Page 28 of The Christmas Keeper

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Saturdays at the alehouse are busy.

The day before Christmas Eve was pandemonium.

Kenan and I had run our asses off all day, and his performance after our elite supper hour had netted him over two hundred in tips and three encores. Seriously, the people of Whiteham adored him. And he seemed to really like them. It showed in his interactions with everyone while playing or even behind the bar. He was the calamine to my stinging nettles. The only person who seemed odd with him was Paula. To the point that she even tried to pull me aside during his time singing, but I was too damn busy to take ten to talk. Whatever her issue was, and I suspected it might be his religion, I didn’t have the time or the interest to hear it.

If Al and Glory could get over their problems with menorahs, so could she. No one was forcing her to come into my pub. She could go home to drink beer.

Other than Paula trying to have some clandestine meeting with me, everything else was coming up roses. The till was full. The patrons were smiling and Kenan’s tiny gifts were now sitting under a new tabletop artificial tree at home, right next to his grandfather’s menorah, on a side table that had previously held junk mail. We’d not lit the menorah’s candles, but we did plug in the fiber optic tree. It was enough. I’d told him it was silly to show off such tiny presents, but he merely arranged them as he liked and reminded me that the best things came in small packages which had led me to another quandary.

If you give someone Hanukkah presents, do you also give them Christmas presents? And if so, what the hell would I give the man who has brought so much to my life in such a short span of time? I’d ask Mr. Blum, but he was packing to fly out early tomorrow to spend the holidays with his sister in Daytona Beach. This morning when Kenan was showering I’d spent a few minutes scrolling online, but it was hard to refine my search enough to get decent answers. Gift for a man who has shown up out of the wintry blue to make your days feel like spring eventhough it’s colder than a witch’s titty got me some really odd, and somewhat disturbing, results.

So I’d shelved that worry for today, Christmas Eve day, and fell into bed last night, too tired to even give Kenan a decent goodnight kiss. We’d bussed cheeks, then fell right to sleep. Now I was awake, early given the lack of sun, and wondering what had pulled me from my sleep.

Kenan was sprawled out beside me, naked and warm in some cheery flannel boxers, when I heard the knock at the front door again. This time he must have picked it up as well, for he lifted his head, curls stuck to his whiskers, and gazed at me in sleepy confusion.

“Wassat?” The man was too cute when he was half-asleep.

“I think it’s someone at the door. Probably Mr. Blum dropping off the lasagna pan before he heads to the airport.”

“Mm, okay. Got to pee,” he mumbled, leaving the bed to yank on some superbly tempting gray joggers at the same time I pulled on some fleece sleep pants. It was exactly six in the morning. Dear Lord, save me from early flight travelers on Sundays. The knocker rapped on the door with a little more gusto. Poor old fellow was probably freezing his testes off. The temps of late had felt like they’d blown in off the back of a yeti. Hustling over cold wood floors, I heard Kenan flushing as I unlocked the door and threw it open.

“Surprise! Merry Christmas!” Nora and my parents yelled as tiny flakes of snow blew into my stunned face.

Kenan pattered out with polar bear boxers on his head and some sloppy joggers hanging off his hips. “Nesi’a tova,” he called out just as his gaze met my mother’s shocked face. “Oh. That isnotMr. Blum.”

Nora giggled. My mother gasped. Dad’s eyes flared. Kenan ran back to the bedroom.

I stared at my family, dumbstruck. “What the hell are you doing here?” I finally managed to cough out as my sister fell into a fit of unwarranted hysterical snickers.

“Was that a half-naked man with polar bear underwear on his head?” Mom asked.

“No, Mom, it was a half-naked polar bear with man underwear on his head. Here’s your sign.” Her scowl was deep. Hey, she was the one who made us watch all those Bill Engvall comedy shows when we were kids.

“It’s very cold out here, son,” Dad commented, shoulders up around his ears.

“Oh sure, yeah, come in.” I stood to the side. They filed in. My parents looked rather distressed and my sister looked giddy. “I just talked to you last night,” I hissed at Nora as my parents took off their coats and boots. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!”

“It was a surprise. We’ve not had Christmas together for years. So surprise!” She threw her arms into the air and then around my neck. I grumbled into her soft hair before giving her a quick, gentle, and hugely begrudging hug and releasing her. “Antoine is playing in Buffalo today, so he’ll be flying in later tonight for a day or two holiday break as well. I love what you’ve done with the place.”

“I haven’t done anything with the place since you were here last,” I replied, taking their coats and chucking them on the sofa. Mom rolled her eyes.

“I know. I was being facetious.” Nora gave me a pert hair flip and toed off her little boots.

“It’s quite telling that your son has a new boyfriend, and no one knows about it,” Mom commented as she stared holes at my bedroom door. “When did this happen” Her sight darted around the room. I sidestepped to block the tiny table of holiday cheer but was too late. “Is that a menorah?”

Nora’s eyes went round as dinner plates.

“He’s Jewish?” my mother asked.

“Yes, he is, and he is mortified to have met you in such an indelicate way,” Kenan said as he exited the bedroom, fully clothed, his smile tense.

“Oh my God, you are so cute!” Nora gushed and ran over to hug him. “I’m so happy that my brother finally found someone.”

And there were the tears. “Nora, come on, don’t cry all over the man,” I softly said as I tried to pry her off Kenan. She was having none of it. “She’s pregnant. She cries over insurance commercials,” I whispered to Kenan, who was, as to be expected, unprepared for a weeping woman to be boohooing all over his sweater.

“Don’t make excuses. It’s perfectly fine to show emotions,” Nora sniffled, then let go of Kenan, who patted her shoulder awkwardly.

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