“I could arrest him on battery charges if you want,” Doug offers, and I feel bad for every homosexually derogative comment I’ve ever made at his expense.

“That’s tempting, Dougie, it really is. . . and I’d love to tell you to just go ahead, but I know that’s not what she’d want.  I think she just wants to put it all behind her and be done with it,” I say, flipping an egg in the pan.  “Then there’s the counter-battery charge the Leerys could slap on me.”

“How badly did you beat him?”

“I’m pretty sure I broke his nose,” I admit, and my anti-violence preaching brother surprises me.

“Good.” 

“I think so,” I agree.  “Are you sure it’s no problem, picking up Grandma and Aunt Jenna?  And then Mary and Lisa later on this afternoon?”

“You should be with Joey today.  If she looks half as bad as you say she does, she’s not going to want to be left with her relatives, let alone deal with ours.”

“Thanks, Doug.”

“Are you two coming by the house for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah,” I say, stretching the phone cord as far as possible in order to reach the refrigerator and the milk inside it.  “We signed up for Christmas Eve dinner with the wonderful Witters and Christmas Day we’re at the Potters.”

“Then I’ll see you later,” Doug says.  “Tell Joey I hope she feels better.”

“I will.  ‘Later.”

Hanging up the phone, I call down the hall, “Jo!  Breakfast is ready.”

I hear the shower shut off and I fill three plates, bringing them to the table.  Gretchen is busy slurping her third cup of coffee and she’s making a huge effort to get her eyes half open, leaning against the counter and reading the paper.

“How’s she doing?” Gretchen asks, her voice groggy but concerned.  “I mean, she looked horrible when she asked to borrow some clothes.”

“Physically?  The pain has lessened to a dull ache and her eye is partially swollen,” I say, pouring another glass of milk.  “Emotionally, though, she seems to be concentrating on making this a wonderful first Christmas for us.  She doesn’t want to let Dawson ruin the holiday and I fully intend to make sure he doesn’t.”

“Do you think Dawson is going to try and apologize?”

“Well, if he’s smart he’ll stay away,” I shrug, grabbing some silverware.  “If he thinks I gave him hell, wait until Bodie takes a look at Joey’s face.  But who knows?”

“Who knows what?” Joey asks, walking down the hall toward us. 

“Nothin‘, sweetheart,” I answer, my chest constricting at the sight of her.  She and Gretchen wear the same size jeans and she’s borrowed one of my sweatshirt, pulling her wet hair up into a ponytail.  Her skin is pale and flawless, which makes the purplish bruise that much more sickening.

“You don’t lie very well,” she comments, kissing me briefly before sitting down beside Gretchen.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Miss Josephine?” I ask her, sitting down myself and passing out knives and forks.

“Nothing.  My grandparents are coming down from Boston, along with my aunt and two cousins,” she says, spreading some butter on a slice of toast.  “Which should be tons of fun.”

Gretchen sets her coffee cup down, along with the newspaper.  “I get to explain to one and all why I’m not in college and hope to God they accept my standard ’I’m taking a break’ answer.”

“I get to tell all about how I’m both a junior and a senior this year,” I add, speaking around a mouthful of egg.  “Because I’m just that special.”

“I’m still president of the Woe Is Me Club,” Joey declares. 

“Well, there still seem to be some voters in Palm Beach County who aren‘t quite sure about that,” I argue.

Gretchen nods, lifting a piece of bacon.  “Seriously.  I demand a recount.”

“You’re both seriously deranged, you know that, right?” Joey laughs, bringing a napkin to her mouth. 

Gretchen’s smile is bright, which is a miracle considering since she’s only been up for thirty minutes.  “Welcome to the family, Jo.”

“Oh, thank you.”

After breakfast, I drive Joey home, the doors not even closed behind us when Bessie bursts into tears.  She hugs Joey tightly and lets out a string of curses so vulgar that Bodie and I stand there, amazed.

“Bessie, I’m alright,” she says.

“I’m going to kill the stupid fucker,” she says, taking Joey’s jaw in her hand and examining her face.

“Pacey nearly did,” Joey tells her, and I lift my bruised hand obligingly when Bessie glances at me.

“Thank you,” Bessie tells me, taking my hand and planting a kiss on my knuckles before turning back to Jo.  “Do you need any aspirin?  Are you hungry?”

“No, Pacey made breakfast, and I took a few Advil,” she says.  Throwing Bessie off the topic at hand, she lifts her wrist.  “Look what Pacey gave me for Christmas!”

Bessie oohs and ahhhs and Bodie gives me a “man, now I have to buy jewelry” look.  I shrug, saying, “I have to go pick up my cousin at the bus station and drop her off at the house.  I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, okay?  Do you need anything from the store, Bessie?”

“No, but thank you,” she says, and Joey kisses me goodbye as I step out onto the porch.  Bodie follows.

“Pace, I want to thank you for being there for her last night,” he says.  “For the longest time I’ve watched Dawson look at her like he owned her and only for Joey’s sake have I kept from punching him when he’s treated her like crap.”

“He seems to bring that out in a lot of people,” I comment.  “Dawson’s going to come and apologize sometime today, I’m sure of it.  Hopefully not while I’m gone but if he does show up I don’t want her to be alone with him.”

“Absolutely.”

“See you in a few,” I say, heading for my car. I intend to get back here as soon as possible, and spend as much time with her as I can. 

It's Christmas Eve, and by God, it's going to be beautiful for her.