From Christmas to Christmas

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

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Judge Robert Buschold pursed his lips in rancor as Jeff Landry, his son-in-law sat back and smiled with satisfaction. Across the table from Jeff sat Angelle 'Jelly' Landry, the disgusting, deviant daughter of Jeff. And, next to the little red headed harlot sat Arabelle "Belly' Hall, Jelly's girlfriend.

"The times, they are a-changing. And not for the better, Mr. Dylan," Robert thought.

There was a time when such a relationship was so scandalous, so abhorrent to polite society that no woman would ever admit to being in such a relationship. Now, though, in this permissive and decadent culture, such a relationship was actually encouraged.

Robert knew better than to give voice to his opinion. Since marrying Donna, Robert and Deborah's daughter, Jeff had proven himself to be a man guided by his own principles. He did not kowtow to Judge Robert Buschold's position or to Deborah's formidable nature. When he believed himself to be right, Jeff Landry stood his ground.

Donna had fallen in love with the Cajun culture, the Cajun food, the rich heritage of the people and the lush landscape. The moment she had her high school diploma in hand Donna Buschold decided to attend the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, rather than attend Wallchester University. Upon graduating, after seven years of studies, Donna took a job with Tri-Carter, an oil field service provider.

"Should have never let her go to that damned Mardi Gras," Robert thought as Jeff took his empty plate and the plates of his daughter and daughter's girlfriend to the kitchen where Daisy, their servant stood, smiling.

Within months of gaining her employment with Tri-Carter,, Donna met the thirty four year old Jeff Landry when DeGarde Office Equipment Leasing & Maintenance had sent Jeff out to repair Tri-Carter's ancient photocopier. Robert ran a background check on the man and did not like the fact that Jeff Landry was divorced, with an 11 year old daughter.

"His wife cheated on him; that's why they're divorced," Donna explained when Robert voiced his concerns about his daughter's involvement with the older Jeff.

Despite his misgivings and Deborah's intense dislike of Jeffrey Andrew Landry, Donna and Jeff married. Their dislike of Jeff did soften, did mellow very slightly when Donna and Jeff abruptly left DeGarde, Louisiana and relocated to Commonstead, New Jersey. Donna said she'd suddenly become homesick. Jeff offered no opinion nor explanation.

Robert and Deborah had met Jelly, Jeff's daughter; she spent the summers with her father and spent every other Thanksgiving OR Christmas with Jeff and Donna. Despite her warm, bubbly, friendly nature, Deborah and Robert did not warm to the red headed pixie.

The first Thanksgiving, just as Jeff put Jelly's plate down in front of his daughter, Deborah made the announcement to the gathering of family that, since this was Jeff's first Thanksgiving with them, he would be washing the dishes.

"It is fine china; it belonged to my grandmother and must be washed by hand," Deborah said imperiously.

Jeff looked at the amused faces of Robert, Donna's two brothers Bobby and Richard, Robert's mother Genevieve Buschold, Deborah's two sisters and their husbands. Straightening, Jeff took his daughter's hand and helped her from her seat.

"Donna, we're leaving. You coming?" Jeff said, leaving no room for argument.

"Why, Mother?" Donna snarled as she hurried to follow her husband.

"Well!" was Deborah's response.

Susan, Bobby's wife and Tricia, Richard's wife shared a look with one another. Silently, the two women applauded Jeff's handling of the situation. Later, while the men were loafing in the den, watching a football game, Susan confided to Tricia that had Deborah pulled that little stunt on her, Deborah would have significantly fewer of her Grandmother's CHINA to cherish.

Since that day, on the very rare occasions that Jeff Landry did come to the Buschold home, Deborah and Robert were coolly civil to their son in law. Somehow, Donna had convinced Jeff that, since this was the first Thanksgiving that his daughter and her girlfriend were living in Commonstead, New Jersey, they should make an effort to show Jelly and Belly a good, traditional Thanksgiving meal.

If the cold atmosphere bothered Jeff, he did not react. If the awkward silences bothered Jeff, or Jelly or Belly, they did not show it. The three sat at the large decades-old wooden table, eating the truly delicious food.

Deborah pursed her lips IN DISAPPROVAL as she clearly heard Jeff complimenting Daisy, and thanking the woman for her delicious meal. Didn't the buffoon realize he should thank her, the hostess? Even though Deborah had not prepared the meal, she had provided the meal. Therefore, the thanks should go to her, the hostess AND NOT TO A PAID SERVANT.

