Baby Under The Mistletoe

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE DAY OF HIS MOTHER’S Christmas party, West was stuck alone with his dad all day. His two brothers had arrived in town, but they were busy visiting friends and had predictably bowed out of Dad Duty.

“Where’s Julia? Why isn’t she here? She’d know where the book is.”

His father glared at the bookshelf, intent on finding a title he couldn’t remember. He pulled a book down, grunted in frustration, then put it back. On and on this went, as West looked over the work file he’d brought along with him.

A folder containing a review he needed to write of one of his subordinate officers sat open on his lap. He hadn’t had time to get to it yet, it was due as soon as he got back, and he couldn’t force his brain to focus on it. Instead, he could only dwell on the fact that he wasn’t fit to write reviews of other officers, when his own personal life was so screwed.

Since when did officers go around having illegitimate babies to unwed mothers? Okay, sure, he sounded old-fashioned, like his father, but it was true. He didn’t know a single officer who’d experienced a situation like his. He was surrounded in his work life by married couples and families, and those who were single aspired to be like the ones who’d already paired off-or at least they purported to.

His father dropped a book, then muttered a curse as he bent to pick it up.

This study haunted West. He’d always thought of himself having such a place of his own someday, just like his dad. But now…This wasn’t anything like he’d imagined. Sitting here now, reality seemed to mock his small fantasies.

“Dad?” West said.

No answer.

“I’m going to be having a baby soon.”

Assured his father wasn’t really listening, and oddly comforted by the act of talking to no one in particular, he continued, telling him all about Soleil’s pregnancy again, since he surely didn’t remember hearing about it the first time around.

“She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he said. “And she doesn’t want to move to Colorado. She wants to stay here, and I can’t. I’m going back to Colorado Springs after the holidays, and I guess I’ll be one of those long-distance dads who only sees his kids on holidays.

“It won’t be so different from being deployed, like you were a lot-”

“Don’t be a fool.”

West was startled out of his daze. He looked over at his dad, who was staring at him with a look of utter disgust on his face. His eyes had lost the air of confusion that seemed to be there lately, replaced by the old fierceness.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said don’t be a fool. You think your career is going to keep you warm at night? You think your career is going to take care of you when you get old? Look at me and your mother. Where would I be today if it wasn’t for that woman? She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and there’s not a day that passes by that I don’t know it’s true.”

West blinked in confusion. Then his brain caught up to his father’s time warp. He might have been more coherent than usual, but he was still convinced he and Julia had never gotten divorced, apparently.

West hadn’t ever felt sad about his parents’ divorce. He’d been old enough when it happened to see that it was the best thing for his mom, and that his father had had it coming. But now…now he felt the loss of what his father thought he still had.

“If there’s a good woman about to have your baby, and she won’t come to you, you’d better come to her, you damn fool. Do whatever you have to do. Get down on your knees and beg if you have to, but don’t pass up the chance to have a wife and a family. It’s all that matters.”

His father shook his head and shuffled out of the room, done with the conversation apparently, leaving West to contemplate yet another way he’d managed to disappoint his father.

Only this time, it was particularly ironic, because here he was, putting the military first, the way his father had always done. He’d learned well from the old man.

He’d learned everything he knew about how to be a man from him, and he was well on his way to making all the mistakes his father had made.

God, it was true. He’d become his father, in spite of everything. Here he was feeling as if he’d been the rebellious child, the disappointing one, and he’d been completely blinded to the fact that he was doing everything he could to fill his father’s shoes.

Shoes he hadn’t thought he’d wanted to fill.

“Julia!” His father was calling as he wandered down the hallway. “Julia! Where are you?”

West closed his eyes. When did the easy part begin? When did he start feeling like the grown-up who knew what to do, and not the child trying to hide the broken lamp behind his back?

Except, he did know what to do.

All he needed was the courage to do it.

AS SOLEIL STOOD near the entrance to Julia’s kitchen, she tugged at the front of her black velvet dress. It was made of a stretchy fabric that allowed her to wear it even though it wasn’t a maternity dress, but the downside, she realized now, was that it kept sliding up her belly, creating a completely unattractive effect with the front hemline of the dress too high and fabric bunched up on top of her belly.

