Jump Chapter Eleven
Enlightenment Universe, in chronological order:
Enlightenment + Enlightenment Extra (containing M chapters that fit into Enlightenment)
Magnification (the whole story is M, but not all chapters are, and this one is still in progress)
Jump + Jump Journal (containing M chapter that fit into Jump, also still in progress)
# * # * # * #
Apparently there was really only so much of the Castle-Rogers family Kate could take on any given holiday.
Fine. Rick was wearing an apron that clearly stated: "I'm a breast man." She could handle turkey humor.
And Alexis insisted on playing Christmas music all day long while they were cooking. Also relatively understandable on its own, though Kate generally had a strict no-Christmas-until-after-Thanksgiving rule. And it hadn't interfered with her concentration making her mother's blackberry pie.
But when Elvis started crooning "Blue Christmas" for the second time, and Martha came at her with the giant turkey hat—turkey wearing a chef's hat and apron and carrying a carving fork no less—she just sort of cracked. It was a very subdued psychotic break, she thought, at least as psychotic breaks go. Smiling really wide, she had redirected the hat on to Martha's bare head and excused herself to the master bath to… breathe. Yes. Breathe. Not bang her forehead repeatedly against the granite countertop.
With only an hour to go until the guests arrived, Kate had plenty of kitchen tasks to occupy her. She could totally get through without committing a felony.
Oh but if she had to hear Alvin and the Chipmunks one more time, she was going to rip the speakers out of the frakkin' wall.
She turned to Boba Fett with a glare.
"They wouldn't try to make you wear a stupid turkey hat."
Great, now she was talking to inanimate objects. She had to get this thing moved out of their bathroom. And why was this all bothering her so much, anyway?
"You know you don't have to wear that turkey hat. Mother was just being Mother: ridiculously festive to overcompensate for never actually making Thanksgiving dinner during my childhood."
Kate wheeled around to find her fiancé, sans silly apron, leaning against the doorjamb, a wrinkle between his brows.
Oh, she didn't want him to worry. This wasn't a big deal, just a little only child family holiday overload.
Crossing to him, she slid her hands around his waist, pressed herself against him.
"I know."
The wrinkle still hadn't smoothed.
"Everything okay?"
Not really. Sort of. Maybe. Absolutely no clue why it wouldn't be.
"Yeah. Fine. I just… it's a lot of tradition to walk in on."
Where the hell had that come from?
His eyes softened then, brow lifted.
"I guess it is."
Wrapping his arms around her, sliding one wide palm up her backbone, letting it rest between her shoulder blades, he took a long breath and continued.
"We do have our way of doing things. Since it's been just me and Alexis most of the time, we sort of have the routine down. It's easy to forget that other people probably have other traditions, other ways of doing things." He paused to press his lips to her forehead. "I didn't even ask you about how you wanted to do things today. I'm sorry."
Her heart melted hearing his apology, the one she hadn't even realized she needed until he figured it out for her.
"Don't apologize for letting me be a part of your family's traditions, Rick. I love that you and Alexis and Martha have them, and that you still do them together. I'm honored to be a part of it."
"Okay, I won't apologize for letting you in on the craziness that is the Castle-Rogers family at Thanksgiving. But you're not just becoming part of our family, you know."
His fingers brushed a lock of hair gently behind her ear as he tipped his head to catch her eyes.
"We're making a brand new family, together."
That was the thousand watt smile, the one that she couldn't resist answering.
"So from now on, for every crazy Castle thing we make you do, you have to share one Beckett family tradition with us."
Her parents and she had made dinner every year, but none of what they did really seemed like it qualified as a tradition.
"We didn't really have any traditions like you guys, though."
Letting go of his hold on her, he slid one hand into hers and tugged her back out through the bedroom.
"Sure you did. Just because they weren't loud, obnoxious, or dramatic, doesn't mean they weren't traditions. Who made dinner? What did you have?"
"We all cooked. Mom always got up early to start the turkey and dressing. Dad mashed the sweet potatoes. I usually had vegetable duty—squash or green beans or asparagus depending on the year."
Martha had taken over stirring the cranberries at the stove with Alexis watching like a hawk from her spot at the cutting board.
