An Island Christmas (6 page)

“Have fun,” Jilly said, petting the cat.

Felicia and Archie went carefully out the door.

As they walked, her arm linked through Archie’s, Felicia thought she was floating in a dream. The lights on the Christmas trees lining Main Street glowed, illuminating the shop windows with their holiday displays. Felicia longed to take the time to stand staring at each scene like a child, but she knew that Archie would be bored with man-made scenery. Somehow she would persuade her father to take him off for a walk on the moors so she could have some alone time with her mother.

As the sky turned from gray to deep violet, Felicia and Archie walked to Cold Noses to buy the cat wand. They strolled on down Straight Wharf, where a few scalloping boats still bobbed against the wooden dock.

“It’s a picture-book town, isn’t it?” asked Felicia.

“I wonder if we can get out on the water,” Archie responded.

“Archie! It’s December! Who wants to go out on the water in this cold?” Felicia buried her hands in the pockets of her down jacket.

“I do,” said Archie. “It was fascinating to see the island
from the airplane, all the shoals and harbors. It would be great to see the island from a boat.”

Felicia knew that if Archie had his mind set, there was no point in arguing. She simply took his arm and steered him along the brick sidewalk back up toward the main part of town and the Gordons’ house on Chestnut Street.

“Look at our house!” cried Felicia as they reached the Gordons’ yard. In all the windows of the old house, a single candle burned, casting light onto the dark street. They were electric candles for safety’s sake, yet the illusion brought a feeling of history and security. The Christmas tree, blazing with small lights, covered with decorations, candy canes, and strings of cranberries and popcorn, filled the window at the front of the house.

“Nice.” Archie was a man of few words.

Felicia stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cold cheek and they went inside.

A delicious smell of beef stew filled all the rooms of the house. Calling hello, Felicia hung her coat and Archie’s in the closet and hurried into the kitchen to see if she could help her mother.

Jilly’s cheeks were rosy from the warmth of cooking. She lifted the lid on the big stewpot, stirred with her wooden spoon, murmured to herself, and put the lid back on. In a round, down-filled cat bed, Rex was curled asleep.

“That smells yummy,” said Felicia. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Maybe it was only her imagination, but at her voice, the cat stirred slightly and peered disapprovingly at her through narrowed eyes.

“No, darling, we’re all set. Let’s go in the living room and have a drink before dinner.” Jilly untied her apron. Leaning toward her daughter, she whispered, “I hope I made enough food. Archie is such a big man.”

“Mom, he is six feet four inches and weighs two hundred twenty pounds. Stop making him sound like Goliath.”

“Sorry, darling, I’m not criticizing, I’m remarking.”

Felicia followed her mother into the living room where her father and her fiancé were seated in the armchairs by the fire, chatting.

The ladies settled side by side on the sofa.

“Did you enjoy your walk?” asked Felicia’s mother.

“It was great,” exclaimed Archie. “George, do you own a motorboat?”

George blinked. “No, although I often wish I did. Why do you ask?”

“I thought it would be fun if you and I could take a tour of the harbor in a boat and perhaps putter out to Great Point.”

“In this weather!” Jilly looked horrified.

“I’m sure if we bundled up—” began Archie.

Even though she’d objected earlier, now Felicia was quick to defend her fiancé. “Mom, fishermen go out in this weather all the time. It’s not the Arctic.”

Felicia’s father surprised them all. “I’d like to see the
land from the water, too, Archie. I do know a few fellows who have motorboats. I’ll give them a call and see if we can borrow one. The harbor’s beginning to ice over, but if we get out there in the next day or two we should be all right.”

Gosh
, thought Felicia,
Go, Dad!

Jilly looked stunned. Felicia turned the topic to safer subjects. “So, Mom, when do Lauren and her family arrive?”

“The twenty-third, I think,” Jilly said. “Before then, we have a number of parties to attend, and I do hope you will join us. You’ll see some of your old friends. I’ve been meaning to tell you—Steven has bought the house next door. He’s going to live here permanently!”

Felicia lit up. “Really? That’s great. I can’t wait to see him.”

“Why don’t we invite him over for dinner tonight?” Jilly suggested perkily.

“No, Mom, we just got here, and dinner’s all ready.” Felicia tapped her lip. “You and I will have to sync schedules, because I want to take Archie on some walks around the island and perhaps on a bike ride to ’Sconset.”

“Bike ride,” she echoed weakly, disappointed that Felicia didn’t want to invite Steven over right now. As if she needed food for fortification (she did!), Jilly stood up. “Perhaps we should eat now.”

“I’ll help you carry the stew in, dear.” George rose and followed.

Jilly had set the dining room table with one of her best damask tablecloths and centered it with a Christmas wreath around a mirror with a clever holiday scene of miniature ice skaters. She’d brought out the best silver and china.

“Exquisite, Mom,” Felicia exclaimed, and kissed her mother’s cheek.

“This smells delicious,” Archie said. When Jilly took her place at the head of the table, Archie stood behind her to help seat her and push in her chair. Jilly flushed with pleasure.

Felicia beamed at Archie, who moved to his chair at the side of the table and sat down. She noticed the cat creeping into the room, stationing himself next to Jilly’s chair.

“If you’ll hand me your plate, Felicia,” said her father, “I’ll dish out—”

A loud cracking noise interrupted George. More snaps and pops, like kindling on fire, erupted into the room, and then Archie’s antique wooden chair exploded into bits. Archie was dropped to the floor, the back of his head smacking the raised metal fireguard. Blood spurted over the hearth.

Rex yowled as a section of the wooden chair slammed into him. He streaked from the room.

