Family Blessings (Cisco Family)

by Fern Michaels

  “You know the worst part of all this, Hannah. Cisco and Dad are going to find out. God, can you just imagine the lecture we’re going to get. Whose side do you think Sam will be on?”

  “What a strange thing to be asking me, Sara. Our side, of course.”

  “Wrong. Sam had the guts to cut our bond. Sam is his own person these days. That’s a good thing, Hannah. We’re on our own.”

  “No, you aren’t. I’m on your side,” Sonia said staunchly. “You can always count on me.”

  “Over Sam?” Sara asked.

  “No, not over Sam. That’s where we all went wrong. We let each other’s lives interfere with our own. What are you two going to do?” Sonia asked.

  “I guess I’ll take a room at the Inn. I’m sure not going home. How about you, Hannah?”

  “My room has two beds. You can stay with me and Sonia. There’s no way I’m going to Cisco’s or Dad’s. And, what about tomorrow? Do we show up, or do we hide out?”

  Sara stared at her sister. “Hannah, we aren’t the ones who had the affairs. Our husbands had the affairs. We just…what we did was…”

  “Beat the hell out of them in public,” Hannah said. “I say we go to the dinner tomorrow and avoid them. No one will say anything with Cisco there. After dinner tomorrow, let’s go to New Jersey. Mom needs to know what jerks she left behind. Sonia, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  “Okay,” Sonia said agreeably.

  “I guess we can eat now. Hey, Biff, three burgers with the works, three loaded baked potatoes, and blue cheese on our salads, and bring us some more coffee!” Sara shouted.

  The gymnasium was huge, with a full set of offices, locker rooms, and a large, fully equipped kitchen for events such as this Thanksgiving dinner. During the year the Altar Society, the choir, and the Men’s Club held fund-raising events there, for which the women cooked the dinners, and the men served the food. It was the democratic way, Father Stanley said.

  The gymnasium, built by the townsfolk, served other purposes, too. It was where Larkspur High held its indoor sports events, held prayer meetings, wedding receptions, and people came when disaster struck. The Christmas and Easter pageants always played to a full house.

  Today the gymnasium was decorated for Thanksgiving. The choir members had brought in cornstalks and pumpkins. The Glee Club had festooned the last of the autumn leaves from the rafters and over the doors. Bales of hay with scarecrows in patched outfits graced the four walls. The long tables, with orange-and-gold crepe paper for tablecloths, held rich autumn-colored candles that winked and sparkled. Crinkly, accordion turkeys sat in the middle of all the tables, with small clusters of pumpkins surrounding their bases. The children would take them home after Thanksgiving dinner. The dishes were orange-and-brown plastic, as was the silverware, all donated by Marion Davis from her gift shop. The Sunday church bulletin would list all the names of those donating goods. All the volunteers’ names would be mentioned. The truth was, every person in town’s name would be in the bulletin. Father Drupieski was big on democracy and didn’t like, as he put it, sourpusses in his congregation.

  Thanksgiving dinner was his show, and he reveled in it. Plus, there was nothing he liked more than a big turkey dinner with all the trimmings. The ladies of the Guild were more than kind to him, packaging up dinners that always lasted him into the Lenten season, at which time he switched gears, arranged the Easter dinner, and had ham and sweet potatoes with little marshmallows until the summer harvest. It was a win-win situation that worked just fine for him.

  He was walking around the gym, stopping to talk to his parishioners and the few Methodists and Lutherans, along with their respective ministers. He was gracious, as always, in accepting the kind compliments for the warm, cozy turnout and the prospect of an equally wonderful, delicious dinner. As he made his way around the entire gym, his gaze was alert for a sign of the Cisco Trips and Loretta. So far, none of the family had appeared, not even Jonathan. He looked down at his watch. It was two-thirty. Dinner was at three o’clock, but rarely got on the table until four. There was still time for all of them to show up even though Loretta was convinced the Trips would be a no-show, as she put it.

