Broken (Book 1, The Watcher Chronicles, Paranormal Romance), page 13
George looks between Mason and me without saying a word but I see a knowing glint appear in his eyes.
“Well, I’ll let the two of you have your breakfast,” George says, before holding out his hand to Mason again. “Good to meet you, son. I hope to see you around more often. You seem to have a good effect on our Jess.”
I instantly feel my cheeks begin to burn. I chance a look in Mason’s direction and see that he just looks confused by what George has said to him.
“It was a pleasure to meet you too,” Mason replies, choosing not to comment on George’s last statement which only makes me want to go back to bed and bury my head in my pillow again to avoid anymore embarrassment.
“See you tonight, Jess. You know Lynn’ll make us all go caroling later.”
“Ok, George, see you then. And thanks for the food.”
George smiles. “Anytime.”
As Mason closes the door, I turn back towards the kitchen to give my cheeks an opportunity to cool down. When I get there, I see that Mason has been busy and pretty much plundered what little food I had stored in my refrigerator. Sitting on a plate is a beautifully fluffy omelet with bits of ham, cheese, and green onion. I see bacon still sizzling in a pan on the stove and watch as Mason walks over to take the three strips out and blot the excess grease off them with paper towels. He sets them on the plate with the omelet and grabs a glass filled with what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Sit,” he directs, nodding his head to the breakfast table in the room.
I do as instructed without complaint and let Mason serve me the breakfast he worked so hard on.
“I don’t remember having oranges,” I say as he slides the glass of orange juice in front of me.
“You didn’t. I went over to my son’s house and borrowed some from their fridge.”
“Where does your son live?” I ask, taking a sip of the juice.
“Near London. He and Angela live with Allan there.”
“Why do they live with him? I would have thought they would have a home of their own.”
Mason sighs. “It’s an old story. Allan has trouble relating to the outside world as you might have guessed when you first met him.”
“You mean him staying in the glass room when I first arrived?”
“Allan has a compulsive disorder. He’s deathly afraid of germs. You might not know it from looking at him but he’s gotten a lot better than he used to be. Lilly’s helped him overcome a lot of his phobias but he’s been that way for so long I fear it will take years more for him to ever be completely normal again.”
“After he ran all those tests on my blood, he didn’t try to hide away from me when I saw him again. He actually did come out of his glass room.”
“He knew you weren’t a threat anymore. Those tests were for his peace of mind as well as gaining more information about you.”
“It must be terrible living like that, afraid to touch anything or anyone.”
“It’s one reason Jonathan and Angela live with him. It seems to help him gain more control over his problem since he has to deal with their kids too. And you know how messy kids can be.”
“It seems like that would be a nightmare for him.”
“You would think but he seems to enjoy having them around. Plus, Angela was his caretaker for so long I’m not sure she really wants to be away from him anyway. They all seem to get along. So the arrangement works for them.”
Mason walks back to the kitchen area and opens a drawer. He’s soon back with a fork for me to eat with.
“So, you go caroling with your mother, Faison and George every Christmas Eve?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
Mason grins. “Why unfortunately?”
“Faison is one of those people who think they can sing when they really can’t. She gets quite loud which only compounds the effect her voice has on others.”
Mason chuckles. “Have you ever thought about telling her the truth?”
“Oh God no,” I say shaking my head. “She gets really touchy on the subject. We just let her keep thinking she’s the best singer in the world. It’s easier than trying to reason with her. Plus, it’s one of my guilty pleasures because her singing always makes me smile, and cringe, but mostly smile. I know it’s probably wrong not to say something to her so she doesn’t keep embarrassing herself, especially when we go out to karaoke, but I just can’t bring myself to tell her. It would completely break her heart.”
“Karaoke? Do you get up and sing?”
“Only when Faison forces me to,” I laugh. “I’m not much of a singer either.”
Mason looks down at my plate. “You should probably eat that before it gets too cold.”
