rated * adult themes

Hello readers:  This is the second major installment in my Rites of Passage universe.  If you haven’t read the first story, With Your Ghost, I suggest that you go to the archives and read it, because it’s good! (LOL).  However, if you’re like me and don’t have much time, and you want to jump in right here, here’s a quick recap to get you up to speed:

Jim and Trixie have broken up, due to reasons unknown.  What is known is that Jim is being a big stinker.  Trixie meets Jim’s new girlfriend, decks Jim and finally, decides to put Jim behind her.  This is where we pick up our story.  Now let’s...

Learn to Pretend

by Jill (franollie)

Part I

 

Trixie looked around the warm kitchen and sighed contentedly.  She loved this room, with its cherry table and chairs that fairly glowed, the refrigerator still covered with childhood artwork, windows that looked out over the winterized garden and the sense of home and peace that flowed through it.  What a roller coaster today has been, Trixie thought, but I feel better right now than I have for months.  Today is the first day of the rest of my life.  She giggled at that trite thought, but knew it was true. And I don’t need Jim Frayne to make me happy.

 

“What’s so funny, dear?” Helen asked, glancing sideways at her daughter, “Are you all right?”

 

“Oh, Moms,” Trixie declared, “I AM all right!  For the first time in a long time.  I’m all right.”  She reached over and hugged her mother tightly.

 

Tears welled up in Helen’s eyes.  Trixie had been pretending to be fine for months, but something must have happened today to change all that.  “I’m so glad, dear.  I’ve missed my girl.”

 

“I’m so sorry for all the worry, Moms.  You know, it was just really hard, and I’ve decided that it’s time for me to live for today and tomorrow, not for yesterday.  Dan’s been telling me that I need to do that, and I never really believed him until today.”  Trixie planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek and broke away. “I WILL move on.” 

 

There was a brisk knock at the back door, and then Mr. Maypenny opened it and stuck his head into the mudroom.  “Yoo-hoo!”  he called.  “I hear tell that there’s some mac and cheese being made.  Can me and the boy partake in the feast?”

 

Trixie and Helen exchanged smiles, and Trixie hurried forward to take jackets from Dan and Mr. Maypenny.  Peter and Bobby came striding into the kitchen to greet their guests followed by the Beldens' aging Irish setter, Reddy. 

 

The family settled into the wooden chairs and sat silently for a moment as Peter asked the blessing.  The silence was broken by the clink of cutlery, requests for this or that, and the general mayhem that always accompanied dinner at the Beldens'. 

 

It didn’t take long for the bowls and plates to be scraped clean, with Bobby looking for more.  “Honestly, Bobby,” Trixie joked, “you’re worse than Mart!”

 

Grinning Bobby replied, “I’m a growin’ boy, Trix.  Besides, someone’s got to keep up the family tradition, now that you’re all at school!  Reddy couldn’t handle all those leftovers, you know!”

 

Peter Belden chuckled at his son’s comment and stood to start clearing the table.  “Bobby, help me load the dishwasher, while your mother and Trixie get the games and our guests relax and digest.”

 

The voices carried into the night through the open kitchen window to the silent shadow lurking under the old apple trees.

 

 

Sometime later

 

“Boy’s name: Francis Flute! That’s two points to me!” Dan crowed, as groans resounded from inside the house.

 

“Forsooth, I knew that thou wert trouble when thou tookest that Shakespeare course at Hallie’s behest!” Trixie sighed.

 

“All right, all ready,” Bobby said, “now you sound like Mart, and one walking dictionary in a family is enough.  Let’s just add up the points.”  There was a silence.  Jim Frayne, moving into the shadow of the house, could hear slight movement.

 

“Jeepers, Mr. Maypenny, fifty points in three rounds!  You must be the world’s best Scattergories player!”

 

“Never underestimate an old man’s brain power!” Dan joked.  Laughter rang through the kitchen.

 

Peter Belden’s voice carried to Jim, as well.  “I think it’s time for us to say good-night.  I’ll finish loading the dishwasher and start it.”

 

“But--,” Helen protested

 

“No dear, you have to get up early for your garden club meeting tomorrow.  We’ll take care of cleaning up, Trixie will see our guests out, and you will finish the evening by relaxing.”  Chairs scraped as everyone followed Peter’s suggestions.

 

The back door swung open and Mr. Maypenny, Dan and Trixie walked out onto the back porch of the farmhouse.  Trixie hugged Mr. Maypenny and thanked him for coming, then she hugged Dan and gave him a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Thanks for everything, Liam.  You know I love you.”

 

Jim shook his head.  “Trixie and Dan,” he thought, “It makes sense.”  It was a match that didn’t surprise him.  They were always good friends.  It was a natural progression that they should start a relationship. “He’d better treat her well or...” his thoughts were interrupted by Dan calling, “I’ll be right there, Mr. Maypenny.” Jim crept forward to hear the rest of the conversation.

 

“Neptune, you’ll find someone.  You know that.  There is someone out there for you.”

 

Sighing, Trixie replied, “I know.”  Then she brightened a little, “But you know, right now I don’t care if there is or isn’t.  I need to have some fun, and I think I’m finally ready!”

 

Dan smoothed Trixie’s curls back from her forehead.  “That’s a girl.”

 

“And, you know, Dan, there’s someone for you, too.  There’s a lovely young Ms. Belden who-”

 

Cutting her off, Dan laughed, “Ok, matchmaker.”

 

“Good night, Liam.”

 

“Night, Neptune.”

 

He couldn’t do this.  He was going to chicken out—again.  He turned to leave and a stick cracked.  Trixie whirled around and froze, peering off into the cool October night.  She shivered.  Jim saw her eyes, wide and shining in the light from the kitchen windows.  On top of everything else, now he’d gone and scared her. 

 

Determining that it had simply been a deer, Trixie turned to enter the back door.

 

Jim sneezed.  He felt his face go red.

 

Trixie spun again.  “Who’s there?” She called.

 

Reluctantly Jim stepped forward from the shadows.  “It’s just me,” he sighed sheepishly.

 

Trixie’s reactions swirled as she tried to judge them.  She categorized them quickly: surprise at seeing him appear from the shadows; a nervousness which she pushed  away; a quickening of her heart as she looked at his wide eyes, she slammed that one down; and (finally a feeling she could work with) anger as she remembered how he had yelled at her earlier today.  “Have more nasty things to say to me, Jim?”

 

In the brief pause before she spoke, Jim watched her face reflect emotions from fear to anger to something in between that he couldn’t read.  He collected his thoughts, “Yes, actually Trixie, I do have a lot to say.”

 

She tossed her head and reached for the door.

 

“Please,” he pleaded, “I need to do this.”  Trixie paused at Jim’s tone.  She didn’t remember him ever sounding like that before.  She turned slowly toward him.

 

“Could we sit?” He asked, motioning to the steps.  Trixie walked to the edge of the porch and settled herself on the top step, wrapping her arms around her chest.  “First , I want to apologize for this afternoon.  What I did was wrong.  It was hurtful, and I don’t know why I did it.  I’m sure it wasn’t pleasant for you.”  Though it was the most beautiful kiss I can recall, he thought.

 

Not pleasant, Trixie thought, little does he know.

 

“Trixie,” Jim began, “There’s so much I haven’t told you.”     

 

Controlling her urge to exclaim, “Well, DUH!” She merely raised her sandy eyebrows.

 

Jim gulped.  He and Jodi had talked about the night spent, against his will, with Alyssa.  Jodi convinced him that he needed to see a counselor and had gone with him to his first session.  Ken Miller, his therapist, had done a lot of talking about how one night had changed his life forever.  Ken had suggested that he make amends with anyone that might have been indirectly or directly affected.  So here he was, talking with Trixie because Jodi had made him talk to someone else.  Jodi didn’t know he was here.  In fact, Jodi didn’t really know about Trixie.  All she knew was that they had dated.  She didn’t know about the years of smiles and glances, flowers and dances.

 

Unable to control herself any longer, Trixie said, “And apparently, you aren’t going to tell me anything.”

 

Jim snapped his attention back to the angry face below him and sat, too.  “Trixie, I’m sorry.  This is just a lot harder than I thought it would be.  I don’t know where to start.”

 

She glared at him.  “You want me to say that it’s all right, that you can take your time?  Would you like to begin at the very beginning?  I hear it’s a very good place to start.  Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve got better things to do with my time than wait for you to get over yourself, because I’ve finally gotten over you.”

 

She meant it. Really.  Take that Jim Frayne, she thought finally.  Trixie rose from the stop and headed again for the door.

 

“Please!  Wait!”  He had to stop her. He needed her to listen. “I’m not asking you to, well, I’m just asking you to listen.”

 

His desperate pleading stopped Trixie in her tracks, “I’m listening.”

 

“You remember Spring Break.”

 

Trixie stared wordlessly.

 

Jim gave himself a mental head slap.  “Stupid question, sorry.”  He breathed deeply.  She had already told him she had moved on, or was trying to.  In order to move on completely himself, in order to heal; he needed closure; he needed to do this.  “You know that Jake and Josh and I had thrown a party.”

 

Silence from Trixie.

 

“It got pretty wild.  I had a drink or two, just to de-stress.  Then Jake and Josh kept filling my cup, and I lost track of how much I had.  They introduced me to a girl I had class with, Alyssa.  We got to talking about my folks, and she wanted to see a picture.  So we went up to my room and,” he breathed deeply again.  He could see the questions in Trixie’s eyes, along with, what was it, accusation?  “She kissed me...I was drunk...and...I don’t know...I don’t really remember...I couldn’t tell you,” he was breathing shallowly now, speaking faster.  “I woke up the next morning, and there was note from Alyssa.  I couldn’t tell you,” he repeated.  “What would you have thought of me?  I had always been the honorable one, and I had betrayed you in the worst way.”  He slowed his breathing again, tears filling his eyes.  “I’m sorry.”  He followed his apology with a long pause.  “I don’t expect you to accept my apology, forgive me, or even ever speak to me again, but I needed to tell you and to have you know what I was such an incredible jerk.”

 

Furiously, Trixie sprang from the step.  “You couldn’t tell me?!  I was the person you should have told!  I can’t believe you Jim Frayne.  You get hurt, you get–you get–“ she groped for the word, but couldn’t bring herself to say it, “violated, and you can’t tell me?  Did you not trust me?  Did you think I would hate you for it?”

 

Yes, I did, Jim thought miserably. Aloud he said, “I thought it would hurt you more to know I was unfaithful.” Even Jonesy was faithful, and he’s the most worthless man I know.  Hunching his shoulders, Jim stared at the ground.  This was harder than he imagined.  “I just needed you to know.  I’ll stay out of your way.”  He turned, paused, “I’m so sorry,” he said again.  Turning from his best friend, for even now that’s how he thought of her, he stumbled down the steps and began to trudge through the garden, up the overgrown path to the Manor House.

