by Jean Joachim
He pulled into his parents large circular driveway and noticed his was the last car to arrive. Good. Barbara is here. I can get some answers. Checking his watch it was ten thirty and there were lights on only downstairs in the big Victorian house. Grey pulled out his key and opened the door.
As he stepped into the entryway, the buzz of voices stopped. He walked under the arch to the living room and his mother fairly jumped up from her chair, her face breaking into a huge smile.
"Grey! So happy to see you. Where is she? Still in the car, did she fall asleep?" His mother asked, her eyes darting around the entryway.
"She's not coming."
"What?" His mother said, sinking down into the sofa, her frown evaporating.
Grey looked directly at his sister, Barbara, and noticed she let out a big breath.
"Why? What happened? She's not sick is she?" Fran Andrews, Grey's mom, asked.
"No, she's not sick. Perhaps we'd better ask Barbara why Carrie's not here."
Jenna, John, his father and Fran all turned to look at Barbara. Even her husband, Earl, turned toward her. Barbara blushed.
"It's not my fault, Grey. Honestly." She sank down into a wing chair.
"She hasn't told me what happened. Would you?" Grey requested as he sat down in a wing chair across from her.
Barbara told her family the story about the conflict with her boss and the ad agency.
"And you were going to tell me about this, when?" Grey asked in angry tones, his face darkening.
"Honestly, Grey, I thought it didn't concern you. I mean the girl has to decide whether or not to keep her job or her boyfriend. Can you make that decision for her?"
Silence fell on the room.
"If I had known about it maybe I could…" he began.
"Maybe you could what?" Barbara said, rising from her chair.
"Discuss it with her?"
"If she wanted to discuss it with you, then why didn't she? This is all her choice, not mine." Barbara walked over to the fireplace, rested her hand on the mantle as she stared into the fire. "Do you think I want my little brother to lose the woman he loves?"
"Who said anything about love?"
"You invited her here, didn't you?"
"So?"
"So that says it all. Believe me, I didn't want to make that phone call. But I can't lose this job. Carrie is a very talented copywriter. I didn't want to lose her on our business either, but I had to call Goodhue." Barbara folded her arms across her chest and paced slowly in front of the fire.
"You wanted her to dump me so you could continue to have her on your account?" Grey questioned her, rising from his chair.
All eyes fell on Barbara.
"It wasn't a matter of what I wanted. It was her decision or Goodhue's. He could simply have fired her." She stopped moving and looked at each face staring at her.
"Or transferred her to another piece of business, maybe?"
"He said he didn't have anywhere else to put her."
"What about all that new business work she's doing?"
"There's no budget for salaries in new business. Since there's no income against that, they can't justify any salary expenses against it. Goodhue explained it all to me. Believe me, we discussed the options. I didn't want to put you in this position," Barbara said, putting her hand on his arm.
"You didn't put me anywhere, but you did jam up Carrie pretty badly."
"It's my boss. If I had my way…"
"I get it. I get it."
Grey strode out of the living room and back to his car. He opened the trunk and took out his bag. When he returned no one had moved from their spot and all were quiet.
"And Jenna gave her the thumbs up, too," sighed Colin, Grey's younger brother.
Colin got up and took empty coffee mugs into the kitchen. Jenna walked over to Grey and gave him a big hug. She whispered to him.
"You can't let her get away."
Grey looked at her.
"I want her in this family. I feel like she's my sister already."
"After one weekend?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I like her. Besides, it wasn't an ordinary weekend," Jenna teased.
Grey put his hand up and stepped back.
"Okay, okay, I know… Please bring her back." Jenna placed her hand on his forearm.
Bill walked over to Jenna and took her hand, to lead her upstairs. Barbara walked by trying not to look at Grey on her way to the kitchen. John Andrews stopped and shook Grey's hand.
"Good to see you, son," he said before turning to go upstairs.
Fran hugged Grey.
"I know you're disappointed," Grey started.
"It's okay, dear. I'm fine. I want you to be happy. Resolve this in the best way for you."
His mother joined his father. Earl turned and waved a goodnight to Grey as he went to bed. Only Barbara was left in the kitchen.
Grey joined her, sitting down at the kitchen table.
"Coffee?" She asked, the pot poised over a clean mug.
He shook his head.
Barbara sat down across from him. "I'm sorry, Grey. If there was any other way…"
"It's not your fault, Barbara. You're right when you said Carrie should have discussed it with me. I don't know why she didn't."
"Good luck," she said, patting her brother on the arm.
"You coming to bed?" Earl asked, sticking his head in the kitchen.
Barbara got up and left with him.
Grey stood up and looked out the kitchen window over the sink. He watched the moon shine down on the bare branches of oak and maple trees covered with a light dusting of snow. In the moonbeams he could see snow beginning to fall. A white Thanksgiving, his favorite kind. He wouldn't be sharing it with Carrie. He missed her in this house. Everyone was going up to bed with someone and he wanted Carrie there, in his arms, in his bed. Disappointment welled up in his chest.
"This isn't over," he said aloud, to himself, before he went upstairs to bed.
