Home For Christmas

1. Prologue

    It was the same every year. Artie would make calls and try to find out what everyone's plan was for the holiday season. With everyone spread out across the nation, the only tradition old Artie was seeing every year was excuses. It hadn't always been this way. There used to be a time when all the kids and grand kids would trip over each other to spend the holidays at his big house. Those were the good old days when his wife was still around. Before her passing, she would often joke that everyone was really there to see her and not him. Turns out her jokes were quite accurate because when his lovely wife of fifty years succumbed to cancer, everyone stopped showing up for Christmas. Artie just assumed the first year was too tough because the first holiday was less than a few months after her passing and it might have been too soon. He let it slide and thought nothing of it. But now it had been seven years and not a single kid or grand kid had sat down at the massive table in his dining room to break bread with him on his savior's birthday.

    It wasn't like some of his kids didn't have good excuses. David was a surgeon and he spent his holidays working in free clinics to help those who couldn't afford health insurance. While it was admirable from a distance, deep down Artie knew that was a shield to protect David from criticism, something he did often to deflect negative things being said about him. Sorry I missed that play I never wanted to see, but I was too busy saving lives. It was like playing chess with a grand master. Even though you knew what game was being played you still had no chance of winning.

    There were the kids who had no excuses. Kim was a stay at home mom with four rug rats that Artie wanted to spoil endlessly. Yet instead of taking him up on offers of free babysitting and weekend to spend with her husband, he was rejected every time he reached out to spend time when them.

    Next was Richard, who was larger than life. Living what was his childhood dream, Richard was a professional baseball player. Making millions to play a game most people would do for free, he was also able to fly anywhere at a moment's notice but still had no time for his old man. Whenever they would talk on the phone, they would talk about all things baseball and nothing else. It was the one bridge they had left but Artie was sad that he wasn't closer to Richard beyond that. He couldn't be prouder of his son, but lately he had been living up to his name and was a real dick to his old man.

    Then there was Malcolm. Professor at an esteemed university and all round know it all. Malcolm never came for Christmas dinner because Artie never invited him. They were like oil and vinegar and fought every time they shared the same air. His youngest child also knew exactly how to push his buttons as if it were a secret talent that only he possessed. His wife would laugh at how good they were at setting each other off; it was like watching synchronized swimming she often said. He missed her more than ever, especially now that he had spent every holiday alone since her passing.

    This wasn't the way Artie wanted to spend his last years, alone every Christmas and only cooking for one. The previous year, Artie decided to do something different and didn't even invite any his kids over. He gave everyone the same treatment that was usually reserved for Malcolm and nothing changed and he got the same cards and postcards in the mail and nothing more. His attempt at reverse psychology was a complete and utter failure, epic as his grand kids would tell him.

    As the next holiday season approached, Artie had finally decided that he wasn't going to take it anymore. This year he was prepared to fight them tooth and nail to get what he wanted. Artie paused for a moment and thought about what that meant. What kind of dinner would he have if all of them had to be dragged in there kicking and screaming against their will? Artie knew that he would have to be more creative if he was going to have the happy holiday he missed so much. He had considered writing them all out of his will if they didn't show up this year. That was an empty threat because he didn't have that much left over and two out of four kids were millionaires. It was going to take some real trickery to get them all at the table this year but he was determined to make it happen... even if it was the last thing he ever did.

2. Bad News Spreads Fast

    He was sitting at his desk, marking finals when the phone rang. He was content to leave it alone but it just kept ringing. Fighting the temptation to toss the phone at the wall to end its constant nagging, the professor drained what scotch was left in his glass and then picked up the receiver.

     "Malcolm Jackson," he said with sharp tone, "Who the hell is this?"

    "Mal, it's Kim." The voice on other end replied.

    "Kim?" Malcolm said as he put down the final he was marking. "How long has it been? A year? Two?"

    "Too long," Kim said as she didn't sound very happy.

    Malcolm could tell there was something wrong by the tone of her voice. It was clear to him that his sister wasn't calling with good news.

"Kim, what's going on?" He asked.

    "It's Dad." She replied.

     Malcolm could feel a shiver run up his spine as she said the words. Despite the fact the he didn't get along with his old man, this wasn't the call any man wanted to get this time of year. Yet the old man was running into his mid-eighties, it was inevitable. "When did it happen?"

    "They found him yesterday," Kim said as she sobbed uncontrollably. "They said it was a heart attack and that no one found him until a few days later."

    "Shit." Malcolm said as he sat back and started to scratch his four day old beard. "Have you talked to David and Dick?"

    "Not yet," Kim replied.

    "I'll do it." Malcolm said as he could tell Kim was already broken up about it. Hearing hear cry on the phone was annoying enough, he wasn't going to make his brothers put up with it as well.

    "Thanks, Mal." Kim said as she sniffled a bit.

    "And don't worry about the funeral." Malcolm told her, "I'm sure Dad was insured and even if he wasn't we all have more than enough to cover it."

    "Thank you," Kim said again. They talked for a few more minutes and then Malcolm eventually let her go.

    He sat there in the middle of his empty office and thought about what just happened. He felt like a gladiator that was just told his mortal enemy was gone. He was like Batman without his Joker, lost and with a feeling of being incomplete.

    Malcolm poured himself another drink, and took down at least half of it before fishing his cell phone out of his pocket. He dialed one of the few numbers in his contacts list and waited for a few rings.

    "Hello?" the other side answered.

    "Dick, it's Malcolm."

    "What's up, Mal?"

    "Haven't talked to you in a while, nice season in Cali."

    "Thanks bro."

    "You were totally hosed," Malcolm continued, "You should have been the MVP."

    "I know," Dick said with a laugh, "but you gotta spread the love. So, why are you calling? I know it just isn't to talk about the game."

    "I just talked to Kim," Malcolm answered, "Dad has kicked the bucket."

    There was a long pause, as it was clear Dick needed a moment to let it sink in and his younger brother give him all the time that he needed. Dick was closer to his father than he was but no one was talking to him very much so it couldn't be as earth shattering as it seemed. It took a few seconds before the conversation took the usual route it always does.

    "Is the funeral covered?" he asked.

    "Probably," Malcolm answered, "If not we can go Dutch. Leave David and Kim out of it. Not like we're suffering."

    "No shit," Dick agreed as he was only entering the second year of his massive new contract that was worth well over one hundred and fifty million dollars.

    "Look, I don't like this anymore than you do," Malcolm said as he paused to take another sip of scotch, "But we're going to have to hold the funeral next week."

    "But next week is Christmas!" Dick said as he seemed surprised by the suggestion, "Can't we keep him on ice until next year?"

