Three Cs

When I first wrote Listening to the Rain, Ally was in elementary school in the first few chapters. To make the book more appealing to teen readers, I eventually decided to start the book during her freshman year of high school instead. Like most writers, though, I liked the early chapters too much to just delete them, so I saved them on my computer as “deleted scenes.”

One of those chapters is about Ally’s aunt and cousins from New York coming to visit her family for Christmas. To celebrate the Christmas season, I decided to share that chapter with you. I hope it’s a good snapshot of what Ally, Billy, and James were like when they were younger.

Our last day of school was a Friday, exactly one week and one day before Christmas. I was so excited at the end of the day that I sang Christmas carols as we walked home from the bus stop. James joined me, and Billy waved his hand as if he were our conductor. He never sang unless he had to because, as Grandpa said, he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket. We were all smiling as we trooped into the kitchen, where we found Grandpa sitting at the table looking worried. The smiles melted from our faces.

“What’s wrong, Grandpa?” Billy asked.

“Nothing,” he said, “but I do need to talk to y’all. Go put your stuff in your rooms and then come back to the kitchen.”

We all did as he said. Once we were sitting around the table, Grandpa looked at us.

“Your Aunt Eliza called today,” he said.

I frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s your daughter, right?” Billy said. “The one that lives in New York?”

As Grandpa nodded, I remembered. Grandma and Grandpa had had four children, three boys and a girl. The three boys, our fathers, had all died, but the girl was still alive. She lived in New York with her husband and children. I’d never met any of them.

“What did she want?” Billy asked.

“Well, her husband is going out of town for a few weeks,” Grandpa said, “so she and her children want to spend Christmas with us. How would y’all feel about that?”

I smiled, thinking it would be fun to have more cousins around, especially for Christmas. Billy’s expression mirrored mine, but James looked like he’d eaten something sour.

“Do they have to?” he asked.

Billy raised his eyebrows. “Why don’t you want to meet our cousins? They’re the only other family we have.” 

James sighed. “I have met them. Aunt Eliza and her children came to stay at my house before…before…”

“Before you came to live here,” Grandpa finished for him.

He nodded, and I considered that for a second. I couldn’t remember a time before James came to live with us, so it always caught me off guard when he mentioned something about his life before that.

“So why don’t you want them to come?” Billy asked.

James looked uncomfortable. “They’re…well, they’re…they’re really not very nice,” he said, looking at Grandpa apologetically.

I expected Grandpa to scold James for criticizing his grandchildren, and to some extent, his daughter, but Grandpa just sighed.

“I know,” he said, “but they’re family. I love Eliza dearly, and I never get to see her.”

After hearing that, I re-evaluated my enthusiasm.

“How long would they be staying?” I asked.

“About a week,” Grandpa said. “They’d come tomorrow and leave the following Sunday, the day after Christmas.”

Billy and I looked at each other and then at James, since he was the only who’d met them. James met our eyes with a look of resigned acceptance, his thoughts as clear as if he’d spoken them aloud. If it meant that much to Grandpa, we needed to bite the bullet.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Billy said, speaking for all of us. “It’s only a week.”

Grandpa gave a pained half-smile. “Good, I’ll call Eliza to let her know.” He drummed his fingers on the table several times and then looked at us again. “Now, from what we’ve said, you know your cousins…and your aunt aren’t the easiest people to get along with, but while they’re here, I want you to do your best to be nice and keep the peace.”

“Yes sir,” we said.

With a nod, Grandpa stood up, grabbed the cordless phone from where it sat on the bar, and walked to the living room.

 As soon as he started dialing, Billy looked at James. “Are they really that bad?”

James shrugged noncommittally, and Billy rolled his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell us anything negative. How many of them are there?”

James looked at the ceiling, trying to remember. “When they came to stay with me, there were four: two boys and two girls. I think Grandpa said Aunt Eliza had a baby since then.”

