Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 53 -

Holidays were not celebrated in my father's house. Christmas was a somber affair, spent in the sitting room listening to Papa read aloud from the Bible the story of Christ's birth. I thought it somber now, but back then it had been one of very few peaceful days. It was the only time I ever witnessed my parents drink together, when in the late evening they would bring out a bottle of whiskey Papa usually kept locked up and slowly sip at it 'round the fire. I could not recall Papa ever being angry on Christmas, even without the festivities.

Thanksgiving was barely given a thought. I knew of it only because when I was 11 I spent several days with my mother's sister's family - my Aunt Rosalyn - in her farmhouse on the other side of Lily Dale, and they celebrated the feast day like it was a grand affair. I had never seen so much food in my life as I did that day - the ham, turkey, potatoes, pies, tarts, all mouth-watering.

I would later discover that my Aunt Rosalyn invited us to celebrate every year - my father always refused.

My delight when coming to the Doll House and finding that Madam Jeffries made the holiday as grand as any other was akin to finally coming home. Truly home, to a family that had joy no matter how dysfunctional and haphazard. Mary Jeffries was wicked and selfish, without doubt; but beneath her roof, we girls had found family in each other. Happiness...joy...safety.

I had found a different joy now, and a whole new definition of safety. But I still wanted to celebrate with all my found family.

"Sounds like a wonderful idea," Damian said, after I'd ranted on about my plans for a good 10 minutes, simultaneously asking his permission while telling him I was going to do it anyway. "We've never had a proper Thanksgiving in this house. Rachel has always rather wanted it but I didn't want such a waste of food when it was only her, Octavio and I. She'll be excited."

He probably didn't expect me to throw my arms around his neck and nearly throttle him, but that was exactly what I did. Sitting in his office now seemed strange when I remembered the first time I'd been in it. He held me up on his lap, chuckling for a moment while I kissed his neck and face and began to get distracted -

"Enough, enough," he chided. "You'll get me bothered and I still have work to do."

"Damn your work," I muttered, and he gave me a little spank in response.

"Enough of that," he said, smiling as he ushered me up. "Talk your plans over with Rachel. We still have an appointment later." He winked, and my heart fluttered stupidly. Appointments were handled in the bedroom.

Rachel was just as excited as I'd hoped she'd be, and we poured over plans at the kitchen table. She could write well, and I could read only a little, but we made it work between her writing on a small chalkboard and signing as we went. I wanted to invite Liza, Genevieve, and Mary-Ann - I'd be damned if Mary Jeffries wouldn't let them come. The Doll House was usually closed Thanksgiving day anyway, given the slow state of business. I also relished the opportunity to show off my cooking skills. I hadn't cooked a thing for Damian since coming into his home, and having someone else constantly cook for me was almost unnerving.

I told as much to Rachel, and she laughed at me. "I was the same," she said. "When Damian first brought me here, out of the asylum, I was so confused and frightened I could scarcely get out of bed. He cooked everything for me. Once I was well again, I've cooked ever since. Haven't let him touch the stove once."

I still hadn't asked her about her past, and wasn't about to now. Some things still felt unbreachable, and her story was one such thing.

As the days passed I grew used to Alexander being my companion on weekdays. It was a struggle, at first, to move past my bitterness at him constantly hovering about, watching me like a hawk, an unwanted and nagging babysitter until Damian returned home. But one day, while we took tea in the sitting room, he tripped over his own feet in the midst of a diatribe about the current President and dribbled Earl Grey down his white shirtfront.