    "I'd prefer to keep him on ice forever," Malcolm concurred, "But Kim and David have a limited travel schedule and kids that only get so much time off of school. We might have to suck it up just for them. They're going to take it a lot harder than we will so we might have to do the heavy lifting over the holiday. You know what big sucks they can be. Remember how they were at Mom's funeral?"

    "Yeah," Dick confirmed as he thought back, "I can't see them being that bad for Dad. I mean when was the last time you even talked to the old man?"

    "Feels like forever," Malcolm answered, "We didn't exactly get along."

    "That's the understatement of the century." Dick said as he laughed. "Alright, we'll do it next week. Where are we going to stay?"

    "I'm going to book everyone for the hotel." Malcolm said, "I'll hit the phones and find something right after I get off with you."

    "What about David?" Dick asked.

    "It's still night where he is, I don't want to wake him up cause he probably has to work tomorrow." Malcolm replied, "No point waking him up now. The news will still be the same when I call him later."

    "Are you sure we need a hotel? We could always use the house," Dick suggested, "I mean if we're going to be there for the holidays, why not be together?"

    "Not my first choice," Malcolm confessed, "I'll do my best to avoid that."

    "Alright," Dick said as he understood, "But at least we have a back up."

    "I hate to ruin your plans," Malcolm said to his brother, "But you'll have to leave the warm weather of California and head home this Christmas."

    "Don't worry about it," Dick said as he didn't seem bothered, "The off season lasts three months, I got plenty of time to hit the beach."

    "Alright," Malcolm said as he wasn't in the mood to debate about it. "I'll see you in Wisconsin."

3. Coming Home

     Malcolm was unable to book any hotels, despite his best efforts. Even the great MVP of major league baseball couldn't convince people to offer a few rooms, even if he paid triple the price for them. There was no hope getting anything over the holidays, every place in town had been booked for weeks. They had no choice; they were all going to have to stay at Dad's house for the service and the funeral. Kim seemed to be the only one okay with this but the boys decided to put up with it just to appease their sister who was taking the old man's passing much harder than the other three were. The brothers cared about their sister so they decided to put up with the house for her and the kids.

     Malcolm caught the first flight over, beating his sister and brothers by at least a day. When he arrived to the house, things were all over the place. He picked up the few days worth of mail that had arrived, cleaned up whatever mess his father had left behind and even aired the place out a bit aware that a body was found not that long ago. As he was walking around, nothing seemed out of place. As he strolled into the living room there was something he couldn't help but notice.

     "Less than a week from the holidays and he's got no tree set up." Malcolm said to himself as it was interesting. His father loved the holiday but he could understand someone not bothering to even try if there was no one else to share it with. He hadn't put up a tree in almost a decade and he laughed at the thought that his old man might have crossed over to his side and turned into an atheist too. Not bloody likely, Malcolm thought to himself as he noticed the god cross that was still up on the wall. He strolled over to it and while he was tempted to toss it into the trash, Malcolm aired on the side of caution since his sister and brothers might notice it was gone. There would be plenty of time to toss out the old man's junk later when the house was sold.

     When the house was clean enough to his liking, Malcolm walked back into the dining room and set up shop. He whipped out two laptop computers, and put a box of unmarked finals onto the table. Once the laptops were fired up and connected to the internet, Malcolm spent the better part of the next several hours marking exams and doing his job. His laptop was connected to the university server so he would be able to get all his marks in on time so students wouldn't have to spend their holiday worrying about a course that was late being graded. Unlike most professors, not even a death in the family would stop him from getting shit done on time. Moments later there was a loud knock on the door. Malcolm tossed his glasses onto the table and walked slowly to the main door where the sound came from. When he opened the main door, there was a uniformed police officer standing there.

     "Can I help you?" Malcolm asked.

     "We had reports of someone being in the house." The officer said, "Can you tell me who you are and what you're doing here?"

     "Of course," Malcolm said as he wasn't upset by the questions. The house's only occupant was dead and they were making sure someone wasn't squatting. "I'm Professor Malcolm Jackson. I'm in town to attend the funeral, toss out all his junk and then put the house up for sale."

     "You're related to the deceased?" The officer asked.

     "He was my father." Malcolm answered. "My brothers and sister are on their way. We'll all be staying here because not a single hotel has a room available."

     "That's normal," the officer said as he took notes, "A lot of people come back from all over the country to visit family."

     "Not me." Malcolm chided back, "Once I finish my business here, I'm heading back to campus on the east coast and you'll never see me again. No offense."

     "None taken," the officer replied as he put the notepad away, "Thanks for your time and I'm sorry about your loss."

     "I'm not." Malcolm replied and closed the door without further explanation. He strolled back into the living room and resumed grading. He only had fifty more to go. Once they were finished, then he would be able to really get back to the work he really wanted to do. He paused for a moment and looked around trying to remember where the liqueur cabinet was. While he considered looking around for it, good judgement got the better of him. His brothers and Kimmy would be there tomorrow and he needed to get as much work done as possible before that could happen. There were eight children between the three of them and the house was going to be a circus. He had already called ahead to the funeral home and confirmed all the details. No one would have to do anything regarding Dad's services. Malcolm knew the others, especially Kim, would have a more difficult time doing it so he stepped forward and took care of it all for them. He didn't have to worry about paying for it. Their father has a life insurance policy that kicked in the moment he died so it was all covered. An unexpected benefit but Malcolm was not one to take a gift horse in the mouth. He consulted his watch to see it was now eleven in at night. He glanced over at large picture of his parents that seemed to be looking down at him.

     "Don't look at me like that," he called out to the parents of Christmas past, "I inherited this damn work ethic from you. Say what you want about me and what I stand for, at least I'm not a slacker. I work hard to earn every damn penny I make and I'm the guy who's educating the scholars of tomorrow. I was asked to lecture at Oxford next summer. Yes, that Oxford. Is that school Ivy League enough for ya, you old bastard?"

     Malcolm stopped talking as he realized that his words were spoken in vain. No one was listening so he might as well get back to marking his exams. They weren't going to mark themselves and he needed to get them done by morning. There was no way he'd ever get any more work done after that when the bleeding hearts showed up. That much he was certain of.

4. The Prodigal Sons

    Malcolm was woken up the sound of the door bursting open and feet stomping in through the main door. That could only mean one thing; Kimmy and her brood had arrived and were going to slowly infest the place until it was entirely consumed. Kim met her husband Dan when she was in college and as a result she never graduated and instead went home and became a stay home mom to a family that could almost fill an infield. Malcolm never had to worry about the family's legacy because even if Dick managed to torpedo his career like Pete Rose or Barry Bonds, Kim had so many kids that one of them was bound to do them proud. The odds were in the favor especially since Dan wasn't a dummy and offered some decent genes into the equation. Malcolm was wearing just jeans and a white t-shirt as he descended the stairs to greet the new arrivals. He waved to the few kids he could see as he came down.

