Chapter 3
The rotary phone's ring interrupted Henry's thoughts. He wove around the furniture until he reached the end table where the phone sat. The caller shouldn't be Lucas, Mike, or Lt. Reece. Their bosses had given them the holiday off, and both Lt. Reece and Lucas were hosting their out-of-state relatives this year. Hopefully, it wasn't Adam attempting to ruin the night. He should have moved indoors already or had traveled to a warmer climate days before the storm.
Curious about the caller, Henry picked it up. "Hello?"
He listened as a recording relayed a message from the city. He inhaled and knitted his eyebrows together in concern as he hung up.
"What is it?"
Jo's question prompted him to lay his eyes on her. "The city has ordered everyone off the streets now as a result of the increased snowfall."
"What?"
They and Abe walked over to the living room's windows and peered out at the street. The heavy snowfall now dimmed the street lights. Several mounds of snow had appeared where cars had been just a couple of hours before. Fortuitously, no one attempted to brave the deteriorating conditions.
Henry reached into his pocket to check the time, but his pocket watch wasn't there. He glanced down at his clothes. Nuts! His watch and his waistcoat were both in his bedroom.
"I should change." He turned around and started to go to his bedroom.
Jo stepped in front of him, placed her hand on his chest, and smiled. "Don't."
He gazed into her eyes. As every speck of color held his attention, he momentarily forgot where his bedroom was or why he had wanted to go there. All that mattered was her.
The aromas of the various hot dishes brought him back to his senses. He glanced down at her clothes and back up at her. He would be overdressed tonight if he wore his waistcoat. In any case, formality didn't matter. Jo had seen him in informal attire during and immediately following their first case, and she was one of only three people—the other two being Abigail and Abe—around whom he had felt comfortable while wearing it.
One corner of his mouth raised up. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking."
Jo smiled. Then, she suddenly became distracted and dropped the hand that was on him. After a moment, she closed her eyes.
"Nuts!" She opened her eyes. "I left my cell phone in the bathroom." She eased around him and rushed through the room.
As Henry watched her leave, his thoughts briefly migrated to his and Jo's workload after the storm. She and Mike would be called to any suspicious deaths that had occurred while everybody stayed indoors. Meanwhile, he would be busy presiding over the autopsies of those who had lost their lives in the blizzard's aftermath. Winter always portrayed itself as a season of death in spite of man's best efforts to fend it off with vaccines, a migration to a warmer environment, or increased vigilant care for those who were the most vulnerable. Yet, the serene, snowy sight hid winter's dangers from everyone—including him. It could be a while before he and Jo would have any time to themselves again.
The mistletoe caught Henry's eye. He pushed the thoughts about work out of his mind. Tonight, he, Abe, and Jo were to take their minds off of the outside world and focus on each other. Work could wait until after the blizzard had passed.
He looked around the room and then at the tree standing in the corner between the fireplace and the doors. Everything now appeared perfect. He noted every detail so that they could decorate the apartment the same way in the future.
His thoughts returned to the moments before his and Jo's interruption. Inserting his hands into his pockets, Henry turned to Abe. "I think that we might have a new owner for the ornaments that you had found."
Abe's eyes lit up. "Really? Who?"
"Us."
Abe's mouth dropped open, and he scrutinized the older Morgan. He opened and closed his mouth several times.
He then put a hand on one hip. "Who are you, and what did you do with Henry Morgan?"
Henry softly chuckled as he reveled in his newfound enjoyment of the season. "I'm serious. We haven't found an owner for them yet." He briefly removed one hand from his pocket and raised a finger into the air. "You can't blame me for the lack of sale as I had no prior attachment to them."
"I didn't say anything!"
Henry ignored his son's protest and paced along the front of the sofa. "Anyway, it would be nice to decorate the apartment for the holidays again. As we never had any ornaments, I think that it's time that we had acquired some."
Before Abe could respond, Jo's footsteps announced her arrival. Henry peered out the doors and saw her coming toward the men.
She triumphantly waved the device as she marched into the room. "Sorry about that." She set the phone down on the coffee table and looked at him. "I hope that you don't mind, but I found a bowl and used it to soak my blouse and pants."
A bowl? The same bowl that he used when he shaved his beard?
He gazed at Jo. It was impossible to become angry or upset with her. As it was her first time spending the night while sober, she had no way of knowing its purpose. Even if she did, her need for clean clothes was a higher priority than any childish assertion of his possession of the object.
"That's alright. We can wash them before you leave."
Jo wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion.
Abe quickly joined them. "We just got a washer and dryer and put them in the basement. Pops and I have been arguing about it—."
