Calendar Girl: November: Book 11 (9 page)

Wes’s jaw clenched, and Max lifted his hand to his mouth. “When was the last time you and Maddy had a Thanksgiving dinner, bird and all?”

I looked around at the insane amount of food. There would be no way we could eat all of this. Though with the way my mouth was watering at the smell alone, I’d definitely make a wholehearted effort.

“Um, I don’t know. Mads?” I asked.

She shook her head. “We’ve not had a turkey dinner before now. I mean, we’ve had turkey at the casino, and I’ve attempted turkey breast before, but nothing like this. Reminds me of the buffets in Caesar’s. Now they did Thanksgiving. Remember that year we sneaked in!” She giggled, and I smirked, remembering how we’d decided we were going to have a Thanksgiving dinner if it killed us. So we left the house, walked the two miles to the strip, and sneaked in to Caesar’s Palace.

There were so many people hanging around they didn’t even notice the two little girls that loaded up plates and walked right out. Or maybe they didn’t care as long as we ate. It sounded very much like one of those sad
After School Specials,
but we had a blast.

I laughed. “Best thanksgiving dinner we had…well, until now,” I said while shoving in a mouthful of turkey slathered in gravy. “Oh, man, this is so good!”

Max crossed his hands over his chest. “You mean to tell me that you’ve never had a Thanksgiving dinner sitting around the table until now? When you’re twenty-five and twenty-one?”

I thought about it. Honestly, it had never dawned on either of us that we were missing out. You couldn’t really miss something you’d never had. Instead of responding, I just shook my head and tasted the homemade stuffing. “To-die-for stuffing, Cyndi!” I complimented.

Her face lit up, and she preened under the praise. “Thank you. Wait until you try Max’s green bean casserole. He doesn’t cook much, but he can make a mean casserole!” She laughed.

I was thankful that she helped steer the conversation away from the past. When she looked up, I mouthed my thanks to her. She nodded and went back to eating.

Silence hit the table after that, the atmosphere feeling a bit tense. I had to fix it. This was our first Thanksgiving, and I wanted everyone to be happy. “Oh! Wes and I have an announcement.”

Maddy’s eyes widened. “You’re pregnant!”

I made a gagging sour face. “God, no! Yikes, Maddy.”

Wes laughed at my response and held me around the waist while I stood next to his chair. “Don’t worry. We’re planning for a couple mini Channings in the future, but we’d like to get married first.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, Mads. Jeez. What I was going to say though is we’ve set a date.” The entire table waited for me to finish. “January first, New Year’s Day.”

“This year?” Maddy gasped.

The biggest, cheesiest smile crossed my face. I couldn’t help it. I was getting married in… “Five weeks!”

“Oh my god. That’s so soon. Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” Her brow furrowed as did Matt’s, but for very different reasons. Maddy’s because it was unheard of for me to have committed to a guy enough that I’d be getting married in the first place, let along doing so in five weeks. Matt’s was more because I told him to wait two years before marrying my sister. I could imagine this revelation was not making him happy, but he pasted a smile on his face anyway. Yep, good guy.

“Well, I’ll be darned! Where?” Max asked his eyes alight with joy. To him, marriage meant family. And he was all about family.

“That’s the best part. We’re going to do a small ceremony on our beach in front of our Malibu home, and then a reception at his parents’ estate. They’re planning the reception, and we’ll take care of the ceremony. Really simple, mostly family and really close friends. Probably around fifty or so on the beach and whoever else the Channing clan wants to invite to the reception. Can you all come?”

“Like I’d miss it! I’m the maid of honor right?” Maddy’s eyes gleamed and turned a darker green.

“That’s right. And I’d love for our Isabel here to be the flower girl. Would you like that, love?” I asked her. She’d been happily shoveling potatoes into her mouth.

“What’s a flower girl?” she asked around a mouthful.

“It means you get to wear a pretty dress and a crown and drop flower petals on the beach until you get to a spot so that Auntie Mia can walk over the flowers.”

“I get to wear a crown?”

I knew adding the crown was a good idea.

“Tiara probably.”

“That’s like a crown with diamonds?” She asked her tone very serious.

“Yes, love, it is.”

She inhaled a huge breath, her entire face getting pink as her eyes widened. “I get to be a flower queen! On a beach! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” She started screaming before Cyndi could even reply.

Jackson woke and started crying at the loud outburst from his sister. Max got Jack and hushed him instantly, holding his son in his very capable arms. Max put this little circular thing they called a binkie in his mouth for him to suck on, and he snuggled right in and closed his eyes again. Being an infant was hard work. Eat, sleep, poop. Repeat.

“Yes, Isabel, you get to be a flower queen. Now, can you use your inside voice and try not to wake your brother again?” Cyndi spoke in that motherly tone I hoped I’d pick up on when the time was right.

