Chapter 53

Warmth Of Family

The days of October waned and November arrived, bringing cold biting winds and the ever present threat of snow. I was doing well with school -some "A's," "B's" and and unfortunate "C" that just refused to go up despite hours of extra study, but I was looking forward to the end of fall term.

When I wasn't spending time on my studies, my thoughts would race to Ashley. She was doing well in her classes and trying (yet failing I do believe) to teach me French. I was glad she was enjoying her senior year though. I know now how much that last year means to a person, when you've worked so hard for so long and earned the rights to have all that the last year brings you, and then have it all evaporate before your eyes. But that was my own fault. I was just content to stand on the sidelines watching her enjoy her year.

I was still shaking off the feeling of school day blues when I found a thick letter waiting for me. The return address was from Melissa Ford, and it took me a few minutes to place the name. Oh yeah – the contact at the publishing company who was reviewing my manuscript! It was a thick envelope and I began to get my hopes up, thinking great news was on my way. My hopes came crashing down, however after I got home and read the letter. Basically, she said it was a good manuscript but lacked many elements that other submissions had to offer.

She said she appreciated the cover artwork and perhaps in the future could use me as an illustrator and cover artist, which told me she knew my manuscript was sent as a favor, but for now would have to decline my manuscript for publication. I felt like a deflated balloon - empty and disappointed. I took her letter and put it with the other reject letters in the box under my bed. Life goes on.

Thanksgiving had arrived and Mr. and Mrs. Roberts once again invited me to their house to celebrate and have dinner. Having declined the same invitation last year, I accepted it this year. I knew I was welcome in their home as they had always treated me more as a son than as a guest. They made me feel welcome here, but I never wanted to intrude on their hospitality. Last year I was just the "tenant over the garage", this year I felt more like family than ever.

"How's that land, Michael? Done anything with it since making it your own?" Mr Roberts asked.

"I haven't really had time to. School's keeping me busy. I want to build a house on it though. I've played with some floor plans, designing it how I want it to look. It's just going to have to wait for now though."

"Really! A house! There are several good builders in town. When you're ready, I can give you their names, if you're really interested in going down that route."

I finished my plate and nodded. "That would be great, sir. Thank you." Something else had been gnawing at me, something I felt I needed to say. This being Thanksgiving, I figured it was also the right time to say it. "Mr. Roberts, Mrs. Roberts... I never really said thank you for all you both have done for me over the last year since I met you. I really do appreciate it. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. I wouldn't have what I have, I know that. So thank you both, truly, for everything."

"You're welcome, Michael." Mrs Roberts said, looking at me carefully then patting my hand. Even now, I couldn't tell if she had believed the lie I gave of my age. She was the one person who always looked at me skeptically, but never said a word to me about it. She was a mother to a real 19 year old away at college, after all, and mothers just always seem to know.

After Thanksgiving, the weeks just passed in quick succession. I had my finals just before Christmas and as I expected, my overall grades averaged to a "B". My "A" in one class balanced the "C" in another, and all my other "B's" just fell in line. As bad as I felt about the "C", I was just glad to get the whole quarter finally over with.

Having to see Dr. Benning in a professional manner three times a week in class then ramping up the charm on the weekends as I took his daughter out was getting exhausting. Now I could be myself. I didn't realize how much of myself I was soon to become.

I had been so busy with everything, finals and holiday nonsense that when George tried to stop me in the post office just two weeks before Christmas with a package, I almost didn't see him. But I heard him. I definitely heard him.

"...Ponyboy Curtis..."

Talk about being stopped DEAD in my tracks. "What?" I asked, turning to him, pale as a sheet.

"I said, do you know anyone named 'Ponyboy Curtis'? This came for him but has your address on it. I guess they screwed up. Here," he said, handing me the box, "I have holiday deliveries to make. Merry Christmas, Michael!"

I looked at the return address on the box, from John Quinn. It took a second then I remembered - the three books I illustrated. He said they'd be out at the holidays, and well, that was now. Yeah!!!

After I got home, I eagerly tore open the box and pulled out the three complimentary copies of his books. It's a weird feeling, holding something in your hands that you know you designed from scratch and is yet professionally done, available for anyone to hold. I saw his name in big letters on the cover and in the bottom was my own... "Illustrations by Ponyboy Curtis."

It gave me goosebumps. I smiled at my own name...silly, I know. I was actually proud of myself. If I did nothing else, I had this in my life.

I sat the books sitting upright on the bookshelf, next to my diploma, then read the letter that accompanied the books.

Michael, here are your copies. Great job, once again. The new editions will start regionally at first then will filter over the nation by the summer. I am currently working on script for my next book and will call you when I am ready for your magical touch. Have a great Christmas! John

I smiled, then wondered how to do the explaining I knew I would have to do when people around here saw my work. I thought and thought about it, then an hour and a headache later I decided if anyone asked, I'll just tell the truth. Lies were getting just too damn complicated. And painful. I swallowed a few aspirin, rubbing my temples to try to sooth the burning ache growing at the sides of my head.