 

Trixie watched him, tears of anger in her eyes.  The moon shone on his red hair, making it look silvery. She saw the slump of his proud posture, the defeated steps he took on his way toward home and out of her life...forever.  Good, she thought defiantly, it’s no more than he deserves, keeping it from me, his girlfriend, his best friend.  Jim continued his stubborn march away from Crabapple Farm. 

 

A memory of Honey’s voice floated through her mind, “If ever one of us is ever in need, we’ll never fail him or her?”  Though they had grown apart, they were still Bob-Whites and, Trixie felt a flood of empathy for Jim. Her psychology professor would probably even commend his courage in seeking her out, trying to make amends.  Suddenly, a horrible notion flew into her mind, What if he was sick?  Without a second thought, Trixie flew down the steps and up the garden path.  “Jim,” she called, “are you okay?”

 

Well that’s a stupid question, he thought mockingly.  Before his stupid mouth could make a stupid statement about her stupid question, he paused and drew breath.  “Trixie, I’m not okay.”

 

“Oh no, Jim!” She cried impulsively, “It’s not life threatening, is it?”  

 

He stared dumbly at her.  “Life threatening?”

 

“You just told me that you’re not okay–that you’re sick.”

 

Light dawned.  He started laughing, took one look at the horrified expression on Trixie’s face and only laughed harder.  “Trixie,” he gasped, “physically I’m fine.  She didn’t give me cooties or any other nasty germs.”

 

For a moment, Trixie wanted to slap his face, and then she realized why he was laughing: all the stress of their conversation, his courage in finally confiding in her, the way she had (as usual) jumped to a conclusion had been too much.  She started laughing as well.  “Cooties!”she gasped. “Jeepers, Jim, I’m so glad you’re not sick.”  The two friends laughed together, something they hadn’t done in months.  Once they had calmed down, Trixie asked, “So, are you seeing a counselor?”

 

“Yes,” Jim replied.  “It was he who convinced me that it would be healthy to speak to the people I had hurt.  I’ll be telling the rest of the BWGs soon.  I wanted to tell you first, though.”

 

“And, and does Jodi know?”  Trixie forced the question out.

 

Soberly, Jim said, “Yes, she was actually the first person I talked to about it. She convinced me that I couldn’t handle the guilt on my own and introduced me to my therapist.”

 

Trixie then said, with great dignity, “If Jodi convinced you to get help, she must be a pretty decent person.”

 

“Yes,” Jim agreed.  “She is.  Listen, Trixie, you know, I really am sorry.”

 

“I know, Jim.”  There was a long pause as they looked at each other. “I can’t be your best friend right now.  I’ve got a lot to work through myself.  I actually decided that I would put you in my past today, and now my opinion of you is changing again.”

 

“I’d like to regain your trust, Trix.”

 

“It’ll take time, Jim.”

 

“Time I’ve got.”  He held out his right hand.  “Shake?” 

 

Solemnly, they shook hands.

 

 

Part II

Jim walked Trixie back to the farmhouse in silence.  They bade each other good night, and turned their separate ways. 

 

Trixie waited until Jim’s form disappeared from sight,  and then she flipped off the porch light.  She walked quietly through the kitchen, quietly up the stairs and quietly to her bedroom.  She got ready for bed, and lay down under the covers, the quilt pulled up to her chin, her mind anything but quiet. Her thoughts spun from one topic to the next.

 

In all the years she’d been friends with Jim, dated Jim, been in love with Jim, he always dealt with tough issues on his own.  He worked through the death of his father and mother, Jonesy’s abuse, the discovery of the nearly ruined Ten Acres, alone.  Occasionally, he relied on the Trixie and other Bob Whites, but often, he preferred to internalize his troubles.  How many times had she asked him to talk with someone?  How many times had Honey, Brian, and Dan mentioned that if Jim would just let some of his emotions out instead of keeping them bottled up, he might not exhibit that famous temper?  Jodi, Trixie mused, must be more than pretty decent.  She must be a miracle worker.

 

After finishing that thought, Trixie realized she thought Jodi was probably even nice.  Trixie rolled into her favorite sleeping position, on her stomach, quilt pulled firmly over her head.  If this was a romance novel, she thought, we’d be back together now.  She snorted after that meditation.  Truthfully, I’m glad it’s not. She drifted off to sleep.

 

 

Back at the Manor House

 

Jim unlocked the kitchen door and slipped into the kitchen.  He walked quietly through the kitchen and up the back stairs, down the long hallway toward his room.  He paused outside the door to Honey’s room.  How many times had he stood outside this door, listening to the girls giggle the night away?  He smiled wryly and continued to his room.  He turned on his study lamp and kicked off his shoes.  Sinking onto his leather desk chair, he sighed and buried his head in his hands. He felt so relieved. He told Trixie everything, and he was still alive.  Ken said he would be.  Ken did advise him not to think that he and Trixie would be best friends right away, or even ever again, but telling her was a necessary part of the healing process.  Jim snorted and rolled his eyes: healing process.  A month ago, he would have done more than snort.  He would have laughed out loud if someone had encouraged him to go through a “healing process.”  He would have encouraged them to take a long walk off a short pier.

 

Now what? Jim wondered.  This was only the first step in his “process.”  Part of the deal he and Ken discussed was to make amends with everyone he had hurt.  He told Trixie that his plan was to tell the Bob-Whites soon because all of them were affected by his actions.  Even though they tried not to take sides, the loyalties of the group were divided.  It stressed each of them.  Thinking back to those days right after the break up still made him sick to his stomach: the phone calls from Honey, the angry emails from Brian and Mart, and the probing emails from Dan and Diana.  Because of one stupid night, friendships strained and nearly broke.  Because of me, breathing deeply, Jim stopped himself.  Take the responsibility you need, but not everything bad in the world is your fault. He had no idea how he would tell his friends, or when, but someday they would need to know. 

 

 

Part III

 

Dan Mangan stretched out his long legs in front of him, wiggled his toes, and let out a sigh of contentment.  “That was the best dinner ever!”  The fullness in his stomach, the yellow glow of the floor lamps and the comfort of the sofa were making him feel sleepy.  “If I could go to sleep right now and not wake up until Thanksgiving, I’d be happy.”  He sighed again.  “Did I mention that was the best dinner EVER?”

 

A beautiful young woman with snapping blackberry eyes walked into the tiny room that served as living room, dining room and bedroom for the apartment.  She threw Dan a wicked grin.  “It certainly was the best dinner EVER.  I can do take-out with the champs!”  She smacked his feet off the low coffee table.  “I’ll thank you to remember that you’re in polite company here, not with your roommates where belching and scratching is the way you end a meal.”

 

“Aw, come on, Hal,” he wheedled, “I just need a good stretch and a good...”

“You need a good something, but I doubt it’s a stretch!” she retorted.

 

“Hallie Belden, as I live and breathe,” drawled Dan fanning himself with his hand, “Is this an indecent proposal?”

 

Hallie glared down her long nose at the young man sprawled across her couch in her New York City apartment.  There was a time, she thought, there was a time.  Then she sniffed and tossed her head, looking for all the world like her petite, blonde cousin.  “You need to get your mind out of the gutter, boy.  I was thinking that you needed a good, swift boot to the head to get you straightened out!”

 

Suddenly, Dan’s demeanor changed.  He drew his head down into his hands and ran his fingers threw is dark hair causing it to stand up wildly. “I know, I know.” He groaned.  “I’m pathetic.”

 

Hallie looked pityingly at him.  She sank down onto the couch.  “You’ve got it bad.  Are you going to tell me who the lucky lady is?”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Gleeps, Dan, this isn’t junior high!”  Hallie snapped.  “Are you embarrassed of her?”

 

“Not embarrassed, outclassed!”

 

Her eyes flashed, she shot from the couch, and before he could defend himself, she was throwing punches and performing expert wrestling holds.

 

This continued for a few minutes before Dan cried, “Uncle, uncle!” He was laughing now.

 

“Say ‘I am a classy guy.’”

 

“Hallie is a classy guy,” he replied breathlessly.

 

She twisted his arm. 

 

“Ouch! Hallie!”

 

“Say it!”

 

“I am a classy guy.”

 

“Say ‘I will NEVER again call myself outclassed by another human being.”

 

“Come on!”

 

“I will give you the worst Indian burn you’ve ever had if you don’t say it,” she said, with another determined twist on his arm.

 

“Ok, ok!  If I say it, will you promise to get off me?”

 

“Yes, now say it!”

 

“I will never again call myself outclassed by another human being,” he mumbled.  “Happy now?”

 

“Not really,” she said, but reluctantly released him.  “So, who is she?”

 

“Just a girl,” he said quietly.

 

“She must be much more than just a girl to have you acting so pathetic,” Hallie stated. “Is she someone I know?”

 

Dan sighed, “Yes.”

 

“Someone I know well?”

 

“Yes.”

 

She settled herself again next to Dan on the couch.  “Well, let’s see if hanging out with my cousin has taught me anything.   We both know that ‘mystery chick’ is not me.” Hallie said, smiling ruefully.  After she moved to the East for school, they had gone out a couple of times.  It only took a few dates for them to realize that they worked best as friends.  The passion just wasn’t there, and they both wanted passion in their lives.  The rest of the Bob Whites insisted on inviting them to functions as a couple, but they didn’t fight it: It was more convenient that way.

“And ‘mystery chick’ is not Trixie.  She knows too much about you!”

 

“You’ve got that right!” Dan chuckled.  “She’s doing better now, you know.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Hallie replied.  “I’ve been getting emails about all the guys she’s seeing, and how much fun she’s having.  She’s coming home for Thanksgiving, right?”

 

Dan raised his eyebrows.  “Do you really think she’d miss it, regardless of how many boys she’s got?  I’m supposed to pick her up on Tuesday afternoon.”

 

“Just her?” Hallie questioned.  “What about Honey and Diana?”

 

“Well, Diana doesn’t have any Tuesday classes, so she’s going home on Monday afternoon to spend a full day with her family before Mart gets back from Penn State.” Dan responded.

 

“And Honey?”

 

Glancing away, Dan said quickly, “I don’t know about Honey.  She’s probably got somewhere more important to be.”

 

Now it was Hallie’s turn to raise eyebrows.  “Someplace more important than Crabapple Farm for Thanksgiving?  Are we talking about the same Honey?”  Watching Dan’s face, Hallie understood.  “‘Mystery chick’ is Madeleine–I’m an heiress, and I’m gorgeous, but I don’t have a snobby bone in my body–Wheeler!”

 

Dan again covered his face with his hands. “I’m so gone,” he moaned.

 

Hallie laughed sympathetically, “You are.  What are you going to do about it?”

 

With wide eyes, Dan guffawed, “Do about it?”

