Chapter Seven
The characters are massively out of character in this one guys, and I apologize for that. I did however, have a massively fun time writing it, so there is that :) Sorry it took so long! This one takes place the evening before Christmas Eve.
I don't own the Penderwicks.
The days that followed were blissfully simple, full of laughter and friends and soccer in the snow. And this easy rhythm of life continued until Cagney appeared at the door of the butter yellow cottage the morning before Christmas Eve with an invite on heavy stationary and in thickly slanted cursive. The invite was for the entire family (including Daddy and Iantha!) declaring a Christmas party as glamorous as the hostess herself. The family knew about the party ahead of time, from Jeffrey of course, but a formal invite from Mrs. Tifton was less than expected.
"I am telling you it is a trap," Skye groaned as Jane pulled her into yet another boutique on the local main street. This one look the same to Skye as all the rest had, dressed in green and red and twinkling lights that all bombard your senses. Jane thought they were all "quite quaint" (Jane was playing with alliteration as she prepared for her poetry slam). Just how Skye got dragged into such business of dress shopping was beyond her. "Mrs. Tifton is going to get all of the Penderwicks into one room and then she is going to annihilate us all."
Jane was unfazed by her sister's pessimism. "Honestly Skye, perhaps she is just in the Christmas spirit. It does wonders on people, really." Jane gasped then, dramatically, and with her eyes twinkling held a dress up to Skye.
"You are out of your mind," Skye said, but before she could backpedal out of the precariously tight isle of dresses, Jane caught her arm.
"Oh not you don't. You are trying this dress on."
"Honestly Tommy, you have made a mess of this," Rosalind mumbled. She was standing facing him in the doorjamb of her room, attempting to figure out just how he managed to get his bowtie so gnarled. He gave her a sheepish half smile to which she rolled her eyes before setting her nimble fingers to work at the knot. It took a few minutes of attempting to detangle the limp bowtie while also ignoring Tommy's eyes on her and the smell of his toothpaste on her cheek, but Rosalind managed.
"There," she smoothed it into place and then let her eyes finally slide up to meet his. She found the look there that she expected to find; sweet and passionate but combined with enough boyish awkwardness to make her want to roll her eyes at him and kiss him at the same time.
She did both at once, rolling her eyes just before they fell shut and her lips found his. It was a good kiss, warm and deep. She twisted her arms upward around his neck, like a flower reaching for sunlight, and Tommy stumbled a bit reaching forward to wrap her arms around her waist. It was one of those kisses that was inquisitive and wondering and that lingered on Tommy's lips like a question mark. Questions he could spend hours trying to answer. But he never got the chance because there was a sound behind them then, that of a throat being cleared, and Tommy jumped away from Rosalind.
"Am I interrupting?" Mr. Penderwick looked very serious, but there was a twinkle of mischief in his eye. Rosalind bit back a giggle as she watched Tommy's face turn a deep shade of pink.
"See sir we were just- I mean the bowtie just-" He looked at Mr. Penderwick a little hopelessly. "I think I will wait downstairs," he said finally, hurrying for the staircase in a fashion that reminded Rosalind a bit of a small puppy hurrying away with his ears down and tail behind his legs.
Mr. Penderwick turned to Rosalind then. "Am I really that intimidating?" he asked. His eyes were laughing now, but his mouth was still set seriously.
Rosalind giggled out loud then, with Tommy out of earshot. "Of course not. He is just…" she sighed and gave a little shrug that was half annoyed and half fond. "… just Tommy."
"Ah," Mr. Penderwick said, smiling.
"Do you need help with you bowtie too?" Rosalind asked, noting the limp black bowtie that hung loose around his neck.
"Yes, please. I have never gotten that hang of these things," he said. Rosalind laughed, remembering his aversion to such things during his whole dating fiasco so many years ago. She tied it quickly and cleanly, ignoring her father's nostalgic look as she did so.
"Where did you learn how to do that Rosy?" he asked.
Rosalind smoothed the knot and then looked up at him carefully. "I must have picked it up somewhere."
"Did mom teach you how to do that?" he asked, softly.
Rosalind sighed and nodded. Mr. Penderwick leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "My darling Rosy," he said. "You look beautiful."
The family gathered in the kitchen that seemed alive with warm lamp light and the bustle that always seems to precede events like this one. Batty was darling in a deep, velvety green dress and matching bow in her hair. Ben was protesting as Iantha tried to comb his. Tommy was standing around with his hands shoved awkwardly in his pockets and his ears and cheeks bright red as if he had been out in the cold too long. He was careful to keep his eyes from resting on Rosalind too long as she pulled a hot pumpkin pie (intended to be a peace offering for Mrs. Tifton when they arrive at the party) from the oven. The spicy smell filled the room and was reminiscent of something deep and dark and rich [Jeffrey would later describe it as reminding him of jazz music and would get jabbed by Skye for this]. Jane sat at the kitchen table in the middle of it all in a rather unceremonious fashion, slumped over her blue notebook and lost in her world of words. She was beautiful wreck in her bright red dress and lipstick and tongue stuck out to one side in concentration.
