December 25, 1979

Miles' gift to her, the Bing Crosby Christmas album, spins on the record player, and thank GOD, because while nominally Juliet has nothing against John Denver or The Carpenters (other than the fact that they all but scream "WELCOME TO THE SEVENTIES"), they had been the only Christmas albums they owned, and if she had to listen one more time to John Denver singing "Away in a Manger," someone was going to get hurt. John Denver, preferably, but he doesn't ever come by the house, so. . . And hey! Did you know? He's going to die in a plane crash, and Karen Carpenter has anorexia (Trust me, I'm from the future). Cheery! Merry Christmas! Now, let's all listen to the delightfully awful ditty, "Please, Daddy (Don't Get Drunk This Christmas)" (side one on the John Denver album).

And, yes, Daddy, please don't get drunk this Christmas, although she knows he will, and will try to hide it, but it's the only way he can act even remotely seasonal, because their marriage is collapsing (has collapsed), and they have to pretend for their girls. Don't want to ruin the holiday, oh no! And she knows it's tense and weird, and Mom and Dad aren't speaking, and Rachel is acting out because she can sense something's up. Juliet can, too, but instead of acting up, she's trying to be extra good, and not complain that she wanted a Lite Brite not Shrinky Dinks, and trying to figure out why Mom and Dad didn't give each other gifts this year. Tense. And Awkward. And Weird. And Awful.

That's a thousand miles and at least two temperate zones away, though.

Instead she's here. It's colder here, actually snowing even. But it's not tense or awkward or weird. She's just put Rachel down for the night. James is driving Miles home. One too many eggnogs, they decided, so James is his chauffeur for the evening. Juliet leans against the front window and watches the snow come down, enjoys listening to Bing (thank you, thank you, thank you, Miles). She should pick up the living room, covered as it is in discarded wrapping paper and ribbons. The idea of bending over and picking it up, though, is overwhelming. Miles and James did it once already anyway, before discovering that Rachel preferred playing in the shiny paper more than she liked her new tricycle. Then she proceeded to turn away her new Playskool shopping cart in favor of the box it came in.

Juliet could clean up the kitchen, where they've left out the dishes from dinner, from lunch, heck, even from this morning. Blueberry pancakes, and James thinks this should be a family tradition, and why not? God, those plates must be horribly sticky, so, no, no . . . she'll soak them overnight. Instead, she'll just watch the snow come down. OR, well, here's something she can do: tack Miles' stocking to the mantle. That was her gift to him, and she thinks maybe he was as happy with that as she was with her new Bing Crosby album. Yes! She'll tack his stocking to the mantle, because she's too freaking lazy (too freaking pregnant) to do anything else right now.

It is not tense or awkward or weird here. There is a fire in the fireplace, snow falling on the front yard, a sleeping child upstairs, another who is (for once) not using her bladder as a trampoline, wrapping paper all around, dirty dishes in the kitchen. They tried a silly "sit in front of the tree" picture, but Rachel wouldn't cooperate, refusing to look at Uncle Miles, no matter how many goofy faces he pulled, and when it was all over with, Juliet couldn't get up off the floor, so that had been a disaster. That was the "disaster" of Christmas 1979. Not Mom finding the necklace Dad was going to give to someone else. Not deciding on the 24th to give up marriage counseling. Not icy silences and muttered insults. No, the disaster here was a botched family photo and too goddamn much Carpenters on the record player.

And ahhhh. Now? Bing. Timeless, sort of like she is (is becoming?). They used to have Bing back on the Island, and nothing tops drunken Miles singing along to "Christmas in Kilarney." Juliet crosses her arms, leans on the wall, stares out the window, mesmerized by the falling snow.

"What's on the TV?"

She practically jumps out of her skin. She hadn't heard James come in.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle ya." He leans against the wall on the other side of the window, pushing aside the curtain with the back of his hand. "Pretty out there, huh?"

She nods. Bing starts up with "I'll Be Home for Christmas." James looks alarmed. "I'll change it," he says, turning toward the record player "Want a little 'Mele Kalikimaka'?"

She smiles what she imagines is a half-smile. "Leave it. It's OK."

He leans against the wall again, and reaches out to stroke her face. "Seriously? It ain't no big deal to move the needle just a bit."

First time he ever saw her cry (or more accurately, saw her frantically wiping her cheeks with the backs of her hands): Christmas 1974, Dharma party, Bing on the record player. "I'll Be Home for Christmas." If only in my dreams. If only in my dreams.

