didn't know that was possible, but he didn't comment. Mackenzie looked up to see his eyes almost shut.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
"Haven't you ever done that? Squint your eyes until your eyelashes are together. See how the lights turn into rays that go all over the place?"
"Oh." Mackenzie's voice was awed. "It's like stars."
They sat and did this together for a while until Mackenzie needed to use the bathroom. The flush of the toilet right next to their bedroom brought Delancey out, and both girls snuggled with their father in the big chair. He tried to keep them quiet, but his effort was an utter failure. Soft giggles turned to full laughter, and before long both their great grandmother and mother emerged from their rooms.
"I'm sorry, Grandma," Marrell said apologetically.
29
"Oh, Marrell, for mercy's sake," her grandmother responded in soft rebuke, "I can sleep for a month when you're gone. How many times can I do this? Delancey and Mackenzie, you come with me to the kitchen. We've got coffee and sweet rolls to put on."
"And presents?"
"Presents are right after that. Come on now."
The girls didn't need to be asked twice. Marrell took their place in Paul's lap, and even from the living room they could hear the girls' delighted voices and laughter.
"I wish they could enjoy some of your family the way they do Grandma."
Paul stiffened for a moment but relaxed when Marrell said nothing else. Paul was the black sheep of the family; not because he'd run wild at any point in his life, but because he had joined the Army and not the family business. On top of that, there was his marriage to Marrell. The family had cast their disapproval before even meeting her, and when they did meet her, one of his brothers had made a pass at her.
Never very close to his two older brothers and one sister, Paul had written them off.
"It's their loss, Mary. They'll probably never know you or the girls, but that's their loss, not ours. I stopped sending cards and gifts to them a long time ago because they were never acknowledged. I'm not going to waste my time any longer."
"But what of Micki and D.J., Paul? I just ache that they've never seen where you grew up or played with any of their cousins."
"Have you forgotten what my brother said to you or the way he watched you?" he responded irritably. "I wouldn't trust him around the girls."
"He was drunk," Marrell said mildly. "And I'm sure he'll remember the broken nose you gave him for a long time."
Both of them fell silent. It was not the way they wanted to begin their Christmas. Marrell decided Paul was right. After all, it was his family. If he didn't want to push the point, then she didn't either. Her recollection of their time with them now came fully back to mind. Paul's mother was a strange woman. It had been very difficult indeed. Why would she want to put herself through that again?
30
"If you really want to, we can call them today."
"No," Marrell shook her head. "It's your family, Paul. You do what's comfortable for you. I can't stand the thought that they might meet the girls, disapprove, and hurt them. I'm willing to let it go unless you want us to do something."
Paul reached up and pulled her head very close. He rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I have you, and I have the girls, Mary. That's all I need."
The words did Marrell's heart a world of good, but moments later, when Pearl and the girls paraded in with breakfast on a tray, the odd emptiness that Marrell often felt inside suddenly surfaced. She pushed it away. This wasn't a time to think about that. The hour was early, and she was tired-that was all. This was a day to be enjoyed to the fullest. All too soon it would be time to head home.
San Antonio Early May 1977
"I've got the movers coming June 10. Does that figure right?"
"I think so," Paul replied, looking over Marrell's shoulder at the calendar of events. He knew that time would move swiftly, but it was hard to believe they would be gone