Page 41 of We Wish You a Messy Christmas

“You know?”

“I have my suspicions that things are getting serious.”

Olivia’s face lit up. “Mom, I love him. I really do love him.”

Jane pursed her lips, determined not to say the wrong thing, to maybe fake it until she could make it. “And do you think he loves you in the same way?”

“I do, Mom. I really do.”

Jane reached for her daughter’s hand. “He seems like a fine young man.”

“Really? Even though he’s a McEntire?”

Jane’s smile felt more genuine now. “I’m beginning to see the McEntires in a new light.”

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Olivia bit her lip. “And it’s not that I think he’s going to—I mean, I’m not trying to rush things—but if Malcolm really does feel like I do, and if he should happen to, well, bring up our future together . . . well, I’d like to think you wouldn’t be too opposed to a marriage. I mean, if it comes to that . . . because if he proposes, I’d like to say yes.”

Jane sighed. “Well, I must admit that planning a wedding with the McEntires might try my patience, but I would do my best.”

Olivia hugged her. “Thank you, Mom. And, really, it’s not like I know this is imminent, but I’d just like to know I had your blessing . . . just in case.”

Jane looked into her daughter’s eyes, and, seeing the sparkle of hope, her heart completely softened toward the young couple. “I really hope you’re right, Olivia. I hope he does propose.”

They hugged again, and then, suspecting Malcolm was out there waiting for Olivia, Jane feigned a yawn and told her daughter goodnight. Olivia turned off the bedside lamp and, as she walked to the door, quietly sang, “I wish you a messy Christmas, I wish you a messy Christmas, I wish you a messy Christmas and a blessed New Year.”

Jane thanked her and chuckled. Then, lying there alone in the dark, she thought, not for the first time, that God really did work in mysterious ways. She silently thanked him for all the messes that had recently come her way, hoping that perhaps they really would pave the way for a blessed new year.

twenty-two

On Christmas morning, Olivia tried not to focus on the way Malcolm had said goodnight on Christmas Eve. In his defense, things had gotten a little crazy in her house. Some of the younger McEntires had insisted that the older generation, primarily their parents and Olivia’s grandmother, call it a night while they lingered in her mom’s kitchen to assist with cleanup. And since Malcolm was among the cleanup crew, Olivia had naturally joined in. Everyone was trying to keep it fairly quiet since it was close to midnight, but the general atmosphere continued to be jovial and fun.

Sadie was out of her doggy crate and was running around the kitchen and nearly getting stepped on when Olivia noticed a puddle on the floor right next to the pup. After gently scolding Sadie, like Malcolm had explained was a necessary step in the process of dog training, she grabbed some paper towels and started to clean it up. Meanwhile, Malcolm’s youngest brother’s new girlfriend scooped up the puppy.

“Poor Sadie,” Kristen cooed in baby talk. “Did mean old Olivia yell at you?”

Olivia started to say something, but instead she waited, hoping that Malcolm would come to her defense. But he was too distracted with joking with his sister as they washed dishes, and so she just listened in aggravation as Kristen overblew the whole thing. And then the silly girl walked the pup over to Malcolm.

“Your poor neglected puppy is being growled at,” she told him in more baby talk. “Poor little Sadie is in danger of getting stepped on or kicked in here.” She sidled up close to him. “Do you want me to take care of her for you, Malcolm? And spare her from this mob?”

He just laughed. “Sure. Thanks. I wouldn’t like to see her injured.”

“But if she was injured, I bet the big, strong vet could fix the little girl right up.” Kristen was clearly flirting now, and maybe Olivia was just tired, but as she tossed the damp paper towel, she was also irritated by the younger girl and her stupid baby talk.

And so she went into the living room, busying herself with straightening things up in there. She knew she was still stewing over Kristen’s juvenile behavior, but she’d really hoped that Malcolm would’ve defended her. Or at least come out to say something to her. After all, she’d simply been doing as he’d told her. She picked a sofa cushion off the floor, plumped it, and set it on the couch.

“Aha,” Malcolm said from behind her in a teasing tone. “I found the perfectionist hard at work.”

She spun around to face him. “I am not a perfectionist.”

He looked surprised. “I was just kidding.”

She bit her lower lip. “I know. But it’s sensitive territory.”

“I guess.” He frowned slightly. “Sorry.”

She thought about explaining herself—that she was only trying to make the house look better in case her mother got up early. After all, she’d already been through a lot, and tomorrow would be another gathering of the Bradshaws and McEntires. Seems like he could appreciate that. But instead, she stood silently.

“I really am sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to step on your toes.”