She surveyed the crowd, counting faces she knew, though she realized after a moment, she was looking for West. He’d said he needed to watch over his father and bring him, and she’d tried not to put too much weight on the fact that they were starting to act a tiny bit like a real couple…and she was starting to miss him when he wasn’t around.

Her mother was at the bar, pouring herself a stiff drink. They’d ridden to the party together in an awkward silence, punctuated by her mother’s occasional attempts at humor-comments such as “Aren’t we the happy little family?”-followed by her put-upon sighs when Soleil gave no response.

Soleil felt bad now, though, because she saw, once she had a few inches’ more space to consider it, that her mother had been trying to make peace as best she could. In a less well behaved state, she would have spent the entire car ride spewing vitriol.

“Soleil!”

She turned to find Julia standing beside her. “Hi,” she said. “Your place looks so nice. I love the decorations.” She indicated the glimmering tree and the garland hanging from the ceiling.

“Oh, I have to do something to keep myself busy in my old age,” Julia said in her usual self-deprecating way.

“You do enough work for ten people.”

Julia waved away the compliment. “I never really learned to sit still, is all. By the way, have you seen West?”

“Not yet.”

“This is the first time I’ve invited my ex-husband to the Christmas party,” Julia said, leaning in close and lowering her voice.

“Maybe we can put him in a room with my mother and let them entertain each other.”

“I’m so glad your mother could make it. She’s such an interesting lady.”

“And you’re such a diplomat, putting it like that.” Soleil gave a wry smile and took a sip of the alcohol-free punch she’d poured herself a few minutes earlier.

As if she sensed she was being talked about, Anne turned from the bar and headed right toward them.

“Julia,” she said when she reached them. “Thank you for inviting us.”

She held a whiskey on the rocks in one hand, and a carrot stick in the other.

“It’s so good to see you again. I’d like to introduce you to another friend who’s a poet, soon as he gets here. I think you’ll like him.”

Her mother nodded and smiled faintly. She was wary of other writers, who tended to either feel intimidated by her accomplishments or else want her to read their work and pass it on to her agent.

“That would be lovely,” she said without sounding as if she meant it.

Julia was gracious enough to ignore her mother’s tone. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to check on some cream puffs in the kitchen.”

Soleil took another sip of her drink and eyed the tableful of finger foods nearby. She hated this kind of stand-around-and-chitchat party, but who didn’t? Everyone in the room looked at least as awkward as she felt, so she vowed to get over herself and make the best of it.

Anne’s holiday attire consisted of a gray cable-knit cashmere sweater of the sort women of a certain income level wore, and a pair of cream-colored dress pants that were exquisitely cut. This was her new, gussied-up mother, apparently, since she’d left her house in Berkeley and moved to ridiculously tasteful Mill Valley. Some part of Soleil found it offensive that her once-braless tie-dye-wearing mama, the one who’d railed against the establishment and shacked up with a Black Panther, was now all polish and cashmere.

When exactly had that happened?

Some time, apparently, during all the years they’d grown more and more distant.

And Anne was right that it had been Soleil’s doing. Here she was now, taking offense even to her mother’s overly tasteful choice of sweaters.

She needed to suck up her bad attitude and get a little Christmas spirit.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a real drink?” her mother asked, eyeing the glass of punch as if worms were crawling out of it.

“Mom, pregnant women aren’t supposed to drink.”

“Right, that’s what they’re telling us, isn’t it? Another way to keep the little women nice and quiet and dull, isn’t it?”

“This isn’t a feminist issue, it’s a medical one. Fetal alcohol syndrome is real.”

“In my day, a woman could have a cocktail without getting a guilt trip over it, and the babies came out fine.”

Soleil could feel her blood pressure rising. “Right, Mom. Of course.”

“Look at you! I had at least two glasses of wine a day up until the day you were born.”

She wasn’t going to get into an argument here, not at Julia’s holiday party, so she said nothing. Arguing would only make her angry and make her mother more combative.

So she turned her back and walked away. Across the room, she saw a friend from town whom she wanted to say hi to, but before she could reach her, the front door opened and West walked in, followed by a smaller, thinner version of the man Soleil knew was the General.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” she said, smiling with relief. “You can save me from my mother.”

West looked grim as he shrugged off his black wool coat. “You remember my dad, don’t you?”

