Home in Time for Christmas (23 page)

“Will you be all right? Will you be all right if you do this thing—for me?”

He searched her eyes in return.

“We will be all right,” he assured her.

“It will be a mess. I mean, Mark will have disappeared. And you will suddenly be there. You don't have a social security number. There is no record of your existence,” Melody said worriedly.

“We will work it out,” Jake said.

“The sun is coming!” Mark said firmly. “We've got to get out there. I've got the lantern, the two of you, drink those potions. Now.”

He was still bossy, Melody decided. But Serena, she was certain, would be able to handle him.

Mark stood back, his arm around Serena's shoulders. The lanterns burned on either side of the old well, where a strange electrical sizzle seemed to have begun.

Jake took Melody's hand, and together, they swallowed the potion.

She felt his grip, felt it so strongly. Then there was a magnificent flash of light.

Serena lifted her arms.

And rose petals flew through the sky, beautiful against the coming night and the snow.

She looked up. She thought she saw the North Star, even against the pastel sky.

Christmas. Magic could happen.

 

Jake knew that he would never travel such a strange path again. Feel the rush of the universe, see the stars slide by in a blink. Darkness and light, and all in the blink of an eye. He tried to hold on to it; he tried to understand it.

But it wasn't meant to be understood. There was no holding on. Whatever had really occurred since he had been dropped in a hangman's noose from the gallows, he would never fully understand.

It was over; abruptly, it was over. He tasted the cold of snow in his mouth and realized that he had landed facedown. Sunset had come with a full and sudden blanket of darkness.

For a moment, he didn't know where he was.

Rose petals littered the snow.

Had it all been a dream, a wild and desperate dream, imagined from the end of a rope?

No.

He felt her hand. Melody's hand. Her warmth against the cold; she was life against any fear of darkness. He still wasn't sure where they were, if they had made it back, or fallen face-first into the snow of a yard in 1776….

“Melody!” Mona cried.

She ran into the snow from the steps, fell into it and dragged Melody into her arms. Then George was there, and Keith.

“You made it back with Mark, too,” Mona said, but then she looked at Jake.

She didn't gasp. She stared at him, and she started to laugh.

And she hugged him.

And she said, “I'll bet Mark is going to be very happy, very happy indeed. Oh, Melody! Melody, Melody! My baby.”

“You know,
I
am the baby,” Keith said.

“Jerk!” Melody teased.

“Ass!” Keith said. And the two of them hugged one another.

As they all embraced over and over and over again in the yard, it started to snow.

Jake looked up.

It was impossible. It was snowing rose petals.

Melody looked up, too, laughing delightedly. She flew into his arms, and she held him, and the rose petals fell all around them.

He had life, he realized, an amazing gift.

He had love, even more amazing.

He had a future. And that was what he would make of it. No, what they would make of it. Together.

“Home. Here or there,” Melody whispered. “Somehow, I think that we all came home in time for Christmas.”

He kissed her.

He really had to agree.

Christmas
Seven years later

“A
story, Uncle Keith, a story!” Serena said. He had just walked in the door, and he was lucky he hadn't keeled right over, his five-year-old niece met him with such a flurry of excitement.

“Hey,” he protested. “Not ‘Merry Christmas' or ‘Hello,' Uncle Keith, you just throw yourself at me and demand a story?” he said.

“She's very impetuous,” Mark, her twin brother said. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Keith. Please, will you tell us a story?”

“Sure. Just a minute.” The dogs had come rushing in, as well. Brutus and Jimmy. And Cleo checked on him, too, looking around the corner.

The dogs didn't mind the kids. Cleo was wise to them.

Mark offered Keith a book. A picture book. Keith smiled; he hadn't seen it in print yet, but he'd known about the conception and he certainly knew the story.

“It came out for Christmas,” Mark informed him. He was by far the more solemn of the two. A minute
and half younger than his sister. Poor kid—Keith knew what it was like to be a younger brother. Then again, he knew that while Serena might walk all over her more-serious brother now and then, she'd fight for him with narrowed eyes and clenched fists anytime he was attacked by anyone else.

“You already know this story,” he told them.

“It's a true story. It's about Daddy's great-great-great—a million greats—grandparents,” Serena said. She was like her namesake, a gorgeous little creature with huge eyes and curly hair. “Please, Uncle Keith.”

