All I Want for Christmas

by Jenny Hale

  “Yes!” Sadie said, standing up with excitement. She hopped around, clapping her hands.

  “Okay! Let’s get our boots and coats and hats on then!” Leah said, jumping up behind her.

  Once they were both bundled up, Leah, David, and Sadie went outside, headed for the expanse of woods behind the house. There were so many trees to choose from.

  “How good are you with a saw?” Leah asked, as they trudged through the last bit of slushy, snowy grass before entering the woods.

  David looked at her, amusement on his face.

  “Nan always used to put a tree up after we got here,” said Leah. “We’d go out in the woods and cut one down like we are now and then spend all night decorating it.”

  Sadie stopped to consider one of the small spruces in her path but then must have decided against it, turning away and walking further into the woods.

  “I remember that from when I was here as a kid,” David said, his cheeks rosy from the icy air.

  “I think the best Christmas trees are this way,” Sadie said, leading them through the woods ahead.

  “This used to be a little clearing,” David said as they walked through an area now overgrown with trees and brush. “I remember making a fort here when I was young.”

  Leah remembered that fort. Back then, the low branches of the evergreens surrounding the clearing had made it feel as though they were encased by walls of spruce. David had pulled two logs into the center that they’d used as seats, and they’d divided rooms by making lines in the forest floor with rocks they’d found.

  Sadie stopped in front of a spruce and Leah looked down at her for approval.

  “This might be our tree,” Sadie said. It was a sweet, little evergreen, about five feet tall, its branches spaced as evenly as possible for a natural tree.

  “It looks perfect.” Leah peered under the bottom branches to view the trunk. It was manageable. “Do you think you can cut this?”

  David bent down and took a look. “I think so. You sure this is the one you want?” he asked Sadie.

  Sadie danced around. “Yes! I love it.”

  Leah held the tree steady as David dragged the saw across the base, back and forth. The cold whipped around them, and the frosty air had made her fingers go numb, but she didn’t say anything. She was glad that Sadie had put on her mittens. Pretty soon, the tree began to tip. David caught it with his free hand and finished sawing. The tree came loose from the ground, its branches rustling.

  David held it up. The width of the tree made it awkward to tote, she could tell, but he wobbled forward with it. “Are you okay dropping the saw back off in the shed?” he asked.

  “Totally fine,” she said, reaching out to take it.

  David looked over at Leah from behind the tree. “If your fingers look anything like your cheeks, you’re lying.”

  She giggled and started walking back through the yard beside Sadie until they had to part ways briefly so she could return the saw.

  When they all had gotten back to the house, Sadie was in charge of watching the tree, propped up against the wall, while Leah headed upstairs. David followed. She stopped at the door at the end of the hallway that led to the walk-up attic. When Leah opened it, the freezing air gave her a shiver, her body still not recovered from being outside. She grabbed a pair of Nan’s shoes that she had always kept just inside the door and told David to wait right there.

  The staircase was dark, so she clicked on a light switch that was mounted to a stud between columns of thick, wiry insulation. Climbing the stairs, the grit scratched beneath her shoes. The attic was full of furniture and the old boxes she’d looked through. She ran her hand along a full-length mirror that needed a good painting, wondering if it had been Nan’s next project. At the back of the room she found the Christmas boxes—all labeled. She got the big one and tugged it across the floor. It was dusty, making her nose itch.

  Gently, she wedged it between her body and the stairs, sliding it down toward David. When he came into view, he took a large step forward and grasped both sides of the box, lifting it easily.

  “I’ve got it,” he said, hauling it out into the hallway.

  Leah kicked off Nan’s shoes and shut the door, the warmth of the main house blanketing her skin. She followed David downstairs and into the living room, where he gently placed the box on the floor and opened the lid. Sadie came over and sat down next to him.

