Chords that Bind Ch. 17

"Hmmm... Not sure that's your best negotiating tactic."

"And a kiss?" Cecilia added helpfully.

"Go on then." James let her arms go just long enough to wrap her in a hug and claim his kiss. Cecilia hugged him back and smiled when he pulled away.

"Thank you for fetching breakfast."

"I thought it might be nice to do breakfast in bed. Besides, it feels a bit tense downstairs with Abe as worried as he is, and Clara being so withdrawn. We can join them later, but I thought we could just start the day you and me."

James agreed. He wanted to be there for Clara and Abe—Lord knows they were there for him. But until Abe and Clara smoothed over some of their tension, it was a bit awkward for him and Cecilia. He climbed out of bed, gloriously naked, and started fiddling with the seldom-used bedroom stereo. Cecilia wondered what he would play.

The iconic vamp played and Cecilia had to smile. Betty Carter crooned the iconic words, "I really can't stay..."

"You like this song?" Cecilia sounded surprised.

"Of course!" James handed her the coffee and small plate as he kissed her forehead. "Why wouldn't I? It's a classic."

"I don't know. It's just so—American."

"Say more."

"Well, it's not like the things you play. Not sophisticated."

"Maybe on the surface. But I love jazz and the blues. America made its musical contributions."

"Oh. I never would have thought that."

"I'll hold your hands, they're just like ice." James sang Ray Charles' part to Cecilia, and kissed her knuckles.

It was too much for her and she laughed out loud.

"What is it?" James asked amused.

"You sing too?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I guess I just have a hard time picturing you singing."

"Well I don't give concerts singing..."

"You keep surprising me. Any other hidden talents I don't know about?"

"You'll have to stick around to find out."

They finished breakfast in bed listening to Ray Charles and sipping their respective coffee and tea. James hoped this was the start of a new Christmas tradition.

"Is there anything else you need to do before tomorrow?" James asked, finishing his tea. He'd finished all of his preparations.

"Just prepare dinner." Cecilia snuck out to do her last minute shopping yesterday. Abe had caught her placing her last present under the tree. Everything else was all set.

"Should we pick up some different groceries for Clara?" James asked.

"I gather not. Abe said Clara's doctor said not to treat her with kid cloves."

"Alright. Good thinking."

The rest of the day was oddly tranquil after all the bustle leading up to Christmas. James revealed another of his talents in short order: cooking. It became apparent that Clara wouldn't be participating in preparing the dishes for the evening or for tomorrow's luncheon. No one was surprised, but it left Cecilia a bit overwhelmed.

She and Clara planned the menu weeks ago, before everyone realized Clara was unwell. James calmly stepped in, helping Cecilia prepare a crown roast with kitchen twine and switching off chopping onions and rolling out dough. By the time they needed to get washed and changed for vespers, Cecilia and James had dinner in the oven. Clara had yet to partake of anyone's company, so Abe would stay behind and keep an eye on the oven.

***

"You have a lovely singing voice too, you know." James said to Cecilia as they left the church.

"Oh, no, you heard me?"

"I was standing right next to you."

"Sorry. Can't help it, I like Christmas carols."

"I hope so. Otherwise you were just being kind the other night in Cambridge."

"Well, now that I know what it's supposed to sound like, I'm afraid I can't really measure up to that."

"Stop. I'm just glad you enjoyed it."

Cecilia smiled and started humming "Once in Royal David's City," embarrassment forgotten in her happiness.

The townhouse was flooded with delicious smells when they returned. The presents under the tree seemed to have multiplied in their absence, and most welcome of all, Clara was downstairs, dressed in a red jumper and black leggings. Cecilia squeezed James's hand when she caught sight of her friend. She was still on crutches and appeared bashful, but this had to be progress.

"It smells wonderful in here," James said. "Thanks for keeping an eye of dinner."

It was Abe who responded. "No problem. Glad I didn't burn the house down."

"Can I do anything to help you?" Cecilia asked, shrugging off her topcoat and showing off her velvet cranberry dress to full effect.

"Clara, is the table set?" Abe asked.

"Nearly, I just need napkins, a pitcher of water, and the wine glasses."

"I'll get the napkins," Cecilia responded.