Chapter Fifteen
Unable to sleep, Carrie rose early on Thanksgiving Day. Even with friends bringing dishes, there was still a lot to do. She put up a big pot of coffee, made a list then sat down to her computer, she wanted to do a few edits and other tasks before beginning the job of preparing their meal.
An hour later Delia wandered down in her robe, yawning.
"I see you have things well in hand," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
Next to a half-drunk mug of coffee was a chopping board and Carrie was busy making stuffing ingredients ready, chopping mushroom and celery.
"So much to do. Have to get organized."
"I'm so glad you can cook because, frankly, it's beyond me, Carrie. I never got the urge to learn. This will be our best Thanksgiving ever, now you're here."
Though it was only eight o'clock, the phone rang. Delia jumped.
"Who the hell can that be at this hour?"
She picked up the phone and cleared her throat. After greetings were exchanged, she took the phone into the living room and sat down on the sofa.
"Grey, how nice to hear from you," she purred.
Carrie's head shot up and she stared over the counter and pass through from the kitchen to the living room at Delia. Her aunt smiled back at her.
"She's here, but she's preparing our meal. I'm all thumbs in the kitchen. We're not having a big crowd. Just a few friends and my main squeeze, Tony. Oh, yes, and Tony's son, Mario. Mario's single, thirty and quite the Latin lover I hear."
Delia paused, listening.
"If she gets through soon, I'll have her call you. Have a wonderful holiday. Yes, you, too."
Delia hung up the phone.
"Why did you tell him about Mario?" Carrie asked, unable to keep the anger from her voice.
"The man should know who his competition is," Delia said, smiling.
****
Grey slammed the phone down, causing his father to turn around. John Andrews was minding a big pan of bacon on the stove
while scrambling a dozen eggs. Other members of the Andrews family were getting dressed and dividing up chores.
John looked over at Grey with a quizzical expression.
"Nothing, Dad." Grey said in a clipped tone.
"Didn't sound like nothing to me."
"Delia's boyfriend has a thirty-year-old son…some Latin lover type. He's going to dinner there today."
"You can't be worried about Carrie and this guy, can you?"
Grey gave his father a stern look.
"She's that fickle, some guy she just meets sweeps her off her feet? Bosh!"
"That kind of thing happens all the time," Grey said, sinking down into a kitchen chair.
John turned off the heat under the bacon and turned to face his son.
"If that's what's worrying you, what are you doing here?"
Grey looked up at his dad.
"Son, is this your woman?" John turned his back to the stove and faced his son.
Grey nodded.
"Then go get her and stop bothering everyone. We have a Thanksgiving meal to make here. I have bacon to cook. Get outta here," he said, turning back to the stove not able to hide a smile from his son and put the heat back on the bacon.
Grey hung his head and smiled. He stood up, took his keys out of his pocket and moved toward the door, stopping at the stove.
"I think I need some air. Thanks, Dad," he said, clapping his father on the shoulder.
John simply smiled at his son and went back to tending his bacon.
The last thing Grey heard as he was closing the front door behind him was his father's voice calling out.
"Who's first for breakfast?"
****
Carrie picked up her list with one hand and downed her second cup of coffee with the other. The turkey was in the oven. The table was set. The salad was tossed, waiting only for dressing to be added. Two pies were cooling. Everything else was being brought by others.
Carrie opened her computer to go back to her edits while Delia took a shower. She sat at the dining room table and looked out the window. The wide stream out back had a thin layer of ice forming in spots. A light snow was falling and just enough was sticking to the branches of the evergreen trees to make them resemble the trees in a Currier & Ives Christmas card. The sight was beautiful, one she had enjoyed for many years when her family joined Delia and Jack at this cozy little house in the woods for a family Thanksgiving.
She wondered what Grey was doing, what his family was doing. She felt guilty about canceling at the last minute. What would they think of her rudeness? Surely Barbara would explain everything. Still, she had wanted to go, wanted to meet his family see their house that Grey raved about so often. They were probably all having fun, teasing each other, doing chores and playing games like every other big family on this holiday. Carrie felt a pang in her chest. How wonderful to belong to a big family of loving people. She sighed and stretched, unable to concentrate on her writing. I'm taking today off. She closed her computer and threw on fleece pants and a down jacket.
"I'm going for a walk, Delia," she shouted toward the bathroom.
Carrie picked up a handful of bird seed from the sack by the back door, went outside and, shut the door behind her.
Carrie wandered into the woods, looking for birds. Most had flown south but there were always a few sparrows and chickadees looking for food. She threw some bird seed on the ground and kept walking, her eyes searching for a large stump to sit down on. She found a trunk perpendicular to the ground where it had fallen after some storm or other and she sat down, watching for the birds to come eat.
A few did stop by and she pulled out her camera. She snapped a few good pictures of them picking up the seed. After about twenty minutes she started to get cold. Her fingertips and toes became uncomfortable as frostbite threatened. She started back to the house. When she looked up at the sky, she was surprised to see smoke coming from Delia's chimney.