Skye was the last one down. She wore a snow white dress, simple and knee length, and she was stunning. She was fidgeting with a simple strand of pearls that Jane had insisted she wear when she felt Rosalind's warm hand on her shoulder. "You look great. Act like it," she whispered into the curve of Skye's ear. She didn't say it harshly, but with a firm resolve to bestow sisterly advice upon Skye. Skye looked up uncertainly and Rosalind gave her a firm nod.
It took some time to get the whole Penderwick family out into the snow with coats, and mittens and hats, but once they got out into the quiet cold, a happy peace filled the absence of the bustle of the kitchen before. Mr. Penderwick held a gas lantern in one hand to light their way, but the moon and stars reflecting off the snow made it hardly necessary.
Ben walked between Mr. Penderwick and Iantha, holding each of their hands and insisting on being swung along. Rosalind and Tommy walked a bit ahead of them, and when Tommy made a sweet, stumbling comment about the way the snowflakes caught in her hair, she took his hand. Tommy's face turned red all over again. Skye and Jane and Batty were walking out in front and were the first to get a glimpse of Arundel Hall, as it came into view through the trees.
The place was lit up impressively. Every shrub on the grounds was dripping in twinkling white lights and large heavy wreaths hung in every window. Lazy, jazzy Christmas music was drifting out onto the front lawn from somewhere inside. And Arundel Hall was busy. Black limousines formed an impressive line as they dropped off men in sleek black tuxes and women in deep greens and bright reds and elegant black.
Skye was the first to speak for the little Penderwick caravan that had come to a breathless halt at the tree line. "Holy bananas," she said. It was Jane however, to pull them all from their stupor and drag them to the front steps where Mr. Tifton herself was standing.
Mrs. Tifton regarded the group carefully through narrowed eyes. They rested finally on Skye, and when she opened her mouth to speak, Mrs. Tifton hesitated. Skye offered up some help. "Blue eyes, blue sky," she said, pointing to herself as she always did to demonstrate.
"Mrs. Penderwick, I am well aware of your name," she said, and then added, under her breath, "It seems to be the only thing I hear about." Skye smirked.
Iantha stepped up then, looking stunning in her cream dress and holding up the pumpkin pie. "I don't believe we have met before," she said, boldly offering a hand in greeting. The girls all felt their jaws go slack when, after a moment of strict scrutiny, Mrs. Tifton's look of disapproval became almost close to something like approval and she took Iantha's hand.
"Please call me Iantha."
"Brenda. Pleasure."
Iantha turned to the girls and waved them on inside. "Go on," she said. "I think we could use some time to become acquainted."
The girls closed their mouths and hurried inside, exchanging looks of awe and relief that they had dodged the bullet that was Mrs. Tifton. The girls followed the crowd into the massive drawing room. The room was lit by a massive chandelier that reflected in the well-polished marble floor. Everything was draped in reds and greens and against the wall with the floor length windows that overlooked the glittering gardens, was a fifteen piece big band playing Christmas songs. At the center of the room was a Christmas tree that was bigger than any they had seen before.
Jane gasped dramatically and turned in a slow circle taking the whole scene in. "I have stumbled into a real live party at Gatsby's," she said breathlessly. Skye rolled her eyes and let Jane get swept away by the swirling crowd. Batty, eyes wide, wandered off in the direction of the band as if drawn to some magnetic force. Rosalind pulled and unsuspecting Tommy to the dance floor. Skye was left searching the crowd for a particular freckled face.
"Skye Penderwick? In a dress? Can't be." Skye turned around to find a smiling Jeffrey Tifton in front of her in a slim cut tux that was not black like everyone else's but was rather a dark velvety green like Batty's dress. It made his eyes an even more shocking color, like emeralds set in pale skin. She punched his shoulder.
"This is… something," she said, looking around her at all of the unfamiliar faces. Surely the Tiftons didn't know all of them.
"A Victorian form of torture?" Jeffrey offered. "I swear my mother has invited every single person that she has ever some in contact with. Like that man there." Jeffrey pointed to a bald fidgety man. "He was my dentist when I was like, six, but I haven't seen him since." They both laughed.
Skye looked back at the crowd waltzing in slow lazy circles around on the marble dance floor. Her mind became lazy and her thoughts as fluid as the motions of the dancers. Her mind drifted to the boy in front of her and the time not so long ago when they met for the first time in a hedge tunnel just outside of those long windows.
"Skye, dance with me," Jeffrey said then, suddenly. Skye was ripped back to the present.
