Free Holly Blues by Susan Wittig Albert Page B

never comes through. She’s here one day and gone the next.” Another deep breath. “I know that you and Dad are doing your best, but Caitie is still pretty unhappy. I’d hate to see her start depending on my—on Sally. And be let down.” Having delivered himself of this long speech in only two breaths, he stood watching me, a handsome, gangly boy who—sooner than I would like—was going to grow into a handsome, husky man.
    I lifted my hand to his face, remembering how I once had to bend over to touch his cheek and brush his hair out of his eyes, when he was a little boy and I was his father’s girlfriend. His mother had been gone then, too. In fact, his mother had been gone for most of his childhood. It wasn’t—
    He said it for me. “It’s not fair!” he burst out angrily. “I wish she’d stayed away. She’s going to spoil our Christmas, just you wait and see. Look at the way she’s bugging Dad about helping her. She got herself in trouble, and she wants him to bail her out.”
    I dropped my hand. “Please be patient with her,” I said. “Yes, she’s in trouble right now. She’s lost her house and her car and her job and—”
    “So she shows up here, looking for a handout!” he cried. “She doesn’t bother to come when she’s okay, when she’s got money. She only comes when she needs something.”
    “But that’s what family’s for, isn’t it?” I asked reasonably. “To be there for you when you need something?”
    He frowned. “I don’t get this. I thought you didn’t like her.”
    “I’m not sure I do, very much. I wish—” I stopped. There was no point in saying that I wished she’d stayed away, too. “But it’s Christmas, and we need to help one another. And if your mom can help Caitie even a little bit, I’m happy to have her here. I hope you will be, too.” I paused. This might not be the right time to bring it up, but I had to ask sooner or later. I might as well get it over with. “Oh, and we’ll need the keys to your car, Brian. Your mother’s going to use it while she’s here.”
    “My car?” he squawked. “But Sally is a terrible driver. I don’t want her—”
    “Your father and I paid for that car, Brian,” I said firmly, “and we all agreed that he and I would be using it until you start to drive. Your mom needs a car while she’s here. She’s going to drive yours. I’ll tell her to be careful. Okay?”
    He gave me a black look. “I hope I don’t get to say ‘I told you so.’ ” He turned on his heel and left the room.
    I spent the rest of the evening making some Christmas simmer potpourri. I divided it among some small earthenware jars I’d bought from a potter in Wimberley and wrapped them for Ruby, Cass, Laurel, and Sheila. Then I finished a holly wreath I’d started earlier, hung it on the front door, and strung the icicle lights on the porch railing. While I was at it, I got out the boxes of Christmas tree decorations so they’d be handy when we decorated the tree. By the time I finished, it was nine o’clock, and I went to say good night to Caitlin, already in her pink flannel jammies, in her bed with one of her fairy books.
    I sat down on the edge of the bed, noticing a bruise on her forearm. “Where’d that come from, Caitie?” I asked, touching it gently. “Does it hurt?”
    “Not much,” she said, pulling up her sleeve and peering at it. “I got it playing soccer.” She looked up with that smile that always goes straight to my heart. “Did you know that Uncle Mike is going to be one of our soccer coaches?”
    “No, I didn’t know,” I said. “That’s great, Caitie! He’ll be very good.” Privately, I hoped that he wouldn’t yell too much. McQuaid puts all of himself into the game, even when he’s not playing it. He has a tendency to get excited.
    She turned a page of her book. “It’ll be fun to have him there. Most of the other girls’ dads are too busy.”
    “He might not be able to make all the practice