Dashing Through the Snow

by Lisa G Riley

  Her mother and one of her aunts looked to be in a lively discussion while they prepared things for the dining room. “Hi, Mom, Aunt Viv,” Lily said as she strolled in.

  “Hi, sweetheart!” her mother said and opened her arms.

  Lily playfully rolled her eyes but walked into her mother’s arms, bending down to accommodate Glenda Carstairs’ five feet five inch frame. At five ten in her stocking feet, Lily towered over her mother. She kissed Glenda’s cheek and snuggled her nose into her neck, loving the familiar intermingling scents of vanilla and White Linen. “Dinner smells wonderful,” she said and unable to resist, bent and kissed her mother’s other cheek when she released her.

  “It should,” her aunt said as she too opened her arms for a hug. “Your mother has been slaving over it since she got home from church. Hi, sweetie,” she said to Lily when Lily hugged her. “How are you?”

  “I’m good,” Lily said and went to the sink to wash her hands. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Nothing,” Glenda said with a smile. “Everything is all ready. The dining room table’s even been set.”

  “Okay,” Lily said and turned from drying her hands. She found herself studying her mother and her aunt. They were both small and slim with thick hair. Her mother kept hers closely cropped while her aunt had hers in a sleek bob. Lily had gotten everything but her height and skin tone from her mother. Her mother was just a shade darker, but Lily had the same light eyes and a frame that tended to run to skinny. Her mother and her aunt could almost pass for twins, they looked so much alike.

  “Are you staying for dinner, Aunt Viv?”

  “Yes. I invited myself.”

  “What about Uncle Ray and Quincy and Ray, Jr.?”

  Viv sniffed. “What about them?”

  Lily cleared her throat. “Uh…I thought…well, as far as I know, you’re the only one at your house that cooks.”

  Viv waved her hand. “They’ll be fine. They might not know how to cook, but they all three know that the most important buttons on the microwave are ‘time’ and ‘start’. And besides, I made meatloaf and mashed potatoes for them.”

  Glenda laughed. “Notice the emphasis on ‘for them.’ She asked me in church today what I was cooking and when I told her, she decided that she was in the mood for lamb. I told her that there was plenty enough for all of them, but she insisted on coming alone.”

  “Humph. Like I told your mother, there’s no sense in having a perfectly good meal ruined by some ruthless, greedy pigs. I deserve at least one meal a week in peace and quiet. They’ll be fine with meatloaf.”

  Lily chuckled as her mother shook her head. Her cousins’ table manners weren’t that bad, but she did admit to herself that she was glad they weren’t coming. She didn’t think she’d be able to withstand the never ending bickering they always seemed so willing to indulge in.

  “And speaking of church, Ms. Thing,” her mother said as she pointed a finger at Lily. “Why didn’t I see you there today?”

  Lily grimaced. “Didn’t I tell you? Sue was in town, but only for a few hours, so we went downtown and to Town Square before she got back on the road.”

  “And that’s another thing. I would have liked to have seen Sue. Why didn’t you bring her by?”

  “She was only in for a few hours, Mom. She told me to tell you that she promises to come see you and Dad on her next visit.”

  Glenda looked far from satisfied with that answer, and her next words confirmed it. “What I don’t understand is why you didn’t bring her to the church. Everyone can use a little religion on Sundays.”

  “Like I said, Mom,” Lily said, as she snagged a wine glass from the tray her mother was preparing, and walked over to the sideboard in the dining room where she’d seen a bottle of Bordeaux left open to breathe. “She was only here for a few hours.” After pouring herself a glass, she walked back into the kitchen and around the table to lean back against the counter. Looking down at the wine as she swirled it in the glass, she said, “When a person has a limited amount of time on her hands, the last thing she wants to do is spend it in church. I know I wouldn’t -- ” she suddenly stopped talking. The kitchen had gone unnaturally quiet.

  She looked up from her wine and found both her mother and her aunt looking at her with horrified eyes in the still quiet. Unfortunately for Lily, she was not the first to find her voice.