"What I- no. I don't dance, remember?" Skye suddenly realized that the crowd of people had pushed her and Jeffrey closer together and she took a hasty step back.
Jeffrey laughed, obviously thinking back to the time out on the veranda so many years ago. "I remember. Will you can't dance with me then?"
It took Skye a long moment to decipher this. It was treacherously good line. "There are so many people here Jeffrey…" She was stalling and he knew it.
He bit his lip in thought and then his eyes lit up. "I have an idea then." Jeffrey took Skye y the wrist and tugged her away from the throws of people.
"Jeffrey…" Skye was shaking her head as he pulled her along, but was also smiling slightly.
Jeffrey pulled her to the big French doors that lead to the veranda, turning heads of other party goers as he threw them open with unapologetic grandeur. When Skye and Jeffrey stepped out onto the veranda and the French doors were shut behind them, the sounds of the party and band were swallowed up by a shockingly silent night. Little white lights were strung up over their heads and the bitter cold air was almost a relief after being in such a crowded room moments before.
Jeffrey let go of Skye's wrist and turned to face her, grinning like an idiot. "See? No people out here."
"No music to dance to either stupid," Skye said, but she was smiling.
"We can make our own."
Jeffrey took a deep, dramatic bow and held his hand out to Skye. She took it, rolling her eyes as she did so. Jeffrey began humming a song that was slow and a little sad and he began to sway, a little awkwardly. Skye's eyes might have been caught in a perpetual roll, but try as she might, she couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from tugging up into a ghost of a smile. Jeffrey pulled her into him and Skye found her arms around his neck and his hands on her hips and her heart in her throat.
"This isn't even Christmas music," she said, for the sake of throwing words at the awkward situation.
"No," he agreed. "It is the piece that my dad wrote. The one I found in that trunk?"
"Oh." Skye fumbled and wished that they weren't in such close proximity so that she could look away from him. So she wouldn't be able to see the pain that flicked across his face.
She knew that she ought to let the situation go then, but she was never that girl. "Is he coming tonight?"
Jeffrey shook his head. "He wasn't invited. And even if he was, why would he show up now, after all these years?"
"Jeffrey…" Skye said trailing off. He was being unfair and he knew it.
"No. I am sorry."
"It is ok." There was a long moment where they just looked at each other.
"Let's just dance," Jeffrey offered.
So they danced. They danced like they were eleven again. And when she laughed his heart went "Oh! There you are."
They were two silhouettes, spinning, dancing in step. He was elegant in his moves. She was not. She let him lead for once. Their bones didn't feel so old anymore. They felt young, for the first time in too long.
He wondered when her limbs became so long and slender and coordinated. Just yesterday she was all knobby knees and legs that she didn't quite know how to keep under her. She wondered when he gotten so tall. Just yesterday she was taller than him.
The song trickled out. Skye rested her head on Jeffrey's chest, tucked under his jaw. She felt awkward but there was no other immediately available place to put it and he was warm. He needed to shave, but she wasn't bothered by the stubble. It tickled.
One of the big French doors opened then with a click that made them both jump apart.
"Jeffrey Tifton?" A waiter, dressed in a tux that made him look vaguely like a penguin was standing stiffly at the door. "Your mother has asked for your presence at the front door. There is a… unexpected… visitor."
Jeffrey looked at Skye in confusion. "All of Massachusetts is here, how can there possibly be an…"
He watched as realization formed on Skye's face. "Alec?" she asked.
It took a slit second for the idea to take root in Jeffrey's mind and a slit second longer for his eyes to darken. He turned on his heel and marched inside, with Skye close behind. She called his name, begging him to think rationally (who would have thought that their roles would reverse someday?) but it fell on deaf ears.
When they reached the foyer, they found Mrs. Tifton standing defiantly in the door and Alec standing out in the cold in a slightly rumpled tuxedo.
"Your turn to see Jeffrey is in the summer, not now. You are unwelcomed here," Mrs. Tifton said, her voice high and sharp.
"Brenda, I just wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas. Don't you think I have the right?"
"You have no right-"
Jeffrey pushed forward towards the door before Skye could catch his arm. Alec's face lit up when he saw Jeffrey appear over Mrs. Tifton's shoulder. "Jeffrey!"
"You need to leave," Jeffrey said. He didn't sound as vindictive as he had out on the Veranda, but he sounded tired.
Skye managed to break away from the crowd of nosey spectators forming and hurried to take up the place at Jeffrey's side. "Jeffrey, think about this-" She was cut off by Alec.
"Jeffrey I just wanted to see you for Christmas. I-" Alec started.
Jeffrey would hear none of it. "Why not all the other Christmases Alec!? You have missed 16 others!"
Alec shook his head hard in protest and tried to take an unsuccessful step around Mrs. Tifton. "Jeffrey, I didn't know you existed! And I don't think that blaming me for that is exactly justified, do you?"