I do as he advises and he walks out of the room. A minute later he reappears, shrugging back into his suit jacket.
“I should leave now,” he tells me. “I usually spend Christmas Eve and Christmas with Jonathan and Angela. Plus, we’re all supposed to go to Lilly and Brand’s tonight.”
I swallow the bit of egg in my mouth and ask, “So what do you want me to do with the crown?”
“Just keep it for now. It’s safer with you than anyone else. Maybe one of us will receive divine inspiration on what we’re supposed to do with it next.”
I feel a need to think of something, anything, to make Mason stay a little while longer but my mind is a complete blank.
“We normally take off work for Christmas,” he tells me. “So I won’t be back to pick you up for work until next Monday, unless something important comes up between now and then.”
I feel an unfamiliar ache inside my chest as I realize I won’t be seeing Mason again for almost another three days.
“Well, let me know if anything happens,” I say. “Anything at all. Don’t hesitate to call. I’ll have my phone with me all the time.”
I force myself to stop talking. The more I talk the more I sound like a teenage girl trying to give a boy she’s interested in non-subtle hints she wants him to call her.
Mason narrows his eyes on me like he’s trying to figure something out about me.
“I’ll call if anything pops up,” he promises. “Otherwise, just try to enjoy your time with your family. I left the bottle of medicine by your bed just in case. If you start to feel bad again let me know.” A roguish grins appears on his face. “I don’t mind playing doctor.”
I smile. “Thanks for that by the way. I’m sure I wouldn’t be feeling this good if you hadn’t.”
“Glad I could help.”
We stare at each other for a little while; me not wanting him to go so soon and him not seeming in a hurry to phase over to his son’s home.
“I better get going,” he finally says. “Jonathan will start to wonder where I am.”
“Ok.”
He hesitates, and my body aches to reach out and find a way to make him stay a little while longer.
“Merry Christmas,” he says.
“Merry Christmas,” I say.
And he phases away, leaving me alone in a house that seems silent and empty now without him in it.
Chapter 11I quickly eat my breakfast not wanting to stay inside my empty home any longer than I have to. After I wash the dirty dishes, I head over to Mama Lynn’s. I see Faison and John Austin making out in his truck parked in front of Mama Lynn’s house and rap down the side of his charcoal grey Dodge Ram with my fist. I see them both jump apart which makes me laugh.
John Austin steps out of the truck and rushes me like a linebacker, picking me up in the air and twirling me around.
“Merry Christmas almost sister-in-law!”
“John Austin, put me down!” I say as authoritatively as I can through my laughter.
John Austin does as requested but plants a peck on my cheek before letting me go. His tousled brown hair and happy brown eyes tell me he and Faison have been out here for a while necking in his truck. If anyone was like a brother to me it was John Austin. He and Faison had been joined at the hip since we were all seven years old so it was either learn to like him or forever feel like a third wheel when you were around the two of them. I had picked on Faison for saying she knew John Austin was the one for her when she first saw him in second grade but part of that was due to jealousy. She was right. He was the one for her and to have found him at such an early age was a small miracle. I knew within our circle of friends their marriage would stand the test of time no matter what happened. Plus, he knew if he ever hurt her I’d shoot him and bury his body where no one would ever think to look for it. I was a highly trained Watcher agent after all.
“Be here at seven tonight,” I tell him. “You know Mama Lynn likes to go caroling no later than that.”
Faison comes around the truck and is quickly enveloped by John Austin’s loving embrace.
“I wouldn’t miss my baby’s singing for anything,” he says, winking at me before nibbling the side of Faison’s neck, making her giggle.
I just smile because John Austin and I made a pact long ago to never openly discuss Faison’s lack of singing skill to one another in front of her or behind her back. Though we did allow ourselves to give each other meaningful glances on the subject every once in a while.
I lean forward and grab one of Faison’s hands. “Come on, we gotta go deliver those cookies to people.”
