Chapter Fourteen

I spent the next few hours ducking Susan so many times that I felt like quacking.

After eating some of my mom’s blue ribbon–winning bacon and cheddar cheese quiche, and then letting the kids open a few more presents that weren’t from the North Pole, I joined Aunt Zoe, Harvey, and my mom in the kitchen. Christmas dinner preparations were the main topics of discussion initially as the three of them got a rhythm going, and while my cooking skills were shitty at best, my dishwashing abilities were legendary. Not to mention that staying within range of the oven kept me away from Susan, who also made a habit of avoiding anything having to do with the culinary arts.

One way or another, I was determined to get through the day without ruining Christmas, and that meant keeping my distance from my sister. My mother might have made a strong case at the minimart for pardoning Susan’s enthusiasm for bareback riding my boyfriends, but I wasn’t naïve enough to forget the tinsel tart’s ability to wreak havoc in my life in general.

“You tryin’ to rinse all the color off that plate, Sparky?” Harvey asked, dishtowel in hand.

“Shush up and dry.” I shoved the dripping plate at him.

He took the plate and grinned in the direction of my mom, who was rolling out a piecrust over on the bar. “Did she get her quick temper from you or her pa?”

Mom pushed a loose strand of blond hair away from her face, smearing flour on her cheek in the process. “Blake always says Violet is a chip off Zoe’s block.”

Aunt Zoe looked up from the prime rib she was checking for temperature. “She does have the stubborn streak that runs deep in our family line.”

And a killing streak, too, I thought as I scrubbed out the pot in which Harvey had boiled potatoes.

“Make sure ya save those meat drippins,” Harvey told her. “I’ll need ‘em for my Yorkshire pudding and the gravy for the taters.”

I licked my lips, remembering the last time he’d made Yorkshire pudding. Forty-plus years of playing bachelor had turned Harvey into one hell of a cook. If it weren’t for Doc, I’d pester the ol’ boy to move in with me and the kids to take care of our bellies.

“Speaking of family business,” I said while rinsing out the pot, “a little birdy told Mom and me today that you recently turned down a marriage proposal.”

Aunt Zoe froze.

Harvey hooted. “Well, slap the dog and spit in the fire.”

“Is that true?” I asked, handing the pot to Harvey.

She shoved the prime rib back in the oven and slammed the door. “I’m going to clock Martin in his glass jaw for running his big fat yap.” Scowling, she pointed the thermometer at me. “You need to keep your lips zipped about that. Nobody else needs to know about it, not even Doc.”

“Blake knows,” Mom said as she cut out a pattern in the pie dough.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I dried my hands with a corner of Harvey’s towel.

“Well, for one, I turned him down, so it’s a moot point. For another, I didn’t figure it was anyone else’s business. Apparently, Reid thinks otherwise.”

“He did find a way to join us for Christmas,” Mom observed, fitting the dough on top of the heap of cherries in the pie pan. “Something tells me he didn’t hear your rejection in his heart.”

Aunt Zoe scoffed. “He should’ve. I did my damnedest to punch it in there.”

“Don’t be mad at Reid.” I dropped onto one of the bar stools across from my mom, who was pinching the edge of the crust. “He was only explaining to Dad what his intentions are this time around.”

Mom giggled. “Reid did share your response to his proposal, which couldn’t have been easy in front of the three of us.”

Poor Reid. I’d been witness to more than one dose of humiliation doled out by my aunt. The first time was when she’d punched him hard enough to knock him off a cliff. The second happened after we hauled him back up from the ledge below the cliff. He’d asked her to consider becoming a couple again and she’d turned him down, hopped in her pickup, and driven away, leaving me behind to keep Reid company. Then there was today’s admission. Coming clean in front of my parents had to have been up there with waltzing down Deadwood’s Main Street in nothing but his favorite red underwear. It was a wonder Reid even wanted me around anymore.

Aunt Zoe sprinkled bacon bits on the mushroom caps stuffed with cream cheese. “What did he tell you?”

“That you sucker-punched him,” Mom told her, brushing the crust with an egg white.

I added, “And that you demanded to be taken home immediately. I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I tell you everything.”

“That’s a bunch of hogwash,” she said.

“Which part?” Harvey asked.

“Both Reid’s proposal and Violet saying she tells me everything. She kept Doc a secret from me for weeks.” Setting the pan of mushroom caps aside, Aunt Zoe waved me over. “Finish up these deviled eggs, will you?”

“Violet’s the queen of secrets. She always has been.” Mom sprinkled sugar on top of the pie and then wiped her hands on her apron. “There. Do you think we have enough pies?”

I grew up needing to keep secrets. Having Susan always searching for my emotional gold to plunder and destroy made being secretive a must. “Mom, you already had four pies made when we arrived last night. I told you we don’t need any more.”

“I disagree, Sparky.” Harvey winked at Mom. “Ya can never have enough cherry pie. Ain’t that right, Hope?”

