Page 46 of Wishing for Christmas
Brent raised his head. “There will be plenty of time to talk about that kind of stuff—again.” He smiled. “I think I’d rather enjoy being here at this party with you tonight.”
She nodded, understanding the part that went unspoken. She was relieved to see his smile return, the one she’d come to expect over the past couple of months. It was always full of hope. Although, she couldn’t help but wonder now if there was another side to him—one that she found herself wanting, more than anything, to get to know.
He looked her straight in the eye, his expression turning serious. “I do have one question for you, though.”
Her stomach knotted. It was only reasonable that he was going to finally demand some kind of explanation for her memory loss. He certainly deserved one. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the question she could no longer avoid.
He looked at her from underneath his eyebrows. His intensity gave way to a flirtatious smile. “Would you like to make some cookies with me tomorrow?”
Clara let out an exhale of relief. She nodded with enthusiasm. “I would love to,” she said.
Now just wasn’t the right time. And timing, she was quickly learning, was everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
BRENT
The next day, Brent crouched on the floor of his garage in front of his toolbox. He turned a wrench over in his palm. He’d missed working with his hands. He needed to make something again. To construct something. To create a plan and see it through. He’d considered getting started on a new woodworking project. Maybe another gift for Clara. But he was finding it hard to get inspired since finding his last project had been so easily dismissed. He tapped his fingers against the wrench, trying to wrap his mind around everything.
Brent shifted his focus to his truck, propped up on jack stands. He lay on his back and slid underneath it. Changing the oil in his truck wasn’t anything to get excited about. Even so, he was thrilled to be doing it. It was a process he could control. He knew each step he needed to take and how it would turn out in the end if he did it right. If only everything in life could be that simple.
He opened the drain plug and removed the filter, then watched as the oil began to drip into the pan. Brent slid back out from underneath and sat up, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his flannel shirt. He organized the contents of his toolbox while he waited, needing to find some purpose for his jittery hands. Hefrowned. His thoughts were impossible to steer toward anything other than last night’s conversation.
Brent knew Clara had been out of sorts, but forgetting about the gift entirely? This wasn’t leftover stress from the deployment. And it certainly wasn’t as simple as an adjustment period anymore. No, there was something much more serious going on.
It was almost as if she’d intentionally blocked the gift from her memory. It certainly wasn’t the only thing she’d chosen to forget from the past year. Perhaps she had shut the entire deployment from her mind. But the question he continued to struggle with was, why?
He thought about those counselors who would come into the squadron every now and then to talk to the airmen. The Air Force was taking the mental health of its pilots seriously these days, and efforts had only increased over the past few years. Brent knew memory loss could be a way of blocking out painful circumstances. He wondered if Clara needed to talk to a professional about all of this. She seemed to be having trouble opening up to him, but maybe someone with more experience with this type of problem could help her.
Brent thought back to that Christmas morning nearly a year ago now. He’d been so excited for her to see the gift he’d made, and nervous too. He’d worked on it for weeks before the deployment. Brent hoped she would love it. It wasn’t just about the time it took, though. It was also heavy with a significance that he hadn’t been entirely sure she was ready for.
When he’d first planned the gift, it had been a simple wooden star—a homemade tree topper for her Christmas tree. He felt it was an appropriate enough gift for a relatively new relationship—something made by his hand, suitable for the holiday, and not too serious for a first Christmas together.
But once he’d received the call about the deployment, everything in his plans had changed. Suddenly, Brent had been faced with a new question. Did he see a future with Clara? As he held the star in his hands that night, not knowing what their fate would be, he looked at it in a new light. At that moment, he’d realized he no longer wanted it to be just a casual gift for a girlfriend. Brent had wanted her to have this star on top of her tree that Christmas and perhaps every Christmas afterward as well.
Right then, he’d decided to paint it blue. A blue star in the military represented having a family member serving on active duty. It was the best way he could think of to let her know how important she was to him. Although she wasn’t his family yet, it was his way of telling Clara that he wanted a future with her.
Brent was well aware that when someone served in the military, it wasn’t only the service members who sacrificed, but also their families. Between frequent moves, long deployments, and long separations, military families served their country right alongside their loved ones.
Brent knew this better than anyone. He’d grown up as an Air Force “brat,” after all. He remembered how military kids had been compared to dandelions because of their ability to grow anywhere and thrive in difficult conditions. He’d never fully appreciated being compared to a weed, but now he could understand what a special thing that was. To be able to constantly move around and take root in a new environment—and grow. Yes, military families really were special; he realized it now.
This blue star had signified to Brent that he wanted Clara to be his partner alongside him through it all. It hadn’t been part of his plan, but something stronger than a checklist had compelled him to move forward with it anyway.
Brent scooted himself into position and slid back underneath the truck. He screwed in the new filter and replaced the drain plug before he shimmied his way back out. He thought back to Christmas morning last year.
Brent had calledClara early to wake her up. He’d wanted their first moment of Christmas to be spent together. He’d told her to go out onto the front porch to find the package Dave had left for her, then instructed her to go sit by the fire and turn on some Christmas music to set the mood. He’d wanted everything to be exactly right.
She started up a Christmas album from her phone. A soft version of “Away in a Manger” was the first tune to play. It was perfect until an incoming call interrupted the moment with Elvis’s “Blue Christmas”—her new ringtone. Clara immediately tried to silence the call to stop the interruption and not ruin the mood, but she kept fumbling with her phone, and Elvis kept crooning. They couldn’t stop laughing. It ended up setting a more perfect backdrop to the moment than either of them could have planned for.
Brent had enclosed a card in the package.
Clara, I hope this star guides us through this year apart and will bring us back together for another Christmas. May it adorn our future Christmas trees.
—Brent
Clara’s reaction to the gift had been genuine happiness—pure and simple—just as he’d hoped. She’d teared up and held the star close to her heart, seeming to know why it was important. She hadn’t known quite what to say, but the look in her eyes, even over a video call, told him everything he’d needed to know. She was in it too, for the long haul. It had been the major turning point in their relationship. That was the moment when they both realized they were in for a commitment—and a future.
The song had been more fitting than they could have imagined. A perfect anthem for their first Christmas. They may have been missing each other and, of course, they wished they hadn’t been apart—but deep down, they both knew there was something special about their blue Christmas. With the handmade blue star at the center of it all.
