Queenie Baby: Pass the Eggnog (4 page)

She smiled knowingly. "He's very handsome like a western movie star, isn't he?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "On that note I'd better get him another beer. Sounds like he's going to need it."

Victoria waved him away. "Men, they don't understand these things. Kyle runs his parents' farm and has a hunting and fishing guide business. He's very independent and very single," she added with an eyebrow lift.

"I'm surprised he's still single," I said, taking a sip of my drink.

"He was married to a local girl for a few years, but she wanted to get off the farm. She left, and he stayed. I don't think he'd adapt well to city life."

I pictured Kyle as Mick Dundee in New York City for the first time, from the
Crocodile Dundee
movies. It made me giggle. I think the martini was going to my head. I had to be careful with Kyle. Just because Mark was off playing CIA agent and seemed to be having commitment issues, didn't mean I wanted to end up under the eaves rounding third base with Kyle.

My mom and Dave appeared in the doorway.

"Well this is cozy," my mom said taking in the bucolic scene.

Kyle came up behind her. "Hi."

My mom whipped around in surprise. She craned her neck to see who was talking to her.

"Oh, my," she purred. Now one thing I knew about my mom is that she had a weakness for outdoorsy men. The more rugged the better. Why she had married two men who couldn't start a campfire with a blowtorch was beyond me.

"Mom this is Kyle. He lives next door on the farm, remember?"

My mom squinted at Kyle. "I think I can see him under that beard. My how you have grown," she gushed.

My stepfather shook his head. He must know about her thing for mountain men. But he greeted Kyle warmly and shook his hand.

"Why, isn't this fun for you, Diana!" she said fixing a frosted, shadowed eye on me. "Just try not to get stuck on the roof this time, Kyle."

Kyle gave my mom a sheepish smile and took a swig from his beer. Leave it to my mom to bring up the roof incident. Kyle's get away from our make-out session in the attic through the attic window had almost worked. If not for the loose gutter, he might've made it. Instead, Dave had to get him down with a ladder. That was the last time I'd seen Kyle.

"Shut it, mom," I snarled.

"Sounds like you two young'uns have some unfinished business," Aunt Pearl cackled from the doorway. "It reminds me of how Dub used to chase Babs around." Her voice had gone soft.

We all turned at the reference to my dead grandmother.

"We all grew up together, building forts in the woods and fishing in the streams. When we got to high school and Babs started gettin' interested in the boys, Dub was fit to be tied. She ignored him all through high school, but he was persistent. They were married a year after graduating. I think Babs always intended to marry him, but she'd decided he was going to have to earn it. Dub had a harsher life than us, of course. His daddy was about no good." Her eyes narrowed at the thought. "Don't excuse what he did when Babs died, though," she added firmly.

"I never heard that story before, Aunt Pearl," my mom whispered.

Aunt Pearl shook her head. "Don't know why I decided to share it now. Mammaw you tell those haints to stay outta my head!"

Mammaw made soothing noises and patted her arm.

The rest of the Grands were standing behind her waiting for the okay to proceed to the dining room. Victoria rose and ushered everyone in. Kyle and I were the last to leave the living room.

"Sorry about that," I said with an embarrassed smile.

"Maybe your Aunt's right. Maybe we do have some unfinished business." A smile played on his lips. Then he added, "Man, when you opened the door, you could've knocked me over with a feather. I thought there was an angel standing there. It was like there was a light shining down on you, and everything else was dark."

Wow, that was quite a compliment. I wasn't sure how to take it. Or if I even wanted to encourage this reunion.

"Yeah, I couldn't believe it was you either," I agreed.

He touched my arm lightly. "You're here until Thursday, right?"

I nodded.

"So maybe we could do something together tomorrow? I could take you on a guided tour and show you the mountain."

He was so sweet and earnest that I couldn't resist. "Sure, Kyle. I'd like that."

He beamed and offered me his arm the way Granddaddy sometimes did on our way into dinner. I took it and wondered what else this trip had in store for me.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

"So stop jawin' about it an' jest ask the man," Granddaddy said, taking a stab at his roast beef.