"Alexis would never let me make squash for Thanksgiving. Said it tasted like medicine."
"Dad, that was when I was five!"
Looking pointedly at the pile of beans she was snapping and dropping into the large pot, he raised an eyebrow and turned to Kate.
"And yet every year we still have green beans…"
The blushing huff of frustration from the redhead prompted a giggle from Kate, which spurred Alexis to ping a green bean off the back of her father's head. His jolt of shock followed by slantingly vengeful glare in his daughter's direction brought out a full belly laugh.
Soon Rick was hurling sprigs of parsley and chasing the girl around the island, and none of the ridiculous Castleness mattered anymore. She grabbed a handful of grapes from the fruit salad prep pile and lobbed one at each of them, beaning Rick on the forehead and catching Alexis on the nose.
Both of them stopped in their tracks, eyes going wide as they looked conspiratorially at one another, and then they turned on her and parsley and green beans rained down.
"Oh, Kate, darling. I should have warned you. Never, ever, take on both Castles in a food fight in their own kitchen. It never ends well, for you or for the dinner."
But Kate was no wilting flower. Ducking around the other side of the island and using Martha for cover, she managed to get to the sink and grab the spray nozzle. Brandishing it in the direction of her attackers, she called out in her best NYPD raid voice.
"Everybody freeze! Hand over the vegetables, and nobody gets wet."
Alexis actually put her hands up with a sheepish smile on her face. Turning to Rick, who also seemed to be acquiescing by raising his hands above his head, she was not expecting the entire handful of wet parsley to whack her in the face. She squeezed the lever and sprayed him just as a new volley of green beans tips and tails hit her in the back of the head. Rounding on Alexis, Kate sprayed her apron, but was taken by surprise when Rick grabbed her from behind and hauled her up in the air, allowing the teen to disarm her.
It took a stern glare and a rather dictatorial tone from Martha to catch their attention.
"Now children, behave yourselves! There is work to be done in this kitchen, and unless you want me finishing up your Thanksgiving dinner, put down the sprayer and clean up this mess you've made."
Staring blankly in her direction, Rick piped up incredulously.
"Mother, that almost sounded like you've actually scolded children before."
"I'm practicing for a new role as Rose in Gypsy. Pretty convincing, eh?"
# * # * # * #
Two hours later, with clothes changed and kitchen tidied just in time for their guests' arrival, only the final touches were left to complete their meal. Kate was carrying hot cider over to Dora and Martha, who had been talking quietly in front of the bookcases in the office. She stopped short just out of their line of sight as she caught a few words of their conversation.
"Are you nervous about Monday?"
"Oh, no. Everyone tells me the radiation will be the easiest part of this whole cancer business. In and out at each session, finished in a few weeks."
Though she knew she should announce herself or step away, Kate was frozen to the floor.
"Well, you sure are takin' it better than my sister, Betty. She was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin' chairs before her first session. She was convinced that her ladies were going to start glowing in the dark!"
Martha laughed aloud then, and it was more than just the tight chuckle she usually managed when discussing anything about her therapy.
"But seriously, Martha, Betty had one of the types that meant she had to have surgery and chemo and radiation, and she did say that the radiation was the easiest part-not a single side effect, other than the tingle she got from her doctor, that is. Used to say she was going in for her daily dose of her hot radiologist. Went with her to her last session just so I could meet Dr. McDreamy in the flesh, and she wasn't kidding-the boy was a big scoop of yummy with whipped cream and a cherry on top."
Thinking now was probably as good a time as any to announce herself, Kate cleared her throat and walked past the open bookcases.
"Ladies, I have some cider here for you."
The two of them were grinning conspiratorially, Dora's hand resting on Martha's forearm.
"Well, isn't that warm and toasty on this chilly day. Thank you, Katie darlin'."
Kate smiled. The warmth in this room had nothing to do with the cider.
# * # * # * #
As the six of them settled into their chairs, feast laid out before them, Dora spoke up from her corner of the table.
"Do you all mind if I say grace before we start? This was one of my family traditions back in Texas. Now grab hands with your neighbors."
Kate took Rick's hand, and her father's, held them both, light and warm in hers. It felt right to do this, even though none of them was particularly religious. Something about the gesture of gratitude and communion settled her heart, the connection among them at that moment not only symbolic but also physical.
