Page 61 of The Bright Side of Christmas
“But Iamyour favorite.” I sigh in exasperation, then turn to Adam, who is close behind me.
Mom sets platters of bacon and eggs, along with the cinnamon rolls, on the table, then gestures toward the table.“Come on, sit down, you two.” Before we can move, though, my dad steps closer and puts out a hand, giving him a surprisingly kind look.
“Adam, I’m Pete, Wren’s dad. Good to have you here.” Adam takes the offered hand and shakes it, and a mix of confusion and relief floods me when I note it’s not aggressive like Madden and Jesse’s. Then he moves to sit at the head of the table before pointing at the cinnamon rolls. “Jess, send me over those rolls, will you?”
Madden looks at our dad, aghast, but Jesse grabs a platter and hands it to Dad without hesitation. I catch Mom’s eye, and she winks at me, and somehow, someway, I know this conversation is done and we’ve survived. I give her a grateful smile.
The rest of the unexpected brunch goes well, with Emma chattering along nearly the whole time, asking a million random questions to Adam—“What do you like better, unicorns or mermaids?” or “Do you think cats are better than dogs?”—and filling me in on all of the sixth-grade drama.
Well, that is, until I feel it happening.
I’m listening to Emma explain to Adam why his answer—that he would rather fly than speak to animals—is absolutely wrong when I hear my dad and brothers talking at the other side of the table.
“The wreaths gotta be brought down to the senior center. I told Maude I’d get them to her on Thursday, but I’m going to have to be here to receive a shipment at that time.”
“Can you drop them on Friday instead?” Madden asks, and Dad shakes his head.
“No, the volunteers are only there on Thursday afternoon.”
He’s right; I know this because I coordinated those volunteers, which was my first attempt to improve at delegating some of the holiday decoration tasks. The senior center islocated next to the community center. Since the holiday festival is taking place at the community center, I would like to add extra decorations to the surrounding buildings. The volunteers are supposed to add the wreaths donated by my parents to as many doors as possible on Thursday afternoon.
“Well, Wren can probably do it on a different day, right? Send her home with them, and she can hang them tomorrow or Monday,” Madden says. I fight back my urge to glare at him, and my shoulders go tight. They ease a little when Adam reaches over, placing a hand on my knee. Just his touch is enough to calm my racing mind.
All eyes at the table turn to me, and my heart starts to race.
The thing is, Icoulddo it. I could go home with them today and try to pencil in some time in the next day or two to head downtown and hang them myself. I won’t be able to do it tomorrow since I’m supposed to spend most of the day at school, setting up for the big Polar Express party I volunteered to head. However, maybe Monday morning before school, I could fit it in.
But the gnawing and uncomfortable fact is that I don’twantto. I don’twantto rush and try to fit this errand into my already busy week. And I don’t like how that’s sitting with me, the one who would usually jump at any opportunity to help.
Does that make me a bad person? Am I a bad sister or daughter if I don’t want to pitch in?
Relief washes through me when my mom speaks up, though, easing my own concerns.
“I’m sure Wren has enough on her plate right now, with the decorating committee and whatnot. You remember how busy Grandma always was, and she was a lot better at delegating.” My mom gives me a stern look I hope Adam misses, but I return her look with gratitude all the same.
“She always has time to help out,” Madden says, and my jaw goes tight. “How long could it really take to drop off some wreaths?”
“Or you could do it yourself,” Mom starts, giving him what I know from experience to be a cutting glare.
“I’m busy! I’m just saying she’s always free to help out.”
“Madden King, I?—”
“I can just—” I start, wanting to end this before it becomes a real issue. But before I can, a new voice joins the mini argument, silencing everyone.
“Wren’s busy; she can’t do it. The woman barely goes to sleep each night as it is, trying to do everything herself.”
The glare Madden throws toward me and Adam has me opening my mouth, but again, I’m stopped.
“But I can help.”
I turn to look at Adam with wide, shocked eyes, but he keeps his gaze locked on my father. His hand does tighten on my leg, though, in what I think is supposed to be reassurance.
“I’ve got nothing going on next week. I can come here on Thursday, pick up the wreaths, and deliver them. You can give me directions, right?” Finally, he turns to me, and I see a command toaccept thiswritten across his handsome face. He expects me to argue, to tell him I’ll just do it myself, but all I feel is genuine relief and utter gratitude. Not only did he stand up to my brother for me, but he’s also creating a solution that lets me feel guilt-free and doesn’t require me to do it myself.
He’s perfect.
Absolutely perfect for me.