“That’s right, Willis.”

“Plus,” I continued, “there are the Christmas cookies the kids made. Oh, and that powdered sugar and chocolate cereal stuff that makes a big mess of my kids’ fingers and anything they touch.”

“It’s called Chocolate Puppy Chow and happens to be Addy’s favorite.”

“That’s just because it has an animal in the name.” I pointed my egg yolk and mayo–covered knife at the sideboard where even more desserts waited on display. “You have stained-glass cookies and homemade s’more bars and Mexican wedding cookies, too.”

“Weddin’ cookies might come in handy if Zoe changes her mind about Reid wantin’ to get hitched,” Harvey said, laughing as Aunt Zoe grabbed a towel and swatted at him.

Mom slipped by them, stealing the towel from Aunt Zoe on the way to the sink. “I thought commitment was what you wanted from Reid the last time you were an item.”

“Years ago, yes.” Aunt Zoe uncovered Harvey’s homemade rolls that had been left to rise and slid the tray into the top oven. “Now, it’s a matter of fool me once, shame on him; fool me twice, shame on me.”

I finished filling the remaining egg halves and tossed the knife into the dishwater. “But you asked him to marry you the first time, not the other way around.”

“Reid really wants to settle down with you now. He seemed genuinely sincere.” Mom grabbed a jar of olives from the refrigerator. “Doesn’t that make a difference to you?”

A growl came from Aunt Zoe. “When it comes down to it, marriage is just a piece of paper. What matters is what’s in his heart.”

Harvey sprinkled fried onions on the top of the green bean casserole he’d thrown together earlier. “It doesn’t hurt if he’s rich enough to eat fried chicken every day, too.”

“Don’t let Elvis or Addy hear that,” Mom said, playing along with a giggle. “Violet, get the sweet pickles out from the pantry, please.”

“And the marshmallows,” Aunt Zoe added.

“What also matters is what’s in your heart,” I said after I had a jar of homemade pickles in one hand and a bag of marshmallows in the other.

Aunt Zoe caught the bag when I tossed it to her. “I know what’s going on in my ol’ ticker. His? Not so much.” She opened the bag and covered the casserole dish of yams with mini-marshmallows. “I thought I knew years ago, but he had the wool pulled over my eyes.”

Harvey set the green bean casserole on the counter next to the stove. “You sure ya don’t want to try trottin’ along in a double harness for a bit? Single stalls get awful cold and lonely after a while, no matter how much straw you stuff all around ya. I know that for a fact.”

“I’m positive,” she said.

“If Sparky ends up moving in with Doc someday, a li’l company might be nice.”

Moving in with Doc was something I’d thought about so many times while twiddling my thumbs at Calamity Jane Realty that I deserved the top spot on the Daydreamers Wall of Fame. However, I came with two kids, a cat, a hamster, and a chicken. While Doc enjoyed having me in his bed, I wasn’t sure he’d be as thrilled about all of the fingerprints, cat hair, and chicken feathers that would result from our merging of abodes.

“I’ll tell you what, Willis,” Aunt Zoe said. “If Violet moves in with Doc, I’ll save her room for you and your lazy ol’ dog to keep me company in my lonely stall.”

Harvey’s grin hung from ear to ear. “Speaking on Ol’ Red’s behalf, it’s a deal.”

“Violet.” Mom looked up from prepping the relish dish. “Go find Susan and have her help you set the table. The Christmas plates are in the china cabinet, along with some new cloth napkins I bought for the occasion.”

I started to tell my mom I’d set the table on my own, but then remembered I was not going to cause any problems this Christmas. That vow included not bucking my mom at every turn when it came to Susan. “Okay. How much longer until we eat?”

“Probably about forty-five minutes, max,” Aunt Zoe answered, getting a nod from Harvey.

“I’ll let everyone know dinner is within the hour.” I grabbed a handful of Chocolate Puppy Chow from the sideboard on my way out of the kitchen and shoved it all in my mouth at once. I needed all of the help I could get with being sweet when I ran into the holly-jolly harlot.

In the living room I found Layne standing in front of Cornelius, who lounged in my dad’s recliner. My son was swinging his trident around in the air, slaying invisible enemies. I stood next to the Christmas tree, watching and listening.

“Who would you rather battle?” Layne took another swing. “Hydra or a kraken?”

“A kraken,” Cornelius said without hesitation. “Hydra had poisonous breath and lethal blood.”

“And if you chopped off one head, two would grow back.” Layne pretended to jab his enemy.

“Hydra’s head regeneration is only in later versions of the story, of course.”

“Of course,” Layne parroted. “If you were walking alone at night in the middle of nowhere, would you rather come across a comozos in the Mexican jungle or a vampire in Transylvania?”

“Do you mean to say Camazotz, the creature that was periodically released from the Maya underworld to keep humans in line according to Maya mythology?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. The giant demon thing with the head and wings of a bat but the body of a man. I read that he took out a whole village.”

