His Christmas Angel: A Sweet YA Holiday Romance (Christmas Snow)

by Kylie Key

  “Merry Christmas,” she said, her voice quieter than her sister’s. I looked from one to the another, trying to discern a difference.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Karolina and Annalise. I love your names.”

  “Angelina is kind of like Annalise,” Annalise said.

  “It is!”

  “I love your headband,” Annalise said, “and your earrings. You’re pretty.”

  I was momentarily taken aback, a rush of heat flooding my cheeks. Pretty wasn’t a description I was expecting. Not when I knew my face was gaunt and my eyes heavy. “Thank you,” I murmured, my peripheral vision telling me that Chase was watching me intently. I needed the focus off of me. “You two are gorgeous, but how do I tell you apart?”

  “Annalise is the loud one,” Chase said, and she gasped and scowled, pouting her lower lip at him.

  Laughing, I nudged him in the ribs, making our hands unclasp. I wanted it back straight away.

  “Just kidding,” Chase said, pulling Annalise onto his knee and affectionately nuzzling into her neck. “Annalise is the stinky one!”

  “I am not!” She jumped up and poked him in the chest. “You are!” She screwed up her nose and said, “You smell like...like...”

  “Like Christmas trees.” Karolina smiled and squeezed herself into the tiny space between Chase and me, whispering into my ear, “He does, doesn’t he?”

  I smiled and nodded. Yes, Chase’s cologne was reminiscent of home, the subtle scent of Fraser fir trees.

  “You smell nice too,” Karolina said, leaning closer to me. I was now thankful May had spritzed me with her signature vanilla fragrance earlier; I hadn’t brought any cosmetics from home.

  Karolina rested her little head on my chest, making me instantly homesick for my family. I would do anything for a cuddle from my brothers right now. I snuggled my arm around her, like I would do with Noah, my youngest brother.

  “You all right there?” Chase asked, his eyebrows raising as Karolina nestled into me.

  I nodded. “I think we have one tired little elf,” I said.

  “They were up earlier than me so I guess they’re about ready to crash,” he said.

  “Not me!” Annalise’s head bobbed up and she held out the silver parcel. “This is for you, Angelina.”

  Chase’s mother offered to take Karolina off of me, but the little girl shook her head and clung to me tighter. Annalise helped me open the gifts from Santa—a sequinned journal, bath bombs, and a blooming scarlet poinsettia plant.

  Mrs Borelli handed me an envelope. “This goes with the plant, from our artist in residence,” she said, gesturing to Chase.

  Confused, I hesitantly pulled the card out. An angel with pink wings was on the front, surrounded by a colorful array of flowers. I blinked several times, the drawing was beautiful. Inside was written:

  To Our Angel,

  Merry Christmas and Best Wishes,

  Love from your Snow Ridge Hospital Family.

  “Mrs Borelli told me what to write,” Chase said quickly, like he was embarrassed. “I had no idea you were Angel when I did it.”

  “Oh,” I said, my heart sinking that it hadn’t been written especially for me.

  His hand tapped my shoulder and he leaned closer. “I would have drawn more hearts if I’d known,” he whispered, causing me to color as deeply as the poinsettia beside me.

  “She looks like—our angel,” Annalise bounced up and pointed towards the top of the Christmas tree. That ornament hadn’t been there yesterday, a golden angel with pink wings. She looked extremely similar to one we sold at the Farm Shop.

  “Yep,” he said.

  “Where did she come from?” I asked. “She looks like one from our farm.”

  “We got her from the Christmas Tree Farm,” Annalise said.

  “Smith’s?”

  She shrugged, but his mother re-emerged. “Yes, Smith’s. Out near Worsford.”

  “That’s my family’s farm,” I said, my voice shaking for some stupid reason.

  Chase’s mother’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Oh, it’s the most wonderful place. It was the first time for us to go there. Your family owns it, Angelina?”

  “Yes.”

  Her brow quickly furrowed. “Worsford was hit by a blizzard overnight,” she said. “Is your family safe?”

