Page 39 of Reclaimed Dreams

Chapter12

2 years ago

Jo’s head was spinning. A real nightmare before Christmas was playing out in her living room and it was all her fault.

She’d had this crazy idea to have a big family Christmas, since it was the first they’d have with serious significant others for two of her children. She’d stressed for weeks over what to make and who to invite and a special surprise for Natalie. And it had all blown up in her face.

“Oh Enzo, what have we done?” She tucked her head against her son’s chest.

Enzo just shook his head and chuckled. They’d screwed up Christmas good and proper.

“I feel like I pushed too hard for this,” Jo continued. “I had this picture in my head of how things would be. But I was so wrong! Poor Graciela has barely said two words all evening because she had to be sedated to come here. Midnight Mass might push her over the edge. And that woman, Portia, she’s a piece of work! Who brings her daughter’s ex along for Christmas, and then proceeds to hit on every man in the room under forty?”

“I must have missed that last bit.” Enzo laughed.

“I may have promised Seth extra tiramisu for tolerating her.” Jo met Enzo’s eyes, earnest regret swamping her. “Enzo, did I ruin Christmas?”

She had just wanted that feeling of a joyous Christmas back. It had been years since she’d been able to feel like Christmas wasn’t missing something vital. Not since Gabe died. She’d thought with all the budding love stories and a child in the family again, this would be the year. Once again, she’d expected everyone to just fall in line with her plans and had forgotten to account for the fact that people had free will and messy emotions. God, she couldn’t even wrangle her own emotions. She swiped at her eyes and cursed, forgetting she’d put on makeup.

“No, Ma. You can’t ruin Christmas. It’s still the day God sent his love to the world. All we can do is try our best to do the same. This try just backfired a little.”

Jo pulled Enzo in for a mom hug, grateful he still allowed her to do so. His calm embrace soothed her ruffled edges, and she found a bit of her equilibrium.

“Those Sunday school lessons really sank in, huh? You’re a good man, Enzo. Okay, let’s go fix this. I’m going to thank Graciela for coming and ask if she wants to go home. I think Rey can probably drive her. As for Portia—”

“Leave Portia to me and Nat. I’m learning that when we don’t work together, shit hits the fan.”

Wasn’t that the truth? She and Dom had forgotten that key lesson and look where they’d ended up. After his meltdown at Halloween, she and Dom had been taking tentative steps back toward each other, but it was hard to move past the months of resentment and her husband’s continued adherence to his plan. He felt the responsibility to the show so strongly she worried he wouldn’t be able to deviate. For the first time in months though, she had hope. “An important lesson to learn. Do you know what I’ve learned tonight? I am pretty damn grateful for our family.”

“Me too, Ma. Can I ask two favors?”

“Anything.”

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, and Jo grinned at her baby boy, delighted that some things never changed. Enzo wanted a plate of pizzelles Christmas morning, and winter followed autumn.

“Of course. It’ll be ready and waiting first thing. And the second?”

“Will you kill me if I miss Mass?”

“Go fix things with Natalie. I’ll consider that penance.”

They’d had their ups and downs, but the way her children and the people they loved had handled the crisis she’d inadvertently created gave her great hope for the future.

“I love you, Ma.”

“Love you too, baby. Merry Christmas.”

27 years ago

The tree threatened to fall over under the weight of handmade ornaments. A tradition begun in scarcity had become overwhelming thanks to enthusiastic preschool teachers with a fondness for glitter and popsicle sticks. But the kids loved it. Gabe and Sofia chased each other around the living room with their candy cane reindeer ornaments, pretending to pull Santa’s sleigh. Enzo was content to play with a wooden spoon and a pot at Jo’s feet in the kitchen, while she juggled Christmas Eve dinner and making the pizzelles. Despite the cacophony around her, she managed. At least she knew where he was.

Thankfully, Francesca was still asleep up in the nursery.

It was their first Christmas in their forever home. She and Dom had finished the basic renovations needed to make it livable by September. Little by little they were tackling the rest as there was time and money available. And there hadn’t been enough of either lately, so Jo was cooking in the ugliest kitchen known to man, made only slightly more bearable by a coat of primer to cut the army green walls. Someday she’d have the kitchen of her dreams. Until then, she’d make do.

She’d upgraded from the early years and purchased an electric griddle for her husband’s favorite cookie, which made the process easier and faster. She’d also had over ten years of practice at this point and was a pro at making them.

As a parent of four little ones, she’d learned to juggle the details and still make the magic happen.

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