    "If you're selling cookies, I don't want any!" he called as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

    "Uncle Mal!" one of them called out as he ran over and gave Malcolm's leg a bear hug that couldn't be broken with the jaws of life.

    "That's quite a grip you got there," Malcolm said as he tried to shake him off. "Have you ever considered getting into Olympic wrestling or rodeo?"

    "No," the young boy said.

    "You should," Malcolm replied, "You might excel in that."

    "Yeah!" the young kid said as he ran off.

    "Don't encourage him." Kim said to Malcolm once he was out of earshot.

    "The only thing I encourage is rational thought," Malcolm informed her, "A habit of mine since that's what I do for a living."

    "Is that so?" a voice called out, "And here I thought your job was to crush the dreams of young kids trying to get a quality education."

    "No, that's just a benefit." Malcolm replied as he watched Kim's husband Dan walk in with a few more suitcases. "When I make tenure I get the ability to consume their souls."

    "Whatever." Kim said as she strolled out of the room.

    Malcolm looked down at all the luggage. "Are you guys moving in or did you spit out a few more rug rats since the last time we talked?"

    "Oh no," Dan said with a laugh that was as phony as him, "No more for us. Six is more than enough. Four boys and two girls is more than enough to keep her busy. Where's Dick and David?"

    "They're still inbound." Malcolm replied, "They'll both be in before supper."

    "And have we any plans for that?" Dan asked.

    "I was just going to order a dozen pizzas and a few pounds of wings." Malcolm said with a shrug. "That should do it, right?"

    "Yeah, I guess." Dan said as he went up the stairs with the suitcases he had.

    Malcolm left the ones he took from Kim and walked into the dining room to see one of his nieces sitting at his laptop.

"What are you doing with my computer?" He called out to the young girl.

    "Trying to check my email." She replied.

    "You can't," Malcolm answered, "That computer has no internet connections."

    "Why?" the young girl asked as she was surprised by his response.

    "Because it's my writing computer," Malcolm answered, "I only use that for writing. I have other computers to connect online for.

    "Whatever." The young girl said as she left the table and the room.

    "Holy Deja Vu, Batman." Malcolm said as he closed the laptop and started to clear the table so no one would mess with his stuff.

    He strolled into the living room to see that at least four kids were sitting in front of the television and had turned to a show they all could agree on. Malcolm was surprised to see that it worked at all.

    "Note to self," he said out loud, "Cancel the cable service."

    "Not yet," Kim said as she walked in, "Unless you want to have all of them running around the house and screaming all day."

    "Not really," Malcolm said with a sigh, "We'll disconnect it after everyone goes."

    "So when do we get to see Dad?" Kim asked.

    "Never." Malcolm answered. He wasn't trying to be cruel, it was just the truth.

    "Why not?" Kim said, somewhat confused.

    "Because he's been cremated." Malcolm answered. "The only thing we're going to see at the wake tomorrow is an Urn."

    "That's a little cruel," Kim declared, "Even for you."

    "Don't look at me, sister." Malcolm replied, "This was all done before I even rolled into town. This was all done by the funeral home on special instructions from Dad's last will and testament."

    "Oh," Kim said as she had no idea, "I'm sorry."

    "It's okay." Malcolm said as he looked back at the kids who were all zoned into what was on the television. "Is pizza and wings okay, tonight?"

    "Yeah, that will be fine." Kim replied.

    "Just a quick question," Malcolm asked as he was curious about something. "How long has it been since your kids saw Uncle Dick?"

    "A while," Kim confessed, "We've all be very busy with life."

    "So, they haven't seen him since he became a sports icon?" Malcolm said as he couldn't help but grin. "Oh, this should be interesting."

    The house had managed to die down and become peaceful but that peace was spoiled when the next sibling parked into the driveway. There was no need to ask which one had arrived as the car that settled in behind Kimmy's van was a Ferrari that was worth at least half a million dollars. It was a bright red and was the kind of car that every boy grew up wanting to own. Dick Jackson was the kid that managed to live that dream as he owned five of them. Playing right field for the Los Angeles Dodgers was the job of a lifetime and the only thing he ever wanted to do. He used his talent to land a scholarship at an Ivy League college but soon dropped out when his value went through the roof. Being picked seventh overall was a bit of an insult but Dick didn't give a shit. He was a Dodger and the team that went first would live to regret it though he never would because he got to live and work in California.

    One of Kim's boys watched from the window and then looked back at his mother. "Why is there a baseball player from LA in our front yard?"

    "Have fun with that one." Malcolm said as he playfully padded Kim's shoulder.

5. An Unexpected Guest

    It took at least an hour, a few autographs and some catch in the backyard before the kids finally settled down after being introduced to their Uncle Dick, the all star from California. Dick wasn't the kind of guy to neglect family but he was the kind of guy who would mail out gifts rather than show up and hand them over in person. The funny thing was, none of them were the kind to travel for the holidays. David had been working in Africa for the Red Cross and was content to stay away because of the work he was doing to save lives. Each kid had their own reason to stay away and yet there they were; all under one roof for the first time in what seemed like a decade. The last time they had all been there was for another funeral; their mother's. Malcolm went through with his threat and ordered wings and pizza for everyone and while the kids had their fill, the adults really didn't have an appetite for anything. It was then time to leave and attend the wake. Everyone dressed up in what was usually their Sunday best and went the funeral home to stand and shake hands with everyone as they came in to pay their respects. The funeral director was very polite as he opened the main doors for them when they arrived.

    "It's nice to see you all." He said as he gave Kimmy a big hug. "Your father would have so happy to see you all here for him."

    "I know," Kim said as she already had a tear. An hour of makeup was already being ruined and they had just arrived. "Such a shame we are all gathered during what's a festive time to grieve."

    "I'm sure he didn't pick the date, Kim." Malcolm said as he was getting impatient, "Let's get this over with."

    Once the wake officially started at six in the evening, the people slowly started to trickle in to pay their respects. Malcolm stood there with his brothers and did most of the hand shaking while Kim was in and out and making sure her kids were staying out of trouble.

    "How long has it been since you were in town?" one man asked as he was shaking Malcolm's hand.

    "The last time someone in my family died, actually." Malcolm answered, "So forgive me if I hope we don't see each other again very soon."

    "Dude, cut it out." David said when he had a second.

    "Cut what out?" Malcolm replied.

    "You're being a tad hostile." David informed him, "Try to tone it down."

    "I'll grieve my way and you grieve your way," Malcolm told his brother. He wasn't in the mood to get a lecture from the good doctor. Malcolm never worried about being the asshole of the family because some0one had to balance out the goodness that Dr. Goody Two Shoes had oozing out every pore of his body.