  I nodded, choked up at the reminder that my family wasn’t coming to see me. “Yes, they’re fine,” I meant to say, but my lower lip trembled and I spluttered out an undignified, “Yes, but they’re snowed in.” Without warning, tears stung at my eyes and blinking rapidly did nothing to stop them.

  “Hey,” Chase soothed, his arm going around the back of the couch.

  “Oh sweetie,” his mother cooed, producing a tissue. “Chase, why don’t you take Karolina?”

  “No, she’s fine,” I said, forcing my mouth into a smile, “she’s nice and warm.” I dabbed at my eyes as best I could, trying not to disturb sleeping Karolina.

  “Let me know if she gets too heavy,” Chase said. His hand hovered for a moment, then rested on my shoulder. I spontaneously leaned into him, an instant feeling of home.

  May brought a blanket to cover Karolina and Annalise affectionately kissed her sister’s cheek, handing me the angel that she’d made her father take from the top of the tree.

  “She’ll look after you today,” she said. “Don’t be sad on Christmas Day.”

  My mouth twitched, and I wanted to thank her but my throat tightened and no words came. All I could do was try to form a smile and nod.

  I don’t think I was very successful.

  Annalise tapped Chase’s knee. “Oooh, what about—” She leaned forward and whispered into Chase’s ear, then scooted away, returning seconds later with a gift bag. Rummaging through it, she pulled out some bracelets.

  “Chase made this one for you,” she said, holding up a pink bracelet, “and this one.” She shook the second one, jingling a bell. “They’re friendship bracelets.”

  “You made these?” I asked with a teasing smile.

  “Yes.” He pouted and mocked offense.

  “Karolina and me taught him!” Annalise squealed, making Karolina flinch. Chase shushed her with a finger to his lips, then lifted my wrist gently and tied it on, next to my hospital bracelet. He struggled with the first clasp, I didn’t care. I liked his fingers lingering. It sent a rush through me, a tingling sensation to the roof of my mouth, an exhilaration that planted a silly smile on my face. He struggled with the second one too, but I had a feeling from his own smile that it was somewhat deliberate.

  Chase called over to Jordan, the boy with the broken leg, and Annalise went over to him, then she and Santa went around the other children delivering bracelets. There were enough for the nurses too.

  “So, is that how you spent your Christmas morning? Making bracelets?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he said with a laugh. “It was a bit like Santa’s workshop. I made two bracelets, and they made 102!” He took my hand again, his fingers caressing along the inside of my wrist. Again, my senses went into hyperdrive and I couldn’t conceal my sigh of contentment. Now I knew why Mollie our cat purred when you stroked her.

  The distribution of gifts continued, and a group of volunteers came and sang Christmas carols.

  “Are you all good?” Chase whispered, his hand firmly embracing mine beneath the blanket.

  I nodded and whispered back, “Yep.”

  “If you need anything, just ask.”

  “I will.”

  “And if you need to fall asleep, you can,” he said.

  I smiled. There was too much energy and adrenaline flowing for me to sleep, even though my body was exhausted. The buzz of Christmas Day was intensified by the thrill of being next to Chase. My family couldn’t be with me but I was in a room filled with people who cared, who had willingly given up their time to brighten Christmas for all of us who had the misfortune to be here.

  Yes, they say with adversity comes strength.

 
That was something leukemia had taught me.

  But today I was finding that disappointment and sadness could be overcome by kindness and love...

  But you have to open your heart and let it in.

  And you can’t be greedy and keep it all for yourself...

  you have to return it,

  you have to give back.

  Chapter 10

  Chase

  WE CHATTED ABOUT HER family’s farm and she told me about the different types of trees and how long they took to grow. From my description of our tree she figured Mom had bought a Scotch Pine. I realized how dumb I was, how little I knew about anything. This girl spent hours helping out with the family business—she tended to trees, ordered the decorations, worked in the shop. She amazed me.

  Because she did it all while fighting leukemia.

