A/N: Oh, hello dear friends! I have missed you so much! (I always say that when I return, don't I)? This is a story I never thought I would finish. I started it at the end of July, so it's taken me about three months to complete. I never try to look at the time when I'm writing because it just makes me impatient with myself when I am eager for something to post! I mourn reviews when I am away and I do an absolutely terrible job of contributing them, because I forget to check the site when I have nothing to post! Not one of my finest attributes, especially when I want the reviews so badly myself!
Anyway, this is the third a series, following "Empty Arms" and "Twin Tailspins." Sweet Ben and Lizzie, who debuted in the last installment following Mary's miscarriage of Jamie, are now five years old and have been joined by a cousin – Brandi's daughter, Holly, aged almost-three. This story definitely explores a new route for me; there is a shakeup with Brandi, who I normally write as naive, but well-meaning. But, I figured if there was ever a story to have her turn a bad corner, this would be the one to do it because of how I wrote her behavior in "Empty Arms" and "Twin Tailspins." We'll see how I do with it! I always liked Brandi, but I know many of my reviewers weren't fond of her, so maybe this will seem realistic to you all!
Anyway – I'm so glad to be back! Hope you enjoy the ride!
XXX
Until she'd had kids, Mary had never really understood Christmas. Of course, she knew it was significant for those who engaged in religious endeavors, but for someone who had been raised Catholic, she'd never really been schooled on the deeper meanings of the holiday. Indeed, in her youth it had seemed to serve as a time to remind her of what she was lacking that other children were not.
She still savored the year Jinx had given her the big wheel and she'd gone tearing around the block in pursuit of freedom. Nothing could top that, and as sweet as it had been, it was also sad in its own way. Mary had not grown up with youngsters who wished to escape their own home on Christmas day. More than happy to leave a newborn Brandi with a mother who was still trying to organize pots and pans in the kitchen from a fresh move, she couldn't fathom sticking around one second longer than she had to.
At six years old, Mary had been unable to register the oddness of her situation. What other kids had to look forward to was immaterial. She was simply comforted by knowing her father had been in his bed on Christmas Eve, even if he hadn't been there when she'd woken up the following morning.
But now, as a mother of two spunky and spirited five-year-olds, she was able to experience Christmas in a way she never had as a little girl. She couldn't imagine Ben and Lizzie wanted to flee the confines of their cramped New Mexico home, even if Ben did receive the navy and crimson racing bike he was hankering for – even if Lizzie obtained the play kitchen she'd seen in a catalog. One momentous gift would only have them diving for more; a single couldn't satisfy them as it had a six-year-old Mary. That was the way she liked it.
And despite her sudden fondness for the holidays, Mary still found herself in awe of all the merriment and decoration being spread all over her house. Right now, the artificial tree Marshall had picked up was bare, but dozens of cardboard boxes lay open on the floor, domed and spherical ornaments glimmering invitingly from the confines. Marshall himself was untangling a line of bright white lights while Lizzie stood ever-so-patiently at his side, waiting for daddy to tell her when to plug them in. Brandi's little one, Holly, was fumbling with a dirty baby doll in one of the armchairs, looking shy among all the action.
"Ben, for the last time…" Mary kicked a box aside as she strode over to the window and yanked her son off the back of the couch where he'd been attempting to climb the drapes like some acrobat. "You're not a cat. You're going to fall off the curtain rod and crack your head open."
Wholly undeterred by his mother's gruesome forecast, Ben squirmed in her grasp, but Mary refused to let him go until she'd said her piece. Apparently, he had a few words to bestow her with as well.
"Who's Ben?" he asked innocently.
Mary sighed loudly, "We're not playing this game."
"I don't see a Ben! I don't know anybody named Ben!"
Unhelpfully, Marshall abandoned unstringing the lights and put his hand over his eyes like a visor, peering scrupulously around the room. Lizzie did not even flinch or become the least bit antsy when he divided his focus.
"No Bens here," Mary's husband proclaimed with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Keep it up, there aren't going to be any Marshalls either," Mary grumped, hitching the boy higher onto her hip.
Predictably, Lizzie was aghast at hearing her mother joking about doing away with her father. Mary barely saw her glassy, cloudless blue eyes widen in fear, like saucers in her smooth-skinned face. She knew Marshall would talk her down, and he didn't disappoint.