All was well in hand. So James went to grab the finishing touch. It wasn't often that he decanted wine, but tonight felt like a fine evening to break out a show-stopping bottle: Before he died, his father laid down a case of 1999 Burgundy. James had only opened one a few years ago, and it promised to improve still with more time. He was glad he thought ahead and stood the bottle upright. He blew the dust off the label, inspected the cork, and gingerly began to open it.

Everyone else filed into the dining room, but James refused to rush decanting the wine. His patience was rewarded when most the sediment was left at the bottom of the bottle and the ruby liquid safely decanted into the crystal container. James would leave it to sit and breathe through the first two courses. In the dining room, the champagne was already merrily glittering in flutes.

"Ready for the first course then James?" Abe asked, pretending to be annoyed.

"Only if you're ready for a life-changing glass of wine later, Abraham."

For Christmas dinner, Cecilia and Clara held nothing back. Smoked salmon tartlets, leek and mushroom soup, a crown roast with all the trimmings and even a traditional pudding. Without James's help, (especially on the pudding) Cecilia wouldn't have been able to pull it off.

They said grace quickly and James started passing the miniature salmon tarts around the table. Clara politely took a tart, surreptitiously eyeing everyone else's plate as they tucked in. Appreciative murmurs filled the room. It seemed Abe, James, and Cecilia had come to a silent understanding that they wouldn't say anything about Clara's appetite—or lack thereof.

The soup smelled heavenly. The earthy mushroom aroma carried across the table, boasting of a sherry and cream enriched broth. Though Clara wanted to wave the ladle away, she allowed James to give her a bowl.

"Cecilia, outstanding job on dinner. This truly is a feat," Abe complimented her.

"I had help," Cecilia said mildly.

"I was just an extra set of hands," James said. "You were in charge of the kitchen."

Clara felt bad that she'd left Cecilia to tackle such a challenging menu. She'd looked forward to spending the day cooking together when they choose the dishes. Clara hadn't planned on eating most of it at the time . . .

Clara took a small spoonful of soup. "Well, I couldn't have done it better myself," she chimed in.

She appreciated that the other masked their surprise. "It really is lovely and silky smooth."

Cecilia gave a wide smile. "It was worth using the sieve then?"

Clara nodded and even managed a bite of the salmon tart. She was happy everyone was together. This was the Christmas they didn't have last year. Why was this so hard? And why was there so much food? They hadn't even gotten to the main course yet.

Abe tried to school himself to be calm and neutral. It seemed Dr. Olsen had been right about giving Clara space. Throughout dinner she only gave herself small portions, but at least no one had to coax her. She even let Abe put a chop on her plate with no objections, although she refused the mint sauce. He didn't understand her logic, but wasn't about to object to this welcome change.

Conversation was light, with a somewhat inauthentic air of breeziness, but it was because everyone was avoiding the elephant in the room. They applied themselves to the task of being grateful instead of wishing it were otherwise.

Clara ate food off her plate in an odd rotation. First a bite of lamb, then the buttered parsnips, then two bites of sprouts. She tried to tell herself that the sprouts were still healthy, even though Cecilia had obviously braised them with bacon. Dr. Olsen told her to come up with whatever rules she needed to in order to eat through the holiday. Maybe this 1:1:2 ratio would help fill her up before she ate something really fattening.

James deftly poured the French red as they tucked into the perfect medium-rare lamb. "Let's see how France tasted in 1999, shall we?" He made to skip Clara, as she hadn't touched her bubbly, but Clara spoke up.

"Would it be okay if I had a splash James? I-I-I bet it will pair lovely with the lamb."

"Of course Clara. It's not every day you get to taste the past like this." He gave her a conservative pour.

Dr. Olsen also said the only rule she shouldn't break was that she should enjoy the holiday as much as possible. Alcohol was all sugar, but James had turned the dinner into an even greater occasion when he opened this bottle. It was a struggle to be polite, but Clara saw the effort everyone else was making on her behalf.

"So where were we all in 1999?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant. "Abe, you first."

"Hmmm. Eighteen years ago... I was in the Marines then. I'd been in the service for a few years then. We spent Christmas somewhere in the Persian Gulf."

"Must have been lonely," Cecilia mused.

"It was a bit. But we were all lonely together aboard that ship. Some of the lads with family were given special leave. But I didn't have a wife, kids, or even a girlfriend then. It was better to stay behind and give the other fathers a chance to be home for Christmas."