Jeffrey narrowed his eyes. "You would if you would have stuck around. Get out."
Alec took a long look at his son, and on his usually hopeful face, a look of defeat formed.
"Jeffrey!" Skye said, desperately trying to get through to him. "You are being unfair and you know it-"
Jeffrey spun around to look at her, his eyes wild and so uncharacteristically like Skye herself. "Skye, I think it is best if you go too."
Skye reeled like she had been slapped in the face. She felt her insides constrict as if this thing, this new feeling that was growing in her belly since she tackled him with a hug in the snow, threatened to overtake her. As her heart threatened to choke her. And this thing had a name that Skye, though still unable to get her lips around, for once let herself feel fully.
It seemed as though the entire party has congregated in the foyer now to watch the scene unfold. Jane made use of her still knobby elbows and pushed her way to the front, taking a protective position at Skye's side, looping an arm around her shoulder. Skye shook her head and shrugged Jane off.
"If that is what you want," she said, addressing Jeffrey with eyes that were ice.
He looked at her through tired eyes. "That is what I want."
So Skye went, pushing past Mrs. Tifton and Alec that was still standing dumbfounded and frozen in the snow. And she went with the heavy feeling in her heart threatening to make hot tears spill over the confines of her eyes.
Skye was a dark silhouette against the window that was lighted by pale blue moonlight. The window was cracked open, despite the biting cold of the air outside. Skye stood leaning on the windowsill with her elbows, the chipping white paint digging into her skin. Her forehead was pressed to the glass, frosty with her warm breath. Her blue gaze was focused across the lawn, over the hedge, and at the sliver of a window all light up with butter yellow light. It was a window she had crawled through before. A window to a warmly lit room where a boy, still in his emerald tuxedo with the bowtie hanging limp and his hair disheveled was bent over a piano.
And he played a sad tune that she had heard just moments ago (moments that felt like years) waltzing around on the veranda. It was sad, yes, but a hopeful kind of sad. The kind that just takes time.
She felt every note in her bones.
She felt every note in the space between her lungs and behind her rib cage.
She never understood what people meant when the talked about broken and bleeding hearts. Surely if the person using such an atrocious metaphor was still alive their heart was not broken but working just fine. And the heart isn't bleeding so much as it is pumping blood. Or so she learned from her many science textbooks over the years. But this feeling now, couldn't be defined in the back of an encyclopedia or her anatomy book.
Skye Penderwick came to a very unfortunate conclusion and it hit her like in a way that was almost physically painful. And before Skye could comprehend the feeling, before the idea was tangible enough to reach out and grasp, there was a knock at the door.
"Skye?" Rosalind asked gently. She slipped through the door and Jane followed her in.
Skye's slender frame, that always stood so steady and straight up with pride, began to tremble. She began to doubt he foundation she was rooted in. Surely this would mean structural damage. Her walls were tumbling down.
"Oh baby," Rosalind whispered, rushing forward to catch her sister's swaying form.
"I love him," Skye said. It wasn't a typical Skye thing to say, but she said it in typical Skye fashion, spitting the words out like an accusation. Like it was his fault. It wasn't really. While Skye might not believe in things like fate or luck, Rosalind did (she was always more like Jane that way). Skye and Jeffrey were a fated thing. The fault was in the stars.
"I know, baby."
Jane approached the two tentatively. And because she was always better at poetry and written things than actual conversation, she recited a part of her beloved poem she was working on for the poetry slam. "It takes me away to a time when saying I love you had no hidden meanings. When we fought with wooden swords because we didn't know the implications of death and we promised away our forever because we didn't understand the breadth of our words." She looked up at Skye expectantly, as if waiting for approval or a notion that her words had given the comfort she hoped they would.
Skye gave her a small smile. "Jane you are going to kick butt on that poetry contest tomorrow."
That was all Jane needed. She rushed to join the group hug at the window and they all stood, clinging to each other and staring at the sliver of light from Jeffrey's window until Skye's knees remembered what it meant to stand. But already, Skye's heart couldn't remember what it was like to not feel. To be indifferent. Stoic. She was too far gone.
Sorry Skye is so sappy (oops). You may recognize the portion of Jane's poem there from an earlier upload of mine. That is in fact the poem I intend on having Jane recite at the contest, so if you read Jane's Poem, then you have a little sneak peak. There are a handful of references in here to works that are not the Penderwicks and are not my own. The most obvious is the Fault in Our Stars by John Green who is a better writer than I can ever hope to be and I highly suggest you check out. The conversation between Rosalind and Mr. Penderwick about the bowties is inspired by the movie The American President. Also this line "… a hopeful kind of sad. The kind that just takes time," is from The Perks of Being a Wallflower, which is also one I love. Thank you guys for staying with me on this story!