"We've been discussing it—."
Abe glared at him. "We've been talking about it for a while."
"Abraham! We've been discussing it for over 20 years!"
"Anyway, I don't know what had happened." Abe pointed at him. "But he finally agreed to it."
Jo crossed her arms and stared at Henry.
The truth must be told now. "During the Glenn Atkins case a few weeks ago, Lucas and I had spilled some sulfuric acid and ammonium hydroxide on the floor while running a qualitative inorganic analysis on the chemical samples that I was allowed to take home. We—."
Abe gaped. "Was this when you two had skunked the basement?"
Henry glowered at him. "I wouldn't call the incident that." At the time, though, the odor had reminded him of a skunk that he had encountered near the site of one of his awakenings years ago. Henry inhaled. "After loaning Lucas some clean clothes that, unfortunately, didn't fit him, we took the towels that we had used to clean up the chemicals and our malodorous clothes to the laundromat."
Jo nodded and bit her lower lip as she imagined their fellow customers' stares, wrinkled noses, impatience with the speed of the machines, and rapid movement toward the exits.
"After that, I decided that it would be prudent if we purchased the machines. That way, no one else would be affected by any of my experiments. I still dry clean my suits, but everything else can be laundered at home."
Jo uncrossed her arms. "Are you sure about this?"
As Henry felt her eyes search his, he knew what she was really asking. This would be the first time that he had washed a woman's dirty clothes since Abigail had left him and Abe. If Jo had needed the chore done at the onset of their relationship, he wouldn't have been able to bring himself to mention it. Now, since he knew the truth about Abigail's disappearance, he felt liberated to extend the offer to Jo.
"Yes, I'm sure." Henry softly chuckled. "We might be a little out of practice, but we'll survive."
Jo grinned. "I'm sure you'll do fine."
Just as the tantalizing smells caused Henry's stomach to growl, Abe looked at the clock. "Hey, Pops, if you want to uphold tradition…"
Henry followed Abe's gaze. It was already 7 PM.
"Shall we?" He motioned toward the door.
As Henry joined Jo, Abe followed closely behind him. "I know it's still early to talk about it, but, Jo, you could stay in the guest room tonight."
"No!" Henry was surprised by his and Jo's simultaneous response.
Henry peered at Abe as the younger Morgan joined his side. "During a traditional courtship, unmarried men and women were required to be separated—" he moved his hands apart "—at the end of the evening as to protect a woman's innocence, honor, and reputation. Since our guest bedroom is in the same part of the apartment as our personal bedrooms, it is a completely unacceptable place for her to sleep."
Jo walked up to the chair where he usually sat and stood behind it. "Besides, I've slept on the sofa before, and the idea doesn't bother me."
Henry lowered his eyes to the ground. The first time that she had spent the night with them, he had carried her upstairs and laid her on the sofa so she could sleep off her drunken stupor that had its origins in memories of Sean's death. Her overnight stays had happened a couple of additional times since then, and Henry had repeated his actions from that first night both times.
He looked back at her and smiled at her relaxed state tonight. This would be the first time that she would spend the night and would remember what happened the next morning.
He pulled out his chair and motioned for her to sit in it. Something about the gesture felt so right.
Her eyes met his as she sat. "Thank you."
As she gazed into his eyes, his words suddenly failed him. To express his pleasure in serving her, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.
"No PDAs in front of the kid!"
Henry pulled away, turned to Abe, and glared at him. PDAs? Are those the personal digital assistants that I've read about in the business and technology sections of the newspaper in the 1990s?
Beside him, he heard Jo laugh. "Seriously? You're grossed out by that?"
To answer my question, apparently not.
"No. I'm just giving Methuselah a hard time." He chuckled. "I'm thrilled that you might become a part of our family—."
Become a part of our family. Abe's comment stunned Henry. For over thirty years, his family had consisted of only him and Abe. He knew that his and Jo's courtship was to determine if they were compatible for marriage, but he had never considered her as family before.
Henry walked around to Abe's usual seat, sat down, and examined the table. The eight dishes and the wine on the table made him wonder how he had survived a twelve-course, or even a twenty-course, meal with generous portions in his youth.
"Hmm." Jo's voice caught Henry's attention. "Everything looks good." She pushed a few loose strains of hair behind her ear before opening her napkin. "It reminds me of my family's usual dinners."
Her comparison immediately loosened Henry's tongue. "What was Christmas like when you were younger?"
