Ray laughed and swore. “Sure has, you old fencepost. Heck, I haven’t planted a football in the back of your head in years.”
“You two played football together?” Stormi hovered near the corner of the house as if she might leave them both in the driveway.
“Well, I played. Starting quarterback, I might add. Dummy was my bodyguard on the line. Isn’t that right?”
Ake struggled to keep his face expressionless. Ray had taken great pleasure in seeing how many times he could drive the pointed end of the football into the back of the skull. “You might say that.”
Stormi stepped closer, an odd look on her face. “Ray, his name is Ake. It irritates me that people keep referring to him as ‘Dummy.’”
Ray grinned. “Sorta fits him.”
Stormi’s facial features flattened. “Did you need something?”
Ake rubbed the thick beard, hoping the conversation didn’t return to football.
A smile split Ray’s handsome face like a practiced infomercial. “Just thinking about you, babe, and wondering when we could go out again. That bar was rocking last week, right?”
The air seemed to ooze from Ake’s lungs, and his gaze darted to Stormi. Her eyes dropped and her face paled.
“Figured we could hit up another place I heard of on the coast before New Year’s. Then maybe cruise on over and watch the ball drop. Yeah? Now that’s the way to party.”
Ake couldn’t move. An ache started in his gut and spread throughout his body.
“We’ll talk later, Ray. Goodbye.” She pivoted and strode around the corner.
“Guess her monthly visitor has stopped by, you know what I mean?” A bark of a laugh escaped Ray. “Tell ya what. I know you’re working on a project for her. I’ll let you soften her up for me. Let her know I’ll be calling later. Later, Dummy.”
Laughter followed Ray back to his sports car. The engine revved and the hot import shot away from the curb.
Chapter Twelve
Ake clenched his hand inside his wool coat, unsure of what to do. Unsure of what to think. He inhaled the cold air and glanced around the neighborhood. Maybe he should just leave. His gaze landed on the copse of trees behind Stormi’s house. Several minutes ticked by. He heard the door open. She peeked around the corner, with no coat. Her teeth worried her bottom lip and Ake couldn’t look away.
“You coming in?” Her voice was soft as down.
He took another breath and let it go slowly. “Not sure.”
She took a step closer, yanking the sleeves over her hands. Her teeth chattered, and her nose tinged to a rosy glow. She had to be freezing. Yet, he was frozen inside. This is how it always worked. He wanted the prom queen, and the prom queen wanted someone else. Everyone always knew the drill but him. A dummy for sure.
“It’s not what you think, Ake.”
He reached up and adjusted the black beanie on the back of his head. “You know, I think I better go. Mom’s probably got her clam chowder on, and I wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“Ake.”
He walked to the driver’s side of the truck. “Ray said he’d call sometime later. Bye.”
With little thought of his truck’s transmission, he slammed the gearshift into reverse, vaguely aware of Stormi’s huddled figure rushing towards him. He jammed his right foot onto the gas pedal and fishtailed it all the way up the hill.
Stormi caught her breath as she watched the old truck scramble up the hill and disappear. Her heart fell to her feet. Never had she seen Ake angry, but something had been there in his eyes. But it looked more like surprised pain. A sob rose and she covered her mouth. She’d betrayed him. She’d clutched that proverbial rug and yanked it from beneath his booted feet.
She hunkered to the sidewalk and bowed her head. How would she ever explain it to him? How would he ever believe her? Tears sprang to her eyes, and she rose and hurried to the door. She slipped inside to the ringing of her phone. With a heavy heart she checked the number and groaned. Mother. Could the woman have worse timing?
“Hello?”
“Where have you been? I’ve been calling all morning.”
“Church.”
“Church,” She spat. “You’re brainwashed is what you are. Such nonsense. Wish you’d give your family that much attention.”
Sobs worked their way up her throat, and she pushed the phone from her ear to collect herself. “What do you need, Mom?”
“Are you coming for Christmas or not? I’m not cooking a ham, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Christmas? Was it here already? “That’s not till next week.”
“Well, little priss, I have to get my plans in early or you don’t show up. And I’m giving you my old vacuum cleaner for your Christmas gift. It’s not that old.”