 

“Yes, what are you going to do about it?”

 

“Hallie,” Dan stated firmly, “I’m not going to do anything about it.  She is, as you so eloquently put it, ‘Madeleine–I’m an heiress, and I’m gorgeous, but I don’t have a snobby bone in my body–Wheeler.’  I can’t offer her anything, and her dad would kill me.”

 

Hallie punched his arm, hard.

 

“Ow!” He yelped, “What the heck was that?”

 

“That, Daniel Patrick Mangan, was for basically saying, again, that you are outclassed!  We just finished that discussion!” She stated, just as firmly as he.  “If she has any common sense at all, she’ll jump at the chance to be with you.”

 

“Right,” he muttered.

 

She grabbed his hands.  “Dan, look at me.” 

 

He did. 

 

“You’ve got to stop thinking of yourself like you do.  You are not a gang member who’s just pretending he’s gone straight.  You made mistakes: a decade ago you made mistakes.  You’ve provided recompense for the bad you’ve done.  Your moral standards are above reproach.”

 

“I’ve dated a lot of girls.”

 

“Sheesh!  You’ve dated a lot of girls, and I know what your reputation is, but I also know it’s not true.  Everyone thinks you’ve done much more than you have because you don’t kiss and tell.”  She squeezed his hands and winked.  “It does give you a nice air of mystery, you know.”

 

“Even if she would have me, I can’t give her everything that she’s used to.”

“Stop making excuses! You worked your way through college and grad school.  You’ve saved money; you’ve invested money, and invested it well.  And come on, Dan, Honey doesn’t live in the lap of luxury.”

 

“But she could,” he whined.

 

“That is IT!” She snatched her hands from his grasp.  “If you want to whine about how she’ll never like you, then don’t do it here! You’re better than this.  Whiny Dan is really not attractive!  I think you’re scared.  I can’t believe the fact that you want to ask her one simple question like, maybe, ‘Want to get coffee?’ has got you acting like a thirteen-year-old.  Get over it and get over yourself!  If you don’t make a move, what will you do?  Wonder about it for the rest of your life.  What’s the worst that can happen, you big baby!?”  She stormed from the room.

 

Not brave enough to voice his fears, he thought, “She’ll say ‘no.’”

 

 

 

Part IV

 

“Ma nuh, ma nuh–doo, doo, do, do, do.  Ma nuh, ma nuh, doo, do, do, do.  Ma nuh, ma nuh, doo, doo, do, do, do, do, do, do...” The Muppet’s ring tone caused Honey to look up from her notes.  She fumbled in her bag for her cell phone as the Muppets continued their song.  Glancing at the number, Honey smiled and flipped the phone open.  “Hey, Brian,” she said.  “What’s up?”

 

A deep voice chuckled.  “How’d you know it was me?”

 

“You’ve called from so many hospital phones, I’ve just programmed them all as you!”

 

“You’re wonderful!”

 

She giggled. “I know.  Now, Dr. Belden, what can I do for you?”

 

“Moms figured I’d be talking to you before Thanksgiving, so she wanted me to ask if you were coming to the Open House.  Apparently my lovely sister was supposed to let Moms know, but for some reason...” he sighed.

 

“Trixie’s been crazy lately. Her schedule is insane, she’s working a couple of shifts a week at the dining hall, just for a little Chinese food money, and she’s still seeing...”

 

“Yeah,” Brian interrupted, “What was his name?”

 

Giggling again, Honey quipped, “What isn’t his name?”

 

“WHAT?” Brian yelped.  “You mean to tell me that–she’s–more than one–isn’t  his name?” Brian sputtered.

 

“Bri, calm down,” Honey soothed.  “She’s just been having study dates in the library and dinner at the student union with guys from her classes.  At least she’s not moping anymore.  She deserves better.” 

 

Brian pressed, “Are you sure she’s doing well?”

 

“Yes, Brian.  She’s having fun for the first time in months.  Don’t worry, she’s fine.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he paused.  “Oh, right, are you coming?”

 

“Of course!  Would I miss Moms’s famous stuffing, or Mart’s famous stuffing of himself?”

 

Brian, laughing, replied, “Great!  I’ll let Moms know. See you Thursday!”

 

“Thursday?  You’re kidding?  You have time to come to the Open House?  Isn’t there some law about residents having to work every holiday for their whole residency?”

 

“I was thinking about working, but we’re only allowed to work eighty hour weeks since that new legislation passed.  So I figured, hey, might as well come home with Mart tonight and see everyone.”

 

“That’s wonderful, Brian!  I can’t wait to see you.  I’ll have a hug waiting!”

 

“Bye.”

 

She closed her phone and looked down at the notes she was reviewing.  She flipped the notebook closed and stretched.  The quad was nearly empty.  Many people made the choice to skip their Monday and Tuesday classes and get an extra long holiday, but Honey couldn’t bring herself to do that.  She liked her Tuesday classes, and she liked being on campus when most of the students weren’t there.  Today was especially nice, with the unseasonable temperatures giving her the opportunity to simply enjoy being outside in jeans and a sweatshirt.

 

A group of guys jogged by, slowing to scan her appreciatively as she lounged on the grass.  From behind her pink tinted sunglasses she scanned appreciatively in return, but found nothing to linger over.  None of them, attractive though they were, had what she was looking for, though she wasn’t exactly sure what that illusive something was.

 

Honey reminisced to a time a couple of years ago when she and Brian had the big “B-U,” as they liked to call it.  It had caused a lot of pain, not for the two of them, but for their friends, so she and Brian were forbidden to speak of it to the other BWGs.

 

For four years, from her freshman to senior year, they dated.  Brian escorted her to every dance and major social event of her high school career.  The other girls at Sleepyside Jr.-Sr. High gushed to Honey every chance they got about her college boyfriend, and they tried to convince her to convince Brian to set them up with roommates, classmates, or guys he might see while sitting in the dining hall.  Brian was one of her best friends.  All was perfectly perfect.  Except it wasn’t.  Despite loving every moment she spent with Brian, and thoroughly enjoying the awe with which other girls viewed her, she felt there was something missing–once again, that illusive something.  She liked Brian, loved Brian, but she wanted more.

 

The summer before she started college, they talked.  They went for a drive in Brian’s barely street legal jalopy, and parked on the road that ran in front of Ten Acres.  They talked for hours.  To Honey’s relief, and Brian’s as well, they found that they were both looking for the illusive something, but weren’t finding it in each other. They broke up.

 

The others viewed the “B-U” as a plague on humanity.  They brain-stormed, schemed and plotted to get them back together, firmly believing that Brian and Honey were meant to be. The ruses their friends contrived culminated the day that the former boyfriend and girlfriend found themselves locked in the boathouse for a sweltering summer afternoon.  After their escape, Honey and Brian called an emergency meeting of the Bob-Whites and demanded to be treated like adults and trusted with their own lives.  Grudgingly, the group agreed that perhaps the two of them knew what they were doing, and so, vowed never again to speak of the horrid “B-U.”  

 

In splitting up, Honey and Brian grew even closer and found new aspects to their friendship.  They still spoke on the phone nearly every day and often commiserated about their dates and truth be told, often made fun of the nice, but not perfectly perfect, people they went out with.

 

“Ma nuh, ma nuh–doo, doo, do, do, do.  Ma nuh, ma nuh, doo, do, do, do.  Ma nuh, ma nuh, doo, doo, do, do, do, do, do, do...” The Muppet’s ring tone shook Honey from her reverie.  She glanced at the number and flipped open the phone.

 

“Ma nuh, ma nuh,” sang a deep, lilting voice.

 

“Doo, doo, do, do, do,” she replied brightly. “Hi Dan!”

 

“Hey, uh, Honey,” Dan stammered, “I can’t get Trixie on her cell, and I wanted to let her know that I’m running late.  I won’t get there until after five to pick her up, and I know she wanted to leave by two to get home to help her mom.”

 

Sighing, Honey said, “Oh, Dan, she didn’t call you?  She left with Diana this morning.”

 

Dan chuckled, “You mean, Miss “I-Can’t-Miss-a-Class-or-the-World-Will-Implode” Belden cut her environmental law lecture? Wouldn’t it figure!?”

 

“Actually, the prof cancelled, and she decided that it would make more sense to grab a ride with Di instead of wasting hours here.  She rushed out so fast this morning, she must have forgotten to call you.”

 

There was a pause.  “Well,” Dan said, “it’s no big deal.  She really needed some extra time at home anyway.  I can just skip the exit and go straight to Sleepyside.”

 

Honey thought quickly. “Actually,” she said again, “would you mind stopping here and getting me?  My car’s in the shop, and Tom was going to come out early tomorrow morning since I’ve got this late class and all, but since you’re going to be late anyway, and I’ve still got  my class, it would save on gas, and you’d have company,” she finished hurriedly. 

 

There was another, longer pause before Dan replied. “Sure,” he said slowly, “I’m going right past your exit anyway.  Like I said, I won’t be there until after five, though.”

 

“That’s fine,” Honey said. “My class doesn’t get out until four fifteen, and I still need to pack.  I’ll call Tom right now and let him know he can sleep in tomorrow.”

 

“That’ll be nice for him,” Dan murmured.

 

“It’s so nice of you!  You’re a lifesaver, or at least a gasoline saver.  Thanks, Dan.  I’ll see you at five,” Honey sang out.

 

The connection ended.  “Yeah,” Dan said softly, staring at his phone. “See you.” 

 

The sound of a telephone rang through the halls of the Manor House.  A middle-aged woman in black slacks, a red sweater and sensible shoes picked up the receiver.  “Good afternoon, Manor House,” she said in a well-cultured voice.  “Margery Trask speaking.”

 

“Good afternoon, Ms. Trask.  This is Honey.  Would you please get a message to Tom for me?”

 

Margery smiled at the bright sound of the young woman’s voice.  “Certainly, Honey, what do you need?”  She selected a gold Cross pen from the tumbler on the table, pulled a pad of monogrammed stationery toward her and poised the pen over it.

 

“Well,” Honey began, “Dan’s supposed to get Trixie, but she’s already home, so he’ll pick me up, but he’ll be later than he told Trixie, but I was having Tom come tomorrow morning to pick me up, so Tom can stay home, and I’ll be home earlier than before Dan got stuck in traffic, and before Trixie would have gotten home because she’s already there,” Honey paused.  “Did you get it?”

 

Chuckling and placing the pen back in the cup without writing a word, Ms. Trask said, “I’ll certainly tell Tom that he may sleep in tomorrow.  See you tonight, dear.”

“Bye, Ms. Trask, I have class now.”

 

Margery hung up the phone and smiled at Honey’s bubbling speech.  She remembered the sick, frail child that Honey once had been.  She had grown up so much, though on occasion, when she was nervous or excited, her tendency to ramble returned.  Ms. Trask was fluent in “Honey-speak” as the kids called it, so she always understood what Honey was trying to say: what she didn’t understand was why Honey hadn’t been coming home with Dan in the first place.

