Page 28 of A Winter Romance
His mother, father, and Aryn sat on the mismatched chairs, whilst Sero stood at the wood stove, using a knife to cut orange segments and place them in a pot of stewing red wine. The scents of cloves, cinnamon, and star anise rose from the liquid.
“How do you decorate, then?” his father asked.
Aryn looked back and forth between them. “We don’t.”
“What! But it’s not Solstice without decorations!” Sero’s mother shook her head. “No, we can’t have that.” She stood. “Ila, Ethred,” she called out towards the girls’ room, “we’re going out and cutting more branches. Aryn needs to experience decorating for Solstice.”
“What about me? I’m still making the mulled wine,” Sero asked as his mother pushed Aryn towards the door and shoved his jacket at him. Sero didn’t bother commenting on the fact that his parents’ cabin was already heavily decorated. He knew that wouldn’t stop his mother.
“We won’t be gone long, my darling. We’ll bring him back to you soon.”
Aryn laughed as he was ushered through the door, leaving Sero alone in the cabin. He couldn’t help but smile as he stirred the wine. Sero glanced often at the door as he waited for the return of his family and Aryn. He hoped his family weren’t overwhelming Aryn. He loved them, but he knew they were a lot.
Finally, the door banged open.
“We’re back!” his father called.
Green filled the doorway. His father stepped into the room, carrying evergreen branches. His mother followed him in. A second later, both his sisters appeared, dragging their own branches, bringing snow, mud, and pine needles into the home.
“We have some more too,” Ethred said, puffing heavily.
Aryn appeared in the doorway, arms full as well. The Solstice gift Sero had given Aryn was pinned to his jacket. Aryn wore it every single day, and every single time Sero saw it, it filled him with warmth.
Sero placed the wooden spoon down and approached Aryn. “How was it?”
“Fun.” Aryn’s cheeks were flushed pink from the cold. “I’ve never collected tree branches before!”
At first, Aryn had been so concerned about Sero’s parents liking him. It was nice to see Aryn relaxed and happy with his family.
“I’m glad. Oh. You have a little…” Sero reached out and pulled a twig from Aryn’s curly hair peeking out from beneath his woollen cap.
“Thanks.” His gaze lingered on Sero. Sero wished they were alone.
“Aryn, come help me hang the branches by the window,” Sero’s mother called out. “I’ll show you how.”
Ila and Ethred shoved branches randomly around the room, anywhere there was still space. Meanwhile, his mother showed Aryn how to wrap ribbons around the branches and place them.
Some families in the village leaned towards a light touch regarding decorations, preferring careful, thought-out placements. Not his family. They believed more was more, and the usually cramped store became some sort of weird indoor forest. The smell of pine mixed with the smell of the spiced mulled wine. It was the scent of Winter Solstice.
“Perfect, Aryn,” his mother said as Aryn arranged evergreen branches along the window frame. “That’s just perfect.”
Aryn smiled widely at the compliment. He navigated his way through the cluttered store to the entrance, where the branches were piled. He picked up one. “Umm. Where else can I put them?”
“Hmmm. We seem to have quite a lot,” his father said. “Maybe we cut too much.” He stroked his beard.
“I guess we could put them in the other rooms,” his mother said.
“We already decorated in there,” Ethred said.
“Sero’s place only has a few branches inside,” Aryn said. “We could take some over there?”
“Excellent idea.” His father grabbed a bunch and exited out the door.
“Wait a minute. What about the mulled wine?” Sero asked.
“Just take it off the stove, my darling,” his mother said, waving her hand. “It’s probably done.” She wrapped an arm around Aryn’s shoulders, and they left through the door, Sero’s sisters following behind.
Shaking his head, and fighting back a laugh, Sero took the spiced wine off the heat before following the others. They had already descended on his home, the front door wide open.
