Page 42 of Unwrapped By the Grumpy Mountain Man
Inside, their eyes widen at the Christmas decorations I put up yesterday. Lucy immediately runs to the tree, still bare of ornaments.
"You got a tree!" she squeals. "Can we make it pretty it? Please, please, please?"
"That's exactly what I thought we could do," I smile, setting their bags down. "Your dad told me all the decorations are in boxes in the attic. I just need help bringing them down."
"I know where they are," Angie offers quietly. "I helped Daddy put them away last year."
Silvie finally steps all the way in, closing the door behind her. "Mom never lets us decorate the tree," she says, almost to herself. "She says we'll mess it up."
My heart twinges at the casual revelation. "Well, here you can decorate however you want. It's your tree too."
We spend the next hour bringing down boxes of ornaments and lights. I untangle strings of colorful bulbs while Lucy bounces around excitedly, Angie carefully unpacks ornaments, and Silvie supervises with growing interest.
"This one's mine!" Lucy holds up a handprint ornament made of clay. "I made it in preschool!"
"Mine's the snowflake," Angie shows me a delicate paper creation.
"What's yours, Silvie?" I ask gently.
She hesitates, then reaches into a box and pulls out a small wooden frame containing a photo of the three girls with Hudson. "Dad helped me make this last year."
"It's beautiful," I say sincerely. "Where should we put it on the tree?"
A hint of a smile touches her lips. "Near the top. So everyone can see it."
As we decorate, I notice Silvie checking her phone regularly, smiling at whatever messages she's receiving.
"Friend from school?" I ask casually.
Her cheeks color slightly. "Yeah. Trevor."
"Is Trevor a special friend?" I keep my tone light, non-teasing.
Silvie glances at her sisters, who are busy arranging ornaments on the lower branches. "Kind of," she admits quietly. "He sits next to me in class."
"It's nice to have someone to talk to at school," I offer, hanging a glittering snowman.
"Mom says I'm too young to like boys." She frowns. "She says it's trashy."
I nearly drop the ornament in my hand. "There's nothing wrong with having friends who are boys, Silvie. And there's certainly nothing trashy about it."
She watches me carefully. "Did you have boy friends when you were my age?"
"I did," I nod. "My friend Jason used to share his comic books with me at recess. We were buddies all through elementary school."
"Does Trevor like you back?" Lucy pipes up, revealing she's been eavesdropping.
Silvie's face flames red. "Lucy! Mind your own business!"
"Makes sense," Lucy defends. "If you like someone, you want them to like you back."
"She's not wrong," I agree, hanging another ornament. "But it's also okay if someone just wants to be friends."
Silvie studies me for a moment. "There's no one I can talk to about this stuff," she says finally. "Mom just gets mad, and Dad gets all weird and changes the subject."
My heart aches for this young girl trying to navigate growing up without proper guidance. "You can always talk to me, Silvie. About anything. I promise not to get weird or mad."
She doesn't respond, but something shifts in her expression—a slight softening around the eyes, a tentative lowering of her guard.