    "Both of you cut it out." Dick said and that was it. Neither man was willing to piss off their oldest brother who could snap them both in half like twigs. Richard was always the tough guy of the house, so much so that even Dad never challenged him and pretty much let him do whatever he wanted. Malcolm was sure Dad let him because he was sure baseball was all Dick ever wanted to do and wouldn't do anything stupid to ruin his dream of being a big league player. He saw the focus Richard had and simply stepped out of his way and let his kid do the rest.

    It was an exhausting night and when the wake was finally over, Malcolm and the boys were happy to round up the kids and get them back to the cars and drive back to the house. As they were driving back to their childhood home, it had begun to snow. Malcolm had secretly hoped to skip town after the funeral but that didn't look possible now. If the snow got any worse, which was common for Wisconsin, they might have to push the funeral back a few days. A long week was starting to look longer for the professor who just wanted to get it all over with and leave. All thoughts of leaving were quickly dashed as he noticed something as he was driving up the road that led to their house. It was decorated with Christmas lights. As Malcolm pulled in, Kim and the kids and Dick were all out on the front lawn, looking at the lights.

    "What the hell?" Malcolm said as he walked up. "Who put these up?"

    "Not me." David replied.

    "Me neither." Dick called out.

    "Let's get inside." Kim said, "The kids are getting cold."

    When they walked into the house, it was soon discovered that the lights outside wasn't the only surprise waiting for them. Inside was a fully decorated Christmas tree, with tons of presents underneath it. The kids were all shocked with jaws dropped as they saw the set up. Malcolm on the other hand was not impressed with it.

    "Who the hell was inside the house during the wake?" he asked.

    "Look," David said as he pointed at the dining room. "The table is set!"

    All four of them walked into the dining room to see the table set and ready to serve supper. Their mother's good china was all out too, and napkins were folded up with professional care. Just when they thought all the surprised were revealed, there was one left waiting in the kitchen. He strolled out into the dining room and all four of his kids looked back at him with faces of absolute shock. There in the doorway from the kitchen stood Artie Johnson, their father, alive and well.

    "Thanks for coming." The old man said with a smile, "You guys hungry?"

6. A Christmas Resurrection

    It took a few seconds what was going on to register. Finally it was Kim who acted first, running over to the old man with tears of joy in her eyes. She gave Artie a big hug squeezing him as much as she could, afraid that if she let go he would disappear and it would all be a dream. But it wasn't her imagination; her father was alive and well and in her arms. A few of Kim's kids had come into the dining room to discover their grandfather was still alive, which resulted in them all screaming with wide smiles as they all ran up and gave their pappy a hug too. Artie had a tear in his eye as he gave the rug rats a good hug, one he had not given to the kids for years. When he finished hugging the kids, he looked them in the eye with a smile on his face.

    "There are presents under the tree," he said to them, "Find the one with your name on it and open it up!"

    The kids all raced off back into the living room, looking for their presents under the tree. Since it was Christmas Eve, no one seemed to protest the idea. Kimmy was just happy to see her father again as she hugged him a second time.

    "I'm sorry, Dad.' She said to Artie as she kissed him on the cheek.

    After she finally released the old man, he turned to face the three men who hadn't moved since they learned the truth. Dick finally stepped up and offered a hand for his father to shake, which the old man did immediately.

    "Well played, old man." Dick said and with that he also left the room. He was still processing what was going on and preferred to hang out with the kids than stay in the dining room and observe what he knew was coming next. He closed the doors between the living room and the dining room, making sure that the kids were not able to hear what was about to be said next.

    "Malcolm," Artie said to his middle child, "It's good to see you again."

    Malcolm took a deep breath. "You gutless son of a bitch."

    "Malcolm!" Kimmy said as she couldn't believe it, "What is wrong with you!"

    "What's wrong with me?" Malcolm said as he gestured to their father, "I would suggest you ask him the same question! Who the hell fakes their own death to trick their kids to coming home to visit?"

    "Obviously this man does." David answered for him.

    "David," Artie said as he turned to face his youngest child, "Are you all right?"

    "No, I'm not," David honestly answered, "But Malcolm is doing a fine job so far so I'll give the floor back to him."

    Malcolm couldn't believe what he was hearing. He and David never got along that much and were hardly ever on the same side. Tonight however was one of those rare moments.

    "Do you have any idea the trauma you put everyone through?" Malcolm asked but he didn't wait for an answer. "Those kids had to have the life and death lecture from their parents, only to find out that grandpa really isn't dead. So the next time someone really dies, they're not going to believe it and hope that the next person is faking it too. That's going to make the next death in the family a little harder to manage, unless it's you again."

    "Now that's unfair..." Artie said as he didn't like the tone he was given.

    "I don't care what you think!" Malcolm chided back as he then gestured to the man beside him. "This man is a surgeon! Do you have any idea how many procedures had to be postponed so he could be here today?"

    "Seven." David answered.

    "Seven!" Malcolm repeated as he pointed an accusing finger at Artie, "Seven lives that could be lost because this man wasn't there to save them! Seven people who didn't deserve to have their doctor taken away from them when they needed him most! You put their lives in danger for your own selfish gains!"

    "Boys," Artie said as he couldn't believe they were angry at him, "I just wanted everyone home for the holidays."

    "Well here we are!" Malcolm said as he waved his arms about in dramatic fashion. "Enjoy it while you can because this will be the last time you'll ever see me again. This was a new low, even for you."

    With that Malcolm stormed out of the dining room and down the hall towards the main door, put on his coat and had every intention of getting back into his car and leaving for good. When he opened the main doors he learned that fate had other plans for him. It was blowing snow outside as a storm had rolled into town just after the wake. The weather was so intense that you couldn't see more than five feet in front of you. It looked like a blizzard and there was no telling how long it was going to last. Since all the hotels in town were still sold out, it meant that Malcolm and anyone else there were trapped and forced to spend the holidays with their father, who was no longer in an urn.

    David walked up to Malcolm and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to stay either but I'd rather put up with Artie and Kim for a day or two than risk going out in that weather. Let's do our best to make sure no one attends an actual funeral this week, alright?"

    "Malcolm," Artie said as he walked out into the hallway, "I'm sorry."

    "So am I," Malcolm replied, "Sorry I ever cared enough to show up."

    "At least come in for dinner." Artie pleaded, "I made a turkey."

    Malcolm's stomach grumbled a bit after hearing that and he turned to look at David who was still standing beside him.

    "Put on a good face for the kids," David whispered into him, "We'll start round two after they're all tucked into bed for the night. Then you can let him have it with both barrels, metaphorically speaking of course."

