by Scott Weaver

Jack turned the corner onto 48^th street, dragging his little rolling suitcase behind him, surveying the bungalows that lined it. Most of the houses had lights up in the yard, or at least in the windows, and they gleamed on the backs of the wet fallen leaves. “They’re late this year.” He grumbled to himself as he turned up the walkway of the third house on the right, “Damned leaves should be done and gone by Christmas Eve.”

He stopped to survey the house in front of him. It was a simple little bungalow, light blue paint with white trim (that needed to be redone, he noted), and a small covered porch with just enough room for a couple of chairs. The windows were glazed with steam and the blurry outlines of a tree, and people surrounding it, could be seen inside. The walkway and stairs were covered in leaves, and the light from the house showed that the postage-stamp yard suffered from the same neglect. “Everything’s late.”

As he made his way amongst the leaves, careful not to slip, he could hear the sounds of laughter and screaming children coming from the house. A blurry silhouette went streaking past the living room window. “Running, screaming, children.” he corrected, as his suitcase thump-thump-thumped its way up the stairs behind him.

He paused at the door; setting down the gym bag he’d been carrying, so he could look at his watch. He was late. Dinner should have already started, but from the sounds of it, they were waiting. “Damn” he sighed, “maybe if I just…” But he didn’t even finish. They had waited, and his plans at avoiding the humiliation had gone to poo. “Every year,” he thought, “every year…”

“Maybe it will be different this year!” Piped up some long-lost hope-filled portion of his brain. “Maybe they wont do it!” But even the voice didn’t believe it. “Oh, they’ll do it.” He said, as he opened the screen door and knocked. “They always do it.”

He was about to knock again when the door slowly opened and a little blonde face poked through the opening. His grand daughter Mary looked up at him. “Who is…” was all that she got out before her eyes widened in recognition and the unbearably high-pitched 7-year old scream hit her lips, “AAAAAAAAAA!!!!” She turned and bolted into the room, leaving the door to slowly open in her wake.

“Mary Jean Montgomery! What the hell is wrong with…” his daughter-in-law trailed off, her cheeks reddening, as she caught sight of him standing in the doorway. “Oh, hi Dad. Sorry about that. She’s still a little… sensitive…” She lifted her hands in a what-can-you-do gesture, shifting Mika, his grandson, who was in her arms, to do it.  Mika just laid there, against her chest, his sleep-lazy eyes staring at Jack, sucking on his thumb. “But that doesn’t giver her the right… Mary Jean Montgomery! Get your butt back in here and apologize to your grandfather!” She waved Jack in with her free hand as her eyes hunted for her daughter.

“But…” came a meek answer from the living room.

“No butts about it! Little missy! You come here right now and apologize! That is not how we answer the door!”

“Damn! I had hoped she was over it…” He said as he set down his bags and closed the door behind him.

“But I don’t want to!” Whined Mary. “I don’t want to apologize to Grandpa Goat!”

“Mary Jean Montgomery!” Red now dominated her cheeks. “I told you to stop calling him th…”

“Gampa Goat! Gampa Goat!” Mitchell, the three year-old, came running from the kitchen, “Gampa Goat!!!” He latched onto his leg and smiled up at Jack. “Mewy qwimas! Gampa Goat!”

“Mitchell!” She shot Mitchell an unapproving look.

Mitchell looked a question at his mother and hugged Jacks leg even harder.

“It’s okay, Melanie, I’ve been called worse.” And shot her a dry smile. “Merry Christmas Mitchell!” The little boy beamed up at him. “Are you ready for Christmas?”

He shook his head, “Lots a pezants! See! See!” and tugged on Jack’s pant leg to follow him.

“Ugh…” Melanie rolled her eyes at Jack. “Sorry. Here…” she handed Mika to Jack, “you take Mika and I’ll put your bags away… and find Mary… SO SHE CAN APOLOGIZE!”

“No!” Mary’s feet stomped as she ran up the stairs.

