Mistletoe Magic (Evergreen Lake: Under the Mistletoe)

Chapter 7

seven

HOLLY

I was a schoolteacher.

I kept children engaged, entertained, and distracted every day.

I was responsible for molding the minds of the country's future leaders.

But do you think I could keep my own daughter’s attention for more than two minutes? Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

Noelle was on a sugar high like I’d never seen before, but she hadn’t had any sugar. Not really. Nothing abnormal anyway.

After we’d showered and dressed and with my father’s words still haunting me, we ventured into the living room to find the tree already set up just waiting to be brought to life.

Noelle was like a tornado. Ripping into boxes of ornaments, squealing with every new package she opened.

“Calm down. You don’t want to break it,” I reminded her as she picked up a strand of lights before dropping them.

Lights were my nemesis.

Every single year, I wished Nick was here to hang the lights. But he wasn’t here. And he wouldn’t be here again. Which meant usually, I downed a glass or two of wine before untangling the bastard things and winding them around the tree. Normally, I waited until Noelle was in bed before I attempted to wrangle them, then in the morning, she could decorate, but this year, since everything had been upended and we were quite literally decorating the tree on Christmas Eve I had to suck it up.

While I tried to untangle the knotted mess, Noelle sang and danced around, ornaments dangling from her fingers and tinsel draped around her neck like a boa. It took a while and more than a few arguments, but the tree was done. Well, pretty much anyway.

I opened a dusty box filled with ornaments and knew these weren’t from our shopping trip. These were Chris’s ornaments he’d pulled out for us. He was a good man, and he was making it hard to find fault with him. If I wasn’t careful, I’d end up heartbroken and crying into my pillow. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I barely survived Nick, I promised I’d never put myself in that position again. I couldn’t. And this time the stakes were higher. Now I had Noelle to consider, and I couldn’t afford to be reckless with her heart.

I shook my head, trying to force the ridiculous thoughts away. It didn’t matter anyway. I was getting ahead of myself. Chris didn’t think about me like that. Why would he? He was just a nice guy helping us out of a crappy situation. As soon as the roads cleared, we’d be on our way, and he’d forget about us before our tail lights even disappeared around the corner.

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?” I replied, trying to keep myself in check. I was running out of patience, but it wasn't Noelle’s fault. It was no one’s fault, not really. I just had to remember that and take a breath before I snapped .

“What’s this?” she asked, holding up something I couldn’t quite figure out.

“Let me have a look.”

I sat on the edge of the couch and held out my hand. Carefully, Noelle stepped around the mess and brought it over to me.

“Oh.”

It looked old.

It looked like it’d seen better days.

It looked like it was made out of macaroni.

“I’m not exactly sure,” I told Noelle honestly. Bits had snapped off the spray-painted pasta, and I suspected it had been around for a while. “Why don’t we put it here on the coffee table and we can ask Chris when he gets back?”

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s just run to the store,” I told her.

“I hope he brings back Oreos,” Noelle mumbled, forgetting about the pasta ornament and grabbing another from the box. Attention span of a goldfish.

I quickly texted Chris to see if he could grab some Oreos before I picked up the bag I’d bought at the Christmas tree farm. It had been filled, well at some point I assume it had been filled, but today the shelves were depressingly bare, although there were some cute little handmade trinkets I couldn't resist. I carefully unwrapped the tissue paper, folded it in a neat pile, and placed the line of ornaments down beside me. It wasn’t until I was halfway through the bag that I realized I may have gone a little overboard.

Noelle and I lined them up along the windowsill and admired our handy work. It was looking decidedly festive in here, and with carols blaring from my phone it was hard to avoid the holiday spirit.

“Mom? ”

“Yes, Noelle.”

“Can we make cookies?”

Huh? This kid never stopped. There were still decorations to be hung, boxes to be put away, and things to be tidied, and already she was moving on to the next thing. I pinched the bridge of my nose and tried to ward off the headache.

“How about you help me finish packing away this mess, then we can see if we have all the things we need to make cookies?” I negotiated.

Noelle looked at me and rolled her eyes. Some days I wanted to smack her sassy little butt, but I couldn’t. She could’ve only gotten that attitude from one place so I had no one to blame but myself. “But cleaning up is boring,” she informed me.

“Well, so is time out, so you choose,” I pushed back.

“Fine.” She huffed before grabbing a box and starting to shove things in it roughly.