    Malcolm smiled at his brother and then turned to face Artie. "Did you at least make the stuffing I always liked?"

    "Of course I did." Artie said as he was pleased to hear the question.

    "Alright then," Malcolm said as he took his coat back off, "Let's eat."

7. Hostilities Renewed

    The kids had their fill, so they were content to stay in the living room with their presents. The four adults joined their now resurrected father in the dining room as he brought out the carvings from the turkey as Kim helped put out all the sides, including the stuffing that Malcolm had asked about. The first few minutes of the meal were eerily quiet, as they all sat there and munched on their food. Finally the old man broke the silence as he wanted to interact with his children.

     "The weather looks pretty miserable out there." He said to them, "You're all welcome to stay here for the night or however long it takes for things to clear up. We don't want anyone to get hurt trying to get out of Dodge."

    "Well," Malcolm staid between bites, "It would have been easier on everyone if you faked your death around Easter. The weather would have been nicer and your resurrection would have been more symbolic."

    "Malcolm," Kim said under her breath, "I thought you were going to be polite."

    "Oh, this is polite," Malcolm replied, "Wait until the kids are in bed and I take the gloves off after a few glasses of scotch."

    "All this anger," Artie said as he looked at his son, "What did I ever do to deserve this kind of hostility?"

    "Nothing," Malcolm answered, "And that was the problem. You were never here."

    "So you would rather we be poor and without stuff just so I'd be home from work more often?" Artie asked, "I had work to do and I did my best to support all of you. I was trying to be a responsible person."

    "Being responsible means being there." David said as he chimed in. "You could have tried to find a middle ground; what I've learned is that there's always a middle ground. You don't have to pick between two extremes."

    "So two wrongs make a right?" Artie then countered, "If it was so bad for me to be away all the time, what's your excuse?"

    "Did it ever occur to you that we had our own plans for the holidays?" Malcolm answered as there was a hint of bitterness in is voice.

    "You mean besides the usual holiday fare?" Artie countered.

    "I had a date." Dick replied as he finally spoke up.

    "You did?" Artie said as he was excited, "With whom?"

    "Jane Lewis." Dick replied, waiting for the response.

    "Really?" Kim called out with a shocked face.

    "The actress?" Davie asked, somewhat surprised.

    "Nice." Malcolm said as he nodded before taking more stuffing.

    "Not anymore," Dick replied as he looked back to his father, "Once she finds out that you're still alive, she's going to assume I came here to avoid going out with her and I might not get another chance."

     "I was supposed to remove a cancerous tumor from an eleven year old girl." David said as he found Dick's reasons trivial in comparison. "While I am sure the doctor who went ahead and did it was competent enough, I would have preferred to have taken care of her myself to be sure everything went right."

     "I'm sorry David," Artie said quietly to David.

     "That's not the half of it," Malcolm said as he was starting to warm up, "If David's hospital finds out you're not dead, they could accuse David of faking it with you so he could get the holidays off. In many companies, that's a fireable offense."

     "He could?" Artie replied as he had no idea.

     "Let's not get carried away," David said with a grin, "I might get a reprimand but they're not foolish enough to let me go over something like this. They wouldn't want to risk losing me to another hospital."

     "Watch it there, sport." Malcolm said as he patted his shoulder, "Anymore of that talk and your ego will be almost as big as Dick's."

    "Is that even possible?" David asked.

    "Not likely," Dick said as he had a good laugh at his own expense.

    "I'm sorry Dad," Kim then said as she chimed in, "I didn't have anything important to do, besides watch the kids. I didn't mean to stay away, life just got in the way a lot and I didn't want to take the kids away from their father during the holidays."

    "A dad who wants to be with his kids? What a concept, eh Artie?" Malcolm said as it was delivered with the subtly of a sledge hammer to the skull.

    "And what about you?" Artie replied as he turned to Malcolm, "What's your excuse? Did you have a date? Lives to save? Or did I keep you from an appointment with a word processor and a bottle of scotch?"

     Malcolm looked back at the old man before tossing his napkin onto the table. "Fuck you, Artie."

    "Malcolm!" Kimmy said with a stern look that resembled his mother.

    "Leave it to you to ruin a perfectly good funeral." Malcolm said with disgust as he stood up to leave, "Next time do us all a favor and actually die."

    Everyone watched in stunned silence and watched as he left the dining room.

    "If that's holding back," David said as he looked back at everyone else, "I'd hate to be in the line of fire when he actually cuts loose!"

8. For The Love Of A Game

    After Malcolm stormed out of the room, Artie decided to change the subject and try to salvage what was left of what could be his only Christmas dinner for quite some time. He turned to Dick first, eager to use a favorite subject both he and his eldest child liked to use to break the ice.

    "That was quite a season you had this year, slugger." Artie said with pride, "You made the forty-forty club; that is not an easy feat. I cannot begin to tell you how proud I was of the effort you and team made in the playoffs. A tough ending but you guys put your all into it."

    "Thanks Dad," Dick said as he something seemed to be festering inside him much like it had with Malcolm. "When was the last time you saw me play?"

    "Excuse me?" Artie asked, surprised by the grilling.

    "Really, Dick?" Kim said as she tossed her fork down. "Is fighting the only thing we're going to do tonight?"

    "It's all right Kimmy," Artie said as he held up a hand to wave her off. "He clearly has something he wants to get off his chest; let him."

    "I can count on one hand how many games you saw as I was growing up." Dick said as he seemed hurt by it, "It seemed like you didn't have time to take part in something that was really special."

    "Tell me Richard," Artie started as he also put down his fork, "How did you play the few times I did show up?"

    Dick paused for a moment. "I can't remember."

    "That's bullshit." David said from across the table. "Those were some of the most awful games you ever played. I think you struck out four times during one of them."

    "He did." Artie confirmed, "For some reason, if you knew I was there you played terribly. I felt like a bad penny, holding you back from what you could be."

    "So you stopped going," Dick said as he didn't seem to understand the logic, "Does that seem reasonable to you?"

    "I never stopped going." Artie corrected him, "I just stopped telling you that I was there."

    "What?" Dick said as he wasn't ready to hear that. "You were there? When?"

    "How about I answer your first question," Artie said as he got up out of his chair and walked over to the cabinet that held the fine china. He took out a small box and walked back to the table with it. When he opened it up, there were a lot of small pieces of paper inside it. But Dick could tell immediately that they were not just regular pieces of paper. They were tickets; a lot of tickets to baseball games.

    David looked at it from his side of the table, "How many tickets is that?"