"Mama's fooling around, Lizzie Lou," he patted her corkscrew, spring-loaded ponytail, the dark chocolate of her hair gathered into a perfect coil. "We all know she'd be nowhere without yours truly."
Mary hadn't stuck around to listen to this portion of the conversation, because Ben was making a break for the curtains again. Unable to hold him, he dropped onto the sofa with a thump and went clambering up the cushions once more, a cord of tinsel held tight in his clenched fist. His mother only had time to seize him around the ankles, forced to buy into the song and dance her little boy inflicted upon them on an hourly basis.
"Fine-fine…" she lamented, and Ben clearly recognized the defeat in her voice, because he quit struggling and settled himself with a satisfied smirk. "If you're not Ben, then who are you?"
This was met with flexing muscles and a stern brow, "My name is Bullet – defender of the wide open blue!" he even fluffed the bright red superhero cape forever pinned to the back of his T-shirt. "Is there someone who needs saving?"
Without further ado, he snatched the nearest target, which was an unsuspecting Beatrix. As always, she yowled and twisted out of Ben's grasp, scampering across the rug to stand and groom her paws at Lizzie's feet. Ben frowned, but Mary had more important matters to attend to.
"Ben…" he gave her his best look of ignorance and she huffed. "Bullet. I keep telling you to leave Beatrix alone…"
"You mean my attack-cat!"
"Your attack-cat is going to claw your eyes out of you're not careful. You're too rough with her."
Lizzie chose this moment to stoop down and gently caress Beatrix's head, which only pronounced her brother's scowl.
Hair and eyes the exact same shades of brown and blue as his sister's, Ben's mop of brunette was uncombed and a rat's nest all over his round head. Aside from being male and female, they were as identical as it was possible to be, other than the fact that Ben's locks were soft and flyaway, whereas Lizzie's were coarse and serpentine. The boy was also taller and broader than Lizzie, who had been petite since day one.
"I can't rescue all the people in the airplanes if I'm not high enough," Ben rationalized, gesturing over his head at the curtains. "They'll die."
"Be that as it may," Mary ignored his dramatics. "Who's gonna rescue you if you crash over the back of the couch?"
Her son had no answer to this, but it seemed he didn't need one. Fortunately, the real and only rescuer in the house answered the call seamlessly, cutting right through Mary's attempts to make their child see reason.
"Tell you what, spark…" the father had all sorts of corny nicknames for his twins. "Lizzie and I need someone to inspect all these ornaments," he pointed at the boxes at their feet. "They've been locked up in the garage all year and I'm pretty sure there could be some man-eating bugs chomping their way through the glass…"
Ben flew off the sofa in an instant and stuck his nose in the nearest carton while Lizzie continued to look fretful at Marshall's explanation.
"Are there really bugs in there, daddy?" she wanted to know in her high voice. "What if Ben can't find them all and they get out…?"
As Mary passed to check on Holly in the armchair, she felt her daughter reach for her hand. Marshall bent his knees and whispered something in Lizzie's ear, undoubtedly how he was telling a little white lie about the insects so Ben could play pretend. Used to her child's constant worry, Mary was pleased to see her loosen up after sharing secrets with her father and squeezed those tiny fingers before venturing onward to her niece.
Depositing the stray tinsel that Ben had dropped in a nearby container, Mary eyed Holly while the child fiddled with the bonnet on her doll's head. She seemed bored and gloomy when her twin cousins were making such a to-do out of the festivities. Perhaps the fact that Brandi and Jinx weren't around spreading their usual brand of joy, she was feeling left out. Lizzie was very prim and proper, but Holly was infinitely girlier; with her mother and grandmother gone, she was an odd duck.
"What's up, Jolly Holly?" Mary proposed, though she was looking none-too-chipper at the moment. "You want to help Ben look for bugs or…whatever it is that he's scouting?" waving a hand over her shoulder.
Holly, towhead blonde which made her look like the neighborhood kid and not a Shannon-Mann-Alpert, didn't answer her aunt and kept her eyes on the carpet. Brandi had styled her hair in what Mary looked at as an obnoxious boy-cut because the little girl screeched when a brush was pulled through her locks.
