Disclaimer: I don't own anything...unfortunately.
A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews!!!
New York City
December, 1985
"…forecasts are predicting a very white Christmas, with severe snow storms developing later this week. Temps could drop into the 'teens and we could see a record of over three feet of snow…"
Max turned off the radio, glancing out the nearest window to find that it had already begun to snow. It was coming down lightly, just enough to add a dusting to the two or three inches that had previously fallen. The branches of the barren trees were plastered in ice, and icicles hung from almost every high surface.
Max had been sitting at the kitchen table watching as his wife, Valerie, baked tray upon tray of Christmas cookies. She had been baking all day--making a wide variety; everything from cut-outs to the classic chocolate chip--filling their apartment with the heavenly aroma. He turned and admired her, a smirk spreading across his face, wondering how he'd managed to settle down with such a beautiful woman.
It had been hard, of course, for Valerie to "tame" him. When they met, she was just a substitute teacher, and worked part-time as a waitress at a local diner. (Now she had a steady job teaching history classes at a high school.) Max was still the womanizing bachelor plagued with the effects of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, not to mention he'd been pretty torn up about his niece leaving them. Once they laid eyes on each other, Max had her falling for him with his irresistible charm, and she had him captivated by her very presence. Even Max could see that their relationship was meant to go much further than any one night stand. Valerie was able to tolerate Max on every level, and Max was thankful to have her by his side through the rough patches. They dated for awhile, and before they knew it, they were happily married with two wonderful children.
Max got up from his seat and approached Valerie, who was standing at the counter rolling out cookie dough. Her hands and the front of her shirt were covered in flour, and her light brown hair was thrown up in a messy ponytail, but Max found her highly attractive nonetheless. He slid his arms around her waist, and bent down to rest his chin on her shoulder.
"I want you
I want you so bad
I want you
I want you so bad…"
Max told his wife, who stopped working. She brushed a strand of hair out of her hazel eyes and laughed, finding her husband distracting. It was hard to bake when you had Max there to serenade you about how he wanted to make out with you.
"Not now, Max." she mock-scolded, placing her hands on top of his.
"It's driving me mad
It's driving me mad…"
"Max," she turned around, grinning at him. "I'm busy…and the kids--"
"The kids are fine," Max replied, putting his hands on either side of her face. "and I'm sure you can afford to stop slaving over the oven to spend a little quality time with your husband."
It was really hard to resist him, what with that adorable smile and all. Valerie leaned in to kiss Max; their lips barely met, when--
"Mom! Max spilled my nail polish all over the carpet!" Michelle Rose Carrigan, Valerie and Max's twelve-year-old daughter, yelled from her bedroom. Max groaned, looking at his wife pathetically.
"If you behave," she whispered, "I'll spend some quality time with you later."
Michelle emerged after a few moments, towing her seven-year-old brother, Max Jr., by the sleeve of his shirt. He had a guilty look in his eyes, and the tips of some of his fingers were stained with bright, tangerine-colored nail polish. He was the spitting image of Max, with his disheveled, golden blond hair, sapphire eyes, and obvious trouble making abilities. Michelle, on the other hand, took after her mother, not only in physical appearance, but also in her personality. She was a total girly-girl, and was often spoiled by her aunts Prudence and Rita.
"Maxwell Jude Carrigan," Valerie reprimanded; Max cringed at the use of his full name and hung his head. "What have I told you about touching Michelle's things?"
"To not do it…" Max mumbled.
"Apologize to your sister, buddy." His father told him.
"Sorry." The young boy answered. Pleased enough, Max put an arm around his daughter's shoulders and walked with her back to her room to help clean up the mess. Max Jr. returned to his own room; Valerie rolled her eyes once he left her sight. There was never a dull moment in the Carrigan household…
------------------------------------------
Sadie and JoJo entered their apartment, arms filled with bags and other luggage. They'd just finished a weekend of performing at various venues up and down the coast, and were quite exhausted. They couldn't wait to unwind and take it easy for a few days. Touring always managed to take a toll on both of them, and it was nice to come home and be with family again.
A smile graced Sadie's lips when she heard the familiar sound of a guitar wailing somewhere in the apartment.