 

 

 

The hands on the clock in the tiny living room approached 5:45 as Honey glanced around making sure that she had all her things ready to go.  Her suitcase was packed, her makeup bag was sitting next to it, and her backpack and laptop lay on top of the coffee table.  She knew she wouldn’t have time to do any schoolwork over the five-day break, but just making the effort to bring the stuff home made her feel responsible. 

 

A knock to the rhythm of “shave and a haircut” sounded on the door.  Honey jumped, smoothed her hair and crossed the room.  She flung open the door to find a tired looking Dan Mangan waiting on the front porch.

 

“Dan!” Honey cried, throwing her arms around him for a hug.  “You look beat! Was traffic that terrible?”

 

He slowly pulled out of the hug and grinned sheepishly. “Yes, traffic was terrible,” he confirmed, “but more likely I look tired because I spent this past weekend finishing every paper that I have to write for the rest of the semester.  Basically, all I have to do now is show up for class and study for a couple of finals,” he paused, “and I still have to finish my master’s thesis proposal and get it approved, but I’ve got some ideas.”

 

“Well, other than that small, little detail you are a lucky duck!” Honey laughed.  “I always wait until the last minute.”

 

“Speaking of the last minute or maybe the late minute,” Dan said, “shall we go?”

“We shall,” Honey agreed.  With the ease of much practice, Honey slung books and laptop over one shoulder, makeup bag over the other and reached for her suitcase. Before she could get a grip on it, however, Dan sprang forward.

 

Honey shot him a teasingly scathing look. “I am perfectly capable of carrying my own bag, Mr. Mangan.”

 

Dan looked instantly contrite, but did not relinquish the bag.  “And I, Ms. Wheeler, am perfectly capable of acting like a gentleman.”

 

“Despite all reports to the contrary?” Honey snorted.

 

“Yes,” he replied seriously, taking a risk and meeting her eyes for a long moment. “Despite all reports to the contrary.”

 

Honey blushed and looked away. 

 

 

 

 

“Why is Sleepyside the prettiest place in the world?” Honey mused, looking out the window as Dan drove through the quiet town.  Many of the shops were already decorated for Christmas, and a sudden drop in temperature let a few snow flurries begin.

 

Inwardly, Dan groaned.  A conversation he had with Trixie just a few weeks ago began the exact same way, and his contributions hadn’t been appreciated.  He wracked his brain trying to think of an appropriate comment when Honey answered her own question.

 

“I guess it’s because I have so many good memories of this place,” she mused.  “It’s the first place where I ever felt like I truly belonged.  People here didn’t pretend to like me because my parents were the ‘Wheelers’ or because I was rich.  I was always just ‘Honey.’ You know?” She turned from the window and looked at Dan.

 

“I do know,” Dan smiled wanly.  “I always belonged with my mom and dad, but after they died, I was on my own.  Well, you know the whole story,” Dan finished lamely, glancing over at her, but flicking his eyes quickly back to the road before them.

 

Honey was still looking at him. “I often think about the life histories in our little group. You, Jim, Diana and me, even Trixie, Mart and Brian.  We’ve each had times where we felt like we didn’t belong, but once we found each other, it was like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle fitting together–different pieces that mean nothing singly, but joined to make one beautiful picture.” She smiled, proud of her analogy.

 

“That’s a ‘perfectly perfect’ way to put it, Honey,” Dan agreed.  “It’s like we were always meant to find each other, in order to do the good we were put on the Earth to do.”

 

“Exactly!” Honey shouted, then covered her mouth with her hand.  “Sorry to yell, Dan, but that’s exactly how I feel about it.  Even with all the troubles the group’s been having lately, with Trixie and Jim...” she trailed off.

 

Dan chuckled. “You know, the Bob-Whites may have been meant to meet,” he began, “but we are a bunch of buttinskis, thinking we know what’s best for everyone.  It seems like we all believe that we should pair off conveniently: Mart with Diana, Jim with Trixie, me with Hallie, and you with Brian.”

 

Honey groaned, “Don’t start that ‘Brian and Honey’ business again.  We’re friends, nothing more.  It only looked like we were meant to be. Now you and Hallie, though, that’s a good match!”

 

Dan mimicked her groan, “Don’t start that ‘Dan and Hallie’ business again! At least we didn’t date for years before we figured out that we were better as friends.  We’ve got the smarts,” Dan joked.

 

Honey poked him in the shoulder. “You’ve got the smart alecks!”

 

“Ow,” Dan laughed, “that hurt!”

 

Joining him in laughter, Honey responded, “Never underestimate the power of well- manicured nails!”

 

“You could be a super hero–Womanicure!”

 

Laughing harder, Honey said, “Yes!  That’s right! I’m buff!  I could have a nail file of justice!  I’ll polish off crime!”

 

“You could really nail the bad guys!”

 

“My archenemy could be the evil ‘Hangnail!’”

 

“And the people who help you save the world–they could be,” Dan was gasping for breath.

 

“Out with it, Mangan, they could be who?”

 

“The Emery Board!”

 

Honey wiped tears from her eyes, “That’s perfectly perfect, Dan!  I haven’t laughed this hard in ages!  You’re the best!”

 

“Why thank you, Ms. Wheeler. Side-splitting laughter is just one service we offer,” Dan said, recovering from the laughing. He maneuvered his Civic up the Manor House drive. “Door-to-door transportation is another.”

 

“Are we here already?  That was the fastest ride home from school I ever remember!”

 

“Just another facet of service from Mangan Incorporated,” Dan said, putting the car into park.

 

“I should always ride home with you. You’re such a great friend.  I’ll see you Thursday at the Open House, right?” she bubbled.

 

“Right,” he said.

 

Honey gathered her luggage and dashed toward the welcoming glow of the Manor House, where Ms. Trask stood waiting on the veranda.   Suddenly Honey stopped and whirled back to the car, gesturing for Dan to roll down the window.  She threw her arms into the car and gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you so much for the ride.” Just as suddenly, she was spinning back to the house, a whirlwind of books and clothes.

 

Stunned, Dan sat for a moment. “You’re welcome.”

 

 

Part V

 

Wednesday morning dawned crisp and cold with a few inches of snow covering the evergreens in the yard of Crabapple Farm.  The smell of coffee and bacon wafted through the house, rousing all the inhabitants from their rest.  Trixie snuggled for a moment under her warm, hand-stitched quilt, a gift from Aunt Alicia.  She simply let herself be for a few more minutes until the beckon of breakfast and the thought of her beloved family drew her from her cocoon.  She slid her feet into slippers and pulled on sweat pants and shirt over her shorts and t-shirt and padded down to the kitchen, expecting to see Moms in all her domestic glory.  Much to her surprise, she discovered Mart and Bobby preparing the morning meal.  The coffee was perking, the table was set; there were pancakes stacked at each person’s place.  Trixie gaped.

 

“Good morning, sister mine,” Mart greeted her, smiling.  “What can young Robert bring to you?”

 

Trixie stared dumbly at them.

 

“Come on, Trix,” Bobby cajoled, “Get while the gettin’s good. This will be all we eat until the work for the open house is done.  You’ll have to survive for hours!”

 

Finally she regained her composure, plopped into her chair and ordered, “Two dippy eggs, wheat toast, bacon, sausage, and orange juice. These pancakes right here should do for an appetizer!” She picked up her fork and started munching happily.  “This,” she sighed, “is so much better than dining hall food.  I had no idea the two of you could cook.”

 

“It seems I taught them well,” Helen Belden walked into the kitchen.  “I thought I was dreaming when I smelled breakfast.  Thank you so much, boys.”

 

“Brian and I’ll do the clean up,” Trixie volunteered through a mouthful of food.

“Trixie,” her mother warned.

 

She chewed and swallowed, “Sorry, Moms.  You taught me better than that,” she said sheepishly.  “But it’s so GOOD!”

 

“You also might not want to volunteer Brian to do more work when he’s been up since five helping your father shovel the driveway and walks.”

 

“Gleeps, Moms!” Trixie shouted.  “Since FIVE, and it’s his vacation, too.  I’ll do all the clean up myself.”  Even though it will probably take me hours, she thought miserably.  Some things never change.  I’m still looking for ways to get out of housework.

 

“I’m sure, darling daughter, that someone very capable will help you clean up, but for now, don’t worry about cleaning, think about this wonderful breakfast.”

 

At that moment, the back door opened and the sounds of laughter and feet being stamped clean of snow entered the kitchen. 

 

“Honestly, Mr. Belden, it wasn’t Brian who hit you with the snowball.  It was me!”

 

Trixie leapt from her chair, her fork clattering on the plate and barreled into the mud room.  “Honey!” She squealed. She enveloped her friend in a huge hug.

 

In the kitchen Mart rolled his eyes at his mother.  “Sheesh,” he said, “You’d think they lived on opposite sides of the globe, not the hallway.”

 

“I can’t believe you’re home already.  Tom must have left at, like, three o’clock to go get you!” Trixie said.

 

“Hi, Trixie!” Honey laughed. There was a brief pause while Honey removed her coat and hung it up before she finished speaking, “Actually, Trix, I came home last night with Dan.”

 

The words were barely out of her mouth before Trixie groaned, “Darn! Dan!  I was supposed to call him, and I didn’t. He had to waste all that gas. Was he awfully mad, Honey?”      

 

The girls worked their way back into the kitchen where Trixie’s requested breakfast had found its way onto her plate. 

 

“No, he wasn’t mad, Trixie,” Honey assured her. “And besides, there was no wasted gas, he brought me home instead.  That way Tom could sleep in today.” She lifted her fork and took a dainty bite of pancake.

 

Bobby looked quizzically at Honey. “Hey, Honey, why wasn’t Dan goin’ to bring you home in the first place?”

 

“Good point, Bobby,” Brian said slyly. “It did seem a little strange.”

 

Honey took a huge bite of pancake and turned beet red, a shade usually reserved for Trixie, and shook her head.  She mumbled something unintelligible, swallowed and then stammered helplessly, before finally, Brian came to her rescue.

 

“Would someone get the girl something to eat besides pancakes?  She’s going to get roped into cleaning up this mess, she’ll need all the energy she can get.  So, Dad,” Brian said, deftly switching the subject, “How about that great snowball Honey threw?”

 

It seemed as though all of Sleepyside visited Crabapple Farm that Thanksgiving.  At one o’clock people started arriving, mostly Mr. Belden’s co-workers from the bank and Moms’s friends from Garden club.  They brought covered dishes, salads, desserts and drinks.  The tables in both the dining room and kitchen were groaning, and bowls of snacks rested on any horizontal surface.  Brian, Mart and Bobby took turns directing the guests where to park.  There was a brief lull around five, but by six the Glen Road crowd began arriving.  Mr. Maypenny, Mr. Lytell, Old Brom, and the families of all the Bob Whites came.  The older adults gravitated to the living room of the farmhouse, the youngest of the visitors piled into Bobby’s room to play video games and the young adults squeezed into the den to talk and play games. 