"We give thanks today for this beautiful meal and all the brilliant hands and hearts that prepared it. We remember those who are not here, and those not so fortunate to have such a feast of friendship. We are thankful, too, for this chance to sit in the presence of these friends-and ever-growing family-that we have made together." Rick squeezed tight on her gathered fingers, making Kate smile and clench back. "May we all meet again next year around so bountiful a table, healthy, happy, and grateful to be so. And in the words of my Great-Grand-Daddy Spot, God rest his soul, who said the same gosh-darn blessing every single week at Sunday dinner: "Good bread, good meat, good God, let's eat!"
When their eyes rose, all smiling, Kate was not surprised to see a few blinking suspiciously, including her fiance. Traditions, it seemed, weren't so hard to start, after all.
# * # * # * #
Stomachs full and brains hazy from tryptophan, the permanent inhabitants of the loft were snuggled and draped over couch and chairs, dozing gently. Kate was roused from a half-dream involving being kicked-from the inside of her very pregnant belly. Shaking her head in confusion, half-shrouded in the depths of sleep, she remembered the last images of her dream. She was reaching for Rick's hand, laying it gently over the spot high on one side, seeing a smile light up his whole face like none she'd ever seen before.
Jerking fully awake, she slipped a down into the blankets, nearly convinced she would find a swollen mound bumping up against rounder, heavier breasts. When instead she found the same flat expanse of her stomach that she'd fallen asleep with, albeit slightly distended by that second helping of blackberry pie, being nudged by the warm tangle of Rick's feet under the throw, her heart clenched in... relief? That must explain the breathless stutter, the tumble and flutter of her stomach.
Trying to reassure herself further, she lifted the blanket, ducked her head underneath. No baby bump.
But god, she wanted to make him smile that way.
"Is everything alright, dear?"
Martha's stage whisper was slightly muffled by the blanket still stretched over Kate's head, but that made it no less effective in startling her from her daze. Why was Martha even awake? Kate could have sworn she was snoring the last time... Okay, time to get out from under the blanket and face the mother-in-law...
Static electricity sparked as the fleece ruffled her hair, and then Martha came into view, curled up in an armchair with a blanket covering most of her.
Still slightly off and not yet surfacing from her dream, Kate was slow to answer with sleep-roughened words.
"Fine, uh, yeah, everything is... Fine."
The pitch of her voice had turned the last word into a question.
"Bad dream?"
"No, it was a... It was a good dream, actually."
And just like that, she realized that it was.
The matriarch gave Kate a knowing smile, eyes darting to where Kate's hand still rested against her stomach, rubbing absently.
"Those are always the worst to wake up from, aren't they?"
Still a little unsteady, Kate smiled back, wary of just how well this family might really know her.
Martha unfolded herself from her chair and crossed to Alexis, rubbing the young woman's pajama-clad shoulder.
"Come on, kiddo. Time for bed."
Alexis rose and shuffled over place a kiss on her still-sleeping father's cheek.
"Night, Dad."
The magic of paternal instinct had him immediately awake, though his reflex to straighten his body resulted in another kick to Kate' side. Her grumble of protest was lost in the hugs and kisses and words of goodnight among them all, and she soon found herself snug in their bed, head resting against his chest, limbs curving over his body, side flush with his warm mass.
"Today was a good day."
By the abrupt rise of his chest under her ear, Kate could tell he must have already been drifting off when she spoke. His answer rumbled gently through his ribs to her ear.
"Yeah, it was. Maybe even-" a yawn broke through "-the best Thanksgiving ever."
Despite his proclivity for exaggeration, something in his voice told her the statement was genuine. This was how it always happened-he opened her up, made her want to share, to give back some tiny measure of all he gave her every day.
"I remembered something we used to do. Not really a tradition, just what we did."
His hand stroked warm over the small of her back, the broad expanse of his fingers nearly spanning the narrow of her waist.
"What was it?"
"The Macy's Parade."
"You used to go to the parade?" His hand found the edge of her t-shirt and slipped underneath to continue its earlier movement, soothing, distracting.
"No-we just watched it on TV. No matter what my mom was in the middle of, stuffing the turkey-anything, she would drop it all and run into the room when the Rockettes came on."