At almost three years old, she was hot and cold about everything, but the woman couldn't help hoping her strands grew out soon. She was a very pretty child, but there was no evading that kind of trim in making you look male.
"Wanna go home…" Holly mumbled almost incoherently.
Mary decided she could finesse this a little bit, "Holls, I'm wounded." She recalled that a child of two or three probably would not know what 'wounded' meant and rephrased. "I mean, seriously, that hurts. You don't like hanging out here with your old auntie and uncle?"
Holly just continued to pout, "Mommy's gone."
"Mommy went shopping," Mary corrected, wondering why Brandi hadn't been able to take her daughter along since she doubted the woman was buying anything for said daughter, even with Christmas approaching. "She won't be gone that long. She and Grandma are just picking up a few things."
Though not typically overly affectionate, Mary made a solid stab at getting her niece to open up, extending a hand, but she just wiggled out of the way. She'd never been partial to Mary even though the aunt sometimes felt she spent more time with her and Marshall than she did with her own parents.
"Come decorate the tree," she invited, drawing back. "Marshall and Lizzie need help."
"No tree," Holly bemoaned, stealing covert glances upward to see if Mary was still giving this a go. "The tree's scratchy."
"It's not that bad," Mary insisted, fighting to keep annoyance out of her voice. "If you want, you can pick the ornaments and Lizzie can hang them up if you don't want to touch the tree."
Holly appeared to consider and she was just on the verge of crawling to the edge of the chair and peering at what was going on when a triumphant shout sounded behind them. Mary whirled around to see Ben scurrying across the floor on his belly, hands outstretched in pursuit of something quick that was scuttling from the confines of a box.
"The man-eating bugs!" he bellowed. "I found them!"
Lizzie shrieked and tried to climb up Marshall's leg, settling for clinging to his jeans out of the way of Ben's quest.
"Daddy, you said there were no bugs!"
"I'm sure it's just a spider or something with a few legs," Marshall shot Mary a sheepish look, not having anticipated Ben coming across anything but cobwebs in the boxes. "Ben's on it though, don't worry."
Holly perched on her knees to watch the action, but Ben was taking a step too far for his overprotective mother. How his eyes were sharp enough to still see the pest she would never be able to guess, but he'd hurtled behind the couch in a snap, landing with a loud thump onto the space between fixture and window.
"Ben, I told you to quit jumping off the furniture!" Mary barked.
He paid her no mind, "I've got him! Fear not!" the boy read far too many comic books.
"This is all your fault," Mary pointed a stern finger at Marshall, who was plainly trying to keep from laughing. "If you wouldn't indulge him in this ridiculous superhero nonsense he wouldn't be on the verge of breaking his neck all the time."
Now her husband looked marginally ashamed, but also slightly exasperated, jerking his head at Lizzie below them.
"Mare, be careful about talking like that in front of…" more swiveling of his eyes and his head toward their daughter. "…You know she doesn't like it."
Mary did find it difficult to reign in her sarcasm where Lizzie was concerned; their perpetual worrier, she took everything literally, including Ben believing he could rid the world of evil. Mary honestly didn't know how she would've fared without a brother who managed to convince his sister he was the greatest vanquisher the world had ever seen.
"Get out from back there right now," the woman ordered, not before flashing Marshall a look of understanding at his request. Marching to the couch and pulling him up by his cape, "Forget the damn bugs…"
Lizzie gasped, "Oh, mama said a bad word…"
"She just forgets sometimes," Marshall reminded her. "We'll cut her some slack."
"Help dad untangle the lights," the wife ignored them both, giving Ben her best and most beady stare. "If you chill out now, you can build with the couch cushions after dinner, all right?" she was an expert at bargaining.
And Ben was sold, "Okay!" and he parked himself on the rug, digging through all the decorations for more strands of lights.
Crisis averted, Mary returned to Holly, who seemed to be frozen on the edge of her seat after her cousin's spectacle. Without tentativeness or waiting for approval this time, she scooped her up in one fell swoop, carrying her over to what was going on by the tree. She whined and clawed at Mary's neck, but said nothing else.
"You got a job for this girl?" she inquired of Marshall, who was happy to pause in his mission to fawn over his niece.