Jim and Jodi approached the porch of Crabapple Farm, hand in hand.  Lights shone warmly from almost every window.

 

Despite the inviting look of the house, Jodi stopped before stepping from the path to the stairs and pulled her hand from Jim’s. 

 

He paused, one foot on the stair.  “They like you. It’s going to be fine, ” he paused briefly.  “This was your idea.”

 

“I know,” she replied.  “But now that we’re here, I don’t know if it was the right decision, but I didn’t want it to be just us for Thanksgiving.  This is your tradition.”

He turned and leaned down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “It will be fine,” he repeated.

 

Still worried, Jodi protested, “But I wasn’t invited.”

 

“Jodi,” Jim stated firmly, “this is an open house. No one is invited.  You just show up.”  He placed his hands on her shoulders.  “I promise you, if I get the feeling that we aren’t wanted, we’ll leave, but these people are like my family, some of them are my family.  Let them surprise you.” Please surprise me, he thought, especially Trixie.

 

“Okay,” Jodi sighed, “I just don’t want to cause trouble.”  She walked up the stairs and followed Jim to the door.  He rapped the old knocker, and waited.  Footsteps approached the door. 

 

Mrs. Belden swung open the door and gasped, “Jim!  What a pleasant surprise!  We weren’t expecting you, but it’s wonderful to see you.” Her eyes moved to Jodi. “And this beautiful young woman is?”

 

Jodi held out her slim hand, “Hello, Mrs. Belden.  I’m Jodi MacAllister.”

 

Mrs. Belden shook the offered hand . “Welcome to Crabapple Farm, Jodi.  It’s so nice to meet you,” she said sincerely.  “Please come in. Wipe your feet,” she warned.  “Jim, your parents are in the living room.”  She took their coats, hung them on the coat tree in the hallway and led the way.

 

Jim and Jodi entered the crowded room behind Mrs. Belden.  “Guess who’s here?”

Matthew and Maddie Wheeler stood and quickly crossed the room to greet their son and his girlfriend.  “Jim, you didn’t tell us you were coming!” Mrs. Wheeler exclaimed. “Is everything all right?”

 

Jim gently hugged his mother, “Yes, Mother, everything is fine.  Jodi convinced me that being here with you was more important than studying.”

 

“Hello, dear,” murmured Mrs. Wheeler.  She kissed Jodi gently, but warmly, on the cheek.

 

Mr. Wheeler was less reserved with his greeting. “Of course it’s more important to be here!” He winked at Jodi and enveloped Jim in a bear hug and made sure that Jodi was hugged as thoroughly, if more a bit more tenderly.

 

“Where are the kids?” Jim asked.

 

“They’re all in the den,” Mr. Belden said.

 

“Well, I think we’ll go join them,” Jim replied. 

 

He led Jodi through the kitchen to the den.  The couple paused at the doorway and took in the view of the cozy room.  Honey, Brian, Dan and Trixie were playing a cutthroat game of pinocle, while Mart and Diana sat cuddling on the loveseat.  It was Honey who noticed the new arrivals.

 

“Jim!” she gasped.  There was brief shocked pause before Honey bounded up and ran into her brother’s waiting arms.  “I didn’t think you were coming.  I haven’t seen you since Labor Day! Why didn’t you email me?” she asked with a hurt expression on her pretty face.

 

“I didn’t know I was coming, Hon,” he replied.  “It was Jodi who convinced me that I needed to stop working and come home to see everyone.”

 

When Jim mentioned Jodi, everyone held their breath, wondering how Trixie would handle it.  Trixie steeled herself.  “We know that Jim is often so focused on work that he doesn’t remember that it just isn’t a party without him.  You must be a miracle worker, Jodi,” she said truthfully.  There was an almost audible sigh of relief from everyone in the room.

 

Taking her cue from Trixie, Honey disengaged herself from Jim and turned to Jodi.  “Thank you so much for convincing him.  My big brother doesn’t realize how much I miss him.”

 

Jodi laughed softly, “He wouldn’t stop talking about the food and his family and the food and seeing old friends and the food and skating before sunrise on Friday and the food and the annual pinocle tournament, and oh, did I mention the food?”

 

The group laughed and the last remains of any uncomfortableness evaporated.  Jodi noticed how everyone followed Trixie’s lead, and once she opened up to Jodi, the rest of the group followed.  Before she knew it, Jodi was pulled away from Jim by Mart and Diana, hustled into the kitchen, had a plate piled high with food, and was seated securely between the couple on the couch.

 

They started asking her about her major (education), favorite food (pizza), whether she liked horseback riding (yes), ice skating (yes, again), and dozens of other questions.  Jodi was used to small talk.  As a dean’s list and scholarship student, she endured hours of chit chat at banquets and awards ceremonies; she hated it.  Only with these people, the talk didn’t feel small.  It felt like they really cared about her responses.

 

Her eyes found Jim standing near the fireplace with Honey and Brian.  He looked over at her and raised his eyebrows.  “See?” His face said. “I told you they’d like you.”

 

Jodi smiled and allowed her mind to wander as Mart and Di continued to reminisce about skating at the Wheeler’s lake.  She now understood now why Jim felt the way he did about his home.

 

“Sleepyside is the nicest place in the world,” he’d told her during the drive.  “It has the same trees and roads as everywhere else, but there’s something about it.  You’ll see.  There’s almost, I don’t know, a magic.” Jim’s eyes sparkled like emeralds as he spoke about the town.

 

She  almost lost patience with his continual praises of the little village, especially once they passed through and she saw the same type of New York towns she grew up in, and that was  a lot.  There was nothing special at all.  Here in this room, however, among the Bob-Whites, she felt it.  There was something special.

 

Her eyes fell on Trixie, who had started a game of dominoes with Dan.  Though one of the youngest in the room, the girl was clearly the leader.  The air around her fairly (here I’m having a word choice issue: I like the following: snapped, shone, vibrated, glowed).  Her blue eyes missed nothing, and Jodi knew that Trixie had taken her measure the moment she walked into the den.  For some reason, Trixie, no matter what she truly felt about Jodi, decided that Jodi was acceptable.  She was relieved.

 

“Please, Jodi,” Di pleaded, “say you will.”

 

Her mind snapped back into focus.  What was Di saying?

 

“Yeah, Jodi,” Mart agreed, “make Jim stay the night so that you can go skating with us tomorrow.  The lake’s still frozen solid, even though we had the warm spell last week.”

 

All other ears in the room perked up.  “Jim?” Honey squealed. “I didn’t know you were spending the night!  That’s perfectly perfect. We haven’t spent time as a group in ages.”

 

Trixie listened intently as Jim replied, “Well, we didn’t plan to spend the night.  We’re not packed.”

 

Brian threw his two cents in, “You’ve got plenty of stuff at the Manor House.  Don’t use that as an excuse, my friend.”

 

Jim rolled his eyes at Brian.  “Yes, Brian, I have ‘plenty of stuff,’ as you so eloquently put it, but you’re forgetting one small thing, Jodi doesn’t have the bedroom where she grew up less than a mile away.”

 

“I have tons of clothes that would fit Jodi.  She’s just about as tall as me,” Honey offered.

 

Jodi noticed Trixie’s interest in the conversation, and truth be told, she didn’t blame her.  She knew Jim and Trixie dated.  This situation must be really hard for her. 

 

“Honey,” Jodi said, “I appreciate your offer, but”

 

“It won’t be any fun tomorrow if you aren’t here,” Trixie interrupted.  “Please say you’ll stay, Jodi, Jim.”

 

Jodi met Trixie’s eyes.  They were sincere.  “Okay,” she said. “Skating sounds like fun.”     

 

 

        

Part VI

 

The Bob-Whites decided they would postpone the traditional pre-dawn ice skating to “whenever they woke up skating” followed by a brunch at Manor House. The adults left or went to bed at least an hour earlier, and the BWGs insisted on cleaning up.  Work had never been so fun!  The group cleaned together like clockwork, and Jodi found herself an important cog.  She knew she was under constant scrutiny as she worked beside Jim, but found she enjoyed the clean-up process anyway. 

 

When it was finally time to leave, the young people shared good-bye hugs.

 

To Jodi’s surprise, because she watched them ignore each other all night after Trixie’s request that they stay to skate, Jim asked Trixie’s permission to leave his truck at the farm.  Again Jodi wondered just how serious the two of them had been.  Trixie slowly nodded assent to Jim’s request and moved quickly out of the kitchen.

 

After bundling up and finishing saying good-bye, Jim stood with Jodi on the porch as the cars pulled toward the lane and the night grew quiet.  Jim took Jodi’s gloved hand in his and led her down the steps into the side yard.  The branches of the bare trees clicked together in the breeze and the shadows they cast twitched on the ground.

 

A few steps from the woods, Jodi hesitated and shivered.

 

“Are you cold?” Jim asked.

 

“Not exactly,” Jodi replied.  “Where are we going?”

 

“We’re going to walk up to Manor House.”

 

Jodi stared at Jim. “Walk?  Through the woods?  Up the hill?  In the dark?”

 

Jim looked surprised.  “Sure.  Why not?  I’ve walked home from Crabapple Farm in the dark hundreds of times.”

 

“But,” she protested, “There could be...” she scrambled for something to say.  “There could be wildcats or tramps or poachers.”

 

“Jodi,” Jim laughed, “There are no wild cats in this area anymore, the only tramps in this area carry Bibles and cups,  and I’d like to see poacher who could get past Mr. Maypenny, Regan, Mr. Belden and Tri–” He stopped himself.

 

“It’s awfully cold, Jim.”

 

“Walking will warm you up.”

 

“You really shouldn’t leave your truck here.  It isn’t safe.”

 

Jim laughed again.  “Not safe?  You’re kidding, right?”

 

He examined her face for a long moment, waiting for her to join his laughter.  When she didn’t, he realized that she was scared: scared of the dark, scared of the woods, scared of who knew what else. He sighed softly.

 

Jodi heard the sigh and frowned.  Oh great, she thought. Now he’s disappointed in me.  Quickly she said aloud, “Jim, if you want to walk, we’ll walk.” To her credit, she tried a small smile.

 

Jim returned the smile and said, “No, you’re right.  It is really cold.  I’d forgotten that you aren’t a native New Yorker.  Let’s drive.” Jim turned from her toward where he was parked and raised his eyes skyward.  He loved the path between Crabapple Farm and Manor House.  It was peaceful and comforting.  He wanted Jodi to feel that peace.  They both started to walk to the truck.       

