Page 13 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“That’s not the right word. But it just felt so weird. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Kind of like visiting a foreign country—a hostile one. Or maybe another planet.”

Erik chuckled. “Yeah, I sometimes feel a little like that when I’m over there.”

“Do you go over there much?”

“Not much. I don’t feel particularly welcome, if you know what I mean.”

“I didn’t feel particularly welcome either. Mrs. Bradshaw was not happy to see me. And she wasn’t very good at hiding it.”

Erik’s brow creased. “Does this affect how you feel about Olivia?”

“I don’t know, Dad. To be honest, it scares me a little. I remember hearing once that before you marry a girl, you should take a good hard look at her mother because that’s what you could end up with.”

“Marry?” Erik laid two strips of bacon on his already full plate.

“Yeah, that’s premature, I know. But even if you’re just dating someone, I think it could apply. And it doesn’t help that Mrs. Bradshaw can’t stand our family. I mean, seriously, Dad, what would that be like?”

Erik glumly shook his head. “Those are valid points.”

“Malcolm!” exclaimed his mother, coming through the door with a plate of sausages in her hands. “You’re here for breakfast. How nice. I thought you’d probably eat at the Bradshaws’ house.”

“When all these great cooks are over here?” he said in a jovial tone.

She set the dish down. “Well, there’s enough food here to feed an army. Are you going to church with us this morning? That’s why we’re getting such an early start. The whole family has promised to go to first service with us in honor of my birthday. Isn’t that sweet? How about you?”

He nodded, munching on a crispy strip of bacon. “Sure, I’d like to go too.”

His mom stepped closer with a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “How did it go over at Olivia’s house?”

He shrugged and exchanged glances with Dad. “Oh, it was pretty quiet. And the bed was super comfy.” To his relief, two of his brothers entered the room, arguing about politics like they often did at family gatherings.

“How about if we ban political debates,” Erik told his sons, “in honor of Mom’s birthday weekend.”

They reluctantly toned it down, and Malcolm carried his plate into the kitchen to express gratitude to the creators of the breakfast feast. Like always, the chatter was fast and witty and familiar, and before long, they were all laughing together.

When it was time to leave for church, Malcolm told his dad he wanted to take his own car and get gas. As he went out, he glanced over at the Bradshaws’ house and considered asking Olivia to join him, but for some reason he just couldn’t ring that doorbell. He thought about texting her but convinced himself she might be sleeping in and didn’t want to bother her. Maybe he’d see her at church.

The McEntire family filled almost two full rows in the sanctuary. As they all sat together, singing familiar songs and listening to a sermon about Advent, Malcolm thought about Olivia. If, and it was a huge if, they ever decided to get married, the ceremony would most likely take place right here, with his family and their friends filling much of the church on the groom’s side. He wondered who would be on the bride’s side. The Bradshaws had never seemed to have many friends. Not like his family anyway. And why was he even thinking about it? Thoughts of the ice-cold Mrs. Bradshaw filled him with apprehension. What if Olivia did turn out to be like that? After all, they say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. But then he looked at his siblings and realized how all of them were completely different from each other . . . and for a moment he felt hopeful.

When the service ended and he was leaving, he noticed old Doc Wheeler in the back and decided to exchange a greeting.

“Do you remember me?” he asked.

“Of course, I do. Malcolm McEntire.” Dr. Wheeler shook his hand. “I hear you got your degree in veterinary medicine a year or so ago.”

“It’s actually been almost six years.” Malcolm explained about the vet clinic he worked at.

“Do you like that? Being a vet in the city?”

“Well, the experience is good. But we’re an emergency clinic, open 24/7, so my hours are pretty random.”

Dr. Wheeler nodded. “I get a few late-night calls too—emergencies. It used to be easier back when I was younger. Marsha keeps telling me it’s time to think about retiring.” His eyes grew thoughtful. “Or hire a younger vet to help out.”

Malcolm stood straighter, smiling with confidence. “Well, if you ever get serious about that, I hope you’ll keep me in mind.”

“Really?” Dr. Wheeler gave him a good hard look. “You know I treat livestock as well as family pets.”

“I know.” Malcolm nodded eagerly. “I’ve missed that since interning.”