"What about you Clara?"

"Mine was so different. I was still in school. I was dancing even back then." Clara struggled to sound normal as she mentioned ballet. "We did a local production of The Nutcracker. Our teachers and the upper-level girls did the solo parts. We didn't even have enough boys to fill the cast. One of the older girls had to play the mouse king! I must have been 12 or 13 then, so I was probably a snowflake. I was glad to be done playing a mouse." Clara realized she could practically track her life based on which role she played in the Christmas ballet. Strange, it had always been such a fixture in her life.

Abe redirected quickly. Clara had been difficult to read, but he knew they didn't need to dwell on dance castings at the moment. "What about you Cecilia? How were you celebrating Christmas in 1999?"

"You'll all laugh."

James narrowed his eyes and sipped his wine, impressed at the rich bouquet and beautiful color. He swirled it, waiting. Still Cecilia was reluctant to share her memories from Christmases past. "Go on. It's not fair if you don't tell us."

"You first," Cecilia countered.

"Alright. That's easy. I was here. On break from law school and trying to keep my parents from arguing. Clive was here too. In fact, I think he inadvertently started that argument. He got on me about my piano studies again. Mum and Dad didn't appreciate it."

"I'm glad you listened to him. It would have been a shame to let that talent go to waste," Cecilia said quietly.

James took a sip of wine, silently toasting his uncle. "But now it's your turn, Cecilia."

"We'll I would've been in middle school. We would have done an evening mass at church. My choir sang the music for that one. And that year I had a solo for 'What Child is This?' After we'd pick up Chinese food and have dinner at home."

"Chinese food?" Abraham asked.

"Yeah, my mom worked retail and she could never get off on Christmas Eve, so she couldn't make a big meal like this."

"Must have been kind of fun, though," Clara offered.

"I guess." Cecilia sighed. "I always felt like I was missing out, though."

"On what?"

"On this. A lovely meal with people who really care."

"Well, let's drink to that then. Happy Christmas everybody!" James raised his glass and the others did the same, clinking glasses and smiling.

It wasn't a Christmas miracle. Nothing, not even love, could work that fast, but there was a glimmer of hope that charged the air as they finished their meal. Even if it was only for tonight, Abraham felt some relief at seeing his wife resemble the woman he knew and loved.

***

"I wonder, as I wander, out under the sky..."

James and Clara were singing some of the more obscure carols that Cecilia wasn't familiar with. James, in his rich tenor sang a harmony against Clara's melody. Admittedly, Clara's talents lay elsewhere, but it was Christmas and James was in such a good mood as to ignore her thin vibrato and frequent flat tones.

All four of them were gathered in the attic, circled around the piano. Abe and Cecilia brought a thermos of spiked hot chocolate and a tray of sweet nibbles up, and all four of them were making rather merry indeed.

Cecilia had heard some of the songs before, and once Clara passed her a booklet with the words printed inside, she joined in. Even Abe, after his second mug sang the bass parts in his booming voice.

James knew these old carols by heart. He closed his eyes and listened to the rather imperfect choir assembled in his studio and didn't know if he'd ever had a better Christmas. Clara stopped singing for a moment and left Cecilia with an impromptu solo on "In the Bleak Midwinter." She may have missed a rest and didn't hold the notes where they were indicated, but James caught her mistakes, following her so that it was imperceptible. He wouldn't have done that for anyone else . . .

Years ago, as he was building up his music career in his off-time from law, he'd been asked to play for a community choir. He'd lasted all of 3 weeks before quitting in a huff; the 'conductor', as she called herself couldn't count music and wouldn't pick any real choral repertoire. James hated it and the amateurs who pretended to be so knowledgeable. Thank God, Cecilia didn't seem to take this so seriously. It was another thing about her that made her so perfect for him.

Eventually their energy faded and even another mug of hot chocolate wasn't enough to revive them. They said their "goodnights" and all settled in for a long winter's nap.

***

What time is it? Cecilia thought as she blinked her eyes open. She felt incredibly well-rested. They'd made merry until the early hours of morning. The sun was sparkling off a fine dusting of snow. She rolled over and found James leaning on his elbow, looking at her.

"Happy Christmas, Cecilia," James said in a low voice.