“Five?” I said. “Where are they gonna sleep?”

“Probably in our rooms,” Billy said pessimistically. “You’ll get the girls, and we’ll get the boys.”

I propped my chin in my hand.

“How old are they?” I asked James.

“Well, let’s see,” he said. “Marcus is the oldest. I think he was two years older than me, so that would make him eleven now. Cole was a year younger than him, so he’d be your age, Billy. Tracey and Danielle were both a lot younger than me.  I don’t know how old they are now, but Tracey was the older of the two.”

Billy sighed. “Well, at least we’ll have a week to ourselves after they leave.” Shaking his head, he stood up and headed toward his room. James stood up, too.

“I’m going to practice my new song,” he said and walked over to the piano. I went out the barn to play with Rex, feeling apprehensive but sure we could handle it. As Billy had said, they’d only be here a week. How bad could it be?

Aunt Eliza and her children arrived about 1:00 the next day. When we heard the car on our driveway, we all went out to the porch. My cousins and aunt rolled up in a shiny black SUV they’d rented at the airport that looked like it should’ve been used by the secret service. Aunt Eliza got out of the vehicle first.

Her long hair was straight and about the same shade of brown as James’s but with blond highlights. She was fairly thin and wore so much makeup that the only other thing visible on her face was a haughty expression. She was wearing a purple sleeveless top that I later learned was make of silk, a black skirt that stopped several inches above her knees, and heels so high I’m not sure how she walked in them. I’m sure in New York she looked quite stylish, but standing on our farm, she looked absolutely ridiculous.

Without so much as waving at us, Aunt Eliza opened the door to the back seat and started taking a baby out of a car seat. Her other children got out of the car and stood studying us as intently as we studied them. The oldest boy, Marcus, was almost as wide as he was tall. I had never seen anyone so overweight in my life. His hair appeared to be blond, but it was cut so short it was hard to tell. The only other boy had to be Cole. In contrast to his brother, he was lean and wiry. His pointed nose and prominent teeth reminded me of a rat, and the dark brown hair that flopped across his forehead only made the resemblance worse.

I assumed the taller of the two girls was Tracey. She looked about six, had curly brown hair, and was crying.  The other girl, Danielle, was her mother in miniature, from the tip of her dirty blond head to the soul of her two-inch heels. All four children wore clothes of the same quality and impracticality as their mother. I groaned inwardly, thinking that anyone who would wear clothes like that to stay on a farm had to be crazy.

After a nudge from Grandpa, Billy, James, and I followed him off the porch and out to the car. He introduced us to our cousins, and Aunt Eliza told us their names in turn.  I was right about all of their identities, but I did learn that the baby, who seemed to be following in Marcus’ footsteps in terms of build, was two years old and named Evan.

When introductions were over, we helped them unload their luggage and bring it in the house. Tracey and Danielle’s things were put in my room while Marcus’s and Cole’s were put in the room Billy and James shared. Grandpa gave up his room for Aunt Eliza and Evan, so we put their luggage in there. When we were finished, all of Aunt Eliza’s children went into the living room and complained to their mother about having to share rooms with us. Tracey even cried about it. While Aunt Eliza did her best to placate them, Billy stood in the doorway of his room and surveyed them with disgust.

“Be nice and keep the peace,” he muttered to himself before schooling his features into a somewhat nicer expression.

In an attempt to take their minds off our cramped quarters, I suggested that we all go to the woods to find a Christmas tree. The woods behind our house had mainly tall oak and pine trees, but there was a section of smaller pines and firs if you knew where to look. With a little coaxing, all of Aunt Eliza’s children agreed to go search for a tree, except Marcus. He thought it would be too much walking and opted to remain at the house.

