Page 14 of Wishing for Christmas
Grams nodded. “Well, maybe you just need to wait a little longer for him.”
Clara sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m willing to wait until next Christmas for him. I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of relationship. It sounds so hard.” She stared down at her lap, facing the difficult truth: As much as she wanted a future with Brent, this wasnotwhat she had signed on for. She moved her gaze to the floor. The dogs seemed to look up at her with sympathy. “I just can’t see a future for us with all of this to deal with.”
Grams stopped stroking her hair and took her by the chin. She had a serious expression on her face. “Clara, I know you like things done quickly, but sometimes life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes, you have to play with the hand you’re dealt.”
Her grandmother’s words felt like a sudden slap. Clara sat up straighter. She swallowed, unsure how to respond.
It was true. Life didn’t always happen the way we wanted it to; she was old enough to know that. But in her defense, this seemed like an especially unfair situation. A little more sympathy would have been nice.
And yet, this was one of the things she loved most about her grandmother. She wouldn’t just tell her what she wanted to hear. Grams’s no-nonsense honesty was as valuable to Clara as her comforting hugs were. Sometimes in life we need someone to grab us by the shoulders and smack us in the face—metaphorically speaking. That someone for her had always been her Grams.
Still, it didn’t make it any easier to accept, especially right now. Clara squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn’t been looking for a lesson on the hard realities of life. Not tonight. No, right now she wanted shared outrage over the situation. She needed Grams to get furious on her behalf and come up with a plan to get herout of this mess. She needed a show of solidarity to fight this problem.
Clara took a sip of her cocoa too quickly. The heat burned in her throat, and her eyes watered. She took a moment to recover, waiting for her grandmother to say something else. She didn’t.
Clara let out a long exhale. “I guess you’re right. But isn’t timing everything? And the timing for me and Brent . . . well, things couldn’t possibly be stacked against us any more than they are. The circumstances are definitely not on our side.”
Her grandmother remained quiet. She sipped her cocoa slowly, then set it back down. She looked out the window as the snowfall got heavier around the house. Finally, she turned toward Clara, a thoughtful look on her face. She pursed her lips and nodded. “Or, maybe they are.”
Clara rubbed her temple with her free hand. She had no idea what her grandmother meant.
“Clara, I was a military wife for many years.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her tone was more curt than she had intended it to be. She knew her grandpa had been in the Army before she was even born. He’d even had military honors at his funeral when he died a few years ago. What she didn’t understand was why her grandmother was turning the focus to herself right now.
Her grandmother reached out and held her by the elbows. Her expression was soft. “Distance can be hard on a relationship. But it can also create special connections too. In fact, sometimes it can bring a relationship even closer.”
Clara rolled her eyes. Why was her grandmother not seeing her side on this? She didn’t want a “Look at the bright side” speech—not now.
She pinched her mouth tight as she fought back a new batch of tears. “But Brent and I . . . our relationship never even got thechance to really get going, to see what would happen. He could have been the one, and now I’ll never know.”
Grams leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Don’t deprive yourself of what could be a blessing in disguise. Remember, time is a gift.”
Clara let out a breath of frustration. She closed her eyes to think. She wanted to continue arguing her side with Grams, to make her understand why this was unfair, no matter how you looked at it. But how could she do that when she didn’t even understand what her grandmother was talking about?
She leaned her head back against the sofa and held the warm mug against her stomach. It was no use. It didn’t look like her grandmother was going to fix this after all. She wasn’t going to find a way to get Brent out of the deployment. She wasn’t even willing to give it the appropriate coddling it deserved. No, it looked like Clara was on her own.
Grams was quiet as she laid her head back on the sofa and pulled the quilt up over her shoulders. Clara decided to simply enjoy the warmth of the fire. Soft piano music played from the record player. The beagles had gone to sleep, and Clara recognized the familiar breathing pattern of her grandmother, who slowly began to drift off as well. She loved this about Grams—her ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time. They could be mid-conversation one minute, and she’d be out like a light the next. Clara supposed that was one of the benefits of growing old—being so comfortable with your surroundings that you could nod off anytime you liked. Must be nice.
Clara lifted her head and passed an eye over the living room. All the familiar Christmas decorations were there. The garland over the hearth, the giant bow on the stair landing. The adorable Santa knick-knacks were scattered about. The room was dim, except for the bright lights on the tree and the glow of the fire.
Clara felt sick in the pit of her stomach. Her thoughts went right back to Brent. She wished he was with her right now, watching the snowfall from the window and enjoying the fire next to her. Instead, he was busy getting packed for his deployment—the deployment that would separate them. Probably for good.
Her eye landed suddenly on a worn brown box in the corner of the room, next to the tree: her family’s decorations. Decades of old ornaments and handmade trinkets all sat patiently in the weathering box, waiting to be displayed again for another season.
She set down her mug, and stayed quiet as she rose from the sofa so she wouldn’t wake Grams. She tiptoed over to the corner and knelt beside the box.
Peering inside, she was greeted by the sight of childhood relics, along with fluffy strands of garlands and a glittered-filled star. She dug farther into the box and was caught off guard by the blinding gleam of a golden ornament. She pulled it out, and it glistened against the bright lights from the tree. It was beautiful. Clara didn’t remember ever seeing it before. It had a small clasp on one side and a shiny braided chain attached. It was perfectly round and the size of a compact mirror. It had to be an antique.
She turned it over in her hands and opened it with care. It was a pocket watch. A timepiece sat on one side. On the other was a black-and-white photo of a young couple. She recognized the familiar faces—her grandparents. She pulled it out. Her grandpa, in his Army uniform, appeared handsome and happy. Her Grams, in a party dress, with a huge open-mouthed grin. Clara flipped the picture over. Someone had written on the back.
Christmas 1967.
Clara thought for a moment about the stories her grandmother had told her. This would have been their first Christmas together. This was the Christmas they had fallen in love, never thinking twice about it. They had simply known. She looked closer and saw a tiny inscription on the ornament that had been covered by the picture.
Time is precious when love is new,
A Christmas wish will soon come true.