He did an introduction for the benefit of his father’s bad memory, and John Morgan scowled at Soleil as he muttered a greeting.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Morgan. How are you feeling?”

“Somebody’s damn cat keeps getting in my house. I’m gonna get my gun and shoot the thing if it doesn’t stay the hell away.”

“Dad, you’re not going to shoot the cat.” West gave Soleil a look.

“I have a farm, you know, Mr. Morgan. We could always use a cat there, if you’d like me to take him,” she said.

Two rescued cats already lived in the barn, but she could accommodate another one, surely.

“Could you really?” West asked, looking relieved.

“Of course.”

Thank you, he mouthed as his father began fumbling with the buttons on his coat. “Never seen the varmint before in my life, and it wanders in through my front door like it owns the place.”

He was on the verge of pulling off a button.

“Dad, let me help you with that.” West made a move to take over the unbuttoning, but his father swatted his hands away a little too aggressively.

“I can take my own damn coat off! I’m not an invalid.”

Julia, as if sensing the discord, arrived at West’s side.

“Oh, good, you’re here!” she said, giving him a hug.

“John, I could use your help in the kitchen, if you’d like,” she said to her ex-husband.

West and Soleil exchanged a look over Julia’s head.

“Are you sure about that, Mom?” West asked her, but she ignored him and took the General by the arm, leading him away.

West let out a sigh of relief. “You should have seen me trying to get my dad to leave the house. He insisted he had to stay home and watch some television show that hasn’t been on the air in twenty years.”

“How’d you get him to come with you?”

“I told him Mom was waiting for him.” West shook his head. “Whatever weird time warp Dad’s caught in, it’s one where he’s still married to Mom. Only this time around, he seems to do what she tells him to do more often than not.”

“Wow, so maybe it really is a good thing she’s offering to help you with him?”

West shook his head, his expression grim.

But before he could explain, someone cried out, “Look who’s here-the two lovebirds.”

Soleil turned to see her assistant, Michelle, smiling at them. They hugged, and Soleil whispered to her, “Stop looking so smug.”

Michelle whispered back, “How can I? You two are adorable.”

Soleil flashed her an evil look, which Michelle carefully ignored.

She hugged West next.

“I’m so glad you’re sticking around for the holidays this year,” Michelle said to Soleil. “I don’t think I’ve gotten to see you for Christmas as long as I’ve known you.”

Soleil nodded. “Yeah, I guess this is the first time I’ve stayed around, isn’t it?”

“You’ll have to come over for my New Year’s Eve party! It’s going to be great-we’re getting a Slip ’n Slide for the front yard.”

“Won’t it be too cold for that?”

“Not if you drink enough. I mean, not you, exactly, but the rest of us. No pregnant chicks allowed on the Slip ’n Slide.”

Soleil liked to think of herself as mature enough not to worry about things like being left out of the New Year’s debauchery, but she was beginning to feel as if she couldn’t breathe for some reason.

There was something about having West here, people assuming they were a couple, and all that…How had her life stopped resembling her own so fast?

Her mother approached their group, an evil gleam in her eye. Or maybe it was the whiskey she’d been drinking. Either way, it meant trouble, and Soleil’s entire body tensed.

“Mom, you remember my friend Michelle, don’t you?” Soleil said, hoping to distract her.

“Of course. You’re the one married to the playwright, aren’t you?”

Michelle nodded. “I left him home with a cold tonight, poor guy.”

“Good for you. I’ve never understood why women are so willing to be the nursemaid.”

“It sort of goes with the territory.”

“Exactly!” her mother exclaimed a little too enthusiastically.

Soleil cringed. “Mom…”

“Which is why these two should not get married. Don’t you think they’ve got the perfect situation here, Michelle?”

Her friend blinked, stunned at Anne’s words. “Um, I guess that’s up to them, isn’t it?”

“Marriage isn’t a relationship of equals-it’s a power struggle.”

“How would you know when you’ve never been officially married?” Soleil asked as evenly as she could. “And why are you even talking about marriage?”

“I’m trying to head off disaster at the pass. You get knocked up, next thing you know everyone’s peering at your finger, looking for a wedding ring. Believe me, I know. I lived it.”

“That was thirty-five years ago. A few things have changed since then if you haven’t noticed.”

