Page 30 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“But he’s here. And no one even asked me.” Jane narrowed her eyes. “And what about that dog? You might try to hide it, but I know she piddles and who knows what else on my floors when you let her run around. And my living room is starting to smell like a dog. Does she have to be in here?” She glared at the kennel carrier sitting in front of the never-used white stone-faced fireplace. The only other thing on the pristine hearth was a neat stack of birch logs tied with a blue velvet ribbon—for show, not burning.

“Sadie needs to be where I can hear her if she whines. And I haven’t let her roam unsupervised since her last accident,” Olivia said defensively. “And Malcolm showed me how to train her to use potty pads. We’re working on it.” She started to stand. “Maybe I should—”

“No, that’s not the worst part, Olivia.” Jane pursed her lips. “What about Malcolm? How long does he—and that dog—plan to remain in my house?”

Olivia took a deep breath, measuring her words. “Well, Dad said Malcolm and Sadie could stay as long as necessary. And being that the McEntires still don’t have plumbing, it seemed kinder to just have one less person at their house for now. Although their family is still coming into town for Christmas.”

“So I’ve heard.” She leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling with an exasperated expression. “Which I have to say is the most ridiculous thing ever. A houseful of people and no plumbing.” She let out a sarcastic laugh.

“But they love having family there for the holidays.”

“Trust me, I’m aware. But think about it, Olivia, all those people, those kids, that stupid outhouse. It’s unsanitary. Really, it should be illegal. I swear they are turning into the Beverly Hillbillies over there.”

Olivia laughed. “Well, this isn’t exactly Beverly Hills, and the McEntires aren’t enjoying their time without plumbing.” She carefully considered her next sentence. “But as long as we’re on the subject of the McEntires and Christmas, you should probably know that Grandma thought we should invite them to join us for Christmas.” She braced herself.

Jane sat up straight, nostrils literally flaring. “Over my dead body.”

“Hopefully not.” Olivia attempted a calm smile. “Mom, it’s the neighborly thing to do. We just thought—”

“This is my house.”

“It’s Dad’s house too. And I used to think it was mine, but I’m not so sure anymore. Anyway, I know Dad will agree to this idea. He really likes the McEntires. And so do I—and sharing Christmas with them would be a lot of fun. More fun than the usual formal affairs you like to host.” Olivia blinked when, for the first time in her memory, the unthinkable happened. She witnessed her mother using bad language. “Mom!”

“I’m sorry,” Jane snapped. “No, I’m not. I don’t care. This is the most outrageous idea ever! I won’t allow it. I’ll tell your father as soon as he gets back. I swear, Olivia, there is no way on God’s green earth we will invite the McEntires for Christmas.”

Olivia stood, determined to remain calm or at least sound like it. “It’s already a done deal. Grandma’s next door right now, making a plan with Cindy. They’ll share the cooking chores. Cindy is a wonderful cook.” She continued to ramble about what fun they’d have with the children and playing games and singing carols . . . but her mother was fuming. If it were humanly possible, steam would probably be shooting out of her ears by now. But Olivia didn’t care. It was about time her mother learned the world didn’t revolve around her and her obsession with perfection.

“This is not going to happen, Olivia Elizabeth. I will put my foot down.” Jane shook a fist. “I plan to tell Rob to set everyone straight as soon as he gets back. He can just uninvite the McEntires. Because we are not having them for Christmas. And that is that!”

Olivia just nodded. “Okay. Well, unless you need something, I’m going to give Sadie another lesson on her puppy pad.”