Afterward, the fifteen guests and Deborah and Robert retired to the living room while Daisy and Pet, Daisy's sister brewed coffee and sliced the pumpkin pies. During the dinner, Jelly, Angelle Landry had let it slip that she was pregnant.

"Wonderful. Just wonderful. Another worthless urchin siphoning our tax dollars for the rest of eternity," Robert thought dourly.

Now, in the living room, Susan politely asked Jelly what she planned to name the baby. Robert made a mental black checkmark on Susan's ledger. What Susan should have asked was if Jelly planned to abort the bastard fetus.

"Or, of course, there is adoption," Robert muttered, then clammed up when Jeff shot him a harsh look.

"We don't know," Jelly said, giving her blonde friend a loving look.

"We been thinking Payton if it's a boy; you know, Payton Jeffrey Landry-Hall," Belly said.

"And Andrea if it's a girl," Jelly said. "Andrea Michelle Landry-Hall."

"Michelle is Jelly's mother's name," Jeff explained to the gathering.

"Well, when Bobby and I do have a baby," Susan said. "If it's a boy? I don't have a choice."

"Robert Steven the third," Bobby said smugly.

"But if it's a girl? Denise. Denise Elizabeth Buschold," Susan said.

"See, Susan's older sister? Denise Elizabeth Prescott died when Susan was a little girl," Bobby explained, even though no one had asked for an explanation.

"Oh. How tragic," Deborah said with hardly a trace of emotion in her voice.

"I like the name Carter, if it's a boy," Donna piped up. And Willa if it's a girl."

Jelly and Belly looked at one another, silently communicating their thoughts on those names. Robert saw the murderous glare Jeff gave to Donna. Donna also saw Jeff's glare and shrank away from her husband.

"You... Bitch! You unbelievable God damned bitch," Jeff hissed, voice full of venom.

"Hey now," Bobby said, getting to his feet.

"Oh I wish you would," Jeff snarled, getting to his feet as well, fists clenched.

Bobby had six inches and fifty pounds on the smaller man. Even after four glasses of his father's Oakleaf Whiskey, Bobby was smart enough to know he stood little chance against his sister's little Cajun. Especially as outraged as the man looked at this moment.

"Daddy?" Jelly asked, noticing the tension in the room.

"This bitch, this little slut wants you to name my grandbaby after her lover," Jeff snarled, glaring hatefully at his wife.

The women in the room gasped at the man's vulgarities, AND AT THE REVELATION. Donna burst into tears. Robert hoisted himself from his comfortable wingback chair, determined to seize control of this uncomfortable situation.

"Do not come home. Hear me? I do not want to see you. I don't want any of you anywhere near me, hear?" Jeff ordered, marching to the door.

"Daddy, wait. I need, we need to get our coats," Jelly called out, following her father.

"I'll get them," Belly offered.

Belly ducked past the lumbering Robert Buschold and scampered to the guest room. Quickly, she found her coat, Jelly's coat and Mr. Jeff's coat. She grabbed their purses and ran back to the front door of the home.

As she passed Donna, Belly saw a Crumpled WOMAN, A DEFEATED WOMAN. She didn't see the normally quite haughty Miss Donna that sneered down at her and Jelly. Belly wondered why she had no compassion for the true Donna Landry.

"Thanks Sugar Booger," Jeff said, calling Belly the nickname he'd given her when Jelly had introduced her best friend to her Daddy.

"I'm going drop you two off at your apartment," Jeff said as they clambered into his DARK GREEN 2016 Dodge Ram 3500 Mega-Cab pickup truck.

"You, you don't need no help?" Jelly asked.

"Probably. I PROBABLY NEED A WHOLE BUNCH OF HELP. What can you two do? Nothing," Jeff said.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Jelly said. "I know you loved her."

"You said it right, Honey Bunny," Jeff sighed. "Loved. As in past tense."

The trio lapsed into silence as Jeff navigated the eerily calm streets of Commonstead, New Jersey. It would seem that everyone was inside, enjoying a quiet dinner with family, friends, and loved ones. Jeff turned onto the small dead end street and pulled up to the apartment complex.

"Past tense. When I found out about her little fling with Big Bill Carter, God! I mean, it took all I had not to kill her," Jeff said, putting the truck into 'park.' "Minnie, Mrs. Carter, Big Bill's wife put an end to it before I had a chance to. Then she says let's move back to New Jersey."

Belly and Jelly waited for Jeff to continue his narration. The heater was blowing high and they weren't looking forward to getting out of the truck and into the cruel wind.