  “Pardon?” Glenda asked in a soft tone that didn’t fool Lily one bit.

  Lily bristled. “Come on, Mom, you know what I mean,” she said, and knowing she was in for it, took a huge gulp of wine. “We hadn’t seen each other in months and we wanted to talk and catch up. We could hardly have done that in church while sitting there listening to Reverend Carpenter pontifi – uh, preach, I mean, preach,” she said hurriedly when she saw her mother’s and her aunt’s mouths fall open, ready to read her the riot act.

  “Lily Elise Carstairs! I raised you better than that.”

  “Where’s, Dad?” Lily asked, blatantly trying to avoid the conversation. “I want to see Dad.”

  Glenda chuckled. “Oh, no you don’t. This is important, and I want you to listen to me. You can’t go running to your father to save you like you did when you were a little girl.”

  Lily frowned and pursed her lips. “Can too,” she mumbled into her glass with a pout.

  “Hi, y’all. How’s everybody doing tonight?”

  Everyone turned to see Smith standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Lily’s eyes narrowed in thought for a moment. Smiling, she walked toward him. “Hello, Smith. You enjoy church today?”

  Smith looked confused – first by the smile and then even more so by the question, she was sure. “Church? Huh? Actually, I didn’t make it to church this morning. I --”

  “Um hmm,” Lily murmured as she came abreast of him. “Tell it to the judge, cowboy,” she whispered and handed him her wine. “You’ll need this more than I.” In a louder voice, she said, “I’m going to find Dad for dinner, Mom. Be back in a tick.”

  She didn’t bother to look back. “Just when was the last time you stepped inside a church, Smith Cameron?” Glenda demanded sternly. Lily smirked and kept walking.

  “Hi, Daddy.” Lily had walked up the stairs to find her father in the den. He was sitting in an easy chair and reading what she was sure was the Sunday paper.

  He looked up from the paper with a smile. “Baby girl!”

  Lily resisted rolling her eyes at the nickname. At one point in her life, the entire family had called her that. At the age of ten, however, she demanded that they stop, explaining that the name made her feel like a baby. Everyone had complied, except for her dad. He’d refused to stop using the name. Explaining patiently to him why she didn’t like the nickname several more times didn’t deter him, nor did ignoring him when he called her by it. That last action, in fact, had gotten her a sore behind. Lily had eventually given up the fight, realizing that she was no match for her father’s stubbornness. “No, there’s no need to get up,” she told him as she walked over.

  “No need?” Peter Carstairs demanded as he stood. “The day I don’t stand up when a lady walks into the room is the day they tell me I can no longer stand. Now give your old man a hug. Hi, honey,” he said into her hair once he’d pulled her into his arms. “How is every little thing?”

  Lily returned his hug and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. Taking his hands in hers, she stepped back. At fifty-five, her father was still lean and handsome. His hairline had started to recede and he now wore thicker reading glasses, but none of that took away from his attractiveness. “Every little thing is just fine, Dad,” she said with a grin. He’d been asking her that since she was two and could hold a conversation. “How are you?”

  He smiled hugely again and pulled her into his arms again, this time for a bear hug. “Just wonderful, especially now that you’re here. It’s so good to see you, baby girl!”

  Lily laughed when she felt her feet leave the ground. “You just saw me l
ast week, Dad. Will you put me down, please?”

  “No matter, no matter,” he said as he squeezed her one last time before he released her. “Last week or last year; whenever we see you, it’s a good thing.”

  Lily felt tears fill her eyes as she looked at the bottomless well of love and gratitude in her father’s eyes. Oftentimes in her life, she’d look up and see one or both of her parents staring at her in just that way. It was very seldom when she didn’t feel the weight of those stares and sometimes that she’d never be able to live up to them. As a pre-teen she’d learned that her parents had miscarried twice before she was born and she’d begun to understand their love -- and their fear -- for her.

  “Thanks, Dad. It’s good to see you too -- usually,” she modified with a cheeky grin.

  “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” He gestured for her to sit down before taking his own seat again.