“Archie! Are you all right?” Felicia knelt next to her fiancé who lay sprawled on the carpet looking startled.

“Let me help you up,” offered George, but he tripped on some of the round, rolling rungs of the chair and had to
grasp the dining room table for support, pulling the tablecloth and dishes sideways so they trembled at the edge.

“I’m fine,” insisted Archie. With a groan, he sat up, leaving a pool of blood on the hearth. More blood poured down the back of his head and his neck. “It’s only a small cut.”

“
Nothing
about you is small!” Jilly cried.

“Mother!” Felicia snapped. She snatched her clean white napkin and pressed it against the back of Archie’s head.

“Should I call 911?” Jilly asked.

“No,” protested Archie. “I’m fine.”

“But all that blood!” Jilly said.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” said Archie, “because there are so many blood vessels beneath the scalp. Keep the pressure on, Felicia, and the blood will stop.”

“I hate to tell you this, Archie,” said Felicia, “but I think you’re going to need some stitches.”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Jilly said.

“Nonsense.” George took charge. “Felicia, keep the pressure on his head. Here’s your coat, and Archie’s. We’ll take Archie to the emergency room at the hospital. Felicia, you sit in the backseat with Archie. I’ll drive.”

Archie awkwardly stood up as Felicia continued to press her napkin to his scalp. Like a couple in a three-legged race, they struggled toward the front hall. Jilly ran up with a pile of towels in her hands.

“Put this around your neck, Archie, and this one over
your coat, so you don’t ruin your clothes. Felicia, use this towel if there’s any more blood.”

“Thanks, Mom. Do you feel dizzy, Archie?” asked Felicia. “Can you see right? Are you sick to your stomach?”

“I’m fine,” Archie insisted, but he stumbled as they all went out the door, possibly because in their anxiety they were trying to squeeze through at the same time.

“Call me,” Jilly begged. “I’m sure you’ll be okay, Archie.”

“Of course he will, Mom,” Felicia called as they hurried toward the car. “Believe me, Archie has a hard head.”

“I’ll keep dinner warm!” Jilly called. More quietly she added, “And wash up the blood.”

7
 

After the other three raced off to the hospital, Jilly returned to the dining room, where she stared at the gleaming red patch of blood on the floor.

“Okay,” she said to herself aloud. Picking up her cell phone, she punched in a number. She could almost hear the phone next door ringing.

“Hi, Steven,” she said cheerfully. “How are you settling in?”

Steven’s low voice was smooth, almost melodious. “Great, thanks. I’ve enjoyed the casseroles you brought over.”

“I wonder if I could ask you a favor in return,” Jilly said. “I have to go to the Cape tomorrow to buy some new dining room chairs. My antiques are falling apart. I need someone to help me carry them to the taxi and load them on the ferry luggage rack.” As a boy, Steven had been practically a fixture at the Gordon house, enjoying innumerable meals and snacks, so Jilly felt completely at ease asking for his help.

“Um, isn’t Felicia there with her fiancé?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, Archie hit his head when he broke one of the chairs. He’s on his way to the hospital for stitches. I think he’ll be out of commission tomorrow.”

“Sorry to hear that. Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Just needs a day of rest. I think Felicia will be going over with me,” Jilly added enticingly.

“Let me check something.” After a moment, Steven said, “The weather should be good tomorrow. The wind will be just fifteen miles per hour. So, great. Of course I’ll go.”

“You’re an angel!”
And I’m a bit of a devil
, Jilly thought as they made plans for which ferry to take. “See you tomorrow.”

But as she carried the antique hand-painted porcelain tureen back into the kitchen, a kind of guilt itched at Jilly’s heart. She dialed Nicole’s number.

“Can you talk for a moment?” she asked her friend.

“Of course. Are you okay?” Nicole asked, sounding worried.

“I feel so
terrible
, Nicole! Poor Archie actually cut his head and is on his way to the hospital to have stitches! Thank heavens we haven’t had a dinner party since I bought those antique chairs. I had no idea they were so fragile.”

“I’m sure Archie will survive. He’s a rough tough outdoors guy. Could he stand up?”

“Yes, he walked and everything. But I’m going to go to the Cape tomorrow to buy some sturdy dining room chairs.”

“Excellent idea, Jilly. I’ll go with you. I have some last-minute things to buy.”

“Fabulous!” Now she only had to convince Felicia to come with her, and Jilly could chat with Nicole while Felicia chatted with her dear old high school buddy Steven.

“How’s the stew?” Nicole asked.

“Keeping warm on the stove. We’ll eat in the kitchen when everyone returns. I know
those
chairs are safe. I’d better finish scrubbing up the blood.” Jilly laughed, rather wildly. “That’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say.”

She put on an apron and rubber gloves. She carried in a big pail of hot water, a new roll of paper towels, a plastic garbage bag, and a scrub brush. As she cleaned, she sang Christmas carols at the top of her voice. Soon all signs of blood had disappeared. She emptied the pail, double-checked the stew, then made herself a cup of tea and sank into a kitchen chair.

A noise made her turn her head. Rex slunk out of the laundry room, a pair of George’s boxer shorts hanging from his tail.

“Rex, you silly boy!”

Rex jumped on her lap and butted her chin, the way he did when he wanted her to pet him.

“Sweetie,” Jilly said, laughing and stroking the cat’s head, “you do look fetching in these boxers, but cats don’t ordinarily wear clothes.”

Rex didn’t even notice when she gently pulled the boxers
off his tail. He allowed her to pet him, then turned around a few times and curled up in her lap. He purred, and the purr was like a kind of calming om, a universal soothing mantra that vibrated through her body and smoothed out her racing thoughts. Jilly closed her eyes and relaxed.

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