"Jimi! Eleanor!" JoJo shouted, closing the door behind them. He and Sadie set their bags aside, JoJo placing his guitars carefully against the back of the couch. The guitar playing came to an abrupt end, and their children ambled in from the small hallway where their bedrooms were located.
Jimi, their fourteen-year-old son, had been the one playing guitar. He had obviously inherited his parents' love for music, and his father's talent. Eleanor, who was following behind her brother, was a feisty twelve-year-old with a wicked singing voice, although her true passion was writing. From a young age, she loved to tell stories, and had notebooks filled with her own tales. The two of them were a mix of both of their parents; dark skinned with sparkling, mahogany brown eyes. Eleanor had Sadie's stunning, curly hair, while Jimi took after JoJo.
"Hey, guys," Sadie greeted, giving each of her kids a hug and a kiss. JoJo bent down to kiss Eleanor on the cheek and shared a high-five with his son, while giving him an encouraging remark about his guitar playing.
"You weren't too bad while we were gone, were ya? No wild parties, strip poker…I know your uncle Max would jump at the chance to put those kinds of ideas into your heads." Sadie stated. Jimi and Eleanor shared an amused glance before joining their parents on the couch.
"How were the concerts?" Eleanor asked, leaning back against her father's shoulder.
"Rockin'," JoJo replied. "As usual. The Florida gig was nice, man…warm and sunny. Then we come back to this…" He gestured to the snow outside, shaking his head. Once JoJo mentioned the Florida show, Sadie's thoughts immediately turned to the girl with bright, blue eyes. Ever since that girl had talked to her, Sadie couldn't stop thinking about how much she had resembled Lucy and Jude. She felt as though she should've brought it up to her husband, but never really got the chance.
"In all seriousness, though, you didn't annoy the hell outta your aunts and uncles, did you?" Sadie questioned, pushing that thought to the back of her mind again.
"Nah," Jimi reassured her. "Aunt Valerie came up to check on us, and so did Aunt Lucy. We went down and ate dinner with them every night, too."
"They took good care of us," Eleanor agreed. "They always do." Sadie grinned. It was a comfort to know that the group pf them had remained so close. They were practically family--they all considered themselves as such. It also helped that, slowly but surely, they all moved into apartments in the same building. They moved out of their cramped, Greenwich place into a nicer building in a better neighborhood to raise their children. Sadie and JoJo lived above Max and Valerie, Max and Valerie lived down the hall from Jude and Lucy, and Prudence and Rita resided in an apartment two floors up from Lucy and Jude. It was the perfect arrangement. Since Michelle and Eleanor were the same age, they hung out all the time, and Max usually tagged along with Jimi, almost as if the older boy was his role model. Unfortunately, they were still missing the little girl who was very dear to their hearts…
"So, what have you all been doing while we were away?" JoJo inquired.
"Nothing much to report." Jimi stated.
"Yeah…Aunt Pru and Aunt Rita are still on vacation in California. Aunt Pru called yesterday and said that they'd be home by Christmas Eve." Eleanor informed her parents.
"Speaking of Christmas…who's having the party at their place, Jo? You remember?"
JoJo shrugged. "Couldn't tell ya."
Sadie sat up, suddenly sort of panicked. "I better call…I hope we're not having it here…otherwise, we'll be eating macaroni and cheese and singing Christmas carols around the fake plant in the corner, 'cause I don't have a blessed thing ready." She disappeared into the kitchen to call Lucy, the bead curtain clattering noisily behind her.
"C'mon," JoJo said to Jimi, "I'll help ya with that song on guitar. You wanna watch, Elle?"
"Sure." Eleanor said eagerly. She trailed her older brother and JoJo into the back bedroom, and soon the wail of the guitar resonated throughout the apartment once more.
---------------------------------------------------------
Lucy sat curled up on the window seat, observing the people down on the street who were walking hurriedly through the falling snow. Some broke into a run to their cars, staring down at the ground as they went. Others took their time, while trying to keep their hats and scarves securely on themselves. They all looked terribly cold; normally, Lucy would give anything to be outside in that weather, freezing or not. Today was not one of those days. Today, unfortunately, was a day where Lucy's thoughts had rendered her into a reflective, saddened state--something she usually went through around the holidays.