He looked at the book, and he was very proud of his sister and Jake. He knew that it was being touted in schools around the country. It was an illustrated book on the Revolutionary War that reached out to children, and made them enjoy history.

Written and illustrated, of course, by the team of Melody and Jake Mallory.

“All right,” he said.

He sat down on the sofa and the kids crawled on either side of him.

“‘Once upon a time, there was a soldier. A very brave soldier, a hero of a war that was fought so that the United States could be the United States. The soldier was captured in New York City, and an officer named Hempton wanted to make a terrible example out of him. He wanted him hanged. But it was Christmas, and the soldier had a sister who knew something about tricks and illusion and magic. Before he could be hanged, his sister arrived, and there was a burst of rose petals in the sky. And the soldier disappeared.'”

“He didn't really disappear! She just made him appear somewhere else!” Serena interrupted.

“Shh!” Mark insisted.

Keith turned the page.

“‘No one knew what had happened, and the British commander was very embarrassed. Although the British held New York City throughout the war, the major who wanted to be so cruel did not last that long. He was summoned back to Britain by his commanders, and relieved of his duties.'”

“Fired! Yep, his butt was fired!” Serena said.

“Young lady, such language!” Keith chastised.

“Uncle Keith! I didn't say that his
ass
was fired, I said his
butt
was fired,” Serena protested.

“Don't say either!” Keith told her, trying not to laugh as he reprimanded her. He shook his head. This one was going to be pure mischief. “Are we paying attention, or what?” he asked.

“I'm paying attention,” Mark assured him.

Such precocious five-year-olds! But then again, they spent time with his mother and his father, who was managing new inventions all the time. He had taken a job with the government himself, and then again, the kids had parents who were artists and writers….

They didn't stand a chance.

“But what happened with the soldier?” Mark demanded.

He knew, of course, he just wanted more of the story.

Keith turned another page. He smiled. The sketch of Serena looked back at him.

“‘Well, here's the thing. The soldier's sister wasn't really his sister. She had been raised by the family after her own parents had been killed during the French and
Indian War that had been fought before the Revolutionary War.'”

“Always a war!” Serena said, shaking her head sadly with a wisdom far past her years.

“But good things, too,” he said, tousling her hair.

“‘So, the soldier took on a new name. He took on his grandfather's name. Hathaway. As Mark Hathaway—'”

“I'm Mark because of him!” Mark said happily.

“Right,” Keith agreed.

“As Mark Hathaway, he began to write again, and sometimes, he traveled, too, because, as a writer, he had friends who were writers. And his friends often heard things from the front. The American colonies were desperate for help from the French, and Mark Hathaway wrote many stirring essays that helped involve the French. But, more important, Mark Hathaway found out about the movements of Cornwallis toward the end of the war, and he was able to get important information to him. He was also able to tell many of the soldiers that the French were coming to help, and so, the soldiers didn't desert when they might have given up. The fight for independence was very hard, and many people gave their lives for our freedom. Many people were heroes. Your great-great-great—whatever—was one of them.'”

“That's so cool, so cool!” Serena said.

“Mark was really cool. I'm named for a hero!”

“Serena was a hero, too, right, Uncle Keith?” Serena demanded.

“Of course she was.”

“And it's really a true story?” Mark asked.

“You know it is. Your mom and dad wrote it straight
from all the old journals your grandmother dug out of the attic.”

“And so Serena—”

“Serena saved her stepbrother from the hangman's noose. Once their lives were turned around and she wound up marrying
Mark Hathaway,
she supported him at every turn. He wrote in his last journal that ‘my wife has been my every strength; without her, I am nothing. My courage comes from her, as does the peace that follows my every movement, for she has given me a sanctuary, a safe haven always, a home, and the children, the beautiful children, who are everything in life.'”

Serena let out a happy sigh. “She was supercool, supercool!” She frowned suddenly. “How many children was it, Uncle Keith?”

“Eight—you can find all their names in the church register. She was a great mom, and really loved her kids. She lost her own parents when she was young, and she was still young when she lost her adopted parents. She re-created her own family, and she left the world a legacy of people.”

“But Mark was a hero,” Mark argued.

“Your mom and dad are kind of like heroes, too,” Keith said.

Both kids looked at him and frowned. “They work at home,” Serena informed him.

Most of the time, the two did work from home, though Melody showed her work in different galleries upon occasion. Jake had continued writing.

