Celebration (33 page)

He was home.

Logan drove slowly down the long driveway that led to the farm and the main house. He sighed wearily when he saw the lights of the house. As he drew closer, he saw the colored Christmas lights strung across the wide front porch. There were lights everywhere, spotlights, lights on the outbuildings, but it was the lights from the big farmhouse that drew his attention. He thought he could see a twinkling Christmas tree through the swirling snow. He frowned, deep grooves etching his forehead. Five vehicles. Four too many. The frown deepened. Company? Who? The kids? Who else? He could feel his heart rate speed up. What did it matter who was inside? Kristine would throw herself at him, and that would be that. Everything else would fall into place.

Presents. The diamond bracelet he'd bought for Kristine was in his coat pocket. The top-of-the-line skis for the kids were in the back with bright red bows. If he struggled, he should be able to carry all three pairs up the steps to the back porch. He had a moment of indecision when he couldn't make up his mind if he should knock or just walk in. As the newly appointed head of the household, he would open the door and walk in. A husband and father belonged. There was no formality to adhere to.

Logan was on the back porch, shifting the skis from one shoulder to the other when he froze as the most bloodcurdling sound struck him dumb in his tracks. He had a clear view of the kitchen through the window. Animals came from everywhere, big ones, small ones, medium-sized ones, their teeth bared as they slammed into the back door. He backed up, his heart thundering in his chest. What the hell was going on here? He saw small children, strangers, and Kristine holding hot dogs on sticks, their eyes glued to the kitchen door and the wild animals.

He listened to the panicked voices shouting that someone was at the door while other voices tried to calm the dogs. He hated dogs. Always had and always would. He waited, the cold air searing his lungs as he fought to take deep, even breaths to calm his nerves.

And then there was total, thundering silence. Logan felt himself flinch. He watched as Kristine walked, as though in slow motion, to the back door, the stick with the hot dog still in her hand, Mike and Tyler on each side of her. The door opened slightly and then the wild wind blew it against the side of the door.

“Logan!”

“Dad,” the boys said in unison, disbelief registering on their faces.

“Oh, shit,” Woodie muttered to Pete, who was standing next to him, his mouth hanging open.

“Aren't you eight years too late?” Cala said bitterly.

“Whozat?” Emily and Ellie squealed.

The dogs reared up again, teeth bared, tails between their legs.

“Logan,” Kristine said a second time.

“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Logan said jovially.

Kristine stared at the man in the open doorway. In the blink of an eye, the last eight years of her life flashed before her. This couldn't be Logan. He couldn't just appear and say, “Merry Christmas,” like nothing happened, eight years late. No, this wasn't real. This was a bad dream she was having after the exhaustion and the trauma of the day. She poked the stick holding the hot dog against her leg. She felt the pain. It was no dream. It really was Logan, and he was standing in her kitchen. She needed to say something, and she needed to say it quickly.

“Close the door, Logan,” she said with barely a catch in her voice. She watched as her ex-husband's eyes narrowed to slits. In the old days it would have been a warning for her to shut up and do whatever it was he wanted. The old days were long gone. “What do you want, Logan? Why are you here?”

“I wanted to come home. I wanted to see my family. Do you mind if I take off my coat?”

“Yes, I do mind. I think we all mind. You don't belong here. You deserted us. I don't owe you anything, and my children don't owe you anything.”

Logan ignored Kristine's words. He advanced into the kitchen and removed his jacket.
This is not going according to plan,
he thought uneasily.
This isn't the Kristine I remember. Not the Kristine I could bamboozle just by looking at her.
His stomach tightened into a hard knot when he turned to see the hate-filled eyes of his children. He addressed his wife. “I think you need to tell me what's going on here. What are all these animals doing here? Don't I deserve to be introduced to these strange people in my kitchen?”

“No.”

“No?” Logan moved around, offering his hand, which no one reached for. “I'm Logan Kelly. Kristine's husband.”

“I had you declared legally dead, Logan. After I divorced you. This is my house, not yours. I'd like you to leave. You spoiled too many holidays for us, and I won't allow you to spoil this one.”

Of all the things in the world Kristine could have said, this was the most unexpected. He could see his plans falling apart. “Obviously, you were premature, Kristine. I'm here. I'm alive. What you did will be invalid.”
Fall back and regroup
, his mind shrieked.
Plan B is just as good as Plan A.
The only problem was he hadn't gotten around to forming Plan B. Bluff it out. He'd always been good at that.

“It will hold up in any court of law. I made sure of that. Where's my money, Logan?”

“Right here, honey. I didn't touch it.” Carefully, so the animals didn't spring in his direction, Logan carefully withdrew an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “Your eight million dollars plus interest and your personal-checking-account monies. There's a long story behind it we can discuss another time.”

