:: chapter fourteen ::

A large cardboard box with the insignia of the Royal Mail emblazoned on it was dropped onto the kitchen table, and I looked up from my laptop to see Isobel grinning at me.

“What the hell is that?” I asked as I closed my laptop.

“Something I bought a couple of weeks ago,” Isobel replied as she went to grab a sharp knife out of the draining rack. She came back to the table and used the knife to unseal the box, opening it to reveal another box. This second box was filled with something I recognised instantly.

Christmas crackers.

“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Where did you find these? I haven’t been able to get them anywhere in the States – I wanted to get some for Christmas this year.”

“I had to order them from England,” she replied as she opened the box of crackers and took one out to show me. They were silver and white with Christmas trees, wrapped presents and tiny stars dotted across them. “Got fifty of these little beauties for fifty-four pounds and ninety-nine pence.”

“In dollars, please.”

“A bit more than eighty-five bucks.” She grinned. “Expensive, but it was fucking worth it.” Here she eyed me. “And how the hell do you know about Christmas crackers, anyway?”

“My brothers recorded their Christmas album in England,” I replied. “Specifically, we went to Reading for a month. When the album was finished we got treated to an early Christmas dinner.” I tapped the cracker box. “And these were a part of it. My parents usually get a box of them every Christmas, but this year I offered to buy them instead. I was going mad trying to find somewhere that sold them.”

“Well, problem solved.” She replaced the cracker and closed the box again. “I’m going to make sure I’ve got everything packed and ready to go. Don’t come in our room until I tell you it’s okay.”

“Going to wrap my presents, are you?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Who says I even got you anything?” she retorted, before going into our room and closing the door behind her. As soon as I heard the lock click, I got up from my seat and went to the cabinet next to the refrigerator, lifting the small key I kept on a silver chain around my neck from under my shirt as I walked. Inside that cabinet was my lockbox, which held everything I couldn’t afford to lose – my current prescriptions, medical history, will, birth certificate, the MedicAlert bracelet I was supposed to wear at all times (but usually forgot about completely), and now something I planned to give to Isobel at some point in the near future.

Once my lockbox was open, I took out the small jewellery store box I had taken to keeping inside and cracked it open. Inside was a white gold ring set with a single, quarter-carat round brilliant diamond – an engagement ring. I’d convinced Schuyler to ask to borrow one of my girlfriend’s rings and then hand it off to me, enabling the jeweller I’d purchased the ring from to have it sized to fit Isobel from the outset. I could only hope she liked it once I worked up the nerve to pop the question – when that would be, I had no idea. I just hoped it would be sometime this decade.

It was hard to believe that 2007 was almost at its close, or that I’d known Isobel for almost eleven months. Our nine-month anniversary had passed one week earlier, which meant a few things – I would be turning twenty-five in slightly less than three months’ time, and our one-year anniversary was swiftly approaching. The first scared me a lot more than the second did.

It also meant that Christmas was on its way. Jessica, Isobel and I would be flying down to Tulsa the next morning, with my brothers, Schuyler, Isla and Alli already having left New York the week before. Jessica had just completed the first-semester finals of her junior year and so hadn’t been able to leave for home when everyone else did. Most of the presents I would be giving out had already been sent on ahead, and I planned to do the same in reverse with any presents I received myself.

I had just locked the ring away again when Isobel emerged from our room, and I dropped the key back through the collar of my shirt. “Well, I’m all packed,” she said cheerfully as I closed the cabinet once more. I’d decided it was in my best interests to take my lockbox with me, and to that end I had also returned my bracelet to its rightful place. She looked at my right wrist. “Okay, that’s new.”

“No, not really. I just don’t wear it that often, even though I’m meant to. Mom went off at me when I was last home because I didn’t have it on.” I undid the clasp and showed Isobel the back of the bracelet’s tag, which among other things was engraved with my medical conditions and all of my allergies. “Lets people know what’s up with me in case I’m unconscious or in a country where I don’t speak the language.” I put my bracelet back on and went through into our room, having decided to follow Isobel’s lead in packing for two weeks at home with the Hanson clan. If nothing else, it was definitely going to be interesting.

The next afternoon, my parents met Isobel, Jessica and I at the airport in Tulsa as planned. Isobel had managed to get her Christmas crackers past airport security in New York, which had been something of a relief. It meant one less thing to worry about.

“The tree hasn’t gone up yet,” Mom informed me as we trailed behind Dad, Isobel and Jessica. “We all decided to wait until the three of you got here before we even considered it. But your brother and sisters have already started on the decorations.”