Stormi shuddered, recalling her mother taking it to her boyfriend’s house to vacuum up the flea infestation his hound had caused. “Oh.”
“I don’t have the money to buy everyone a gift. You coming or not?”
A solo tear crested and leaked down her face. “Can I call you back?”
“We always do Christmas Eve, not Christmas, you should know by now. Unless you’re too busy for me.”
“Okay. That’s fine. Mom, I gotta go. Goodbye.” She stabbed the red phone button and sank into the corner of her couch. Lord, Lord, how did I get here? She slumped forward, burying her face into a pillow.
“Merry Christmas, Ake.” His mother greeted him at the door with a hug. The smell of ham and spices filled the compact kitchen. A chorus of voices from the front room indicated Hoge and his family had gathered there. Then a familiar laugh.
He pushed away his somber mood and gave his mother a smile. “Merry Christmas, Mom. Aunt Phoebe made it?”
Her smile beamed from her face making the wrinkles in her seventy-four-year-old face more evident. “Yes. She made it in just a few minutes ago. And she brought her little dog.”
Well, that would add some humor to the day. Hoge would be beside himself. He hated that dog. Ake couldn’t resist the knowing look in his mother’s eyes, and he gave a short laugh. Then he sobered. “How’s Pop?”
Mom’s face lost a bit of its shine. “He’s good, but he doesn’t remember my sister, Phoebe. I think he does recognize it’s a holiday, so he hasn’t lost everything, yet.”
They walked tandem through the wide doorway. Hoge and his wife, Joni, rested on the couch. His brother parked his hand at the edge of the couch to keep the yappy little Chihuahua from jumping on the cushion.
Hoge’s eldest son, Linus, at fourteen, had his nose pressed to his smart phone. Crew and Deacon wrestled for the recliner in the corner while Aunt Phoebe lauded the room with her newest aches and pains with excruciating detail. Sweet five-year-old Lucy sat on the floor near the tree, taking in the entire room with huge eyes.
“Course they drained that cyst. It was a bit bloody, but my doctor didn’t seem much concerned. They sent it off to the lab, and I’ll know the results by next week. Then he checked the boil that had developed right there in the hair follicle on my big toe. That’s what I get for shaving it last summer. Plum nasty. There was a bit of yellow pus. He lanced it and had me putting on some of those warm compresses, and I’m on antibiotics for the ten days.” She paused to shake her head. “Which will cause me to get the yeast infection. Then round I go again.”
Hoge’s posture indicated he was less than thrilled by Aunt Phoebe’s run down of medical maladies. Or maybe the dog had him on edge.
Phoebe leaned forward and tilted the rocker to allow her to slowly rise. “Well, there’s the little man. Ake, you get over here and give your old Auntie a hug.”
He stepped forward and enfolded her in a generous hug. She smelled of past-ripe oranges and the pages of an old book. Despite the fact it wasn’t an overly pleasant odor, it brought back memories of Christmas pasts when Pop had been healthy and he and Hoge but boys.
“Hello, Aunt Phoebe.” He patted her back and tried to release her before she did. The
n he maneuvered himself to the couch and settled near Hoge. Joni flicked through a decorating magazine but paused to greet him.
Pop wandered into the room looking confused, and Mom guided him to an extra folding chair near the doorway to the kitchen. Pepe barked at Pop, and Phoebe hushed him.
“Oh, yeesh,” Hoge breathed. “Time to eat yet, Mom?”
She leaned against the doorway. “Not quite yet. Soon though. When’s your follow-up appointment, Phoebe?”
Hoge gave a low growl and rose to meander down the hallway whether to the bathroom or just to burrow himself into a quiet place. Pepe followed him yipping. Ake stifled a laugh.
Joni stood. “I’m going to rush things along. Excuse me, Ake.”
Some thirty minutes later they gathered around the table, hands joined, Hoge asking the blessings on the food. When he finished, Ake settled into his usual holiday chair and smiled. There was no place he’d rather be. He patted Pop’s hand and passed him the sweet potatoes. Pop stared at him with vacant eyes, so Ake spooned him a couple smaller pieces and set the bowl in the center of the table.
