A Mountain Springs Christmas

Chapter 3

three

RACHEL

Rachel opened her front door and called out, “I’m home!” She’d barely set her things on the small table by the door when Aiden came running down the hall toward her, their golden retriever, Bailey, hot on his heels, the babysitter close behind.

As he neared, he leaped into the air and landed on her, giving one of his patented “starfish hugs.” Her son was getting bigger all the time—and faster—so she had to make sure her feet were firmly planted or he would knock her over. But after that year of being too weak for his starfish hugs, she wasn’t ever going to ask him to stop.

“Hey, buddy! Guess what I got on the way home?”

He slid to the ground, so she turned and grabbed the bag from the table and pulled out the wreath. Aiden looked at it with the same sense of wonder and admiration he’d had when they’d seen it in the store together, but this time, his expression also contained amazement at it being in their house. He ran a finger across one of the red bulbs, then turned to show it to Bria. “Isn’t this the best wreath you’ve ever seen?”

“It sure is.”

Aiden looked up at Rachel. “Can we hang it up right now?”

“Of course!” She opened the front door again, then lifted him so he could place it on the hook himself.

When she set him down, he stood back, admiring it. Then he turned his grin on her. “Thanks, momma!” Then he gave her a tight squeeze.

She didn’t have a lot of money to spend on frivolous things, but this had been a good choice. Her Season of Yes was off to a good start. She grabbed her purse and the book off the table, and as they headed back toward the family room and kitchen, she said to Bria. “Thank you so much for staying later.”

“No problem.” Then, as Aiden raced into the family room with the dog, Bria added in a low voice, “He didn’t have the best end to his school day. He was pretty upset when I picked him up.”

Rachel set her things on the counter and thanked Bria for letting her know before the girl grabbed her keys and headed out the front door. She opened the door of the fridge and looked inside as the exhaustion of the day started setting in, wishing she’d see a fully prepared meal just magically waiting for them. Maybe she would have to work some more meal prep into her Weekly Plan.

At least she had the meal planned and it was a fairly easy one. She pulled out the half of a rotisserie chicken, a package of tortillas, some grated cheese, and a jar of barbecue sauce. The barbecue sauce was key because if she used it, she could sneak in quite a few diced bell peppers without Aiden complaining, and she had a partial red one and half a green one.

As she gathered everything, Aiden told her a story about his friend, Quinton, and a small hill at school where the fields gently sloped down to the playground. “And we figured out that if we lay on our backs and lift our legs like this,” he said, lifting one knee and wrapping his arms around it, “then we can slide down the hill on the snow! Did you hear that? We used our coats as a sled ! It was the greatest thing ever. And then all the other kids saw us doing it and so they started doing it, too, and we basically started a new thing. I bet if we could be out there at the same time as the fourth and fifth graders, they’d be doing it, too.”

Every day when she got home from work, Aiden told her about his day at a million miles an hour, barely stopping to take a breath, and all she could do was nod and show the right facial expression. There was no space to even comment until he got enough of it out.

She dumped her armful of ingredients on the counter, then Aiden said, “Hey, can I help?”

“Always.”

He stepped up on the stool, washed his hands, then scooted the stool to the counter she stood at.

As they worked and his stories paused without mentioning the end of the day, she eyed him. “How was the rest of school?”

His little shoulders dropped immediately. “Not all the way great.”

That was a new thing Aiden was doing lately that she loved. Everything was related to the word “great.” He was “extra great,” “kind of great,” and “mostly great”—how much changed, but the word “great” was always there.

“You want to tell me about it?”

He let out a huff and turned on the stool so he was facing her. “I know you told me to be nice to the mean girl because she’s new and hasn’t made friends yet, but she just makes me so mad!”

“Aiden, what happened?”

“I was nice to her all day. And she was being nice to me, too. Then, right at the end of school, none of that even mattered. Miss Goodrich said she needs parent helpers to make the chimney and living room for our Christmas program for when we all say The Night Before Christmas . And momma, guess what? In class today, I only messed up on one line!”

“Good job, buddy.” She gave him a high five.

“When the bell rang, I went up to my teacher and said that you could make the set.”

A bolt of panic struck her. “Me?”

Aiden nodded. “I told her that you design things for your job, that you’re the best at it, and that you can pretty much make anything. But Holly had gone up to talk to Miss Goodrich, too, and she said that you weren’t the best and that her dad could do it better.”

She didn’t know Holly’s dad at all or anything about what he could or couldn’t do, but just thinking of her very full Monthly Plan made her guess he probably could do it better. Besides, what did she know about making set fireplaces? Not only did she not have tools for that kind of stuff, but she wouldn’t have a clue of how to even start. Her design skills began and ended with digital creations.

“As sweet as it was to say all those nice things about me, honey, that seems like a really big job and will take lots of parents’ help. This should probably be headed up by someone who’s done this kind of thing before. Maybe Holly’s dad knows what he’s doing.”

“Mom, did you hear what I said? She said that you weren’t the best!”

She was probably right. “I know, honey. It’s okay. Her dad is probably pretty good at that kind of stuff.”

Aiden turned back to the roasted chicken and started pulling off chunks of meat with a little more force. “But she’s trying to get him to take over everything.”

Rachel pulled out the cutting board and knife and started dicing the chicken. “Holly hasn’t even asked her dad about it yet, so you don’t know if he even can. And honey, I don’t know if I can. I’m working so many extra hours and trying to get ready for Christmas…”

Aiden brought his hands together, pleading. “Please, Mom? Please say yes.” He hopped off his stool and went to the table to grab a paper. Then he came back and put it in her hand.

She looked down at the flyer that now had chicken fingerprints at the top and started reading about the program and how they could use volunteers. The mom guilt was getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment. But she also knew that she couldn’t take on much more than she already had on her plate.

She glanced over at Aiden, who was still looking at her with hopeful eyes, the chicken in front of him all but forgotten. As she studied his expression, she tried to guess what was behind his insistence that she help. It was probably because of last Christmas. She had been going through the most intense parts of chemotherapy during the holiday season, which made her unable to do their normal traditions.

And beyond that, since she had changed job responsibilities a few months ago, she’d been working more hours to try to get her feet on the ground. Aiden was only six. He probably just wanted assurances that she would be around this year to make the season special.

But was volunteering for a project so big—a project she had very little experience with—really the right way to do it? It was such a huge commitment, and if she dropped the ball at all, it would impact a lot of people.

She glanced at her phone and could picture her Daily List and her Monthly Plan. They were already so full. The words “no,” and “I’m sorry” nearly came out of her mouth.

But then she spotted the book half tucked under her purse. It hadn’t even been two hours since she’d made a bet with her friends that she’d live a Season of Yes. This was exactly the kind of thing the bet was supposed to get her to say yes to.

She took a long, slow breath, and then turned to her son. “Okay, I’ll tell Miss Goodrich that I’ll help with it. And we’ll make it awesome.”

“You’re the best!” Aiden said, wrapping his arms around her waist in a tight hug.

She hugged him back and smiled at him, knowing full well that she now had chicken handprints on her back.