Page 28 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“Well, she’s off to a brilliant start.” He laughed as he went down the steps with a bucket in each hand. And as he walked back to his house, he felt encouraged. Maybe there was still hope for Olivia and him. That is, if Mrs. Bradshaw could ever get past her unreasonable, irrational, aggravating aversion to and general dislike of his entire family. As if that were even possible.

fifteen

At first Malcolm and even his pup didn’t seem to bother her mother, but after just two days and several puppy puddles that Olivia cleaned up quickly, she knew her mom was like a time bomb about to blow. And so Olivia planned a little meeting with her dad and grandma in the den. So far, the McEntires had been unable to locate a septic service that wasn’t booked until a full week after Christmas. To help them in the duration, they’d even had a porta potty set up in their front yard. They couldn’t put it in back because the company couldn’t get their truck through the small gate. To help it look more festive, Cindy and Erik had decorated the little structure with a blow-up Santa who looked like he was waiting his turn. Jane did not find it amusing.

“Are we ever going to do a proper intervention?” Olivia asked her dad as soon as they gathered in his den.

“Seems like it’s already begun,” he said wryly.

“Yeah, the universe has dealt Jane a whammy of a hand.” Lulu laughed. “I don’t see how we could’ve done a better job.”

“And your mother seems to be managing it,” Dad added. “Why not just let it ride?”

“Because Mom is fuming. Sure, she’s managing to contain it somehow, but I can tell she’s about to explode. And to be honest, I’m getting worried about her physical health. What if she has a stroke or heart attack or something?”

Her dad’s brow furrowed. “She does have elevated blood pressure.”

“I’d hate to think all this could really hurt her. That would be horrible,” Lulu said.

“Pastor Justin offered to help us if we do a real intervention.” Dad counted on his fingers. “It’s only three days until Christmas. I suppose I sort of hoped we’d get past the holiday before confronting her.”

Olivia stood, pacing back and forth in front of the big-screen TV. “But what if we did a loving and honest sort of intervention, and what if Mom really got it? I mean, it’s possible she could see the light. And then we could hold her hand and walk her through learning to let go of things.”

“But she’s been letting go,” Dad persisted.

Lulu nodded. “Life has been forcing her to let go. Well, life and her wheelchair.”

“But it hasn’t been her choice. And from what I’ve read about OCD and other mental health issues, the individual has to make a choice themself. They have to engage and want to change. They need to recognize a need for help and be willing to get that help. Right now, she’s more like a prisoner in her home.” She held up a finger. “In fact, I’ve heard her say that very thing. She said she feels like a POW. And she doesn’t even know what started the war.”

“Good points,” Lulu agreed. “I never had a counseling degree, but back at the commune I was considered the counselor.”

“The commune?” Olivia studied her grandma.

“Oh, it was short-lived. I suppose your mom never mentioned it. Moonbeam was pretty small when Al and I split. She was about three by the time I realized I’d hooked up with a pot-smoking hippie who didn’t believe in work. Anyway, I felt sort of lost, so I joined this free people commune in Northern California. I liked their philosophy—everyone helping everyone, getting back to nature by growing our own food, making candles and baking bread and sewing quilts . . . all that sort of thing. Supposedly there was time to breathe and contemplate and live intentionally on this commune . . . but it seemed we never really had time since there were so many chores to be done just to survive. And it eventually got too woo-woo extreme for me, and I had to take Moonbeam and get out of there.” She chuckled. “But while I was still there, I got known as the counselor since I listened to everyone’s problems and apparently gave good advice. And I finally advised myself to take my little girl and split.”

Olivia nodded. That all made sense in a puzzling sort of way. Her mom had obviously experienced a rather interesting, perhaps frustrating, childhood. And in a weird way, hearing her grandma confessing this much gave her hope. If it was true that disorders sometimes skipped a generation, maybe she’d be more like her grandma than her mom. Or even like her dad, although she was more of a creative type and had never wanted to be an accountant.

“So, what’s the next step?” Lulu asked Dad.

He rubbed his chin. “Well, I think Olivia is right. We should do this properly. I’ll call Justin and see when he has time.” He turned to Olivia. “Do you want to invite Malcolm and his parents to join us? I think their perspective would be good.”

She nodded. “And I’m sure they’d be glad to help.”

“Speaking of help.” Dad stood up. “I think I hear Jane’s bell ringing. I’d better check on her.”

After he left, Lulu looked at Olivia. “How are you doing, honey? Your dad mentioned how you and Malcolm had been getting romantically involved. And although Malcolm is staying here, I’ve barely seen him. It seems all he does here is shower and sleep, and then he leaves Sadie in your care and is gone. I’d hoped to get to know him a bit. But he hasn’t even remained here for a meal. Is he afraid of my cooking?” She winked.

“No. He’s just super busy. First he was helping his dad with their plumbing challenges. Until their tank gets emptied, they’re living like pioneer people. And then he’s been helping Dr. Wheeler, who owns the vet clinic in town. I think he’s testing Malcolm out, perhaps to take him on as an associate.”

Lulu nodded in approval. “So, tell me . . . is it serious between you two?”

Olivia considered her answer. “To be honest, I’m not sure anymore. I mean, I really like him a lot. But you’ve seen how my mom treats his family.”

“I know there’s some kind of history there. I don’t know the full story.”

“The short version is that Cindy doesn’t measure up to Mom’s type A standards. Of course, no one does.”

“Right. It really seemed she was softening up toward Cindy. But it was short-lived. When Cindy was here yesterday to explain why the little outhouse is there and how their family is still coming for Christmas, I was worried Jane was going to throw something at the poor woman.”