Jane’s response was a groan, and before she could make more protests, Olivia left to get the pup set up for a potty lesson by the back door. As she waited for Sadie to do her business, she wondered if her mom was partially right. Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to have their neighbors here after all. It wasn’t as if the holidays could get any worse for the Bradshaws, but what if it spoiled the McEntire family’s Christmas?

sixteen

Shortly after Pastor Justin arrived, followed by Rob and Cindy McEntire, and finally their son Malcolm, Jane grew suspicious. Something weird was going on here. Everyone, including her mother, husband, daughter, and even that blasted little dog, were gathered in her living room. Her living room? That was laughable. With all the cheesy trinkets Lulu had liberally spread about, it no longer felt like her living room. Even when she’d attempted to remove the things within the reach of her wheelchair, it made little difference. In her opinion, Christmas was irredeemably wrecked.

Justin cleared his throat, folded his hands, and looked directly at her. “Jane, we have gathered here for a reason, but first I’d like to open in prayer.” And then he, and the others, all bowed their heads while he prayed. Although she bowed her head, Jane knew she wasn’t really praying, wasn’t even listening. All she could think was that something was going on.

“Well, Jane, you may have guessed by now that this little impromptu gathering is for your benefit.” His smile looked sympathetic and a bit uneasy.

Jane nervously fingered the scarf hiding her blue hair, then shrugged.

“Because we all love you and care about your well-being, both physically and emotionally, we wanted to come together to express our concern.” He glanced around the room. “You know everyone here. Do you believe that they all love you and care about you?”

She felt a hot wave of indignation rising up in her, but she wanted to conceal it. After all, this was her pastor . . . and she had her pride. Well, what was left of it. So she just mutely nodded. But she wondered, did these people truly love her? Or were they just here to torture her?

“Good.” His smile looked more relaxed. “I’ve invited everyone here to speak openly and honestly about what concerns them. And like I just prayed, I hope we all have ears to hear . . . most of all you, Jane.” He glanced at Rob. “Would you like to begin?”

Rob leaned forward in his chair, grasping his hands like he did when he was about to broach a subject she did not want to discuss. “Well, Jane, as you know, I can get frustrated over your perfectionist habits. You know the sort of things I mean. And in the past, I felt like you could hear me, and you would attempt to rein yourself in. But I’ve noticed that over the past, say, ten years, your obsessions have grown. So much that I’m worried for your mental health. Honey, it’s almost like you torment yourself . . . as much as you torment me. And to be totally honest, it worries me. I’m not sure we—and I mean our marriage—can survive too much more of this.”

Jane leaned back now, feeling as if she’d been publicly slapped. She wanted to lash out at him and demand why he would say such a mean thing, but seeing the others all watching with wide eyes, she kept her mouth shut.

“I have to agree with Dad,” Olivia began slowly. “It’s hard to say this, Mom, but having some distance makes me see things more clearly. You are getting worse all the time. So much so that I don’t want to come home anymore. And what makes me really sad is seeing you living in this prison of perfection that you’ve created. When I accidentally broke your Lladró angel, I thought you wanted to kill me. Like that object was more precious to you than I am.” Olivia’s eyes brimmed with tears now, making Jane almost feel guilty. And yet this all seemed so unfair. Like they were ganging up on her. Like their intent was to smear her name. But why? What had she done to deserve this inhumane treatment? Still, she said nothing.

One by one, they went around the room, sans Malcolm, who’d gotten a text on his phone that tore him away from this intimate little gathering of “friends,” but that was neither here nor there to Jane as the remaining people took turns sharing their “helpful” bits and pieces, all aimed like poison darts at their cornered victim. But Jane felt herself getting angrier and angrier—so much so that their honey-coated venomous words floated over her. Like water over a duck’s back, she thought as she closed her eyes, wishing they would all just poof—depart her house and leave her alone with her misery.

“Enough!” she finally shouted. “Why don’t you all just crucify me like they did Jesus? You’ve shamed me and condemned me—why not just finish me off and put me out of my pain.” And now she began to cry. Rob jumped up to put his arms around her, followed by Olivia, but she just shrugged them both off, attempting to wheel herself around, which she wasn’t good at doing, but she wanted to escape to her bedroom, where she planned to lock her door until New Year’s and hopefully starve herself to death.