“This is just fantastic. Let’s make a toast,” Max said, and held up his glass. We all held up our various drinks. “May both of my sisters be as happy in their upcoming marriages as I have been in mine all these years…”

“And to the newest member of our family!” I shifted my glass toward Jack.

“And to having my entire family right where I’ve always wanted them. At my table, breaking bread, making memories.”

“
Salud
. Cheers.” Voices rang through the room and were interrupted by a shrill from my back pocket.

Shit. I hadn’t turned off my cell phone. I pulled it out and looked at the display briefly before I was going to hit the ignore button until I recognized the number as one from Las Vegas.

“Sorry, guys,” I said quickly and answered the phone. I pressed a finger to my opposite ear and walked into the kitchen. I felt the blood drain from my face, and I felt weak and on shaky ground while I listened to the nurse update me about my father. I finished the call and went back to the table placing my hands on the chair back, more to hold me up than anything else.

Maddy stood up on instinct. “What’s going on? Was it Pops?”

My eyes met her worried ones. I didn’t know how to respond. My tongue felt swollen and dry in my mouth.

“Oh my God. It is Pops. Did he…?” She let the question linger endlessly, the entire room knowing exactly what she was asking.

Wes got to his feet and wrapped an arm around me. I leaned against his side and shook my head as if to clear it. Finally, I licked my lips and spoke.

“He’s awake. Pops is awake and asking for us.”

“
W
hat is
it about you and scampering off to Vegas every time I finally get you into Texas?” Max joked while I threw my clothes into my suitcase. Seriously tossed my shit right in without folding. I’d have to sit on it to make it close, but I didn’t care. Getting to the airport as quickly as possible was the goal.

“Were you able to get a plane?” I asked, my hands shaking so violently Wes grabbed them and held them to his chest. His warmth seeped through my chilled bones straight to my heart.

“It’s going to be okay. Your dad is awake and asking for you. This is good news. Okay?” His eyes seared into mine giving me something to hold on to when everything else around me felt as if it were falling away. I just needed to get to Vegas, see Pops for myself, and then I’d be fine.

Max put his hand on my back. “Cunningham Oil’s plane is fueled up and ready to take off as soon as you get there. Now you’re sure you don’t want me to come?” Max asked, emotion clouding his words.

I turned and wrapped my arms around him, squeezing his broad frame the best I could. I wanted him to feel how much today had meant to me. “No. Thank you. Thank you for everything. For the best Thanksgiving I’ve ever had. For being the best brother I could ever dream of. And for being there.” My voice shook. I was holding on by a thread. “But Maddy and I need to do this, and I have Wes, and she has Matt.”

His chest puffed up. “But I’m your brother. I want you taken care of.” God, he was an amazing man.

Wes’s arm slipped over my shoulder. “Max, I’m going to take good care of her, and I’ll make sure Matt does too for Madison, though I don’t think the guy needs any reminding. We’re good. Really. I’ll send regular updates to keep you informed. Cool?” Wes held out a hand.

Max nodded and gripped Wes’s hand then curled his enormous paw around his other shoulder. “Glad you’re marrying my sister. I know I’m protective and a bit overboard when it comes to these women, but you gotta remember, partner, I just got them and can’t risk losing ’em.”

Wes clapped Max right back. “I got you. And I do want to talk more about buying that land from you after the wedding.”

“It’s yours,” Max said instantly. “I’d give just about anything to have my sister living here. Having her living next door part of the year will be a mighty fine dream as well. I’ll talk to Matt about the other land. He’s a proud man from a proud family. They’ll want to buy the land themselves. I figure I’ll work them a deal about farming theirs, mine, and yours.”

Wes pinched his lips together and held out his hand again. “Sounds like a plan. More to come?”

Max grinned. “Always, partner.”

On the way out of our guest room we met up with Matt and Maddy. “I’m sorry, Max, but it’s Pops.” Maddy’s voice cracked, and she winced.

“Go, darlin’. Time to see your dad.”

At the stairs we hugged Max, Cyndi, Isabel, and sweet little Jackson. It was bittersweet but necessary. “See you soon,” I said.

“Sooner rather than later, sugar. That’s a promise.” Max waved as we loaded up the car and were off to the airport.

We’re coming, Pops. Hold on.

M
addy
and I held hands as we walked side by side down the long white corridor. We’d been here a hundred times before, but today it felt different, new somehow. I squeezed her hand, and she squeezed mine right back.

“It’s always ever going to be me and you, Sis.” I said, repeating what I’d said to her when we were kids. Every time we were scared or out of food, when the electricity was shut off in our shack of a home or our dad passed out on the couch when we needed to be taken to school, I’d say those words to her.