“What’s this about decorations?” Jessica asked as she fell back to walk with Mom and I.

Mom chuckled quietly. “When we left, Avery was making the snowflakes and hearts, Mac was stringing popcorn, and Zoë was untangling the lights.”

“Better make more popcorn before Christmas Day, if past years are anything to go by,” Jessica remarked, and looked straight at me. “Because I can almost guarantee that Taylor will eat the lot before anyone else gets a chance.”

“Hey!” I protested.

“It’s the truth, though,” Jessica said with a smirk. “You’re a freaking bottomless pit.”

“Jess is right, Tay,” Mom said, sounding almost apologetic. “I’m sorry, but I do have to take her side this time.”

I scowled at my mother and sister. “I am not a bottomless pit,” I said sourly.

“I would beg to differ on that,” Dad said without turning around. “I seem to recall a certain son of mine managing to eat a full two-thirds of his mother’s blackberry pie at Thanksgiving last year, all in the one sitting, and then following that up with half of his aunt’s apple crumble.”

I let out a long-suffering sigh. “Is this ‘Pick On Taylor Hanson Day’ or something?” I asked.

“Of course it is,” Isobel said. I could hear the smirk in her voice as she spoke. “Haven’t you checked your calendar lately?”

“Assholes,” I muttered.

My three youngest siblings, the only ones now still living at home, were in the living room when we arrived at my parents’ house. A long string of popcorn was curled up in a large plastic bowl at Mackenzie’s feet, with another half-filled bowl at his right side. Zoë sat to his left, meticulously untangling long strands of clear and coloured lights. And on the floor almost at their feet, using the coffee table as a desk, sat Avery armed with a pair of what I knew to be extremely sharp scissors. She had stacks of red and white paper to one side, and piles of white snowflakes and red hearts to the other.

“So how’s the decorating coming along?” I asked without any sort of preamble whatsoever.

The reaction I got was just as I expected. All three of them jumped easily a foot in the air, with popcorn, snowflakes and hearts flying every which way. I started laughing as they scrambled to clean up the mess that had been produced, content that I’d managed to pull one over them again.

“What the hell was that for?” Avery asked as she restacked her decorations. “You’re a fucking sadist, Taylor!”

“Mom, Avery swore!” Zoë yelled. I noted that she had taken advantage of the distraction to grab a handful of popcorn. “She said the H-word! And she said the F-word too!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I heard Avery mumble. “Here we go again…”

“Zoë, nobody likes a tattletale,” I heard Mom call back, her voice growing louder with each syllable.

“But Mom-”

Here Mom came into the living room and eyed Zoë with one eyebrow raised. “But nothing, young lady. Avery is old enough by now to decide what language is appropriate for the situation, and if she wants to swear then that’s her choice.”

“Yeah, I don’t need my baby sister telling me what I can and can’t say,” Avery said.

“That’s quite enough from you, Avery,” Mom chided. She then looked to me. “Why don’t you go and unpack, and then you can help your brothers and your dad bring the tree in.”

I knew that from the way Mom worded it I had no say in the matter, and so I merely nodded and headed upstairs, snagging my suitcase and backpack along the way. Isobel was already up there, halfway through unpacking her own suitcase. She looked up as I entered and closed the door behind me.

“If you value your sanity, don’t go into the living room anytime within the next two hours,” I said as I lifted my suitcase up onto the bed. “My mom’ll drag you into decorating the tree. Skya, Isla and Alli have all probably been roped into it already.”

“I like decorating Christmas trees,” she said with a shrug as she took a small stack of T-shirts out of her suitcase. “Surely it can’t be all that bad?”

“You’ve never decorated a Hanson Christmas tree, though. We don’t have a lot of decorations because they keep getting lost or broken, so we make most of our own each year. And my younger siblings can be very particular about how the tree is done up. Zoë especially has very specific ideas about it all. She goes somewhat crazy if nothing goes the way she wants it to.”

“So she throws a tantrum?”

“In the way that only a nine-year-old girl can,” I replied.

Once I’d finished unpacking and had pulled a jacket on, I went downstairs to where my father and brothers were gathered in the dining room. All four of them wore gardening gloves on their hands.

“I don’t think Taylor should help bring the tree in,” Mark said as Dad tossed me a pair of gloves. “It’d probably break him.”

“I am here, you know,” I said as I pulled the gloves onto my hands. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about me as if I weren’t.” I glared at my twin. “And it would not break me! I’m not made of glass, for your information.”