The rest of us, however, walked the short distance to the edge of our property and into the woods. Within five minutes, Danielle was already complaining that it was too cold (it was in the fifties), that we’d been walking for too long (she’d been sitting in a plane or car all day), and that her feet hurt. To be fair, her feet probably did hurt since she was still wearing the heels that she had on when she arrived. Cole, meanwhile, amused himself by finding bugs on the trees and throwing them at all the girls. He started out just throwing them at me, but when I didn’t react like he wanted, he moved on to throwing them at his sisters, who squealed or cried every time.

Aunt Eliza carried Evan for a few minutes and then attempted to make him walk, which caused him to fuss. She then passed him along to Cole, who attempted to pass him to Billy (“I’m not carrying that little monster!”) and succeeded in passing him along to James. Evan was too heavy for James to carry very far. Most adults probably wouldn’t have wanted to carry him for more than five minutes. In an attempt to keep the peace, though, James carried him without complaint.

Grandpa was leading our little expedition and was so focused on finding a tree that he noticed very little of this. The area with the Christmas trees was about a fifteen-minute walk into the woods, although you started seeing a few of them after ten minutes. Generally, it took us at least an hour of walking and debating to decide which tree to get. After about ten minutes, though, Aunt Eliza’s four-inch-heeled feet were apparently ready to go back home.

The first pine tree she saw that was the right size, she said, “Daddy, let’s get that one.”

‘That one’ was a scrawny tree with a big patch missing on one side. I grimaced when I saw it, and so did Grandpa.

“There are some a lot prettier further in,” he argued weakly.

“Oh, but this one’s lovely,” Aunt Eliza said. “And besides, I’m starting to get a blister on my heel.”

She looked at him beseechingly, and Grandpa walked over to the tree with his saw. I was stunned. Grandpa was always the one who insisted we find the perfect tree every year, and now he was cutting down that pathetic-excuse-for-a-pine. I ran over to him.

“Grandpa, we can’t get this tree. It’s…it’s…” I struggled to find an adjective strong enough to describe its ugliness.

“It’ll look fine once we put the lights and ornaments on it, Ally,” he said. “We’ll put that bare spot toward the wall, and you won’t even notice it.”

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as me. I couldn’t believe it. I knew Grandpa didn’t like this tree and that he was settling to please his daughter, which I felt was horribly wrong. In my eight-year-old mind, Christmas trees were sacred and should never be settled upon. At that moment, I had a profound realization: Grandpa could make mistakes. This, more than anything, shocked me enough not to cry over the tree.

Grandpa dragged the tree back to the house with “help” from Cole, who mainly just got in the way. We all walked behind them, with James and Evan bringing up the rear. About half way back to the house, Evan started crying. I looked back to see James massaging his arms and getting ready to lift him again. Billy, who noticed this too, apparently decided that carrying the “little monster” was better than watching James kill himself in the attempt to do so. He walked back, scooped up Evan, and carried him the rest of the way himself.

 By the time Grandpa settled the tree in its stand, it was time to start cooking supper. We postponed decorating the tree and pitched in to help. When I say “we,” I mean Billy, James, and me. We fixed baked chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.

When the meal was ready, we all sat down at the table to eat. Grandpa had borrowed fold-out chairs from the church so that everyone would have a place to sit. Naturally, the guests sat in the good chairs, and those of us who actually lived there, sat in the borrowed ones. Fortunately, we had five good chairs, which meant there were enough for Aunt Eliza and all of her children since Evan sat in his mother’s lap. I ended up between Billy and Danielle.

After Grandpa said the blessing, everyone began piling food onto their plates. Those of us who had fixed dinner waited until all of our guests had full plates before serving ourselves. There were plenty of potatoes and green beans, but only three pieces of chicken left. I thought that was strange because we had cooked enough for everyone to have a piece. Looking around the table, I discovered why one was missing: Marcus had one and a half pieces on his plate, having already consumed half of one.

“Each person only gets one piece of chicken, Marcus,” I said, thinking he’d simply made a mistake.

“Mom!” he whined.

“Surely, he can have two pieces. He’s a growing boy,” Aunt Eliza argued.

