More Layers: Book Two Layers Series (22 page)

He hands the kit to his mom. “Hold this,” he tells her as he climbs up on me and kneels on my lap, damn near nailing me in the balls. I shift as he puts the back of his hand on my forehead.

“You don’t feel like you’re temperaturing, but I better make sure.

He gets the play thermometer from his bag. “Open.”

I do. And he sticks it under my tongue.

I look at Lex.

“Don’t look at me. Gram and Stewart gave them those kits.”

“Maybe, it’s just a virus, or maybe you ate too much birthday cake. I think you need to poop.”

He takes out the thermometer and looks at it.

“I’m fine, Dr. Chase.”

He shakes his head. “You’re not temperaturing, but you don’t look good. You need to poop.”

JB walks over with his puppy in a... “What the fu...” I look at Chase and he already has his finger out and is prepared to give me the finger shame thingy. What was I thinking when I taught him that? Obviously, I wasn’t thinking. “What the funk is that thing?”

JB rolls his eyes at me. “Couldn’t come up with anything better than ‘funk.’“

“He can’t think, JB. He has to poop.”

“For the love of God. I don’t have to poop. And what the he...heavens is that thing you have on?”

“It’s a pooch pouch, Dad,” he says and gives me the “duh, Dad” look.

“A what?”

“Don’t even go there,” Lex tells me.

“Did you check his head?” JB asks him.

“Yeah, he’s not temperaturing.”

JB shakes his head. “Did you look at his tongue?”

“No. That’s a good idea, bro.”

Bro?

“Dad, stick out your tongue.”

“Chase, I feel fine—really.”

Chase looks at JB.

JB nods.

“Stop being difficult, boy. Open up and stick out your tongue. Now!”

Boy? Now! What the hell?

“Are you deaf, boy? Or don’t you understand the English?” JB adds.

“I think we’ve been reading too many pirate stories,” Lex says.

“I’m not deaf. I’m not a boy—I’m your dad. And I understand and speak English just fine. And I don’t like your attitude.”

“Okay, now that we understand each other,” Chase says, “stick out your tongue.”

Lex laughs. “I’d stick out my tongue. Or they will drag you to the bathroom and watch you poop, while you walk the plank.”

“Oh for crying out loud.”

“There is no need to cry, Dad,” JB says, “we’ll give you a sticker if you ‘buck it up.’“

“Yeah, ‘buck it up,’ Dad.”

Lex giggles.

A sticker? What the hell?

I give in and stick out my tongue and my doctor sons (hey, a new reality show) give it a thorough inspection.

Chase looks at it. “Hmm...Hmm...I see,” he says.

What the fuck does he see?

“What do you think, bro?”

JB steps closer, being careful not to squash the poor dog in its stupid pouch.

“Can you lean forward a tad?” he asks me.

I do and he looks it over. “Hmm...I see.”

What the fuck do they see?

I keep my tongue out and ask them for their diagnosis. “Whaat oo ya ink, octors?”

“Well,” Chase says, “your tongue looks fine. It could be your tonsils but we don’t have the proper equipment. We need the surgical kits for that.”

I put my tongue back into my mouth. “They have surgical kits?”

“They have kits for everything,” Lex says.

“What’s your diagnosis, Doctor JB?”

“I think you should poop. Then if it feels better, that’s your answer, dude.”

Lizbet walks over. “What time are you two leaving?”

Thank fuck. There is a grandmother God. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

Lex looks at her watch. “I told Lee to meet us out front at eight.”

“I see. Jaxson, can I refill your drink?”

Yes! Yes, God yes. “No, thank you, Lizbet.”

“Gram, what do you think about the name Higgins for my dog?” JB asks her.

“I once knew a Higgins and I liked him. I think Higgins will do,” she answers.

“Higgins?” Stewart adds as he joins us. “Yes, I remember him well. A decent bloke was Higgins. What ever happened to him, Lizbet?”

“I don’t know. I seem to recall him moving to Africa. Botswana, I believe.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. He was quite the adventurer—always off to one continent, then the next. That Higgins.”

Stewart gives us a wink.

“Higgins it is,” JB announces.

“Excellent choice, lad.”

Chase hops of my lap. “I don’t have a name for my puppy, yet.”