"It was a typical American Christmas. We had a tree in our living room, and we put gifts under it to open on Christmas Day. My brother, sister, and I watched every Christmas special on TV that we could. Mom would cook a meal much like this one." She nodded to the plates of turkey, stuffing, gravy, roasted potatoes, roasted carrots, brussels sprouts, trifle, and apple pie.
Abe narrowed his eyes in confusion. "I thought—." East 116th Street was a historic Puerto Rican neighborhood. Although the area had received immigrants from Mexico and South America in recent years, there were a considerable number of people with ties to the American commonwealth. Most long-time residents of Puerto Rican heritage still enjoyed the traditions, customs, and food of the island.
"When I was five, my great-grandmother Torres visited us from the Island during the holidays. It was a disaster. She insisted that we all used Spanish at home, even thought my siblings and I didn't know the language at the time. She chewed out my parents for cooking a pavochón, roasted turkey, and mostly American dishes instead of lechón asado, roasted pork, and the more traditional ones. She complained about the lack of parrandas, unexpected Christmas caroling, in our building. She even made my brother, sister, and me wait until Epiphany before we received our gifts. We should have enjoyed learning more about our heritage, but her attitude made us wish that we never celebrated Christmas at all."
Jo sighed. "Afterward, my parents decided that they would never have another traditional celebration. We kept the desserts, the coquito—eggnog made from coconut milk and rum—and the salsa dancing, but we generally celebrated like almost everyone else."
"Salsa dancing?"
"You've never salsa danced." That was a statement—and a very accurate observation at that. She leaned forward. "Tell you what. I'll teach you to salsa dance, and you teach me one of the dances from your teen years."
"I think that I could do that." He smiled at her. "Aside from the desserts, what is different about your meals?"
"We don't have brussels sprouts, but I'm willing to try at least one." She took the plate with the mentioned food and scooped a small portion for herself.
"Brussels sprouts are something that Abe and I usually eat when we have a craving for them. To our surprise, it's considered a traditional seasonal food in England these days."
Jo stared at him like she would when interrogating a suspect. "To our surprise?"
Henry inhaled. "This is our first Christmas celebration. I remember the decorations from my youth, but we had to research the meal."
Jo gaped as Abe nodded in confirmation. "What?"
Henry momentarily closed his eyes to steady his emotions. "Father died just before the season's start in 1813, and Nora and I ceased all social activities in accordance to the mourning etiquette of the day. 1814 would had been our first time hosting the festivities, but, as you know, it never happened. Since my first death, I never celebrated the holiday, not even when Abigail was with us."
Jo nodded as he passed her the gravy.
Abe glanced at her. "Of course, I grew up thinking that the day was fairly normal. It wasn't until I had become an adult when I discovered the holiday."
She mulled their story as she passed them two more dishes. She then eyed the room. "It doesn't look like this is your first one. Not bad for a pair of old guys."
Her playful smile at him simultaneously halted any offense from developing and stirred him. He returned her smile and glanced at his plate to control his urges.
They finished plating their food and began to eat. After a while, Jo suddenly pinched her nose. "Nuts! I forgot my presents to you two." She sighed. "Oh, well. I can give them to you when we dig my car out of a snowdrift."
Henry swallowed his bite of turkey. "Where are you parked?"
"On the side of the road near Clinton."
He turned to Abe, and Abe's expression conveyed the same idea that he had. "We'll exchange gifts then." He made a mental note to check her tail pipe for accumulated snow while they were there.
Henry took a quick look at the table. "What would you have done tonight if you were home?"
"I probably would have found something to watch on TV and daydreamed about making you watch Pride and Prejudice just to hear you complain about what they got wrong, compare the book to the movie, or see you recognize one of the filming locations."
"I might take you up on it one day." He had no idea why he said that.
Abe nearly choked on his roasted potatoes. "Pops? Really? You would watch TV?"
"Love can make a man consider doing things that he would normally detest." He swallowed as he fought back the memory of how far he was willing to go for both Abigail and Jo.
As they continued talking and eating, Henry's mind used the painful memory of the days before he had revealed his condition to Jo as a starting point in reviewing their relationship. Since their first case, she had been a part of their lives. They always shared in each other's joys and sorrows and supported each other in their time of need. Even if there was still so much to tell each other about their lives, they had come to know each other almost as well as they knew themselves. If something were to happen to Jo, it would devastate him as Abigail's disappearance had years before. Somehow, Jo had become family without him realizing it.
Henry looked at her as he took a sip of wine. He felt his motivation to determine their compatibility starting to decrease. In its place, hope for a continuation of their relationship throughout her life began to grow. At that moment, he found himself wishing that, one day, this could be a constant part of their future.