“Keep it and leave.”

This was definitely not going according to plan. Who in her right mind would turn down money like this? Certainly no one he knew or would care to know. When Kristine refused to touch the envelope, he laid it on the kitchen table. “You didn't answer my question, Kristine, what are these animals doing in the house?” Of course she didn't need the money, she had bushels of it now, thanks to her inheritance. “I'm rather tired. Which room is mine? You really fixed up this rattrap. I didn't think it was possible to salvage it.”

“All our rooms are filled. The apartment over the garage is full of animals. There's no heat in the barns, but there is lots of straw. There are no extra blankets or quilts. If you don't like the idea of the barn, you can sleep leaning up against the wall. I want you out of here as soon as it gets light.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“See that corner of the wall by the fireplace? That's your spot. The dogs won't allow you to move. Get it through your head, Logan. You don't belong to this family anymore. Take it or leave it.”

In the blink of an eye, Jack Valarian had Logan by the shoulders and propelled him to the designated wall. A hundred-and-thirty-pound black Lab named Sugar followed them, her teeth gleaming pearl white in the kitchen light.

“Good going, big guy,” Pete hissed in Jack's ear. “I didn't think you had it in you.”

“I hate that son of a bitch,” Jack hissed back.

Shaken to her soul, Kristine looked around at her family. “All right, let's finish our weenies and marshmallows and retire to the living room, where we will sing our carols, drink our eggnog, and open our presents. It's Christmas Eve, and we're going to . . . to celebrate.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw total disbelief and hatred on her ex-husband's face.
So there, Logan. So there.
She wondered if anyone noticed how badly she was shaking.

“Are we just going to pretend he isn't here?” Cala asked.

“Yes, unless you can come up with something better,” Kristine whispered in return. “We'll talk about it in the living room. I think I'm in shock. No, that's not true, I know I'm in shock.”

“Mom, what about Woodie? His eyes are glazed. Now, that's shock,” Tyler said.

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah, oh, God.”

“I have an idea,” Carol said. “Jack and I will do the weenies and bring them into the living room. Pete can bring in the little tables with the Jell-O and eggnog. You guys organize the dogs and the presents. It won't take long, the fire's really hot.”

“Bless your heart, Carol. It's a great idea.” Anything to get away from Logan's penetrating eyes.

“Come on, kids, we have to fix the dogs' beds and get ready to sing ‘Jingle Bells!' ”

“I love ‘Jingle Bells,' ” Ellie said, as Woodie scooped her up and onto his shoulders. Mike grabbed a giggling Emily and did the same thing.

The dogs voiced their disapproval as the little people suddenly turned to giants. Suddenly every dog in the house was chasing after one another. They leaped over furniture, stomped on presents, lifted their legs, squatted, howled, and barked.

The moment Mike set Emily on the floor, the house grew quiet. “Everybody lie down,” the little girl said, clapping her hands. “I need more treats, Grandma,” she said.

Treats meant she had to go back to the kitchen, something she didn't want to do.

“I have an idea, Emily. Since this is Christmas Eve, why don't we cut up some of these nice hot dogs Aunt Carol made and share them with our friends.”

“Oh, goody,” Emily said.

“Woodie, please don't look at me like that. Say something. Please.”

“I don't know what to say, Kristine. In a million years I never thought this would happen. I guess I want to know what you think and feel. Your kids are in a state of shock. Hell, I'm in a state of shock myself.”

“I know. Like you said, in a million years I never thought this would happen. He's here, and he brought the money. It must mean something. I knew it was all too perfect. For weeks now I've been waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know that sounds crazy. Right now I feel like I should be carted off to the mental ward.”

“I'll tell you what I think it means. I think he came back for the rest of it. For all you know, the checks could bounce. I'm just assuming they are checks. What are you going to do, Kristine?”

“I'm not going to do anything. You know that old saying. When you don't know what to do, do nothing. We're divorced, Woodie. I guess the part about me having him declared dead is going to be a problem. The way I see it, it's his problem. What should I do about the kids?”

“Nothing. They aren't kids anymore. Mike and Cala have families of their own. Tyler will have a family someday. However they choose to deal with it, accept it. I imagine right now they're wondering how and what you're going to do. I think they're waiting to take their cue from you. A word of warning, go slow, think things through, and don't make mistakes that will come back to haunt you.”

“The amazing thing is he looks the same. A little older but the same. How is that possible? He's got a perfect tan, he has all his hair, he's dressed well. He waltzes in here like the eight years never happened. With presents yet. Did you get a look at those skis? Very pricey. Wherever he was, life must have been good.”

“Hot dogs! Jell-O! Pickles! Potato chips! Gummi Bears! Come and get it!” Pete shouted from the doorway.

