Page 56 of Single Dad's Christmas Cookie

It was not generous. It was greedy. I wanted Nova with us, with me. I knew at that moment, unless there was something officially announced between Nova and myself, my mother would never see her as anyone other than the help.

While Amelia kept my mother occupied, I headed back to the kitchen to see Nova and congratulate her on a successful meal. She wasn’t there.

I don’t know why I thought she would wait around or be cleaning up. Everything was clean and the dishwasher thrummed. I saw several notes left out on the counter. One note was instructions for breakfast, another the instructions for the other meal. And there was a note that simply said,Merry Christmas, Bryan and Amelia.

Nova had done everything she had been paid to do—create a remarkable meal and prepare breakfast and a meal for the next day. She had even cleaned up. So why did her absence feel personal?

Her note wishing me a Merry Christmas felt more like a stab to my heart than a genuine sentiment.

I had hoped she would have stayed. I had been serious when I said I wanted to unwrap her as my first gift on Christmas morning. But I realized I hadn’t expressed that in words, and my actions had been more coddling toward my mother.

I had fucked up.

One of Nova’s notes sat in front of a plate of cookies and a small glass of milk.These are for Santa. Do not eat them, unless you’re Santa. I picked up the plate of cookies and headed back to the den. Amelia was staring longingly at the Christmas tree.

“Okay, sweetheart, it’s time for bed. Mother, thank you for staying after dinner and letting Amelia show off her tree,” I announced.

“Do you think Santa will bring me presents tonight?” Amelia’s words were clipped and precise.

“I do,” I admitted. Nova had made certain I was prepared for that to happen. “Look, Nova left us cookies for Santa.”

“What do you mean, Nova left us cookies? Where’s Nova?” Amelia was tired, and I could hear the edge of tears in her voice.

“I would think your cook went home,” Mother said in her tight, precise tone. “Why would she stay?”

“Nova is my friend,” Amelia started.

“What have I told you about?—”

“Mother,” I cut her off. “It’s Christmas. Not tonight.” Now was not the time to break Amelia’s little heart with the rhetoric that the help could not actually be Amelia’s friend.

Amelia sniffled. Her little chin wiggled as she did her best not to melt into tears.

I set the plate of cookies down a little harder than I had intended.

“She’s my friend,” Amelia repeated.

“Oh, is she upset over the help again?” Mother quipped.

I lifted Amelia into my arms. “She has had a long day, and yesterday was difficult.” I spoke calmly. “And it’s time for bed. Why don’t you say good night to your grandmother?” I prompted Amelia. “Mother, it’s time for you to go home. I need to put Amelia to bed.”

My mother knew where her coat was. If she could sweep into my house unannounced, she could see herself out. She didn’t evenhave to call for her car. Her driver would have stayed in the car the entire time. Just as my mother expected her paid help to do.

“I wanted Nova to put me to bed. She said she would.” Amelia began crying halfway up the stairs. My mother was exhausting, and Amelia had to be on her very best behavior. It was late, and she was tired. I didn’t fault her for crying or being upset that Nova had left without saying goodbye.

But the help doesn’t announce their presence or their departure. I heard that as if Mother’s words were inside my head.

“She had to go home,” I said softly. I wanted her to stay, too, but I hadn’t said anything. That was my fault, and now Amelia was upset, and that was my fault too.

“Why does everybody leave me on Christmas?” She sniffled.

“Oh, sweetheart. Nova only went home.” I swept her hair back and kissed her brow. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”

I was going to have a long night. Once I got Amelia to bed, I had to wrap about a million presents from Santa Claus. Then, I had to figure out how to get Nova back. She belonged here.

25

NOVA

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