One of Cornelius’s dark eyebrows rose. “Did you know that some experts believe Camazotz was based on a real creature?”

The trident lowered. “No way!”

“Yes way. Fossils were found in the Maya jungle of a giant bat that might have led to the myth.”

Layne puffed out his chest. “I’d like to see a giant man-eating bat.”

No, he wouldn’t, but I kept my mouth shut. Layne was talking tough in front of Cornelius, trying to impress and bond with him. I’d seen Layne do the same thing with Cooper and Doc. My son was growing up, seeking out males as role models. I was lucky to have so many smart and strong examples to help teach Layne how to be a man worth his salt.

My eyes watered a bit as I watched Layne swing his trident again. I just prayed the lessons would help keep him alive when the monsters came.

Wait. That was negative. I thought of Camo-Claus’s words and forced a smile to my lips. Think positive thoughts.

Okay. I was glad for these lessons because they would help keep Layne alive if the monsters came.

There. That was better.

I looked up to find Cornelius focused on me, his blue eyes searching. I smiled wider, willing the positivity to blaze forth.

He flinched and turned back to my son. “Layne, did you know that in China, people honor the bat as a good symbol for happiness and long life, especially if you see five in a group. They call it a five-fold blessing.”

“Really?”

“Why five?” I asked, joining their conversation.

“The number five in Chinese traditions is considered very favorable to success. In this case, the five blessings were happiness, prosperity, longevity, luck, and wealth.”

“How do you know all of this stuff about China and the Maya?” Layne asked.

“Cornelius loves to read,” I explained.

“So do I.” Layne’s face lit up, his eyes big and round. He dropped onto the floor at Cornelius’s feet, resting his trident in his lap. “What else do you know about bats?”

“Let’s see.” Cornelius stroked his pointy goatee. “In the realm of magic, bats are thought of as good for communication. If you build a bat house on your property, you can go call upon the bats to help you communicate better with other humans. My grandmother down in Louisiana had more than twenty bat houses on her farm.”

“Wow!” Layne turned to me. “Can I build a bat house in Aunt Zoe’s backyard?”

I shrugged. “You need to ask her that, not me.”

Back to Cornelius, he said, “Did your grandma talk to the bats?”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Have either of you seen Susan?”

Layne pointed toward the door leading to the basement. “She didn’t like us talking about slaying monsters on Christmas.”

“Monster slaying isn’t for everyone,” I said.

Cornelius gave me one of his odd, crooked smiles. “Some have no choice in the matter.”

That was a natural-born fact. I smiled back. “So, which one would you rather run into at night, Cornelius? Camazotz or Dracula?”

“Well, both are bloodsuckers, but I’d pick Dracula. He’s easier to kill.”

“How do you figure?” I asked.

“All I have to do is drag him out in the sun. According to legend, Camazotz is a far more dangerous foe.”

I nodded. “Man-eating bat demons are deadly. Got it.” With any luck, I’d not run into one any time soon.

I headed for the basement stairs. As I opened the basement door, I heard Layne ask, “Would you rather go out to dinner and a movie with a banshee or a siren?”

The familiar whistling music of one of my dad’s favorite spaghetti westerns lured me downstairs.

When I was growing up, the basement was a rec room for us kids, somewhere my parents would send us to play so they could watch television in peace and quiet. As soon as all three of the kids had moved out, my dad took the space over as his game room, moving in a big-screen television, a high-tech stereo and sound system, a foosball table, a dartboard, and a mini-bar.

Over the years, he’d had to share it periodically, like with me when I moved back home now and then in need of my parents’ help with raising my kids. Or like when Susan returned home months ago to regroup before flying back out into the world to suck the blood out of some other innocent soul.

Layne should have asked Cornelius if he’d rather face off with Susan in a dark alley or a giant man-eating bat.

I shook off my thoughts of Susan and her bloodsucking ilk and focused on Doc, who was waiting to take his turn at the dartboard. He’d showered while I was at the store with my mom, donning black jeans and a red flannel shirt for the holiday.

“Hey, good looking. Come here often?” I asked him as I crossed the rec room.

“Quiet, Parker,” Cooper said while aiming his dart. “I’m trying to focus here.”

Cooper had been the only one who hadn’t brought a bag of clothes, since his plan had involved returning all of us to Deadwood in one piece. He wore his black henley shirt and blue jeans from yesterday that he’d washed and dried last night at the Morgan house.

A round of gunfire rattled from the speakers.

I smirked. “Like you can focus over the sound of Tuco and Blondie shooting up the town?”

“Gunplay is music to my ears,” Cooper replied, closing one eye as he lined up his throw.

A glass clinked over at the minibar.

“Ohhhh,” Susan purred. “I like a man who knows how to handle dangerous toys.”

I grimaced, turning to look Medusa in the eye. Pillar of stone be damned.