Faison quickly gives John Austin one more lingering kiss on the lips before allowing me to drag her into Mama Lynn’s house.
“Mason came to my house last night,” I tell her as we make our way up the sidewalk. “I thought you were going to call to let him know I was sick?”
“Oh I’m sorry. I completely forgot to do that.” Faison’s tone tells me she’s anything but sorry. “So, what happened?”
I tell her.
“Oh my God, he stayed the night? Yep, he likes you.”
I shake my head. “I had him trapped. He didn’t have much choice about staying.”
“You weigh about a hundred and twenty pounds Jess. If Mason had wanted to leave, he could have. Stop trying to rationalize things. Now we know for sure he likes you. The only question is do you like him?”
I didn’t answer Faison. I was pretty sure the grin on my face said it all.
It ends up taking most of the day to deliver all the tins of cookies we have. It wasn’t a matter of how many cookies we had to deliver as much as it was the time we spent visiting with each of our friends in the neighborhood. In the South, if you didn’t come in and sit for at least a cup of coffee or something sweet to eat, you were considered rude. Many of the people in our community are old and don’t have much family left to visit with them during the holidays. Making sure those people feel like they are still important to us is the best gift we can give them.
It isn’t until almost five that evening that we reach our final destination, Vern and Sadie’s farm. Vern is outside placing the harness around their mule’s neck to pull the old doctor buggy style carriage they own.
“Hey there, Vern,” Mama Lynn calls out as we walk up into their yard.
Vern and Sadie live on the outskirts of town which allows them to keep their farm animals in their front yard if they so choose. They do have a rusty old tin barn in the backyard but they were never ones to force their animals to stay in it if they didn’t want to.
“Hey now, Lynn, girls. I hope those are your cookies in that tin,” Vern says with a gap toothed grin.
“You know it is,” Mama Lynn replies. “You takin’ Odalie to the cemetery?”
Vern pats Odalie’s neck. “Yep. It’s that time again.”
I hear the screen door of their old farm house squeak and see Sadie walk out wrapping a red knitted scarf around her neck.
She smiles when she sees us and I notice a small brown paper bag in the shape of a bottle peeking out of her coat pocket.
“Hey there,” she says coming to stand with us.
“Merry Christmas, Sadie.” Mama Lynn hands Sadie the Santa Claus tin. “Maybe you can share one with Jamie.”
Sadie smiles sadly and nods her head. I see her eyes glaze with unshed tears before she hugs Mama Lynn tightly.
“You know how much he used to love them,” Sadie says. “Thank you.”
“Well, we’ll let you two go say hi to him. Ya’ll have a good Christmas.”
As we wave good bye and walk back to the car, I see Vern wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.
Almost ten years ago, Vern and Sadie lost their one and only child, Jamie, to cancer. He’d struggled with it all his life and his body simply gave out one Christmas morning. Now, every year Vern and Sadie ride over to the cemetery to say merry Christmas to their son allowing Odalie to drive them over. By not driving a motorized vehicle, they give themselves the freedom to imbibe in the liquid courage sitting comfortably in Sadie’s pocket.
A little before seven that evening George and John Austin make it over to Mama Lynn’s for our annual caroling extravaganza. Each year, Mama Lynn chooses a theme for us and this year she chose to make us all wear light up reindeer antlers on top of our heads. Only poor George is forced into wearing a light up red nose too. We all knew that it was only our undying love for Mama Lynn which would willingly make us debase ourselves in front of our friends and neighbors.
As we walk around the neighborhood, singing Christmas carols and carrying our flashlights, people come out of their homes to thank us for stopping by and wish us a Merry Christmas. When we reach Beau’s home, I almost bust out laughing because his whole family is wearing Santa Claus ear muffs. Since it’s not that cold outside, I can only assume Beau bought them to muffle the high pitched screech of Faison’s falsetto singing voice. Beau winks at me in a conspiratorial manner when we turn to leave, and I force myself not to laugh.
