The Battered Heiress Blues

15





The morning had brought a bit more clarity regarding the battle ahead. In order to save Emma Grace, I would have to learn to love my bed. Christmas had snuck up on me and no preparations had been made. I hadn’t ordered a tree or bought the first present. This year would be spectacular, sharing it with the Martin family. The thought of seeing Mattie open his gifts, with his new found emotions, made me excited. It was quite possible that this would turn out to be the best Christmas ever.

There was one task ahead of me that I was dreading. Gabe had the right to know that Kate and Henry stopped by last evening. The shock and awe on their faces only solidified my inclination that our body language had sent a deceptive message to our visitors. I could hardly blame them for rushing to judgment. If the tables had been turned, I would have been less forgiving, ranting and raving before leaving, though I would never admit that to anyone. Their silence cut through me like a knife. They weren’t interested in discerning intent. They were sickened by what they saw and made haste to put as much distance between them and us as possible.

Mattie appeared in my doorway with Ms. Martin, helping to deliver blueberry pancakes. He was easily persuaded to stay and watch Saturday morning cartoons with me. Unless you rearranged his things, Mattie was the most peaceful person on the planet. His company had a calming effect. I could tell he was bored when he started rocking. Reaching into the night table drawer, I pulled out a satin bag full of treasures for him to play with. The bag was heavy, containing Tommy’s old marble collection. He stared at the bag for ten minutes before placing it in front of me- a sign that I should open it and divulge its contents. When they spilled out on my bed, he became engrossed at examining their colors and sizes. He was thrilled which made my heart beat joyfully. As he methodically categorized his new collection, Gabe walked through the door.

“Here you are. Is he keeping you up?”

“No. I’ve been confined to bed for four hours and I’m already bored.”

“Tough luck.” He sat down next to Mattie, smiling at his own humor, and began fiddling with the marbles. “What’s all this?”

“Tommy’s old marble collection.”

“Tommy may not want us to play with those, Mattie.”

“I gave them to him. Tommy is a grown man who will be having no children. He’d be thrilled to know that someone was getting some use out of his old things. Really.”

“Well let’s see what you’ve got there, Mattie.”

He separated all the blue marbles into a pile and spoke his new word for us again. I would never tire of hearing the word blue. It made me want to purchase every blue object I could get my hands on.

“We need to have a big person conversation,” I said, hesitantly.

“That sounds ominous.”

“Something happened last night.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.”

“Not that. We had some visitors. Help me out onto the veranda so we don’t disturb Mattie’s cartoons.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“The doctor said limited walking. The veranda is only ten feet. Give me a break.”

“All right. Up you go.”

Gabe pulled me forward from my reclined position against the mountain of pillows under me and helped me stand. The sun was breaking through the clouds in visible beams of light, but the air remained crisp. The comforter he brought out was tightly wrapped around me. I felt like a burrito. My feet were swept up onto a pillow which he’d placed on the coffee table.

“I’m warm enough. Relax. You promised not to smother.”

“It’s December, Julia.”

“You’re in the South, Gabe. I’m used to brutal New York winters. This is nothing.”

“None the less…you’re warm. I’m happy. What’s up? Your talks are never good.”

“Why do people keep saying that?”

“History, doll.”

“Well, you may have a point. This isn’t pleasant news.”

“Spit it out. Be direct. I can take it.”

He sat down next to me, tossing his feet up next to mine. I had qualms about telling him, but he had a right to chase down Kate and set the story straight if he so chose. He nodded his head as if egging me on to spill the beans.

“We had visitors last night.”

“You said that already. Who?”

“Kate and Henry were here.”

“In this house?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I heard a noise and woke up to find your arm slung over my waist-”

“Yeah, sorry about that…”

“No matter, but when I looked toward the noise of the creaking door, Henry and Kate were standing there with an awful look on their faces, imagining that we were together, I suppose. I can’t blame them really, considering our close proximity to one another and the fact that we were in my bed.”

“Mattie was between us. What did they say?”

“It never came to that. I didn’t have much time to consider stopping them. Kate ran off immediately and Henry only lingered for a minute at most. I was torn. I didn’t want to startle Mattie.”

“That’s the real reason you didn’t go after them?” he inquired with skepticism in his voice.

“Okay. No. The truth is that I didn’t want Henry to know about the baby…not yet, but I realize now, that Kate must be thinking something dreadful about us…about me…and I think my decision has sealed your fate with her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were on her way back to London today. We’re both runners.”