“Mary Jean Montgomery!” She grabbed Jacks bags and wheeled on the sound. “Don’t you run away from me, little missy! I’m warning you! Keep this up and you’re going to bed early!”

“See! See!” Mitchell tugged harder at Jacks knee.

“Okay, buddy! Okay!” and let the three year-old lead him into the living room.

“Merry Christmas, Jack.” Said Sarah, Melanie’s younger sister, who was sitting in one of the high-back chairs next to the small fireplace. As always, she had a book in her lap and a pencil tucked into the auburn bun of hair at the back of her head, looking very much the librarian she was. But rising from the chair across the fireplace from her was an older woman Jack had never seen before. His heart sank at the sight of her.

“Merry Christmas to you, Sarah.” He said, although what he was thinking was, “They did it again! After I’ve told them over and over again not to, they’ve gone and done it again!”

“True…” piped up that hope-runs-eternal voice, “but this time she’s at least pretty!” And it was true, she was a handsome woman; tall, with long dark hair that hung, shining in the firelight, down to her more than ample bosom. Her complexion was an olive-white and her eyes were large and intelligent. “I bet she’s got some Greek in her family tree!”

“I don’t care if she’s got golden chariots running through her family tree!” He countered, “They’ve got to stop doing this! It’s none of their business!”

“Jack, this is my friend Joe.” Sarah and the woman (Joe, apparently) must not have noticed the war going on in his head, for they didn’t flinch or show any sign of question on their faces. Which was good, because it was all he could do not to run screaming from the house like Mary had done from him.

“Merry Christmas, Joe. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Liar!” hopeful said.

“Oh, shut up!” he retorted, and offered Joe his hand. “And how do you know Sarah?”

“Oh, I volunteer a couple of days a week at the library.” Her voice was deep and silky smooth, the kind of voice you would hear on NPR or the BBC News Hour. “I read to the children and elderly.”

“Doesn’t she just have the greatest voice, Jack?” Sarah was looking at him expectantly. “You have no idea how much more popular our reading series has become since I found Joe! It’s just amazing!”

“You do have quite a striking voice, Joe. How did you get roped into reading?” He smiled sweetly at Sarah, who glowered back at him.

“Oh, I wasn’t roped into it.” Sarah smiled at this. “It’s something I’ve done for years for my kids, and now their kids. Sarah just asked me if would do it for the…”

“Gampa Goat! Gampa Goat!” Mitchell was tugging hard at his knee. “See! Pezants!” and he pointed at the pile of presents under the tree in front of the living room window.

A small smile curled on Joe’s lips, at this, though Jack couldn’t discern if it was at Mitchell’s exuberance, or the name Gampa Goat. “Yeah! Lots of presents huh! Which ones are yours?”

At this Mitchell detached himself from Jacks leg, and walked over to the presents. He examined them, a forefinger and thumb caressing his stubble-less chin.

“So serious.” Joe chuckled, as she moved to stand next to Jack.

“Presents are a serious business when you’re three.”

“Indeed… but, I think, even at 54, presents are still serious business…” That same knowing little smile curled at her lips. “I think we have a decision.” She said, before Jack could respond.

The forefinger and thumb slowly released his chin and extended out until he was pointing at the largest of all the presents. “Mine.” He said definitively.

“That’s a big…”

Mitchell cut him off. “Mine.” he said, pointing at the next present in line. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine…” His finger moved slowly over each present as he declared it as his own.

Jack glanced at Joe, and they both started to laugh.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine” Mitchell spun on his heels, sweeping his hands over the entire lot and raising them above his head like a winning prizefighter. “Ahh mine!”

“NO THEY’RE NOT!” screamed Mary as she dashed down the stairs. Mitchell’s grin dropped as Mary ran for him. “NO THEY’RE NOT!”