    "At least fifty," the old man said as he filed through them and finally pulled out a ticket stub that had the logo to Dick's team on it. "Here we go, July 4th of this year. You guys whopped the Athletics by a dozen runs. You hit three homers that day. Funny thing about that game was on TV there was a delay after Dick hit his third homerun. The fans assumed it was because Dick got a long standing ovation but it wasn't. There was a streaker that was pretty fast, it took security a few minutes to catch him. But because Dick was still waving his hat around, they assumed the delay was because of the applause."

    "That's right, there was a streaker." Dick said as he took the ticket and looked at it. It was a legitimate ticket stub to his stadium and according to it, he was in the top deck which fans called the nose bleed seats because they were so high fans would joke their noses would bleed from being so high. He looked back up his father. "You were in town all these times and you never told me?"

    "So I could watch you strike out four times again?" Artie said as he took back his ticket. "That wouldn't be fair to me or the thousands of fans who paid to be there."

    "How many games did you see this year?" Dick then asked.

    "I'd estimate I've seen at least a dozen every season." Artie said as he then gestured to the living room, "I caught the rest on TV."

    "On television?" Dick asked, "How you get all of my games from California here in Wisconsin?"

    "That's really interesting," Artie continued to explain, "I got a machine that I needed one of my neighbor's sons to help me set it up. Yet once it was online and connected to the internet I was able to use program that lets me see every game for every team outside the state. It records every game so if I missed the game live; I could still watch it later. I saw every game Dick, you were amazing to watch."

    "I had no idea." Dick said as he took the box and looked at all the tickets. Not only did he attend quite a few games in California, there were even tickets to all-star games and even some playoff games. "You were in New York for last year's playoff?"

    "I was." Artie confessed as he beamed with pride, "I even took some trips to see you play when you were in college. Your mom and the kids thought I was on a business trip, but I made the trip to campus to see you play."

    Now Dick felt bad for attacking the old man. Turns out he had hidden his visits to prevent Dick from buckling to the pressure he felt as a kid. He had a tear in his eye that he wiped away as he handed the box of tickets back to him. "Are you going to a game next season?"

    "Of course I am," Artie said as he planned trips at least once a year. He was already making plans for his next trip to Los Angeles.

    "Well, no more hiding in the nose bleeds." Dick told him, "I want you front and center. I'm a professional now and small stuff like that doesn't get to me anymore."

    "Alright," Artie replied, "But only if you let Kimmy and the kids come with me. I have a feeling your nieces and nephews would like to see Uncle Dick play now that they realize who he is."

    "Oh yeah," Kim said as she put her arm around Dick, "The boys definitely want to see a few games next year."

    "I'd love to be there with them too." Artie said, "If you can handle it."

    "I can and I will," Dick said with a fire burning deep inside.

    "Here's to next season," Artie said as he raised his glass, "Maybe next year you'll join the fifty-fifty club?"

    "Really?" Dick said as he couldn't believe the gall, "Forty-Forty isn't enough?"

    Everyone had a good laugh as the dinner had finally taken a lighter tone but it wasn't going to last very long.

8. A Truth Revealed

     When dinner was complete, David and Dick volunteered to clear the table and do the dishes while Kim wanted to check on the kids and see what they got for the holiday. Artie on the other hand felt it was time to take another run at Malcolm and see what he was up to. The old man paced the hallway, checking one room after another only to find his middle son in the den, with two laptops open on Artie's big desk and a glass of scotch with a very generous helping and two ice cubes. As Artie slowly walked into the den instead of saying something he instead walked over to the liquor station and poured himself a glass, and only tossed in one ice cube. Artie didn't like to water down his drink but Malcolm wasn't a sipper so two ice cubes didn't make a difference unless it was consumed on hot summer days. After pouring the drink, Artie walked over and took a seat on one of the leather chairs that sat in front of his desk.

    "Two laptops?" Artie said as he finally broke the silence, "Is that necessary?"

    "Yes, it is." Malcolm said as he never looked up from one of the monitors. "One of them is my writing computer. Some of us writers find a program that we like and once that happens, we stick with what's comfortable. But when it came to upgrade, it was cheaper to get a new computer than replace the parts in this thing. So I use one laptop for my writings and another for online research and communication. The word processor you were so eager to diss happens to be something I am very comfortable with and the more comfortable I am the better I write. Is that too hard for some people to understand?

    "It's not," Artie said as he took a sip, "I also see you're not easing up on the drinking."

    "It's not illegal," Malcolm replied, "Write drunk and edit sober is a mantra that I often live by."

    "Your mantra?" Artie asked.

    "No," Malcolm answered, "That gem belongs to Earnest Hemingway and I think it worked out alright for him."

    "I don't like you when you're drunk." Artie declared.

    "I don't like you when I'm sober or drunk." Malcolm chided back.

    "You're holding a lot of hostility," Artie continued, "Why not get it out now and let me know where this anger is coming from rather than waiting until the day I'm really gone to make your peace."

    "Do you know when we started to butt heads?" Malcolm said as he sat back and took a swig of his scotch, "When we stopped getting along?"

    "I'm thinking ten years ago," Artie guessed, "It was long before your mother passed because she noticed it as well."

    "It was fifteen years ago," Malcolm corrected him, "The day I became a father."

    Artie paused for a moment and cocked an eyebrow, "You don't have kids."

    "That would be incorrect," Malcolm said as he stood up and walked over to the liquor station to pour a refill. He was always more eager to drink when it wasn't his sauce that was being horded. "I have two children, fraternal twins."

    "Where are they now?" Artie asked, somewhat surprised.

    "On the east coast," Malcolm replied as he returned to the desk chair, "Living comfortably with their mother as per her request. We never loved each other so we never pretended to but we function as mature adults when it comes to raising those kids. I've never missed a single payment nor a weekend visit. I know what it's like to be a parent, which is when I started to question your record as one."

    "I never claimed to be perfect," Artie responded, "Nor father of the year."

    "You're even worse than that," Malcolm continued, "There are things you've done to us that I would never dream of doing to my kids. I love my kids more than I love myself and that's saying something because I love myself a whole lot if you haven't all noticed already. I'd take a bullet for them and I would go broke trying to help them chase their dreams."

    "There we go," Artie said as he got the point, "This is about money."

    "Not anymore," Malcolm said as he gestured to the computers, "I'm a bestselling author, outspoken critic and scholar. You had nothing to do with that as I made it in spite of you rather than because of you. Neither of you ever supported my choice to become a writer, you acted liked it was a faze rather than a career choice. How do you think I felt when I found out through the grapevine that you guys inherited a hefty sum from Grandma's passing and that you blew the whole thing on yourselves while at the same time I was struggling and fighting to chase my dreams? Do you have any idea what it feels like to know that your parents preferred a new deck for their pool rather than invest in their son?"

    "I didn't see it as a worthy investment," Artie confessed.