“Yeah,” Billy mumbled, “growing wider. And this is why.”

I kicked him under the table. Those words definitely didn’t fall under being nice or keeping the peace.

“He can have my piece,” James said with a sigh.

Billy glared at him, clearly appalled by his behavior. Grandpa, on the other hand, smiled at him in silent gratitude. Over the course of the meal, Grandpa and I both gave James a little chicken from our piece. For the rest of the week, we cooked extra of everything to be sure we had enough for Marcus to have a double helping.

After supper, we started decorating the Christmas tree. Grandpa put the lights on it by himself, and then we each put on our favorite ornaments. Tracey and Danielle whined enough that I had to share mine with them. I glared at their backs as they hung my “mouse on the moon” and mermaid ornaments on the tree. One ornament, though, I refused to give up. It was a beautiful ball made of purple glass with Marigold inscribed on it. I loved that ornament dearly because it had been my mother’s. I thought it was even more special because her first name was the same as my middle name.

Tracey tried to take that one from me, but I refused. To prove that I would never give it to her, I went straight to the tree and hung it on there myself. Tracey was not so easily deterred. As soon as I turned my back, she went over and tried to remove my mother’s ornament from its perch. Somehow, she lost her grip on it, and it fell to the floor and shattered. I heard the crash and turned around. When I saw the purple glass all over the floor, my eyes filled with tears.

“You horrible, selfish little brat!” I screamed, running toward Tracey.

Aunt Eliza intercepted me before I could cause her bodily harm. She locked me tightly in her arms.

“Don’t you talk to my daugh—Oww!”

I bit her arm very hard, forcing her to let me go. Then, I ran out of the house and into the barn, where I collapsed on a hay bale, sobbing wildly. Grandpa came in after me. He picked me up and let me cry on his shoulder. After a few minutes, I looked up at him.

“I’m sorry, Grandpa,” I said. “But that was my ornament, and she had no right to touch it!”

“I know, baby,” he said, “but it was still an accident.”

“But the purple ball was my mom’s. It was special!”

Grandpa brushed the tears from my cheeks.

“Yes it was,” he said, “but losing an ornament does not mean you lost your connection to your mom. It’s love that ties you to her, not a glass ball. The Bible tells us that love never fails.”

I sniffed, and he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

“Now I know she hurt you,” Grandpa said, trying to mollify me, “but yelling at Tracey was wrong, and so was biting your Aunt Eliza. You know what you have to do.”

I nodded. I had to apologize to the girl who had just broken one my most prized possessions and to her mother who had kept me from my revenge on her. I took a deep breath and looked at Grandpa. I’m doing this for you, I thought, but said nothing. The two of us walked back inside together and went into the living room where the tree was.

“I’m sorry I bit you, Aunt Eliza,” I stated calmly without making eye contact, “and I’m sorry I yelled at you, Tracey.” Then, I went to my room and lay down on my bed.

Billy came in after a few minutes to congratulate me for biting Aunt Eliza.

“But it was wrong,” I told him, shocked. “Grandpa made me apologize.”

“Maybe,” he replied, “but it was still exactly what she deserved.”

We both laughed, and I felt immensely better, although I was still angry at Tracey. If she’d been sorry at all, I might have forgiven her, but I didn’t think she was.

That night, after we’d all bathed and Danielle, Tracey, and I were piled into my bed, I heard a voice in the darkness say, “I’m sorry I broke your ball, Ally.”

I was so stunned that I didn’t respond right away.

“It’s okay,” I told her finally, and then went to sleep, hoping we were going to have a breakthrough in our relationship. No such luck. The next day Tracey was her normal self again.

The next few days sort of blurred together. There was a lot of crying and whining on their parts and feeling unfairly treated on ours. Whenever we tried to tell Grandpa, he’d say we needed to just try to bear with them. After all, they were only staying for a week.

On Monday afternoon, Cole cornered me behind the barn.

