Apples Should Be Red (10 page)

John laughed. “Are you kidding me? She is probably running around like a crazy person making sure every last detail is perfect. You know your mom.” He swung open the porch door with his foot. “Dad! We’re here.”

Karen and John stepped into the foyer and placed their boxes on the floor. “Mom!” Karen yelled. “Oh my God. Maybe they killed each other! We’re going to find dead bodies, I know it.” She bit her lip.

“Huh. That is sort of odd.” John peeked into the living room. “Oh fuck me.” He took a step back. “Karen, don’t go in there.”

“Are you kidding me? Dead bodies?”

“No. Live bodies.” John started to laugh.

“What is so funny?” Karen demanded and stomped over to the living room entrance. She stopped in her tracks and then began to slowly shake her head back and forth. “That’s not…possible. Not…no. No. Absolutely…No.”

John grabbed her hand and pulled her back to the foyer. His wife’s face was white. “Let’s give them some privacy, okay?”

“John.” Her voice trembled.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Um, I did not just see our parents on the sofa. Naked, under a blanket. With their arms around each other. Naked. Together.” Her eyes were wide. “Naked.”

“How about that? They didn’t kill each other.” John stroked her back in a soothing motion. He was trying like hell not to laugh again.

“John.” Her breath was labored.

“Uh-huh.” He couldn’t help himself. He started laughing.

“This is
not
funny! Not! Our parents hate each other. Your dad hates everyone! It’s not even possible in an alternate reality.” She bent over, trying to catch her breath. “Oh my God!”

“Jesus H. Christ! Who’s making such a racket out there! We’re trying to—” John heard his dad yell, and then some rustling from the other room.

Karen and John listened to the whispered conversation in shock.

“Bev, don’t be embarrassed.”

“I can’t believe we slept so late! I haven’t even cleaned up, or started dinner…”

“I told you not to worry about that. We’ll all pitch in.”

“Tom, help me find my clothes.”

“I don’t want to…”

“Now!”

John recognized that tone of voice. When Bev barked out an order like that, she meant business.

“I like you naked,” Tom said.

If possible, Karen’s face became paler.

“Tom, stop that!” Mrs. Anderson giggled.

John and Karen had been married for five years, and never, not once, had he heard Mrs. Anderson giggle. Not even close.

John shook his head. “That’s it. We’re out of here.” He led Karen right out the door to the front porch. She staggered outside. “Dad! We’ll wait in the car until you’re ready for us.” He held Karen’s hand and steered her to the back of the Volkswagen.

“Hon.”

Karen nodded. She seemed incapable of speech.

“It’s not that bad.”

“Really? It’s not? I’m thinking this heralds the commencement of the zombie apocalypse or something.”

John kissed her cheek. “Did you see them snuggled up together? They looked happy. My dad’s been lonely for a long time. Your mom…she deserves some fun.”

She slowly nodded her head. “I agree with both of those things. Your dad is lonely, but he also pushes people away. In spectacular fashion. My mom…I just can’t believe she had
fun
”—she cringed when she said the word and John snorted against his will—“with your dad.”

He coughed. “You know what I noticed?”

“What?” She plunked her head down on his shoulder and sighed. “What did you notice? That the entire world just tipped on its axis and we’ve entered a rip in the space-time continuum?”

“God, I love being married to a sci-fi geek. That really turns me on, babe.”

She laughed and punched him in the arm.

“No, that’s not what I noticed. What I noticed was they were both smiling. In their sleep.”

She raised her head and looked at him. “They were.”

“Uh-huh. Smiling.” He struggled to avoid another round of laughter.

“Oh my God!”

Karen was convinced.

It
was
a rip in the space-time continuum.

She watched in complete amazement as her mother chopped apples—gold and green apples, no less—and put them in a bowl. Her mom wore faded jeans, one of Tom’s old T-shirts, and not a speck of make-up. Or jewelry. The pearls were missing in action. Her fingernails were no longer daggers.

Tom kissed the back of her mom’s neck and Bev closed her eyes. In a sweet, relaxed moment of bliss. She couldn’t hide it.

Holy crap on a cracker, her mom was falling in love with Tom Jenkins.

If a comet filled with aliens exploded directly into the kitchen, Karen would not be more surprised.

Bev picked up a cube of apple and popped it into Tom’s mouth. He looked at her with complete focus and intensity, his bright blue eyes blazing. And then he leaned down and gave her a kiss right on the lips. A hot kiss.

Karen’s mom blushed and kissed him back.

“Karen? You’ve been washing that head of lettuce for about ten minutes. I’m pretty sure it’s clean by now.” John gently removed the greens from her hands and set them on the counter. “You okay, hon?”

She nodded.

“You sure? How about a glass of wine?”

She nodded harder.

“I’ll get you the wine. Babe?”

Karen turned to John and tried to ignore the parental drama in the background.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

She faced her husband, who wasn’t even trying to hide the smirk on his face. “If you say so.”

“Karen, can I help you with the salad?” Her mom suddenly materialized next to her. “I am so embarrassed Thanksgiving dinner isn’t ready. Forgive me?”

Her mother looked so nervous it broke Karen’s heart.

“Mom, I don’t care about the dinner. It’s no big deal. We have plenty of food.”

“Tom said you’d feel that way. I…” Her mom pursed her lips. “I felt like I had to produce a perfect dinner, just the way we used to have with your dad. I don’t want you to think that since your father has died I’m some sort of slacker or something.”

Karen shook her head in disbelief. “God, I wish you’d be a slacker for a while. There’s no reason to spend so much time creating a decorator showcase house and garden and meals. Just relax.” She glanced at Tom who nodded at her in solidarity.

