Merry Humbug Christmas (31 page)

ignited over the yard. “Ohhh. You saw the goose in the oven?”

She nodded slowly.

“And it made you feel kind of sick.”

Faster nodding . . . wider eyes . . .

“And . . . the . . . string beans?”

“Yes!” she replied with insistence that lost him, and Damian just couldn’t translate.

“Yes,” he repeated.

“I threw up.”

“Because of the goose.”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Are you—”

“On the string beans.”

Okay. It’s coming together now.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “You . . . threw up
on the string beans
?”

Reese simply nodded frantically as tears popped into her eyes

and streamed down both cheeks. He tugged her into an embrace and

held her there, and she finally cried out into the lapel of his coat. “I puked all over Matthew’s string beans!”

Damian tried to hold it back; he really did. But the laughter sputtered out of him until Reese hauled off and socked him in the arm.

“Stop it.”

“Sorry.”

She pulled back and gazed into his eyes with raw emotion brim-

ming in hers. “That’s why we have to get our hands on a whole bush-elful of string beans, cleaned and ready to be boiled. Or grilled. Or whatever your mom does to them when she adds the . . . something.

Thyme and almonds?”

“Steamed. She steams them. Okay. I see.”

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“Can we? Can we go and get some string beans, Damie?”

“What, now?” he asked.

“C’mon,” she replied, yanking on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“Where are you going?” They both turned to find Damian’s mom

standing in the open doorway. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

Reese blinked a new stream of tears down her face and shook

her head. “Not really, Jeane. I feel just awful about the string beans.

But we’re going into town to see if we can find replacement beans.

Maybe Matthew won’t have to know.”

“Oh,” Jeane said sweetly, and she cocked her head to the side.

“I’m afraid he already knows.”

“They told him?”

Reese groaned and spun around on her heel, shielding her face

with both hands.

“Things like this happen,” his mom reassured her as she pulled

on Reese’s arm gently. “Hannah said it was Gerard that made you so sick?”

She groaned again and looked to Damian. “He had a . . .
name
, Damian!”

“Baby, the goose gets a name every year. It’s just a silly thing we do. It doesn’t mean—”

“That it was once alive?” she interrupted, almost whispering

through clenched teeth. “That it didn’t have a face before his head was
chopped off
?”

“I’m surprised you’re this squeamish,” Jeane said. “You being a

doctor and all . . .”

Damian shared a smile with his mother. “Reese’s parents are veg-

ans,” he explained. “She and her brother were raised on no meat or dairy.”

“Ohhh. You’re vegetarian?” she asked, concerned.

“No.”

“She didn’t follow the lifestyle,” he continued. “She eats meat.”

“I’ve just never . . . you know . . . seen anything like that close up

. . . in the oven . . .
baking
.”

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Merry

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Jeane chuckled. “I can imagine what a shock that was then. I’m

so sorry, dear. Had I known, I could have kept him . . .
it!
. . . I could have kept it covered.”

Reese wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand.

“No. You shouldn’t have to hide your goose from me.” Realizing how strange it sounded, she shared a reluctant laugh with mother and

son. “I mean, I just feel awful about the way things have gone since we arrived. I ran over one son with the car, and I threw up on the other one’s string beans, . . . and the dog absolutely hates me!”

“Paco doesn’t hate you. He just—”

“Mom,” Damian interrupted. “He peed on her.”

“Oh. Well. I guess he did.”

Reese giggled softly, and Jeane and Damian bubbled with

laughter.

“Poor child,” Jeane said, and she placed an arm around Reese’s

shoulder. “Come inside.”

“No, we might be able to find some string beans for the dinner.”

“We’ll be fine without green beans, Reese. You just come inside

and help the children string popcorn and cranberries for the tree while Damian’s father hangs the stockings on the mantle and I get dinner on the table. When it’s time to eat, I’m going to make you a nice green salad.”

“Mom,” Damian interjected, “she’s fine with meat. She eats meat

all the time.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe we could just carve the bird in the kitchen so she doesn’t have to look at it.”

“I’ll speak to your father.”

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On the ninth day of Christmas,

Murphy’s Law gave to me . . .

nine cornball sleigh rides,

eight geese a-roasting,

seven backs a-blazing,

six ER visits,

five frozen thiiiings!

four yapping dogs,

three wrenched necks,

two mismatched gloves,

and a big rockin’ Harry Winston ring.

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9

“There she is!” Matthew called out the instant Reese and

Damian appeared, and Reese’s heart sank. “Hey, Reese.

Wanna hear a joke about barfing?”

“Matthew!” Jeane exclaimed.

“Really, Mattie?” Courtney scolded.

“Ah, come on. It’s a really
sick joke
!” he teased.

“Enough,” Damian warned as he helped Reese out of her coat.

“I’m not kidding. Not another word.”

“Maybe just one?”

