Home in Time for Christmas

by Heather Graham

  “No, no, that’s not what I’m doing,” George said. “Think about the many things people don’t really understand. You hit a button on a remote control and the TV channel changes. You hit buttons on your phone, and you can speak to someone on the other side of the globe.”

  “Not with my service,” Keith said dryly.

  Everyone stared at Keith. “Lighten up, guys, lighten up,” he said.

  Jake, who had been standing silently, watching them all, spoke, “It’s really true, you know. Discoveries are exactly that. Once upon a time, remember, the learned believed that the world was flat. And trust me, during the Revolution, even the lights you take for granted would be the most amazing creation ever. Men lived by candlelight, by lamps, and none could imagine that a whole city could seem to be ablaze with light. And then—an automobile. And vehicles that fly through the air. Men on the moon. Modern warfare in which an entire city can be destroyed with the push of a button. Melody, think about it, really. There’s no reason to believe that your father can’t invent anything.”

  “But he’s going to blow himself up!” Melody protested.

  “Daughter! I’m the man who put you through school, kept clothes on your back—believed that you could make a living at being an artist and that you shouldn’t have to major in physics, English or something entirely practical and guaranteed,” George said indignantly.

  Melody was at a loss. Keith always sided with their father—they were two of a kind. And Jake was obviously not going to help her.

  She was about to throw her arms up and walk away.

  She didn’t get the chance.

  Mona stuck her head out the back door. “Supper is just about ready, all. Come on in. George, dear, oh! And Keith! I think you two really need to go on up and wash your faces. You’ve got about ten minutes.”

  “Yes, dear, right away. Thank you,” George said.

  He pinched Melody’s cheek and headed on in. Keith did the same. She glared at him.

  Jake, grinning, walked by her, too. “Mrs. Tarleton, please, will you allow me to help you set up for the meal?”

  “How charming, well, of course, Jake. Thank you so much. There’s really nothing to it these days, just throw a few things out on the table,” Mona said.

  The back door closed. None of them seemed to realize they’d even left her out there.

  She started to follow, but changed her mind. She went to the door of her father’s laboratory and opened it carefully.

  Whatever had occurred had taken place on one of his lab tables. The fire extinguisher was still next to the table. Keith, however, had wiped up the chemicals. Despite the fact it had sounded as if a bomb had gone off, the place looked clean. Well, other than the layer of soot on the windows, but she knew that when the meal was over, George would come right out and finish the cleanup.

  She walked over to her father’s desk. Looking at the many scattered papers, she did suddenly rue the fact that she had been totally enamored of the arts in school. She’d had basic courses in math and science, but not much more. She just wished that she could begin to understand the initials and squiggle lines drawn on the spreadsheet her father had out on his desk.

  Curious, she hit the mouse for her father’s computer, bringing it back to life. She had expected to see squiggles and chemical initials, as well. But there was an article open in the corner that spoke about black holes and magnetic fields. There was another article on the Bermuda Triangle, and it’s counterpart across the globe. There were many suggested theories regarding the Triangle—one, aliens were controlling the space; two, there was a different kind of black hole to be discovered there; and three, it all had to do with the magnets of the earth’s poles.

  She tended to think the last might be the most logical, herself.

  There was also an e-mail on the page that was open beneath the articles. Oddly enough, it was from her mother.

  George, I’ve been reading a book written by a scout working for the French before the French and Indian wars. A Massasoit chief had brought him to what they called “the place of the waters and five trees.” The scout swore that the chief showed him how a rabbit could disappear—and an owl could fly out when the rabbit was gone. It had to do with the shaman’s magic, he said, but it could only take place at that one spot. I’ll show it to you later. This may have something to do with your waves and frequencies that cause movement.

  Melody backed away from the computer, dismayed. Now her mother was in on it all. She wasn’t just being tolerant—she was trying to turn some of her Wiccan or pagan beliefs into something scientific.