“I see. Well, if she cared enough to fight for me, she would have stayed and made her stand. She left. Like you said, she doesn’t care enough.”

“Oh God. Did I say that?”

“Before, when you were explaining why she went to New York when her brother beckoned.”

“I’m an idiot. That was a poor choice of words, Gabe. I saw the look in her eyes last night. She does care enough. The pain on her face was excruciating to witness. Don’t form any opinions based on the observations of someone with my inept senses. Perhaps, you need to find her and have it out. Let your heart be the judge.”

“I appreciate the back pedaling, Julia, but what would be the point? The bottom line is that she left. You don’t do that if you love someone… you stay and fight.”

“Not always. Some of us flee.”

“Fleeing is for cowards.”

“You won’t get an argument on that point from me. Even still, you’ll never have closure until you hash it out with Kate. You’ll always wonder.”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it over Christmas.”

“Do that…give it some dedicated thought.”

“What’s on tap for today?” he inquired, intentionally closing the subject of Kate.

“Are you trying to be mean? Rub it in, why don’t you.”

“What?”

“I guess I’ll be holding down the bed today…and tomorrow…and the day after that…”

“Sorry.”

“You are sorry.”

“Have you thought about a Christmas tree? We’ll be the only family having a Charlie Brown Christmas if we don’t buy one soon.”

“I was just thinking about that this morning.”

“Mattie and I will go and pick one out,” he offered.

“Mr. Burney, down at Burney’s Nursery will deliver and set it up. I’ll call ahead.”

“I can afford to buy a tree, Julia.”

“I know. I know, but Mr. Burney and I do business every year and we have a system. He relies on my financial patronage every season. He’s probably waiting by the phone. He’ll send a crew over to wrap garland on the veranda railings and they’ll hang wreaths for me in the windows. You can buy a tree for the cottage if you’re dying to spend your own money.”

“Okay. Far be it for me to mess with tradition. We’ll be back in an hour. Do we need tree trimmings?”

“Heavens no. I have enough in the attic for this tree and the one you buy for the cottage.”

“Let’s go. Get up. Back to bed,” he insisted.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really. No.”

Gabe pulled me up and held the back of the comforter off the ground as we processed inside. He was starting to feel like my lady in waiting and it was only the first day of prison. He needed a new occupation. He needed Kate.

“There’s a wooden board in Tommy’s room that has holes for separating and displaying the marbles. Would you get it? It’s in his closet on the third shelf.”

Mattie had all of the marbles in a particular order and I knew that I would disturb them with my moving in the bed. The board would keep them separated, orderly, and portable. Gabe returned and sat down next to Mattie. I carefully picked up one marble and put it in one section, waiting to see if he would become angry. Of his own volition, he picked up another and placed it in a different holder. We patiently waited for him to find a spot for every last marble. Gabe stood, holding the board and offered it to Mattie. He followed him out of my room and downstairs so they could leave for the nursery.

Time passed more slowly with my confinement. I spent the better part of the hour thinking about Kate. After calling Mr. Burney to make arrangements for our Christmas decorations, I finally decided to call her, in an effort to smooth things over for Gabe. She didn’t answer her phone which was no great surprise. She was a lot like me. We were the sort that required a cooling off period. If pressured, nuclear fallout would occur. The sweetness of her tone on voicemail certainly didn’t match her current mood, after last evening. I plowed ahead, leaving a wandering message about what she thought she saw.

“Kate. It’s me, Jewels. About last night…what you thought you saw, you didn’t see. Mattie spends the nights with me when Gabe works late. That’s all. They crash in Tommy’s room. Last night, he must have sat down to watch television and ended up falling asleep next to us. There is nothing going on. If you would have stayed, you would have known that, but you left, jumping to conclusions…like always. Gabe’s a brother to me, despite what your wild imagination has been dreaming up. You’re too hasty….”

Beep. How dare that voice mail cut me off? Redial.

“I wasn’t done. Furthermore, your secret is safe. Gabe has no idea that you are a big coward about Mattie’s autism- a serious shortcoming on your part. Get over yourself. I mean, who gives a rip if people stare a little. You love attention. And by the way, I lied for you. That’s the kind of friend I am. I put your future happiness first in the hopes that you would stop being a stuck up Brit and come back to Gabe. The fact that you would think that I would ever be involved with a man that you had even the least bit of feelings for, makes you a mean bitch. You don’t deserve my friendship.”

Beep. Redial.