“Forever and ever,” she replied, the same way she always had.

I grinned. My marrying Wes and her marrying Matt didn’t change our relationship. Nothing would. Not only was it blood-deep, but it had been born of years of strife, having only the other’s back, and loving each other when no one else cared. Sure, we knew Pops loved us, but he didn’t love us enough to pull himself out of the bottle long enough to show us much of what a healthy life looked like. We had to find that on our own, and now…we knew.

We made it to the door that was propped open. The sound of a TV newscaster could be heard in the distance. Maddy and I walked in together. Our father was sitting up in bed, not lying down. His salt-and-pepper hair was slick and combed back as if he’d recently showered, though it was more likely a sponge bath. His chin was covered in a full beard complete with gray hairs running through the darker strands. His brown eyes locked on the two of us, and as we stood there while tears streaked down his face.

“My b-babies.” Stiffly he opened his hands, likely not being able to use the muscles in his arms at this time. “Give your old man some love,” he said, his voice a brittle rasp from lack of use.

“Daddy!” Maddy cried and ran over to one side of his bed.

“Pops,” I said solemnly, stuck watching him hug my sister. I’d wanted him to wake up every day for the past eleven months, and finally, by the grace of God, he was here. Alive. Awake.

“Mia, c-come h-ere.” He croaked and moved his fingers slightly by his side as if gesturing for me to sit next to him. Maddy was already lying on the bed, cuddled up to her daddy. Only he wasn’t her real father. A pang hit me like a punch to the gut. Now was not the time to open those wounds.

I walked over to my father, sat down, and raised my hand to his head. I traced his face from his forehead, down his temple and the side of his cheek, to his prickly beard. His skin had a healthy pink glow that he’d not had in more years than I could remember, and I realized this was my father, stone-cold sober. And he was magnificent. “You look good, Pops.”

One of his hands shook as he raised it up, cupped the back of my neck, and let it rest heavily against my shoulder so I was supporting it. Right there, I leaned against his chest and let it all go. The months of worry, the fear that he wouldn’t make it, the belief that I might not see the only parent I had left. All of it. The tears came fast and furious to the three of us. We held one another and cried. Maddy and I both turned to our dad, heads resting on his chest. I grabbed Maddy’s hand and placed it over our dad’s heart.

“God, l love you g-girls. M-M-ore than a-anything. Gonna s-show you. Be a g-good d-dad. I-I swear.” His voice broke several times, and his tears leaked onto us, but we didn’t care.

He’d never promised to be better for us before. In the past, he’d wake from a bender, apologize, say he couldn’t help himself, and that would be that. One time, he admitted that he drank to chase the sadness away, and he gambled to replace the anger at our mother.

I closed my eyes and prayed to God that he meant what he said this time, because this was the last chance he’d ever have to make it up to us.

We lay there on our father’s chest for a long time until the three of us were cried out. Nothing but sniffs and long sighs remained of our mental and emotional reunion.

“Uh, h-hello?” Pops said, breaking the silence that had come over our little three-person huddle.

I turned my head and saw Wes standing at the door. A huge smile spread over my face. Seeing him was like seeing an open sky full of stars on a pristine night on our Malibu beach.

Pops grumbled, “Yours, Mia.”

I grinned. “Oh, yeah, he
so
belongs to me.” I jumped out of bed, wiped my face with my hands, and wrapped my arms around my man.

Wes kissed the smile on my face, teeth and all. “Love seeing you smile like that, sweetheart.” He cupped my cheek and wiped away any remaining tears with his thumbs.

“Come over here. I want you to meet my dad,” I said with a giddiness I felt all the way down to my toes.

Holding Wes’s hand, I brought him to my father’s bedside. “Weston Channing, meet my father, Michael Saunders. Pops, this is my fiancé, Wes,” I said with a heaping dose of pride.

Pops eyes narrowed. “Fiancé?”

Just as I was about to respond, Matt entered the room. Maddy hopped up and ran to her man. He caught her and spun her around once. She laid a huge yet still innocent kiss on him. “Honey! My daddy is awake!” She bounced on her toes, and he hugged her close.

“Honey?” Pops coughed. “My g-girl has a b-boyfriend? L-Lord.”

“Um, Dad, a lot has happened since you got hurt.” I was uncertain of how much I should say.

“Hurt? C-Cocksuckers j-j-umped me.” He leaned back and closed his eyes. His heart monitor started beeping wildly. My guess was that his blood pressure had spiked, but I didn’t know much about things related to medicine.

A nurse ran into the room and assessed Pops with a frown. “I’m going to have to ask all of you to leave.”

“But…” I held out my hand toward my father. “He’s been out so long.”