  The door to the laboratory opened. She stepped back from the computer.

  She flushed, aware that she had been reading a private message.

  It wasn’t her father, or her mother. It was Jake.

  “They’re crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “Oh, my God, they’re both crazy.”

  Jake stared at her, smiling very slowly, shaking his head. “They thirst for knowledge—that doesn’t make them crazy. Melody, they are very dear people. You are blessed.”

  “I know they’re dear people. Don’t you understand how much I love them? That’s why I worry so much. And Keith is certainly no help.”

  “Your brother is a good man, as well,” Jake said. “And you love them—you’re not giving them your faith. You want everything solid, in black-and-white all the time. But love isn’t solid, and you love your family. Give them your belief, as well. Belief isn’t tangible, you’ll never hold it in your hands. But it’s a beautiful gift to give someone.”

  Well, of course, Jake would speak so well on belief. He had the craziest story in history, and he wanted her to believe him.

  “Sure,” she said, turning away. There was bottle of glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels near the lab table. She picked up both and started working on her father’s windows. Jake helped her. He was good, and he was quick. He seemed awed by the glass cleaner. “This is so much easier,” he said. “So…and the paper towels. Amazing.”

  “Jake, I’m really glad that anyone can get that excited by Windex. We don’t use paper towels that often. My mother is trying to save the trees,” she said.

  “Save the trees?”

  “Yes, that’s one problem with all the technology we’ve created. The air is going bad because we cut down the rain forests. Fish are tainted because industry has caused the mercury levels in the seas to rise. Industrial waste is incredibly high, and even when we—Americans, the biggest group of users—pass laws to protect the environment, we can’t force other countries to do the same. You’ve seen all that’s wonderful, but it all comes at a price, too.”

  He nodded gravely. “So it is better to use cloth with which to clean, and vinegar, and other old sources.”

  “Natural sources.”

  He nodded again. “As you pointed out, I believe, hemlock is natural.”

  “All right, so there is a neutral ground. Sadly, we haven’t found it yet.”

  “Even back where I came from, one person could not solve all the problems. Working together is the only way,” Jake said.

  “Yeah, and that sure works out just great all the time,” Melody said.

  Jake shook his head. “Melody, I do believe that you need a good slap—which, of course, I will never deliver. Don’t cry about what you see that you don’t like, work at it.”

  “I can’t send my father to his room for bad behavior,” she said.

  “Your father hasn’t behaved badly. You have,” he said. There wasn’t accusation in his words; it was just something that he was pointing out.

  “I love my father!”

  He answered slowly and carefully. “I know I’m an outsider, looking in. But your mother has shown me pictures you drew in kindergarten. She’s told me that friends and neighbors thought it was actually silly that you went to school for art—artists didn’t make it, not often, anyway. But she and your father knew that you were good. They loved you, and they had faith in you.
”

  “You really don’t understand. My father is a brilliant man, and I know that. I don’t want to see him go brilliantly crazy,” she said firmly.

  “Are dreams all crazy?”

  “You know, you’re just being aggravating,” she said. “You’re right—you are an outsider. You don’t understand.”

  “All right. But I think he’s an amazing man. He’s fearless, and he’s proven he’s talented. I confess, you’re right—I don’t understand. I don’t know why you won’t let him have a dream.”

  He turned around and headed for the house. She looked after him, feeling chastised and resentful.

  And wondering if she did fail to believe in others when she so craved that they believe in her.

  “I should have dropped him at a hospital!” she muttered to herself.

  She could still do so, of course. Walk into the dining room and announce that she had struck him while driving, been certain that he would come to his senses if she just brought him home to be fixed, but it wasn’t working.

  She wondered vaguely if she could be arrested now for striking the man and not filing a police report immediately. She could just imagine herself in the lockup for Christmas with her family gathered around her.

  No. She wasn’t going to do anything. And it wasn’t because she was afraid of being arrested.

  She wasn’t ready to let him go.