“That’s enough,” Dad said sharply. He seemed to study Mark and I for a little while. “Taylor, the tree stand is in the garage – go and find it, and bring it into the living room.”

“All right,” I agreed, and took my gloves off before heading into the garage.

Most of the time when I went into the garage at home I was careful to look straight ahead, my gaze slightly downcast. Emphasis on the word ‘most’ – sometimes, I was idiotic enough to look up. And both of the last times I had done the one thing I really shouldn’t have had been on Christmas, or near enough to it.

I found the tree stand easily enough and started to head back into the house. As I neared the midpoint of the garage I accidentally flicked my gaze upwards and saw it – the bent and warped beam that I guessed nobody had been able to repair without removing the whole thing. A glance downwards, and I could see the stained patch of concrete that no amount of scrubbing had been able to get clean.

I had been the cause of both.

I sank to my knees on the hard concrete and started rocking back and forth in time with my heartbeat, my arms wrapped around myself and focus locked squarely on the beam I had attempted to hang myself from almost three years earlier.

Three years. Thirty-six months. One thousand and ninety-five days. That was how long it had been since I had managed to cheat death the first time…and how long it had been since Mark had saved my life, when all I had wanted was for it to end.

“Marcus, go and find your mother,” I heard Dad saying as if from a great distance, his voice echoing in my ears. Through a haze I realised that he had used the full version of my twin’s middle name – one that was only used when Mark was in deep trouble, or if the situation at hand was particularly serious. “She’s the only one who can get him through this.”

And soon, the only voice I could hear was my mother’s as she spoke softly into my left ear, and all I could feel was her right hand on my back rubbing in a small circle over my spine. That was all it took for me to be able to look away from the garage roof and into her eyes, so much like my own.

“It will be all right, Taylor,” she said in a low voice, pitched so that only the two of us could hear it. “You will be all right – you just need a little more time.” She snapped her focus to the damaged beam. “Either that, or you need to stop looking up when you come in here.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I mumbled. “I swear I didn’t mean to…”

“Shh,” Mom whispered. “I know you didn’t. I know.” She drew me into a tight embrace, stilling my rocking. “Let’s get you upstairs – you need to lie down. The tree can wait for a few hours at least.”

“I’m fine,” I protested as Mom eased me to my feet.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Jordan Taylor. The last time you said that here at home, Mark found you ten minutes later hanging from the roof by your neck and bleeding out onto the floor.” Her voice was shaking slightly as she said this. “Don’t you ever frighten me like that again. Or any of us for that matter.”

“I won’t,” I promised, my voice just as shaky as my mother’s. “I promise.”

A hand on my forehead was what woke me on Christmas morning, and I opened my eyes slowly to see my mother seated on the edge of the mattress. “Hey,” I mumbled.

“Hey yourself,” she said with a smile. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Not really,” I replied without even needing to think about it. Ever since Montreal I had steadily been feeling worse and worse, with my energy levels close to rock bottom a good deal of the time. I’d also been getting headaches more often, though most of those could be attributed to the fact that I barely had enough energy to move, let alone eat. “My left knee’s killing me and so’s my head.”

“Well, the sooner you get up, the sooner you can get that knee moving,” Mom said sagely. “And the sooner we can head back over to the house. Your brothers and sisters have already opened all their presents – they’re just waiting on you to open yours.”

“Wonderful,” I mumbled. “That’s all I need.”

In response, Mom gave me a smile and stood up. I curled up beneath my blankets, unwilling to face the day just yet. I couldn’t have cared less that it was Christmas – it was little more than a reminder that another year of frustration at being sick had ended, and the next had begun. Of course, today was also the third anniversary of the day that I’d been granted a second chance at life – a second chance that, until I had met Isobel, I hadn’t even come close to appreciating.

“I hate Christmas,” I mumbled as I worked to untangle myself from my blankets, hissing as the bare skin on my shoulders was exposed to the cold air. “Especially since it’s so fucking cold!” These last three words were said in almost a shout.

“Language, Taylor,” Mom chided, her voice floating back to me from somewhere else in the house. I rolled my eyes and eased myself upright, reaching for the long-sleeved shirt I knew was hanging from the nearest bedpost as I kicked my blankets off.

This wasn’t the first Christmas that I’d spent mostly at the old house since the move, well away from the noise and the constant movement that was Christmas Day in the Hanson family. The house on 78th Street had been my base every Christmas during college, my parents taking it in turns to look after me so that I wouldn’t be by myself on the one day when nobody should be alone.