  He peered inside, lifting a small piece of paper that was tied to a bundle of lights, and his brows furrowed. “What are all these little notes?” he asked, reading the one in his hand as Sadie scooted toward him on the floor, rooting around in the box.

  Leah smiled, knowing exactly what they were. “Nan wrote notes to herself every time she packed something away so that it would be easier to decorate the next year.”

  David read the one attached to the lights. “‘This particular strand will go best on the spruce by the oak tree in the yard because that tree is so tall. The other strands of lights are shorter.’” He smiled. “Efficient.”

  “That was Nan.”

  Leah bent over Sadie and rummaged around in the box until she found the tree stand. “The note says to keep the tree under six feet or it starts to wobble.”

  “Absolutely,” he said straightening his face out to look serious.

  After pulling out the tree skirt, the lights, and a smaller box of ornaments, Leah moved the rocking chair to the other corner of the room, creating an empty space in the spot where Nan had always put the tree.

  David secured the tree in the tree stand, asking Sadie to tell him when the tree was straight. When he had it, Sadie offered a thumbs-up, and he tightened the silver screws until the tree was standing on its own. Sadie went into the kitchen and got a cup of water to put into the bottom of the stand.

  They’d left it for about an hour to dry out a bit before they put the lights on.

  Leah took a step back to look at the tree, planning where to put the lights, but as she did, she noticed the snow outside in the dusk of early evening. She clicked the wall switch nearby, illuminating the back deck. “It’s starting to really come down.” The flurries had begun to fall while they were in the woods, but they hadn’t noticed at first, the many trees providing a canopy for them.

  “It’s not supposed to accumulate, but it is nice.” David handed Sadie a mug of hot chocolate he’d made after coloring two pages in Sadie’s coloring book at her request while they’d waited for the tree to dry. He passed another mug to Leah.

  She wrapped her fingers around her mug and looked back at the tree, trying to avoid what had popped into her mind. She was really starting to like David. She pushed the thought away. Things were getting too complicated.

  David took a spool of lights out of the box and unwound it, stringing it along the floor. To check the bulbs, he plugged it in, and the whole floor lit up in white sparkles. Sadie gasped, the lights reflecting in her eyes.

  “They work,” he said with a smile, sitting down on the floor next to the box, by the coffee table.

  Leah set down her mug, picked up the end of the lights, and began to wind them in and out of the branches and down the tree until it was covered, Sadie standing on the other side, reaching up on her tiptoes to get them as high as she could. As she wound them around the tree, it was starting to look just like the ones Nan had done over the years. She felt the emotion rising up again as she remembered the times they’d sat around a tree just like this one and opened presents, Nan smiling from the nearby chair. When they unwrapped their presents, Nan would listen, ask questions, nod and smile.

  “Would you hand me the tree skirt, please?” she asked, swallowing her emotion back down.

  David pulled a plastic bag from the box and removed the folded deep red velvet tree skirt. Another note floated to the ground. Leah walked over and picked it up.

  The skirt is fraying on the edge. Don’t forget to sew it.

  The hair on Leah’s arms stood up. David was fiddling with the
ragged edge of the skirt, the dark red fabric draped across his lap. It was as if her grandmother were right there talking to them. Her presence was everywhere. “I’ll need to sew that,” she said, eyeing the fray and raising the note in the air.

  “I think Nan’s sewing kit is in that cabinet at the other end of the sofa. She always liked to sit there when she mended things,” Sadie said, skipping over to the cabinet. She and Nan had spent many days sewing in this room.

  Sure enough, it was there—a box, padded in a flowery print with a handle and shiny silver closure. Leah sat down on the floor and opened it. It was full of brightly colored ribbon, spools of thread in every shade, and two pincushions—one with needles and the other with pushpins. She pulled a needle out and grabbed the spool of thread that was closest to the cranberry color she needed.

  “I’m glad you know how to sew,” David said as he walked over and sat down beside her, handing Leah the tree skirt. “We could’ve probably just hidden this part at the back of the tree.”

