So, here we sit and gaze at the abundance of food spread out before us.

"My God, Mama, you’ve outdone yourself!" Robie exclaims.

"Qui t’a dit," she chastises.

"Yeah, watch your language, Robie." I snicker and am surprised when both Rene and Kels slap my arm, one on each side.

Papa clears his throat. "Speaking of the Lord," he intones. He holds out his hands and soon all of us have linked hands around the table.

Kels has the softest hands.

Stop it.

"Lord, we thank you for this day to reflect. We thank you for this family that makes us strong. We thank you for the new members of the family, and how you bless us with new ones. We thank you for this food and all the hands that prepared it. And help us to have the strength to do the right. Teach us to pray, as you taught your disciples, saying …"

We finish up with the Lord’s prayer and we all cross ourselves, including Kelsey. I haven’t the heart to tell her she did it backwards. Lord knows, I’ve done it that way more than a few times myself, and I was raised Catholic. Of course, I was normally hung over those times, but I’ll credit hers to nerves and lack of practice.

I miss holding her hand.

Argh!


* * *

I watch her as I lean against the doorframe.

She is sitting on the living room floor with her long legs stretched out in front of her, surrounded by the youngest grandchildren. I now recognize them as Christian (Robie and Rene’s oldest son), Thomas and Caitlin (Jean and Elaine’s two year old twins), T-Jean and Anthony (kindergartners belonging to Gerrard and Katherine and Jean and Elaine respectively). And, of course, Clark is cuddled in her arms.

I smile, watching her tickle them and run her fingers through their hair paying attention to each one, redistributing toys as necessary. They all seem to run to her the second she sits down and she loves every minute of it.

I look around the living room and it’s no wonder. Her brothers and their wives, her mother and father, are all here together for the holidays and happy. Suddenly I feel a huge lump in my throat and I need to get away for a minute.

Making my way to the verandah, I take a seat on the porch swing. I curl my legs under me and I stare at the sweat running down the side of my iced tea glass.

I trail my finger over the glass’ surface. I can see the path I clear and then the path closes and you can never tell I was there. Kinda like my childhood. I snort at the thought and bring the glass to my lips.

"Hey, Little Roo?"

I turn my head to find her standing on the porch with me. I hadn’t even heard her approach.

"You okay?"

I nod without answering, then smile as Danielle (Gerrard and Katherine’s eight-year-old) bounces over to Harper. She hunches down to eye level and gives the little girl a hug and a kiss. "Tante Harper needs to talk to her friend for a sec. Can I catch up to you in a bit?"

"Sure."

"Cool. I’ll be in soon."

And with that the child runs back into the house calling to her grandmother, "Tante Harper is on the porch with her new girlfriend".

Harper rolls her eyes and turns to me with a smile and a shrug. "I’m sorry about that. She’s been trained that partner equals girlfriend. She’s a bit confused."

"It’s okay." I reassure her. I can’t help it when I see her like this. She is happy and relaxed here. "Is it always like this around here during the holidays?"

"This?" She lifts her brows as she juts her thumb over her shoulders. "Ah, this is nothing. You should be glad the rest of the extended family didn’t come over. Then it’s a real zoo."

I really want to cry. I fight back the tears and shake my head. "Amazing, just amazing." I know my voice is breaking, but can’t help it.

"Hey!" Before I know it she is kneeling in front of me, taking one of my hands in her own and rubbing it. "What’s wrong, Kels? Please tell me."

I shake my head and note that my hands are trembling for some reason. "It’s silly."

She takes the glass from my hand and places it on the ground. "You’re on the verge of tears. Whatever it is, it’s not silly."

I look down at her and I see real concern reflected back at me in her impossibly blue eyes. I can feel the tears pooling again and I know I can’t let them fall. I catch them on the tips of my fingers before they have the chance. Running my hand over the surface of my slacks, they are gone.

Harper’s voice is soft and caring. "Please?" She settles herself cross-legged on the floor in front of me. She runs her thumb over the back of my hand. I can tell she’s not going to let this issue go. Why should she? I’m probably ruining her holiday with her family.

"You know, maybe I should just fly back to LA tonight," I offer softly.

"Oh no, you can’t do that. My Mama would never forgive us."

"Us?"

"Yup, because if you go, I go."

I laugh a little as a tear finally slides down my cheek. "You’re nuts."

"Some reporter you are if you’re just figuring that out." She reaches up and wipes the tear away, palming my cheek as she does. "Please tell me," she gently urges again.

I take a deep breath and look at her. "You’re gonna hate it."

"I know. But I need to hear it and you need to say it."

"I’m just so overwhelmed by all this." I gesture to the house. "I mean if there is a total opposite for the way I was raised, this is it."

Her hand drops away from my cheek to rest on my leg. I miss it on my cheek.

"I come from a very affluent family as well. However, my Mother and Father are … well, just that, my Mother and Father, not mama and papa or even mom and dad. Mother and Father, always. I’m an only child. Thank God. I would have hated for another child to have lived like that. The fact that I was also a girl was bad for my Father’s ego, you know. His only child wasn’t a proper heir."

"Because you were born a girl." It’s a statement not a question.

