Ch 82 ~ A Bongiovi Christmas

“Jesus Christ I need a drink.”

Rachel looked up to find Santa Claus – aka Jon’s brother Tony – as the person in need of alcohol-infused reinforcements, and she laughed.  Pointing toward the counter, she revealed in a low voice. “There’s the grownup egg nog.  I think both of your brothers have spiked it at different times.”

He pulled down the white curly beard and wrinkled his nose distastefully.  “Santa don’t like nothin’ in his Jack but Jack.  Where’s the real booze?”

Despite his obvious state of distress, Rachel couldn’t be any happier as she closed the door on her nearly-cooked prime rib.  Christmas was her favorite holiday, by far, and there was nothing quite like having a house full of family on Christmas day while she busied herself in the kitchen preparing a feast. 

Especially the Bongiovi family.

She’d never had the experience of a big Italian family, and it was…. Interesting to say the least.  Jon’s children, brothers, sister-in-law, niece, nephew and parents were in various nooks and corners of the New Jersey house, filling it with the warmth and love that should accompany the Christmas holiday.  Along with a little loud “discussion” now and then.

Which brought her back to one cranky Santa, currently foraging through her cabinets in search of something with the word “proof” on the label.

She turned to him, smirking, one hand propped on a hip.  “Surely it isn’t that bad?  Jon said you do this every year for the kids.”

He snorted rudely.  “Yeah, well I’m thinkin’ this may be the last one.  Matty’s kids and Romeo are still little enough to appreciate it, but the others… not so much.”

“Oh?”

He kicked up a sardonic eyebrow at her.  “Jake is at the age where he’s now suspicious of Santa, so he’s givin’ me the hairy eye trying to determine if I was the real deal or not, and Jesse decides to help him out by being a little shit and saying Santa was going to go back up the chimney when he left.  That it didn’t matter there was a fire going, because Santa was fireproof.”

Covering her mouth with one hand, Rachel barely stifled the giggle that wanted to escape.  “Oh my word.  What did you say?”

“What the fuck am I gonna say?” he grumbled, finally resorting to the eggnog when a quick search of the cabinets didn’t produce a bottle of undiluted whiskey.  “That Jon has the house under a no-fly zone so I had to park the reindeer out back and leave through the garage.”

“Ha!  I bet Jon loved that.” 

“Hey.  Better he ruin Christmas for his kids than me.”  His face distorted in displeasure at the first sip of eggnog, but the aftertaste must have been okay because he crooked his head to the side and shrugged.  “Not bad.  More booze than nog.”

“I told you both of them spiked it,” Rachel reminded him amusedly at the same time Jon came through the kitchen door. 

“You better get outta that suit,” he warned Tony.  “Kids are headed this way.”

“Ehhh, fuck.”  Tony dropped the glass eggnog mug and beat feet for the garage, with a hearty “Ho, ho, ho!” over his shoulder – along with a Jersey salute for his naughty brother.

Jon barked out a laugh before dropping a kiss on Rachel’s expectantly upturned face.  “When’s dinner?  I’m hungry.”

“Mm.  The meat comes in in ten minutes, then it needs to rest for a bit.  Half an hour?”

“Christ, woman,” he whined.  “You’re starvin’ me.”

She shook her head and offered a condescending pat to his cheek.  “You’ll live for another half hour.”

“I don’t see why we can’t have some kinda appetizers or somethin’ around here,” was his grumpy reply.  Clearly Tony wasn’t the only one who was cranky. 

“I’m hunnnngry!” Jacob declared dramatically on the heels of his father’s complaint, entering the kitchen with a doleful face.  “What happened to the cookies?”

“Yeah!  Where are the cookies?” Romeo echoed from right behind him.  “I’m dyin’ here!”

It took everything Rachel had not to laugh at the three pitiful Bongiovis who were clearly about to waste away to nothingness in the next thirty minutes.

To the boys and their cousins who had just trailed in, she said, “I hid the cookies because they’ll ruin your dinner.”  She pinned Jon with a look.  “Just like appetizers would.”

“Well, then you’re gonna have to make dinner earlier next year,” Jon declared, arms folded across his chest. 

Next year.  It was nice to have the comfort of expectations for next year – and beyond. 

Rachel smiled.

“What?  My imminent starvation is humorous?”

“Actually, yes, it is.”  She made a motion that gathered up all the famine-struck orphans and shooed them back through the kitchen door.  “Take the kids and entertain them while I make sure the rolls have risen enough.  And if your mother or Desiree happen to ask if they can help, send them this direction, would you?  Don’t ask.  Just if they offer.”

His face wrinkled with annoyance.  “You’re bossy.”

“No shit.  I’m trying to get Christmas dinner on the table for a dozen people, and you’re trying to ruin everyone’s appetite.  Stop screwing with my plans and I won’t have to be bossy.” 

Wrinkles smoothed out and the handsome man she loved kicked up the corner of his mouth in a half smile.  “We seriously could’ve catered, yanno.”

