Page 59 of Grinchland
I wanted to agree with her. I wanted to tell her that I wished for that too, but I could never make Clara happy. It was better to let her go and find her happiness somewhere else than to have her stay where the one thing she loved was forbidden.
Isabelle suddenly twisted in my lap so she could look up at me. “Is it because I messed up the play?” Her voice wavered with sadness and it broke me inside.
I tucked her hair behind her ear before I shook my head. “No. She didn’t leave because of you.” She left because of me. I was the reason she wasn’t here.
Isabelle’s hands were turned palms up in her lap, and she was staring down at them. “I miss the colors. They made me feel happy.”
I frowned as I shifted her up to sit on my left knee in an effort to catch her gaze. “Do you feel sad now?”
Isabelle’s lip began to quiver as her gaze remained glued to her hands. “Ms. Snow made me feel excited. Since she left, I’m sad again.” Finally, she raised her gaze to meet mine. “I don’t want to feel sad again.”
I stared at her, taking my daughter in. I searched her gaze for any sign of the apathy that I saw after the accident, but it wasn’t there. Maybe Clara had been right. Maybe Isabelle just had a case of stage fright and I had overreacted. Isabelle was still with me. She was alive and breathing. Her eyes were bright, albeit sad.
And then guilt coated my chest.
In an effort to protect my daughter, I’d isolated her. I kept her from experiencing life because I was too scared that I would lose her. Instead of helping her live, she was slowly dying from my inability to see past my grief.
I’d taken things from my daughter with the hope that I was keeping her safe.
I thought canceling Christmas would make me feel better, but in the last three years, I wasn’t any happier. If anything, I was more unhappy than I’d ever been.
These last few weeks with Clara had made me happy, and I’d felt more free than I had in a long time. And Clara was the bringer of Christmas while I was the destroyer of it.
I stared at Isabelle, taking her all in and forcing myself to feel all of my emotions instead of running from them. I let myself feel sadness, grief, and anguish. But on the flip side, I also felt happiness, peace, and relief.
Just as all those emotions can exist in the same body, maybe Clara and I could exist in the same world as well. Sure we were opposites, but did that mean we weren’t meant to be?
I helped Isabelle to stand and then stood myself. I walked over to her window and glanced out at Clara’s quiet house. Tucked close to the garage was the tree that Isabelle had picked out.
I never thought I’d relate so closely to an inanimate object, but the longer I stared at it, the more I began to realize that I was like that tree. No one wanted me, but in Clara’s hands, she had created something beautiful. Our little family was happier and brighter with her in it.
Christmas may have caused me pain in the past, but this year, it had brought a new beginning for Isabelle and me. And I was the idiot who let that new beginning pack up and drive away.
Isabelle was standing behind me, holding her dolls tucked close to her chest and looking out the window. I turned and lifted her up. She giggled as she stared down at me.
“What do you think about going to get Ms. Snow?” I asked.
A smile emerged on her lips, and that was all I needed. I set her back down and instructed her to get her shoes on as I pulled my phone from my back pocket. I found my text chain with Todd and began to type.
Call me ASAP. I need your help.
TWENTY-FIVE
CLARA
I’d never had such appreciation for my couch as I did in this moment. It was Christmas Eve, and instead of slaving away in front of the oven, making honey-glazed ham and the fluffiest mashed potatoes, I was lying on my couch in a cocoon of blankets, trying to get some sleep. But Abbie wasn’t having it.
She was tapping her chin while pacing in front of me. “What about caroling?” She paused and pointed at me. “You love a good harmonization.” She cleared her throat and hummed a few notes.
I pulled my blanket tight to my chin. “No,” I said.
“Christmas cookies. And I promise this time I will try to decorate better.”
I yawned. “I’m tired of Christmas cookies.” That was a sentence I never thought I would say, and it almost felt criminal.
Abbie stared at me. It must have shocked her too. It took a moment for her to return to earth. She shook her head before she pointed at me again. “I’ve got it, last-minute presents. You love shopping for last-minute presents.”
I shook my head. “No.”
