Page 25 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

But by day five of her hip injury, she was inwardly seething and feeling like a pot about to boil over, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could contain it.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Olivia asked as she helped her get ready for the day.

“I’m fine,” she snapped in a tone that clearly said she wasn’t fine.

“It’s okay to get angry about your situation,” Olivia said as she slipped a loose tunic top over Jane’s head.

“I’m not angry.” Jane tugged at the elastic waist of the detestable purple knit pants. She’d been forced to wear these baggy things due to her injury. She had no idea where Olivia had found them, but as soon as she could get into real trousers, these ugly things would relocate to the trash. Thanks to her hip, she’d even been sleeping in these horrid pants.

“Okay.” Olivia backed off with a skeptical expression. “Anything else I can help you with this morning?”

“No, thank you,” she said curtly.

“Sure you don’t want to get out of bed? I can help you into your wheelchair.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Jane leaned back into her bed.

Olivia just nodded, moving toward the door. “Let me know if you change your mind about getting out of here.”

“I’m fine!” Jane exclaimed. “Please, stop hovering.”

“Grandma will have your breakfast—”

“I don’t want breakfast!” Jane yelled. “All I want is for everyone to leave me alone.”

“Okay.” Olivia held up her hands in surrender.

“And I want my house to return to my house,” Jane continued hotly. It felt like something inside of her had snapped, like the woman she’d been trying to be had gone up in smoke and the real Jane was back. “I want all those trashy decorations removed. I want it all to be like it was before. I hate what you’ve all done. I hate everything about my life. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.” And she began to cry.

“Oh, Mom.” Olivia came closer.

“No!” Jane looked up at her with tears streaming. “And I hate your pity. Please, just leave me alone. Tell everyone to just leave me alone. And for the record, I’m canceling Christmas this year.”

Olivia’s eyes were wide, but she mutely nodded.

“Oh, I don’t care if the rest of you celebrate,” Jane retreated a bit. “Just leave me out of it. And leave me alone.”

“I’ll tell Dad and Grandma that you need some alone time,” Olivia said solemnly.

“Thank you,” Jane growled. “And close the door.”

Olivia did as she was told, but as soon as Jane was alone, she felt guilty. Why was she being so mean? What was wrong with her? Was there any hope? Right now, if she had a magic wand and could turn her home into what it used to be, what it normally was at Christmas, she thought perhaps she’d be happy. Except there was her aching hip and her immobility and her horrid blue hair to deal with. No, it was useless. She was right to want to cancel Christmas. In a way, it seemed Christmas had canceled itself. So be it!

fourteen

By the time he was driving home, Malcolm had heard a brief accounting of life on the home front from his mom. Of course, he wanted to hear the family news about his siblings and their families. Sounded like they were all fairly busy with miscellaneous holiday activities and Christmas programs, his dad finishing up birdhouses, his mom baking up a storm. Pretty much the norm for this time of year. However, he was surprised to hear about Mrs. Bradshaw’s injured hip and even something about blue hair. But maybe there was a blessing in there somehow. Would it help that woman to get over herself and her perfectionist ways and give up her unrealistic expectations of everyone? Or was it beyond hope?

But these musings weren’t what troubled him as he drove into his hometown. He glanced at the dog carrier buckled in the seat next to him. “Good girl, Sadie,” he said gently. “You’re a good traveler.” As he drove into his neighborhood, his mind was on Olivia. She’d probably assumed he’d given up on her. Had he really? Sure, he’d wrestled with himself over the family dilemma, but then he’d gotten so buried in work at the clinic. From cats ingesting pine needles and poinsettias to overweight dogs sneaking into holiday cookie plates, they’d treated more than their normal share of clients. And Dr. Reiner had reminded him there would be lots more coming, considering the way people overindulged their poor animals at Christmastime. His already busy life seemed to be on steroids since he’d adopted poor Sadie. But he’d felt so sorry for the mixed breed pup after it was impossible to save her two littermates and sick mama. A homeless man had rescued them, dropping them at the clinic in a cardboard box. After caring for the surviving pup night and day—and naming her Sadie—Malcolm knew she’d be his for the duration of her life.

As he parked in his parents’ driveway, he wondered how Olivia felt about dogs. He knew he’d neglected her this past week. And he had no doubt she’d noticed it. He’d heard about the weird Christmas cookies she’d dropped at the clinic, but by the time he was back in the office, they’d all been consumed and, according to the receptionist, they tasted better than they looked. He’d meant to send Olivia a little thank-you text, and he’d even tried to write one, but it had sounded so trite and dismissive that he’d canceled before sending. But, seeing her little car parked at her parents’ house, he was assaulted by guilt, realizing this was something he’d need to fix in person. But not yet. He wanted to get Sadie settled in and see his family first.

As usual, his house looked and felt a bit chaotic when he went inside. But this wasn’t the usual type of happy, noisy chaos. Oh, sure, there was the normal messiness of clutter in the living room and brightly colored Christmas decorations. And the dining room was strewn with holiday wrapping paper and ribbons and half-wrapped packages. But as he approached the kitchen, expecting to discover Mom pulling out a sheet of freshly baked cookies, instead of sweetness and spice, his nose was assaulted by a very foul smell. Worse than when the clinic kennels needed a thorough cleaning. Going inside, he saw soggy pink bath towels spread across the floor and his dad flat on his back with his head inside the opened sink cabinet.

“Dad!” He knelt down. “Are you okay?”

Erik slid out, pushing himself to a sitting position on the floor, a wrench in his hand and a frustrated frown on his face.

“What’s up?” Malcolm gave him a hand, helping him to his feet.