“We pay lip service, but nothing’s really changed. You’ll see.”

“I personally love the power struggle,” Michelle jumped in, trying her best to lighten the mood. “It’s great for our sex life. Especially when I’m the one winning,” she said, grinning big.

Soleil could have kissed her friend. She’d effectively shut her mother up. Her mother, the big avant-garde poet, was remarkably uncomfortable with public discussions of sex.

Public discussions that involved humiliating her daughter-no problem.

But sex? Definitely a problem.

Soleil gave West a look, silently thanking him for putting up with her mother. His eyes were smiling, even though he was trying his best to keep his expression neutral.

He was on her team.

“You look like you could use a little fresh air,” he said, leaning in close. “Why don’t we step outside on the front porch for a bit? Or maybe go for a walk?”

“That would be great,” she said, letting him guide her toward the door.

Once they were outside in the cool night air, Soleil took a deep breath and exhaled, watching her breath form a steamy cloud.

“Wow, ten minutes here and the fireworks show has already started,” West said.

“Ugh. My mother-”

“She is who she is. No changing her now, right?”

“She gets worse with age.”

“Maybe we should water down the whiskey bottle before she has another drink.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Soleil said, laughing. “Except she keeps a flask in her purse, too.”

God, it felt good to laugh. And once she started, she couldn’t stop. She laughed until her belly shook and tears streamed from her eyes.

West, a little bewildered by her outburst, grinned nervously as he waited for her to recover.

“She really does get to you, doesn’t she?” he said once she’d nearly calmed down.

“It’s either laugh or cry. Or both,” she said, wiping the dampness from the corners of her eyes.

West looked up at the night sky, where it was remarkably clear. Stars glittered from above, even more visible than usual.

After a few silent moments, he turned back to her. “Are you warm enough to go for a short walk?”

“Sure,” she said, thrilled at the idea of getting away from the tension in the party.

They walked for a bit in silence, admiring the twinkling lights on the houses nearby, and the glow of the moonlight on the lake beyond the homes. Once they reached the lakeside, they walked along the path that circled this part of Promise Lake.

“Have you ever heard how Promise Lake got its name?” West asked, breaking the silence.

“No, actually. I haven’t.”

“One of the men who settled this area had a bride he left back East when he came here for the gold rush. He was apparently madly in love with her, and he wrote her a letter promising when she came out to live with him, he had a whole beautiful lake that would be hers. He was going to build her a big house at the edge of it, and they’d be rich and live happily ever after.”

“That’s quite the fairy tale,” Soleil said, but she was in more of a mood than usual to buy such nonsense.

“Anyway, his bride was killed on the trip out, and he was heartbroken. The story goes that he never did marry anyone else, simply lived out his life alone here, in a little shack.”

“So how’d the lake come to be named Promise?”

“Well, he did strike it rich enough to own all this land and name the area whatever he wanted, but he never did build the big house. He called it Promise because looking at the lake always reminded him of the promise he wasn’t able to keep.”

Soleil laughed, but okay, she was a tiny bit touched by the story. Not much, though.

West took her hand and stopped her. She turned to face him.

“I know you’re not much on romantic notions, but I hope you’ll tolerate me getting a little sentimental now.”

Maybe it was the cold, but Soleil’s eyes began to sting, and she had to blink a lot to keep them from watering. “Okay.” she said.

“I’m in love with you, Soleil.”

She hadn’t been expecting it. She’d been enjoying the walk. But here it was, the thing she dreaded.

“I’m glad we’re going to be having a baby together.”

“I am, too,” she said weakly.

“I want us to get married and be a family. Will you marry me?”

She felt her throat close up. She didn’t want it to end like this.

“Come with me to Colorado and wherever else I have to go. We can hire someone else to run the farm until I’m eligible for retirement. Then we’ll move here and run it together. It’ll work-we can make it work.”

“West,” she said, feeling horribly sad and tired all of a sudden. “I can’t,” she said. “I just can’t.”

“You’re not even going to think about it?”

“You know how I feel.”

“But-”

“I’m sorry,” she said, turning away, heading back toward his mother’s.

And she was. But now she saw through all the romantic notions, that he really hadn’t changed at all, and they really weren’t meant to be.