  Resolutely, she walked toward the house. What bothered her, she knew, was that he got beneath her skin.

  Everything was on the table when she went in, and her father was pouring lemonade into glasses to go around the table.

  “Mom, I’m sorry, I should have been in helping,” she said.

  “Oh, your dad and I have this down pat—we’re all fine here. You can do the cleanup if you wish, dear,” her mother said.

  “That will be perfect,” her father said. “Your mom and I like to snuggle and watch that new game show that comes on at eight.”

  Keith, across the table from her, made a face. “They’re too cute, aren’t they?” he asked. “So, what are we going to do tonight?” he asked.

  “I was thinking that there are a zillion more DVDs that Jake really needs to see,” Melody said.

  “I was thinking that we should take him clubbing,” Keith said.

  “There will be a designated driver,” her father said sternly.

  “See, there’s one of the great aspects of living in New York City,” Melody said. “Your entire group can pass out and you’re okay because you take taxis everywhere.”

  “Melody,” her mother said worriedly.

  “Mom, I’m just saying in the city we don’t think about designated drivers. I don’t actually go out and pass out. Of course we’ll be responsible,” Melody said.

  “Wherever did we get such a sarcastic child?” Mona said, shaking her head.

  “Hey—Keith’s the one who spends his life torturously teasing everyone,” Melody protested.

  “Torturously teasing?” Keith said. “There’s a mouthful.”

  “We do have a guest,” George said. “Let’s all behave.”

  Mona turned to Jake. “I’ll bet you know wonderful little tidbits about the Founding Fathers from your job at the tour company. Have you any great stories that the general public may not know?” she asked.

  He finished chewing—meat loaf—and mulled over the question for a moment. “What I don’t think people realize today, perhaps, is what a losing proposition going to war against Britain really was. Every single man who signed the Declaration of Independence was, in essence, signing his own death certificate. The United States was a group of separate colonies, all with different problems, and different beliefs. Even—among the Thirteen Colonies, there were terrible arguments about how a new government should be formed. All these men who were the Founding Fathers were individuals. They all had their strange habits, some drove the others crazy—they were people. Somehow they got it together to form a nation.”

  Great, he just managed to sound better every time he opened his mouth.

  “You must be a wonderful guide!” Mona said enthusiastically.

  “You speak as if you’ve seen the past and the present,” George told him. “My God, what a wonderful way you have of putting everything into perspective. We spend so much time these days just bitching and moaning!”

  “Dad, we’re supposed to bitch and moan. It’s our God-given right,” Keith said.

  “If we don’t bitch and moan, how do we change things?” Melody asked. She turned to Jake. “Isn’t that half the point of the Constitution, too? It was written to be amended. Dad, if people didn’t bitch and moan, women wouldn’t have the vote. Slavery would still exist. We have to speak up to change things, right?”

  “Absolutely,” Jake said. “Hopefully, though,” he said sorrowfully, “most changes will not require a civil war. But then, I suppose that was inevitable. I mean, even when they were writing the Constitution, it was an issue. Many people wanted antislavery laws written in, but many of the men going to war were slave owners. Some made a point of saying that upon their deaths their slaves were to be given their freedom, but then again, I took umbrage with that myself! I mean, if that’s your belief, make it a point during your own lifetime.”

  Keith flashed his sister a smile. There was an indignation in Jake’s voice that rang sincerely.

  Just as if he’d really been there at the time.

  “I wrote about it, of course,” Jake continued. “I made a few enemies, and certainly rhetoric spun around and around, and you must remember, certain of those men did despise one another. Of course, I was never in that inner circle, but my realm surrounded it, and it’s important to remember that we forced ourselves to make compromises, to rise above our own personalities. It doesn’t mean that it was perfect, little in life is ever perfect. But we made it work, despite ourselves.”

  George and Mona were staring at Jake, dumbstruck.

  “He’s gone into guide mode,” Melody said hastily.

