Home in Time for Christmas

  “Hey—Christmas is impossible. It’s faith, and faith is impossible. Is it tangible? Can we touch it? No. Does that make us all a bunch of fools or liars? Melody, what I’m saying is—”

  “Keith! The truth of it all is this—he’s either an actor having a hell of a time, or he should sue me because he has really whacked his head. And I’ll find out he’s married. And he has four children, or something of the like.”

  Keith was quiet a minute. “Maybe you should just go ahead and think that way. Because you really can’t keep him. He isn’t a stray.”

  She flashed her brother an angry glance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Of course I know I can’t keep a man!”

  She winced. “I mean—”

  He laughed. “That didn’t come out quite right, did it? You can keep a man—evidently. You just wound up keeping one that you didn’t want, and now you want to keep the one that you can’t have.”

  She shook her head. “Give it up!”

  “No,” he said, his tone quiet and serious. “No, because…I believe him more every day. And I understand how he feels. And I intend to help him.”

  “Abracadabra! Magic. We’ll send him back,” she said. “Honestly, Keith—”

  “Honestly. You wait. Our mother will have thought of something.”

  “Great, yeah, wonderful, she can contrive with Dad, and between her potions and Dad’s experiments, we’ll just—heck, we could blow him up. Great. Then he’ll be in bits and pieces and we’ll all be in jail. It will be wonderful.”

  “You don’t want him to go back, do you?” Keith asked.

  “Keith, you’re missing my point. I just don’t believe that there is a past he can go back to. And it’s almost Christmas. We need to have a nice time for Christmas.”

  “What happens after Christmas? When it’s time to get back to the real world? Then we take him to a hospital, the police, a psychiatric ward?”

  “I just keep praying that he’ll figure out who he really is, and then…Keith, please, really. It would be easy. We could all fall for it, you, me and Mom. Because he is so believable. But, yes, I guess, if we don’t figure something out in the next few days…”

  To her surprise, her brother laughed. He reached over and tousled her hair.

  “Until then, I’ll just let you live the little dream.”

  “I’m not living any dream.”

  “You’re made for each other.”

  Melody swung on him. “I have to accept one thing. If we can’t get him to remember something by Christmas, I’ll have to bite the bullet. We’ll have to find out who he really is. I suppose I should have taken him to the hospital right off, but…I don’t know. I didn’t. It was cold, it was snowy…I was trying to get home.”

  They had reached their parents’ house. Keith turned off the car engine and turned to her.

  “Bizzare, preposterous, absurd. There’s still just something about him I believe. Maybe he’s doing the same thing. He’s really just trying to get home in time for Christmas.”

  “All right. Sure,” she said.

  “Smile.”

  “I am smiling.”

  Inside, they found Mona busy in the kitchen. She was working over a big spaghetti pot, but it didn’t smell like spaghetti sauce.

  “What’s cooking, Mom?” Melody asked.

  “Something weird,” Keith said. “Hey, Mom, you don’t need to cook dinner. The event is being catered. We saw all the trucks at the castle when we dropped Jake off.”

  “Never you mind, children. I’m working on something for the future,” Mona said.

  “What?” Melody asked her.

  “It’s a new recipe. I don’t want to be distracted.”

  Neither Melody nor Keith moved.

  Mona looked up at them. “Didn’t you hear me? Shoo—go away.”

  “Weird smell, Mom,” Melody said.

  “Herbs,” she said. “Some are very pungent.”

  “That’s not really something that we’re going to eat or drink, is it?” Keith asked worriedly.

  “Two seconds more, and I’ll find the frying pan and give you a whack,” Mona warned.

  “Mom, it is a bit—no, it’s very pungent.”

  “Not one of those aromas that lures you to the kitchen, for sure,” Keith agreed.

  “Go away,” Mona commanded. “I need to finish this, and then get ready for tonight. Oh, and remember, dress accordingly.”