The disappointment for Noelle kept coming. If I thought Chris’s fridge was bare, then his pantry was something else. I tried to explain to Noelle that we didn’t have all the ingredients to make cookies and suggested instead she make a card for Chris to say thank you for buying her a Christmas tree.

“But I don't have any glitter,” she whined.

Damn, I wish this kid still napped.

“You’ve got your colored markers. Why don’t you start with them?” I asked, pulling a page from a notebook in my bag and folding it in half to make a card.

Noelle snatched it from my hand, and I went to reprimand her, but decided it wasn’t worth the argument. If drawing kept her entertained for a moment while I finished these decorations and got cleaned up, I’d take the win.

“How do you spell Chris?” Noelle asked, and I spelled it out for her.

“What the? ”

I pulled the tissue paper-wrapped package out of the bag and unwrapped it carefully. I didn’t remember putting this in there. In fact, I specifically remember walking by it, picking it up, shaking my head, and putting it back. Buying mistletoe while staying with a man who set the dormant butterflies in your belly into flight was a risk I wasn’t going to take.

There was no doubt, though. A bunch of mistletoe was in the bag with a bright red ribbon tied around the stalk.

I set it aside like it was a spider that was going to bite me and kept cleaning. But it was like an elephant in the room. My eyes kept drifting back to it, wondering where it’d come from, and more importantly, why.

I found the crumpled ‘Merry Christmas’ sign near the window and taped it back up.

When I picked up a small box stuffed in the corner, I opened it up, realizing instantly that maybe I shouldn’t have. But now Pandora’s box had been opened, curiosity was eating me.

Noisily, I pulled out the glass ornament, glad Noelle hadn’t found it first. It was fine glass, so fine I held it with two hands not wanting to drop it. Engraved on it read, ‘Christmas 2012. Chris and Shayna’. Ouch.

I wanted to stuff it back in the box and pretend I’d never seen it.

I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist.

I wanted to.

But I didn’t.

I couldn't.

Instead, I perched myself on the edge of the couch and carefully unpacked the mystery box. There were a few ornaments, all dated and with their names. Every year there was one right up until they stopped. I wanted to know who she was. Where she was. Why did he still have these? But I guess that was Chris’s story to tell, and I knew better than anyone what it was like to have a story you weren’t ready to share.

“Mom, can you help me draw an elf?” Noelle asked like I was some kind of artist. I had no artistic ability. Stick figures were about the extent of my artistic prowess, but Noelle didn’t care. So, I packed everything away, sealed it back up, and tucked it away in the corner, pretending I’d never snooped

On my knees, I crawled over to Noelle who had every marker in the pack with the lid off, scattered on the floor.

We finished up the card when Noelle complained she was hungry. I checked my phone and wondered where Chris was. He said he was running to the store and would be back, but he’d been gone for a few hours. Guilt smashed into me. What if we’d driven him out of his own home? Was he avoiding us? I mean, I knew we were a lot, but all he had to do was say so and we’d be out of his hair in a heartbeat. I don’t know where we’d go or what we’d do, but I’d figure something out. I always did.

With very few dinner options, I found a frozen pizza and popped it in the oven. Noelle was over the moon at the idea of having pizza for dinner.

The timer on my phone beeped at the same time the front door was shoved open and a blast of frigid air came through.

Chris looked adorably rumpled. His hands were full of shopping bags, almost like he’d tried to carry them all in one go so he didn’t have to do another trip. And from the rapidly dropping temperature sneaking through the open door, I couldn’t blame him.

“Let me help,” I said, rushing over to him and trying to take some.

“I got it,” he replied as he shuffled across to the kitchen and set them all on the counter.

“Is there anything else?” I asked, stuffing my feet into my shoes. If there was more, I was going down to get it.

“Nah, I got it,” he replied, walking across the room and shutting the door. “Damn, it’s cold out there,” he offered as he tugged off his beanie, his hair standing on end. Next came his scarf, coat, and boots. He reached up and hung them on the hook, his sweatshirt rising, showing off a very flat stomach, and suddenly I felt myself sucking mine in.

“Mom, the pizza!” Noelle called out.

I’d completely forgotten.

Chris had distracted me, not that I was complaining, but I’d forgotten about dinner in the oven.

“Hope you don’t mind. I put a pizza in the oven.”

“As long as there’s a slice for me, we’re all good,” he confirmed with a wink.

“Chris?” Noelle asked, and we both froze.

