This Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  “I can’t wait to go skating in the dark!” Phoebe said excitedly as they began the walk to the lakefront where the festival was held.

  “Well, it’s not completely in the dark,” Tess assured her, and herself. “Each year they fill a portion of the pond with lanterns, and they hang lights from all the trees.” She and Andrew took Phoebe to this event every year, but Phoebe still treated it as something new, details of the prior years forgotten.

  Would she forget Andrew too? How he used to put her on his shoulders when they walked home? He’d been the one to teach her to skate because Tess was still a little wary of the ice ever since she’d split her chin open attempting a spiral in the third grade.

  She wanted to keep those memories alive. But doing so meant talking about Andrew. And right now, it hurt too much to do that.

  “Your Aunt Jules won the sprint three years in a row when she was younger,” Tess recalled.

  “That’s right!” Carrie cried out, smiling. She seemed to sense her misstep and sobered herself. Tess frowned, hating that it had to be this way. That maybe it was her fault, for holding a grudge. But how could she not, on behalf of Andrew, her child, and the bond she and Carrie once had?

  “The only reason I started losing was because my skates stopped fitting and my toes went numb on me,” Jules said.

  “I should have gotten you new skates,” Tess said, giving her youngest sister a look of apology, but Jules just looked at her in surprise.

  “That wasn’t your responsibility,” she said. “Besides, where would you have gotten the money? You were saving everything you earned toward college.”

  Tess blinked, thinking about that, but still feeling like somehow, it was her responsibility. That maybe, if Tess had given a little more of herself, Jules’s life wouldn’t be the mess it was today—that maybe instead she’d be settled.

  They turned at the next corner onto Lake Street, and even from a few blocks away, they could hear the music and smell the hot chocolate that was sold at the wooden stands set up for the event. It seemed half the town was already there, standing around the bonfire, warming their hands and toasting marshmallows, drinking mulled wine and hot cider and laughing and smiling.

  Tess was struck at how little things could change; it was the same set up, the same tradition. The same crowd. Except for one. It was all the same and yet oh so different.

  Phoebe ran ahead, Tess calling after her not to slip.

  “She’ll be fine,” Carrie encouraged gently.

  Tess turned to her sharply, but she saw the softness in her sister’s eyes, pleading with her, and she closed her mouth. She was overprotective of Phoebe. But there were some things that she couldn’t shield her from.

  Phoebe was already lacing up her skates by the time the three women reached the edge of the lake.

  “I want to get into the next race,” she said excitedly.

  Jules looked at the schedule of events, which was posted on a blackboard and lit by lanterns. “Looks like that’s a team event, Phoebe.” Her face fell, and she turned to Tess, frowning.

  Curious, Tess leaned forward, her heart sinking at what she saw. It was the Daddy Daughter race. She firmed her mouth, wishing that they hadn’t come, that she had put on a Christmas movie, made a big bowl of popcorn instead. At least at home they were warm and safe, protected from any chance of additional pain.

  “Why do they do this?” Carrie ground out angrily.

  Tess turned to her, seeing the hurt in her eyes that she knew had more to do with their own father and less to do with Andrew. Still, she saw the way Carrie went over and sat down next to Phoebe, trying to brighten her spirits with the offer of a hot cocoa with extra marshmallows. This is what she had needed ten months ago. Six months ago. She needed understanding and unspoken support that only a sister could give. But it hadn’t come. And now, she couldn’t help but feel that it was too late.

  “It’s not right,” Jules added. “Not every girl has a father.”

  “But most do,” Tess said softly, meeting Jules’s gaze. It was the one thing they had in common, the one, horrible bond that united them all, shaped them, and made them who they were today. Tess could still remember how hard Carrie had cried when she was about ten and learned that all her friends were going to a Father Daughter Valentine’s dance, and that she was ineligible. Tess had tried to cheer her up, offering a night under a tent made from sheets, just the three of them. After all, she’d pointed out, Carrie’s friends might have fathers, but they didn’t all have sisters.