  She said she’d been diagnosed back in May, been through two months of intense chemo after which she’d gone into remission, and was now on a six weekly course where she would spend three or four days in the hospital. It would be ongoing, several years at least. There was no end date.

  That shook me. That there was no guaranteed outcome to this disease. It wasn’t like a broken leg which would eventually heal. Leukemia had its own rules, it’s own agenda.

  But Angelina was thankful at present, and hopeful. Her fingers were crossed that she would remain in remission.

  Her humility, her fight and her optimism were inspiring. She made me seem pathetically shallow. Friends, snowboarding, parties, girls were all I focused on. I was a teenager, life was fun and games, that’s how it was supposed to be.

  Except that it wasn’t, not for everyone. Some kids didn’t have the luxury of just being a teen. And some kids didn’t even make it to their teenage years, like little Austin. The unfairness of life was real.

  But only now I saw it staring me in the face.

  She apologized before she fell asleep. She said it was the treatment and promised me I wasn’t boring. I smiled wryly—she was too kind for words.

  The lounge emptied as children and their families went back to their rooms, Angelina not the only one who had fallen asleep. Dad carefully lifted Karolina off of Angelina, but I delayed getting up, selfishly spellbound by the sleeping beauty beside me. I should have gotten up and stretched out her legs so she was more comfortable, but there was a reluctance to leave her side.

  It’s like my conscience had decided to rear its head again: what a frivolous life I led, days with my friends on the slopes, nights partying in the mountain cabin, such a privileged existence. In the past couple of years I had definitely veered towards spending more time with Toby and his family. Since they bought their cabin, invitations to stay had been frequent, and not only me, all of our friend group was welcome. Beau often couldn’t make it because he had a part time job at the gas station, but the rest of us had no such commitments. Even in summer it was a great place to hang out, hiking, mountain biking, and jacuzzi parties. And with Dad being good friends with Toby’s father, Mom and Dad never minded.

  Maybe they were pleased to get me out of their hair. I knew I wasn’t the most obliging son. Like many typical teens I considered my parents the enemy. Not sure why really. Isn’t that what kids did—argued with their parents? I mean, I could never understand why they got so stressed over the most minor stuff, like unmade beds and clothes on the floor. I mean, really? Like, you mess up your bed every night—what difference does it make if you pull it up each morning? It’s going to get messed up again. I didn’t know why my mother constantly made a big deal about it.

  And homework. And study. And emptying the dishwasher, or putting out the trash. Parents could get so worked up over those things. Could you blame me for wanting to spend the weekends away from them?

  So, that had been my way of thinking. And I had rarely helped out or interacted with my sisters, though I’m not kidding when I tell you they had a busy schedule with ballet lessons, ice skating, gymnastics and whatever else it is that seven year olds did.

  But watching my family effortlessly blend in here, Dad playing Santa’s helper, Mom and Nene keen to help in any capacity, and my sisters enthusiastic to be involved, I could see I’d created an unnecessary distance between us.

  I’d sulked about my grounding and punishment and laughed about the firebomb prank, yet it dawned on me that it had been irresponsible, juvenile, and dangerous. Ronan could have been seriously injured, property damaged, and I’d had a cavalier attitude to the whole thing. Had been proud of myself, even.

  Yeah, while I was living a carefree, happy-go-lucky existence, Angelina was fighting for her life on a daily basis.

  That was mind-blowing.

  I needed to step up.

  I needed to grow up.

  I needed to make a change.

  SANTA AND THE VOLUNTEERS left, and Dad carried Karolina out to the car. I didn’t want to leave Angelina, but May said she would likely sleep for several hours due to her treatment earlier. See, that was another thing to shock me—Angelina had had chemo on Christmas Day, and she would continue with it in the form of pills when she left to go home the next day.

  There was a feeling of uselessness, of inadequacy as I followed my family out. I joined in the games at my uncle’s house and feasted on the incredible spread of food, but somehow I couldn’t get my head into it. Something about the day didn’t feel quite right. And I was relieved when Annalise had a little tantrum about her candy cane breaking in two. She was overtired, and Mom declared that it had been a long day and it was time to go home. Karolina had gotten a second wind after her nap but she was fading again.