Six Christmases on that damn Island. Three here in 1970s Michigan. Nine Christmases she's been gone. Nine Christmases this very song has brought her to tears. Nine Christmases she's been home only in her dreams. No, eight Christmases she's been home only in her dreams. This Christmas? This ninth one? She is home. No more dreaming about it. This is home. This is better than what she thinks of (used to think of) as home.

Her eyes are brimming with tears. He looks uncomfortable. "I'm turnin' that shit off." She reaches out for his arm to stop him.

"Don't. I'm happy. Happy tears, OK?" She wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands (see how far they've gotten in five years?)

"Whatever you say."

"This is better than my real home. Or, well, I guess this is my real home, and, trust me, it's better than anything going on down in Miami right about now."

"Yeah? How so?"

"My parents have been going to marriage counseling all fall."

He interrupts. "That why you been obssessin' over them lately?"

"That, yes, and thinking of our own kids . . . all of it, I guess. Anyway, I think their final session was last Thursday. Then my mom found this necklace my dad gave . .. or is planning to give . . . will give?" (TIME TRAVEL! GAH!) "Well, give it to his girlfriend. It's really tense down there, I remember that. But I didn't understand why. Last night, instead of staying up late putting out Santa presents, they sat up late deciding to call it quits. As of today, their marriage is kaput."

"They told y'all that on Christmas? No offense, Jules, but that's some shitty-ass parenting right there."

She laughs quietly. "No, no they didn't tell us on Christmas. They didn't want to 'ruin our holiday.' Then tomorrow, Gramma and Grandpa Hill are coming to visit for the week, so they put it off till the New Year. Except I'm going to get the flu, so they're going to put it off a little longer, then Dad's going on a business trip – with his girlfriend, mind you. By the time he comes back, Rachel's gonna have the flu . . . Then, then, finally they tell us. Mom'll spin this whole bunch of BS about what love means and yada yada yada. . . on Valentine's Day." She rolls her eyes.

James makes a little round "o" with his mouth. He says, "All these years, I just kinda guessed you thought it was a lame holiday, 'cause, well, it is sorta lame. How come you never told me this before?"

She shrugs, avoids his question. "God, you know what?" she says. "I was such a little softy. Such a romantic. I loved that holiday, dressed in pink and everything. I'd gone to school that day with a special Valentine for this boy, Billy, I liked." She rolls her eyes again. "I hoped maybe he'd give me a special Valentine, too. He didn't, if you're keeping score. Turns out, he thought I was annoying because I knew all the answers in math. As if that's not enough, I go home and get this stupid bullshit from Mom. And so that was that. All that bullshit I used to believe in, true love and soul mates and meant to be and all that stupid romantic crap. No more." She's unfolded her arms, and makes her points with short hand chops. She sighs, lowers her hands. "Maybe they were doing me a favor, I don't know . . ."

"Ahem!" James phonily and loudly clears his throat. She stops her soliloquy to look at him in confusion. "I think what ya mean is you stopped believin' in all that stupid romantic crap until, blam! Runnin' outta the jungle right at ya, here comes a fine specimen of perfect romantic manhood. And from that day forward," he's speaking in the story voice he uses when telling Rachel stories about farm animals and princesses, "she once again believed in true love. Amiright?"

She grins. "Well, at that very moment, no, no, I don't think that's the moment."

"So you're admittin' there was a moment?"

"Remember when you gave me that Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? That was really special to me, James."

"Well, I aim to please." He looks so proud of himself, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. He says, "I ever tell ya my first night ever in juvvie was Valentine's Day?"

"No, and see! This. This is why I didn't tell you before."

"Ain't sure I follow."

"My parents got freaking divorced, James. Cry me a river, you know? In the whole scheme of things, it's not really a big deal. I mean compared to what you . . ."

He puts his fingers to her lips. "It ain't a who-had-the-shittiest-parents competition."

"Good, because you know I hate to lose to you at anything."

"So, guess that footrace I was plannin' to challenge you to tomorrow is off, then?" He reaches out to put his hands on her waist, or, well, where here waist used to be. "I ever tell ya about the guy who got hit with the hammer?"

She shakes her head, unable to see where this is heading.

