good seeds. We had hiccups here and there, and I try to stay connected to not only my own children but all of my nieces and nephews. As always, I am just trying to do what I think my father would have done. It’s around the holiday season every year that I have a few gloomy days just thinking about how much he would have loved this loud, rambunctious family we’ve produced.
As it is, the matriarch, her four boys, their four wives, nine grandchildren plus one of their wives, and a brand new great-grandson are all sharing one house for the holidays.
Typically, we just stayed in Fawn Hill, swapping houses each year of who would host Christmas. But Mom is growing older each year, and she mentioned wanting to do something special for some reason this year. Plus, it’s not every day we can get all the kids in one room. Most of them have boyfriends or girlfriends now or are constantly on the go with sports. This Thanksgiving, Presley, the kids, and I had been down in Virginia for one of Max’s soccer tournaments. He’s good, really good, and even as a freshman there’s talk of scouts and division one programs. So where his talent takes him, we go.
But this week is all about family. I recruited Max, with an expectant look, to haul the suitcases, groceries, board games, and Christmas presents piled in the back of our SUV into the house. Once I get inside, I get a good look at the coziest looking vacation home I’ve ever seen. A fireplace with a mouth wide enough for two of my brothers to sit in, a rustic kitchen with an updated range that Bowen would love making breakfast on, and a lofted hallway above the living room that leads off to what I could only assume are bedrooms.
“Dad, look at this.” Charlotte motions me over to a side room.
It’s a library, with built-in shelves full of books. I smile and wrap an arm around her shoulder for a side hug. “This is like your paradise. Go to town, ladybug.”
She’s my quiet one and loves to squirrel books away to read all day long.
“Babe, I’m taking the master.” Presley all but cackles from a room off the kitchen.
“That’s going to get you in trouble with Penelope.” I snort but follow the sound of my wife’s voice.
“She can fight me for it. After all, she and Forrest got the guest house on our North Carolina trip, and they’re practically empty nesters. We deserve it.”
With three kids still at home to Forrest’s one, I couldn’t disagree. “I’d normally say let’s keep it fair, but you’re right. Plus, it’s right by the kitchen, so maybe no one else will want it.”
“It has a jacuzzi tub.” My wife’s gorgeous emerald eyes spark with devilish thoughts.
I reach for her, taking her in my arms and pressing my body to hers. “How do we fast forward to tonight and make these kids disappear?”
When my lips meet her neck, she sighs softly. “Keaton.”
Still, after all these years, hearing her say my name does crazy things to my heart. I still wonder sometimes why her gypsy soul decided to stick with me, but I’m thankful as hell every day that she did.
“Gross! Get a room.” Max stands in the doorway, shielding his eyes.
“We did, this is it.” Presley rolls her eyes and places a soft kiss on my lips before backing out of my embrace.
Having kids may not have put a damper on our sex life, but it sure has made us get creative.
Over the next few hours, my brothers and sisters-in-law arrive, with Fletcher and Ryan bringing up the rear since they have Mom in tow. The women fuss over the matriarch, helping her inside and making sure she’s comfortable in a rocker with a cup of tea before she shushes them away. Then she calls the grandkids over one by one to ask them what’s going on in their lives. My mom adores each and every one of our kids, and of course, is going to hog Travis’s newborn baby all weekend. Forrest’s oldest stepson and his wife just had their first baby, and it has brought a lot of joy into the family. There’s nothing like a new little life to obsess over.
Walking through the house, I hear the kids laughing, the adults arguing over room assignments, Mom grilling Bowen on what ingredients he bought for tonight’s roast, and the soft cries of the new