Two of my pill bottles and a mug of what I knew to be coffee was set out on the kitchen bench when I emerged from my parents’ old bedroom, where I had slept the night before. I’d pulled my thick fleece hoodie on over my long-sleeved shirt and the thickest pair of socks I owned onto my feet, and yet even though I could feel that the heat was cranked up I was freezing.

“Good Lord Taylor,” Mom said as I sat down at the bench and wrapped my hands around my coffee mug, letting out a sigh of relief as the heat radiated through my fingers. I could tell that she was shocked. It only intensified when she placed her fingers on mine and recoiled. “Your hands are freezing.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious,” I retorted. I unwrapped my hands from around my mug and uncapped my pill bottles, and shook out one pill from each of them. My hands were shaking as I took my medication. “It’s not just my hands – I’m freezing all over. I can’t get warm.”

Just as I finished my coffee Mom led me through to the bathroom and started running water in the bathtub. I raised an eyebrow at her as she went to the cabinet beneath the sink. “What are you doing?” I asked, trying not to sound too suspicious.

“You need to warm up,” Mom replied as she took out a bottle of bubble bath and turned back to the bathtub, uncapping the bottle and pouring a liberal amount into the stream of running water. “And I can’t think of any better way to do that than to have a nice long bath.” She looked back over her shoulder at me and smiled. “So you have your bath and get warm, I’ll find you some clean clothes to change into, and we can have a chat before we go back home. I can tell that there’s something you want to talk to me about.”

“You know me too well,” I said with a shrug.

“Well, I am your mother.” She studied me for a little while. “Does it have something to do with Isobel, by any chance?”

I bit my bottom lip and nodded. “It has everything to do with her.”

“I see. Well, I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be solved by sitting down and talking things through.”

After I’d taken my bath and had changed into the clothes Mom had collected from my backpack for me, I went back into the kitchen, tossing the box containing Isobel’s engagement ring from hand to hand as I walked.

“I bought Isobel a ring,” I said quietly as I resumed my seat at the kitchen bench. I placed the ring box on the bench between my mother and I, tapping the lid with the fingers of my right hand. “It’ll fit her, I got Skya to borrow one of Issie’s rings so I could get the sizing right.”

“Is it an engagement ring?” Mom asked.

I dropped my gaze to my hands. “Yeah,” I admitted. “It is.” I slid the ring box closer to my mother so that she could have a look, and kept my focus lowered while I waited for her verdict.

“It’s beautiful, Tay. Did you choose it yourself?” was the next question asked.

“Yes,” I replied quietly. I raised my gaze slowly to meet my mother’s, and was relieved to see approval in her eyes. “I think I’m ready,” I said. “I…” I swallowed hard and tried again. “I wanted to wait until my birthday to ask her, because that’s when we started dating, but if I wait that long then I’ll never get around to it. It’s now or never.”

“So I take it that you’ll be asking her today, then?”

I nodded. “After Christmas lunch, I’ll take her out into the yard and pop the question. I’ll tell her about my job offer too, and that I want her to come with me. I’m not leaving without her.”

Not a word was said for at least ten minutes. It was my mother who finally broke the silence.

“I am so proud of you,” she said softly.

“What for?” I asked, puzzled. There wasn’t much I’d done that I could be proud of, so I had no idea where she might be going with this.

“Well, let’s see now.” She came around the end of the bench to stand next to me, and turned me to face her. “Not only are you the first of my children, and my only son to date, to complete your college education and gain your degree, but you’re the first to ask your girlfriend to marry you.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “And you haven’t allowed your health problems to get in your way. For the most part, you’ve risen above them. That is why I am so proud of you. A lesser person would have given in long ago, but you are strong enough to not have allowed them to bring you down.” She tucked my hair behind my ears. “Just promise me that you’ll do right by her. I’ve grown very attached to the idea of having Isobel for a daughter – she’s a good match for you. I don’t think I’ve seen a couple as much in love as the two of you are.”

“I promise,” I said. “I’d never intentionally do anything to hurt her. She’s far too important to me.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.”

It was almost time for lunch by the time Mom and I rejoined the family. By this time everything was in full swing – Christmas music was playing in the background, something that sounded like one of the Guitar Hero games was frustrating the hell out of at least one of my siblings, and laughter was drifting out of the kitchen. Just your average Hanson family Christmas.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?”

Isobel’s question caught me a little off-guard. I didn’t look over at her until after I had taken off my hoodie and draped it over the back of the chair that sat in the front foyer. “I am now,” I replied. I stepped across to where she stood and gathered her into an embrace. “I missed you,” I whispered.