  Father Stanley flinched when he heard Clyde Willis strumming on his banjo. For the life of him, he had no idea what the man was playing and seriously doubted if Clyde knew. In his late eighties, Clyde had serenaded the town for over sixty years. So far no one had the nerve to give him the boot. Plus, Clyde was deaf. “I’m taking requests!” Clyde bellowed.

  “I’ll get back to you on that, Clyde,” Father Drupieski said, moving farther away. The old banjo needed tuning. He added that to his mental list of things to take care of in the coming weeks.

  Father Stanley moved closer to the kitchen to savor the rich aromas wafting into the gym. He took a minute to look around at his flock. How he loved them, each and every one. He’d christened just about every child there today. Married them, officiated at burials, laughed with them, cried with them, comforted them, always wondering if the words were right. They’d all weathered so much over the years, and yet, there they were, as whole as they could be. Soon it would be time for him to retire. The thought bothered him.

  The little church in the valley was now a big church in the valley. He had new parishioners. When it was time to step down, a new priest would come on duty, and another phase of life in the valley would begin. New beginnings. A new beginning was what Loretta Cisco dreaded, what she couldn’t come to terms with. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he murmured to himself. It would all work out. It always did.

  He saw them then, the Trips. They weren’t together. Their father, Jonathan, stood near the open doorway with Alice. They looked happy. He hoped Jonathan would get off his duff and ask Alice to marry him. The best thing that could happen to him. And to Alice.

  Father Drupieski continued to watch. He convinced himself the Trips were avoiding one another. Where were their spouses? Ah, yes, over at the cider bowl. He frowned at the dark glasses on the two doctors and the patch over Zack’s nose. Everybody was avoiding everybody else. Well, that had to stop. He was about to march his way toward the Trips when he felt a hand on his arm.

  “Let it go, Drupi. After dinner is time enough. Let’s just get through dinner. Then, when the cleanup starts, I’d like you to take my grandchildren in hand. Will you do that for me, Drupi?”

  “Of course. Look, Loretta!” Father Stanley said as he pointed a finger across the room. Under the bandstand, Sam and Bill Rutherford were locked in a bear hug that looked fierce. I wonder what they’re saying, he mused to himself.

  Loretta Cisco’s shoulders slumped. Hot tears pricked her wrinkled eyelids as she watched the two handsome men across the room pummel each other. The biggest mistake of her life was being rectified in front of her very eyes. Her hand dug into Father Drupieski’s arm. “I made so many mistakes, Drupi. So many. Whatever is going on with my beloved Trips is all my fault. I taught them to…what I did…I let them believe the only people they could trust were each other. Was I blind? Stupid? How could I have done that, Drupi?”

  “Sshhh. I think you need to take a step backward now, Loretta, and let those children work it out. You might want to give some thought to the man standing over there by the doorway. I can’t swear to this, never having had children, but I think Jonathan could use a few words of praise from his mother. If not now, Loretta, soon.”

  Cisco dabbed at her eyes before she squared her shoulders. “As usual, Drupi, you’re right. It’s long overdue.” She walked away, stopped, and returned to Father Stanley’s side. “It isn’t too late, is it, Drupi?”

  “Loretta, it’s never too late. Not if your heart is in the right place. How many discussions have you and I had on love and faith, trust and forgiveness?”

  “Too many for me to remember, old friend.”

  Across the room, Sam and his new buddy moved away from the crowd. Sam beamed from ear to ear. Bill Rutherford, a silly look on his face, his round glasses steame
d up, hung on to Sam’s arm as though he was afraid Sam would vanish into thin air.

  “I got the first whipping of my life the day I tried to go to your house after my mom’s funeral. I was going to ask your mom and dad if I could live with your family.”

  Bill’s eyes sparkled behind his glasses. “No kidding! Well, I can top that. I got my ass fanned six different times because I hightailed it to the valley after your mom passed away. Each time I got to the top of the rise, where Ezra’s house is, and my dad caught me and dragged me home. He said if your family wanted me there, they would have invited me. Hell, I didn’t understand what that meant at the time, so I just kept trying to get to you. One time you three were playing monkey in the middle, and I hollered down to you, but you didn’t hear me. I gave up after that. I missed you, Sam. You were my best friend. Oh, I have lots of friends and acquaintances, but no best friend. Except my wife, Julie, of course, but that’s different. How about you?”