  “Nan wrote herself a note because she wanted it fixed. It would bug me if I put it under there without taking care of this seam.” She pulled the thread through and looped it around.

  It only took a few stitches. “There,” she said. “All done.” She returned the sewing kit and carefully put the tree skirt in place, fastening it at the back.

  “Your grandmother wrote where she places each ornament?” David said, holding another piece of paper in his hand, the bag of ornaments in his lap. “What if she changed her mind?”

  “I suppose she wouldn’t have.”

  Sadie offered a look of agreement from across the room. She twirled and then did a little leap in the large open space between the fireplace and the coffee table.

  David went back over to the box. “So, here’s the big question: Will Leah Evans choose her own locations for the ornaments or will she adhere to tradition? This says a lot about you. Choose carefully,” David said with a grin that reached his eyes.

  Leah rolled her eyes at him playfully. “Why don’t I place the ornaments the way I’d like them and then we can see how near I was to Nan’s suggestions? I’m willing to guess I’ll have it pretty close.”

  David dangled an ornament between his fingers. It was a silver angel with crystal wings. “Ornament Number One,” he said, peeking at Nan’s paper and then hiding the writing from Leah as she came closer to take the ornament from him.

  She studied it. “Nan taught me that ornaments go from smallest at the top to largest at the bottom. This one is pretty small. I’m guessing… here.” She hung the ornament at the top of the tree.

  “Would you say that is ‘top center’ or ‘upper middle’?” He leaned against the sofa.

  “Top center.” She looked over at Sadie for agreement.

  She was doing a handstand, her toes perfectly pointed, her legs straight as arrows. “Top center!” she said from upside down.

  “Correct!”

  “Ha! Give me another one!”

  “Sadie, you’re really good at that,” he said, his attention pulled away for a second. Sadie’s handstand was flawlessly still, her arms strong, her body completely in line.

  “Thank you,” she said, bringing one leg down until her foot was on the floor. She righted herself. “I love gymnastics.”

  “Show me what else you can do,” he said.

  “Okay!” Sadie said, her little eyebrows rising in excitement. There was plenty of room, the center of the sitting room floor left open except for an enormous area rug and a small coffee table near the settee.

  Gracefully, she raised her hands above her head and tilted backward, leaning slowly, her back arching until her hands found the floor. Even in her jeans, she was so limber that they didn’t obstruct her movements. She kicked her leg, the other following and flipped over, landing in an upright position. Her feet still moving, she slid down into the splits. Sadie raised her hands again as if to signal the end of her routine.

  “Wow, that’s great,” David said, clearly impressed. “You have a lot of talent, Miss Sadie.”

  “Thank you!”

  “I take her every year to see a big gymnastics competition in town here.”

  “Mama! We’re going this year, right? David should go with us!”

  “Well, if he wants to,” she said, unsure.

  He was looking at her, happiness in his eyes, a small smile playing at his lips. “I’d love to.” He had his arm propped along the sofa, his legs crossed, and for an instant, she wished she could cuddle up against his sweater and feel his arms around her.

  “Yay!” Sadie danced around and then did a cartwheel. “Now, back to the ornament game!”

  David smiled wider at Leah, clearly amused by Sadie. He held out five glass candy canes. “Put these on the tree where you think they go, and I’ll get us something else to drink,” he said, standing up. More hot chocolate, Sadie?”

  Sadie nodded.

  “How about you?” He turned to Leah. “Hot chocolate, or should I open a bottle of wine?”

  She studied the ornaments as she took them from his hand. The glass candy canes made a tinkling sound, dangling from her fingers. There was something about the atmosphere that made her want to celebrate. She was decorating Nan’s tree, giving life to the house, and putting Nan’s stamp back on things. “I think we should have wine since we’re decorating the tree. Nan would be so thrilled to know that we’re carrying on the tradition another year.”