"Happy Christmas, Sir." Cecilia said with a wide smile.

Cecilia gave him a kiss on the cheek. "What time is it?"

"A little after eleven."

"Well, that explains why I'm so well rested. How long were you waiting on me?"

"Not very long. I only got up right before you did. There's no rush today anyway."

He kissed her, starting gentle but letting a faint edge emerge. After the frenetic activity of preparing for Christmas and especially cooking yesterday's dinner, it was glorious to have nothing to do.

Cecilia melted into James' kiss, holding nothing back. It let him take his time, drawing out a simple token of affection into a nearly torturous overture. Cecilia pressed herself closer to James, wrapping her legs around his and sinking into the comfort of their bed.

In no real hurry, James shifted until he was on top of Cecilia. He felt her complete surrender. It took just the slightest of cues for Cecilia to go right where James wanted her. That, more than the soft way she responded to his kiss now, or the way she relinquished control, was what had James strangely at her mercy. He'd do anything to have her sweet submission every day for the rest of his life.

James broke the kiss, smirking somewhat as Cecilia floated back down to earth. It was the only way to maintain some control of the situation. She reached up for him, and predictably, he caught her wrists and pinned them down on either side of her head. Cecilia felt her pulse quicken. "Sir...I..." she whispered.

"Shhh." James sat up. "It's Christmas morning." He sounded almost businesslike. "We can't stay in bed all day."

"But—"

James didn't even bother responding. He let her go in a rush and opened his wardrobe. He pulled on a dressing down and loose track pants. For someone who said he wasn't in a hurry, he dressed with gusto.

He turned to Cecilia with a brightly wrapped green box. "Happy Christmas!" he said grinning and depositing the box in her lap.

"Oh! Wait, I have yours downstairs."

"No. Open this one now." Cecilia had a feeling she knew what it was. She peeled back the wrapping paper and opened the box to find her suspicions confirmed.

"Should I wear this now?" she asked.

"I'd rather hoped you'd find an occasion to wear it soon," was all that James said.

Cecilia peeled away the blankets and happily pulled on the super soft evergreen tartan nightshirt and thick cream colored cable-knit socks that reached up over her knees.

"Warm enough?" James had searched high and low for something that would be warm and soft, but not frumpy. Looking at her, he though he'd struck the perfect balance. She looked adorable.

"Yes! Thank you!" Cecilia luxuriated in the feeling of her comfy loungewear for a moment before she looked up.

"Can I give you your presents now?"

James stalled. "How about we do breakfast and tea first?" He was nervous about the gift he was most excited to give her.

"Okay. I think we have leftover tarts from last night's dinner. I'll make the tea and coffee if you want to warm those up. And then I'm giving you your presents."

They went downstairs to find they were the first ones up. They set themselves to setting out an array of cheese and charcuterie, refiring some of the previous evening's leftovers, and brewing coffee and tea.

This was the better part of Cecilia and Clara's Christmas Eve menu: there was no need to lift a finger to eat today!

"What's that for?" James asked as Cecilia poured orange juice into a carafe.

She looked a bit guilty and bit her lip. "Well, after coffee and tea, I thought, since we don't have to do anything except enjoy ourselves today... we could have some mimosas?"

"And you thought I'd be disappointed in you or upset?"

"Well, it is early to start drinking..."

James laughed so hard he had to lean on the counter to keep himself standing upright. When he finally caught his breath, he gave a deep exhale. "Go on and get that ready."

"So you won't judge me?"

She was too precious like this. "As long as you won't judge me for the numerous times I've had harder alcohol earlier than this."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Can't judge you for something I don't know about," she teased.

James bit his lip. Best to be honest in any case. "Well, there was awhile there... As a matter of fact, that was the chapter in my life when..."

"...You were searching?" Cecilia finished the sentence for him, exonerating him of his past drinking habits and the poor judgment that had upended her life.

"You've managed to make that period of my life sound so innocuous. 'Searching' is rather an understatement."

"It's over, Sir. There's no way we can change it..." she sounded so pragmatic. It made James worry again at his profound selfishness.

"I suppose not." He swallowed and changed the subject. "Shall we enjoy breakfast in the den?"

"As long as you bring the champagne and orange juice too." Cecilia welcomed the diversion. She didn't like when James aired his regrets about how she came to be with him.