“Yeah?” he replied, turning around and giving her his full attention.

“Do you like pineapple on your pizza?”

Okay. Not what I was expecting, but with Noelle, you never could be sure what was going to come out of her mouth next.

Chris screwed his face up. His nose crinkled and brow furrowed. “Nope. I like cheese pizza the best.”

Noelle squealed. She’d found her soul mate. “Cheese pizza is the best!”

I felt guilty interrupting their moment. “Well then, you’re both in luck. Guess what’s for dinner?”

Chris looked at Noelle.

Noelle looked at Chris.

“Cheese pizza!” they yelled together before high-fiving.

I couldn’t restrain my smile.

We set Noelle up on the floor for a picnic of pizza and juice while Chris and I sat at the kitchen counter and shared our pizza. It was oddly domestic but surprisingly not awkward .

“You guys really brought the Christmas spirit to town with you, didn’t you?” he asked, looking around his apartment.

I set my pizza down. It wasn’t sitting well in my stomach. “Is it too much?”

“Actually, I love it. I haven’t celebrated the holidays in a while. Maybe a little Christmas cheer is exactly what I need,” Chris offered, and I found myself wondering what had changed his mind.

Noelle appeared beside him. “Chris?”

“Yes?” He turned in his seat, giving her his full attention, and she was eating it up.

“I made this for you,” she told him, thrusting the card into his hand.

“What's this?”

“It’s a card, silly.”

“Oh, wow!” Chris looked at the front. It was a misshapen green snowman, but Noelle was so proud of it.

I watched silently over the rim of my glass and sipped on my water, letting them have this moment. When he opened the card, he read aloud the message she’d written. While I’d helped her with the spelling, she’d chosen the words herself.

“Merry Christmas. Thanks for letting us stay. Love Noelle.”

Chris tossed a glance at me over his shoulder, and I just shrugged. I wasn’t getting in the middle of this. It was between them. Then I watched as he jumped off the barstool, bent over, and hugged Noelle. Her eyes went wide when she stared at me, but as soon as I nodded, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him back.

“Thank you so much. I’m going to put this on the fridge right now so I don’t lose it,” Chris declared, walking over to the fridge and sticking it under a magnet front and center. “And I’ve got a surprise for you, too. ”

“You do?” Noelle’s voice raised about four octaves and hurt my ears. When she got excited, she tended to really get excited.

A moment later, Chris was rifling through the bags of shopping still waiting to be put away when he pulled out a blue packet.

“Oreos!”

“Not just any old Oreos. Double-stuffed Oreos.” Chris presented the cookies proudly and Noelle’s eyes went wide.

She turned to me. “Mom, can I have one? Please?”

Some days it sucked being the mom. “Have you finished your dinner?”

“When I’ve finished can I have one?”

“When you’re finished,” I conceded as Noelle scurried back over to her plate and took a huge bite before chewing dramatically.

Chris came back and dropped onto the stool beside me. “Hope that was okay,” he asked, picking up his slice.

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

“If all it took was a packet of Oreos to keep a woman happy maybe I wouldn’t be known as the Grinch,” Chris mumbled, staring at Noelle wistfully.

“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re as Grinchy as you’d like to pretend,” I called him out.

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Care to elaborate? Because out there,” he pointed out the window, “the entire population of Evergreen Lake would disagree.”

“You’re not a Grinch because you bought my daughter a tree. You let us decorate your house. You even dug out your old ornaments. I hate to break it to you Chris, you mightn’t be the biggest fan of the holidays because … actually, I don’t know why. But you don’t hate Christmas. Maybe you just don’t like ho w alone it makes you feel. And before you ask why I’d think that, it’s because I understand.”

“How can you? Noelle is …”

“My everything. Don’t get me wrong, that girl is my whole world. But some days, some nights, all you want is a little adult conversation and a cuddle.”

I should’ve been embarrassed by spilling my heart out on the table to practically a stranger, but maybe that’s what made me do it. Knowing Chris was a stranger made it easier to be honest. To be real. Or maybe I thought I saw my own struggles in his.

He leaned over and bumped his shoulder against mine. “So, you’re a cuddler, are you?”

I felt my face burn.

Out of everything I said, that was the part he picked up on. Typical male.

“I … I …”

My words were cut off when the lights flickered and went out, and Noelle screamed.

“Guess the storm’s here,” Chris declared, springing into action.