The Brink of Destruction

During dinner, Billie managed to handle all the questions that were flying his way with humor and good spirits. In fact, everyone except my grandmother seemed quite taken with him, laughing at his stories and encouraging him to come back for the family reunion in the spring. She, however, sat in frigid silence, taking tiny bites of her food and chewing it to a pulp as she cast occasional withering glances at him.

After the table was cleared, my dad built a roaring fire, tossing in pine cones for the lovely smell and soft hiss they made. The littlest cousins, clutching teddy bears and cherished blankies, huddled on the floor at his feet as he settled into his overstuffed recliner to read them "The Night Before Christmas." Billie and I found a corner by the fireplace, and as he pulled me against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around me, I could feel the warmth from the fire as it crackled and flickered.

The sound of Dad's voice took me back in time, back to when I was small, and he would gather me into his lap to read the same tattered book to Rae and me. I remembered laying my hand on his chest so I could feel his heart beating, and without thinking, I was doing the same with Billie now. It made me feel so safe, so content, that I wished we could stay there in the corner, like a pair of street wise Cinderellas, forever. Across the room, I caught Rae smiling wistfully at me, and I knew we were lost in the same memories.

At last the story was over, and Dad's baritone Santa voice called meaningfully, 'And to all a good night'. One of my uncles made the obligatory dramatic announcement that weather satellites had spotted Santa over western Canada, and my pink-cheeked little cousins nearly trampled each other in their panic to get up and get ready for bed. Tara and a few of the others couldn't resist coming by to hug Billie goodnight, and the grin on his face got a little bigger each time. Finally, only the grownups remained, finishing the last touches for morning and standing back to admire their handiwork.

"Bill, you sleep with one eye open, okay?" Dad asked him with a wry wink. "They'll be down here at two in the morning if you let 'em, and then they'll be waking us up for batteries and asking us to put things together before we've even had a cup of coffee." He grimaced as if the thought of it was just too much to take.

"No problem, Mr. Hayden. I'll hear 'em before they get to the bottom of the stairs and Uncle Billie will tuck them back in safe and sound." Billie stood with his hands jammed into his back pockets, he and my dad looking for the world like two farmers discussing the corn crop.

"Call me Scott," Dad chuckled. "Mr. Hayden is my father. Brenda's getting you a pillow and blanket. Anything else you need?" He stifled a yawn with the back of his hand, clearly exhausted.

"No, thanks, I'll be just fine. The fire feels great, and the sofa looks really comfortable. Thanks so much for having me here--it's nice to be with family tonight."

My mom gathered him into an affectionate hug. "Billie, you are family now, and we're so glad you're here with us." Her fingers couldn't resist twirling the dreadlock that hung over his temple. "You and your little antennas!" she giggled.

As they turned to make their way upstairs, Grandma turned and laid her skeletal hand on my arm. "Come along now, dear, it's time to get to bed." She tugged lightly at my elbow, as if to let me know that she had a firm grip on my leash.

With a gentle twist, I freed my arm from her grasp and took a reflexive step backward. "In a little while, Grandma," I said, not looking at her. She had always intimidated me, making me feel scrutinized and always found lacking, but now she was just irritating. "Billie and I are going to watch a movie and then turn in."

She seemed to weigh her anger at my disobedience against the appearance of making a scene on Christmas Eve, and decided to save her energy for another battle. "Very well, dear, but don't stay up so late that you miss all the fun in the morning."

With a look of impish delight, Billie slung his arm around her thin shoulders and kissed her papery cheek. "We wouldn't dream of it. You sleep well, Grandma Phyllis, and I'll make sure Santa leaves something nice in your stocking!" His cocky grin defied the submissiveness she was so used to commanding.

The pale cheeks colored with barely concealed rage, and her eyes flashed like lightning illuminating dark thunderheads. Her body stiffened, pulling away from him in revulsion. Seeing my mother's expression, she tried to disguise her rudeness by coughing into her fist. She was unaccustomed to being challenged, especially by someone she considered "beneath" her.

"Yes, that would be lovely," she murmured vaguely as she slowly climbed the steps, glancing over her shoulder at him warily. Mom and Dad followed her closely, holding her elbow for support as we watched them disappear.

Alone now in the softly lit den, we could hear the sounds of footsteps above us, whispered "good nights," doors snicking quietly shut. Outside the picture window, fresh snow had begun to drift down onto the blanket that already covered the ground. Further down the valley, the bells of the Methodist church were playing "Silent Night." The tiny lights on the tree were twinkling a rainbow of color against the fragrant green branches.

If Jimmy Stewart had come tapdancing up the fucking front steps, it couldn't have been more perfect.

"Ho ho ho," Billie chuckled, his arms snaking around me. "Now I have you all to myself, and I know just what I'm going to do." His smile was evil personified.

"Is that so?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow. "You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"I am," he said. "I like to think I have a certain...charm."

"Hmmm, I guess I can see it. Scruffy, but still a kind of rough sexiness."

He brightened, his chest puffing out. "Rough sexiness--yeah, I like that! Question is, do you?"
I let a slow, sneaky grin spread across my face. "Oh yes. Oh, hell yes!"

The laughter rumbled deep in his chest. Arms still circling me, he tumbled down into the pillowy sofa, pulling me with him onto his lap. My head nestled in the crook of his elbow, and as he looked down at me, his eyes softened, the color of ocean.

"I have something for you," he said, his other hand squirming into his pocket. He pulled out a flat, square box tied with gold ribbon, which was now crushed and bedraggled. "Sorry for the bow," he apologized. "I couldn't wait until tomorrow morning, and this was...well, just between us."