Who made a fire? Maybe Delia had stopped being afraid of matches long enough to learn to lay a fire and light it but Carrie doubted it. Delia, such a talented woman in some areas, was never much of a homemaker. As she got closer to the house, Carrie noticed a car in Delia's driveway. Sure enough, it was a silver Jaguar XK.
She hurried into the house and stopped at the kitchen door to take her shoes off. She heard laughter coming from the living room and peeked out the pass-through to see Grey having coffee with Delia in the living room in front of a roaring fire most likely built by him. When Carrie entered the room, he stood up.
She looked at him wearing a tan vee-neck sweater over a white shirt, brown corduroy slacks and a big smile. Her heart did a flip. She couldn't believe how happy she was to see him.
"I've got some calls to make," Delia said and slipped quietly up the stairs to her room.
"Hi," Grey said, standing immobile in front of the sofa.
"Hi." Carrie returned, her feet riveted to the ground.
She wanted to run to him but didn't know how he felt.
"Did you talk to Barbara?" she asked.
He nodded.
"So you know everything," she said.
"Not everything. Don't know how you feel," he said, moving toward her slowly.
"Me?" She backed away a step.
"What are you going to do?" He continued to move toward her.
"I…I…"
"Maybe we should talk about it?"
"You drove all this way to talk?"
Grey crossed the room and was standing in front of her. She looked up into his eyes and couldn't speak. She couldn't believe how much she had missed him in since Monday when they were last together.
"I know this is a tough decision for you…and we haven't known each other for long. But I know how I feel about you, Carrie," Grey said.
"Do you?"
"We could move in together. I have plenty of room in my house. Space for you to write…you could have your own writing room."
"Move in together?" She wrapped her arms around her chest.
Not what I wanted to hear.
"I don't want to lose you."
He looked down at his hands, then his gaze went to the floor before it came up to rest on her face. "I've never made a commitment before. This isn't easy for me." His foot tapped on the floor.
"And I've been badly burned once, so commitment isn't easy for me either," she countered.
"What would it take for you to quit?" He reached out, his hand cupped her elbow. "You make this sound like a business deal. Like I should name my price."
"I don't mean to. I…this is my first conversation…like this."
"Never wanted to before?" She stepped back away from him.
"Never wanted anyone the way I want you."
"You want me to quit?"
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't. Of course I want you to choose me. But because you want to. Because you love me the way I love you." A flush stole into his cheeks.
There it is. The magic word. Love.
As he moved closer, she grinned up at him. He placed his hands on her arms and lowered his head until his lips were only a breath away from hers.
"I do love you, Grey. More than I thought."
"I love you so much, Carrie. These past two days without you, I've been…nuts…miserable. I adore you. I need you with me. Marry me."
He retrieved a small box from his pants pocket and flicked it open with his thumb to reveal a stunning marquis shaped diamond solitaire about three carats.
Carrie's jaw fell open as she stared at the ring, then at him, then at the ring again.
"Well?" he asked, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead.
"Yes…yes! I will," she choked out, emotion closing her throat.
Grey's face lit up with a huge grin. He took the ring out of the box and slipped it on her finger.
"It's beautiful," she said, spreading the fingers of her left hand, watching the ring sparkle in the glow from the fire.
"And so are you," he said, his mouth
descending on hers for a passionate kiss.
Carrie wound her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer to him. His hands traveled down her back to squeeze her behind. When they broke, she stepped back, her finger touched her lower lip.
"I love you so much…I've missed you, too."
"Why didn't you call?"
"I needed to think this through before I made a decision. I didn't know what would happen between us. If I quit my job and you disappeared then I would be…devastated."
"Now you can quit and not worry. I'm not going anywhere. Go ahead. Call Goodhue. Drop the bomb on him today," Grey urged.
"I don't have to."
He shot her a questioning look.
"I already did. I faxed him my resignation this morning."
"You did? Before you knew for certain about me? Oh, Carrie…you do love me, don't you?" He pulled her into his arms again.
She closed her eyes and sank into his warmth. "I couldn't leave you. I figured if you left me, I'd deal, somehow."
"I'll never leave you."
"I know, I'm on 'The Marriage List', right?"
"What list?"
They laughed and hugged again. Delia appeared on the stairs. "So, you two reconciled, eh?"
"We're engaged." Grey beamed at her.
"It's about time!" Delia said, pretending to wipe her brow.
"Now you can tell Mario, 'tough luck'."
"Mario? Mario's gay," Delia chuckled.
The surprised look on Grey's face made both women laugh.
"Delia, you lied to me!"
"Not exactly, Grey. He is a Latin lover, but with men, not women. I decided to leave that part out."
"The turkey's in the oven and everything else is done here, right? If you want to leave, tell me what to do with the blasted bird and go ahead."
"Sure?"
"Of course, Cookie. I'd never stand in the way of true love."
Carrie wrote down instructions, threw her clothes in her bag and ran out to the car. It was already twelve o'clock and they had another two hours or more on the road. Carrie slid into the seat next to him, fastened her seatbelt and sank back. She couldn't stop smiling. She turned to look at Grey's profile. He glanced at her, flashing a beaming smile and she giggled.
