A Lowcountry Christmas

by Mary Alice Monroe

  This was my home now, too. Even after six months of marriage I had to remind myself of this. I made my way through the gracious living room to the front door. Thor was already there, prancing in excitement. Swinging open the door I saw the faces of my family clustered on the front porch—Daddy, Mama, and Miller. Miller’s dog, Sandy, stood by his side, straining at the leash, almost as large as Thor. I laughed when I saw the dog was wearing a Christmas-themed bow tie.

  “Merry Christmas!” I called out, and opened wide the door, ushering them in. The front door wore a wreath of holly and the night air was relatively balmy. Thor and Sandy immediately pounced on each other, old friends, and greeted each other with a hearty bout of sniffing.

  One by one my family passed me, each delivering the requisite hug and kiss. Each was bundled down with gifts. Mama entered in a beautiful red sweater twinkling with festive sequins. There were a few more silver strands in her hair but she was as beautiful as ever. She was carrying a large bouquet of flowers for Harper. When she leaned in close to kiss me I closed my eyes and inhaled her unique scent.

  Daddy strode in behind her in his best tweed jacket. He was a bit broader in the beam these days, more gray in his hair, his big arms filled with gifts. “Hey, Son,” he said in a booming voice, filled with joy. “Merry Christmas!” His eyes searched over my shoulder. “Where’s that baby?”

  “Merry Christmas, Dad,” I said, slapping his back. “Go on in. Harper’s waiting.”

  Miller came in last. At fifteen he’d changed the most. He was already as tall as me but hadn’t yet filled out. He was lean and lanky in his green sweater over a checked shirt and tan trousers. And he was a looker. His brown hair had Mama’s waves and his blue eyes shone under long lashes.

  “I got you something,” Miller told me, and handed me a small package clumsily wrapped in red paper with lots of tape. “I wanted to give it to you without everyone being around.” He looked up to check that the family had gathered in the living room. “It’s not very good. I mean.” He laughed with embarrassment. “I made it myself. It’s from the tree we brought home that night years ago. You know, the night you saved me.” His face colored. “Well . . . you’ll see. Merry Christmas.”

  I took the package and looked at him quizzically. “Should I open it now?”

  “No,” he replied quickly, and shook his head. “Just when you’re alone.”

  With that he grinned sheepishly and walked into the room, calling Sandy and Thor to his side with a few claps of his hands.

  I paused at the door and watched my family greet one another with heartfelt kisses and echoes of “Merry Christmas.” Taking this quiet moment I slipped away down the hall and out of sight. I tore open the red paper of Miller’s gift. Inside lay several wood discs sliced from the bottom of a small tree. On each disc was handpainted a white snowflake. He’d drilled a hole at the top of each for the red, white, and green ribbons. There were four of them, and on the back he’d written the names of my family: Taylor, Harper, Marietta, Thor.

  I felt humbled by the thoughtfulness of my brother’s gift. These discs were made from the spindly Christmas tree that he had cut down that fateful Christmas he’d gotten lost in the woods. What had he said? “The night you saved me.”

  Oh, Miller, I thought to myself as I looked down at the wood ornaments. That was the night you saved me.

  I followed the sounds of cheerful conversation and clinking glasses to the foyer, then paused before entering the living room. I wanted to savor the moment. The fire crackled in the hearth, stockings hung over the mantel, carols played, and in the corner stood our robust Christmas tree. It was Harper’s and my first Christmas tree together as husband and wife. Our baby, Marietta’s, first as well. We didn’t have many ornaments yet. Harper had hung several white sand dollars with red ribbon and there were several palmetto frond flowers, treasures that had been handmade by Lucille, a longtime friend of the family. It seemed as if the whole house was encased in fairy lights. I thought to myself, This was a classic Christmas scene. It could be a painting. Or the last scene in a movie. Maybe it was only because I saw the scene through the veil of sentiment. No matter. I would remember the scene forever.

  With an urge to be part of it all, I strode into the room and walked directly to the tree. There I began to hang the four wooden ornaments on selected bare spots of the leafy branches. One by one the family gathered around the tree to look at them. One by one, they exclaimed how wonderful the ornaments were.

  “What a clever idea!”

  “Did you make them yourself, Miller?”

  “I’ll never forget that tree.”

  Caught in the moment we began exchanging ornaments. This was a new holiday tradition. Ever since that homecoming Christmas five years earlier we McClellans came together on Christmas Eve to exchange ornaments and decorate the tree that my father and Miller had cut down together. This was the first Christmas I could welcome my family to my home to decorate the Christmas tree I had felled.

  The tree had become our unspoken symbol of that important Christmas when we had all dug deep and fought for one another—for our survival. For our family. For our happiness. And in the process, discovering the true meaning of Christmas.

  Mother received four wooden ornaments from Miller just like the ones I’d received, only hers bore the names: Jenny, Alistair, Miller, and Sandy. Mama and Dad gave us a crystal picture frame that held a photo of Marietta and the words Baby’s First Christmas. Mamaw presented us with a handblown glass dolphin.

  I turned from the tree to watch my father settle on the sofa with the baby in his arms. He bent over her, cooing, utterly besotted. Harper hovered nearby, beaming.