  The expression on Sam’s face was that of someone who had found the Holy Grail, a priceless jewel, and Christmas morning all rolled into one. For a few moments he forgot about Sonia and how miserable he’d been. “Nope. Wanna be best buds again?”

  “Damn straight I do. We’re moving back to the valley next summer. When you have kids, our kids can grow up and play together. You and I will go to ball games with the kids and do all the stuff you and I used to do. Your wife and my wife can hook up and keep our kids on the straight and narrow. Looks like a win-win to me. Maybe that old saying that you can’t go home again isn’t true. Now, let’s go somewhere where we can really talk, and you can tell me what it is that’s eating you alive.”

  The relief he felt at his friend’s words almost caused Sam to black out. “Won’t your wife miss you?”

  “Nope. She’s in charge of the honey butter for the biscuits. All those women chased me out of the kitchen. Let’s go, buddy, we’ve got some serious talking to do.”

  It was seven-thirty when the men of the parish bundled up the last of the trash to be taken out to the Dumpster. The tables and chairs had been folded and stored in the storage room until the next big Larkspur event. Only a few stragglers remained, along with Father Stanley’s mountain of packaged food. It was Jonathan, Alice at his side, who volunteered to take the packaged dinners to the rectory to store in the freezer.

  The Trips were standing with Cisco and Ezra, saying their good-byes. Sonia, Joel, and Zack waited at the door. “Scoot,” Cisco said. “Your spouses are waiting for you.”

  His hungry eyes on his wife, Sam said, “In a minute. Father Stanley said he wanted to talk to us over at the rectory. What did you think of Billy Rutherford, Cisco?”

  Cisco stared up at her tall grandson, knowing this was probably the most important question he would ever ask her. Her heart fluttered in her chest. “He looks like a fine young man. Father Stanley said he was moving back to the valley next summer. I’m happy for him and for you, too, Sam. It would be nice if you invited him for Christmas Eve. I’d love for him to come to my wedding Christmas Day. What do you think?” How anxious she sounded. She wondered if Sam was picking up on it.

  Sam hugged his grandmother. “I was hoping you’d say that. We’ll talk soon, Cisco.”

  Cisco stared deep into her grandson’s eyes. All she saw was love. She almost swooned in relief. “Yes, Sam. You know where to find me.”

  The Trips moved off. Ezra’s comforting hand on her arm calmed Cisco. “See, it wasn’t as bad as you thought. Whatever is going on with your grandchildren is being handled by them. They seemed so different today, did you notice? I don’t mean that hide-and-seek game they seemed to be playing. Suddenly, at least to me, they looked older, more mature, more…I guess the words I’m looking for are…in control. I think things are going to turn out all right, my dear. I do wonder, though, why those two doctors are wearing sunglasses, and Zack is sporting that bandage over his nose.”

  Cisco shrugged. Young people today were so strange. “I hope everything does turn out all right. We need to go home, Ezra; the dogs are waiting for us, and we have to feed them. I think it was nice of Emily to bake a chicken for the dogs since dogs aren’t supposed to eat turkey. I used to know why that was, but for the life of me, it escapes me at the moment. Emily packaged everything up for them. All we have to do is spoon it out. Freddie does love Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. I know Hugo does, too.”

  At the door, Cisco kissed everyone and held on to her son longer than she normally did. Tears burned her eyes when she stepped out into the star-filled night. She turned to see the bright lights spilling from the windows in the gymnasium. Soon the building would be dark, and the day would come to an end.

  “Do you need a boost, Loretta?” Ezra joked. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you eat so much. You might be a tad bottom heavy. Two helpings of stuffing!”

  “Three!” Cisco said smartly. “And no, I don’t need a boost, and if you ask me that again, I’ll swat you, Ezra.”

  Ezra smiled in the darkness. “Feels like snow,” he muttered as he climbed behind the wheel of the car.

  “So it does. Lionel dropped off two cords of wood yesterday. The freezer is full. I have a hundred catalogs to shop from if I want to. It can snow from now till Christmas, and I won’t care.”