  She pushed the two of them out of the kitchen. Heading down the hall, Keith looked at Melody. “What the heck is she steaming up in there? I don’t want to hurt her feelings—”

  “Too late, I think.”

  “Oh, please! You’d let that stuff touch your lips?” Keith demanded.

  “Maybe it’s for the dogs.”

  “Don’t wish it on the poor dogs.”

  “She’ll tell us when she’s ready, I guess.”

  “Wow, you can smell it down the hall. I think all the pets are hiding. Even a blind cat is too smart to hang in close.”

  “Forget it—let’s get dressed. I want to get back to the castle as soon as possible,” Melody said. “Come on, we have to dress ‘accordingly.’”

  “What’s accordingly? I have a feeling people will show up in all kinds of apparel.”

  “Probably. As far as Mom goes? I think we’re supposed to avoid red and green and Santa hats. I don’t know. The Wiccan stores I’ve been in around Christmas carry everything. I’m going to wear a long black velvet dress and that cape Mom bought for me in Salem years ago.”

  “Got a dress for me?” he teased.

  “Black. Basic black. You’ll be fine,” she said.

  Upstairs, they parted ways. Melody laid out her clothing, showered, and washed her hair. She realized she was giving particular attention to her hair and dress. Jake.

  She walked over to a snow globe music box her parents had bought for her, years ago in Orlando. Beauty and the Beast danced, standing in a field of snow.

  And red roses. The red roses were tiny hearts that fell with the snow when the globe was shaken.

  She watched the snow and the roses fall, and she thought about Jake, and then she realized that she did little else but think about Jake lately.

  She heard a noise in the hallway and stuck her head out, certain that Keith would be about to ask her if his apparel was appropriate and if he had dressed “accordingly.” But Keith wasn’t in the hall; it was her mother, and Mona was headed up the stairs to the attic.

  Melody started to call out to her, but waited. When Mona had gone up the draw-down steps, she followed.

  The attic was the type that might be found, certainly, in the Addams Family house. It was an absolute mishmash of old trunks and wardrobes, dressmaker’s dummies, modern-day cardboard, Christmas ornaments that didn’t make the yearly cut, a giant Easter bunny, dressers her father intended to fix one day, and toys. They’d never parted with anything; Mona loved it all too much. Many of the things were decades—even centuries old.

  There were spaces that resembled ragged paths that led between much of the chaos. Mona had made her way to the far back; Melody followed her, nearly tripping over a huge elk head—the prize of some hunter who had lived in the house long ago.

  “Mom! What are you doing?”

  Mona had been intent on her task, whatever it was. At the sound of Melody’s voice, she let out a shriek. She had just opened one of the old trunks; it fell shut with a slam.

  “What? What’s going on? Why are following me?” Mona demanded indignantly.

  “I’m not following you,” Melody protested.

  “Yes, you are, you’re following me—that’s exactly what you’re doing!” Mona said.

  “I…well, I thought you might need help. It’s time we should be heading on out, so I just thought you might need help with something up here,” Melody said.

  Mona shook her head. “You don’t need to follow me around like a puppy.”

  “Mom—”

  “It
is time to go. Let’s just go,” Mona said.

  “But what were you looking for?” Melody asked. “Nothing.”

  “Mom, you had to have been—”

  “You know, Melody, it is my attic. My house, and my attic.”

  “Well, of course, but—”

  “Let’s just get going. I can dig around in here tomorrow. I was just looking for some old books. Honestly, time flies. Years ago, I meant to seriously dig into all the treasures that came with this attic, and time goes by, and you haven’t done half the things you planned. Anyway, let’s not be the last to arrive. I hate to be the first, but I do like to arrive in a kind of socially timely manner.”

  Mona moved to get around Melody, balancing with her hands on her daughter’s waist, since the paths were hardly wide. It was also a crafty way to keep a hand on Melody and steer her back out of the attic.

  “Mom, seriously, what are you up to?” Melody asked her.