"Oh, I think we can scrounge something up," he declared, taking the little one from Mary when she held out her hands; Lizzie shot the pair a jealous look, but stayed quiet. "Which lights do you like better? White or colored?"
Although a reluctant grin had escaped at being with her treasured Uncle Marshall, Holly was still fairly single-minded, "Mommy be back soon?"
He might be as sensitive as they came, but fatherhood had taught Marshall not to cater to homesickness for too long, "Oh, there is no way you can convince me you'd rather go on some boring old shopping trip than break out all the bells and whistles here with us." In an attempt to rile her, he dug his fingers into her sides to make her giggle, "There's that Jolly Holly smile."
"But, I…I…" she gasped between snickers, her nose scrunching up beneath her eyes. Mary couldn't help noticing that Lizzie still would not take her eyes off them, but she stood still as a statue just like she always did. "I…I want mommy…feel…yucky…"
Marshall halted his entertainment, much to Lizzie's delight, "You feel yucky?" he proposed cautiously. "Where? Does your tummy hurt?"
Holly shook her head, her eyes following Beatrix's path on the rug; the animal was taking care to steer clear of Ben, sauntering to hide behind a throw pillow on the couch.
"Well, Uncle Marshall is a seasoned professional when it comes to ill-feeling children," the man declared pompously. "Perhaps it's all in your mind…" he twirled a finger around the side of his face to indicate lunacy.
Pressing the entire body of his little niece against his chest, he laid a kiss to her temple and then rested his free hand on one of her cheeks.
"Hmm…" Mary recognized the genuine surprise in his murmur. "You know…" he was still testing with his fingers before he came to a conclusion. "She does feel a little warm to me, Mare…"
Mary took her turn at examining Holly's flesh and saw immediately that Marshall was right. Her skin was definitely holding heat and under the lamp on the end table, her aunt noticed there were red patches in her cheeks. Feeling slightly guilty now for trying to corral the kid into aiding with Christmas regalia, Mary turned as empathetic as she knew how to be.
"Are you hungry Holls?" she asked, pushing her bangs aside. "Grandma made a batch of cookies earlier; they were supposed to be for after dinner, but do you want some?"
At this, Lizzie could not withhold her usual patience any longer. She tugged on the hem of Mary's shirt, causing the mother to look down into those spacious, swirling cerulean eyes.
"What?"
"Can I have a cookie too?" she advised softly.
"We can all have some," Mary decided. "If it'll make Holly feel better," trivial as it was, she still wanted approval from this girl of Brandi's who had always preferred Marshall.
"I not sick…" the child in question drawled unexpectedly. "I have birthday…"
"Oh, your birthday's not for another twelve days," Marshall assured her breezily. "You'll be more than ready to party by then."
Most children would feel isolated having a birthday so close to Christmas but Holly, born December twenty-sixth, had always reveled in the extra attention Jinx and Brandi gave her, trying to make up for her having landed so near to the holiday. It was her winter birth that had inspired her name. Only Mary's baby sister would title her child, 'Holly Noel Alpert.'
"What do you say to those cookies then?" Marshall urged to get her mind off being unwell for her celebration. "I bet if you're real nice to Lizzie she'll help you reach the jar," he threw his daughter a gentlemanly wink, which seemed to erase her envy in a flash.
"Come on Holly," Lizzie held out her hand sweetly as Marshall slipped his niece onto the floor. "I know where daddy keeps the frosting too…" she whispered stealthily.
Both Mary and Marshall watched them depart for a moment while Ben stayed stationed on the floor. While he seemed to be snarling the lights into worse strands rather than untying the cords, Mary knew it was best to leave him be. Far more of a livewire than his sister, if you could get him sitting down you would be a fool to rouse him.
"Look at us…" Marshall finally sighed reminiscently, throwing his arm around Mary's shoulders. "We should take holiday card pictures while we're at this."
"Count me out," Mary rebutted, shaking her head as she observed Lizzie sliding a chair over to the counter for Holly to stand on. "You know I don't come from matching sweaters and reindeer ears. I think we took a grand total of one photo for the holidays when I was a kid."