“Your paranoia is making you miss out on one spectacular Christmas in Savannah with my new family, the Martins’. They could have been your new family if you weren’t so damn ridiculous. Wish you were here. Hope you have a bloody good Christmas in New York with Henry and that twit Tricia. Yeah, I know about her. Be sure to send my best to your brother; me choosing me never felt so good.”

Beep. Not again.

“Love you. Goodbye. And God save the Queen.”

Click.

Wow that felt good. I hope it still felt good an hour from now when I had time to regret making the call. I waddled to the bathroom to take a shower before the boys returned. I knew that I would be banished to the couch to watch everyone else decorate the house.

A few more months had to pass before I would be able to hold my Emma. All of the excitement permeating through my mom’s old house made me wish that she were around to take in my fat belly and guarded joy. She was a lover of the holidays. Mr. Burney had held a torch for my mom since they were in kindergarten. My grandfather was very particular about who she spent time with. He’d never let her openly associate with Ned Burney; the son of a farmer. An imprudent match would not be tolerated. The last Christmas I spent in Savannah, he regaled stories of my mom’s kindness, generosity, and friendship. He told me that she once presented him with a check to expand his business when she heard that the banks had turned him down for a loan. She was inspiring. I longed to be more like her.

I made a bed on the couch in the drawing room, where we had always set up the tree. Just imagining the hustle and bustle created by watching my new friends trim the tree made me giggle with delight. No one could see the house from the road, but it always brought me great pleasure to drive up and see the Frasier Fir pouring light through the drawing room window. The front door opened.

“I’m in here Gabe,” I called out.

“Julia?”

“Tommy?”

What was he doing here? My brother came around the corner and looked comforted to lay his eyes on me. Wearing his usual priestly frocks, he sat next to me studying my face. His own relaxed expression became pensive as he searched for words.

“I thought you were coming next week for Christmas?”

“I had to come early.”

“Had to…what does that mean?”

Tommy started wringing his hands and looking back towards the door. He was obviously nervous. I grabbed his hand to try and calm him.

“Since Connor’s funeral, Dad and I have been talking- a little bit.”

“That’s good…I guess. Has he been playing nice?” I moved closer to him, growing concerned about the internal battle that was betrayed by the expression on his face. He was purposefully hesitating and I was beginning to feel sorry for his anguish.

“He reached out, Julia, and I’ve been trying to meet him halfway.”

“What’s wrong, Tommy?”

“I’ve done something, albeit unintentional. You’re going to be awfully mad at me.”

“Why?” I leaned forward anticipating the worst, but hoping for the best.

“I told Dad about your bleeding scare and the bed rest. I let it slip that you called me at three in the morning and he became concerned. I swore him to secrecy. He won’t tell anyone. He doesn’t know the baby is Henry’s. That bit of news I’ve left to you.”

“Tommy,” I chastised.

“I’m not done. That’s not the worst of it, unfortunately.”

“How could there be more?”

“He’s here,” he added with fear in his voice.

“Here, here?”

I felt the blood drain from my face.

“Here, here…in the car.”

I winced. I wasn’t ready for all of this. I certainly wasn’t prepared for a Christmas with my father. I hadn’t spent a holiday with him since I left for college over a decade ago.

“How is this going to fit in with keeping my stress level low?”

“He has promised not to be difficult. He’s your father, Julia. He’s concerned.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Bitterness doesn’t become you.”

“Call it what you will. I have a very long memory. I could refresh yours if you’d like.”

“Look, he won’t stay if you don’t want him to. He just wants to see for himself that you’re okay.”

“Oh, you owe me…big time. Help me up.”

As I uncovered myself, Tommy pulled me to my feet, exaggerating the effort it took to get me vertical.

“You’re huge,” he gasped.

“It’s a good thing God predestined you to the priesthood because you’d never make it with women.”

I gave him a well deserved smack as I walked to the front door, trying to call to mind my mom’s attributes; the kind Ned Burney pontificated about. Knowing I lacked her compassion and grace, I opted to shoot for civil. Ruining everyone else’s Christmas with private family battles was unfair. I opened the front door and saw him sitting in the passenger side of the car. I turned back to Tommy and grimaced, belly aching in a low tone so he could hear my disgust and disapproval of his most serious screw up to date. Turning toward my father, I tried to appear congenial. When John saw me, he opened the door and cautiously swung his legs out. I moved forward to the edge of the veranda, trying to seem welcoming.

“Father.”