“Oh, Daddy, you have to make more. We need treats for the dogs. It's Christmas Eve, and we have to share.”

“It's not a problem, honey,” Carol said, holding her tray aloft. “We have enough for everyone.”

“What's
he
doing, Carol?” Mike asked through clenched teeth.

“He was leaning on the wall. Now he's kind of squatting on his haunches. He's afraid of Sugar. If he wiggles, she shows her fangs. I gave him a hot dog, but Sugar snatched it and ate it. What does all this mean, Mike?”

“It means if he stays, we go.”

“Oh.”

“He's not staying,” Kristine said quietly. “It's Christmas Eve. There's a wicked storm going on outside. Tomorrow is another day. When he sees he isn't welcome, he'll leave of his own accord.”

“Don't count on it,” Mike said, biting into his hot dog.

“He brought skis,” Tyler said. “Top of the line. He didn't acknowledge any of us. Did you notice that?”

“We aren't deaf, dumb, and blind, Ty. He really thought he could prance in here like nothing happened. I'm home! You did good, Mom. You okay?” Cala asked.

“I'm okay. I'm just as shocked as you all were. And he brought the money. I can't wait to hear the reasoning behind that.”

“Life must have been real good. Did you see that tan? New hairstyle. Expensive threads. Yes, I'd say life has been real good to our old man. Before he leaves, I think we should all recite chapter and verse about how hard our lives were for a little while. I think he really thought we were all going to smile and welcome him with open arms,” Mike said.

“Boy these hot dogs are good. They're almost as good as that Christmas eight years ago,” Cala said.

“Nah, those were the best,” Tyler said. “He wants something.”

“Time to sing the carols, then it's off to bed for you guys,” Pete said to his daughters. “Remember, Santa doesn't come until everyone is asleep.”

“How many presents, Daddy?” Emily asked as she snuggled with a fat little dog named Josephine.

“One. Pick the biggest one with the prettiest red bow.”

“Is it a wagon?”

“You have to open the bag to see what it is. Tomorrow morning when you wake up you'll see what Santa put under the tree for you.”

“Will the dogs scare Santa?”

“Nope. He likes dogs. I bet he even brings them some presents.”

“Oh goody,” Ellie said as she snuggled sleepily against her mother's chest.

Once during the robust caroling, Kristine thought she heard Logan shout, “Kristine, get this damn dog off me.” If the others heard him, they gave no sign. She ignored the sound, too, her brain whirling so fast the words to the carol she was trying to sing coming out garbled beyond description. No one paid any attention to that, either.

Later, when Cala returned to the living room after putting the girls to bed and Mike checked on Dillon, the family sat around in a circle on the floor with the dogs. There were no happy smiles, only tense faces and jerky movements. It was Pete who turned on the stereo to drown out whatever they were going to say to one another.

“As much as we say it isn't spoiled, it is. It's like someone zapped every bit of Christmas spirit I had,” Cala said. Her siblings nodded.

“Would you guys rather I went to bed?” Jack asked.

“No, Jack. You know the story. You held my hand for a long time. It's okay. We're just in shock. I don't think any one of us knows what we should do or say,” Kristine said in a choked voice.

“What's to decide? Tomorrow you boot his ass out of here just like you said. I want this right up front, Mom. Either he goes, or I go,” Mike said vehemently.

“That goes for me, too,” Cala said.

“I feel the way Mike and Cala feel,” Tyler said.

“Don't any of you want to hear what he has to say?” Kristine asked.

“Hell no, I don't. I can't believe you'd even ask that,” Mike said.

“What could he possibly say that would interest me?” Cala demanded.

“Why are you all looking at me like that?” Tyler demanded. “If it was up to me, I'd boot his ass out right now, storm or no storm.”

“Mom?” the three said in unison.

“I agree, but I want to hear what he has to say. I for one need that one last little bit before the final closure. I know you don't understand that. I just want to know. I think I have a right to know.”

“Then go out there now and ask him. Let's get this over with once and for all. I don't want him hanging over my head. I want him out of my life. I mean it, Mom, Carol and I are outta here if he stays,” Mike said.

“So are we,” Cala said. “Pete's a good vet. He can get a job anywhere.”

“That goes for me, too,” Tyler said.

Kristine's heart fluttered in her chest. It was all falling apart right in front of her eyes. All because of Logan. She couldn't bring herself to look at Woodie. He wasn't understanding any of this. If she didn't do what her children wanted, she was in danger of losing them all over again. They would take her grandchildren away from her.
Damn you, Logan. Damn you to hell.

“Listen, I think I'll go home,” Woodie said. “This is a family matter, and I'm not family ... yet.”