timing,” she assured him with a smile. “Luke had just moved into his own room and having a noisy little brother to pester him helped to keep him humble. It was the least I could do. Do you want a bagel before you take off?”

  He shook his head as he grabbed his to-go cup of coffee. “I’ll catch food later. We’re supposed to get rain tonight, so if we nail this park setup today, I can relax with Dad a little. That ranks higher than stringing lights in trees.”

  “I’ll see you tonight. I love you, Max.”

  He smiled from the door. “Feeling’s mutual.”

  * * *

  Tina parked her car just south of where the light crew was working, opened her back hatch, stuck two fingers into her mouth and gave a sharp whistle. Seth Campbell turned first. “You’ve done that ever since you were a kid.”

  She laughed as she withdrew a large drink tray filled with steaming coffees and hot chocolate. “Warm drinks, guys. Break time.”

  She didn’t have to tell them twice. And when she pulled out a box filled with sandwiches, chips and a box of her fresh-baked cookies, the words of approval made the expense and time worthwhile.

  “Tina, you rock.”

  “I owe you, Martinelli.”

  “You want flowers this spring, I will come and plant you a garden, Miss Tina!” Bert Conroy held up his ham-and-swiss on grilled rye and grinned. “This is one happy landscaper right now.”

  Tina glanced around and tried to not look like she was hunting for Max, but Luke laughed at her. “Max had to run to Dad’s store for a few things. Or to check out the pretty girl working there. You must have just missed him.”

  She almost pouted, and if there was one thing Tina Marie Martinelli never did, it was pout. But knowing she’d missed Max by a hair while she was ordering sandwiches at the deli made her almost succumb.

  A car engine cruised up the road behind them, and when Tina turned, Max was pulling into the parking space south of hers. His grin?

  Wonderful.

  The look in his eyes that said he was happy, surprised and quite possibly downright delighted to see her?

  Better yet.

  Their eyes met. Locked. And staye
d locked.

  “Aw, look how cute they are.” Luke made a gagging noise. Total guy.

  “Hey, it wasn’t that long ago that you were doing the same thing,” said Seth, “so I’d zip it if I was you.”

  “Look who’s talking,” countered Luke.

  “Except I’m not the one teasing a guy who’s packing heat and highly skilled in combat maneuvers,” Seth shot back. “Which makes me the smart one. Or should I say still the smart one. Not like that’s a big surprise.”

  The guys laughed, and when Max walked over and grabbed Tina in a big hug, they hooted approval.

  “Max.”

  “My way of saying thank-you for the sandwiches,” he told her as he reached into the box. “I’m excited to see food. And you.”

  “You said food first. I could take offense.”

  He waved his wrapped sandwich toward the gathered men. “Audience intimidation. The pretty girl is always first.”

  “Any pretty girl?” she asked out loud.

  This time he stopped, faced her and smiled. “Nope. Just one.”

  She blushed as the guys groaned, then she smiled up at him, reading the emotion behind his fun words, seeing the warmth and camaraderie. He grabbed a coffee eagerly, added cream and sugar, and snugged the lid down before sipping it. “Perfect. And I knew you were doing this because my mother ratted you out. She thought it was funny and not exactly a surprise that you came here midday, while, in her words—” he stressed the pronoun for emphasis “—I was making an excuse to stop by the hardware store and see you.”

  “Great minds think alike.” Looking up, she found herself lost in the depths of his dark brown eyes, the didn’t-bother-shaving-to-work-in-the-woods-rough chin and the hint of curl returning around his neckline.

  “They do.” He chucked her on the arm, noted the time and wolfed his sandwich in record time. “Channel Seven says the rain’s moving in by four, and I want all systems checked and ready to roll before then. And—”

  A noise interrupted him.

  His attention shifted to the southern end of the park road. He turned, caught Seth’s eye and called Luke’s name softly. His brothers followed the direction of his gaze and watched as Charlie and their oldest brother, Jack, pulled up in Jack’s SUV. Dressed in outdoor work attire, the two Campbell additions came ready to help.

  Mixed emotions ruled the moment, until Seth tossed his coffee cup into the trash bag Tina brought, strode forward and gripped his father’s hand in a firm show of support. “Now we’ll get something done!”

  Charlie grinned.

  Jack’s face said he was just doing what he was told, and Luke and Max moved forward in welcome.

  Tina shifted her attention to the other workers.

  Their expressions told a story of empathy and understanding, but not one of those burly guys made a big deal about having Charlie on-site. No, sir, they shouted out welcomes as if it was any old day, asked advice and then got back to the business of decorating a town park.

  An artist might have been able to capture the rare combination of broad emotions of those precious moments, but Tina was no artist, so she pulled out her cell phone to record the moment. The Campbells, making the best of a rough situation, like always.

  “Hey, you’re not dressed for this damp chill.” Max motioned her toward the car. “And if my father catches you sloughing off on company payroll, he’s liable to get upset.”

  Charlie laughed and moved down the road at a steady pace. “Let’s see what you’ve got here. If we can get this hodgepodge of lights looking like something decent before the end of the day, I’ll sleep well tonight.”