"Ask what?" I said as we took our seats at the big old-fashioned table. The kids were seated in the kitchen, and I'm sure Max was stationed under their table waiting for the inevitable spills and scraps.

My dad cleared his throat. "Well, we thought we might ask Kyle if he'd heard anything about Brandy's father."

Everyone looked at Kyle. He had his plate in his hand and was looking longingly at the food-laden buffet table next to us. "Ask away."

After a long-winded explanation of the situation with each of my relatives adding their own—often incoherent or nonsensical—two cent's worth, Kyle was allowed to reply.

"I haven't heard anything about Mr. Wilson being back in town, but I know where to ask." He turned towards me. "Is it okay if we stop by the post office on the way to our hike? If he's in a fifty mile radius of town, Mabel will know."

The Grands smiled conspiratorially at one another. I think I heard my sister mumble something about not wasting any time under her breath.

"We'd really appreciate that," my dad said.

"Any reason you think he might be in town?" Kyle asked.

I raised my eyes heavenward.

"Babs said he's here," replied Aunt Pearl right on cue. Kyle looked confused.

"Diana's grandmother. My sister," Aunt Pearl explained.

"Is that the same grandmother who died in a car crash?" he whispered to me.

"Yes," I ground out with a glare at The Grands.

"She's hauntin' us until we get Brandy reunited with her pappy. She tol' Mammaw here, the man was gettin' ready to kick the bucket," Granddaddy said, shoveling a glob of mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Kyle looked at me. I pursed my lips and remained silent. Anne tried to bring reason back to the conversation. "We're not sure about all that," she said smoothly, "but Brandy would really like to find out what happened to her father. It's been so many years." She shot a sympathetic look in my mom's direction.

How the two of them were not only friends, but neighbors as well, was beyond me. Anne's prim manners and retired school teacher wardrobe contrasted sharply with my mom's trailer park attitude and colorful vocabulary.

"I would be careful about offending our friends upstairs, dear," Mammaw said softly. "We do need their help, you know. And we certainly wouldn't want them feeling they needed to
prove
anything to us."

"Yeah," chimed in Dan, "they were right about a man for Diana bein' at the door." He had mashed potatoes on his nose. My sister rolled her eyes and used her napkin to wipe him off like he was one of the kids. Which, I guess, he kind of was.

"Well, I'll do anything I can to help," Kyle replied and dug into his plate. It looked like the quality of the food was overcoming the kookiness of the conversation for Kyle.

After dinner we all filed back into the living room. I ran up to the attic to grab my guitar from my little room under the eaves. The top of the stairway was pitch black and freezing. I paused outside the door, a little unnerved by the shiver that ran down my spine. A faint rustling sound came from the other side of the door.

I threw open the door and clicked on the light. The room was just as I'd left it.

Get a hold of yourself, Diana. I switched on the fireplace so it wouldn't be freezing when I came up for bed. I grabbed my guitar and turned to leave, my eye catching the mirror over the small dresser. The surface was fogged from the cold.

I stepped closer to get a better look.

A word was scrawled across the surface:

H-E-L-P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I reached the living room, I was out of breath from the sprint down the stairs and completely unnerved by the message on my mirror. I told myself it must've been one of the kids goofing around or maybe even my sister trying to get even with me.

The family was already singing a rambling version of "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer." A carafe of wine sat among glasses on a side table. I poured a hefty glass and took a gulp. The ghost discussion had finally lost steam; no way I was bringing this up right now.

I felt like Ebenezer Scrooge getting a mysterious warning from his dead partner Marley. It wasn't that I hated Christmas. I just felt let down by it in the past. When I was twelve, my parents announced their divorce a few days before Christmas. The next Christmas was spent with a new family. I remember looking at Ashley while everyone opened presents and wondering if she felt the same way. Like we had crashed some other family's Christmas morning. Where had all these people come from, and why did I have to spend my Christmas with them? I'd gotten over it, but I never felt the same way about Christmas again. Each year I became a little less enthralled with the magic and a little more irritated by the mayhem.

