Holly Jolly Christmas by C.C. Warrens

Author:C.C. Warrens
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Christian Fiction, Christian mysteries, Clean mystery suspense
Publisher: C.C. Warrens
Published: 2023-12-23T07:00:00+00:00

15

PRESENT DAY

Marx admired the Christmas lights twinkling in the distance as he sat on the porch swing. Every house in the neighborhood was different: some simple and classic with white lights, others wildly colorful, and some wreathed in blinking atrocities that made him thankful he wasn’t epileptic.

He lifted a mug of coffee to his lips and savored the warmth that trickled down his throat. He didn’t usually drink caffeine this late, but he had no intention of sleeping. He wanted to make sure nothing more happened to his parents’ house or property.

A shadow moved in the pool of light spilling onto the porch from inside the house, and he found his father standing in the doorway.

Just what I need.

Dad, bundled in a flannel jacket, joined him on the porch. He cleared his throat. “I was hopin’ we could talk.”

“You can talk until you’re hoarse, for all I care, but don’t expect me to listen.”

Dad sat down in the chair in front of the living room window and rubbed his hands together. “There’s some things we need to discuss.”

“I have nothin’ to discuss with you. You know nothin’ about me or my life.”

“You’re right. I’ve been makin’ assumptions about you ’cause I expected you to make the same mistakes I did.”

“Is that your idea of an apology?”

“No, it’s the beginnin’ of an explanation.” He picked nervously at the callouses on his hands with his short fingernails. “I never wanted to be my father, but somehow . . . well, somehow I ended up a lot like him.”

“I wouldn’t know. Never met the man. You and Mama never talked about him or Grandma. I just assumed they were dead.”

“Your grandmother died givin’ birth to me. I don’t think Daddy ever forgave me for that, for takin’ away the one person he claimed to love. He made sure I knew every day that I was the reason he hated his life.”

“Made sure you knew how?”

Dad drew in a fortifying breath and stood, stripping out of his flannel jacket. With shaking fingers, he began to unbutton his shirt. “I don’t mean this to be an excuse, ’cause it ain’t. But you deserve to know.” He pulled his arms free and turned, baring his back.

Marx nearly dropped his coffee mug. Pale, thin scars stretched across his father’s back like feathers. He swallowed the bile that crept up his throat. “He did that to you?”

His father re-dressed slowly, as if the old wounds still ached, and sat back down. “It got worse as I got older. I thought for sure he was gonna kill me one day, so I ran away just before I turned eighteen.”

Marx couldn’t find the words to respond. All these years and he’d never known the horrors of his own dad’s childhood. He’d never asked.

“I found a job at a textile mill. A couple years later, I met your mama. She was easily the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I asked her to marry me not five months later, and I about fell over when she said yes.

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