Page 13 of Wishing for Christmas
Grams gasped and dropped her pen, standing up to take Clara into her arms. “What is it, honey? What happened?”
Clara said nothing, just continued to cry, her back shaking with each sob as she stood wrapped in those familiar arms.
Grams rubbed her back, the feeling both comforting and strong. “Problem at work?” she asked.
Clara clung to her, still unable to answer.
“The new boyfriend?”
She managed a nod and sniffed.
Grams let out a long sigh. “Well, I’m sure it’s complicated. But whatever it is, we’ll figure things out together.” She pulled back from her and looked her in the eye. “It’s going to be okay.” She rubbed her thumb gently under Clara’s eye to wipe away a tear. “Let’s make some hot cocoa, and we’ll talk all about it.”
Clara nodded. Grams was exactly the person she needed right now. She longed for the comfort of her grandmother’s assurance that nothing was hopeless and anything was possible. She needed to know there was a way to fix this, that there was a way to get out of this whole mess. She had no doubt that her Grams—the woman who could handle anything—would be the one to help her do it.
She watched as her grandmother pulled things out of the cabinet one by one. There was baking chocolate, peppermint extract, condensed milk, and cinnamon. Grams lined them all up neatly, pointing to each one as if she were taking attendance to make sure she had everything she needed. The peculiar act reminded Clara of something Brent would do.
Clara was dying to tell her what happened. She needed to unload everything, and quick. But she could tell her grandmother’s focus was on the hot chocolate masterpiece she was trying to conjure up. It was typical of Grams. No crisis could be discussed without a comforting side of sugar to help ease the pain. She watched as her grandmother scooped and measured, slowly adding each ingredient into a pot. Grams hummed along with the Christmas album, now playing “God Rest You Merry Gentlemen,” while she leisurely stirred. The scent of melting chocolate quickly filled the air. The record’s tidings of comfort and joy only seemed to taunt Clara further.
Ever since she was a child, her grandmother had been the one to fix all her problems. When she had been picked on byanother kid in kindergarten, Grams was the one who taught her how to stand up for herself. When she didn’t make the basketball team in middle school, Grams helped her figure out what sport to try next. When Matthew had broken up with her, Grams convinced her she was better off without him. Clara hadn’t always taken her grandmother’s advice over the years. But looking back on it all now, she realized Grams hadalwaysbeen right. She had the solution to every problem.
Clara glanced at her watch. She wondered how long this cocoa was going to take. She was tempted to start talking about everything, but she knew that she was going to need Grams’s undivided attention for this. She grabbed a box of tissues from the counter and patted her soggy eyes as she waited. Her grandmother added her signature peppermint flavoring and continued stirring. Grams was always so calm—so patient. Clara wished she could be more like her.
On the other hand, was it absolutely necessary to make cocoa fromscratchat a time like this? She was sure there was an instant cocoa fix for times such as these. Couldn’t Grams hurry up the process, just this once? Clara laid her head down on her folded arms on the countertop. She closed her eyes and continued to wait. Her head ached.
Finally, she heard the splash of cocoa being poured into mugs. She raised her head to see Grams top off each one with a generous squirt of whipped cream and a dash of sprinkles.
“Now, let’s go into the living room, and you can tell me what’s going on.”
Clara let out a breath of relief and stood. She walked to the sofa, followed closely by Grams and the beagles. The snow was falling outside, and they both stopped to gaze out the window to savor the scene. Even Clara could appreciate the momentary stillness.
They sat together on the sofa in front of a warm fire. The dogs sat at their feet. With steaming mugs of perfect cocoa, Clara felt calmer already, her entire body relaxing. She wasn’t quite sure how her grandmother always managed to do that.
Grams placed a heavy patchwork quilt over their laps. They both took their first careful sip.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” her grandmother asked, holding her cup close to her chest.
“It’s Brent.” She sniffed.
“Did you have a fight?”
Clara shook her head. “He’s being deployed.”
“Oh?”
“For a year! And we don’t even get to spend Christmas together.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Her grandmother took a long, resigned breath. She set her mug down and reached for Clara’s hands. She peered into Clara’s eyes with that look of assurance that only she could give.
Clara gave her a faint smile and rested her head on Grams’s shoulder, simply enjoying being next to her. Her Grams stroked her hair with a comforting rhythm.
Finally, her grandmother spoke. “You know, Clara, if you and Brent are meant to be, there will be other Christmases in your future.”
Clara squeezed her fists in frustration. “ButthisChristmas was the one I needed to figure out if he’s the one—like with you and Grandpa.”
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow.
“This was going to be it, Grams. I just had that feeling. Ireallylike this guy. More than I even knew.” She gazed off into the distance, thinking about his dimpled smile and dreamy eyes. “He’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for my entire life.”