  “When I’m ready, I’ll tell you—and not before,” Mona said stubbornly. “Come on, let’s get going. You don’t want any of those Wiccans getting their hands on Jake when the band takes a break, eh?” Mona asked.

  “Will there be anyone there besides Wiccans?” Melody asked worriedly.

  “Oh, yes. Christians. And our Jewish neighbors, and new Muslim folk in the area, Hindus, Confucians—I don’t know! Everyone is invited. Invited to buy tickets. This is America! Land of the free—and the capitalists!”

  Melody smiled. “Good. Maybe we’re safe.”

  She let her mother breathe a sigh of relief as she gave in and headed down the attic stairs ahead of her. Mona followed quickly. “Are you wearing your cape? How beautiful, darling.”

  “Yes, I’m wearing it. I truly love my cape, Mom. Thanks. I don’t get the chance to wear it that often.” She smiled suddenly, giving her mother a hug.

  “Keith, George!” Mona called.

  Neither replied.

  From the rear window of Keith’s room—which they could see from the upstairs hallway—they saw a giant flash of light appear across the backyard.

  “Oh, God!” Melody gasped with horror. “Was Dad out in the lab?”

  They looked at one another and tore for the stairs, racing down quickly and knocking into each in their hurry to make it out the back door.

  George was there, outside his laboratory, in the yard. Keith stood across the grass from him. There was nothing burning at all.

  “What was that?” Mona demanded.

  “Dad?” Melody said.

  “It was a wave. Or a frequency. A frequency combined with a wave,” Keith said.

  “And what did it do?” Melody asked.

  “It…flashed,” her father said.

  “It flashed in only one place,” Keith reminded him.

  George looked over at Mona and flushed. “Yes, only one place. Right around the old well.”

  It looked as if her father thought that the explanation might just mean something to her mother. What, she had no idea. The old well had been covered up for years before they had moved into the place. It was rather charming; the stonewall base could still be seen, and every owner had kept up the old arborlike structure that curved above it, where, in spring and summer, ivy crawled and flowers bloomed.

  She wondered how her father had created the waves and frequencies that he had somehow mated, then saw that there was some kind of machine that resembled a fog machine near Keith’s feet and another just behind her father.

  It looked as if they were playing at being Ghostbusters; they were only missing the outfits.

  Indeed, they had both opted for black, and looked rather handsome, she thought. Her father had on a long cape, much like Melody’s own and purchased in Salem as well, while Keith was wearing something that looked more like a Georgian frock coat.

  She was suddenly grateful that Mark wasn’t due until tomorrow.

  She could just imagine what he would have to say about her crazy family.

  “Do you need to…zap it again?” Mona asked.

  George shook his head. “No, no…we need a bit more experimentation. That’s all.”

  “And how? What kind of experimentation?” Mona asked.

  “There are many different theories that can be tested,” Keith said.

  Melody suddenly felt as if they were all speaking a foreign language, and she was not in any way in on the secret.

  “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

  “I’m experimenting—I’m always experimenting,” George said, looking at her quizzically.

  Maybe she was wrong.

  “We should get going. Really,” Keith said, clearing his throat.

  “Yes, yes, of course. Girls, get your coats,” George said.

  Melody was still suspicious, but she was anxious to get back to the castle. The concept of Jake with one Wiccan was scary, much less the dozens that would be there.

  Then again, what could be weirder than her own household?

  As they arrived at the castle grounds and were directed to park, Melody saw the huge tree that stood on the snow-covered lawn just before the cliffs that rose in back.

  “The Christmas tree is actually an old German tradition, right?” she murmured to her father.

  “Yes,” George said. “The first ones apparently showed up in several towns at the same time, in front of guildhalls, I believe. There’s a German church record of one being erected in the mid-1500s.”

  “Ah, but there was big trouble regarding trees for many years and in many places,” Mona said. “Some of the stricter church folk back then saw them as a pagan symbol. The time of our Christian holidays revolves around the ancient dates of the Roman Saturnalia and winter solstice of the Druids,” Mona said.