And he was legitimate. He had a social security number and everything. They'd told his story to a friend—not the real story, but how he'd found himself in the road in the snow—to one of George's old friends
who had worked for the government. He'd brought a friend from the FBI in on it all, and once he'd assured himself that Jake was not a South American mobster or dangerous psychotic, he'd arranged for the papers needed to make Jake a real human being living in the twenty-first century.

Keith knew, too, that Melody was happy Mark had persisted in being the man to stay behind in 1776. They had worried at first that someone would think they had done away with him.

But no one did.

It had been almost as if he had never existed in the twenty-first century. Since he wasn't existing there now, it was a very good thing. Melody had feared that their publisher would demand to know what had happened to the book, but the publishing company didn't have a contract on file, and they didn't seem to remember Mark's name. They did remember her, and so she was able to offer them the work now published on speculation.

Christmas. Amazing. Magic and miracles. Somehow, insanely, it had all worked out.

“Your parents work very hard, and they take care of the two of you. And they make sure that I get to spend time with you, and they're very careful to take good care of Grandma and Grandpa. By the way—has Grandpa had any explosions out there lately?”

“Just a little one!” Serena whispered.

“Little tiny,” Mark agreed.

“I see. And Grandma?”

Serena giggled. “She took us to see some crazy ladies last week. But they were real cool. They gave us a bunch of incense and it smelled real good.”

“How's the house in the woods coming along?” Keith asked.

They both stared at him blankly, and then, of course, he realized it was the only home they had ever known.

His parents had given it to Jake and Melody as their wedding present.

“It's cool—Dad added a playroom,” Serena said.

“He chops wood real good,” Mark said.

“Well. He chops wood well,” his sister corrected.

“He knows how to cut it,” Mark said with aggravation, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, we're home!” Keith heard his sister call out as she opened the door.

Melody and Jake came into the house, shivering and dusting snow from their coats. As they did so, a clacking sound could be heard. Poor Brutus—he was getting along in years now, but he still clicked happily to greet Melody and Jake, every time they arrived, which was often, of course, because they didn't live far from the old house, and they were frequent visitors.

Mona and George were happy to take the kids once a week so that Melody and Jake could still get in some alone time—date time, as his mom called it. And once a year, Mona and George kept the kids so that Jake and Melody could take a week and go somewhere. They invited Keith to take his vacation at the same time. Jake was in love with the world. It had been a while now, but Jake was still fascinated with everything out there. So far, they'd seen the British Isles, Paris and Rome.

Jake was dying to head out on a trip to Egypt.

Keith stood, ready to go greet his sister and brother-in-law.

Mona and George came out from the kitchen area. “Great! We're all here,” Mona said, wiping her hands on her apron and going to hug her daughter and son-in-law.

Keith went to do the same. He met his sister's eyes and said, “We're almost all here.”

“Oh?” She slipped an arm through her husband's and stared at him.

“I think he has a date,” Jake said. He nuzzled Melody's ear and she smiled, glancing up at him.

“A date?” she teased her brother. She stepped closer to him. “Another pole dancer?”

“It's a legitimate way to make a living, if you don't get hooked on the drugs,” he said. “But no—I think you'll like her. She's an arts major at Boston College.”

“Ah!” Melody said. “Cool.”

“Mark,” Keith said, looking at his young nephew, “when your sister tortures you, deck her,” he said.

“Keith!” Melody protested.

He grinned. “He didn't hear me. That was for you.”

Melody and Jake laughed, still arm in arm. “Thanks for helping Mom and Dad keep an eye on the kids while we set up their presents at the house.”

“I'd say you're welcome, but I just walked in on the little munchkins. Hey,” he added seriously, “the book really came out beautifully.”

“Thank you,” Jake and Melody said in unison.

The doorbell rang.

“Wonderful, wonderful!” George said. “We're all in time for Christmas!”

Keith started to walk past his sister to answer the doorbell.

“Uncle Keith, Uncle Keith! You didn't really finish the story!” Serena said.

He stopped and glanced at Jake and Melody.

He looked to the kids.

“Why, they all lived happily ever after!” he said.

Even me! I think my Christmas magic is now here.

Magic and miracles, he'd determined, we're all created by man's greatest asset—the ability to love.

He answered the door.

It was great to be home for Christmas.