Joe quickly reached out and grabbed Mary around the chest as she threw the first haymaker. The punch went wide and wild, missing Mitchell by at least 6 inches, but Mitchell fell to the ground crying anyway. Mary rounded on Joe, ready to unleash 7 years of fury, when Joe suddenly leaned in close and whispered something in her ear. Mary’s protestations first slacked, then died completely. “Now I believe you had something to say to your grandfather?” She asked as she released Mary.

“Yeah…” she said, in her most penitent voice, but her gaze was on her little brother, who’s tears and wails where quickly drying up. She stuck out a pink little tongue at him, and then turned to Jack. “Grandpa… I’m-sorry-I-called-you-a-goat-and-screamed-at-you-and-ran-away!”

“Are you really sorry?”

“Reeeeally!”

“Okay. Apology accepted.”

“Good” she stated matter-of-factly, as if that finished that. “Momma-says-we-should-wash-up-for-dinner! It’s-getting-cold!” and with a deliberate joy she turned to her brother on the ground, “That means you, too, boogerface!” She made as to jump on him, spreading her hands wide with fingers curled in a monster pose. He flinched and she ran off laughing.

“Okay, big guy. Why don’t we get you washed up?” Jack turned to Joe and whispered, “What did you say to Mary?”

Joe chuckled low and cool, “Womanly knowledge, Jack! Just a little womanly knowledge.” That same little smile playing on her lips as she walked away from him.

Joe and Sarah helped get the little ones washed up while Jack wrestled Mika into his highchair.

“Dad!” Bill said as he walked into the dining room with a steaming ham. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” The two men one-arm-hugged each other over the ham. “How’s the cooking? Need any help?”

“Nope. Nope. Everything’s taken care of!” He deftly slid the gravy boat over so that he could set the ham down. “So… what do you think?” He said this with a pantomime elbow to the gut, wink, and double nod of the head as Joe and Sarah helped the kids into their seats.

“Subtlety was never one of your strong suits Bill!” but he laughed in spite of himself. “That is a nice ham… where’d you buy it?”

“Ha ha, Dad! Very funny! Made it myself!”

“Does Melanie know you’ve been sleeping with other, uh, females, Bill?”

Sarah snorted and almost lost the sip of wine she’d just taken.

“Of course I do, Jack!” Melanie walked in carrying the rolls and a bowl of mashed potatoes. “Just look at the cute little piggies we made! And I just thought, imagine what he could make with a real sow!”

“Nice, Mel! Real nice!” Bill attempted to shoot her a scathing look, failed, and turned on Jack. “Sit! You old fart! Before I make you sit!”

“Ode fawt! Ode fawt! Sit ode fawt!” Mitchell chimed in, and Jack fell into the seat next to him laughing.

“Oh no you don’t!” Shooing him out of his seat. “That’s my spot, mister! You’re right over there!” Pointing to the empty chair next to Joe.

Joe, for her part, shot Jack a not-my-house-not-my-rules shrug, and patted the seat next to her.

“Joe? Did you have any idea you were being setup as my date tonight? This will be the fourth year in a row they’ve done this! They’ve apparently taken it upon themselves to find me a woman. And, surprise! You’re it!”

“Dad!” Bill stared at his dad. Melanie and Sarah just exchanged looks of horror as Jack, grinning from ear to ear, moved to the seat next to Joe.

Joe was laughing. “Nope! Not until Sarah asked me what I thought of you while we were getting the kids washed up!” She said this, not to Jack, but with a smile to Sarah.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you!” He extended his hand to Joe, who took it and shook it hardily. “Welcome to our date!”

Melanie sat down next to Mary and slopped a pile of mashed potatoes on Mary’s plate. “We should really eat, before everything gets cold!”

“Mom? What’s a date?” Mary was looking at her parents, confused.

“I’ll tell you later. Just eat your food!” She looked up at Mitchell, “You too! Everyone eat!”

“Thank God!” Joe grabbed a roll and hooked a slice of ham with her fork. “I’m starving! Jack, can you be a dear and pass the potatoes and gravy?”

“As long as you grab me a roll with some butter?” Tapping a heaping spoonful of mashed onto his plate.