"I spent my very early years with nurses and nannies. They were good to me but Mother always found something wrong with them. They never lasted long. Personally, I think that the second she saw I was getting attached to one, she’d fire her."

I can really tell I’m gonna lose it. Part of me wants to stop as I blink back the tears. A gentle squeeze to my leg, however, gives me the courage to say things I’ve never said to anyone. Not even Erik.

"Then, when I got old enough, I was given a tour of the best boarding schools in the world. Again always being transferred when I began making friends and getting attached to teachers or some other adult. If I spoke of anyone too often, I’d soon be leaving one school for another. My Mother said it was so I would have a well rounded education."

Harper hands me my iced tea and I take a sip to wet my now very dry mouth.

"I was always brought home for the major holidays. This was so I could be shown off to all their friends and business associates. Then, while they had a wonderful time at their dinner parties, I was taken to my room where I would have dinner, watching TV or maybe reading a book. Always by myself. That’s how I’ve always spent Thanksgiving. Movies and popcorn aren’t new to me."

"Oh God, Kels." She gets up and joins me on the swing, her arms sliding around me, pulling me tight against her chest.

The tears come again. I begin sniffing to try to get myself under control. I feel safer with her arms around me. It’s easier to talk. "Christmas time was always my favorite though," I offer with a slight smile.

"Christmas was better?" her voice is low in my ear.

I give a little nod. I let the tears fall unabated against her shirt as I remember the one person who made Christmas special for me. "On Christmas Eve, when they were at their dinner party, I would sneak down to the kitchen. Martha, our cook, always baked Christmas cookies just for me. They’d be in the shape of toy soldiers and ballerinas.

"We would eat them together and drink great big glasses of fresh milk. I wasn’t allowed whole milk as a child. Mother said it would make me fat, but, on Christmas, I always got hot cookies and cold milk. Martha and I would talk until the party started to break up. Then she would take me back upstairs and tuck me in with a kiss. She always left me with a little present for Christmas morning, too. It was always the first one I opened, and the only one I ever kept. I never told my parents because I knew if I did, they’d get rid her. I didn’t want to lose the only person who seemed to care about me."

When I look up at Harper, there are tears streaking down her cheeks.

"Oh God, Harper, I’m sorry." I wipe them away. "I am so sorry. I’m ruining your holiday with this."

"No," she says forcefully. "No, you’re not. You are actually reminding me of how much I do have to be thankful for."

"Imagine that. Me, helping you, during the holidays."

"And, Kels," she whispers, staring at me intensely.

"What?" I breathe, taking in the scent of her, my emotions all in a whirl.

"You now have someone else who cares for you. Both on the holidays and off."

And then she kisses me. I’m surprised, but oh so very happy with this turn of events. God, it feels so right. Her lips are soft and moving against mine. It’s not demanding, but it’s certainly not just a friendly kiss.

I feel my arms move around her shoulders of their own volition. And when one of her hands cups my neck and pulls me even closer, I almost forget what we’ve been talking about for the last few minutes.

We break for air, but don’t move very far from one another. I can still taste her on my lips, mingled with the salt of my tears, and I want more of her.

Just as I am about to go back for a second helping, we hear Danielle’s voice from the open doorway. "Grandmaman! Tante Harper is kissing her girlfriend on the porch swing!"

Just when I was beginning to like kids.

<fade out>




Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:

<voiceover>

Not all relationships are easy. Some start off on the wrong foot.

<cut to>

"I hear she’s a bitch on wheels," Conrad speaks up. "The whole news room hates to work with her. They fight over who has to do her stories and promos. The makeup lady dreads that part of her day."

"Yeah," Jimmy agrees. "I hear the same. Why did we have to get the bitch, Harper? That Samantha woman seems like a better bet."

"Every team needs a problem child." I shrug. "And we all know it ain’t one of us," I drawl softly, pleased with myself. It isn’t until that moment that I turn around to face the room.

Wouldn’t you know Kelsey Stanton is standing in the doorway? Her expression is frozen, her green eyes shuttered. She’s a woman used to hiding her emotions.

"Speak of the devil," I say to let the boys know she’s there.

<voiceover>

And stay there.

<cut to>

"Then it wasn’t making love, Harper. It was sex." I lean back in my chair and set my tea cup down. I hate how composed she looks. How it seems like none of this matters to her. I want her to feel as badly as I do. "You know sex. You’ve had lots of it."

Puzzled blue eyes meet mine. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Harper, the first time I laid eyes on you, you were practically fucking a woman on the seat of your motorcycle."

<voiceover>

But, sometimes, things do get better.

<cut to>

"Come here," I say, even as I take her into my arms. She hugs me readily. Our boundaries are forgotten in the midst of crisis, as per standard operating procedure with us. I enfold her in a strong embrace, rocking her gently, whispering calming words.

<voiceover>

And better.

<cut to>

And then she kisses me. I’m surprised, but oh so very happy with this turn of events. God, it feels so right. Her lips are soft and moving against mine. It’s not demanding, but it’s certainly not just a friendly kiss.

I feel my arms move around her shoulders of their own volition. And when one of her hands cups my neck and pulls me even closer, I almost forget what we’ve been talking about for the last few minutes.

We break for air, but don’t move very far from one another. I can still taste her on my lips, mingled with the salt of my tears, and I want more of her.