  “Wine it is then. Make sure you get those candy canes in the right place,” he said with a wink, and held up the paper. “I’m taking this with me.”

  * * *

  Leah had put Sadie to bed and now she and David were settled on the settee in front of the fire, both of them completely relaxed under Nan’s quilt, the empty glasses and bottle of wine on the coffee table, the tree sparkling in the corner. When she’d first arrived, her grief had overwhelmed her, but now, the more she relaxed in Nan’s space, the closer she felt to her, and the more at peace she was.

  “Do you remember how we used to do everything together?” David asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You always wanted to do things your way,” he teased.

  “And you let me.” She smiled up at him, noticing again how attractive he was—the square of his chin, the way his smile reached his eyes. He grinned back at her. She’d enjoyed him so much tonight and it was starting to confuse her more as the night went on.

  “Sadie seems to have your independence. Is she a lot like you?” he asked.

  “Sometimes. She loved Nan like I did. But she’s different in many ways.”

  “And her father? Is she like him?”

  It was just a question but it sent a wave of hurt through her. So far, Sadie had asked simple questions that Leah had been able to answer, but she was waiting for the big one: Why did my daddy leave? “She’s like her father in that she worries about things a lot. He was like that.”

  “Was?”

  “He left when he found out I was pregnant. He said he wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment.” She let out an indignant huff. “At the time, I’d told him it wasn’t a choice—the commitment. But, from his seven-year absence, I suppose I was wrong. Apparently, for him, it was a choice.”

  David took in a breath and let his gaze fall onto the quilt that covered them. “I can’t imagine doing that.”

  “Leaving your unborn child?”

  He looked back at her. “Well, yes, but he also left you. He was leaving the both of you.” Leah tried not to hear what he was really saying.

  “Well, I can manage on my own.”

  “I’m sure you can. But wouldn’t it be nice to have someone there to go through it all with you?”

  “Nan was there. And my parents helped when they could.”

  “That’s how my mother was for me, growing up. She was my rock. It was just the two of us, like you and Sadie, and I could always tell her anything.”

  She realized just then that sh
e and David were talking as freely as if they’d never separated. It had taken Leah years to know Louise enough to feel comfortable telling her things like this. It was slightly worrying to her how easy it was and she wondered if she was getting too close to him. She didn’t want to put anyone in Sadie’s life who might not stay, and she knew she couldn’t let herself fall for the man who was taking Evergreen Hill from her. Maybe he was doing it nicely, but it didn’t change the fact that he was. And wouldn’t he wonder if she was interested in him because of the house? It couldn’t work, and so she had to stop dipping her toes in the water. With Sadie, safe bets were the only bets she’d consider.

  Chapter 14

  Leah rolled over and blinked to view the clock. She squinted to see the time, the crystal analog face the size of a quarter. It was the only thing on the little yellow table except for a lamp with a simple white base and a blue shade to coordinate with the room.

  It was early, the sun still tucked away behind the horizon. Gently, so as not to disturb Sadie, Leah sat up and padded across the hardwoods and into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She got herself ready enough to go downstairs, pulling her hair up into a loose ponytail, washing her face and brushing her teeth. Then she went to make some coffee.

  “Good morning,” David said in a hushed voice. He was sitting at the table, his computer to the side. He had on jeans and a T-shirt, his hair slightly messy, and stubble on his face. “I’ve made coffee.” He got up and went to the counter, his eyes still on her.

  “Oh great. Thank you. I was coming down for that,” Leah said. When he turned away from her, she straightened her top and tucked it into her pajama bottoms in an attempt to look less frumpy. Then realizing what she’d done, she pulled her shirt back out. She wasn’t going to allow herself to worry about how she looked. But as she watched David at the counter, noticing the muscles in his back through his T-shirt as he got coffee mugs from the top cabinet, she tucked it back in again. Little Davey was all grown up… “I’m glad I’m not the only one awake at this hour.”