“Eat, Pop.”
The old man obeyed and lifted the fork. Nope, no place he’d rather be, but a few things he’d like to change. Ake’s glance fell on his mom. She laughed at something Phoebe said, and a small smile lit his face. At least Mom didn’t have to face caring for Pop alone today.
“Here, Pop. Have a little ham.”
His father nodded, and he slid a small piece to his plate. Ake’s gaze drifted to the windows as the same holiday conversations flowed around him, the ham platter still clutched in his hands. He longed for one more person to pass the ham to. He drew in a deep sigh. But he supposed Ray Newhouse would do that this year. Someone called his name, and he turned back, and yielded the ham.
ShaVonn raised her tea glass and clunked it against her absent mother’s. “Merry Narcissistic Christmas!”
Stormi rolled her eyes before catching her niece’s trembling lip. “ShaVonn, shhh.”
Her sister rose and stomped into the kitchen. “I know, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Vivie.”
The eight-year old blinked her eyes. “Why did Grandma leave?”
Marv, ShaVonn’s husband muttered, “Because she’s nuts.”
Stormi shot him a pointed glance and then turned a sunny smile on her niece. “Hey, why don’t you go get that package covered in My Little Kitty paper and unwrap it. The one over by the window. There’s one for Liza, too.”
Three-year-old Liza clapped her hands and struggled to climb off her booster. Marv rose and hefted her down.
“Are you sure?” Vivie wiped away a tear, but hope filled her eyes. “Can I, Dad?”
“Yep.”
The two girls launched into the living area as ShaVonn returned to the table and sank into her chair.
“Every freaking year. Seriously. Mom ruins every holiday. I can’t stand it anymore.”
Stormi took a deep breath. “I know. The meal was great though, ShaVonn. Thanks for having Christmas at your house.”
ShaVonn snorted. “Yeah it was so great, Mother had to have a conniption fit and storm out of the house.”
Marv grunted. “That’s because she’s nuts.”
“All right, Marv. We get it. Trust me, we so get it.” ShaVonn grabbed another pumpkin bar. “Screw the diet. I’m having another one.”
The girls’ squeals lit the air as the Barbies came to light. Wedding Barbie for Vivie and Butterfly for Liza. Stormi wondered how long Butterfly Barbie had before the toddler chewed her feet off. With a sigh she rose and started collecting the dirty dishes.
“Just leave them.”
Same old fight. “No, ShaVonn, I can have them loaded in the dishwasher and everything put up in fifteen minutes. You did most of the cooking. It’s only fair.”
ShaVonn gave a humorless laugh. “You know what would be fair?”
Grabbing a brush at the sink to scrub off the dishes, Stormi mentally sang what she knew would fly from her sister’s mouth next. ‘Tis the season for a mom who’s normal, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la, la, la. Instead we celebrate ruined holidays, tra-la-la-la-la, la, la, la, laaa.
“A mom who cares about someone besides herself for once. Like her grandkids.”
Stormi clenched her teeth. So close. “That would be nice.”
The girls came tearing into the kitchen.
“Thanks Aunt Stormi.” Vivie slammed into her hip with a huge hug.
Liza giggled and gave a quick hug, too, before both girls ran back to their bedrooms to enjoy their new-found toys.
“Well, Liza will have that doll’s clothes ripped off in ten seconds flat.” ShaVonn rose and collected a storage container for the left-over mashed potatoes.
A laugh burst from Stormi. “Here I was thinking the feet would take the hit.”
Marv rose and waddled into the living room. On went the TV.
“You’ll shoot your eye out.”
ShaVonn burst out laughing. “Our family should be made into a movie. We could become a classic Christmas Show. At least we’d make some money.
“At this point, I’d take a free shot with a BB gun.” Stormi snipped.
ShaVonn laughed. “Hey, we’re doing that? Let’s fill that puppy with Valuim. Maybe the girls could then have at least one nice memorable Christmas with their Grandmother.”
“Good point.”
“Do you remember last Christmas?”