“I missed you too,” she replied, seconds before glancing upwards. “Oh, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” I asked – the only words I could get out before she kissed me hard on the lips.

“Mistletoe,” she replied once we’d separated.

“Oh, like you needed a reason,” I scoffed, before returning the kiss in kind.

“Taylor?”

I looked down to my right to see Zoë standing next to me. “Hey Zo,” I said quietly.

Zoë tilted her head to one side and studied me. “Mom said you were sick last night,” she said. “Is that why you didn’t come to church?”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Zo, there’s a lot of reasons why I don’t go to church,” I replied, trying not to sound too exasperated. “But yes, that was the main reason.”

She seemed to think this over. “Why were you sick?” she asked.

“I’m still sick, Zo. I just manage to hide it really well.” And with these words I proceeded to lead my little sister upstairs to her bedroom. “Sit down, Zoë,” I said as I sat down on her bed, and she climbed up next to me. Of all my brothers and sisters, she was the only one who had no memory at all of me being completely well – to her, I had always been sick. And now that she was finally wondering why, it was time to explain everything.

“Do you remember how horrible you felt when you got sick last winter?” I asked, deciding to tie my explanation to Zoë’s own memories. When she nodded, I continued. “That’s how I feel almost all of the time. The only difference is that I don’t sneeze and cough – I just feel tired and sore a lot.” I looked down at my hands. “I got sick just before your second birthday.”

“Are you going to get better?”

I looked sidelong at her and saw the sheer hope in her eyes – hope that I was about to destroy.

“I don’t know,” I said softly.

I was half-expecting her to merely nod, maybe even start crying. Instead she got up onto her knees and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, putting her head down against my neck. My eyes dropped closed as she hugged me, and I felt a sense of utter relief at the fact that my little sister didn’t think any less of me all because I’d kept this from her for so long.

After lunch, I led Isobel out onto the back porch. I had the ring box in a pocket of my jeans, and no idea what I was going to say. I only knew that I was going to tell her about the job first, after which I would ask the one question I had wanted to ask her for months. The key would be linking the two together.

“I got a job offer back in October,” I said idly, as if I was just making conversation. We were sitting on my mother’s porch swing, side by side. “Someone I knew in college has his own production company, and he’s asked me to become the studio producer for one of the company’s southern branches.” I took Isobel’s left hand into my right and laced our fingers. “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime – I’m never going to get this sort of chance ever again.”

“Where is it?”

I didn’t look at her as I said the next part. “Australia.”

She didn’t say a word for what seemed like an eternity. When she finally did speak, it cut me deep to my core.

“Oh.” The way she said that one small word tore me up inside – she sounded incredibly sad and almost heartbroken. “Wh-what did you tell them?”

“Well, now, here’s the thing. I basically told my old classmate that if he wanted me to come and work for him, he would have to sweeten the deal considerably.” I couldn’t help smiling as I said the next part. “I told him that I would only accept his offer of employment if my wife was included in the deal.”

“Your wife?” Now Isobel sounded completely disbelieving. “But you’re not married…” And that was when it clicked. She clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my God,” I heard her say from behind her hands, her voice muffled and eyes wide open.

“Issie…” I took a deep breath and prepared to ask her the one question that had the potential to change both of our lives – hopefully for the better. “You are my entire world, Issie. You are my reason for living – the reason why I’m still breathing, why my heart is still beating.” My voice began shaking. “Y-you make me happy to be alive. Until I met you, I never appreciated the second chance I got three years ago – I sure as hell do now. You make it all worth it.” I closed my eyes tightly for a few moments. “I-I love and adore you with all that I am, and I don’t want to live even another second without you.”

And with these words, I stood up off the swing and moved to stand in front of Isobel, getting down on one knee and taking the ring box from my pocket. “Isobel Lynn Reynolds…” I paused and took a breath, trying to stop my hands shaking. I’d never been so nervous in my whole life. “Will you come to Australia with me, and will you do me the honour one day soon of walking down the aisle to become my wife?” I opened the ring box as I finished speaking, and waited for her to respond.

“Holy shit,” she whispered after a few seconds. “You…you’re serious, aren’t you?”

I nodded. “I am completely serious. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Issie. I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.” I studied her for a little while. “So what d’you say?”

Her only response was an emphatic nod. Tears had started to stream down her face by this time, so I knew she couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to. I grinned half in relief and got back to my feet, sitting back down next to her and taking her ring from its box. “Now, are you completely sure?” I asked, my tone joking.