  In the meantime I was wide awake and pumped. Angelina had to have woken by now. She’d be on her own, probably watching an old Christmas movie. She shouldn’t have to be alone, not on Christmas Day.

  “Mom,” I said, being extra helpful by unpacking a load of food in the kitchen, “Do you think I could go back to the hospital? Just to check on a couple of the kids?” Mom’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, Angelina,” I admitted, making sure my face was hidden in the fridge.

  “It’s getting late,” she said.

  “They allow visitors till eight,” I said. “I just hate that she’s on her own.”

  “You’re quite smitten by this girl,” Mom said.

  “She shouldn’t be alone on Christmas,” I said.

  “No, she shouldn’t. It’s gotta be tough not seeing her family today,” Mom said.

  “I won’t stay long. And it’s not breaking my grounding. I am allowed to the hospital.”

  Mom’s smile was wry, and she conceded with a sigh. “Let me pack some food for you to take. We’ve got food for weeks.”

  Nurse Esther was on the reception desk when I arrived. I softened her up with a plate of cookies and the full Chase Masters smile.

  “Hey, thought I’d just pop in and check on Jordan and Angelina,” I said.

  “It is getting late,” she said.

  “I won’t be long. Just have to deliver these.” I held up some baskets of sweet treats and was relieved when her phone rang. I stopped by Jordan’s room first. His parents were sitting with him, so I chatted for a few minutes, making it seem I was busy with volunteer duty. I left them a basket and said I’d see him again.

  “I might be going home tomorrow,” he said.

  “That’s great news,” I said, high fiving him, “but I’ll still see you. I’ll be in early.”

  “Thanks Chase,” he said, shaking the friendship bracelets on his wrist.

  I waved goodbye and hurried down the corridor. The anticipation of seeing Angelina had elevated my heart rate and sent butterflies roaring through my stomach at top speed. Her door was closed, and peering through the glass window only gave me a reflection of the opposite wall. I knocked loudly. Once, then twice. Knowing time was limited, I tapped as I opened the door, calling Angelina’s name softly.

  A gagging noise came from bathroom. I hesitated, debating whether I should call for the nurse or bur
st in on her. Another sound of retching made my heart wrench—and I knew Angelina shouldn’t be on her own at a time like this.

  Through the half open door I could see her kneeling in front of the toilet bowl. I rushed to her side, not stopping to think that I had no idea of how to help.

  “Angelina? Are you okay?” Duh...obviously she wasn’t.

  Her body lurched as she leaned forward, a strangulated sound emitting from her throat, unsettling my own stomach—the churning no longer butterflies but Christmas turkey and ham. Sucking up my discomfort, I reached over to rub her back. I think that’s what Mom used to do when I was sick.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You’ll be okay,” I said with no conviction whatsoever. I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t know how leukemia worked.

  She huffed out a small chuckle. “Cool,” she said dryly. But then she looked up, rolling her eyes at me, and smiled. “Shouldn’t you be holding my hair back, or something?”

  I laughed, but didn’t need a second invitation. I pulled back her ponytail, which wasn’t really in the way, and then stroked the top of her head.

  “Do you need water?”

  She shook her head, watery eyes averting back to the bowl. She breathed deeply, and I continued to weave my fingers through her hair, telling her about Annalise’s meltdown during the family game of charades, and the team quiz that ended up with Dad and Uncle John arguing about the tiebreaker question.

  I wanted to think it was my soothing touch that made her recover, and I wanted to gather her up in my arms and carry her to the bed, but I was probably getting ahead of myself, and she proved she was perfectly capable of standing on her own. I let her have a moment to fix herself.

  She seemed brighter when she emerged, a sparkle in her eye, her skin glowing. I wanted it to be because of me, but I’d heard her rinsing her mouth and splashing her face.

  “Feeling better?” I asked.

  She nodded, hopping up on the bed, but slowly, swinging one leg up at a time. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. “But I didn’t really do much.”