  “Me, too.” Max waved to her but stayed by his father’s side, attentive to Charlie’s advice. Tina raised her phone and snapped a series of pictures, the Campbell boys walking with their dad, all eyes turned on him, soaking up his wisdom.

  It would be a day to remember. A day to cherish, and her pictures would help re-create the memory.

  She climbed into the car, turned it around and headed to the village below. The town’s efforts might not have the grandeur a professional lighting crew would have supplied, but little kids wouldn’t notice any of that. All they’d see were lights, bright lights, twinkle lights, chaser lights. And they’d be happy.

  With Thanksgiving three days away, and the circle of lights slated to blink on at dusk on Wednesday, having this job done would mean kudos for Max and the Campbells.

  And the look of satisfaction on Charlie’s face, to work with four of his sons at one time?

  Priceless.

  Chapter Nine

  Go time.

  Max and Bert Conroy had run a preliminary light test midafternoon. They’d held their breaths, thrown the switch and the world did not implode. Then.

  Now, if they got the same result tonight, when the village and shoreline blinked on around five-thirty, he’d breathe a whole lot easier. And if nothing major went awry in the next six weeks?

  Max might consider doing this again next year.

  “I made you coffee.” Tina clamped a lid on his to-go cup, then slipped into her heavy coat. “Two sugars, two creams.”

  “I like having my own personal barista. I could get used to this.” He smiled across the top of the cup and when she rolled her eyes at him, he glanced around. “Where’s yours?”

  “No time, I’ll get one later. You’ve got to be—”

  “Here.” Max took a sip of the coffee, then handed her the plastic travel mug. “We’ll share.”

  “We will not.”

  He made a face at her. “You’ll have supper with me, but you won’t share my coffee? That’s ridiculous, Tina.”

  “I’m simply abiding by our nonfraternizing rules. So should you.”

  “I believe I already cited the impossibility of that. And besides—” he waited until she looked up “—the army saw to it that my skill set is breaking rules. Which brings us back to the ‘all’s fair in love and war’ discussion.”

  “I’m not discussing any such thing,” she chided. “And we need to get over to the town square, ASAP. Once Reverend Smith is done with the prayer service, you’ve got to be ready to hit the switch. You can’t be late. You’re, like, the vice-president in charge of Christmas lights, a VIP around here during the holiday season.”

  “I’m not going without you. And don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. Make your coffee. It only takes a minute.”

  “Which is about what you have,” she grumbled, but she brewed a quick cup, fixed it and snapped a lid on tight. “Okay. We’re good to go.”

  He held the door open, locked it behind her, then let her precede him down the front steps.

  The street and the white-frosted green milled with people. Old, young, tall and small, the diversity made this lighting ceremony a wide-ranging event. He reached out and grabbed Tina’s free hand when he descended the steps, then tugged her around the back way, behind the church. “This gains us some serious leverage because fighting through that crowd would mean talking to folks, and we’re skating close on time as is.” They moved across the back church parking lot, through the lower end of the cemetery, then into the park square opposite Seth’s house. “Done, with ninety seconds to spare.”

  “Not bad.” She sipped her coffee and smiled up at him. “I’m impressed, soldier.”

  He started to smile, but Ray and Mary Sawyer approached from one side, with Sherrie and her husband, Jim, behind them. From the other side of the street, Seth and Gianna worked their way across the green with Charlie and Jenny. Seth carried Bella, bundled from head to toe in a bright pink fleece snowsuit with teddy-bear ears. Mikey was dressed in a brown version, but he stubbornly kept grabbing his hood and yanking down, giving his petite mother a hard time. Seth’s adopted daughter, Tori, and Carmen Bianchi flanked Gianna, and the sight
of his brother’s growing family and the Sawyers drove the sharp difference home.

  Seth was here with his family, a spirit of joy abounding.

  Pete would never have that chance.

  “Max! Tina. We’re so excited about all this.” Mary grinned up at Ray, then added, “The thought of a new baby, our first grandchild, Christmas, the lights...”

  “Grandson,” added Ray, clearly proud. “Peter James Morgan, named for his Uncle Pete—”

  Max’s heart strangled.

  “And next year this time, little Pete will be here with us.” Mary pressed a kiss to Sherrie’s cheek, clearly delighted. “I’m just crazy excited to think of it!”

  Nearly fifteen years they’d waited for this new chance at happiness. Fifteen years without their oldest son. A decade and a half of an empty chair, Pete’s laugh silenced by an early grave.

  Guilt clutched Max and refused to let go.

  Why hadn’t he said something? Why had he stormed off, letting Pete make the final decision?

  You know why. You didn’t want to be a third wheel, and you felt like Pete would rather be alone with Amy than have a buddy hanging about, especially a buddy that didn’t want to drink with them.

  Reverend Smith keyed his microphone. The gathered crowd went quiet, waiting.

  The reverend smiled at the crowd, letting his gaze wander and linger here and there. When he got to the growing group of Campbells and Sawyers, he paused. Not a long pause, but enough to tell Max that the aging rector recognized the moment.

  He knows. Or at least suspects. And why wouldn’t he? Max realized. The reverend had officiated at Pete’s funeral. He’d watched Pete and Max grow up, he knew their families, their friends. Maybe ministers came especially equipped with guilt meters, or as least a heightened awareness of human reactions.