  Lily sat down across from him. “You know what it means. I don’t want any lectures about my career or my lack of a committed relationship, or anything else. I just want to enjoy a good meal with my parents. Capiche?”

  He only snorted and sat back in his chair. “Tell me about Santa Claus. Have they caught him?”

  Lily frowned; surprised no one in her family had mentioned her run-in with the jolly thug that day. Perhaps no one who knew her had seen her chasing him that morning. Whatever the reason, she was glad she’d get to tell the story, at least there’d be no embellishments. “No, Dad, considering that he came at me again this morning, I doubt he’s been caught,” she began and settled in to tell him the rest.

  ***

  All right,” Lily said hours later as she put on her coat, “later, dudes. It’s been real.” She’d already hugged her parents and aunt and was ready to go. She’d enjoyed the food, but for the first hour of the evening, all her parents and aunt had talked about were the pitfalls of her career. And Smith? He’d just sat there with a stupid smirk on his face. “I have an early start tomorrow, so I’ll be seeing you.”

  “Wait, Lily!” her mother called from the dining room. Glenda bustled into the room with a shopping bag. “I packed some leftovers for you.”

  “Leftovers?” Lily asked in surprise. “I thought we’d pretty much decimated everything tonight, and I know Dad called dibs on whatever was left. I heard him. He said it before we even started eating.”

  “Not leftovers from tonight, but from the week. There’s some roasted chicken from yesterday -- it’ll make lovely sandwiches -- and some lasagna from Thursday.”

  “Oh, yum. Lovely sandwiches. Thanks, Mom. I love ya, you know.”

  Glenda laughed as she accepted her kiss. “You love my cooking, is what you love.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a close second. Honest.”

  “Humph. How did such a mean mouth ever get matched with such a lovely face, I wonder?” Glenda teased as she took Lily’s chin in her hand. “Now you wait just a minute. There’s enough food in that bag for Smith, who’s going to walk you back to your grandmother’s. Uh–uh,” she cautioned when saw that Lily was going to object. “It’s either that or your father will have to take the time to put on all of his winter gear and leave the warmth of hearth and home and go out into the arctic night. He’ll let the cold settle into his rickety old bones – all so he can drive you home a few blocks. And I know a nice girl such as yourself wouldn’t want her daddy’s pneumonia on her conscience, when she could prevent such tragedy just by accepting a gracious offer of assistance from a gentleman.”

  Lily looked blank for a moment, and then: “Guilt trip number five thousand six hundred and seventy-eight. And you say you don’t have any talents,” she teased. “Shame on you,” she chided and then shook her head before her mother could say anything else. “Fine, fine. Let’s go, Smith,” she called towards the back of the house.

  “Over here, princess,” Smith said mockingly from behind her.

  She turned. He stood in front of the door and when he saw that he had her attention, he dramatically swept the door open and with a bow and smile, said, “After you, milady.”

  Lily curled her lip, stuck her chin up a notch and marched past him.

  Chapter Nine

  Christmas, 1989

  “Smith, help! Ooh, it hurts! Please!”

  At the sound of Lily’s panicked voice, Smith dropped his SCUBA gear and started running toward the other end of the beach. As he got closer and heard her wails – which were getting progressively louder – he wished he’d gone with his first instinct and made her go back to bed earlier when he found her trailing behind him as he sneaked out of the beach house.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “And all I wanted was to try out my SCUBA.”

  He found Lily sitting in the sand with her hands wrapped around her right knee so that her foot was lifted from the ground. Tears ran rapidly down her face. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

  “A j-jellyfish stung me. It hurts. It hurts so much!”

  The panic ballooned larger in his chest and Smith took a deep breath. “Where, Lily? Where did it sting you?” he asked urgently.

  “On my foot.”

  Smith felt sweat bead on his forehead and again wished he’d stayed in bed and waited patiently for his dad. “You can do this,” he muttered.

  Lily suddenly stopped crying. “Do what?” she sniffled suspiciously as she looked up at him.