    "It's an investment that would have yielded a great return," Malcolm told him, "I could have paid your house of five years later. But that's not the point."

    "What is your point, Malcolm?" Artie asked.

    "The point is you're my father," Malcolm replied, "Your job is to encourage a child to excel, not to judge them. To be that shoulder to lean on when times are tough. To show them there's one person who has their back rather than ignore them when they're trying to make it. You didn't even help with school and I racked up a massive student debt. I did all this on my own and while I'm proud of doing that despite the opposition, it would have been just a hair easier if you guys acted like real parents and supported my decisions."

    "Some of us still don't consider it real work." Artie said, sticking to his guns.

    "It is real work!" Malcolm roared as he threw the glass he was holding against the wall, breaking it. "I don't need your approval of my decisions. What I do is legit and contributes to society. I inspire people with my art and I am proud of my work. And here's the difference between us, when my kids chose what path they want to take in life they'll have my support and love regardless of my opinion of that choice. It's my job to be there for them, not walk away when I'm needed most. That's where the rift started; the things you've done or never bothered to show up for are things over the years that I would never knowingly do to my kids. Because you did that makes you a failure as a father in my books. The fact that you had to fake your own death just to get people to visit for the holidays proves what little we really think of you. Do you think you've changed anything this year? I can't speak for Kim and the guys but I'll speak for myself. When I leave after this storm passes, you'll never see me again. You're a bitter, stubborn old fool and you deserve to die alone."

    "Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel," Artie said as he finished his glass and put it down on the small table beside his chair. "I don't have to defend myself to you Malcolm. I did the best I could with what I had. You fared far better than most kids in the country did whose fathers ran off to never be heard from again. The fact that I bothered to raise you at all and put up with your bullshit automatically puts me in the top thirty percent and I did more than just give a crap. I worked hard to provide. You went to bed every night with a full belly and a blanket to keep you warm, so I find it offensive that you question the means in which I provided it! I never said I was the best father, I didn't even say I was good but I wasn't a bad one. Not even close. So when my time is really up, I will die knowing that I did my best and that will be good enough for me."

    "That's not true," Malcolm said as he sat back down and smiled, "As long as there are libraries on this world and websites to download material from our story, at least my interpretation of it, will carry on for generations to come. When your son is a writer, for better or for worse, you will never die."

    "You really think that highly of yourself?" Artie replied, "Like Hemingway?"

    "I like to think there's a little Ernest in all of us," Malcolm said, "But I'll think about your cusses with jest when I'm lecturing at Oxford next summer."

    "Well we know where that stubbornness comes from." Artie said as he stood up to leave the room.

    "I'd like to thank you," Malcolm called out.

    Artie stopped at the door, "What for?"

    "For going out of your way to concoct this entire spectacle of faking your death to trick us into coming home for the holidays," Malcolm answered, "I actually smell another bestseller brewing in my fingertips.

    "I'll leave you to it then." Artie said as he continued to walk out.

    "Close the door on your way out," Malcolm said as he didn't look up to watch him go, "Some of us have work to do."

10. A Late Night Tradition

     Malcolm had been in the den for the better part of five hours, pounding the keys of his keyboard as if they owed him money. After a few generous rounds of scotch and some heated words with Artie, Malcolm was in the zone and spinning off one page after another. He could feel the words pouring out of his chest, as if it were a damn and a crack had finally broken and the waters were flooding out. There was even a hint of a smile on Malcolm's face as he continued to type away. The kids had gone to bed around nine and soon after that the adults started to drop one at a time. Somewhere around two in the morning, David gently knocked on the den door as he came in.

    "You weren't kidding when you told us you were a night owl," David said as he walked over and sat in the chair Artie had taken only hours ago. "You're really giving it to that keyboard there bro."

    "Passion is passion," Malcolm said as he finally stopped to take a break. "It doesn't matter if it's love or hate, both of them can open one's heart to the art. I don't care which end it comes from as long as I get results."

    "You must be hungry," David said as he made a gesture to the door, "Wanna raid the fridge for leftovers? You know how much Dad hates it when we do that."

    Malcolm thought about it for a moment and smiled when he remembered how much his Dad detested it when leftovers disappeared in the night. They're supposed to be for another meal, the old man would often tell them. Part of Malcolm had always thought Artie was upset cause he wanted to eat it but now simply assumed the old man was trying to stretch the food in an effort to be cheap. The more he thought about it, the more he loved the idea.

    "I'm due for a break," Malcolm said as he put his glasses onto the keyboard, "Let's hit the fridge."

    The two of them tiptoed into the kitchen as they had many holiday evenings. They were like ninjas, moving without making a single sound in order to reach their objectives undetected. Once in the kitchen, Malcolm only used the ceiling lights so he could turn them on slowly, sticking with a faint dim rather than flooding the whole room which light which would give away their position.

    "Nice touch." David said as he agreed with the idea.

    "The fridge itself will provide the rest of the light we need," Malcolm added, "and I get the stuffing."

    They started to dig into what was left in the fridge, moving bowls the island that was in the middle of the kitchen. There were some stools that the men sat on as they grabbed a few forks and started to dig in again the second time that night.

    "Don't hog all the dark meat," Malcolm said as he looked like he was going to stab David's hand with his fork.

    "I'm a white meat person," David replied, "it's all yours."

    "You are?" Malcolm said as he laughed, "Sorry, man."

    "There's a lot you don't know about me," David said to him before taking a mouth full of cold mashed potato.

    "I know," Malcolm said as he stopped stuffing his face with stuffing. "I'm sorry about that. Is there anything critical that I should know about?"

    "Besides that fact that I happened to be married?" David asked.

    Malcolm paused for a moment. Turns out he wasn't the only son holding out on the rest of the family. He thought about it for a moment. Why would David want to hide the fact that he's married? He thought what detail would want him to keep it from everyone and especially from their father. The moment he thought about Artie and what kind of man he is the answer came to Malcolm and he smiled.

    "What's his name?"

    David let out a big sigh the moment Malcolm asked the question. He was surprised his brother was able to put it together by himself but was finally relieved that he could talk to someone about it. "It's Jacob."

    "He's a lucky guy." Malcolm said as he then resumed eating his stuffing.

    "That's it?" David asked.

    "What more do you want me to say?" Malcolm said as he stopped again. "This is the twenty first century and I change with the times. When you teach on a campus that mutates with the time like a chameleon, you either change with them or become irrelevant. The Supremes pretty much legalized it last summer. Is there any other legal activity I should be scolding you for?"

    "I'm surprised," David honestly told him, "I thought you and Artie would take it the worst out of everyone."