The next afternoon, as I returned Ashley to her house after a day of shopping for her parents holiday gifts, Mrs. Benning called me aside.

"Michael, please have Christmas dinner with us...unless you have other plans."

I looked at her, surprised. I hadn't expected this to happen.

"Thank you, Mrs. Benning. It's very nice of you to invite me. What time do you want me to come over?"

She smiled. "Dinner will be ready by two. Come over anytime before then. You're always welcome."

I agonized over that week at what gift to give them, or even if I was actually expected to have a gift. This was the sort of thing someone was supposed to have taught me but obviously didn't. On second thought, why did I even expect any greaser would teach me manners or grace, when for holiday fun the gang burped out the tune of Jingle Bells? I shook my head, laughing at the memory.

I looked in the stores that afternoon but found nothing I felt was befitting the Bennings. No little trinket I could give them was nice enough. Then an idea came to me and I smiled, returning home to get out my art supplies.

I worked on it for the two weeks I had before Christmas, finishing it just in time. I found a frame and wrapped it all up, and on Christmas day I made my way to their house.

"Merry Christmas, Michael!" Mrs. Benning said to me as I came into their home.

"Thank you...Merry Christmas to you too. I hope you don't mind, I have a little something for you and Dr. Benning. I hope you like it." I handed her the gift and took off my coat, slipping another smaller package from my coat pocket into my shirt pocket without being seen. Mrs. Benning started gushing.

"Oh, Michael, this is so nice of you. You didn't have to do this." She gave me a hug – the type mothers give their kids, then turned to go into the living room. "Alfred, look what Michael did, he got us a gift..." She disappeared into the other room, her voice fading into the distance as I took off my boots. When I looked up, I saw Ashley peaking out from the piano room and I went to join her.

"Merry Christmas, Michael," she said quietly.

"Merry Christmas, Ash. I hope you don't mind, but I got you a little gift too." From my pocket I pulled out the small box with the now somewhat rumpled bow on it. I handed it to her.

Her eyes grew large as I placed it in her hands. "Oh Mike, you didn't have to...."

"Well, it's Christmas, and I couldn't exactly come here empty handed, now could I? I really hope you like it."

"I'm sure I will," she said, taking off the ribbon. She opened the box and took a breath. I could tell she wasn't expecting what she saw. She fingered it lightly then looked at me. "It's beautiful! Thank you." She said, barely above a whisper.

I smiled, happily watching her reaction. She held the necklace up. It had a pearl and a ruby – her birthstone and mine, placed together in one setting, dangling on a gold chain. She handed it to me then held her hair up for me to place it around her neck. After it was secured, she turned back and felt it on her skin, blushing at me.

"I love it." She whispered.

"I'm glad." I held both her hands in mine, feeling their warmth and looking in her eyes. I was mindful of where I was, otherwise I'd have held her closer.

"Oh, Michael!" Mrs. Benning's voice from the other room broke into my thoughts. "It's lovely!"

Ashley and I went into the living room where her parents sat by the tree having opened my gift.

Ashley sat by her mother to see my work better and smiled appreciatively. Even Dr. Benning seemed to like it. I had drawn their family in a portrait style using colored pencils on a 10 X 14 background. I was pleased to see the looks on their faces.

"I hope it wasn't too forward of me and that I got the likenesses right." I said bashfully.

"It's wonderful, Michael." Said Mrs. Benning.

"Very well done, son." Said Dr. Benning.

I smiled, not missing that he had called me "son". They admired it for an appropriate amount of time, then Mrs. Benning looked at me, smiled and got up.

"Well, lets go eat." She said, leading us to the dining room.

It was a wonderful Christmas, almost a bit too Norman Rockwellish for me. They had a large tree decorated to the hilt, delicious food and soft holiday music playing on the record player.

My holidays at home with the guys usually involved the aforementioned burping of carols, a half dead tree bought on sale decorated with repaired ornaments, the radio on in the background and for dinner a ham with sweet potatoes, corn and biscuits. We'd have gifts - normally socks and sweat pants for Darry and Soda, and for me they would go in together and buy me a new pair of shoes and jeans. Track wore out my shoes and jeans were always being torn up or were fully used up, especially since I usually inherited Soda's old clothes. Then we'd hang out with who ever was at our house, watching TV until the day was over.

It was definitely a different way of doing things here but I must say I liked it. Yeah, I missed Darry and the guys, missed them so much it hurt; but this was nice too. Comforting. Like family. I missed that.

XX

Reviews please! Thank you to all who have read and kept up. I appreciate it! Calla Lilly Rose