“Estúpido!”
Sofia snapped, and she hurried toward Reese and grabbed her by the hand. “Nobody else likes those beans anyways,

chica
. I’m replacing that
deesh
with a Puerto Rican specialty.
Verde del
arroz
. You’ll love it, and it’s already started.”

“What’s that mean, Aunt Sofia?” Hannah asked.

“It means ‘green rice,’” five-year-old Jeremy stated as he handed Sarah another cranberry for the string. “It’s yummy.”

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“Papi says Mama’s green rice is spicy just like she is,” Abigail

piped up, and Sofia chuckled.

“Yah, but I’m going to go easy on you
Americanos
.”

Reese pulsed with gratitude. The banter about green rice took

the focus off the single most humiliating moment of her entire life, even for just a few minutes. She had no delusions about the jokes that would no doubt ensue at her expense over every Christmas celebration for the rest of their married lives, but for this one instant she felt overwhelming thankfulness for the diversion of spicy Puerto Rican rice. She squeezed Sofia’s wrist as she passed her—just a quick, private gesture to let her know how much she appreciated the support.

“How about some eggnog, you two?” Jeane said as she approached

with two lovely glass mugs. Leaning in and whispering, she added,

“It’s store bought. No raw eggs involved. Just in case that’s relevant.”

Reese giggled and accepted the mug. “Thank you.”

Damian nudged her arm. “You okay?”

She nodded as Reggie strolled toward her and grabbed her arm.

“Why don’t we give you a chance to freshen up,” she suggested.

“Come on with me, huh?”

The two of them made their way back to their shared bedroom,

and Reggie fetched a washcloth doused in warm water. Taking the

eggnog from her hand, Reggie pressed the cloth to Reese’s forehead.

“Are you rethinking the wedding?” she asked with a lopsided

smile.

“No. But I hope Damian isn’t.”

“Are you kidding? The way that boy looks at you tells me he’s just praying he can get you to the altar before you run screaming into the snowy night.”

Reese sighed and closed her eyes, pushing the warmth of the

cloth against her skin.

“Honestly, I’ve never seen my brother so completely happy,”

Reggie said softly. “He loves you very much.”

Without opening her eyes, Reese smiled. “Thank God . . .

because I can’t imagine a life without him.”

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253

After a few minutes, she felt surprisingly refreshed. They chat-

ted about Reggie’s life back in Vermont while Reese repaired her

makeup and ran a brush through her hair.

“Are you ready to face the lions’ den again?”

“Not quite,” she replied with a smile. “I’d like to give my family a call before we sit down for dinner.”

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Reggie said. “See you out there.”

When she grinned at Reese from the doorway, Reggie’s pretty

brown eyes seemed to sparkle, and she looked so much like Damian

that Reese’s chest clenched with emotion.

“Thank you so much, Reggie.”

“Any time,” she replied. “We’re sisters now.”

Sisters.

Joss fluttered across Reese’s mind, and she wondered how the

cruise had shaped up for her best friend. She imagined Joss on

her
Bah! Humbug
Christmasless journey, surrounded by clear-blue waters and white sugar sand, sipping something fruity with a colorful little paper umbrella, probably wishing she’d done more abdominal crunches before putting on that swimsuit.

One particular escape fluttered across Reese’s thoughts.

Snickering at the recollection of an adult Joss evaporating into
Merry
Christmas Snow
—her former teenaged self—at the sight of a grown-up Keith Partridge after one of David Cassidy’s holiday shows in Las Vegas, Reese unplugged her cell phone from the charger. She had

snapped several pictures of Joss talking (or trying, at least!) to David Cassidy as they told him about their holiday tradition of avoiding Christmas together.

“There really is just something about the bond between women,

isn’t there?” he’d observed. “I hope you two have a beautiful time!”

As Joss floated off on a tropical bubble of thought, Reggie bobbed back into view. Reese had always been close to Hersch, and she often supposed that having a sister wouldn’t have been much different

from Hersch. But remembering Joss, and getting to know Reggie,

had ignited something—kindredship she hadn’t expected.

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What a total genius Keith Partridge grew into!
she thought.
There
really is something to the whole girl power thing.

Reese tried dialing Joss, but her friend’s voicemail picked up on the first ring.

“I miss you,” she said after the beep. “That’s all. I just miss you.”

Fortunately, Hersch beat his voicemail to the punch. “Is this my

sister calling on Christmas Eve?”

“It is,” she replied, and a mist of emotion rose in her eyes and

tingled over the bridge of her nose. “What’s up in Key West tonight?

What are you all doing?”

“I’m not eating Tofurkey, that’s for sure!” he exclaimed. “Mom

made a vegetable lasagna with tofu cheese that wasn’t half bad. How about you? How’s life with the Rockwells?”

“Ha!” she popped. “Well, not so
Rockwellesque
, I’m afraid.”

“No? McDreamy’s not all he’s cracked up to be?”

“Oh, Damian is dreamy, Hersch. But I don’t really fit in the way

I’d hoped.”

“Come on!” he blurted. “You? Name one person who doesn’t