It was hard for Lucy, knowing that her only child--her baby girl, who was seventeen now--was halfway across the universe, or so it seemed. She and Jude were forced to spend another Christmas without her. Everyone knew it was tough for the both of them, and the rest of the family skirted around the subject, hesitant to bring it up during this particular time of the year. For the first five years Lizzy was gone, Lucy often spent a good deal of the holiday holed up in her room, crying. She found it even harder when the Harrisons sent letters telling of their daughter's progress (including pictures of Lizzy as well), but the feelings of sorrow worsened once they stopped writing and Lucy no longer received the photos of their child. They had lost every connection with her, and that fact left a gaping hole in her heart.
Sighing, Lucy stood and sauntered down the hall to Jude's art studio, where he had been working quietly for the past hour and a half. The door was slightly ajar; Lucy could see her husband bent over at his desk, hand moving expertly over a large paper, perfecting his latest drawing. She pushed the door open further and slid inside, taking time to admire the various pieces of artwork hung all over the room. Some were finished, others had just been started, and a few had not formed into anything quite recognizable. The room was a good size; white walls and a hardwood floor which had paint splatters in random places and in an assortment of colors. Several easels had been set up around the room as well, some held completed paintings, while additional ones held others that hadn't been finished.
Lucy moved toward Jude, peering over his shoulder at the new drawing. His hands were stained with charcoal, which was the medium he had chosen for this particular piece. He stopped when he heard his wife approaching, and held the paper up for her to see. It was a sketch of Lizzy, a copy of the picture he had in a frame on his desk. She was two, and Jude had been trying to get her to finger paint. There was paint all over her, and she was giggling.
"Cute." she said.
Jude smiled. "It's one of my favorites." He moved his chair back, leaving room for Lucy to take a seat on his lap. She hooked her arms around his neck and leaned into his shoulder.
"You all right, love?" he asked, placing a soft kiss into her hair.
"I still miss her, Jude." Lucy confessed, letting a tear slip down her cheek. Jude wrapped his arms around Lucy's waist.
"I know," he replied. "I do, too."
"I mean, to think that we don't even know what she looks like now…" she stated. "Or what her favorite color is, or what music she listens to, or if she has a boyfriend…stupid little things, but…I want to know. Charlie and Maggie haven't written in twelve years, Jude. Who knows what the hell could've happened in all that time?" Lucy wondered.
Sometimes, like this very moment, she often questioned whether they had made the right decision. She hadn't pictured her family this way. She was supposed to talk to her daughter about boy problems and let her vent about annoying girls at school and the latest gossip. Jude was supposed to interrogate her boyfriends and spoil her rotten. Both of them were feeling immense regret; that maybe, somehow, they could've worked it out so that Lizzy could've stayed with them. Constantly, they thought about what their daughter was doing wherever she was, and if she had ever thought about the possibility of meeting her real parents.
Lucy got up from Jude's lap and went to the window, where frost had begun to form because of the bitter cold. Her azure eyes swept the freezing, snow-covered street outside, mirroring the feeling in her heart.
"Crying, crying,
waiting, waiting,
hoping, hoping,
you'll come back,
I just can't seem
to get you off my mind.
Crying, crying,
waiting, waiting,
hoping, hoping,
you'll come back.
You're the one I love.
I think about you
all the time…"
Lucy wept, letting the tears fall freely. Jude got to his feet and approached his wife, pulling her to him.
"Crying, crying,
tears keep a-falling
all night long.
Waiting, waiting,
it seems so useless,
I know it's wrong
to keep on...
...crying, crying,
waiting, waiting,
hoping, hoping,
you'll come back
maybe someday soon,
things will change
and you'll be mine…"
Jude sang sadly, a troubled look in his warm, brown eyes. He missed Lizzy terribly, and like Lucy, there wasn't a day that went by when he didn't think about her. Their voices blended together this time, each carrying a noticeable hint of misery:
"Crying, crying,
waiting, waiting,
hoping, hoping…"