    "To be honest, our views on your marriage shouldn't mean Jack," Malcolm said to his brother, "Do you honestly think how you like your eggs is going to change anything? I'm not that kind of guy and I like to think being a professor keeps me up to speed on the times as they change. I kind of like not being the last person to get the social memo for a change."

    "I hope you'd like to meet him." David then said.

    "Of course I would," Malcolm replied, "You just got to hit me up with a date before I fly out for the UK."

    "What's going on over there?" David asked.

    "Lectures and lots of them," Malcolm answered, "With some stiff ass Brits at the esteemed campus of Oxford."

    "Wonderful," David said, "Now your influence is spreading to Europe."

    "Then the world." Malcolm finished for him.

    The two of them laughed but it wasn't long before someone came down the stairs. It was Artie, and the old man was standing there in his robe giving the two men the exact same stern look he always gave them whenever they were caught eating leftovers in the middle of the night.

    "Seriously?" Artie started, "You're still doing this?"

    "Why not?" Malcolm asked, "This food isn't going eat itself. Wasting food is a terrible sin. There are starving kids in Africa you know..."

    "Don't be a smart ass," Artie replied as he knew Malcolm was mocking something that his wife used to tell the kids whenever they wouldn't eat food at the table. "I was saving that for tomorrow."

    "Give me a break," David said as he laughed.

    "I got news for you old man," Malcolm said as he turned to face his father, "The one thing that sucks more to a nine year old than eating mashed potatoes and overcooked turkey is eating it again the next day for lunch. We're doing our duty as good uncles to save those young souls up there the experience."

    "So what are we going to eat tomorrow?" Artie's asked.

    Malcolm sighed, "The snow is slowing down. We'll go to Bertha's diner for brunch and I'll buy for everyone."

    "Can you afford that?" Artie asked.

    David covered his mouth to prevent food from flying out of his mouth as he roared with laughter.

    "What?" Artie said as he didn't get the joke.

    "Malcolm has more money than Dick." David said as he kept chuckling.

    "He does?" Artie said, somewhat surprised.

    "I could buy Bertha's diner if I wanted to and it wouldn't even dent what I have stashed in my chequing account." Malcolm confirmed, "So we'll be good."

    "Well then," Artie said as he turned the lights a tiny bit brighter. "I'll leave you gentlemen to it then."

    Malcolm watched him leave and then looked back to his brother. "He truly has no clue how successful we all are, does he?"

    "Not one," David concurred, "Pass the coleslaw."

11. First Steps Taken

    Despite Malcolm's numerous threats, Malcolm didn't leave when the snow died down. He ended up staying to appease his brothers and especially his sister and her kids who did love him very much. The whole family ended up staying seven whole days but not before the men when to the grocery store and nearly bought the place out as well as hitting a few toy stores to restock the space vacancy that was under the tree. It was the first time they had all spend the holiday together and even Malcolm seemed to cool down as the days went on but that might have had something to do with their hitting the liquor store during their insane spending spree. Rather than have turkey for another night in the same week, Malcolm and Dick ordered out for Christmas day. Pizza for the kids and Chinese food and dumplings for the adults, which in turn made for a much more casual and fancy free meal for everyone. Artie was not one to complain as he got what he wanted for the holiday; everyone on the same roof again for Christmas. Yet like all good things, the holiday came to an end. One at a time, Artie's kids said their goodbyes and drove off for the airport. Kim was the first to go and it wasn't until after she left that the three men standing there on to speak with Artie one more time.

    "Do us all a favor," David asked, "No more faking your death."

    "Alright," Artie said, "That's the first and last time; I promise."

    "Next time," Dick started, "Try coming to us for a change. The weather in December is a lot nicer in California."

    "I don't think I can," Artie argued, "I'm a few years from retirement and I've almost got this darn house paid off."

    "The house is paid off," Malcolm interrupted, "Dick and I took care of it over six years ago."

    "You did?" Artie said as he looked at the other boys who all nodded to confirm it for him. "What the hell have I been paying then?"

    "It's all been deposited into a savings account," David answered, "We planned to tell you about it when you retired so you could use it to do whatever you wanted."

    Artie couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Why didn't you tell me?"

    "Because you're a proud man," Dick answered, "We didn't want to hurt your feelings."

    "I wish your mother had been here to see this." Artie said.

    "She was," Malcolm said with a chuckle, "She didn't win fifty thousand on a scratch ticket. We gave it to her so you guys could take your dream trip to Italy. We did it for her cause we knew time was short and we had plenty to spare."

    "I don't know what to say." Artie said as he was truly speechless.

    "How about this," David said as he was clearly speaking for them all, "If Mohammad cannot come to the mountain then bring the mountain to him. Instead of tricking us to all come here, respect the fact that we are busy people and come to us instead. Crash in the guest room for a few days and make us pay the way for a change. It's not like you haven't earned it putting up with us. Money isn't an issue but it would be less intrusive if you came to us sometimes."

    "I'll do that next time," Artie said to them as he padded his sons on the shoulder.

    "Good because funerals are expensive!" Malcolm said with a laugh.

    "That they are." Artie said as he recalled paying for a wake. "I don't want to do that again anytime soon."

    "Neither do we," Dick said as he hugged his father, "Neither do we."

    "We may disagree on a lot," Malcolm said as he shook his father's hand, "But that doesn't mean I don't love you. The same goes for all of you."

    "Deep down he's just a big softie." David said.

    "Keep that to yourself." Malcolm chided back.

    After saying their goodbyes, Artie watched as the three cars all departed one at a time much like had they had arrived. As they drove off into the distance, Artie for a change left the holidays with hope for the future. For the first time since his wife passed away, he looked forward to the New Year and the promises they held. When the cars all finally vanished from sight, he walked back into the house and began to clean up from the mess that was left from having four adults and as many kids there for a whole week. Was a chore he was proud to do as it was the sign of what a good time he and the rest of them had had. When it was taken care of and the trash properly tossed out, Artie sat down and at his desk with a glass of scotch and relaxed. He used a key to own a locked drawer in his desk and pulled out the medical papers he had been looking over for months. The very forms that reminded him about the tumors and how aggressive they had been despite the he had taken to fight them. The old man didn't have the heart to tell him. This holiday was truly going to be his last, which was the reason for his deception. He wasn't going to live to see the next one so he did whatever he could to make this year the best it could possibly be, even if it meant deceiving his own children. He was going to keep his word; the next funeral wasn't going to be fake and it was going to come a lot sooner than they had hoped. Artie looked at the forms and concluded he would try treatment again. He had considered letting go and passing on without a fight but seeing his kids and the things they wanted to do gave him the zeal he needed to carry on. He would contact the doctor the next week and sign up for another round. If he didn't make it, it would no longer be from a lack of trying. Artie had all the motivation he needed; one more Christmas with the family.