“Deal!”

“One scoop or two?” he was holding a giant scoop of potatoes over her plate

“One, please!” and passed him a perfectly buttered roll.

“Gampa Goat! Gampa Goat! Ook!” Mitchell held up a hand with olive fingertips. “Owifs!”

“Mitchell! There’s something wrong with your fingers!” Jack feigned concern.

“No! Gampa Goat! Daow owifs! See!” and he bit the tip of one of the olives off so that a little pink fingertip shown through.

“Oh! Good!” he swiped his forearm across his forehead. “I thought we were going to have to spend Christmas in the hospital!”

“You silly, Gampa Goat!” and popped another olive into his mouth.

“Okay… I have to ask… Where did you get the nickname Grandpa Goat?”

Bill and Melanie froze mid forkful. Sarah snorted again and looked fixedly at her plate. Jack just sighed heavily and put his head in his hands.

“What?” asked Joe ” Am I not supposed to ask?” her gravy-sopped roll stopped halfway to her mouth. “It’s been driving me nuts all evening!”

“It’s fine! It’s fine!” Jacks voice was muffled by his humiliation. “It’s just not my best moment.”

“Ha!” Sarah snorted. “I don’t know Jack! I think Mary saw your best side!”

“Sarah!” Melanie looked absolutely mortified.

Completely ignoring Melanie, Sarah continued. “In fact, I bet Mary could draw you a picture, Joe!”

“I can draw pretty!” Mary said, catching up to the conversation.

“Not these you couldn’t!” Sarah was now laughing so hard that she almost fell out of her chair.

“What are you talking about?” Joe looked completely lost.

“Mary, tell Joe what happened two years ago with Grandpa!” Mary looked lost for a second. “You know… In the bathroom!”

“Oh…” A serious Mary looked across the table at Joe, cupped her hand around her mouth, and whispered loudly, “I saw Grandpa naked!”

“Oh!” She looked at Jack. “Oh…”

“Sarah, you are not helping!” He turned to Joe, pleading with his hands, “It’s not how it sounds! It’s not how it sounds!”

“Yeah! It’s worse!”

Melanie shot Sarah a look of death. “Sarah, shut up! Let Jack tell the story!” She looked up at Jack apologetically. “Jack?”

“Well…” Jack cleared his throat and took a drink, “you see, it’s a tradition that I spend the night so that I can be here when the kids wake up. But I’ve learned, over the years, that if I want to get a shower, I’m better off taking one the night before, after the kids go to bed.”

“Uh huh…” Joe was completely entranced.

“Well, two years ago, after putting this one to sleep,” he pointed to Mary, “I decided it was time for my shower and bed. So, I took my clothes off and was turning on the water in the tub/shower upstairs, when I heard a blood curdling scream and a loud bang directly behind me. I turned around to find Mary unconscious on the floor behind me.”

Joe looked shocked. “What happened?”

“Mary needed to pee,” Sarah butt-in, “so she walked into the bathroom and closed the door, but when she turned around she saw Jack bent over the tub… butt-naked!”

“Oh!” Joe started to blush. “But what about the loud bang?”

“That was my head!” Mary said, grinning widely.

“That’s right!” Sarah nodded. “That was your forehead hitting the doorknob.”

“What?” Joe looked alarmed.

“Well, Mary had closed the door, so when she turned and ran, she ran smack into the closed door! Knocked herself out cold!” Sarah chuckled.

“I had a big booboo!” Mary said, pointing to her forehead.

“Wow! I bet you did!” Joe sounded genuinely impressed. “But I still don’t understand how that translates to Grandpa Goat?”

“That’s the best part!” Sarah absolutely loved this. “We were all really worried that she was really hurt. She was out for at least a minute. Long enough that Bill had carried her into her bedroom and laid her on her bed and was on the phone with urgent care. But when she came too, she looked up at Mel and whispered, ‘There’s a goat in the bathroom!'”