“You’ll think of something,” Stewart tells him.

Marco joins us. “Well, birthday boys. Henry and I have everything all set up for the slumber part of this party. So give your mom and dad a kiss and let’s go jump in the tub.”

“Did you hear that, Higgins?” JB says, “It’s time for our bath.”

A hole Lot of Fun!

Alexia

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“We have to travel to get my present?” he says with whine-pout.

“Yes, that’s why I’m giving you your presents tonight. I don’t want to be away on Christmas Eve or Christmas. It will be our first as a family, our first opportunity to start new traditions. “

“I can think of a few new traditions, but they’re not for the whole family.”

“Get in the damn car, Ryan.

“You’re a mean one, Ms. Grinch.”

“Whatever.”

He gets into the back of a Range Rover and I join him.

“Put this on.”

“A blindfold? I think I’m going to like this surprise.”

“Just put the damn thing on.”

“Please tell me you’ve got handcuffs in that overnight bag.”

“Just put it on, Ryan.”

He puts it on.

“Okay, Lee, we’re ready to roll.”

“Okay.” He laughs.

“And what do you find so funny?”

He smiles. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“Damn right, nothing. Put the car in gear.”

“You’re a mean one, Ms. Grinch,” he sings.

I roll my eyes at him. “I get no respect, I tell you, none.”

“So, where are we going?” Jaxson asks.

“If I told you—kind of defeats the purpose of the whole surprise thing.”

“Precisely.”

I flip him off.

“Did you just flip me off?”

“No. If you can’t see, it defeats the purpose.”

He scowls.

A few minutes later we pull up to a gate.

Lee rolls down his window. “Evan, how are things?”

“All’s good boss.”

“Good to hear.”

The gate opens and we drive past the guard station and down the long drive.

“When you get in Alexia, set the alarm like I showed you. And if you leave for any reason, you notify me. Do you copy?”

I salute him. “Copy that.”

“Are we going to a
24
convention, or our we just reenacting an episode?” Jaxson asks.

Lee laughs.

“Please don’t encourage him.”

“Copy that.”

Jaxson smirks.

“I have two men at the gate, two on the grounds and two at the front door.”

“Ten four,” I say as the Rover comes to a stop.

“Okay, time to get out, Mr. Ryan.”

“Can I take the blindfold off?”

“No.”

Jaxson frowns as Lee helps me lead him up the front steps.

He opens the door for us. “Don’t forget the alarm.”

“Copy that. Roger. Affirmative. Got it. Yes, sir. Yes, yes, Daddy.”

Lee rolls his eyes.

“See you tomorrow,” I say and shut the door.

“Keep a close eye on her,” I hear Lee say through the door.

“Yes, boss,” the guards, reply.

“She drives me fucking crazy.”

“Hey! I heard that.”

I hear Lee laugh and walk away.

“Can I take the blindfold off now?”

“Not yet,” I say while setting the alarm.

“Take my elbow. We have more stairs to climb.”

We hook elbows and I grab our overnight bag and we climb up the stairs. When we get to the top landing, we take a right. We walk to the end of the hall and take the door on the left. I place him in the middle of the room.

“Are you ready, Mr. Ryan?”

“Copy that.”

I remove his blindfold. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Ryan.”

He blinks and then looks around. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and I wonder if I’ve messed up.

Then he turns and looks at me with tears in his eyes. “How?”

Thank fuck. “I called the former owners’ realtor and asked her to set up a meeting with them. I told them our story and...”

“They sold it back, just like that?”

“Well, no. I had to make them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”

“Lex. How much?”

“It’s a gift. I’m not going to tell you what I paid for it. Does it really matter?”

“Lex, it’s too much.”

“It’s the Ryan Estate, and it should always be owned by a Ryan. If it makes you feel better, I put it in a trust.”

“Lex, it’s too much.”

“Jaxson, can’t you just accept it and be happy? All that really matters is that your legacy continues. All that really matters is that we are together. And remember, you promised. My casa—your casa.”

He pulls me into his arms. “You’re right. The only thing that matters is our family. God, I love you, Ms. Grant.”

“You better.”

He kisses the top of my head.

I pull away. “And now for my other surprise.”

We walk up to a large tent draped with layers of jewel colored fabrics. I take off my jacket and kick off my shoes. He does the same.