"I thought, 'sure, why not?' I mean, I don't have all the facts. Did he force her? Was he threatening her? I really thought I'd put it all behind us, put it in the past where it belongs. But then just now?" Jeff pounded his steering wheel. "Wanting you to name my grandbaby, my precious grandbaby after that no-good, low-life son of a bitch?"

Belly and Jelly both jumped when Jeff let out an anguished scream. He again pounded his fists on his steering wheel. Finally, he sighed and hit the electronic door locks, unlocking the truck.

"Bye Daddy. I love you," Jelly said, softly kissing her father's cheek.

"Bye, Mr. Jeff. I love you," Belly said, also kissing the man's cheek.

"Why you got to have such a stupid big truck?" Jelly complained as she wiggled out of his truck backward.

"He's a man. They think a big truck says they got a big thingy or something," Belly told Jelly.

Jeff smiled at the cheeky smirk his daughter's girlfriend gave him just before she slammed the door of the truck shut. He watched the two girls scamper up the flight of metal steps to their apartment. He gave a little toot of his horn as they entered their miniscule third floor apartment.

At home, the three bedroom ranch style home he and Donna were leasing with an option to buy, Jeff entered and looked around. Walking from room to room, Jeff was dismayed to see, there was nothing he wanted. Other than his clothes and his tools, there was nothing that was exclusively hiss. In their five, almost six years of marriage, Donna had whittled away nearly everything Jeff owned.

"Well, shit. This makes it almost too easy," Jeff muttered.

Logging onto their joint checking account, Jeff split the account fifty-fifty, doing an electronic withdrawal. He did the same to their two savings accounts; one was a General Funds account and the other was an account they'd set up with the hopes to purchase the home. Each pay period they were paying their bills and ten percent of whatever was left over went into the 'House' account.

Then Jeff opened a link to a different bank. Routing the funds he'd just appropriated, Jeff opened an account in Jelly's name and deposited the money. He used his daughter's address and cell phone number and set the passcode as Michelle Bordelon's initials and birthday.

Gathering his clothes and his tools, Jeff loaded his truck, then drove to a Hideaway Inn. He smirked when the bored clerk informed him that there were free movies with the room.

In the room, Jeff called his daughter and informed her that she had a new bank account and should be receiving the paperwork, most likely on Monday or Tuesday of next week. The account was not hers to do with as she wished; it was just to keep Judge Robert Buschold from somehow getting his mitts on it.

"I will pay all taxes and other fees on it," Jeff promised his daughter.

While he spoke with Jelly, Jeff noticed he'd received several text messages and three voice mails from Donna. Nodding his head, Jeff remembered Deborah's insistence that everyone silence their cell phones during their Thanksgiving meal.

Of course, that edict had not applied to Robert or Bobbby or Richard. It had only applied to the interlopers, the outsiders.

'I'm sorry' and 'I wasn't thinking' and other apologies seemed to be the norm from Donna. Jeff deleted the texts and also deleted the voice mails without listening to them. He had no desire to hear more lies, more excuses from his wife.

Jeff sent a text to Donna's cell phone, letting her know she could go home; he was out of their house. He then blocked Donna's cell number, her mother's cell number, her father's cell number and the numbers of her two asshole brothers. Idly he turned on the television and flipped through the selection of pornography.

"MLFs? Uh, excuse me; where's the DLF channel?" Jeff asked.

Friday morning, Jeff enjoyed the continental breakfast the motel supplied, then used the motel's Wi-Fi to search for an attorney. Ronald O'Donnell was in; he had not taken a four day weekend.

"Yeah, helps being an only child with really shitty parents," Ronald joked.

"Wife doesn't have family?" Jeff asked, noticing a large wedding ring on Ronald's left ring finger.

"Husband. No; they disowned him for being gay," Ronald said.

"Oh," Jeff said and presented Ronald with all the information he had, along with the pre-nuptial agreement Judge Robert Buschold had insisted on.

"Should have seen the original," Jeff smirked. "Gave Donna everything if I so much as farted wrong."

"Knowing Judge Robert Steven Buschold? I can just about imagine," Ronald said. "Unfortunately, you did continue to cohabitate with Mrs. Landry even after finding out about her infidelity. I would assume you also continued to enjoy sexual congress with her."

"Enjoy might be a bit strong of a word," Jeff smirked as his cell phone rang. "Excuse me; I have to take this. It's my boss."

Patrick Turner apologized for calling Jeff while Jeff was supposed to be on a four day weekend. Patrick had a client, a long-standing client that was having trouble with an older model color photocopier. Patrick promised double time if Jeff could get the beast up and running.