 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

They said nothing else except for a whispered goodnight after a quick kiss in front of the guest suite door.

 

 

For a moment after opening her eyes, Jodi was unsure of her location.  She rarely slept anywhere but her apartment.  Then she remembered; she was in the Manor House guest room.  Not a room, she chided herself, a suite...a guest suite: a private bath, small sitting area with nice entertainment center and a large, lavishly decorated bedroom.  All the wealth that the Wheelers had didn’t make them pretentious or standoffish, though.  Everyone was so incredibly nice here.

 

She rolled up on her elbow and squinted to see the old-fashioned alarm clock on the night table next to the bed: six o’clock.  It was often the case with her that she would go out, stay up late, but then be awake at the crack of dawn the next morning.  She rolled over, trying to get comfortable enough to get back to sleep, though she knew it was hopeless.

 

She was restless and needed to walk.  She threw back the blankets, arose from the bed and dressed quickly in the clothes loaned by Honey and left in the room by the maid.  She tiptoed out the door and looked down the hallway.  She was pretty sure she knew the way to the kitchen.  She turned right, followed the corridor down a narrow flight of stairs and stepped into the spacious, spotless kitchen.

 

Cautiously, Jodi approached the back entrance of Manor House.  She stopped, staring at the control panel of the security system.  Will I be able to leave without setting off the alarm?  Then she noticed that the system was already switched off.  Someone else was an early riser.

 

The sun barely peeked over the horizon, giving Jodi just enough light to navigate the snow-covered path away from the house.  Crunching along the trail as it wound downhill, hopefully to the lake, Jodi could hear cardinals twittering in the trees and started as a cottontail darted in front of her. 

 

She inhaled deeply and detected a faint odor of smoke in the air. Oh no!  Maybe the rabbit was running from a forest fire!  Should I run back to the Manor House and wake someone?  She took a few more hesitant steps forward and glimpsed the lake through the barren trees.  There was a figure on the lake gliding across the ice.  A campfire crackled playfully on the lakeshore.

 

Jodi stepped out of the trees and onto the sandy beach surrounding the frozen lake and watched in amazement as the lithe skater executed flawless double axles and sowkows.  The figure skimmed the surface so quickly, it was almost blurred.  Then it spun.  Without realizing it, Jodi held her breath as she focused on the skater whirling faster and faster.  Just as she feared the person would lose control, the spinning stopped abruptly and the person, struck a triumphant pose. Jodi burst into applause, and the girl on the ice faltered for just a moment, peering into the dawn, then skated smoothly to the edge of the lake.

 

Honey’s face creased with a sheepish smile.  “Good morning, Jodi. I was just making sure I could still stand on these things before this morning’s event.”  Honey paused. “It’s still kind of early isn’t it?  What are you doing awake?”  Honey paused again.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so snippy.”  She smiled a real smile.  “I’m just surprised you’re awake after how late we were out last night.”

 

“You are amazing!  You could skate professionally.”

 

Honey shrugged.  “Maybe, but probably not,” she laughed, puffs of frozen breath coming out of her mouth.  “Thank you for the wonderful compliment, Jodi, but I started skating too late in life.  Anyway, I like my work to be work and my fun to be fun.  I wouldn’t want fun to become work, if you know what I mean.”

 

“I do,” Jodi replied.  She looked at Jim’s adopted sister, thinking about how similar they were in attitude, even though they shared no DNA.  She thought it supported the “nurture over nature” argument in child rearing. Jim often said “Work should be fun, but fun shouldn’t be work.”  Jodi thought about her life when he said that.  Work was always work and having fun was usually work, too. 

 

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because Honey asked, “Are you okay?” She reached her arm out toward the girl.        

 

Jodi shook herself slightly and smiled tentatively.  “Yes, thanks.  I was just thinking about what a good philosophy that is, but how hard it is to live it.”

 

Honey stepped carefully off the ice and sank down onto one of the logs placed around the fire circle and began unlacing her skates.  “I know.  Everything used to be work for me until I–”

 

“Moved to Sleepyside,” Jodi finished sharply for her.

 

Honey froze, and a Trixie-worthy retort flew to her lips.   Jodi is a guest, a little voice in her head warned, be polite.  “Yes,” she said flatly, “until I moved to Sleepyside.”

 

There was a long silence.  Jodi stood simply staring across the lake’s surface, shining in the rising sun.  She liked Honey; she liked Jim; she adored Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler.  She wanted, no, needed them to like her. 

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “It’s just that I’m still getting used to the fact that a place can be magic.  It gets a little annoying, you know?  Jim’s always talking about Sleepyside and how it changed his life.  How even though bad things might happen, you feel like you’ll come out all right.”  She paused, then spoke again, her voice even softer than a whisper.  “I kind of felt it last night.”

 

Honey’s expression softened.  “It does require a little getting used to.  When I moved here, I was a scared little girl who knew nothing.  Living here changed me, definitely for the better.  At the risk of sounding kind of weird, I truly believe that Sleepyside heals people.”  Honey giggled a bit, trying to break the tension.  “Maybe we should call the Pope.”

 

Jodi glanced down at Honey, grateful for the change of subject, and laughed, too.  “People will be coming from miles around to take water from the Hudson!”

“Yummy yum!” Honey replied dissolving into giggles.

 

Jodi laughed harder and had to sink down onto the log with Honey.  Both girls were gasping for breath and holding their sides.  I haven’t laughed like this in a long time, Jodi reflected.

 

Honey calmed first and decided just to get it over with.  “So,” she began, “I suppose I should ask you what your intentions are toward my brother.”  She threw a sidelong glance at Jodi.  “Not in too much detail please, but you have been seeing him for a while now, and he’s brought you home.”

 

Jodi sighed.  “Truthfully, I don’t think he wanted to bring me here.  His original plan was to get Chinese yesterday and spend the weekend studying.”

 

“That sounds like Jim.”

 

“Doesn’t it?  But he kept mentioning little things like pinochle and Mrs. Belden’s stuffing, and it was driving me crazy. I told him in no uncertain terms that I would not listen to his whining any more.  I told him to get in the car and come here, that I would be fine.  He could be in Sleepyside in a few hours and enjoy Thanksgiving with his family.”

 

Honey’s eyes widened, and her heart softened toward the other girl.  She suddenly realized that Jodi had been going to stay at school alone.  “Didn’t you have someplace to go?”

 

Jodi ignored her question. “Now I see why he kept talking about the Open House.  Last night was really fun, especially when we were all cleaning up.  That was just about the first time in my life when work was fun instead of the other way around.”

 

Honey shifted her skates to the other side of the log and turned to look directly at Jodi.  “Can I be honest with you?”

 

Jodi returned her look.  “I wish you would be.”

 

“I was expecting not to like you.”

 

“I was prepared for that.” She remembered hearing Trixie confront Jim and seeing the glare in Jim’s eyes when Trixie came up the sidewalk with Dan. Jodi smiled ruefully.  “My visit to your place on Labor Day wasn’t the most positive of experiences, and you’re Trixie’s best friend.  I know they dated.”     

 

“They did. Growing up, I was sure that Trixie would marry Jim, I would marry Brian and we would be sisters.”

 

“It would be neat to be sisters with your best friend.”

 

“Yes, it would have been, but things don’t happen like you want them to.”

 

“Even in Sleepyside?”

 

“But things always come out all right.”

 

Jodi hesitated.  “Can I be honest with you?”

 

“I wish you would be.”

 

“I don’t know how serious Jim and Trixie were about each other, and I don’t want to cause more problems between them.”  She stopped and took a deep breath, trying to think of the right words.  “I really like Jim, and now that I’ve gotten a chance to meet you all again, I really like his friends, and his family.  My intentions are to date Jim for as long as I can, and I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you that I’d like to become a part of this family.  Eventually.”

 

Honey admired Jodi’s candor about her relationship with Jim and decided she might grow to really like her.  However, Honey felt that Jodi possessed a few secrets: secrets that might end up hurting her brother. Also, she was Trixie’s best friend, and for all intents and purposes, Jodi was the “other woman.” They were being truthful.  “Jodi, I love my brother, and I want what’s best for him.  If you make him happy, that’s what matters.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

The girls were silent for a long moment as they watched the sun rise completely over the lake.

 

“There’s an extra pair of skates in the boathouse.  Would you like to borrow them?” Honey asked.

 

“Yes, thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

 

Part VII

 

Dan paused at the edge of the lake, the sun warming his back.  He watched, spellbound, as Honey flew over the ice.  Ducking behind an old sycamore, his eyes followed her closely.  He didn’t want her to see him and stop skating.  Her energy was intense.  As she finished her routine and posed, breathing hard, he heard clapping from the opposite shore. 

 

Who else is up this early? he wondered.  Searching the shore, he saw Jodi approaching Honey.  He wasn’t sure exactly what Honey thought of the girl, and wasn’t sure of his own opinion either. He knew, though, that Honey would be gracious because Jodi was a guest, and whether or not she agreed with it, Jim’s girlfriend.

 

The two girls conversed, unaware of Dan’s scrutiny, and he noticed another person standing just behind the tree line–Trixie.  “This could be interesting,” Dan thought. It appeared to Dan that there were pauses as they spoke; the subject matter would have to be serious to cause Honey to stop to think about tactful remarks, or they had nothing in common and were struggling to simply make small talk.  Then the giggling began. 

 

Unconsciously, Dan found himself smiling, the laughter was so infectious.  Now he was really curious.  What in the world are they talking about? He remembered how Honey laughed with him in the car on the way home on Wednesday and felt a flash of jealousy toward Jodi.  Dan’s eyes wandered away from the laughing pair and fell again on Trixie. If I’m feeling a little jealous, how is she feeling?  Dan watched as Trixie strode back into the woods.  Well, he thought, I guess I should go talk with her.  Off I go: Damage Control Dan.  His gaze lingered on the beautiful honey-haired girl across the lake.  As she disappeared through the door of the boathouse, Dan sighed and set off around the lake to intercept Trixie.

 

When Dan caught up with her, she was standing in a clearing near a feeding station hurling snowballs at trees.  Each throw smashed the balls into trunks and chunks of snow fireworked into the air.  Trixie whirled as Dan entered the clearing, her arm cocked to slam the new arrival with snow.

 

Dan held up his hands, palms toward her, and his fingers splayed wide.  “I’m unarmed,” he called.  “And I remind you of the Snowball Treaty of ‘03.  The treaty clearly states that...”

 

“Only Mart may be pelted when unarmed,” Trixie finished with him.  The corners of her lips turned up in a small smile, and she tossed the snowball carelessly over her shoulder.  It burst messily as it contacted the trunk of a big maple.

 

Dan scanned her face.  Her cheeks were red and her eyes were bright, but there were no signs of actual tears.  Perhaps there wouldn’t be as much damage control necessary as he thought.

