Scene Ten: It Was The Day Before Christmas

You hear about Christmas all the time around that certain time of year when various television stations start airing specials on TV, like “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” or “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” or classics like “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, and Christmas carolers can be spotted all around town singing songs that everybody knows, which was exactly what Fiona, Cam’s sister, had dragged him into doing that cold, blustery day.

“Come, they told me, pa rum pum pum pum

A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum

Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum

To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum

Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum…” sang the carolers, of whom the most irritated was most obviously Cam, as he kept throwing dark glares at Fiona, who quite on the contrary, seemed quite happy and involved in the song the small group of people was singing on the busy sidewalk.

“…I hate you, Fiona, pa rum pum pum pum…” sang Cam quietly and to be honest, quite darkly, glaring at the back of his sister’s head as she sang contentedly with her friend Julienne, and believe me, if looks could kill….

“…When we come…”

Cam was bored out of his mind. He would kill to be back in his nice warm house, listening to Calvin and Cailyn argue over whether to build a castle or a tower with the Lego’s, or playing video games with Oliver and Forbes and Curtis, or even Keavy, awkward as it was to be around her, or just in his room, blasting the stereo until either his mom, Alvin, or Fiona yelled at him to turn it down, and if it was Fiona, “or I’ll give you what’s comin’ to you!”

And whatever would be blasting out of his stereo would definitely not be the Little Freakin’ Drummer Boy.

“…I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum

That’s fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum

Rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum…”

--

“Oh come on, now, Cam! It wasn’t that bad!” laughed Fiona as the sister and brother walked into a Blimpie’s to get some food. Fiona smiled thoughtfully. “I thought it was kinda fun.”

Cam rolled his eyes. “That’s because you’re a little goody two-shoes Mama’s girl.” He stuck his tongue out as they got into the back of the line.

Fiona looked highly offended. “I am not!” she protested.

Cam raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Oh yeah? When’s the last time you did anything even remotely bad, or that Mom would consider bad?”

Fiona frowned. “Just last week. Me, Julienne, and Darrin skipped our seventh hour and went out to the mall.” She smirked and Cam looked highly shocked for a moment, but then he smiled knowingly.

“You’re lying,” he laughed. “You’d never skip band.”

Fiona glared. “Oh wouldn’t I?” she snapped. She then put on the air of someone who had a bad cold and simpered in a very nasally voice, “M-Mr. Fitzgerald, I- I’m not feeling very good.” She sniffed loudly, covering her nose, and continued, “Could I go to the nurse’s office until school’s out?” Then she stopped her little act and smirked at Cam. “He so bought it.”

Cam smiled. “Impressive. How are you going to explain that to Mom when she finds out?”

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Yeah right! She’s so not gonna find out, especially if Mr. Fitzgerald never did.”

“Guess again, Fiona.”

Fiona closed her eyes, wincing as if someone had stabbed her with a white-hot blade in her stomach, and then she slowly turned around, smiling brightly. “Heeeey, Mom! Hi Alvin! How ya doin’!” She chuckled nervously, expecting the worst.

Cam sighed, not feeling entirely guilty. After all, he had put up with an entire morning of Christmas caroling.

--

She had gotten most of her features from her mother, but her eyes… her eyes were the same haunting black as her father’s. “When I get older… losin’ my hair…” sang Riley softly to herself as she looked through old pictures of her mother, Anne Symone, for whom she was named, and her father, George. There was one of her father and her mother going off to their senior prom- 1986. Her mother looked like she had been about ready to smack George for something he had said or done a moment before, but Riley’s father was grinning broadly at the camera with his arm hung loosely around Riley’s mom’s shoulder.

“Many years from now… will you still be sending me a Valentine…”

They looked so happy together. In the next picture, George must have been holding the camera in his hand to take a picture of both him and Anne because you could see his arm reaching out at the side of the picture, and Anne was laughing. The contrast between her black hair and his white blonde hair was vivid. Like night and day.

“Birthday greetings, bottle of wine…” Riley sniffed and turned the page to see a large picture that took up the whole next page and she smiled.

There were her mother and her father in the center of the large group of dressed-up people. Her mother was wearing a big, beautiful white dress and her father looked a bit like a butler, Riley thought. The other men, standing to the right, were dressed similarly to George, and the women to the left of the picture were all wearing dark red dresses.

It was a picture from George and Anne’s wedding.