  “There are angels on the tree,” Melody noted.

  “Ah, because we all pray there are really angels watching over us, don’t we?” Her mother said. “The tree goes with the castle. The folks who run the castle had the tree decorated. Let’s head on in.”

  They found themselves entering in a throng of people. As they walked, Mona and George responded to friends and neighbors who hailed them. Melody and Keith knew most of them, but not all, and so they were introduced. As they neared the entry, they could hear the band playing within, an Irish ballad at the moment.

  “Mona!” The Wiccan hostess at the door—dressed similarly to Melody, but in a fuller black skirt beneath her sweeping cape—greeted her mother affectionately.

  “Peggy!” Mona said, hugging her fiercely. “How’s the shop going? Well, I hope. You know my husband, George, right?”

  “Oh, yes,” Peggy said, studying George. He must have given her his “medium—what about rare and well done” joke at some time.

  “And my children are home for the holidays,” Mona said. “My daughter, Melody, and my son, Keith. Please meet Peggy Winston, our official hostess for the evening. And high priestess, of course.”

  “Of course,” George said solemnly. Apparently, he meant to keep his good-behavior promise for the evening.

  “A pleasure,” Keith said.

  “Nice to meet you, Peggy,” Melody assured her.

  “Well, come in, come in, it’s all going beautifully. Wonderful band, eh? Oh, you have a family friend playing in it tonight, right? The very handsome young man who is new to the group said that he’s a guest staying with you,” Peggy said.

  “Yes, yes,” Melody replied for her mother. “Oh, no, I believe we’re blocking the path. Jake is a doll, a good friend, an old friend. From Boston. He didn’t always live there though. We really should let you greet your other guests. He’s a historian. Amazing fellow. We should move—”

  Keith sent an elbow into her rib cage, catching her hand and leading her on in.

  “Boy, are you slick!” he whispered to her.

  “They’ve already been talking to him,” Melody said, alarmed. “We’d better get in front of the band.”

  “You go get in front of the band. Now that we’re out of the house
and I can no longer smell Mom’s herbal concoction, I’m starving. I’m off to find the food.”

  “Traitor!” she told him.

  “Yes, but a hungry traitor.”

  He waved a hand and left her. She made her way downstairs to the open area where the band was playing.

  The castle was real, having been brought to the States from Europe by a millionaire. It was Gothic in appearance with a treasure trove of antiques, though many had been taken to safety for the evening. The paintings and statues were gone, so nothing could detract from the beige stone walls and marble of the architecture. The band set up on a level just two steps above the main floor, while flanking staircases brought the guests up to the level above, where drinks were being served, and the balcony, open to the night, could be ambled. Melody noted that there were signs advising guests that there were mediums present, those who read cards and palms, tea leaves and crystal balls. They were advisers, so the signs claimed—and their services were an extra charge.

  There were already lines leading to the rooms where the various readings were taking place.

  She knew, of course, that Jake couldn’t be seeking any Wiccan counsel at the moment—he was onstage playing.

  She wove her way through the crowd of people, dressed mostly in Gothic capes, but some in Christmas finery as well, and made it to the stage.

  Jake was playing violin at the moment. His eyes were closed, as if he was feeling the music. She marveled at his talent, and was startled when she discovered that her brother was behind her. “Hey, they were holed up all winter with no television, no Wii, no Movies On Demand. Kind of cool to think about, in a way. Folks learned instruments, read and probably even talked to one another,” Keith said.

  “He’s really good, huh?” she said a little wistfully.

  Keith smiled at her. “Yeah. Mozzarella stick?” She remembered he had gone for food; he carried a plate.

  She shook her head, her eyes still on the band.

  Jake’s eyes opened then. And they were on her.

  She smiled, and he smiled in return.

  The band leader announced a break at the end of the tune. Jake set his instrument down and hopped to her level. He greeted her setting his hands on her shoulders and pulling her close a moment for a kiss on her cheek. He shook her brother’s hand.