“Give me your allowance,” he said, “or I’ll hit you.”

“I will not!” I said defiantly, so he raised his arm.

“Hey!” James shouted, coming around the corner, “You will not hit her!”

He came and stood between us.

“What are you gonna do about it?” Cole said. “Grandpa won’t do anything.”

“Maybe not,” James said, “but Billy will.”

Cole considered that for a second. The look on James’s face told him that it wasn’t an idle threat. Billy and Cole were the same height, but Billy’s muscles were strong from sports and chores, whereas Cole’s were probably atrophied from lack of use.

“Fine,” Cole said sullenly, lowering his arm. “She’s off limits.” Then he skulked away with James glaring at his retreating back.

“What did he mean?” I asked. “That I’m off limits?” I emphasized the word like Cole had.

“Who knows?” James replied with a shrug. “I don’t generally understand that side of the family very well.”

I giggled and went to continue my chores.

The week continued to progress, and nothing too horrible happened. I hoped that maybe they would just go home after Christmas and leave us exactly as we were before their visit. Minus one very special Christmas ornament, that is. Unfortunately, I hoped in vain.

One of my favorite of Grandpa’s Christmas traditions was that we would read a little bit of the Christmas story each night of the week leading up to Christmas. Wednesday night before we had our family prayer time, Grandpa, Billy, James, and I were all sitting in the living room together. Aunt Eliza had gone to bed early because she had a headache, so her children were left to their own devices. Billy was just reading about Gabriel telling Mary to “Fear not” when we heard Danielle yell “FIRE!” from the kitchen. We all rushed in there and were relieved not to see flames, until we looked out the window, where a cloud of smoke was billowing out of the barn.

“Grab as many buckets as you can,” Grandpa told us. “I’ll get the hose.”

James and Billy grabbed buckets from under the sink, and I seized a large plastic bowl. Together, we ran outside and found Grandpa standing at the back door waiting for us.

“The fire’s already too big,” he said. “We’ll never put it out. Ally, go call 911, and boys, let’s try to get the animals out.”

Feeling helpless, I ran back inside, grabbed the phone, and dialed.

“911, what is your emergency?” a woman’s voice said.

“Our barn’s on fire,” I said frantically.

“We’ll send help right away,” she said. “Where do you live?”

I gave her the address and then ran back outside, my eyes searching desperately for my Grandpa and cousins. I sighed with relief when I saw them near the gardens, trying to corral chickens into the pen Grandpa had made for Rex. Rex himself was making the task much harder by running around in a panic and barking at everything.

I ran back in the house and snatched Rex’s leash off its hook by the back door. Then, I jogged over to my dog. I attached the leash to his collar, dragged him back toward the house, and tied the leash to the spigot to keep Rex out of the way. With that done, I went to help corral the chickens. When we were finished, Aunt Eliza and her children walked over and joined us, all entranced by the fire.

“Evan!” Aunt Eliza yelled suddenly. “Where’s Evan?”

“He was in the barn loft,” Marcus said, eyes wide with fear. “I forgot about him when I… I…”

We all stared in horror at the barn, which was quickly being engulfed in flames. Without warning, Billy sprinted toward the barn door, pulling off his shirt and covering his mouth with it as he ran.

“BILLY!” Grandpa, James, and I screamed in unison, and James tried to run in after him. Grandpa grabbed James and held him back. There was nothing any of us could do.

“Not him too, Lord,” I heard Grandpa whisper. “Please don’t take him, too.”

Please God, save Billy, I prayed. Please God, save Billy. I silently repeated my prayer, staring at where my cousin had disappeared.

It felt like we stood there forever, hardly daring to breathe. Finally, Billy emerged from the barn carrying Evan. He had his shirt over Evan’s mouth, instead of his own. Both of them were coughing, and when they got closer, it was clear that Billy had a bad burn on his left shoulder. Aunt Eliza snatched her son from Billy’s arms and covered him in kisses. Billy sat down hard on the ground, his head in hands.