James says, "Guy's sittin' in the park, waitin' to meet his friend, when, blam! Outta nowhere, this lunatic comes up and whacks him over the head with a hammer, runs off. 'Yow!' the guy howls. Goddamn but his head hurts, you know? Anyway, 'bout five minutes later, his buddy strolls up. First guy says, 'You ain't gonna fuckin' believe this, but a guy just came outta nowhere and whacked me over the head with a hammer.' Friend says, 'Really? Some guy just came outta nowhere and whacked me over the head with a sledgehammer.'"

"OK?" Juliet says.

"Point is, just 'cause the guy's friend got hit with a sledgehammer doesn't make the first guy's head hurt any less. Look, when I was a kid, I got hit with a sledgehammer square between the eyes. And, yeah, maybe you just got pinged a bit by a hammer, but it still fuckin' hurt, didn't it? You don't gotta apologize for that."

"Thank you." She loops her hands around his neck. They sway a little bit to "Silver Bells."

"So, now I know what your deal is, I say, startin' this Valentine's, we come up with a better way to celebrate."

"What do you have in mind? I could go for Bungee jumping."

"Nah, don't think folks are crazy enough to do that yet. Motorcycle racing?"

"Deep sea diving?"

"We got some time to figure it out." They're still swaying along, even though "Jingle Bells" is a little too jaunty for the current pace. "How 'bout if I put in some more appropriate dancin' music? Maybe a little Marvin Gaye?"

She rolls her eyes. Let's get it on my (increasingly fat) ass. "Can we just stick with Christmas music tonight?" Let's get it on? Really? No, she isn't in the mood for that.


How did he do it? He didn't even use Marvin Gaye, but somehow . . . they've just gotten it on.

She really hadn't been in the mood. And yet, she read on the couch for a bit, and when she got up, the kitchen was clean . . . sticky breakfast dishes and all. And the wrapping paper got picked up, then he sat on couch, patted his lap for her feet, which he rubbed while sipping hot chocolate, and well . . . he unbuttoned the top three buttons on his flannel shirt when he picked up the wrapping paper. And the fire, and the warmth and the really really happy day . . .

So, now she's trying to catch her breath, backed up into his perfect chest, his arms around her, and . . . How'd he do it? Does it matter? What matters is that it's been a really nice, really happy, really kind of perfect Christmas. There's a blanket of snow outside, and her family is tucked in nice and warm. Even (or especially) the littlest of them, who's decided now is the time to get back to his jumping and bouncing.

James feels it, too, rubbing his hand right there (trust me, it feels a lot cooler from the outside than it does from the inside), he laughs low, kissing her neck. "Hey," he whispers. "Remember that who-had-the-shittiest-parents competition?"

"I'm not going to agree to a competition I'm sure to lose," she murmurs back.

She feels him take a deep breath. He doesn't laugh at her joke. He says, "I don't give a damn 'bout where I finish. Here's what I do care about – this one?" She feels the pressure of his fingertips on her stomach. "And that little girl down the hall? All's I care about is that they finish dead last."

"Me too" she whispers. "Me too."

Please. Please don't let us be the world's shittiest parents. Please.

She wonders sometimes, though. She worries. Quite frankly, she's scared shitless. They can give them a stable home, teach them manners, and educate them, and love them love them love them . .. but what the hell does it matter if what happened doesn't happen? Then what happens? Do they just disappear?

Dear God, please let what we're giving them be enough, Amen. And, P.S., look out for Rachel and Juliet. They're in for a rough few months.


Believe it or not, I'm really getting towards the end. Here's the deal: there's going to be some stuff that doesn't make the story. Either it doesn't fit with the plot as I've set it up, or it's just . . .enough is enough, you know? So, here are some scenes/chapters that aren't making the cut. If you leave a review (and you can review anonymously, FYI), vote for one or two (or, heck, a top three). I'll maybe (no guarantees) publish the top vote getter at some point when this story is actually over. Or, PM me to vote if you don't want to leave a review

Jimmy's hockey teammate fractures his spine and Jack is the doctor and has a confrontation with Jimmy

Juliet tells Miles and James that they're millionaires

Rachel meets Anson for the first time

The events of the Miles chapters (Juliet's 40th birthday, miscarriage, Miles and James fight, etc.) from James and Juliet's POV

J&J tell Miles about Jimmy dating Kate

Scenes from Miles' relationship with Claudia and meeting her again in the "present'

Dharma: James has to help young Ben after Roger has a drunken blackout

Rachel hits Jimmy over the head with a candy dish while James is watching them.

First Christmas in Dharma (the one referenced here)