“Are you crazy?”  Lifting back the plastic wrap on the rolls, she pinned him with a look that she only hoped could convey how stupid she thought he was.  “There’s nothing in this world that I’d rather do than cook Christmas dinner.  Family and food is really what Christmas is all about.  Gifts are…”  She waved a careless hand in the air.  “Just a pain.”

He propped his hip against the counter, and grinned.  “Does that mean I can take yours back?”

She pitched the cellophane in the trash and wiped her hands on her apron as she snickered.  “You hate the effort of going out to shop in the first place.  You expect me to believe you’re going to take the time to return it?  Yeah, right.”

When he didn’t pop off with some wise crack, Rachel glanced over her shoulder while opening the oven door.  “What?”

The prime rib was perfect.  Perfectly seasoned, perfectly cooked…  It could’ve been the centerfold in a holiday cooking magazine, she thought proudly.  Now it only had to rest for a few minutes to let the juices seal.  She parked the main dish on the potholders she’d placed on the center island for just this purpose and picked up the pan of rolls, which she promptly popped in the oven and dialed up the thermostat.

He still hadn’t said anything and she turned to fully face him.  “Jon.  What?”

One lazy shoulder lifted in a shrug.  “I dunno.  I guess it fascinates me to see you doing the Suzy homemaker thing.  You’re such a capable businesswoman, that I find it hard to believe you’re so good at this, too.”  He stepped forward to loop his arms around her in a loose hug, careful in not allowing her apron to transfer anything to his black sweater.  “You’re pretty damned impressive.”

Rachel would be lying if she said the words didn’t warm a spot inside her that she didn’t know could use a little warming.  Yes, she loved all things Christmas and delighted in making a nice holiday meal for everyone and would do it without a word of gratitude, but to have her efforts appreciated was… nice.

“Well, thank you,” she told him before leaning in for a kiss.  “I think you’re pretty impressive yourself.  And I intend to show you just how much after everyone goes home.  Now…”  She took a backward step and reached around to pat him on the backside.  “Go entertain the kids and ask Stephanie if she’ll come help me for a minute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groused good-naturedly.  “But I thought you wanted Mom or Des?”

“Changed my mind.  It’ll be easier for me to order her around than your mother,” she admitted. 

His laugh warmed her insides even further.  “I love you, yanno.”

With that and a kiss on her nose, he set off to do her bidding. 

Precisely twenty minutes later, the family was seated around the table oohing and aaahing appreciatively over the display of food before them. 

Prime rib, mashed potatoes, homemade yeast rolls, Brussels sprouts, broccoli salad and – in deference to the children – macaroni and cheese.  The burgundy tablecloth was the perfect background for the gold-edged chargers that sat beneath the simple white china and the stemware sparkled beneath the light of the chandelier as wine, lemonade and tea were poured.  The centerpiece blended everything together with its sleigh full of burgundy poinsettias and artificially frost-tipped branches.

Rachel couldn’t possibly be any more pleased with what she considered the perfect holiday scene.  Norman Rockwell had nothing on the Bongiovis this Christmas. 

She had just settled into her seat when a gentle, repetitive striking of silver against crystal brought everyone’s attention to the end of the table where Jon’s father stood. 

“Before we dig into this fabulous looking meal,” he declared in the quietly authoritative way that he had.  “I’d like to take a moment to express my gratitude for being here today.  Rachel has gone out of her way to not only open this home to us, but prepare a feast on top of it.  For that, we thank you from the very bottoms of our hearts.”  He dipped his chin to Rachel.

“Hear, hear!” Matt echoed along with his mother and wife, his glass raised in the air as Jon winked at her.  

“I’d also like to tell everyone how very proud I am to be the patriarch of this family,” the elder Bongiovi continued.  “Each and every one of you – that means you, too, Rachel – are good, decent human beings that do their best to make this world a better place while looking out for one another.  You are the best family that a man could hope to have, and I’m blessed this holiday season to call you mine.  God bless us all.” 

There was clinking of glasses, murmurs of appreciation and squeezing of hands and shoulders among the tight-knit clan.

“That was so sweet of you, John,” Rachel spoke over the rumblings. 

“You may as well call me Dad,” he instructed, taking his seat.  “You’re as good as my daughter-in-law.”

She dipped her chin with obedience and dutifully repeated, “Dad.  Jon and I are beyond ecstatic that you all agreed to spend the day with us here and I would love to do nothing more than tell you individually how much you’ve all come to mean to me, but…”  She pointed to the prime rib with a smile.  “If we don’t eat that before it gets cold, I’m going to feel like my entire day was a bust.”

Laughter erupted around the table and serving dishes were passed as plates were filled and wine flowed. 

It was her first real Bongiovi family Christmas, but Rachel knew it wouldn’t be her last.  This was merely the first stepping stone in a long future of family traditions with the people seated around this table.  People who had accepted her as whole-heartedly as anyone could dream of being absorbed into a family unit.  They made her belong and she hoped that they felt as though they belonged here – in her and Jon’s home.  Not just today, but any day. 

Because that’s what family was.

Rachel would always love Christmas...especially a Bongiovi Christmas.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Love,

Blush & Audra