The nurse shook her head, pressed a few buttons on the machines near Pops and glared at me. “We’ll talk outside. All of you go. You can come back in the morning when he’s rested.”

My shoulders slumped. Feeling defiant, I pushed past Nurse Ratched, went to my dad, and kissed his forehead. “Rest up. We have a lot to talk about. We’ll be back in the morning.”

Maddy said her goodbyes, and we met the nurse outside. She informed us that he had not been told how long he’d been in a coma. The doctors wanted to do more tests on his mental capabilities and get him started on physical therapy right away. She reminded us that he had a long road ahead of him in his healing and to be patient.

With a promise to meet with the doctor tomorrow morning, we headed out. Wes and I got a room in the hotel across the street, and Maddy and Matt when back to their apartment.

“
H
ey
, bitchface, how're you doing? How’s Pops?” Ginelle asked when I picked up the phone.

I’d refused to talk to anyone other than Gin. Wes touched base with Max. I knew he was crazy with worry, but we were fine. There was nothing to say right now, and I didn’t want to go over my feelings with my brother. He knew us, but he didn’t know how I dealt with things. He didn’t know all the details behind our upbringing, and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to go through it now. I knew he resented our mother the same way I did, but he also didn’t know any of the good stuff about Pops other than the fact that we loved him.

All the other calls I’d gotten were friends wishing me a Happy Thanksgiving. Again, a new experience.

I inhaled and cuddled in the blanket. “Good, as far as I know. We’ll know more when we meet with the doctor tomorrow. The nurse said he didn’t know how long he’d been out. When we tried to introduce Wes and Matt, his blood pressure spiked, and she kicked us out.”

“And how about you?”

I groaned. “It’s weird. Before I saw him awake, I was angry with him. Far beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. And you know, I think I’m justified in that anger. But then, when he held his arms out, it was like I was a little girl all over again, wanting my father’s love more than anything else.”

A tear dripped down my face onto the pillow. My nose started to run, but I didn’t care. I just wiped it with the sheet.

“That sounds pretty normal to me, babe. I mean, Pops is always going to be your dad. He may not have been the best father, but at least he didn’t leave,” she offered, trying to make me feel better.

“Didn’t he though? Every time he sucked back the whiskey, he disappeared. Each sip he took from Mr. Jack Daniels himself turned him into another person. One who forgot he had two young daughters to feed, clothe, and get to school. And this last stunt? A million dollars? It’s like he was asking to die.”

Ginelle groaned and let out a long breath. “Maybe he did it on purpose.”

That single thought shot through me like a lightning bolt, its electric energy shredding through bone, tissue, and muscle. “Holy shit. You could be right. He may have been ignorant when it came to gambling, but he’d never be stupid enough to owe a man like Blaine Pintero a cool mil.”

“Sometimes, when you want out of your life, you take the easy road. Pops would know that Blaine would come for him.”

“Yes, he would.” I shook my head, the shock of this option all but consuming my thoughts.

“How’s the ocean?” Ginelle said randomly, but it didn’t sound as though she’d asked me the question.

“Mmm, salty tears of the gods,
Ku'u lei
,” a man’s low rumble said close enough to the phone for me to hear. I knew that word.
Ku'u lei.
It meant “my beloved” in Hawaiian. I’d heard Tai’s dad say it to his mother. And Tao had just said it to my best friend. The plot thickened.

Wanting to change the subject, I jumped right on this new development. “So how was your Thanksgiving? Eat a lot of turkey?” I asked in a suggestive tone.

Ginelle made a moaning sound low in her throat. “Girl, let’s just say the only bird I swallowed was a heaping dose of fat Samoan cock.”

I burst out laughing. Only Ginelle could make anything involving Thanksgiving dirty.

“Seriously, Mia, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do when he leaves. I’ll have to stock up on triple A batteries for sure. He’s ruining me for sex.” She sighed. “Now I know why you spent a month fucking his brother. The Niko men…Jesus Christ, my hoo-hah will never be the same.” She let out a long groan. “He looks at me with those black eyes, and I swear my legs fall open like Moses parting the Red Sea.”

I chuckled. “You are so twisted.”

“And sated. Like
all
the time. Just when I think he’s done, ready to put the beast between his thighs away, he brings that fat dick back out, and I’m weeping all over for it again.”

“Stop it! Spare the details.”

“You mean like how he can use his hand to—”

“La-la-laaaaa, la la laaaa, la la laaa la laaa.” I kept singing "Jingle Bells" until her words stopped.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Not even a little.” I thought back to my Wes taking me up against the tree the other day, and the space between my thighs tingled.

She snorted. “Oh, that’s right, you’ve got the movie-making surfer all up in that shiznet. How is Wes. by the way?” Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Nightmares getting better?”