"I'd pay to see that," his lips were migrating to her ear now that they had two of the three children mostly occupied, hoping to sneak in a quick kiss. "I'm sure shots of you and Brandi beat the ones I had to endure with my brothers. Sweatshirts reading, 'I deerly love Christmas' with a stitched print of Rudolph only bring up so many fond memories."
Mary couldn't contain the cackling laugh that escaped, "Ha. Puns. Lame," she took a chance at pawing him away, not wanting to be chorused in 'oohs' from the kids if they were caught making out. "A gesture like that in this house would have you in court."
"I promise," Marshall avowed, not about to be deterred in his romantics. "No punny sweatshirts." After Mary had rolled her eyes, "Printed pajamas maybe. Doesn't having twins give us clearance to dress them alike – being male and female notwithstanding?"
"Yeah, and what are we gonna put not-so-Jolly Holly in when the flashes start to go off?" she gestured at the youngest who was waiting for Lizzie to give her a choice of cookies.
"Holly is not our child," Marshall was sometimes forced to remind her of this fact, because Mary often fretted about her welfare by default simply because she was Brandi's daughter.
"Yeah, and you'd never know it since Brandi's always dumping her on our doorstep. You'd think after almost three years of having a kid she'd own up to the responsibility a little bit."
"Give her a break," Marshall encouraged, rubbing her shoulder now. "She does her best. Expressing some kind of confidence your sister's direction could go a long way."
"Confidence about what?" Mary wanted to know, genuinely curious. "If Holly isn't with us, she's with Jinx or Peter."
"He's her father."
"Well, Holly's just lucky he's so on top of it because the way Brandi and Peter have been sparring lately…" she shook her head, not finishing her sentence when Marshall put a finger to his lips, not wanting to touch upon this subject on what had minutes before been a festive afternoon. "I'm just saying…" the woman hissed in an undertone. "If they separate or something Brandi's going to have to step-up…"
"Come on, nothing like that's going to happen," Marshall had faith, something in which Mary had always been deficient. "They're just going through a rough patch. It's tough raising a kid."
Mary was not willing to argue about this facet. Yes, it was hard raising a child – it was even harder raising two at once, and yet she and Marshall had managed and mostly with flying colors. Her husband had to beseech her a little too often that not everyone viewed parenthood the same way as Mary. She had been so relieved, so over-the-moon to become a mother after losing Jamie that she sometimes forgot that others had misgivings and doubts. Brandi's continual lack of self-esteem meant she didn't always see herself as the world's greatest parent.
Instead, the blonde diverted to a new route, "Holly better not be getting sick; we don't need a house full of snot-monsters for the holiday."
"I'm sure she's fine," Marshall declared with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Kids run warm sometimes and Jinx packed her into that heavy sweater. She'll perk up once Brandi comes back."
Only Marshall could get Mary to truly enjoy the festivities that came with Christmas, could make her abandon the pressures of caring for Brandi's child along with their own and, this time, she allowed his kiss to take shape. Closing her eyes and sighing quietly, she felt his lips linger on her cheek before ultimately traveling to her mouth, capturing her own lips in a pillowy, gentle flutter. Mary found herself weaving her arm around his back, deepening their embrace, until their reality descended upon them in a flash.
"Ewwwwwww!" Ben squealed dramatically behind them. "Don't look, don't look!" Mary opened her eyes just long enough to peer over Marshall's shoulder and see her son covering his lids in embarrassment. "They're kissing! Gross!"
Forever amused by Ben, both Lizzie and Holly joined right in, "GROSS!" they screeched in unison, a hesitant smile worming its way onto Holly's bashful face.
Mary's eyes journeyed skyward yet again, but Marshall didn't let go of his woman for a minute, perfectly proud to have been smooching in the middle of a cold December day in the living room.
"You just wait, mister," he said to Ben. "One day you're gonna be kissing girls with the best of 'em."
All this earned him was a splutter and hair flapping side to side, "Never, dad!"
"Yeah dad…" Mary smirked, patting Marshall's bristly cheek, having her own reasons for not wanting to think about the twins being grown-up enough to do anything of the kind. "Never."
XXX
A/N: It starts out sappy, but it sure doesn't stay that way – I can promise you! I would love any feedback you are able to give me! Also wishing my buddy Jayne a very happy birthday; I am so glad I could get this finished in time for your special day!