The Last Noel. Heather Graham

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СКАЧАТЬ face. He worried that he didn’t look tough enough, but he wasn’t exactly planning to be a boxer. He was a musician, something that came easily enough in their family. He loved his guitar, and when he played a violin, grown men had been known to weep.

      It occurred to her that she hadn’t spent a lot of time with him in the last year, and this was a time in his life when he could use some sane guidance from his older siblings. She remembered being sixteen all too well.

      The opposite sex. Peer pressure. Drugs. Cigarettes.

      Once, she’d thought of him almost as her own baby. Even though there were only six years between them, she’d been old enough to help out when he’d been born. Then again, they hadn’t grown up in the usual household. Their home was by Boston Common, the pub closer to the wharf, and they’d all spent plenty of time in that pub. When she’d been a teenager, her friends had enjoyed the mistaken belief that she could supply liquor for whatever party they were planning.

      She could still remember the pressure, and the pain of finding out that some of her so-called friends lost all interest in her when she wouldn’t go along with their illegal plans. It wasn’t until she’d had her heart seriously broken her first year of college that she’d learned to depend on herself for her own happiness. That she could be depressed and work in her parents’ pub all her life or she could create her own dreams.

      Age and experience. She had both, she decided, at the grand age of twenty-two.

      She smiled at how self-righteous she sounded in her own mind. Well, maybe she was, but she knew she was never going to make the mistakes her parents had made. She wasn’t going to live her life entirely for others. Oh, she meant to have children. And it looked as if Uncle Paddy was around to stay. But she was never going to torture herself over her husband’s temper or the bickering that went on around her.

      To hell with them all; that would be her motto. God could sort them out later.

      But, for the moment, she realized, she was concerned about Jamie—and the fact he had been so quick to lock himself away. What had he been up to?

      She knew, despite her mother’s determination to keep certain situations private between herself and a particular child, that Jamie had gotten himself into some minor trouble up here last year. Luckily for him, a sheriff’s deputy had just come to the house and commented on how easily calls could be traced these days.

      “You’re behaving, right?” she said to him now.

      He’d been in his room since they’d gotten there. Of course, he’d made no secret of the fact that he thought she and Frazier should deal with their father on holidays, seeing as the two of them got to escape back to college after a few days, while he had to deal with his parents on a daily basis.

      Jamie just grinned and nodded toward Uncle Paddy, who had taken offense at Jamie’s last comment and was staring at his youngest nephew with his head held high in indignation.

      “At my age, a bit of whiskey is medicinal,” he announced.

      “Yeah, whatever,” Jamie said irreverently. “But the whiskey is downstairs. So grab your cane, and we’ll be your escort.”

      Kat grinned. Maybe this Christmas would be okay after all, despite its somewhat rocky start.

      “Come on, Uncle Paddy. You’re not that old, so move it,” Jamie said.

      “There is simply no respect for seniors in this house,” Paddy said. “The abuse your poor wee mother takes…” He shook his head.

      “My mother is neither poor nor wee,” Kat retorted. “Now come on. It’s Christmas, and we’re going to have fun and be happy.”

      “Yes, dammit. Whether we like it or not,” Jamie agreed.

      Kat reached for Paddy’s arm. With a groan, he rose. “Ah, me old bones.”

      “Your old palate can have a wee dram the minute we get you down the stairs,” Jamie assured him.

      Paddy arched a brow. “Are ye joinin’ me then, lad?”

      “Sure, it’s Christmas.”

      “Ye’re not of an age.”

      “Like you were?” Jamie said, rolling his eyes.

      “This is America.”

      “So?” Jamie said. “My parents run a bar. It’s not like I haven’t had a shot now and then.”

      Paddy let out an oath. Kat knew what it was because she’d been told as a child never to learn Gaelic from Uncle Paddy. Luckily, not many people spoke Gaelic, so they seldom knew what he was saying when he was out and about and swearing at the world.

      Now he waved a hand at them and headed for the stairs under his own power. “The young. No respect,” he muttered, then raised his cane and shook it at them.

      They both laughed and followed him downstairs.

      

      Skyler had all but the last of the food on the table when Uncle Paddy entered the kitchen and headed straight for the liquor cabinet.

      “Your beer’s on the table,” she said, her tone slightly sharp. She realized that she was looking over her shoulder, hoping that David hadn’t seen Paddy heading straight for the whiskey.

      “I’ll take a beer, too,” Jamie said cheerfully, coming in behind Paddy.

      “Jamie…” she said warningly.

      “It’s better than the hard stuff, right?” Jamie asked.

      “Actually, I think a beer and a shot have about the same alcohol content,” Kat said, following her brother into the kitchen.

      “What, now our son is heading straight for the liquor, too?” David demanded harshly from behind Kat.

      His words tightened the knot of tension already forming between Skyler’s shoulder blades as she remembered the “incident” with Jamie.

      “Jeez, Dad, would you lighten up?” Jamie demanded.

      “Great. I knew we should have gone to your family,” Frazier murmured to Brenda, as they walked into the middle of the argument.

      Take control, Skyler told herself angrily. All your life, you let things go, trying to maintain the peace. Now for once in your life, do something. “David, Jamie, please,” she said. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

      “We own a bar,” Jamie said. “What’s the big deal?”

      “Stop it, Jamie. Stop it now,” she said firmly, wondering why family gatherings had to be such a nightmare.

      “Pub,” David corrected irritably. “And that’s no reason for my kids to be drunks, too.”

      “Ye’d be referring to me, eh?” Paddy demanded.

      Take control, Skyler ordered herself. And finally spoke up. “Uncle Paddy, you have a drinking problem, and you know it. Jamie, you may have a beer. One.” She stared at СКАЧАТЬ