He rose from the car and walked to me, slowly, as if expecting another onslaught of insults; the kind he endured leaving Connor’s funeral. I suddenly became aware of how horrid I must look. Months had passed since my face was masked in make-up. My hair was still pulled up and I was in my pajamas. Similar attire had solicited a nasty response from him during his last trip here.

“You look good…nice and healthy.”

He was carrying a bag which he held out as an olive branch.

“I brought you some pajamas, books, and movies to help pass the time on bed rest. I bought them myself. No one knows.”

“Thank you. That was very thoughtful.” I wanted to add that it was very unlike him, but I figured that was just the mean spirit of my hormones talking so I remained quiet. “How long can you stay?”

“For Christmas if I’m invited?”

“This is your home too. Should I move out of Mom’s room for you?”

“No. No. Any room will do. It has been a long time since I slept in this house.”

“Yes it has. Come in out of the cold.”

As my father walked ahead of us, I gave Tommy that eat shit and die look; the one from our childhood that signaled to the other that they should sleep with one eye open. He snickered back in reply as if his evil plan was working

“Where is everyone?” Tommy inquired.

“They’ve gone to Mr. Burney’s nursery to pick out a tree.”

John seemed curious about my new friends.

“Who are the Martins’- these people you have taken under your wing? I’ve heard your brother and Henry talk about them.”

“They rent the cottage. Gabe is the Sheriff and he has one son- four years old. John, Mattie has autism. He’s different and amazing all at the same time. He’s important to me. I hope you’ll be nice to him- to them. They’ve become family to me.”

“Of course I’ll be nice. I’m glad you’ve found friends here. I’m appreciative of the support they’ve given you in my absence.”

-In his absence? My entire lifetime could cover his absence. Tommy interrupted my emotions that were on the verge of boiling over.

“Where is Ms. Martin?” Tommy asked.

“Ms. Martin? The sheriff is married?” John seemed confused.

“No. Ms. Martin is Gabe’s mom. She is a registered nurse. I hired her to look after me and the baby once she’s born.”

As if heaven sent, the Martin family made their entrance, interrupting our contrived, heartfelt conversation. I must have had that disconcerting look on my face because Gabe flew into protective mode, unable to see Tommy sitting in the corner.

“We have a guest? Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m Julia’s father. And you are?”

“Ah, pleasure to meet you. Gabe Martin and this is Mattie. I didn’t know you were coming for a visit. Hi, Tommy.”

“Gabe. Thanks for looking after my sister so well. I owe you a large debt of gratitude; especially your mom.”

“No trouble…except for the occasional mood swings and stubbornness.”

“Watch it,” I pointed at him.

Mattie walked over to me and held up his marbles.

“Look, Tommy. Your marbles have found a new home.”

“I’m so grateful, Mattie. I have an entire closet full of good stuff for you. Why don’t you and your dad come with me? We’ll find some new treasures.”

“Oh, you’re about to surpass Jewels as his favorite person,” he quipped.

“Not possible,” I firmly stated.

“Mr. Spencer, would you be so kind as to help my mom with the groceries?”

“That would be no trouble. I would be happy to. Please call me John.”

“Thank you. Let’s go Mattie. Tommy has some toys for us to take apart.”

I had a few minutes of silence to collect my thoughts. I had anticipated telling my father at some point, but not at Christmas, and not before I had prepared some grand speech to break the news. He didn’t seem disappointed in me which was surprising. He didn’t comment on my appearance which was shocking. He seemed different. I couldn’t put my finger on the changes, but they were evident in his amiable words.

John entered the house loaded down with brown bags. I tried to take one from him but he wouldn’t hear of it. He ordered me back to the couch and I was quickly reminded that he was still my father. His admonishment took me back to age six. Naturally, I complied. His tone was lighter and he bashfully smiled as he took directions from Ms. Martin. As they disappeared into the kitchen, another knock at the door brought me to my feet.

“Sit down,” Tommy’s voice ordered from behind me.

“Yes sir, Tommy sir,” I sniped back irritated. Was this the army, or what?

“Better yet…go upstairs and rest. We’ll call you when we’re ready to do the tree.”

Mr. Burney’s crew had descended on the house. Within three hours, every interior staircase was wrapped with lighted garland and red and green ribbons. Electric candles were placed in every window and wreaths hung on the exterior. The verandas were magically illuminated with colorful lights; my gift to Mattie. I couldn’t help but go against tradition this year. I was a white light girl, but Mattie lived in Technicolor. Smiles were painted on everyone’s face- even my father’s. Perhaps, this would be a Christmas to heal old wounds.