Oh, boy, here we go. On to reminiscing over the last twenty years of spoiled Christmases. Stormi prepared a large supply of her uh-huh’s and her yeah’s while ShaVonn continued, then let her mind wander to Ake. The hurt expression on his face had haunted her the last week. Add to that the unpleasant conversation with Ray Newhouse, where she supposedly ‘broke up’ with him when they weren’t even dating.
“Then there’s the whole, guilt trip thing.” ShaVonn’s voice penetrated Stormi’s thoughts. “What is with that? Like it’s our fault we were born? You know?”
“Uh-huh.”
Stormi sighed. She had to find a way to break the ice between Ake and her. It was just too hard to show up at his house, spouting how it was a misunderstanding and the whole works. Besides, why did she even feel responsible for explaining in the first place? They weren’t a real couple. They were just putting on to impress his brother and shipmates.
“And if I have to hear how I should have married Lance Rushton one more time, I’ll scream.” ShaVonn’s tirade continued. “She thinks just because he owns a hotel that I should’ve put up with his lies for the rest of my life. All she thinks of is money. She is so stinking tight. For goodness sake, her used vacuum is your Christmas present. Unwrapped, filthy, and sitting under my Christmas tree.”
“Yeah.”
And why did she feel so horrible? If only he hadn’t been there when that horrid, horrid Ray showed his face. If she could just erase that five minutes and jump back in time, but she couldn’t. She slammed the last plate into the dishwasher.
“Easy on the china, there Hammertime. Those aren’t Mom’s hand-me down cheapies.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway, like when I was pregnant with Vivie…”
Marv caught her eye when he approached to hand her an empty glass, and he shook his head while his wife ranted, slinging left overs into plastic storage containers. Stormi gave a tight smile. Bless Marv’s heart. He was a saint.
ShaVonn paused a moment and she leaped on the opportunity. “I’m going to go get the girls if we’re ready to open gifts.”
ShaVonn shrugged. “Huh? Oh, yeah, okay, I guess.”
Stormi thankfully disappeared down the hallway.
***
Mid-January passed before Stormi opened the door to a frosted Ake. Snow cascaded behind him, threatening to stack the thick flakes to record highs. The man in front of her resembled a moving snowman, beard sporting small icicles, his dark eye brows covered with crystals. She yanked him inside the house, ignoring the wet snow th
at fell from him in hunks, and tugged him to the fireplace. He appeared more canvas-encased monster at this point, looking thicker than ever with layers of outerwear.
“Ake, what are you doing? You’re positively freezing.”
He huddled by the hearth for a few minutes, and she hurried to heat up some coffee. Her new machine spit out a boiling brew in a matter of minutes. By the time she’d returned, he’d seated himself on the stone hearth.
“What in the world are you doing here? It’s white-out conditions out there.”
With slow movements, he pulled the thick gloves from his hands and unzipped his thick canvas jacket. She grabbed the heavy wet coat and hung it on the coat tree near the door. When she turned, he had cupped his hands around the steaming coffee cup.
“Nice weather, huh?” A grin creased his wind-burned face.
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. He was plain adorable. Why try to tamp down the return smile or the surge of pleasure that stole through her? “Only you could find this weather pleasant.”
He raised a dark brow while pulling at the icicles hanging from his thick beard. “Good coffee.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she parked her fists on her hips. “Seriously, Ake. There’s not many people who would venture out in such a mess. What are you doing here?”
After a long drink and a java exhale of pleasure, he set the stoneware cup on the hearth and stood. “Couldn’t stop thinking of how cold you might be. I never did finish the insulation.”
“Oh, that.” The enthusiasm of seeing him faded as she remembered their last encounter. She probed his expression, but his dark eyes were on the framed-out wall. Not much showed in his expression. She yanked on her sleeves of her black turtleneck.
“Won’t take but a shake to finish it.” He strode forward, tool belt already in place.
“No, Ake. Honestly, how could you trudge over here just for that?”
But he’d already grabbed one of the giant rolls of insulation and sliced open the package. She tugged on her pointed bangs and wandered closer. Wasn’t it time to explain? Would he just start working as if nothing had wedged between them?
The Secret Storm Page 10