 

“So I walked to the lake this morning.”  He bent down and brushed snow off the stump of an ancient oak he remembered cutting down just last spring.  An ice storm had damaged it, and the wood of the tree was now heating Mr. Maypenny’s cottage. 

 

“Yeah?” Trixie asked.

 

“Yeah,” he replied, sitting down on the stump and gesturing for her to join him.

 

“Me too,” she said as she sat.

 

“I know.  I saw you.” He paused, thinking of how to start her talking.  Maybe the direct approach would be best. “Are you mad?” he asked.

 

Trixie idly scooped up snow, packed it and let it drop back to the ground. 

 

“Hm.”

 

Dan waited. So much for the direct approach.

 

“Kinda,” she said slowly.

 

“Hm,” he responded in surprise.  That wasn’t the answer he expected.  He expected a burst of temper, a usual Trixie tirade.  He rethought his game plan.  Perhaps he didn’t need to calm her down, but just let her talk out whatever was bothering her.  That might be tough. After years of soothing angry kids at camp, he could calm people with the best of them.  When he just had to listen, it became more of a challenge.

 

“So,” he began, “Jodi’s relationship with Jim is still bugging you, and you don’t like her schmoozing with Honey.”

 

“Kinda,” she said again. She stopped packing snow a picked up a partially buried twig and sketched an abstract design in the snow.

 

“Right, you’re not mad at Jim’s new girlfriend,” he snorted, and nudged her with his shoulder.

 

“Oh, I didn’t say I wasn’t mad.” She poked the toe of his boot with her stick.  “But I’m not really mad at her because she’s Jim’s girlfriend.  I mean it wasn’t like the break up was her fault.”

 

“So, you’re mad at Jim again.”

 

“No more than I was or have been. I mean, you remember the day I,” Trixie paused and sighed dramatically, “put Jim behind me.”

 

“Yes, and then later that night he came to visit and,” Dan also paused and sighed more dramatically, “bared his soul to you.”

 

Trixie giggled.  “Goofball.” She started burying his left boot in the snow.  She blew on her hands and shoved them into her pockets.  “Well, anyway.  I’m still mad, but not the same kind of mad I was before.  I mean, I know I’ll always love him, but I can love him without crying about it every day or dreaming that we’ll get back together.  I’m also not worrying anymore about trying to force myself to forget him.  I can look at new guys, or not.  One thing I’ve discovered, though, all the nice guys actually must live here in Sleepyside!”

 

“Of course,” Dan chuckled, popping his boot out from a pile of snow. 

 

 Trixie pushed it back over with her foot. 

 

“You know,” he shook his foot, and the snow fell off again.  “I have no idea what Jim said to you, and I have to confess I’m really curious.”

 

“It’s his story to tell, Liam,” she said briefly, “not mine.”

 

“I know,” he replied.  He noticed that his foot was covered with snow again.  “You can stop now,” he grumbled, kicking the snow at her.

 

She stuck out her tongue at him, her eyes bright with laughter. “Oh, is it bothering you?”

 

“Yes, it is.” He nudged her again.        

 

“Ok, I’ll stop.”

 

“Thanks. Now, I was saying before I got cold feet...”

 

“Actually, it was cold foot, but I can fix that.”

 

“Stop,” he warned.  “I’m about to compliment you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For being the most mature person I’ve met in a while.”

 

Trixie raised her eyebrows.  “I’m mature when it comes to Jim? Must I remind you that I punched him?”

 

Dan stopped her with another nudge before she could say any more.  “That was ages ago.  You were really hurting, and yes, you did some stupid stuff, Neptune, but what you just said made good sense. I’m proud of you.”

 

Sighing, she said, “Yeah, I’m so mature, but I’m not mature at all.”

 

He waited for her to continue.

 

When she did speak again, the words seemed to spill out. “Remember back when Diana joined the BWGs?  Well, actually, you wouldn’t remember because you weren’t here yet, but when she did, it was hard for a while.  Di and Honey hung out a lot.  You know, they slept over each other’s houses without me.  Sometimes they went shopping together, and did a bunch of stuff without me. It felt like they had secrets and inside jokes even though they really didn’t.  I knew that it didn’t make Honey any less my friend because she spent time with Di, and I wanted to be friends with Di and have her be part of the group, but I still wanted Honey all to myself.  See?”

 

Oh boy, do I see. He continued aloud, “I think I do see. When you saw Honey talking with Jodi, you felt thirteen again.”

 

“Exactly!  I don’t want them to have secrets or inside jokes.” She rolled her eyes. “How stupid is it that I’m jealous of my ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend’s relationship with my best friend? Sheesh! If I’m going to be jealous, should it because she’s kissing my boyfriend? Ex-boyfriend.”

 

“Nah.  You know what, Neptune?”

 

“What?”

 

“During your story, you talked about wanting to be friends with Honey and Di.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“I’m guessing that means you want to be friends with Jodi.”

 

“Stinks doesn’t it?  I should totally hate her. I should want to kick her in the teeth, but there’s something likeable about her.  She’s done a lot for Jim.” Trixie stuck out her tongue.  “Blech, I didn’t want to say that, but it’s true.”

 

“You could hate her.”

 

“I could, but what good would it do?”

 

“See, mature!”

 

“SO mature!”     

 

“But you know what?”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not!” Dan scooped up a handful of snow and dumped it over her head.

 

“Treaty-breaker!” she shrieked. Trixie scraped snow from the ground and threw it at him in retaliation.

 

Snow flew through the clearing for a few minutes until both combatants were gasping for breath.  One of Trixie’s missiles hit Dan square on the jaw.

 

“Truce,” he gasped through a snow moustache.

 

“Truce,” she panted.

 

Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham! Wham!

 

Snowballs barraged Dan and Trixie from all directions.

 

Dan sputtered, “What the heck?”

 

“Traitors!” Trixie laughed. “All of you!”

 

She began a rapid-fire hurling of snowballs, aiming and releasing over and over.  Fwhap! Mart grabbed his thigh.  Pfffft. Brian suffered a strike in the shoulder.  Thwack! Booosh! Dan’s face was covered again. Honey’s rear sported a badge of snow.  Still not the all-important hit she was looking for.  Whabam! A shot ricocheted off of Di’s hand, causing her to drop her ammunition. There it was! The opening she was waiting for.  Fwhump! She got Jim right in the chest. Arms froze mid-throw.

 

Jim fell to his knees and moaned, “She got me! She got me! Today is a good day to die!”

 

No one moved.  The preserve was silent for a moment, and time stopped.  A deluge of snowballs bombarded the red-head, and he fell spread-eagled onto the snow.     

 

“It is finished,” Brian intoned.

 

The BWGs began whooping and dancing around the clearing.  Jim was laughing so hard he kept slipping as he tried to get up.

 

Brian and Dan were helping Jim stand and shaking his hand on a death well done.  Jodi was standing behind the tree line with a pair of Honey’s old skates slung over her shoulder. Trixie absentmindedly brushed snow from her hair and studied Jodi from under her bangs.  The girl looked uncomfortable and a little afraid of the display in front of her.

 

“Nice shot, Trix!” Honey gave her a huge hug. 

 

Trixie leaned over and whispered, “Is Jodi OK?”

 

Honey whispered back, “I think so.  I guess.  I’ll talk to you about it later.”

“How mysterious,” Trixie thought.

 

“Oh no,” Mart groaned.  “It looks like there’s a Trixie/Honey pow wow going on over there. Come on, squaws, let’s us return through the arboreal passage unto the lake to partake in a sumptuous feast!”  He blew on his fingers and shook them. “Provided my fingers don’t fall off.”

 

“They won’t, silly,” Diana chided. “Tom and Regan are watching the fire so that you can warm your poor, little fingers.”

 

“And,” Brian added, “when your poor, little fingers are thawed, you can cook the breakfast sausage.”

 

“As long as I eat, I’ll cook all morning!”

 

“After you, Iron Chef Mart!”

 

They tramped off singing “Over the river and through the woods, to the Wheeler’s lake we go!”

 

Jodi watched as they filed by her.  Jim slowly approached her and smiled.  She returned his smile tentatively and took his offered hand.  As they walked, she unclenched her other hand and a compact mass of snow, imprinted by her palm, dropped to the ground.

 

 

 

Part VIII

 

Trixie slipped away from the party.  She had to hide her gift before midnight, as per Bob-White tradition.  Then, after the clock struck twelve, they would exchange clues and scatter around Manor House, searching for their presents.  This year, the seven BWGs added Hallie and Jodi to the mix, and Trixie was extremely relieved she pulled Dan’s name out of the hat.

 

She glanced around, checking for others sneaking away to hide their packages.  Seeing no one, she ducked into the conservatory.  It was lit only by a small Christmas tree in the far corner and fireplace along the side wall. 

 

Which couch to choose? Trixie crossed the room to one of the leather couches perpendicular to the fireplace and crawled behind it.  Using a piece of string, she tied the package with the new Leatherman to one of the back legs and grinned as she thought about her clue: “Couch me a while and mark.”  Dan would appreciate the Shakespeare reference, and she would appreciate him darting to each of the dozen or so couches in Manor House.

 

She stood up to leave and saw a shadow approaching in the hallway.  “Oh, woe,” she mumbled and ducked back behind the sofa.  Dan furtively entered the room and strode to the long window just a few feet to the side of her.  He gently pulled back the sheer drapery and carefully secured an envelope to the glass with a piece of the blue sticky tack.  He chuckled aloud and said, “Mart, my man, you are such a pane!”

 

As Dan crossed back through the room and strode over the threshold, he collided head-on with another Bob-White--Honey.  Trixie watched with interest as they teetered.  Their hands reached in and their arms involuntarily went around each other as they tried to keep balance.  Trixie’s eyes widened as she observed a flush on Dan’s neck, visible even in the dim light.  That’s interesting, she thought.  Perhaps he’s got a little crush on her.  Wouldn’t that be funny?

 

They stood, holding on, for a long moment, when suddenly Dan sprang back.  “Whoa! Sorry, Honey.  I was just thinking about Mart and...”

 

Honey smiled warmly and raised her eyebrows slightly.  “You were thinking about Mart?”

 

“Yes.  No.  I mean,” Dan stammered. “He’s my Pollyanna.  Well, I’ll let you do what you need to do.”

 

“Thanks, Dan. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

 

Trixie giggled quietly as she watched Dan stumble out of the room.  I can’t wait to tease him about this!  A crush on Honey! Oh, this is too funny!

 

Trixie started to move from behind the couch when she heard Honey say, “Get a hold of yourself, Wheeler.  It’s Dan.  Just Dan.  He’s like your brother.” She shook herself, smoothed her hair and looked skyward.  “He is so not my brother.”

