“Well, I guess that answers your question.” A ping from my phone shows a shared note from Nat, the list she needs us to work through. It’s a mile long when I open it. We’re going to need sustenance. I can’t wait to stop at the coffee shop and pick up my favorite holiday treat.
“What?”
“Hope you feel like spending all day shopping.” I slide my phone across the table, “Check out that to-do list,” I say, eyebrows raised.
“We should probably get going soon if we want to make it through this.” He whistles his understanding.
“I’ll be ready in ten,” he confirms.
“Give me twenty.” I sweep my hand up and down my body, displaying the full-on Christmas flannel pajama set I’m sporting.
“I don’t know, you look great to me,” he calls as I disappear up the stairs.
* * *
Idrop the last two cans of cream of mushroom soup from the shelf into the cart. Sampson’s Grocery is packed with families picking up last-minute ingredients for holiday feasts. Christmas music plays through the store’s speakers.
“Okay, I got the rolls and the fruitcake from the bakery that was on the list. Do you guys really eat this thing?” The horrified disgust clear on his face.
“Not exactly. You’ll just have to wait and see.” I jest, elbowing him in the ribs. “Let’s get out of here. I’m ready to sit and relax by the fire with some hot cocoa.” As we head for the check stand, my cart rams into another one coming around the corner. I look up into eyes that match mine. My fingers clench painfully around the cart’s handle. The sounds of the hectic store fade away. I’m stunned by the man in front of me.
“Clara, you’re home. Wow, you look so much older.”
His raspy, two-packs-a-day voice lurches me into motion. “Yeah, that happens after four years,” I snap. “We have to go, excuse me.” I choke on the last word, shoving the cart around him. My feet pick up the pace, streamlining for the check stands, desperate to put space between us. Preston follows silently, quick on my heels.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Preston asks as soon as we make it to the car. His warm hand drops comfortingly to my thigh.
“Uhh, no, not really.” I shift toward the window, pulling my leg free from his grasp.
“You look just like him.”
“An unfortunate draw of genetics.”
“I thought you said it was just you and your brother?”
“Jesus, Preston. I said I didn’t want to talk about it.” I jack up the music trying to silence any more of his questions. The Christmas music helps me cool down on our drive back. The thoughts of Christmas past with my parents and Damion invade my mind, but I push them away, tucking them into the tiny box that holds memories that feel more like fuzzy dreams. By the time we’re pulling into the driveway, I no longer want to bite Preston’s head off. Parking the car, he moves to get out. He hasn’t even looked in my direction since I blew up on him.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just don’t like to talk about it.”
“It’s fine. I get it, don’t worry about it.” His half-assed smile doesn’t convince me he means it.
Setting the last of the bags down in the foyer, I hear Damion as he comes down the stairs to meet us. “Dang sis, did you leave anything back at the stores?”
“Ha, ha. Jokes on you, this is all for your wife. She sent us all around town today on your dime, so I hope those credit card balances aren’t too high bro.” He groans at the truth laid out at his feet. “Come on, I’ll help you hide everything before the kids get home.”
ChapterFive
The house is peaceful with everyone tucked away and asleep. The tree in the corner twinkles with white lights. Small red and green glass bulbs, mixed with homemade ornaments the kids have made over the years hang from its limbs.
The fire crackles in the grate across from me, the heat radiating off warming my wiggling toes. I haven’t been able to focus on the book in my lap, even though it’s one of my favorites to read every Christmas.
I take another sip of my peppermint hot cocoa, watching the flames dance in the dimmed light. The run-in with my dad plays repeatedly in my head as I zone out. I haven’t seen him since sophomore year of high school. After Mav was born, I spent so much time with Nat and Damion, eventually I just stopped going home. I thought he’d care, that he’d demand I come home, but after a month with no word I just decided to stay.
“Got any more of that?” Preston asks slipping onto the loveseat with me. I hand him my mug instead of making a second cup; there’s no way I’m getting up right now. “Couldn’t sleep?” he inquires.
“I’m a night owl, college student, remember? I forget how quiet it gets here since everyone goes to bed so early.” I confirm.
“Always reading huh? What is it this time?”