  “Uh-huh,” was all Ezra said.

  Father Stanley waited at the side door while the Trips walked toward him. He squinted behind his wire-rimmed glasses as he watched. How formal they all looked. How reserved. How damn angry. They all turned to look at him. He could feel their anger and hostility, and it wasn’t his imagination either. Maybe anger wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was unhappiness. Not satisfied with either assessment, he finally decided what he was seeing was pure, unadulterated misery. He waved, then pointed at his watch, which meant, let’s get a move on.

  The three of them were wary, he’d give them that much. Maybe suspicious. “Let’s take this little talk over to the bleachers,” he said to them. “I know you all want to go home as badly as I do, but we need to talk before you do that. At least it’s warm in here. Now,” he said, holding up his hand, “I want to know what’s going on with the three of you, and I want to know right now. Pretend this is catechism class, and you’ve already answered two questions wrong. Bear in mind that I’m not long on patience. I’m waiting.”

  “With all due respect, Father Stanley, this isn’t a confessional, and what right do you have to haul us over here and question us like this? Who put you up to it?” Sara demanded. She hated confrontations almost as much as her siblings did.

  “With all due respect, Sassy Sara,” Father Stanley said, using her childhood nickname, “I christened you and your brother and sister, so that gives me the right. In addition, your mother asked me to look after you before she died. I promised her I would. You all know how I feel about promises. Now talk,” he thundered, his voice ringing in the open expanse of the gymnasium. “And don’t leave anything out either.”

  The triplets eyed him, recognizing the magic words. As one, they started to babble, each one trying to outdo the other.

  Drupi felt like he was on a roller coaster to hell as the Trips let loose with finger-pointing, screeching, yelling, name-calling, and using words he suspected weren’t in any dictionary. But he was rapidly getting the gist of what was going on. He knew what was coming next, too. He saw Hannah pull back her arm, her hand clenched in a tight fist. He was a split second too late getting off the bleachers. Sam took the blow smack in the middle of his nose. He raised his eyes upward, then threw his hands in the air. The Trips were on a roll, something he’d only heard about. As Loretta said, it’s better for them to play it out than to interfere.

  He’d never really seen the Trips in action, but Loretta had told him about the times they’d pummeled each other. Hearing about it and seeing it were two different things. He knew if he wanted to, he could probably stop it. But did he want to? No, he did not.

  Drupi hopped off the bleachers and
circled the Trips like a warring referee. They ignored him as they punched, kicked, and gouged one another. “That’s it, kill each other, and all your problems are solved!” he bellowed. “C’mon, c’mon, they’re just girls, Sam. Sara, you have a better left hook than that! Hannah, you fight like a sissy.”

  “Shut up, Father,” Sam bellowed, as his fist drove into Sara’s stomach! Drupi suspected he held back on the punch, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “Yeah,” Sara said.

  “This isn’t your fight, Father,” Hannah gasped, as Sara’s punch knocked her on her fanny. She rolled over grasping her stomach, wailing and threatening her sister with all manner of dire things for the wicked punch.

  Father Stanley blessed himself. “The hell it isn’t my fight. When I go up there, how am I going to explain this to your mother? Huh? Just tell me that.” He listened to another blast of verbiage such as he’d never heard before.

  Sara limped over to the bleachers and tried to sit down. She failed miserably and landed on her rump. She was bloodied and bruised. “I don’t want to do this anymore. Not ever, ever, ever. You started it, Sam.”

  Hannah tried unsuccessfully to get to her knees. She rolled over and closed her eyes. “This was worse than that Christmas out in the field when we were mad at Dad.”

  “I hate you both!” Sam said, his ears ringing.

  Father Drupieski dropped to his haunches. He clucked his tongue as he looked at Sam’s rapidly swelling eyes. He knew the young man’s nose was broken. It also looked to him like Sam had fared the worst. Sara’s lip was split, and Hannah had a bloody earlobe. Everyone’s knuckles were raw and bleeding, their clothes covered in blood. Both Hannah and Sara would sport lovely shiners by morning.