Chapter Twenty:
Barbara awoke on Christmas morning shaking so badly that she practically vibrated right out of bed. Sure, she was excited that it was Christmas. She always was, even though she was no longer a child. She held fast to the belief that the magic of Christmas was for everyone. But that wasn't really the source of her shakes.
A week previous, she had made a daring proposition to her father. She had asked if Joker could attend Christmas dinner. Jim had purpled and swollen up with the effort of keeping his tirade to himself. Thankfully, Sarah—healed in body, but still carrying a veil of sadness over her being from her recent loss—had gently placed a hand on her husband's arm. He had looked at her, silently pleading with her not to say what he had, somehow, known she was going to say.
"Jim… it's Christmas."
There had still been a bit of fire stoking in his eye, but he still gave a curt nod to Barbara. It was followed by the instruction that he was to arrive at dinner, not in the morning. The opening of presents was just for them. Barbara had readily agreed.
Now, bathed and dressed after having opened gifts and enjoying a small, simple lunch, she was in the kitchen aiding Sarah with the cooking. The meal was almost done, only a few minutes left for some of the sides, when the doorbell sounded. Jim entered the kitchen, planting himself like a guard dog next to his wife.
"I'm not answering it," he grumbled.
Barbara wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and shook her head. "I've got it."
She was just over the threshold of the room when she heard Sarah muttered, "Be nice, Jim."
She didn't wait for her father's response. Instead, she paused on just the other side of the front door, running her hands down the front of the red, black, and yellow plaid skirt she had chosen to wear over a pair of thin black leggings. She opened the door and was greeted by Joker's familiar grin and pale complexion. Suddenly, all the anxiety and suspicion she had had for him over the last several days—of which her spying had yielded nothing—melted away, if only for a moment. Sarah had been right. It was Christmas, a time to be a little extra nice.
"Merry Christmas, baby," he said as she stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms about his neck.
He held a couple of small bouquets of flowers and a bottle of wine, which he held out to his side to accommodate Barbara's hug. She planted a quick kiss to his ruby lips.
"Merry Christmas," she whispered. "I have a present for you, a little later."
Joker quirked an eyebrow at her. "I look forward to that. And I have yours later today as well."
She arched a questioning brow at him, but instead of asking—because she knew she would get nothing but teasing—she let him go and invited him inside. She shut the door and turned in time to see Jim and Sarah emerge from the kitchen. Joker fixed him with his most charming face, even bowing a little to the couple.
"I am very honored to have received your invitation, Mr. and Mrs. Gordon. I've come with gifts."
Jim strode forth, making it plain that whatever Joker was handing over was going to go through him first. Barbara rolled her eyes, and Joker did everyone a courtesy by pretending that he didn't notice this blatantly aggressive move. He passed Jim one of the bouquets—which was white poinsettias and roses—and the bottle of wine. Jim eyed the label and the cork before grunting out something that Barbara supposed was a thank you. Then, Joker turned and gifted Barbara with the other bouquet.
"Not your gift," he whispered to her, and she giggled.
Sarah, after a deep breath, announced that dinner was ready. The four of them moved into the kitchen, with Barbara taking Joker's coat and hat and hanging it on the standing coat rack by the front door. They arranged the food much like they had on Thanksgiving, again forming an assembly line to fill their plates. Once they had done so, everyone took a seat at the table, and grace was said. It was rather surreal, sitting at the dinner table, saying grace with her father, the police commissioner, across from her, and her boyfriend, former public enemy number one, on her left. As everyone began to eat, the only sound filling the room was that of forks clattering against plates and some light chewing. After a few more moments of this, Barbara decided that she couldn't take it any longer. She turned to Joker, grinning.
"I'm glad that you're here," she said, resting a hand affectionately on his arm.
He flashed his ever-present grin back at her, his green eyes twinkling. "As am I."
Sarah's head was fixated in a downward position, but Barbara could just see past the veil of her hair that her stepmother's eyes were locked onto Jim, who was glaring down at his food. Barbara refused to acknowledge this and found herself determined to get a conversation going.
"So, how are book sales going?" she asked.
Jim's hand clenched around his knife. Joker's eyes were only on her.
"Oh, it's apparently on everyone's Christmas wish list because sales are phenomenal. I can't wait to see what the first royalty check looks like. According to my agent, it's gonna be a whopper, and that's just her taking a guess."
He followed that with a little chuckle.
"That's great. I'm very happy for you."
"Yeah, real great," Jim muttered.
There was the sound of a chair scraping just ever so slightly, and Jim grunted. If she had to guess, Sarah had kicked his shin. At this, Jim put his fork down, forcing a pleasant smile to his face.
"So, forgive me, but I haven't had a chance to read it. What exactly did you write about?" he asked.
"It's an autobiography. You know, a tawdry tell-all," Joker replied, winking at Barbara.