I pull the flap back. “Welcome to the Kasbah,” I say in a really terrible accent of unknown origin.

He frowns.

“Okay, that was lame. You’re rubbing off on me, Mr. Ryan.” I pull the flap back further. “Welcome to my tent.”

He steps through and I follow.

“Nice,” he comments.

I walk him over to a mattress that’s been placed on the floor and covered in layers of silk and no less than a hundred pillows.

He lies back on the pillows. “Got pillows?” He laughs.

I pick up a basket filled with fruit and such. “Date? Fig? Grape? Or me?” I ask him.

“Thank you. I’ll take one of each.”

I join him on the mattress and lay back on and into the pillows.

“What’s with the bird?” He nods toward one side of the tent.

I turn and look at a stuffed parrot in a cage and roll my eyes. “Nathan. You little gaywad.”

“I don’t get it.”

I shudder. “Parrots. They freakin’ freak me out.”

“I learn something new about you every day, babe.”

I get up and cover up the birdcage with some fabric, then sit back down and grab a grape and pop in into my mouth.

He laughs. “They really do freak you out?”

“Are you happy with your surprise?”

He swallows his grape and pulls me close. “I can’t begin to tell you how much.”

I lift a suggestive brow. “You could show me?”

He grins. “That I can do.”

We lie in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Babe,” he says. “I still...I can’t believe you did this.”

“Well, I did.”

He gets up and grabs a bottle of sparkling cider and pours us a glass. He hands one to me.

“A toast. To us.” He raises his glass.

“To us and our first Christmas,” I add.

We touch glasses.

He sets his down. “I want to show you something.” He pulls back the flap of the tent and retrieves his jacket. He takes out a large envelope from the inside pocket and sits back down next to me.

I gift him with a cheeky grin.

“What?”

“You, Mr. Ryan. Barefoot. Your ass in those jeans—way hot.”

He laughs. “Yes, there is no denying it.”

“Hot and arrogant.”

“That’s me.”

He removes several documents from the envelope. “I have a gift for you, but first I want to show you this.”

He shows me a genealogical chart. “This is the Ryan family line, dating back to the Vikings. My mother had genealogy done on the Ryans and the Sorianos.” He then shows me a picture of his parents and grandparents of both families.

“You look like your mother’s side of the family.”

He shows me a picture of him as a baby and a toddler.

“I can’t believe how much JB and Chase look like you. You could be triplets.”

He smiles.

“This is what I wanted to show you,” he says and shows me an ink drawing of what I know are Celtic knots.

“Celtic?”

“Yes.”

“It’s stunning. It looks like several knots interwoven.”

“Stewart told me that you took a course on the Celts.”

“Stewart is Irish-Scot. He took me to Ireland one summer and introduced me to Celtology. I took a summer Celtic Studies course at Oxford and a Scottish Celtic studies course at the University of Edinburgh. Both courses focused mainly on linguistics, but I did get an introduction to Celtic archeology and symbols.”

He gifts me with a funny look.

“What?”

“You are such a nerd.”

“Nerds rule.”

“Nerds fucking rock my world.”

I smile and look at the drawing again. “Did you find this with your family records?”

“Yes. My mother did some research on it and found out it was one of a collection done by an artisan and distant cousin named Colin Ryan. He was a popular nineteenth-century Irish artisan known mostly for his paintings but had several collections of drawings. Can you read it?”

“I don’t think it’s meant to be read or interpreted, like an individual knot or symbol would be. It’s a work of art, up to ones’ own interpretation or Colin Ryan’s interpretation.” I point to one part of the knot. “I think this is fate and eternity woven together, but I’m not sure.” I point to another part of the drawing. “And I believe this could be a family crest.”

“The expert mom sent it to said the same thing about interpretation. And you’re right about the fate, eternity and the Ryan family crest.” He points to another part of the drawing. “He said that this knot means family.”

“It’s breathtaking, regardless. Do you know anything about the rest of the collection?”

“No.”

“It would be interesting to look into,” I comment.

He takes the ink drawing and the other papers and puts them back into the envelope and sits it aside. He then kneels on the bed in front of me and removes his button-down. He turns and shows me a big patch on his left shoulder.