A Family, At Last

Karyn found herself at the dining room table next to Vaughn’s youngest sister, Jenny, who was home from college.

“No prime rib?” Karyn asked.

“Vegetarian since I was fourteen.”

Karyn stared at her plate, feeling uncomfortable now, drawing a small laugh from the pretty young woman who looked remarkably like her mother.

“If it weren’t for the meat eaters of the world, I would’ve had a very different life, one not nearly as wonderful. Please, eat your beef. It’s just a personal choice for me.”

Karyn took a bite of the best prime rib she’d ever eaten. She’d loaded her plate with a bit of everything, including cranberry Jell-O salad, a green salad with orange slices and almonds plus olives and pickles and carrot sticks. She was enjoying every bite.

“Leave room for dessert,” Jenny said. “There’s nothing better in the world than my mom’s pies. Except for her cookies.”

Conversation may have lagged a little when they first sat down to eat, but it picked up shortly. Karyn looked around. Everyone seemed to be smiling. And talking. And laughing. And kidding around.

Annie was right. The moment Jim Ryder appeared, Karyn had known who he was. It was how Vaughn would look in twenty years.

She sought out Vaughn, who was seated at the other end and across, near his mother and next to his sister-in-law, Annie. Everyone was relaxed, comfortable with each other. They’d welcomed her warmly. But she suddenly missed her formal parents, and her brother, like crazy. Their family dinners had never been big and boisterous like this, but they were her family, her memories, and she ached for them now. Especially now, when it might be different for her parents, not so sad. They’d gotten a tree....

She’d feared she would never be able to celebrate again, would never overcome the deep-down pain she now associated with Christmas. Maybe there was hope after all.

Tears pushed at her eyes. She whispered “Excuse me” to Jenny and tried to seem casual about leaving the room, when she just wanted to run—run far away from all the camaraderie and connection, so lacking in her life.

She found a bathroom, did her best not to slam the door shut, then sank onto the toilet and let the tears flow, hot and full of longing for her so special brother who had been everything to her, her leader, her protector, her fan. He’d never let her down.

Kyle had never mentioned Cassidy’s mother, Ginger, which to Karyn meant she hadn’t been special to him. What was she supposed to take from that? They’d always talked about their relationships, giving each other advice.

A light tapping on the door had Karyn grabbing tissues and swiping at her face. “Yes?”

“It’s Vaughn. Are you all right?”

“Of course. I’ll be out soon.”

“All right.”

She held a cold, wet washcloth to her face, but it didn’t help enough, and she couldn’t hide out for an hour.

Resigned, she opened the door. Vaughn was there, leaning against the wall. He pushed himself upright, stared at her for a few seconds, then, without a word, pulled her into his arms. She’d thought she was done with tears, but that sparked a whole new batch.

“My brother died on Christmas Eve,” she said against his shoulder, his strong, solid, comforting shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Seeing all of you together, having fun, just triggered...I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much. Every year it’s hard. I was with my parents for Christmas when the men came up the walkway. I felt like someone had set me under a boulder then shoved it over on me. I crumbled. I—”

His arms tightened. She squeezed him, digging her fingers into his back. “I don’t want to go back out there.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“No. Cassidy needs to be here—with you. Just let me lie down in one of the bedrooms. When you’re truly ready to go, come get me.”

“Okay.” Vaughn fought the urge to lift her into his arms and carry her, fought his instinctual urge to take care of her. He couldn’t remember seeing someone cry like that, that deeply and mournfully. He guided her down the hall to his old bedroom, which hadn’t changed much through the years. None of their rooms had. His mother preferred to keep them as they were when they each left for college. “This was my room,” he said to Karyn, slipping into the adjoining bathroom he’d shared with Mitch and dampening a washcloth.

She’d already lain down, her shoes toppling against each other on the floor. He lifted an afghan from the foot of the bed and draped it over her. “Maybe you’d prefer to just spend the night here?”

“No.” She didn’t seem to have the strength to say more.

“Here’s a washcloth and towel if you need them.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry.”

He almost leaned down and kissed her head, stopping himself at the last minute. In a strange way, he was glad he’d seen her break down, giving him an insight into her he never would’ve had otherwise. She’d cried a little at her apartment, but this was a full meltdown.

Vaughn returned to the dining room. The table was cleared and leftovers were being stored. After all these years, they had a routine of who did what. No one had to be assigned a task. The men always did the dishes. Vaughn grabbed a dish towel off the counter.

“Is she all right?” his mother asked.

“She’s exhausted, I think. She drove up from L.A. today. Long drive, plus all these people.” He shrugged.

“It seemed more than that. She’s looked sad all night.”

Vaughn weighed his answer. “Her family isn’t like ours. She only had one brother. He was killed in Afghanistan three years ago today.”

“Today? Oh, that poor girl.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Should I go talk to her?”

“I don’t think so. She’s lying down in my room. I think she would be embarrassed to have you see her like that.”

Dori put her hand on Vaughn’s arm. “I have questions.”

“I can see that, Mom, but not now, please. When I can, I’ll tell you more.” He reached around her and picked up a pot to dry, stopping the conversation.

Much later he noticed Cassidy’s eyes drooping as his father gathered the children to sit on the floor and listen to him read The Night Before Christmas, a family tradition, the book from his childhood. Cass curled up in her granddad’s lap, a sleepy smile on her face, as he read the long poem dramatically. The children were mesmerized.

“And to all a good night” was the cue for everyone to say their goodbyes. A flurry of activity followed, with lots of hugs and kisses. Vaughn carried his daughter to the truck, leaving his brother Adam to watch her while he got Karyn.

He tapped on the bedroom door, but she didn’t answer. He crept inside and found her curled into a ball, her fists under her chin, asleep. He wished he could just leave her, but he knew she didn’t want that, would feel too awkward in the morning, so he laid a hand on her shoulder and quietly said her name.

She woke instantly, looking confused for a few seconds. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Time to go home. Cass is in the truck already.”

She whipped the covers back, slipped her shoes on, climbed out of bed, then leaned over to straighten the bedding. He helped.

“How many people are still here?” she asked.

“Maybe no one but Mom and Dad and my sister Jenny. Everyone was taking off.”

“I need to get my purse and thank your parents.”