"I told him it was a minimum of three hours; he is desperate," Patrick advised.

"Give me one hour; I am right in the middle of something," Jeff said.

"Shit, dump your load, slap her on the ass, wipe your cock clean and get over to Joe's office ASAP," Patrick ordered, chuckling.

"Will do boss," Jeff said. "Want me to tell her you said 'Hi?'"

"No, find out if she has a sister," Patrick said, then ended the call.

Using his phone, Jeff made a transfer from his new account to pay Ronald for the retainer. Ronald promised to file the paperwork with the Souladou County clerk of court's office before the end of the business day. He shrugged when Jeff again reminded him that Donna's father was Judge Robert Buschold.

The Souladou County clerk of court's office must have been ordered to slow walk any paperwork filed by Jeff Landry or any attorney acting in Jeff's behest. With a smirk, Ronald simply filed the same paperwork with the State of New Jersey, bypassing the Souladou County. The smirk disappeared from the face of the clerk of court when the notice of filing flashed across her computer screen a moment later.

Judge Buschold next tried to overwhelm Jeff and Jeff's attorney. With her Daddy's connections, Donna retained the law firm of Cooper, Farnsworth, Welles & Associates. Ronald smirked as he and Jeff sat across the large conference table from James Farnsworth and three junior partners. New Jersey is a 'No-Fault' state. Jeff was filing under irreconcilable differences, not adultery, even though filing under adultery and proving adultery would give Jeff a more favorable outcome. So, the four attorneys representing Donna Landry were just spinning their wheels, slapping their lips together making a bunch of noise.

Overhead, cheerful Christmas music played. In a corner of the conference room, a small plastic Christmas tree stood, gaily wrapped presents stacked underneath. Jeff was sure the presents were just empty boxes wrapped in bright, festive wrapping paper.

When James Farnsworth finally stopped speaking, Ronald and Jeff stood up. James's piggish eyes opened wide in surprise as Ronald and Jeff opened the conference room door.

"Thank you for the coffee," was Ronald's only statement as they left the room.

Jeff did feel a little twinge of conscience when he heard Donna burst into tears. The door clicked shut, silencing the sound of her sobs. He followed Ronald to the bank of elevators.

"Between you and me?" Ronald sighed heavily when the doors of the elevator slid shut. "I hate divorces. Yeah, they pay the bills, but..."

Being a judge, Judge Robert Buschold managed to very quickly schedule a hearing in front of Judge Shirley Howard. Over Ronald's objections, Judge Howard ordered no less than eight counseling sessions with a certified marriage counselor. Jeff and Ronald shrugged their shoulders as they left the courtroom. In a corner of the hallway, a pathetic Christmas tree sagged. Looking at the plastic symbol of cheerful celebration, Jeff wondered just how old the tree was. He was willing to bet the tree had been purchased decades earlier. Slowly the years eroded the metal 'trunk' and the slots that affixed the branches to the metal shaft. Even the ornaments seemed old, forlorn.

"Look, do your eight sessions, try not to piss anyone off and we'll go from there," Ronald sighed as they waited for an elevator.

"Know what? I'll take the stairs," Jeff decided as Donna and her troupe of attorneys entered the hallway.

Dr. Roberta Stitwell was a woman in her late forties. She eschewed cosmetics of any sort and dressed in dowdy, unflattering clothing. Her long graying brown hair was done in a severe bun and her glasses constantly drooped to the end of her nose.

Her waiting room was devoid of any flair and the seating was uncomfortable, hard plastic chairs. Even as cheerful Christmas music played overhead, there was no visual reminder of the season in Dr. Stitwell's waiting room.

Dr. Stitwell's office was no better; there were no artwork on the walls, the walls themselves were a faded white in color. Her desk was a serviceable desk of flat brown and her office chairs were hard, wooden chairs. Her eyes hardened when Jeff picked up one of the chairs and placed it as far away from the other chair as possible.

"Wow. What an unwelcoming office you have," Jeff said after Dr. Stitwell finished rattling off her credentials.

"I placed the chairs there on purpose, Jeff," Roberta snapped.

"I'm sure you did," Jeff agreed. "And, since you are insisting that we address you as Dr. Stitwell? My name is Mr. Landry."

"So, you think you're going to play hardball with me, Jeff?" Roberta sneered.

Jeff's benign smile irritated the woman. In an attempt to regain control of the session, Roberta turned to Donna and asked Donna what she hoped to gain from the session.

"Jeff. Jeff. Please put your phone away," Roberta demanded before Donna could begin speaking.