  She sighed as she looked at Carrie consoling her daughter the way that she had once consoled Carrie. The past had a way of repeating itself. The good and the bad. But some of it was still in her control.

  “Why don’t we go look at the ice sculptures?” she said, hoping here tone was brighter than she felt.

  “You don’t want to do the races?” a voice said from behind her.

  She turned to see Jeff grinning, a pair of hockey skates slung over his shoulder, gripped by the laces.

  “It’s a partner event,” she said quietly.

  Jeff frowned, glanced from the schedule to the disappointed Phoebe and back to her. “I could do it with her. I mean, if you…don’t mind?”

  “Mind?” She blinked, trying to process what it meant. That Phoebe could do the event. That Jeff cared enough to make her child smile.

  That it wasn’t a father, but a stand-in.

  That Andrew would probably be grateful. As was she. That she shouldn’t be darting her eyes in case that busybody Trudy was here. That she should accept kindness for what it was, and not read further into it. That this was okay. Maybe, more than okay.

  “You’ll have to ask Phoebe,” she said, but she was smiling, and the heavy weight in her chest had been lifted.

  Jeff walked over to where Phoebe was slouched on the bench beside Carrie. “Hey, Phoebe. I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

  Phoebe’s brows knitted. Usually a “favor” meant helping with the dishes or carrying in the grocery bags.

  “What kind of favor?” she asked warily.

  “Well,” Jeff said, coming to sit on the other edge of the bench. “I really wanted to get into the next race, but I don’t have any kids.”

  “Daddy said you didn’t have kids because you like to play in the field,” Phoebe said with a shrug.

  Jeff’s eyes burst open, and Tess stifled a laugh at the same time she hissed at Phoebe to be quiet. But then Jeff started laughing, and so did everyone else, aside from Phoebe, who looked completely confused.

  “It’s play the field,” Jules corrected.

  “I suppose I do,” Jeff said good-naturedly. “And since I don’t have a family of my own, do you think you’d be willing to be my partner for this one?”

  Phoebe’s expression lit up in surprise and she glanced at Tess for approval. Tess nodded, holding back tears at the joy in Phoebe’s face as she flashed a smile and swung her arms around Jeff’s neck.

  “We’d better hurry then!” Carrie crouched to help Phoebe tie her skates before Tess could beat her to it.

  Tess didn’t mind. She stood back, beside Jules, watching as Jeff laced up his skates and Carrie got Phoebe situated, even making sure that her mittens were pulled up all the way.

  “He’s a good man,” Jules said quietly, as she watched Jeff take Phoebe’s hand and lead her off to the starting line.

  “He was Andrew’s best friend,” Tess replied. Of course he was a good man.

  “Are you sure that’s all he is?” Jules asked.

  Tess looked at her sharply. “Jules!”

  Jules just shrugged. “I’m just saying…He’s a good man. And you’re still young, Tess. You have your whole future in front of you.”

  Tess grew quiet. She knew that Jules was right, that technically she did have her entire future in front of her. But every time she thought of that future without Andrew in it she felt paralyzed, locked in the past. Broken.

  “It doesn’t feel rig
ht to move forward when Andrew isn’t here,” she said.

  “But it’s like you just said, Tess. Andrew isn’t here. But you are. And Phoebe is. And you deserve to be happy.” Jules’s tone was gentle, but her message was clear. Unlike Trudy Flannigan, Jules was giving Tess her blessing.

  Tess shook her head. Jules didn’t know what she was talking about. Sure, she could have fleeting moments of happiness, but happy in general? Those days were over. She’d had her happiness. And it had ended, without warning, ripped out from under her.

  Besides, Phoebe had made a very good point. Jeff played the field. He was thirty-five and a confirmed bachelor. He’d never even had a Christmas tree before.

  “Let’s go watch the race,” she said, walking across the path to where Carrie stood along the shore of the frozen lake. She wanted to reach out and touch it with her toe, to make sure the ice was frozen through, that nothing bad would happen, that Phoebe wouldn’t be suddenly taken from her too.