My sister waved me over to a folding chair next to her. I pulled my guitar out of its case and headed her way.

"Let's try some of the songs from
White Christmas
. I printed out the lyrics. We'll have our first practice tomorrow afternoon after you get back from your hike. It'll give me time to scout some costumes and props." Ashley rustled through a pile of papers in front of her.

She handed me the sheet music for "White Christmas." I knew the song because I played it every Christmas for business holiday parties.

I played the first few notes. I opened my mouth to sing. And a deep, smooth baritone beat me to the punch. I looked up in surprise. Kyle was singing. Beautifully. I switched to singing backup, and we got through the song like a couple of pros. Everyone clapped enthusiastically.

"I should take you on the road with me. You're wonderful!"

Kyle smiled at the praise. "I sang at church. My grandmother used to take me every week."

"Looks like you're stuck being Bing Crosby to my Rosemary Clooney. You've just auditioned your way into the Christmas play."

He looked around the room. Everyone nodded happily.

Ashley said, "Do you have a suit? You really need to wear a suit for the play."

Kyle looked like he wished he'd have kept his mouth shut. "I do," he stammered.

"And you have to shave off your beard. Bing Crosby didn't have a beard," Ashley said.

"My beard? It's still winter. I really don't—" he began.

The lights flickered wildly and then went off. The only light came from the fireplace.

"Oh, dear," I heard Victoria murmur.

"No worries," said Jake. "The generator will kick in any minute. This happens a couple of times a week."

We waited. Nothing happened.

"I think you'd look lovely without a beard, dear," Mammaw said out of the blue. "And so does your granny."

"Thank you, ma'am." Kyle rubbed his chin. "But the beard keeps my face—" The lights flickered on and then went out again.

"What the heck?" Jake exclaimed. "Why isn't the generator kicking on?"

"Maybe you can just think about it, dear," Mammaw insisted.

Everyone looked at Kyle. Kyle looked at me. "What do you think?"

I was noodling my way through the "Sisters" song, because I knew Ashley would be clamoring for it any minute.

 "I think you should do what you want to do. But," I paused, giving him a little grin, "I would like to see who's behind the beard."

He grinned back. "Done! I'll shave it tomorrow."

The lights came on, and everybody cheered. Was I the only one who thought the timing weird?

After exhausting most of the songs from
White Christmas
, The Grands and The Parents retired to their rooms for the night.

"Can you play something original?" Kyle asked when they'd gone.

"Sure," I said, and played my song about the Chesapeake Bay. It was soft and melancholy. Each string I plucked seemed to echo and bounce about the room, giving the song an almost lamenting feel. Wow, I thought, this room had great reverb.

"So beautiful," Victoria said. Everyone agreed.

"I'm impressed," Kyle said, adding, "and I can't believe that one's not on the radio."

I shrugged. There were lots of great songs that never made it to the radio. Such was the life of a musician.

Ashley yawned and elbowed Dan, who had been snoring at the end of the couch.

Victoria stretched and excused herself for bed.

"Guess, I'd better get home," said Kyle. "Is nine too early for our hike?"

"Nine's good for me. I'm really looking forward to it."

"Me too," he said, as I walked him to the door. He paused. "I'm really glad I stopped by tonight, Diana."

"Me too." I looked up into his twinkling blue eyes. The corners were crinkled by wrinkles from time spent in the elements. He was such a good-natured man, couldn't hurt to spend some time with him.

He leaned down and kissed my cheek, his beard tickling my neck. A shiver ran down my body and slammed into all the good parts. Warning bells went off. Yikes! Mark had been gone way too long. I hurried him out the door and called for Max. Time to call it a night.

My room was just as I'd left it, the gas fire making it cozy and bright. Thankfully, there was no sign of the message in the mirror. Max trailed close on my heels, not sure what to make of the little room in the attic. He gave everything a good sniff and then hopped up onto the bed. I had to admit, I didn't feel as creeped out with Max with me. I'm not sure how much protection he'd provide in the event of another ghost incident, but it couldn't hurt having him there.