The memory made her smile. It usually involved her snapping green beans into a pot while sitting on the couch, keeping an eye out for the first sign of the long-legged troop of dancers to hit Herald Square.
"Did you ever go see them at Radio City?" The low tone was one he used whenever they mentioned her mother. It hit her then that talking about her mom had slowly gotten easier, less likely to make her shut down or run.
"Sure, when I was about eight or nine."
The memory was mostly of her mother walking her up by the stage before the performance, leaning almost over backward to follow the curving arc of the proscenium at Radio City. When the lights went down, and her mom took her hand in the dark, the dots of colorful costumes, all exactly alike, appeared as the curtain parted, shining under the lights. And there was the kick line-every girl perfectly in line with the next, toes peaking at eye level in disciplined, practiced precision. It had almost made her want to take tap dancing lessons. Almost.
Head now just slightly off the pillow, Rick spoke against the crown of her head, words hopeful and soft.
"Do you want to see them again?"
She could, Kate realized. She could go see the Rockettes and think of her mom, and not fall apart. Trying not to let her trepidation show, she smiled against his chest and took a deep breath.
"That might be fun, actually."
That set him to full-on ecstatic mode, propped up on elbows, disrupting her comfiest sleeping spot.
"You know they give a backstage tour-you get to meet the camels!"
Oh, what had she done?
"Camels spit, so I'm not sure that's a great idea."
Giving up on her immediate chance for slumber on top of her man-pillow, she rolled onto one elbow to face him. That little squint of his eyes and the purse of his mouth always preceded a differing opinion.
"I thought it was just llamas that spit?"
Oh good grief. That warranted a good, long eye roll before she answered.
"They both do. Trust me, I have met a camel."
"Where, exactly did you meet a camel, and why are we debating the spitting habits of Camelidae, again?"
"I have absolutely no idea, but this is not the time for the story of Kate and the camel." She pushed through his petulant little frown. "And please let's stop before I end up dreaming of llamas."
Flopping back on her actual pillow, she stretched, let her muscles bunch and relax. Rolling to face her, he propped his head on one hand and pinned her with his question.
"Why would you do that?"
This was her opportunity to bring it up, get it out there that she was having crazy pregnant dreams, discuss the implications, the reasons why. But at the last second, she chickened out, giving in to the little voice that kept telling her that some things weren't meant to be shared, especially when they involved a ridiculous dream that meant absolutely nothing, and probably only happened because of Dora's comment about families growing and then Rick kicking her on the sofa while she was sleeping, and what did any of that have to do with reality, anyway? It was just a dream. Rick's increasingly inquisitive look told her she had been silent a little too long,
"Oh, no reason. I've just had some strange dreams lately. Probably just the second helping of pie."
A wave of cowardice and remorse washed over her, and maybe he could see that, maybe he picked up on her tells, decided to let her off the hook for once, because his eyebrows slowly rose, and a wicked glint sparked his eyes to blue.
"Any of them involve me and sexy lingerie?"
With equal parts gratitude and guilt, she fell back on her old standby, smirked at his perfect set-up.
"I'm sure Dora would be happy to sell you some, but she might not have much in your size."
Matching her pose, he flopped back on his pillow in frustration.
"Ack! No! Not what I meant. Never mind!"
With a huff, he turned on his side to face the wall. Vowing to tell him sometime soon, she ran her fingers through his hair, relying on the motion to calm him.
"Go to sleep, Castle."
"Fine, fine. But now I'm going to dream about llamas doing high-kicks in lingerie."
Rolling to curve behind him, she snuck an arm around his ribcage, snarked quietly in his ear.
"Always gotta take it one step too far..."
Snuggling back against her, he turned and kissed the inner curve of her arm where it wrapped around. His warm breath set off goosebumps as he spoke quietly into her skin.
"Better than not far enough."
A/N: This is obscenely overdue, not just because Thanksgiving happened almost a week ago, but because the last time I posted a chapter of this story was in AUGUST. Sorry, dear readers. I shall try to put out the next chapter before SPRING.
Thanks to all who have read this ever-elongating series of stories. Are you guys still with me?
This is un-betaed, so mistakes are all mine.
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