Seeing his burn, James ran to the back of the house and filled a bucket with water from the hose. He walked back toward us as fast as he could without spilling the water. As he did so, the fire truck and ambulance pulled into our driveway. The firefighters immediately went to work on the barn, while Aunt Eliza, who was hysterical by then, ran toward the ambulance carrying Evan. Grandpa followed her, probably planning to tell them what had happened since his daughter was in no fit state to do so.       

When James reached us, he took off his shirt, soaked it in water, and laid it on Billy’s shoulder. Billy flinched but otherwise didn’t react. Two paramedics came running toward us about a minute later. In the middle of their examination, Billy looked up at us. He looked at me first, giving me a reassuring, if pained, smile to let me know he was okay. Then, he looked at James.

“Hey!” Billy yelled suddenly, pushing the paramedics away and moving toward him. “What happened to you?”

I looked to see what he meant and gasped. James’s stomach and back were covered in mottled bruises, ranging in color from dark purple to yellow and green. When James didn’t respond right away, Billy repeated the question.

“I said, what happened to you? Where did those come from?”

James sighed. “I wouldn’t give Cole my allowance,” he replied with a grimace.

Billy looked puzzled for a second, and then comprehension dawned on his face. He went rigid with anger and then turned and ran toward Cole.

It was fortunate for Cole that Billy had inhaled a great deal of smoke and been burned that day. It was also fortunate that the paramedics were there to restrain Billy after only a few punches. Cole was very fortunate that day indeed. If he hadn’t been, Billy probably would have beaten him until he needed a paramedic himself. As it was, Billy only got in one good punch before being forced to sit down and put on an oxygen mask. One of the paramedics looked toward James.

“You should come with us, too,” he said with a glance at the bruises. “We should x-ray those ribs.”

Then, they led Billy and James toward the ambulance. The rest of us followed them, unsure what else to do. Grandpa was standing right behind the ambulance’s open back doors when we walked up. Evan and Aunt Eliza had already boarded. Grandpa looked at Billy as he climbed into the back of the vehicle.

“Will he be okay?” Grandpa asked the paramedic.

“He should be,” he said. “We’re taking this one with us, too.”

He inclined his head toward James. Grandpa looked at the bruises covering so much of James’ torso, and his eyes widened in shock.

“What… What…” he sputtered, but the paramedic interrupted him.

“We need to leave now, sir,” he said. “You can meet us at the hospital.”

He got inside the ambulance and slammed the doors. The rest of us stared as it drove away carrying our loved ones.

“Everybody in the car!” Grandpa yelled after a few seconds.

I climbed into the back seat immediately, but I was the only one who did. Marcus and Cole started arguing over who would sit in the front. Grandpa solved this by saying that Marcus should sit in the front since he was older, although the real reason was that he couldn’t possibly fit in the back with me and the two girls.

Then, Tracey started crying, claiming that she didn’t want to sit in the backseat with me because I was too mean. Next, Danielle noticed that she wasn’t wearing any shoes and ran into the house to get some. When she finally came back, Cole decided he needed to use the bathroom. When Cole came back, he and Danielle began arguing over who would sit next to me while Tracey still refused to get in the car altogether. At this point, we were at least fifteen minutes behind the ambulance, and Grandpa had had enough.

“HUSH AND GET IN THE CAR RIGHT NOW!!!!!” he roared, every inch a Marine drill sergeant.

All three of them stared at him, clearly shocked at being spoken to in that tone and then without a word climbed into the car. We rode to the hospital in silence broken only by Tracey’s sniffles.

When we finally reached the hospital and entered the emergency department, we asked where our family was to be found. As luck would have it, Billy and James were given a room separate from Evan. All of Aunt Eliza’s children entered Evan’s room, which left Grandpa and me to go see Billy and James.