  Jake stared at her. His eyes widened with alarm, and he quickly turned to George. “Sorry, I suppose I did go into…guide mode. Mrs. Tarleton, the meat loaf, as all else, is wonderfully palatable, quite delicious, really. Thank you so much for the kindness of this meal.”

  “Um—you’re welcome,” Mona said quickly.

  “All right, looks like we’re all done here!” Melody said, rising. She snatched her brother’s plate and her own. She started to reach across the table for Jake’s.

  “Melody,” her mother protested, “Jake is still eating!”

  “He just has that last bite and he’s all done!” she said cheerfully. “Right, Jake? Scoop it on in.”

  He chewed his last bite; the fork was barely off the plate before Melody had it in her hands. She breezed through the swinging kitchen door, then returned in seconds flat for the rest of the plates. Jake, who had risen after his last mouthful, was collecting more of the dinnerware.

  “Lemonade back in the refrigerator, please!” she said.

  “My goodness, they’re in a hurry,” Mona said.

  “Clubbing,” George told her knowingly.

  “Responsibly!” Mona added.

  “No, Mom,” Melody said. “We’re all going to get completely wasted, do a few drugs, maybe go park somewhere in the woods where we know that slashers in masks come to attack the foolish young people. It will be great.”

  “Where did we go wrong?” George groaned.

  “Well, we didn’t actually go wrong,” Mona said. “They’re just very mouthy children. Come on, old fellow, let’s go get comfy in the family room and leave this all to them!”

  With her brother and Jake, it was quick and easy for Melody to get everything picked up and done; Keith was a twenty-first-century guy, much like her father, ready to pitch in with housework, babies, whatever might come his way. Jake seemed ready to fall right in, too.

  His fascination with the dishwasher was endless. He seemed to have gotten the concept of the in
door plumbing down all right, but the dishwasher still amazed him.

  “He might go crazy vacuuming,” Keith whispered. “We need to show him how!”

  She jabbed her brother in the elbow.

  “We should be watching DVDs,” she said. “He has a lot more history to go through—we could show him Defiance, or All’s Quiet on the Western Front, or Pale Rider, or The Unforgiven, or—”

  “We can start a moviefest in the morning,” Keith said. “Come on, let’s go clubbing. Cut a rug, all that stuff.”

  “Cut a rug? What, now you fell out of the last decades, too?” Melody demanded.

  “Hustle and shout, baby,” Keith teased.

  “Hustle and shout? Is that like a rebel yell?” Jake asked.

  “Kind of. My brother insists that you want to see the current pickup mode. Bar hopping, or clubbing. A bunch of drunk people sit around in ridiculous outfits. Sometimes they dance. The music is loud enough to blast your ears. Sometimes, they ask each other questions like, ‘What sign are you?’ Sometimes they’re honest, and just try to buy each other drinks—or get right down to it and find out if they want to sleep with one another,” Melody said.

  “Shocking,” Jake said.

  “See? He doesn’t want to go,” Melody said.

  “On the contrary, I’m quite fascinated,” Jake said.

  Keith started to laugh. “It’s time to hit the nightlife! No, wait—it’s almost time to hit the nightlife. I mean, we have some good stuff right here, but…children!” He set an arm around Melody’s shoulder and then one around Jake’s. “Go spiff up. No, sorry, Melody, you go spiff up. I’ll have to give Jake the right stuff to spiff up with. Thirty minutes, we meet on the porch. I’ll play tour guide for the evening.”

  “What are you up to?” Melody asked her brother suspiciously.

  “Trust me.”

  “That’s a slightly frightening concept,” she said.

  “Oh, ye of little faith!”

  She glanced at Jake. He was smiling, watching her.

  “Oh, what the hell. Sure, I’m going to trust the guy who used to like to exchange my shampoo with cooking oil. The one who put frogs in my bed. Yeah, right. I will. I’ll just go on blind faith!”