“If I’d been out ‘till quarter to three… would you lock the door…”

There were more pictures of the wedding and the reception, and the years after, of course, but then…

“Would you still need me… would you still feed me… when I’m…” Riley suddenly stopped as she saw an odd looking picture of George and Anne in the hospital room, holding a small, sleeping, deeply frowning child with dark black hair- Riley.

“Riley Anne? What are you looking at over here?” asked Isabel, Riley’s grandmother, as she walked into the room and sat down by Riley. Riley had been living with her grandmother since her parents died in a car accident- and that’s called irony.

Riley smiled. “Just old pictures of Mom and Dad.”

Isabel smiled as she looked at the picture of George and Anne and Riley. “You were such a tiny little thing…” she reminisced, one of her favorite things to do. She chuckled lightly. “Your mother and father simply adored you.”

Riley smiled faintly. “I hope they did.” She sighed.

Isabel looked at Riley for a moment and then got up. “Wait right here,” she said, leaving a very puzzled and curious Riley behind. She returned a minute later, holding a videocassette, and she walked over to the television, turned it on, along with the VCR, and flipped through the channels until she came to a blue screen. She put in the video and sat down by Riley, who was even more puzzled and curious than before.

“Grandma, what…?” started Riley, who was shushed by Isabel.

“It’s not polite to talk during a movie, Riley Anne,” scolded Isabel. “I’m old and eccentric, and so that means I’m allowed to do whatever I wish.”

Riley half-smiled at her grandmother’s comment and turned her attention back to the picture on the television. Whoever was holding the camera was not a very good cameraperson- it kept moving and shaking, and you kept getting odd flashes of white and yellow and green and blue and black, until finally it stopped and you could see that the scene was in a hospital. A woman with long, curly black hair and dark brown eyes was lying in the bed, holding something small that was crying quite loudly in her arms. “Oh, come dear…” she said in a comforting tone, a concerned expression on her face. From behind the camera came a man with hair so blonde, it was white, and sparkling black eyes.

He sat down at the edge of the bed and said, “So, Anne, we still haven’t talked about the most important part.”

“Yeah I know, George…” sighed Anne. She looked back down at the crying baby, and commented, “Riley little one, aren’t you?” and then her whole face lit up. “That’s it!” She looked back down at the baby and asked with a smile on her face, “If you like the name Riley, you’ll stop crying for Mama!”

And as if it were some sort of sign, the baby gradually stopped crying, but still fidgeted some.

George smiled and said thoughtfully, “Riley Anne Kruse…”

Anne looked at George curiously. “Anne?” she repeated, a lopsided smile on her face.

George shrugged, moving closer towards Anne and their daughter. “Well, she has to have a middle name, doesn’t she?” he said.

Anne smiled and brushed a strand of Riley’s black hair from her face. “Hey, Riley Anne…” she said. She grinned.

There was the sound of a door opening, and George suddenly looked alarmed, and then there was the sound of someone saying, “Hey guys-” and then there were the flashes of the room, and then static.

Riley looked at Isabel curiously. “He put the camera by the door?” she laughed.

Isabel sighed. “Your father wasn’t exactly thinking about people coming into the room,” she explained as she shook her head.

Riley smiled and looked back to the TV, where the static was still going. “Is there any more?” she asked.

Isabel sighed again and shook her head. “The video camera that fell, your father’s, was the only one we had, and it couldn’t be fixed.” She sighed regretfully.

Riley frowned slightly in discontent. “This does not please me,” she commented to her grandmother, who chuckled.

“It does not please any of us!” she agreed. “But life goes on, doesn’t it? Now come dear, what about some Chinese for lunch?” Her emerald green eyes sparkled- she simply loved Chinese food.

Riley grinned in reply, which made old Isabel start to chant as she started to walk into the kitchen, “I think it’s mushu time…”

--

“He’s grounded…? Ahhh. Right. OK, bye Mr. Acciai!” said Forbes, talking on his cell phone as he drove over to Kitty’s house, not even noticing he barely cleared a red light. He hung up his phone and swerved to miss a speeding driver. He frowned. “Crazy drivers…” he muttered under his breath, slowing down for a yellow and four girls running across the intersection from the Wal-Mart, each of them with slushies in their hands, who curiously looked like Keavy, Riley, Maggie, and Lily…

Naaah. Couldn’t be them. Keavy didn’t have glasses, for one thing, Maggie didn’t wear such brightly colored hats, Riley wasn’t that tall, and Forbes had never seen any of them hang out with Lily and without Tina before.

As the girls reached the other side, being followed by a purple van, the light for Forbes turned green and he continued to drive on.