I searched his face, uncertain what to expect, but he was trying to hold back a grin of satisfaction so big I thought he'd explode. My fingers were trembling as I slipped the ribbon off and lifted the lid. On a fluffy square of cotton lay a bracelet, surrounding a small, folded note.

The bracelet was made of macaroni.

I was totally baffled. Billie's face was a picture of childish delight. "Go ahead, read the note," he said.

"I made this myself, just for you," it read. "But you have a choice. You can keep this heartfelt token of love, or trade it for what's in my other pocket. Choose carefully--you can only keep one!"

He could hardly contain himself. "Well?" he said excitedly.

"It's a lovely bracelet," I said, trying to keep the laughter under control. "But you know how I love a surprise."

"So you want what's in my pocket?" he asked eagerly, his head nodding in anticipation.

Eyeing him suspiciously, I asked, "Am I going to regret this?"

"Jeez, I'm not going to perv on you tonight of all nights! Just reach in and see what you find."

Carefully, I slid two fingers into his jeans pocket. Near the bottom, I felt something metallic, and lifted it out to see what it was.

The diamond was pear-shaped, and in the firelight it sparkled with every color imaginable. Like ice with a heart of flame, it danced and flashed as I turned it.

I realized after a moment that I'd stopped breathing.

"There's one other thing that goes with it," he said. "Look under the cotton."

I lifted the little square, and beneath it lay a shiny brass house key, and looped through it was a key ring in the shape of a heart. "BJA & GHA," the engraving read.

"Mike and I are moving into Bat's house when our lease is up at the end of the month," he said. "I know it's not fancy, but it'll be our home, and I'd love for it to be yours, too."

No coherent thoughts would come to mind. I kept staring at the key ring, trying to comprehend what was happening. My map of the world had just changed completely, and I felt unmoored, drifting into a future I hadn't expected, one that suddenly looked brighter than it had in a long time.

"Now you can give me my present," he said, and his fingers glided along the skin of my cheek, moved through my hair. "Say yes."

I looked helplessly between Billie and the breathtaking ring that lay in the palm of my hand. It felt as if I were standing at the edge of a cliff, ready to jump. But there was no fear, because I knew that Billie was willing to take that jump with me.

"Yes," I whispered, my voice cracking. The pricking of tears made me close my eyes, and I felt his arms pull me closer against his chest as his mouth covered mine. I held him tight, so tight there was no room for doubt or uncertainty between us, and when he broke the kiss, he gazed down into my eyes, his face peaceful and content.

"That's all I need, Genny. Just you. That's all I'll ever need." He brushed the hair away from my face, cradling me gently.

His eyes flicked upward, startled, as I heard the creak of footsteps on the stairs, and as he looked over my shoulder in the direction of the noise, I saw a shadow of guilt pass across his face. My first thought was that Grandma was spying on us, trying to catch us doing something she wouldn't approve of and could bitch about. Then I saw the friendly grin on Billie's face and knew it couldn't be her.

"Tara, aren't you asleep yet?" he asked kindly. "Santa won't come if you aren't in bed, you know."

"I just needed a drink of water," she said shyly, padding into the kitchen in her Happy Bunny slippers. I heard the cabinet door open and shut, then the faucet as she filled her glass.
She was wiping her mouth on her sleeve as she came back into the den and sidled up beside us. Billie patted the sofa cushion, and she sat down beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her blue eyes gazed up at him adoringly, her crush on him plain for all to see.

"Billie, are you and Genny going to get married someday?" she asked innocently.

He looked over at me, brows raised at the irony, and started to chuckle. "I guess you'll have to ask your cousin that one," he replied.

"Tara, if we tell you a secret--a big one--can you keep it safe for us and not tell anyone?" I said, my face as serious as I could manage.

She leaned toward me, as if I were sharing state secrets. "Oh, yes, Genny, I won't tell anyone!"

I showed her the ring, and she squealed with surprise. "Sssshhhh," I whispered, my finger to my lips. "Remember, it's a secret for now. We'll tell everyone later, but for right now it's just between the three of us, okay?"

She nodded solemnly, laying her little hand over her heart. I held out my arms to her, and she climbed into my lap--until I heard a grunt from Billie. "Maybe we'd better not dogpile on him," I told her, setting her down and standing to give her a goodnight hug. "You scoot on up to bed now, and have sweet dreams."

Her arms squeezed hard for such a little girl, and then she reached for Billie, boldly kissing his cheek and then blushing furiously.

"Can I be your flower girl?" she asked, holding his hands.

His whole face crinkled as he smiled back at her. "I can't think of anyone else who would do. Now back to bed!"

She turned and ran up the steps, hair flying behind her, and seconds later I heard a thump as she leaped onto the inflatable bed my mom had prepared.

"So I guess we're committed now, since we have a flower girl?" he teased. "We can't back out or she'll be mad at me!"

I sank back onto his lap, my arms around his neck, pulling him down to me. "What makes you think I'd want to back out?" I said, and for some reason my throat felt tight with the flood of emotion. "Listen, buster, you're stuck with me now."

The fire was dying down, small blue flames licking the tops of the glowing red coals, but the heat seemed to grow as he kissed me. His fingers slid down my arm to lace with mine, and then pulled away as he slid the ring onto my finger.

"Thank you," he murmured against my hair, his arms holding me so close to him I could feel his heart beating against me.

"For what?" I smiled, kissing his chin, his neck, his ear.

"For showing me what it feels like to be happy for the first time in my life."