  Smith tried not to let his panic show, knowing if he did, it would only increase hers. He knelt beside her in the sand and pushed her wet hair from her face. “Don’t cry, Lily-bud,” he said as soothingly as he could. “I’m gonna help you, but you haveta trust me, okay?” He made sure she was looking him in the eye.

  She nodded and held her ankle out to him. Smith looked at the sole of her foot. At eight after watching “Jaws,” he’d decided that he was going to be a marine biologist and a Texas Ranger and now two years later after having read everything he could get his hands on regarding the subject, he knew what he was looking at, and he didn’t think it was good. His heart was somehow lodged and beating in his throat now, but he gave her an encouraging smile anyway. “You know what, Lily-bud, you were absolutely right,” he tried to say in a bolstering voice to deflect her worry. He reached for her towel. “You have been stung by a jellyfish. You must be the smartest eight-year old girl I know -- ”

  “Girl,” she emphasized between sniffles as she knuckled the tears from her eyes. “I’m the smartest girl you know, period.”

  Smith rolled his eyes, but looked up briefly to smile at her. “Oh, right, my mistake. You are the smartest girl I know.” Using the towel, he gently grasped one of the two coiled stingers stuck in her foot. She flinched, but didn’t try to jerk away from him. “That a girl, Lily. Almost done.” He pulled the last one out and tossed the towel aside. “There.”

  “Are you finished?”

  Smith looked over at her and winced, knowing that what he had to do next would totally freak her out. “Not quite, Lily,” he told her as he stood. “I got the nematocysts out and that’s good, but there’s more. Now I don’t want you to go bananas on me or anything—and keep in mind that if I don’t do this, you could die,” he warned. “Do you hear me, Lily? You could totally and completely die.”

  Wordlessly, Lily nodded her head and Smith thought that she was probably terrified. He knew she was when in a tiny voice, she asked, “What do you haveta do, Smith?”

  Smith cleared his throat. “I have to…well…I haveta…ta…ta pee on ya.”

  Lily’s eyes widened in her tear-stained face. “You WHAT! Gross! I’d rather die!”

  Embarrassed at the prospect of her seeing his penis and just flat out stressed out from panic now because he knew they were running out of time, Smith yelled, “Just shut up, Lily and let me do it! If you die, don’t you understand that our parents will kill us both? Now stick your damn foot out and let me pee on it!”

  Lily pouted and her eyes flashed angrily up at him. “All right, but you just better pee on that one spot and
nowhere else! Do you hear?” She stuck her foot out.

  “This ain’t no target practice, you dumb girl!” Smith yelled as he pulled his trunks down. “Now stop being such a baby and hold your stinkin’ foot straight!”

  But Lily’s attention was riveted on something else entirely now. “Euww!” she moaned as she stared at his penis. “I didn’t know pink could be so ugly!” she wailed with her head thrown back. “I wish we’d never even come to Florida!”

  “You intend to ignore me the entire walk home, sweetness?” Smith asked after they’d gone a couple of blocks without Lily having opened her mouth once. Things had gone exactly as he’d figured they would at dinner. Lily had pretty much ignored him unless it was a situation where she couldn’t without being blatantly rude, and her mother and aunt had fussed over both of them while her father had tried to browbeat, cajole and finally downright bribe her into giving up her career.

  Smith hadn’t expected to be able to try to patch things up with her that night, but now that he had her alone, and therefore a shot at it, he decided to take it. It became imperative that he fix things with her when he’d walked in the kitchen at the beginning of the night and she’d smiled at him. Then he’d gotten a whiff of her as she’d brushed past him. He had no idea what she was wearing, but whatever it was, mixed with her chemistry, it had gone straight to his head – both of them. And he’d realized, just as she sauntered her saucy ass right by him, that she’d set him up and he’d grinned. He had to admire her style. Sly and subversive it might be, but it was quick and clean. It always had been.

  “Oh, yeah, by the way, thanks so much for throwing me under the bus so early in the evening -- you left me standing there looking like a paganistic doofus. I had to promise your mama a month of Sundays before she’d let up on me.”