He flipped the radio on to the Christmas station (as the girls called it) and was instantly blasted with a cool sound of, “…rock

Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring

Snowin’ and blowin’ up bushels of fun

Now the jingle hop has begun

Forbes tapped his fingers on his steering wheel in time with the song, singing along with the catchy little melody. “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time

Dancin’ and prancin’ in jingle bell square

In the frosty air…” He slowed down at a stop sign, bobbing his head. He waited for a moment and made his turn.

“What a bright time, it’s the right time

To rock the night away

Jingle bell time is a swell time

To go riding in a one-horse sleigh…” Forbes made a beat boxing sound as he glided down the hill and up another, flipping up his wipers as the snow came down a bit harder.

“Giddy-up, jingle horse, pick up your feet

Jingle around the block

Mix and mingle in a jinglin’ beat

That’s the jingle bell rock…” As the song began to repeat itself, Forbes pulled into Kitty’s driveway, putting the car into park and switching it off, pulling the keys from the ignition. He opened his door and got out, walking up to the door, grabbing a small package that sat in the passenger seat, and walking up to the door of the olive-colored house, knocking on it coolly.

He waited for a little while.

No one was answering.

He looked through the window… it was all dark inside.

Well that was a bad sign.

He knocked again, a bit hesitantly, and only twice, not to mention a bit slowly. He waited for a brief moment and then sighed deeply.

No one was home.

“Well…” he said to himself, setting the package down on the step, “…I’ll just leave this here for her to find then.”

And so he left, feeling only a little defeated.

Only a little.

--

The MacKellen family was a very large family, and it was continually attempting to expand- at least that was the way it used to be. There was the oldest, Brian Teague MacKellen, who was four years older than Keavy, and happily married to Aria Lillian, and they had a one-year-old boy named Russell Scott. Then there was the youngest; Finn Patrick MacKellen, a sixth grader who took after his mother. Then there was Keavy Bree, the only girl, and therefore, her father’s favorite girl, besides Sandrine, of course. Sandrine Lucille MacKellen had a younger sister named Sapphire Nadine Ramaker, who was married to Henry Daniel Ramaker, and they had a daughter named…

“Emerald!”

“Keavy!”

“How have you been, my dear cousin? What sorts of trouble have those friends of yours been causing? And what of your boyfriend, ehhh?”

“Still kickin’, you’d never believe me if I told you, and he’s… well… he’s… he’s fine…” Keavy’s cousin Emerald shrugged and sighed as she came into the MacKellen household. Emerald was only about a month older than Keavy, and they were so much alike in both personality and appearance that it was more than a little scary. However, Emerald’s family lived in a completely different state than Keavy’s family, which helped lessen the chaos by a lot.

Keavy left the door open for her aunt Sapphire and her grandmother and she and Emerald left to go talk in the kitchen. “So what’s up?” asked Keavy, looking at her cousin carefully.

Emerald shook her head. “Nothing,” she insisted. “I heard you were in an accident, are you OK?”

Keavy nodded. “Yeah, just this stupid arm, that’s all,” she answered. “Oliver and Riley were fighting and it distracted Cam and he drove on the wrong side of the road and next thing you know… bam.” She rolled her eyes. “And now Maggie’s saying she saw angels there at the accident, and people think she’s crazy…” Keavy sighed.

Emerald smiled sympathetically. “If it makes you feel any better… it’s not much better back at my school…” she sighed, scratching the back of her head. She scowled. “Pyro keeps saying that he’s got some ‘surprise’ for me, or somethin’, and Radar and Hydro are mad at each other for some reason or another…” She groaned loudly, rubbing her forehead. “Stupid friends…” she muttered.

Keavy laughed. “Hey, at least they’re not betting on you yet,” she said.

Emerald raised an eyebrow curiously. “What is this bet and how can I get in on it?” she grinned.

“Hey! Keave! Emm! Girls!” The sound of the door opening and people coming in aroused the girls from their seats and made them go back into the living room to see who was coming in. There was Keavy’s aunt Sapphire and Uncle Henry, Keavy’s mom, Sandrine, and a tall man with graying brown hair that Keavy didn’t recognize immediately.

Sandrine smiled at everyone as she grabbed the hand of the tall man and said to everyone in the room, “Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Keavy scoffed at this comment.

Sandrine ignored her daughter and continued, “This is an associate from work… Casper.”

Finn didn’t seem to be able to resist the comment, “The Friendly Ghost?”

