Page 7 of Wild Christmas
“Hmm,” she mutters, not convinced. “You can come back anytime, you know, if it gets too intense. It’s not right that you’re stuck up in that room all on your own like a prisoner.”
I’m regretting telling my aunt about the arrangements and spending every night alone in my room.
“It’s fine, really. I’m getting a lot of reading done.”
Which is an understatement. I’ve read almost every book that was left on the shelf, and today when I was in Hope I joined the local library and checked a stack of books out. I’ve never had so much time to myself.
In France the family didn’t include me every night, but they didn’t not include me every night either. I watched movies with the family, helped cook meals, and played backgammon with Martine, the mom. And I had evenings off where I met up with other au pairs and went to the English cinema and sat in cafes drinking strong French coffee and eating way too many pastries.
It was fun, but there was always something going on. It was always busy. I craved the nights when I stayed in, reading the books I found in the English bookshop.
Not everyone would understand this, but I like the solitude. I like evenings tucked up and reading quietly. At least for a few nights I do. By now, it’s getting a little lonely.
I wonder what Nate does in the evenings. I don’t even need to hang out with him. Just to be in the same room as him would be nice, me reading my book and him doing whatever it is he does.
I stifle a sigh so as not to worry Aunt Maxine.
“Have you heard from your mom?” she asks.
I think of the patchy video call we finally had yesterday, because she couldn’t connect on Thanksgiving when I was with Aunt Maxine. There were blue skies and flaxsun umbrellas behind her, and she kept cutting out because internet is patchy on the small remote island in the Pacific where she’s staying.
“She’s fine. Drinking cocktails in the sun and waiting for Dad to arrive.”
Dad’s off for three weeks’ vacation, and they decided to spend a hot Christmas together in the Pacific rather than a cold one in the mountains. The island is close to where Dad is based, and with their 25thwedding anniversary this year, they wanted to do something special.
I was invited of course, but pristine beaches and endless sun have lost their allure after two years in the south of France with a family with their own private yacht.
And they’d never say it, but it’s their special anniversary, and I’m sure they want to spend it just the two of them. My parents get precious little time together since Dad was deployed to the Pacific.
“Are you sure you want to work over Christmas?” Aunt Maxine asks me for the hundredth time. “There’s always room for you at Karl’s.”
My aunt is spending Christmas with my cousin and his family. I know I’d be welcome, but this job is so short and he’s paying me triple to work over the holiday, so I don’t mind staying. Besides, I spent Thanksgiving with Aunt Maxine and her other son came up for a few days, so I’ve had some good family time.
“I don’t mind working, really. I’m needed here, and it’s triple pay. It’s too good to turn down.”
I end the call to my aunt and turn the engine off. I step out of the car, and the cold hits me. It’s the last day of November, and the air temperature has dropped especially this high in the mountains. Everyone’s predicting snow before Christmas.
I breathe in deeply, loving the feeling of cool air in my lungs.
This is why I came back. Because sun and sand suit some people but give me winter in the mountains any day and I’m happy.
I’m more comfortable in snuggly layers before a roaring fire than in a swimsuit at the beach. The French family couldn’t understand it. They thought I was mad to want to come back here. But I guess I’m a mountain girl at heart.
I grab the shopping bags out of the back and head into the house. Tomorrow is December first, which means it’s the day we’re decorating for Christmas.
It’s also a Sunday, so both the girls will be around to help. I just wonder if their grumpy dad will join us.
The girls are watching a Christmas movie when I come in. It’s the first time I’ve seen the big TV on. I dump the bags in the living room and then wonder if that will be a problem with Mr. Clean.
“Where’s your dad?” I ask the girls, and Dora mumbles something and points down the hallway to the side that leads to the laundry and garage.
I head in that direction and find him in the garage, his motorbike propped up on its side with parts strewn on the floor and a tool case open next to him. Nate sits onthe garage floor watching something on his phone. He’s laughing as he watches and I lean on the door, not wanting to interrupt.
He’s handsome when he smiles. The lines of his face disappear, and the dimples creep into his cheeks. He looks younger, carefree. This must be what Nate looked like before he had two little girls to raise on his own.
He notices me at the door and glances up. His smile widens when he sees me, and my stomach flutters at the way he lights up.
“This guy’s hilarious.”