 

Stunned, Trixie resumed her place on the floor.  She recalled Honey’s blush when Bobby wondered about Dan bring Honey home at Thanksgiving. How could I have missed it? She wondered.  Honey and Dan?  Does Brian know?  Hey! Why didn’t she tell me?

 

Trixie observed her friend closely as she removed a beautifully wrapped gift from her pocket and placed it among all the other wrapped gifts under the tree.  What an awesome hiding place!  She’s getting really good at hiding things.  I HAVE to talk to her about Dan.

 

Honey straightened her skirt and walked quickly from the room.  Trixie pushed herself up from the floor.  Now I can go, she thought.  She stepped out from behind the sofa and saw a shadow approaching . . . again.  She ducked down for the third time. “Come on!” she mumbled.

 

Jodi entered the room and placed a rectangular gift on one of the bookshelves.  Very original.  You can go now, Trixie thought.  Jodi obviously didn’t have ESP because instead of leaving as Trixie wanted, she moved to the window where Mart’s gift was and stared out at the snow.  Jodi stood for a long time, until Trixie’s feet began to fall asleep.  Just as Trixie decided that she would try to sneak out while Jodi remained motionless, the girl turned and Trixie saw the tears flowing down her cheeks.

 

The tears reminded Trixie of the whispered conversation she shared with Honey the day after Thanksgiving.  “I’m worried about her,” Honey murmured. “And because I’m worried about her, I’m worried about Jim.  It’s nothing I can put my finger on, but I don’t want any of her past secrets or whatever to hurt my brother.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Honey,” Trixie soothed.  “He’ll be fine.”  Though a little bit of bad karma . . . she stopped the thought before it went any further.

 

Seeing Jodi wipe away tears made Trixie a little uncomfortable.  Did Jodi have secrets that could hurt Jim?

 

Jodi walked over to the piano and caressed the top and keys.  She pulled out the stool, sat and placed her foot over the soft pedal.  She played a trial scale, marveling at the perfect tune.  She remembered Jim mentioning that his mother played on occasion. 

 

Jodi’s fingers moved effortlessly just playing scales and little snatches of tunes, some which sounded familiar to Trixie, some did not.  Then the notes resolved themselves into a familiar carol: “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.”

 

Trixie watched intently as Jodi played.  The other girl’s eyes never glanced at the keys.  Trixie knew she never heard the song played so well before or with such emotion.  In fact, she felt like an intruder on a very private moment.

 

Outside the door of the library Jim paused.  Who was playing the piano?  His mother was with the guests. 

 

He peeked through the crack at the door’s hinges.  It was Jodi.  He gazed at her. Shadows cast from the fire and small tree danced over her face, and she looked very mysterious.   He was never sure what she was thinking, or what her next action would be.  Yes, he found it fascinating, but truth be told, it sometimes frustrated him.  With Trixie, everything she felt was always clearly revealed by a glance at her eyes.  She could hide nothing from him. 

 

Stop thinking about Trixie.  You are no good for her.  Oh Trixie, he thought, I’m so, so sorry for the way I treated you.  He had apologized, but he knew that he didn’t deserve even her friendship.  He marveled that she was able to care enough about him to still be willing to be his friend.  Stop thinking about Trixie, he reprimanded himself.  You have to let her be free and there’s only one way for that to happen. 

 

He pulled out the box with Jodi’s name on in and touched the envelope in his pocket.  The words on the sheet were painstakingly written.  It took hours to get the words right.  Jodi would open the envelope, read the lines, open the box and he could get on with his life. Everything would fall into place with one simple word from her.  He would just wait until she left and then sneak in and place the box. 

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he jumped.  It was Brian.

 

“Is that Jodi?” he asked.  “She’s good!”

 

“Yes,” Jim replied.  “I didn’t know she could play.”

 

Brian peered through the crack in the door and watched the pianist silently for a long moment.  Jim shifted weight from foot to foot.  Why was everyone hanging around this room tonight? 

 

Suddenly, Brian visibly shook himself and said, “Well, I was going to hide my gift in here, but I think now I won’t.  Three’s a crowd, right?”

 

“Huh?” asked Jim.

 

“Well, you’re obviously going to give Jodi that gift, and if it’s what I think it is, I don’t want to be here for it.”

 

“What?” Jim shoved the box into his pocket.

 

Brian looked straight into Jim’s eyes.  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Jim.”

 

Was that a challenge? Is Brian questioning my judgement?  What does he know about anything? Jim thought furiously.

 

“I’m fine, Bri,” Jim stated. “But thanks for checking on me.”

 

Brian held Jim’s gaze for another second and gave a slight sigh.  “You’re welcome.” He turned and walked back to the party.

 

The carol drew to a close, and Jodi almost reverently lifted her fingers.  A soft, husky voice drifted from the doorway.  “Perfect.  Absolutely perfect.”

 

Jodi jumped.  “Jim!” She gasped.  “You startled me!”

 

“Sorry,” he replied.  “I didn’t mean to.” He gently pushed her over and sat next to her on the piano bench.  “I didn’t know you played the piano.”  He took one of her hands in his.

 

“It’s not something I usually do in public.”

 

“I like the fact that I’m still discovering things about you,” Jim said.

 

Oh, gleeps, thought Trixie.  It’s time to get out of here.  But how?  Making a decision, she started to crawl behind the sofa toward the door.  Maybe they’ll be so–blech–intent on each other that they won’t hear me leaving. 

 

Jim thought about the envelope in his pocket.  He knew the words by heart.  “It’s really meant a lot to me that you came out here and visited with my family over Thanksgiving, and again for Christmas.  I know my parents adore you,” he paused.  “I drew your name in the exchange.” Here Jim faltered.  He had to change what was written in the letter.  “I was going to hide your gift in here, but I’m guessing you hid something, too.”

 

“It must be a popular place,” Jodi said.

 

You have no idea, Trixie thought, rolling her eyes.

 

“Since you’re in here,” Jim hesitated, “I’ll, uh,  just give you your gift now.”  He slipped a small box with a silver ribbon around it out of his jacket pocket and handed it to her.

 

It is DEFINITELY time to get out of here! Trixie began crawling again and slammed her knee onto the hardwood floor.  She gasped.

 

Looking up from the box, Jodi said, “What was that?”

 

“Just the fire,” Jim said.  Get in control, Frayne. You’ve got to get back to the stuff in the note. This has to be perfect.  He pushed a loose tendril of her hair back into her braid.  “Open the box.”

 

Trixie’s heart was pounding.  She was almost at the space between the couch’s arm and the wall.  Don’t open the box, don’t open the box. Trixie heard paper ripping.  I’ve got to get out of here!  I don’t want to be here. She edged her way nearer the door.

 

“Jim?” Jodi questioned softly. “Is this...”  her voice trailed off.

 

Say it’s not.  Please say it’s not!

 

“It is,” Jim murmured.

 

“It’s so beautiful.”

 

“So are you.”

 

UGH! And you haven’t been together that long!

 

“Jim,” Jodi said. “We haven’t been together that long.  Are you sure about this?”

 

I can’t watch.  I can’t listen. However, her natural curiosity drove her to peek over the back of the couch.  It’s like a train wreck.  I can’t stop watching.

 

“Stop,” Jim commanded. “You are always thinking about others.  That’s one of the things that makes you so wonderful.  You care about what people are feeling.  You give of yourself so freely.”

 

What is this? Trixie thought.  It sounds so fake, like he’s reading a prepared speech.

 

Jodi began to speak, but he stopped her.  “Wait.  You helped me heal and move on with my life after Alyssa.” He paused and swallowed.  “I want to be able to help you like that someday.” His tone turned teasing. “But to do that I have to make sure that you’re still around.” He laughed nervously, glanced around the room, took a deep breath and finished seriously, “Jodi will you marry me?”

 

Jodi stared at him for a moment.  Trixie was sure that they would hear her heart pounding.  What’s she going to say? Trixie closed her eyes.  I don’t CARE what she says.  I don’t. I don’t.

 

“Jim . . . I . . . ” Jodi stammered.

 

Trixie gripped the top of the couch with both hands and squeezed her eyes more tightly closed.

 

“Yes.”

 

 

 

Madeleine Wheeler surveyed her friends and family.  Each year she took a few moments from her hostess duties to remove herself from the party and just watch.  This year she stood on the landing of the main staircase to watch.  The party feels different this year, she thought.  Oh, all the guests were smiling and gushing over their presents as well as congratulating the newly-engaged couple; everyone seemed happy.

 

“What a remarkable young woman she is,” Matt murmured in her ear.

 

Madeleine inclined her head slightly.  “Yes, I do like her.  Jodi seems like a wonderful person.”

 

“I meant Trixie.”

 

The Wheelers watched as Trixie embraced both Jim and Jodi, then walked over to where the rest of the Bob-Whites were standing.  Matt’s arms crept around Madeleine’s waist as they observed the young people closely.  

 

Is Matt seeing what I’m seeing?  She thought. There are unshed tears in Trixie’s eyes.  Dan and Honey are ignoring each other.  Jim’s smile seems strained, as does Jodi’s whole bearing.  The rest of the Bob-Whites just seem confused or concerned.       

 

Madeleine sighed. “Isn’t it sad?”

 

“Isn’t what sad, Maddie?”

 

“How they learn.”

 

“Learn?”

 

“Learn to pretend there’s more than love that matters.”   

          

To Be Continued

Author’s notes

Many thanks to my editors, especially Trish, on this one [PartVIII].  It just wasn’t right.  It took about six months to get it right.  Thanks to her suggestions, I was able to make this chapter mean what I wanted it to mean. 

New legislation has been passed to keep residents from working over 80 hours in one week (though in special circumstances they may work 100...as opposed to the 120 they used to regularly do.  Also, interesting side note, they can only work 24 consecutive hours (30 in special circumstances) as opposed to the 36 that used to be required.  I heard it on NPR. 

Cross pens are manufactured in Rhode Island.  I am making no money from their appearance in the Wheeler’s house.

Civics are a Honda vehicle.  Would Dan drive one?  I think so.  He’s saving his money for things other than fancy cars.

These characters belong to Random House, not to me.  I’m not making any money from their appearance here, nor do I want to.

Francis Flute is one of my favorite characters from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. He would give you two points in Scattergories, which is one of my favorite games.  I have used Francis and Scattergories in this story without permission. 

I hope you noticed the little homages to the original series, they are used without permission, but with much respect.

As stated at the beginning, this is the second major installment in my Rites of Passage Universe.  With Your Ghost is the first, with a quick flashback (titled Flashback and to the Left).  The whole universe is loosely based on the Indigo Girls album of the same name.  Thanks Zap for maintaining this site and the archives!  You’re the best.

Thanks to my wonderful editors: Amber, Patte, SusanB and Trish (PBahr). Thank you so much for finding my missing commas and crazy typos.  I really appreciate all you do!

TBH Main