Sandrine cleared her throat strictly, but Casper chuckled and said, “No, Sandy, it’s OK.”

Finn continued, “I wouldn’t say so anyways… you seem to be a bit more than Friendly.”

There was a small pause. Keavy and Emerald’s eyes were as wide as saucers, shocked that Finn would start embarrassing Sandrine’s boyfriend so early in the game.

Sandrine turned to Casper and said quietly, “I’m sorry…” Then she turned back to Finn and also to Keavy and said just as quietly, “Could I see you two in the kitchen for a moment?”

The two siblings exchanged a quick look before following their mother into the next room.

Sandrine sighed deeply as she looked at Finn. “That was very, very rude, what you said in there,” she said. “And I want you to apologize.”

Finn didn’t look very happy about it, but he nodded anyways.

Sandrine then turned to Keavy. “And you… I want to know why you two always do this sort of thing! I know you miss your dad, and I do too, but don’t you think that it’s time to move on?” she said.

Keavy scowled. “He can’t be my dad,” she growled in deadly undertones. “He can never be my dad.”

“I’m not saying he can,” said Sandrine gently.

“Me and Finn don’t want another dad! We like the one we had!” yelled Keavy. She felt herself getting over-angry, but she didn’t care. “How can you even think of trying to find another husband!”

But before Sandrine could answer, Keavy stormed out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and into her room, slamming the door behind her.

--

It was ALASTAR’S kitchen- he would never let Keavy’s mother, Sandrine, cook- oh, sure, if she wanted to make some cookies, then he’d let her in, but otherwise, the kitchen was strictly his domain.

His and Keavy’s.

“Alright, Keavy Bree, what are we making tonight?” asked Alastar, Keavy’s dad, as he and Keavy walked into the kitchen to make dinner.

“Sweet corn!” said Keavy, a bright smile on her face. “And turkey! And pumpkin pie! And rolls, and…”

Alastar laughed and cut the overly excited six-year-old off. “Woah, Keaves. Your aunt Sapphire and grandma are making some of the food for tonight, too. But I’ll tell you what they put us in charge of.” He grabbed Keavy under her arms and lifted her up onto a tall stool next to the counter.

“What are we making?” asked Keavy.

Alastar smiled. “We’re in charge of the pie, the rolls, and the gravy.”

Keavy scowled- she did not like the gravy very much. “Yick,” she commented, still making a fowl face.

Alastar laughed and ruffled Keavy’s light brown hair. “You’ll help me make it anyways, right?” he asked.

Keavy smiled. “Right,” she answered straightaway.

Alastar nodded and opened the cupboard door to get out a bowl. “OK, Keave, you want to grab that recipe box over there by you and find the one for the pumpkin pie?”

Keavy nodded and reached over to grab the familiar old green and yellow box. She flipped open the lid and sifted through the many recipes her dad had stored in it until she found the one labeled, “Pumpkin Pie”. She pulled it out and announced, “Found it!”

Alastar grinned. “Great, what does it say we need?”

“One 15 ounce can pumpkin…” read Keavy from off the card. “One 14 ounce can sweetened condensed milk… two eggs… 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon… half a teaspoon ground ginger… half a teaspoon ground nutmeg… half a teaspoon salt… and a nine inch crust.” She looked up and sighed, watching her father pull out some of the ingredients and mumbling to himself- he did that a lot when he was cooking.

“Cinnamon… ginger… nutmeg… salt…” he muttered, pulling the four spices from the upper cabinet where they were kept and setting them on the counter near the bowl that he had set out before. He looked back to Keavy and asked, “What do we need to heat the oven to?”

Keavy looked at the recipe, scanning over it, and answered, “425 degrees.”

Alastar nodded and spun over to the oven, turning the dial on it to 425. He looked back at Keavy, who was reading over the rest of the recipe, and asked, “What next, Keave?”

Keavy almost automatically replied, “Whisk pumpkin, eggs, spices, and salt into medium- sized bowl until smooth.” She looked back up at her father eagerly. “Can I help? Please with ice cream and whipped cream and chocolate syrup and a cherry on top?” She looked at Alastar with the big green eyes she stole from him and smiled the very biggest smile she could manage, and this made Alastar laugh.

“Yes, Keavy, of course you can,” he said with a grin on his face. “Would you like to whisk it?”

Keavy nodded and asked, “Can I help measure, too?”

