One Christmas Knight

“I get to hold her first,” J.J. hissed, glowering possessively.

“Uh-uh. I’m the oldest, so I get to hold her-”

“Uh-uh, do not! I saw her first!”

“Sammi June!” yelled a tall, slim, dark-blond woman from the doorway. “You get in here, now, and help Gramma put the food on the table.”

“That’s my sister Jess-Sammi June’s mother,” said Jimmy Joe, then muttered under his breath as he bent to pick up Amy’s carrier, “Sure am glad everybody’s just bein’ their usual selves.”

They went up the steps together, Mirabella thinking, Oh, God, is everybody in this family tall, thin and blond? Then she saw the woman standing behind Jimmy Joe’s sister, waiting for the confusion to clear. A small woman, shorter even than Mirabella, with a neat cap of hair in a rich, naturallooking shade of brown, and a body that was still youthful, though definitely on the voluptuous side.

“Mama,” said Jimmy Joe, sounding slightly breathless, “this is Mirabella.”

“Betty,” his mother said firmly, as she held out her hand.

She doesn’t look anything at all like Jimmy Joe. That was the first thing to sort itself out of the mess in Mirabella’s mind. Then she saw his mother’s eyes-warm, brown eyes, with a golden gleam of fire lurking in their depths. And she thought, with a sense of familiarity that was almost like a homecoming, Yes…

“I’m just so happy to finally meet you,” Betty Starr exclaimed, dragging them all through the doorway and into her house with the sheer force, it seemed to Mirabella, of her personality. “Let me see this little one, now. Oh, she’s sound asleep, isn’t she? Well, that’s good. Just bring her on in, we’ll set her right down beside the table. Y‘all come on, now, food’s on the table. We waited supper for you. Would you like to freshen up? No? Well then… Mama…?” Her voice rose to a melodic bellow. “Supper’s ready, Mama. Company’s here and food’s gettin’ cold.”

In a kind of daze, Mirabella followed her into the large, informal dining room that adjoined a rather old- fashioned kitchen, with appliances that probably dated at least from the sixties. She was reassured by the light pressure of Jimmy Joe’s hand on her back, and in a strange way by the children, fidgeting and hissing at each other as they came along behind. Children, at least, were the same everywhere.

While Jimmy Joe’s mother directed everyone to their places and his sister Jess bustled off to the kitchen to see to lastminute preparations, they were joined by a tiny wraith of a woman, no taller than the two children and bent and gnarled as a tree root with osteoporosis.

“Hey, there, gorgeous,” said Jimmy Joe, bending over to kiss and hug her, handling her as though she were made of blown glass.

The old woman beamed and reached up to pat his cheek, then clutched his arms and peered around him like a child playing hide-and-seek. “Where is she?” she croaked, her old eyes gleaming, and Mirabella knew that, frail though she might be, here was a woman who still held the reins of life firmly in her hands.

“Granny,” said Jimmy Joe, “this is Mirabella.”

“Yes…yes…it’s nice to meet you.” She peered intently up at Mirabella, who felt her hand clutched in a grip of surprising strength. Then Granny Calhoun announced to nobody in particular, “She’s a lot prettier than she looks on TV.”

My family… Jimmy Joe watched them assemble around the table, squabbling and bickering and bossing one another as they always did and always would, and felt the familiar feeling that always came over him when he’d just gotten home after being gone awhile. A sense of thankfulness for them all, a rueful acceptance that they weren’t perfect, and acknowleg-ment that he loved them in spite of-maybe even because of- that.

He wanted to look at Mirabella and smile at her with his eyes in a way that said, Yes, I know, but they’re part of me. A big part. And a big part of what I brought you here to see. So what about it? Do you think…?

But he couldn’t look at her then, too afraid of what he might see.

They all took their places-Mirabella, with Amy in her carrier at her feet, at the end closest to the living room in case, she was told, she needed to get up and tend to the baby during dinner. Jimmy Joe was down at the other end-miles away, it seemed-at the head of the table, with Granny Calhoun and the two children on one side and Betty and Jess on the other. The food-roast chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy, and boiled greens and corn bread-all smelled delicious, even to a semi vegetarian like Mirabella, but she didn’t know if the twinges she felt in her stomach were hunger pangs or butterflies.

On her right, Jimmy Joe’s mother held out her hand. After a moment’s uncertainty, Mirabella placed hers into it. Then she noticed that everybody was joining hands all around the table, so she looked over to her left and sure enough, there was Jess holding out her hand, too. Oh, God, she thought, not even aware of the propriety of that as everybody bowed their heads for the blessing.

She felt cold, suddenly. Lost and alienated. Not unusual, surely, for somebody thrust abruptly and unexpectedly into the bosom of a strange family. But this was Jimmy Joe’s family. He’d brought her here in the hopes that she might want to become a part of it, too. Could she? Maybe she wanted to. But how would she ever make it work, when everything was so…different?

She felt so…lonely.

Then, while Sammi June did the honors in a singsong, recitative voice, Jimmy Joe suddenly lifted his head and looked down the length of the table at Mirabella and smiled his sweet, special smile. And she felt a strange stirring, like the rustling of the wind through the pine trees outside…

Later, when supper was finished and they’d collected J.J. and everybody had said all their goodbyes and y’all- come-backs and they’d gone on home, Jimmy Joe got J.J. settled down and then went looking for Mirabella. He found her out on his front porch, wearing his Levi’s jacket and hugging herself against the cold, just standing and listening to the sounds of the night.

He went to her cautiously, not knowing quite what to make of her stillness. He felt calm and confident now, as he mostly did when he was here in his own place, but wired and restless, too, in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. With J.J. all tucked in for the night in his bedroom upstairs, and Amy Jo sound asleep again in her carrier, suddenly it was just the two of them-him and Mirabella, alone in the quiet of the night for the first time since that Christmas, more than three weeks ago. It seemed like a whole lot longer-another time, another place.

“Chilly out here,” he said.

And she nodded and murmured, “Yes.”

And then after a moment she went on, drawing a deep, quick breath, “I like it, though. It feels so crisp…so fresh. Reminds me of when I was growing up. We lived in the desert, then. I don’t think we ever had snow, but it could get cold, and I remember the sky being like this, so black and clear and full of stars.”

Hope filled his throat. He coughed and said, “Yeah, it’s real nice in the summertime.” He made a little gesture toward the two rocking chairs he kept there, side by side. “Sometimes I like to sit out here in the evenings and watch the night come in-you know, the air feels soft on your skin and the honeysuckle smells so sweet, and the fireflies twinkle on and off in the trees…”

“I’ve never seen fireflies,” said Mirabella wistfully. And then he could hear a smile in her voice as she added, “Except at Disneyland-fake ones.”

“I’ve seen those. They look awful darn close to the real thing.” He went and sat in one of the rockers, and after a moment, she took the other. “If you sit here long enough,” he said after a while, “the whippoorwill’ll start to sing, somewhere out there in the trees. Just sings his little ol’ heart out.”

“I’ve never heard a whippoorwill.” Her voice sounded far away. “What do they sound like?” She caught her breath and flicked him a quick, delighted smile when he cleared his throat, pursed his lips and whistled the three- note song. Then she turned her head away again, but not before he saw her smile go soft and wry. “I remember… you told me about the whippoorwill. The night Amy was born.”

Warmth rose in his cheeks, and he laughed. “I’m kind of surprised you remembered that.”

“Oh, I remember everything about that night.” She sounded wistful again. Almost sad, he thought. “I remember you held me, and you told me it was like making love. And then…”

“And then, you told me…”

“I’d never made love before.”