When we get back to Mama Lynn’s house, we all drink some spiked egg nog and eat the snack trays Mama Lynn prepared for us, a tradition we were all used to and one we wouldn’t let her get away with not doing. We play Pictionary until almost midnight before sleep calls our names. When I lay down in my old bedroom, my thoughts drift of their own accord to Mason. I lay there wondering what he is doing at that exact moment. I hug the pillow on the other side of the bed close to my body and drift off to sleep.
The next morning I’m rudely woken up by a crazy woman shaking me half to death. I open one eye and see Faison standing over me.
“Stop,” I tell her, my voice deadly serious.
“Get up!” Faison says, continuing to shake me. “Santa Claus came to see you last night!”
I turn my head away from her hoping she gets the hint. “There is no Santa Claus, Faison. But there is something called sleep.”
I suddenly find myself without any covers which makes me sit up in bed so I can glare at Faison.
With a sheepish grin, knowing she might have gone too far, she drops the sheet and comforter in her hands to the floor.
“Please, Jess. I’m not joking. Santa Clause came to see you last night. Come on!”
Before I know it she’s pulling on my arm to get me out of bed.
“Ok, ok, ok,” I say. “I’m up. You don’t have to pull my arm out of its socket.”
Like an excited four year old, Faison rushes out of the room ahead of me and bounds down the stairs. I stifle a yawn as I slowly make my way to the first floor. Half way down the staircase, my eyes are drawn to a large mound of silky material, landing somewhere in the color spectrum between royal purple and periwinkle. It’s one of the most gorgeous colors I’ve ever seen.
As I make it to the bottom of the stairs, I see Mama Lynn sipping on a cup of coffee staring at the dress and Faison emphatically waving me over.
“Come on,” she urges me. “Read the note!”
I walk over and see that the mound of silk I saw from up the stairs is a stunningly beautiful dress, something you would only see on TV in a fancy party sequence. The ruching of the organza skirt would be enough to give the gown a rich design but when added with the thicker silk comprising the inner front skirt and crystal bejeweled bodice, I feel my breath being taken away by just the beauty of the dress.
“Read the note!” Faison almost screams at me.
I look at the small table beside the chair where the dress lays and see a delicate masquerade ball mask. Its base color is silver but it has gold accents around the eyes. A light coat of a deep red glitter accentuates the curves and crevices of the mask and glittering crystal clear jewels matching those found on the dress dance in the light of the morning sun streaming through the window.
A folded white note stands behind the mask. On the front of it is my name, Jessica, spelled out in curvy gold filigree writing. I reach for the note and look inside it.
I know I’m a little late but hope you will forgive me. The dress doesn’t match exactly but I hope you like it and have somewhere to wear it soon.
Love,
Santa Claus
“So, what does it say?” Faison asks.
I hand her the note as I look back at the dress.
Faison reads the note quickly. “Maybe you should open the gift too,” she suggests, handing me back the note. “That must be what he’s talking about with the matching thing.”
“What gift?” I ask.
“The one sitting under the tree,” Mama Lynn points to a box with her pinky finger as she takes another sip of her coffee, watching me carefully.
I look under the tree and see a glittery gold box a little bigger than a shoe box with a silky white ribbon wrapped around it, tied into an intricate bow.
I pull the present out and stare at it for a moment. I slowly pull one end of the bow and it collapses easily away from the box onto the floor. When I lift the lid, I feel the sting of tears burn my eyes before they fall freely down my cheeks.
Faison and Mama Lynn come to stand beside me and peer inside the box.
“Oh my God,” Mama Lynn says, “is that what I think it is?”
“How did he even find one?” Faison asks. “They stopped making those things years ago.”
Gently, I pull out the Rebecca American Girl doll I wanted the Christmas my parents were taken through the Tear. She’s dressed in a pink and blue masquerade ball gown complete with mask, gloves and fairy wings.