Alastar nodded and said, “First, let’s get the pumpkin in. We will need a can opener for this.” He gave Keavy a significant look as he grabbed the can of pumpkin and tiptoed carefully over to the jar of large spoons and other kitchen supplies, which included the can opener. He held up a finger to his face, motioning for Keavy to be quiet, and this made her laugh. Suddenly, Alastar grabbed the can opener out of the jar and starting “fighting” with it, holding it against the can of pumpkin, and after a few moments of struggling with the dangerous utensil, the lid of the can opened and the can opener stopped fighting. Alastar sighed in relief. “Well, that was a close one!”

Keavy laughed. “Dad… you’re weird.”

Alastar smirked and raised an eyebrow as he dumped the contents of the can into the bowl. “Maybe, but we’re related. So there.” He picked up the can of condensed milk and sighed as he opened it and poured that into the bowl as well. “Nooo, save us, saaaaavvve uuuuussss…” he cried in a high-pitched voice as the condensed milk slowly poured into the bowl with the pumpkin.

Keavy tried to raise her eyebrow, but being six, she had not quite mastered that technique yet, and so looked like she was half-scowling, half-smiling. “Dad, you’re being weird again.” She sighed as she looked at the other ingredients on the counter. “I wanna measure something…” she complained.

Alastar smiled and pulled several plastic cups and spoons from the cupboard, which he placed next to Keavy. “And measure, you will,” he reassured her. He picked up the small jar of cinnamon and gave it to Keavy. “Now how much cinnamon do we need?”

Keavy looked back at the recipe. “A teaspoon.”

Alastar grabbed one of the smaller spoons and gave it to Keavy. “OK, here’s a teaspoon, Keaves.”

Keavy smiled and opened the lid of the cinnamon, carefully pouring the grains of cinnamon into the small spoon, a few escaping from the spoon and falling onto the tile floor. She scraped off the excess at the top of the spoon back into the cinnamon container and looked up at her dad, who nodded, and then she emptied the tiny bit of cinnamon into the bowl.

Alastar grabbed the ginger, the nutmeg, and an even smaller spoon and gave the ginger and the spoon to Keavy as she gave the teaspoon back to him and he said, “Here’s the ginger, we need a half a teaspoon of that, right?”

Keavy looked back at the recipe to check, and then nodded. “Right.” She opened the ginger, which had a very tiny lid, and concentrated on getting it into the small spoon as Alastar held his hand underneath it. She shook it gently and the ginger fell out into the spoon, and also into Alastar’s hand. Keavy cautiously brushed off the remainder back into the jar and poured the tiny portion of ginger into the bowl, giving the ginger back to her dad. She looked at him expectantly. “Well, there’s still the nutmeg an’ the salt!” she informed him.

Alastar smiled and handed her the nutmeg. He couldn’t help but grin at the six-year-old’s careful precision and exactness when it came to measuring the ingredients with the tiny little spoon, and the way her bright green eyes darkened and crossed as they focused in on the spoon and the nutmeg that she tapped in as carefully as a little girl who was just learning her way around the kitchen could. She reached out behind her and spilled the nutmeg into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients and instantly demanded, just like a six-year-old professional would, “Salt!” She held out her hand impatiently, and Alastar held back a chuckle as he handed her the remaining ingredient.

She uncapped the small top on the salt container and tipped the large container slowly, and salt quickly dispensed into the spoon. Alastar grabbed the salt container and Keavy scraped off the extra salt on the top into her hand, shaking the rest into the bowl. She looked up at her dad and smiled. “That’s all!”

Alastar looked at Keavy skeptically. “Is it?”

Keavy looked puzzled for a moment, and then she remembered. “The eggs!”

“How many do we need?” asked Alastar.

Keavy looked at the recipe and then replied, “Two!” as she held up two fingers.

Alastar opened the refrigerator door and pulled out two large eggs, throwing them up in the air and juggling them. Keavy looked at him and said, “Mom’s gonna be mad…”

Alastar seemed highly skeptical of this. “Nah, she won’t…”

It was at this moment that he lost track of what he was doing and the eggs went flying out of his grasp and onto the floor, splattering all over.

Keavy sighed. “Are you sure?”

Alastar stared down at the mess of eggs. “Yeah… well… that’s why we have more eggs… and we’re not going to tell Mom about this, are we?”

Keavy laughed. “Nope!” she said.

Alastar grinned over at her. “Have I told you lately that you’re my favorite daughter?”

Keavy tried to raise her eyebrow again and put her hands at her side. “Dad… I’m your only daughter.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.” Alastar ruffled Keavy’s hair and looked back at the mess. “Now to clean this up…”

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