Page 34 of Christmas Charms
“So this is the famous Ashley James,” Josh says, eyes twinkling. “I’ve heard a lot about you lately.”
“Is that so?” I ask, and my gaze flits to Susan.
She gives me a tiny, nearly imperceptible shake of her head to assure me that she’s kept my possibly-magical charm bracelet a secret. Thank goodness. My return to Owl Lake has been eventful enough so far without the entire town knowing I believe that I might have had a run-in with the actual Mrs. Santa Claus.
Isthat what I believe?
My breath goes shallow. I’m not sure what to think about the bracelet anymore. I just know I’m stuck with it for the time being.
“Your dog is pretty,” Olivia says, rubbing one of Fruitcake’s silky ears between two delicate fingertips.
Sophie nods. “I like his sweater.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” I tell the girls in a mock whisper, and then I flash open my red coat to reveal my matching ugly sweater.
My parents do the same, and the girls collapse into a pile of giggles. They’re precious—identical from the tiny furrow in their foreheads when they laugh all the way to the perfect turnout of their feet. I remember the pictures on Susan’s phone of Olivia and Sophia dressed in fluffy pink tutus and soft ballet slippers at their recent ballet recital. And suddenly, I’m not thinking about Aidan anymore. Instead, I’m thinking about Jeremy and the things he’d said about marriage and family.
Marriage isn’t for people like us.
Had he really thought I’d never want what Susan, Josh, Sophie and Olivia have? Sure, I have goals and aspirations for my career, but marriage and a family are also a part of my dreams. A big part, I realize, as Fruitcake happily leans into the little girls’ pats and my throat goes thick.
When I look up, I find Dad watching me with a sad smile. He clears his throat, pulls a few dollar bills out of his pocket and presses them into Sophie and Olivia’s mittened hands.
“It looks like you two could use some spiced cider,” he says with a wink.
“Thank you!” they cry in unison, gazing up at Susan for permission to skip over to the gazebo.
My parents exchange a meaningful glance, and my mom volunteers to accompany Susan, Josh and the girls on their quest for warm treats.
“We’ll be right back.” She gives me a wink.
And then it’s just Dad and me, standing beneath the shelter of the noble fir’s stately branches. I take a deep inhale. The air smells like evergreen, roasted chestnuts and fresh sparkling snow—like Christmas in the Adirondacks. It’s the scent of my childhood, and I suddenly wish I could bottle it and take it back to the city with me, so I never lose my home again.
“You’ve made your mother’s Christmas,” my dad says quietly. I had a feeling he orchestrated the group exit so we could have a moment alone together, and it seems as if I was correct. “Mine too, obviously. But thank you for going along with it all—the cookies, the sweater. It means the world to her.”
“It means the world to me, too,” I say. He has no reason to believe me since I’ve been so bad about visiting, especially during the holidays, but I hope he knows how much they mean to me. I hope with my whole heart.
“I’m sorry about what happened with Jeremy, honey. I want you to know that.” My father zips his puffer coat up to his chin and tucks his hands into his pockets. It’s starting to snow again, and his broad shoulders are covered in a fine layer of frost. “We’re happy to have you home, but we know it’s not what you’d planned. Owl Lake can’t exactly compete with Paris.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t have to compete. Christmas in Owl Lake is special, all on its own.”
All around us, people warm their hands on hot cups of cider and cheer as a fire engine pulls slowly up to the inn. I recognize it at once as Aidan’s ladder truck, and it’s rimmed in flashing multi-colored Christmas lights. Illuminated snowflakes decorate the front bumper, and a pair of firefighters are leaning out of the truck’s back windows, tossing candy canes into the crowd.
I glance at my dad and grin. He’s behind the Owl Lake Fire Department’s participation in the Christmas tree lighting. About a decade ago, the town tree was so tall that no one had a ladder high enough to reach its upper branches and place the star on top. As fire chief, my dad’s solution was to extend the ladder on the department’s biggest engine and have one of the firefighters climb to the end and secure the star in place. As we were walking over, Mom told me that it’s now a town tradition.
Suddenly, the fact that Aidan didn’t accompany his family to the tree lighting ceremony makes more sense. I suppose I should have known he’d be the one doing the honors this year.
“I know you weren’t fond of Jeremy,” I say. If Dad and I are having a heart-to-heart, we may as well put all of the cards on the table. Even the messy ones. “I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention to your opinion. As it turns out, you were right about him.”
“Oh, sweetheart, don’t be sorry. All I want is for you to be happy. That’s the most important thing of all to me and your mom.”
He wraps a warm arm around my shoulders as Mom, Susan, Josh and the girls return from the gazebo just in the nick of time. The ladder on the fire truck is fully extended, and a fireman in a Santa hat is climbing up its rungs.
“Uncle Aidan!” Olivia shouts, jumping up and down.
Sophie gives my hand a tug. “That’s our uncle up there.”
“Wow, you must be really proud of him,” I say, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Susan watching me with an expression so wistful, it makes my chest ache.