When we entered their room, they were both sitting up in their beds. Billy’s arm had been bandaged, and he had oxygen connected to his nose, but he looked fine. James looked okay as well, although we later discovered his torso had been wrapped with a bandage. Grandpa glanced at Billy.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Grandpa,” he said. Grandpa sighed with relief and then turned to James. “And what exactly happened to you?”

James sighed and explained his story in full, while staring at the wall. Cole, it seemed, had cornered James the Sunday after they arrived and threatened to hit him if he did not surrender his allowance. Since James refused, Cole carried out his threat and enjoyed it so much that he continued hitting James every chance he got, making sure to hit him in places that were covered by his clothing. By the end of this explanation, we were all flabbergasted.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Billy demanded.

“Because I knew you’d beat him up,” James replied matter-of-factly.

“Why didn’t you tell me, James?” Grandpa asked, clearly upset by what he’d unknowingly allowed to happen.

James looked him in the eye. “Because I was trying to be nice and keep the peace.”

“You know I didn’t mean for you to take that advice this far,” Grandpa told him.

James nodded, but remembering my encounter with Cole on Monday, I was confused.

“Why did you let Cole do this to you but not me?” I asked.

When Billy and Grandpa asked what I meant, I told them what had happened with Cole behind the barn. When I finished, Billy looked murderous, and Grandpa shook his head.

“I’m sorry, all of you,” he said. “I should have never asked you to put up with your cousins like that.”

“It’s okay, Grandpa,” Billy said, speaking for all of us. “We forgive you.”

At that point, the doctor came in and asked to speak to Grandpa alone. I learned later the doctor told him that Billy had a second degree burn on his shoulder and had suffered mildly from smoke inhalation. James had a lot of bruises, but none of his ribs were broken. James was free to go that night, and Billy would be discharged from the hospital the next day.

Meanwhile, in the other room, Evan had to be treated for smoke inhalation as well, but by the grace of God, he was fine, too. We all stayed one night at the hospital. Before we left on Thursday morning, the fire marshal came and told Grandpa that the fire had been caused by someone playing with matches. Thinking back to what Marcus had said during the fire, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together. 

When we arrived at home, Aunt Eliza instructed her children to pack their things. She didn’t say a word to us or to Grandpa. When they were all packed up and the kids were loaded into the car, which took even longer than it had the night before, Billy, James and I were standing on the porch with Grandpa. Aunt Eliza stalked over to us.

“Good-bye, Father,” she said stiffly.

“Why are you leaving early, Eliza?” he asked gently, putting a hand on her arm. She jerked away from him.

“Why?” she repeated sarcastically. “Well, you underfed Marcus. That boy (Billy) maimed Cole, that girl (me) tried to kill Tracey, and one of them nearly burned my baby to a crisp! They are the worst children-”

“ENOUGH!” Grandpa interrupted, and I was glad to hear the drill sergeant voice make another appearance. “You will not talk about them that way. Anything they did was in response to the selfish and cruel actions of your children. And as for the fire, why don’t you talk to your oldest son about its cause and thank Billy for risking his life to save your youngest?!”

Aunt Eliza bristled with indignation. “How dare you-”

“I’m sorry, Eliza,” Grandpa interrupted in a softer tone. “I spoiled you growing up. Your mom was sick a lot when you were young, and you were my baby girl. I just couldn’t say no to you. I see now what a mistake that was.”

Aunt Eliza turned away and marched toward the car.

“Please,” Grandpa called after her, “don’t make the same mistakes with your children!”

She opened the car door.

“Goodbye, Father!!” she yelled. “My children and I will never come back here again!”

With that, she got into her car and drove away. Grandpa looked sad and walked into the house.

“They’re never coming back?” Billy said delightedly. “I think that’s the best Christmas present they could have given us.”

James and I both smiled because deep down, we knew he was right.

I hope you enjoyed this deleted scene. I may post a couple more over the next few months. Click here to find links to buy Listening to the Rain.

Merry Christmas!