Chapter 3

Christmas at the Langstons' was always a big, hectic event. The previous six years that I'd stayed there, we would always go to visit various relatives around the Pacific Northwest and have Thanksgiving and Christmas with one of them. I was introduced as part of the family, and I always felt welcome and not like a stray puppy they picked up on the side of the road, even though that's kind of what I was. This year, though, we were staying at the farmhouse and the relatives would be coming to us. It was a rotational thing and every year one of the relatives hosted the holidays, so this year it was our turn.

After that talk in the mudroom, things were a little awkward, at least on my end. I just didn't know how to adjust to what she had told me. But eventually, as our last year of elementary school wore on and Tabby continued to be, well, Tabby, I gradually relaxed and we regained our old relationship.

And then things took a slightly more awkward turn.

I had finished my homework, and Tabby and I had sprawled out on the living room floor to watch Sea Hunt. Highway Patrol was about to come on and I decided to go to the kitchen and get Tabby and I a couple of cookies that Mrs. Langston had just finished baking.

"Bobby, can I talk to you for a minute?" I heard Mr. Langston ask, as I was about to grab a plate out of the cupboard.

"Sure, what's up?"

"Let's go in the study," he said, turning to lead me to the door tucked in behind the kitchen table.

Now I was feeling very nervous. I hadn't done anything, but what the hell was this about?

"I overheard that conversation in the mudroom at Labor Day," he said without any preamble once we had settled behind and in front of the desk.

My jaw dropped and I prepared to bolt. I was sure he wanted to bust my ass.

"Whoa up there buddy," he laughed, waving a big hand placatingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. None of this was your fault."

I warily settled back down and eyed him. "I'm sorry, Sir but this wasn't my idea, I promise -"

"Hey hey, I know it wasn't your idea, so will you just relax? I'm not going to bite your head off."

"Now," he continued, after a beat of silence in which I kept watching him apprehensively, "my daughter apparently has taken a shine to you. We knew that ever since she brought you home that first time. She always has her own ideas on how things should be and for the most part we let her do her thing. We think a parent's responsibility is to guide not dictate, because how else will a kid learn?

"So what I'm really saying is that, if you two do start dating at some point in the future, Barbara and I won't stand in your way. We know that you won't hurt our daughter if you can help it. Just remember it's all right to say no to her occasionally."

I was floored. What the hell was it with this family anyway?

"Uh, I understand, sir," was all I could think of to say. "But listen, you guys have taken me in, gave me house room and ... uh, I'm not sure if dating her would be a good idea."

I stopped there, because I wasn't sure how to get across what I wanted to say, but MR. Langston nodded, as though he understood.

"You're worried that if it doesn't work out things will get awkward, and we're going to kick you out, right?"

"Yeah, that's it," I said, relieved.

"Two things, Bobby. First, you're both far too young for anything to happen yet. Mmeantime either one of you might find someone else to be interested in. And lastly, even if you two do date down the road and it doesn't work out, we won't kick you out of the house, unless you do something very bad, which I don't think you'll do. Okay?"

"Okay. I won't do anything to her, I promise, and not just because I want to stay here."

He smiled then. "I know you won't, Bobby."

"One more thing, how come you're just bringing this up now, two months later?"

"Barbara and I wanted to wait and see if your relationship with our daughter was going to suffer because of what she told you. We watched you and it seems you guys are still the same, but I saw that you were kind of nervous anyway. So the three of us decided I should be the one to tell you that it's okay."

"I understand. Thanks for talking to me. I was nervous because, uh, I don't know how to really feel about it, I guess. It really surprised me, what she said."

""Just do what she said and treat her the same as always," he said, reaching across and patting my shoulder. "Remember you both are still only twelve and have a very long way to go."

Gradually I pushed that conversation in the mudroom to the back of my mind and didn't think about it anymore. I continued my paper route, with Tabby still waking upright along with me, even though I told her not to. I offered to split the earnings with her since she got up with me to do it, but she smiled and said to save them for a really good guitar.

Finally it was Christmas break and the house was a flurry of activity. Mr. Langston and I went to Vancouver and got a big old pine tree. On December twenty-second the three of us got together and decorated it, while Christmas music played on the phonograph. The temperature was a crisp thirty-eight degrees, Mrs. Langston had made big mugs of hot cocoa and Tabby and I were conscripted to drag boxes of decorations out of the attic.

"I love Christmas," Tabby chirped, as we crawled through the cold attic and spider webs got caught in her curls. "It's so magical."

"Except when you're crawling through a dirty attic," I smirked, spitting out spider webs myself and hunting for the boxes marked in Mrs. Langston's neat hand.

She laughed in the dimness. "Nah, that only makes it better once you get downstairs and into the spirit of things."

Eventually, we found the boxes and dragged them downstairs. Miraculously only three little glass bulbs were broken. We had a great time decorating that tree, with Mrs. Langston directing. Unfortunately we ended up eating more of the popcorn than stringing it on the tree, but it all got done. I got the honor of putting the angel on top. I was really proud of that tree.

"Wonderful," Mrs. Langston said, standing behind us with her arm around Mr. Langston's waist and her head on his shoulder. I was mildly surprised to realize that Tabby and I were in the same position, and that I didn't feel the least bit awkward. She felt rather nice, nestled against my side like that, with the scent of the pine tree in our nostrils and the sound of "Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas" coming out of the old Philco radio.

The next day, the relatives started arriving, and the house was a buzz of activity as various aunts and Mrs. Langston got busy in the kitchen. On December twenty-fourth, the place was busting at the seams, with over a dozen adults and nearly as many children running around. Sleeping bags were piled up in the living room and all four bedrooms were full. Even the farm hands, who lived out in the bunkhouse, were around to celebrate, once the chores got done.