  But then she remembered that Jeff had her. That she was safe with him. She just wasn’t so sure that her heart was safe with him for the long-term, or if she should even want it to be.

  Jeff and Phoebe took second place in the race, something that Jeff blamed on a false start.

  Jeff collected hot chocolates from Juniper Café’s stand and distributed them to all the women, except for Jules, who had gone off with Cole Dempsey once the race was finished. Tess looked around the crowd in search of her now, seeing her standing near the roaring bonfire, laughing at something he was whispering in her ear. A pang went up in her. Concern? Worry? Or maybe…envy. For the first time she dared to think how much easier her life might have been if she’d never loved at all. If she’d never given her heart away, the way Jules never had. If she’d just had fun. Nothing else.

  She shook that thought away quickly. Nonsense. She had loved Andrew for half her life; she never could have made those feelings something less than what they were. She still couldn’t.

  “I want a rematch,” Jeff said, loudly enough to catch her attention and pull her back to the present.

  “Me too!” Phoebe cried, wrinkling her nose.

  “Competitive!” Carrie commented, looking amused at Phoebe’s frustration.

  “She got it from her dad,” Jeff said, giving Tess a secret smile. His gaze held hers for a moment longer than usual, and in that moment, she knew that she didn’t need to think about Jeff replacing Andrew. That in Jeff, Andrew could still live on.

  “Thank you,” Tess said to him, once Carrie and Phoebe had run ahead to look at some of the ice sculptures. “Phoebe would have been crushed to miss that race or feel excluded.”

  “I should be thanking you for letting me borrow your daughter,” he said with a grin.

  Tess smiled to herself. “You never show me any pity,” she said.

  “That’s because I don’t pity you. You’re a strong woman in a difficult situation, Tess. If anything, I’d say that I admire you.”

  Tess laughed in surprise. “Wow, that’s quite a compliment.”

  He shrugged. “You don’t give yourself enough credit sometimes.”

  She considered this. “It’s hard not to feel like I’m letting Phoebe down. I’m only one person.” She glanced at him sideways wondering if she wanted to ruin the good mood by bringing up her latest setback. “I didn’t get the job.”

  Jeff stopped walking and looked at her properly. “Aw, Tess.” His face was etched in regret. Compassion. But not pity, she thought. And she was grateful for it.

  “It’s okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t. Her voice hitched and she caught the emotion in her tone, wishing that she didn’t care so much. Or worry so much. Their savings would only stretch so far, and her confidence was shaken. She was a mother. A wife. What employable skills did she even possess?

  “I know you wanted that job,” he said, looking at her squarely.

  She nodded slowly. “I did. But only for the job security. I guess it’s not the fact that I didn’t get the job that bothers me. It’s more the fear of not finding anything else. I haven’t even had another job interview and I’ve been applying for months.”

  “You know you can always come work at the restaurant,” he said, and Tess gave him a wry look.

  “You do know that my waitressing skills are limited to a summer job at the Boat House,” she said, and they both burst out laughing at that. The Boat House was a popular seasonal lakefront restaurant that was packed with tourists on the outside deck from spring through fall. Tess had spent a disastrous summer after high school graduation working there, being demoted from waitress to busboy after she’d spilled not one, but two rounds of drinks on a table of customers, and eventually landed at the hostess stand solely on account of her long blonde hair.

  “I’d hire you,” Jeff said, winking at her.

  “Thanks, but if you hire me to waitress, then I will know you pity me.” Tess sighed. “I know there will be more to apply to once the holidays are over.”

  “Absolutely,” Jeff said. He nodded firmly, enough to almost make her believe that it was true.

  All the more reason to look forward to the holidays being over, she thought.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jules

  Tess was already positioned at the kitchen island when Jules came down the stairs the next morning. Her standing mixer was on full speed and the room smelled of milk chocolate and sugar. Maybe if Jules had a kitchen like her sister did, she’d be tempted to do more than order takeout, she thought.