Barbara put every fiber of being into not blushing. Jim, meanwhile, seemed not to have noticed. Instead, with deliberate, measured moments, he picked back up his fork. Methodically, while staring down at his plate, he cut into a piece of ham. Still, without looking back up at him, he said, "Uh-huh. So, you tell it all, do you? Every little bit?"
Her stomach tightened. "Dad," she said.
"It's all right, m'dear," Joker said, solemnly setting down his silverware. "Your poor ol' Dad has seen some… well, some pretty rough stuff done by yours truly. I won't deny it. I… Well, frankly, I'm ashamed. Truth be told, I almost called to simply ask Barbara to come by the penthouse later. But no, I said to myself, no. It's important to Babs that we're all able to be in the same room and be civil. So, if you'd like to know what I wrote about in my book, Commissioner, ask away. I won't flinch, and I'll be honest."
While still looking like he could explode any minute, Jim also looked a touch deflated. Sarah, ever the mediator, offered a small smile to the former Clown Prince.
"You're not here for an interrogation. Regardless of how that sounded. It's Christmas. We're here to have dinner and be with family. I'm not meaning to pry, but trying to shift gears on subjects… did you get Barbara a gift?"
Joker laughed his restrained laugh. "I did. Actually… I thought it would be nice if we took our first trip together. I rented a cabin out in the more scenic parts of the state. Only be gone about a week, back well before classes start."
Jim opened his mouth, undoubtedly, to protest, when Sarah rest a hand on his. "That's sound lovely. When would you two leave?"
At this, Joker looked a touch sheepish. It was new look for him, and it made Barbara want to laugh. He turned to her, an eyebrow quirked. "Well, later tonight, if that's okay."
Her eyes went wide, as well as everyone else's at the table. Jim, once more, started to protest. And, yet again, Sarah cut her husband off.
"Barbara is an adult," she said, more to Jim than to anyone else. Then she added, speaking to Barbara, "If you want to accept his gift, that's up to you."
Barbara blinked, feeling like she had just spun in circles. That small, suspicious voice was back in her head, whispering doubts. Then again, when she looked over at him, she couldn't help but smile. Maybe… maybe a little time away from the rat race was what she needed.
"After dessert?" she said. "And I'd have to pack."
"Of course," Joker announced.
Dinner flew by after that, and Barbara rushed to pack for a sudden week-long vacation with her boyfriend. She really didn't like the idea of keeping Joker alone with her parents for too long, so she packed faster than she ever had in her life. The last item she grabbed was the gift she had gotten for the Joker—well, the one she knew she couldn't let him open in front of her parents. She would grab the family-safe gift that was still under the tree on the way out the door. Double checking her bags—she had managed to pack a whole week's worth of items into just two duffles—she made her way out to the living room.
Jim and Sarah stood near to the kitchen, while Joker had moved closer to the living room. Jim's arms were crossed over his chest.
"You're taking your phone, right?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes and not caring that he saw.
"You should go in your car."
He stared pointedly at Joker, who flashed a good-natured grin at the patriarch.
"I promise that Barbara will be in safe hands. Besides, I already have Chauncey outside waiting on us."
"I'll be fine," she said, hugging both her dad and Sarah. "See you in a week!"
They were out the door—her grabbing the other gift as she went—and in the limo and pulling away in moments. The partition was up, and Joker flashed her a devious grin.
"The trip was part one of your gift. You'll get the other when we get there."
"Okay," Barbara said cautiously. "Do you want your gifts?"
He clapped his hands gleefully. "Yes, I do. Gimme, gimme!"
She passed him the safer one first. He tore at the paper to reveal a long, slender black box. Lifting the lid of it, he found a quill and an ink pot inside.
"You know… since you're a writer now," she said.
"Oh, Babsy… I love it."
She smiled, holding up a single finger. "I've got one more for you. This one I couldn't let you open in front of Dad and Sarah."
"Oooh…"
She handed him the box, laughing as he seemed to tear into this one like he was a beast. Once he saw the contents inside, he arched a brow. He reached down and lifted up a purple, lacy piece of lingerie that looked like it was little more than decoration for a body, let alone sleepwear.
"I hate to sound ungrateful, m'dear, but I do believe you've gotten my size wrong."
Barbara laughed, shaking her head. She snatched the piece out of his hands, letting it dangle off her index finger.
"It's not fitted to you. I thought you might enjoy unwrapping one more thing tonight. Plus, I paid a little extra to have something added to it."
She held the strap that would go over her left shoulder up for inspection where, embroidered on the fabric in acid green thread was the letter J. Joker suddenly stared at the piece like he was a starving man at a feast.
"You little minx…" he muttered, his voice guttural in a way that made her squirm. "Seems we were of like minds, once again."
She shot him a questioning glance. "How so?"
He chuckled low in his throat. "Wait till we get to the cabin. You'll have to see it to believe it."
Barbara felt the need to squirm again, and she was sure that her underwear was starting to feel a little damp. This was going to be the most fun she had had on Christmas in a long time.