“I, of course, had no idea what she was talking about at the time.” Melanie looked at Mary. “So I said, ‘No, honey. That was Grandpa.’ and she looks up at me with that awful welt on her forehead and asks, ‘Grandpa goat?’ That’s when Jack walked in to see how she was…”

“Thankfully he’d put on pants by this time!” Sarah interjected.

“It wasn’t funny, Sarah. She really rung her bell!”

“Yeah, but it’s freaking hilarious now, Jack!”

“Well, like I was saying,” Melanie continued, “it wasn’t until Jack came in, and we put two and two together, that we figured out that Mary saw Jack, naked and bent over the tub, and thought Jack was actually a billy goat.”

Everyone turned to watch Joe. “Oh… OH!!!” she said, her eyes widening with comprehension, until she burst out laughing. “So that’s why they call you Grandpa Goat!”

“Gampa Goat!” Mitchell reiterated, and everyone, even Jack, started laughing.

The rest of the evening went by in a flash, with everyone eating and laughing and having a great time. Especially Joe, who would break out in uncontrollable giggles every time she caught Jack’s eye. Until, finally, it was time for Joe to leave (she had to be up early to video-chat with her son and his family on the east coast). The goodbyes and Merry Christmases were said, and Jacked walked Joe to her car.

“I’m sorry they roped you into their little plot. I keep telling them to butt-out… but you know how family can be…” Jack said apologetically.

“Well, I’m glad they did! I had a wonderful evening!” and with that, Joe leaned in, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered something in his ear. Then, before he could react, she waved to goodbye to everyone, wished them all a Merry Christmas, hopped in her car and drove off.

Jack just stood there, stunned and waving to no one, for a sec before turning and heading back up to the house. He was laughing by the time he got to the door.

Melanie and Sarah were waiting to pounce on him.

“What did she whisper in your ear Dad?” Melanie begged.

” Yeah, what did she say, Jack?” Pleaded Sarah.

“Now, ladies, you know a gentleman never kisses and tells!”

They were still berating him as the door closed behind them.

TWO YEARS LATER

Mika scrambles up the steps of the cute little brown bungalow, only a few blocks from his house, and begins banging his tiny little fists on the glass of the screen door. “AMA OAT! AMA OAT! ET ME IN!”

“Well, Happy Thanksgiving, Mika!” Joe says as she opens the front door.

After dinner’s done, and everyone’s thankful for couches and a nap, Jack sneaks out to clean up and put away his new deep-fat turkey fryer. A couple of minutes later Bill joins him, carrying a couple of beers and a satisfied smile.

“Joe was right. That was the best turkey I’ve ever had!” Bill said, handing Jack a beer.

“Yeah. That woman’s right about a lot of things!” Jack takes a long pull from his beer and looks down at the fryer. “But I think this one may take the cake! Who would have ever thought you could fry a damn turkey!”

“Joe, that’s who! And speaking of Joe…”

“I’ve told you already! Joe and I just want a small wedding. Nothing big!”

“No! I know! That’s not what I was going to ask!”

Jack seemed surprised by this. “Oh, okay. What then?”

“Well, it’s been, what, two years since you met Joe?”

“Yeah. Two years ago, Christmas. Why?” Jack looked at Bill wearily.

“Well… well, I was just wondering what the hell she whispered in your ear that night?”

Jack laughed. “Mel still dying to know?”

“Yeah… but I have to admit that I’ve always wondered too!”

Jack laughed even harder. “I’ll tell ya, but you have to promise not to tell Melanie!” He looked at Bill, serious as can be. “Ever! Can you do that?”

Bill thought about it for a second. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Good!” Jack paused, smiling. “She didn’t say, anything. She just asked me a question.”

After Jack didn’t say anything for a sec, Bill prodded him some more. “What was the question?”

Jack’s smile grew into a grin. “She asked me if I was really hung like a goat!”

The men stood there a second, Bill’s mouth hanging open, Jack grinning from ear to ear, before collapsing together in a fit of laughter.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!

The End