I can’t believe I’m thinking this, but I actually have a feeling Tom Jenkins is good for my mother. Holy Crap!

“I had everything under control yesterday, and then some neighbors came over—”

“—and all hell broke loose. Bev doesn’t do so well when her system is fucked up.”

Bev glared at Tom.

He cleared his throat. “Excuse my French. Screwed up. I meant screwed up.”

John laughed so hard he started wheezing.

Karen slid her arm around Bev’s waist. “It’s okay. I sort of like doing this hodgepodge dinner. It’s fun.” She kissed her mom on the cheek. “Although I do think I need more alcohol.”

“Me too.” Her mom kissed her back, and the two of them smiled at each other.

Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Sleeping with Tom Jenkins?

I like him. I think he likes me, too.

“Ladies, please enjoy this fine Merlot, compliments of your host.” Tom offered both of them a glass of wine and tossed a beer can to his son.

Bev took a big gulp of her wine. “Well, I’ve never had such a ramshackle Thanksgiving meal before, but I guess we won’t starve. Every time I look around this room and see the mess and willy-nilly organization, I…” She glanced at Tom. “I feel like I’m jumping out of an airplane without a parachute.”

Tom removed the glass from Bev’s hands and pulled her into his arms. “I’ll catch you. Don’t worry.”

Karen turned her face away from them so they wouldn’t catch the tears in her eyes. John hugged her from behind and whispered, “I told you it was gonna be okay.”

She let the tears fall. “I do believe you may be right.”

“Those goddamned kids. They stole my gnome.” Tom scowled with his hands on his hips and glared at the empty spot in his garden. “I knew it! Not even twenty-four goddamned hours.”

John settled down on the stoop with his plate of food and peered at the garden. “Is that new? I don’t remember you having flowers in the front.” He frowned. “I don’t remember you having anything in the front. Except tick grass.”

Karen sat one step up from her husband and set her plate and glass of wine on the porch. “It looks great, Tom.”

Tom grunted. “Your mom did it. Got a bee in her bonnet about me being a hermit.” He held out a hand to Bev. “Can I help you sit on the stoop? How are your knees this morning?”

Bev grasped his hand. “Thank you. I can’t believe we are eating Thanksgiving dinner on paper plates, on the stoop. Martha Stewart would
not
approve.”

He sat down next to her and slid over until their hips touched. All he could think about was holding onto her naked hips and whispering dirty talk in her ear. Who knew Miss Prim and Proper could be so sexy and shy and sweet at the same time?

Miss Prim and Proper hadn’t been so proper last night.

“I’m digging this anti-Martha meal,” John said. “Beer can turkey on the grill, strawberry salad. Budweiser. I’m in heaven.” He dunked a piece of turkey into the gravy pool on his plate.

“I think we should start a new family tradition,” Tom said. “Thanksgiving on the stoop.”

“With canned gravy and canned cranberry sauce,” added Karen.

“My mother is turning over in her grave.” Bev sighed. “But I have to admit everything is delicious.”

“Especially the apple stuffing. Made with green and gold apples.” Tom taunted Bev with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. I noticed that,” Karen said. “My mom has a thing about red apples. How’d you get her to try the other colors?”

Bev rolled her eyes. “He harassed me until I gave in and admitted they were tasty. Maybe I was too adamant about the whole apple rule.”

“Maybe.” Tom jammed a forkful of stuffing into his mouth. “Jesus, this is good. Nice job, Bev.”

She beamed. Again. Tom swore she was glowing a bit this morning.

“Thank you, Tom.”

“Hey, Dad, looks like the neighbors are coming over for a visit.” John gestured to the Franklins who traipsed across his freshly mowed lawn, bearing pies.

“Remind me why we mowed the grass again?” Tom asked, glaring at Beverly.

“It won’t kill you to say hello,” she answered.

“We’re eating our holiday meal, for Christ’s sake.” He grumbled under his breath. “How long do you think it will take to regrow that grass four feet high?”

Beverly laughed.

“Happy Thanksgiving.” Jerome waved in greeting. Bev made introductions while the new neighbors took seats on the porch steps.

“Our family will be here in an hour or so, but we wanted to thank you for the use of your kitchen yesterday.” Jerome handed a pie to Bev. “I hope you didn’t mind our interference. This is one of Lil’s pecan pies. Really good. With bourbon in it.”

Bev nodded politely. “Thank you.”

About fourteen seconds later Paul DiBenedetto showed up, with a transparently innocent expression on his face.

“Time for pie?”

Tom shot Bev a sullen look. “Maybe I could plant a stinging nettle garden in the front. What do you think of that?”

She clasped his hand and kissed it. “I’m proud of you, Mr. Hermit. In the immortal words of a wise man,
everything’s gonna be fine
.”

“If he’s so damned wise, why doesn’t anyone ever listen to him?” And just because he could, and he wanted to, and he was still feeling irked and somewhat sorry for himself, he leaned over and kissed Beverly Anderson on the mouth.

With tongue.

Within half an hour, the hippies from the corner were making small talk with the Franklins, their pissy little dogs were sniffing around Bev’s new garden, and the idiot down the street who’d fallen off the trellis was hobbling over in his brand new cast with a platter of food.

Tom whispered in Beverly’s ear “Did I put a sign on the front lawn that says
please bug the holy living shit out of me, I like it
? ’Cause I don’t remember doing that.”

Bev laughed so hard, her shoulders shook.

The kid handed him some cookies.

“What’s this?” Tom asked, confused.