  But then again, cooking and baking meant clean up, and dishes, and she was more of a paper plates type of girl. Even with a house this big, with an island the size of the entire footprint of her kitchenette back in Boston, she was still the same person.

  People didn’t change. She was who she was. Her sisters were who they were. Her mother had always been their mother, her moods shifting with the tides. And her father, she had been told over the years, had always been who he was. Couldn’t commit to a job. And later, couldn’t commit to a family.

  Jules felt uneasy when she thought about the job part. But then she remembered that she had committed to a job, or at least tried to.

  But had she changed? Or was that side always in her, waiting to get out?

  She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she could commit, even if she wanted to. And that, well, that was a very big problem.

  “You got an early start this morning,” Jules remarked. She helped herself to a cup of coffee. There was a time not so long ago when Tess would have insisted on serving it herself, playing hostess to her guests, cooking elaborate meals instead of defrosting the casseroles that had been in the freezer since last winter. Jules fought off the worry that Tess was burdened by her presence more than pleased by it.

  Tess glanced at the clock on the oven. “It’s after nine. I’ve been up for almost four hours.”

  Jules silently filled her mug and walked to the refrigerator for some milk. She refused to feed into this remark. Really, Tess needed to find her humor. Especially if she was ever going to move on with her life.

  That being said, she seemed lighter in Jeff’s company. Like her old self. Relaxed and confident and assured and…happy. Like the way she used to be with Andrew.

  “Well, I slept wonderfully,” Jules said, taking a sip of the coffee. It was partially true. She had slept well, no doubt thanks to the late night and the fresh air. But she’d woken up reaching for her phone again, wanting to call Aaron, tell him what she’d been up to and hear his news.

  Hear his voice.

  She always had loved the sound of his voice. But she couldn’t tell him everything, could she? Not anymore. Once she would have had no trouble telling him about running into Cole. How he’d bought her a mulled wine last night and they’d reminisced about that last summer before college. Before everything changed.

  She didn’t like to look back on those days, when she was still waiting for her life to begin. But being here, with Tess and Carrie, b
eing a part of this town and all its traditions again made her remember that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. That there had been some highlights.

  “What are these for?” she asked, coming to take a seat at the kitchen island. Carrie’s and Phoebe’s voices could be heard from the back family room. Jules could hear the faint sounds of the television in the distance, interrupted every few seconds by the sound of Phoebe’s laughter.

  She smiled. Phoebe was still the same happy little girl she’d always been. And that said a lot about how Tess was managing the situation. Maybe Jules had underestimated her. Maybe Tess was fine. Maybe she was only unhappy that Jules was here.

  Maybe Tess really didn’t need her at all. But she…she needed Tess. She always had. And she still did.

  “These are for the Holiday Bake Sale tomorrow,” Tess said with a sigh. “It’s a good cause and Phoebe looks forward to it every year.”

  Something in her tone told Jules that Tess wasn’t as enthusiastic about going as her daughter was.

  “And it gets you out of the house,” Jules pointed out. And it gave Tess something to do. A purpose. The very thing that Tess had always been lecturing Jules that she needed to find.

  The thought of her lack of employment status loomed heavily, like a hard rock in the pit of her stomach. She’d never been much of a saver. She didn’t have aspirations to buy a house or have a mortgage or save for a car. So long as she was able to cover her rent and bills and have enough left over for weekend activities, then she’d been set.

  Only now she was starting to think that she needed to readjust that plan, stow some funds away, for times like this. Or for when she was old. And alone.

  She’d never thought of her future before. Not that far out, at least. But if she was choosing not to marry or have children, or at least not prioritizing it, then the reality was that she’d have no one to fall back on but herself. Other people had family, but she and her sisters were far from close, if she was being honest with herself. And Tess had a daughter. And Carrie had Lucas. Her mind went to Aaron again.