  “Look at her hands!” Daddy exclaimed, looking up. “A fisherman’s hands, I tell you.”

  “Fisherwoman, you mean,” Mama corrected him. She beamed and said to Mamaw, “I finally got my girl!”

  Mamaw agreed with a conspiratorial smile. “I’m so fortunate to have my three.”

  “Girl or boy, I’ll have a fishing rod for her by the time she can walk,” Daddy announced.

  Mama turned to me and smiled a bit possessively as her gaze captured my face. “You look quite handsome.” She patted my gray cashmere jacket over my red-checkered shirt.

  “Harper gets all the credit,” I replied. “Except for the tie.” I lowered my chin to look at the green silk tie emblazoned with Christmas trees. “You gave me the tie last Christmas. Don’t you remember?”

  Mama laughed. “I did, didn’t I?” Then her gaze swept the room, a quiet smile of deep contentment on her face. “Oh, Taylor,” she said with a sigh. “This was my Christmas wish for you five years ago. All this . . .” She turned her gaze to meet mine. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I looked at her for a long moment. We knew each other so well.

  “No headaches?”

  “No. All good.”

  “That, I suspect, is all Harper, too.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short.” I bent to kiss her cheek. Again, I caught her scent at her throat and it carried me back through a lifetime of Christmas memories. “Thanks, Mama. For always making Christmas special for us.”

  My words struck true and she appeared deeply moved. “That’s a mother’s job.”

  “Speaking of a mother’s job.” I looked over my shoulder. “You should rescue Marietta from Daddy. I think she’s had enough fishing lessons for a three-month-old.”

  “I’m on my way,” she whispered. Walking across the room, Mama said loudly, “It’s my turn to hold the baby!”

  With everyone engaged, I went to the tree where dozens of gaily decorated presents reached the bottom limbs to pull out a small package. Then I crossed the room to where Miller sat on the floor with Sandy and Thor on either side.

  “Quid pro quo.” I held out a small package wrapped in green with a white bow. “For you.”

  Miller looked up from the dogs to take the package. He hefted it up, checking its weight, then said with a teasing frown, “Feels
like a book.”

  I laughed. “Open it.”

  Harper glided across the room in her long emerald green silk dress that made her red hair shine in contrast. She was carrying a tray filled with champagne flutes. The consummate hostess, she leaned in close to my ear, discreet.

  “We aren’t opening presents yet,” she admonished quietly. “My sisters haven’t arrived.”

  “I know. This is personal.” I kissed her nose, then turned to watch Miller. I wanted to catch his reaction.

  Miller opened the wrapping and found that it was, indeed, a book. He turned it in his hand to view the cover. Then his face eased into a knowing grin of pleasure.

  “A Christmas Carol,” he announced. “Excellent.”

  “No ‘bah, humbug’?” I asked.

  Miller shook his head. “Like you said. It’s a classic.” Then he slanted a gaze my way and added wryly, “And we’ll always have Marley’s Ghost.”

  I guffawed at our inside joke.

  “Am I missing something?” Harper asked.

  “It’s a long story,” I told her. “With a happy ending.”

  The doorbell rang again and this time two dogs leaped to their feet and ran for the door. Sandy was barking up a storm. Marietta startled once more but she quickly settled with my mother’s rocking and cooing.

  “Thor!” I called out. Immediately Thor came to my side and, chastened, sat quietly. Miller’s dog, however, was raising a raucous. Miller hurried after his dog to stop the cacophony of barking.

  “Your dog could use a few lessons,” I teased him as he ran past.

  “Where’s Clarissa when we need her?” he called back.

  Mamaw stood at the front window, a vision of pale blue silk and cashmere. A long strand of pearls draped her chest. She pushed back the drapes and looked out. “Why, it’s the girls!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Oh, this is a party now!” she said to her companion, Girard, who stood by her side, looking elegant in his vintage smoking jacket. She took his hand and together they hurried to greet the family at the door.

  The sound of high-pitched voices floated in from the front door, punctuated by heavy male laughter.

  “I hope we’re not too late!”

  “We had champagne at Dora and Devlin’s on the way. They’re right behind us.”

  More voices rose up. More welcomes.

  Mamaw’s voice rang out in her delicate drawl, “Come in! We’re waiting for you. The bubbly is all poured!”

  Nate bolted into the room, heading straight for the presents under the Christmas tree.

  The rest of the Muir family entered as a wave of glittering color and smiles—Blake and Carson, Dora and Devlin, Atticus and Vivian. Harper passed out flutes of champagne to all but Carson, who didn’t drink alcohol, and Dora, who, pregnant, settled for bubble water under Devlin’s watchful eye. Now that everyone in the family was here, Christmas had begun in earnest.

  I went to the coffee table and picked up my dog-eared copy of A Christmas Carol. I’d purchased it five years earlier when helping Miller with his book report. I’d read A Christmas Carol many times over after that pivotal Christmas. The more times I read Dickens’s prose, the more I understood and took heart at his underlying message: We all had the chance to redeem ourselves, no matter how much of a Scrooge we may be.

  I’d journeyed so far from that Christmas five years ago, when I’d returned home a broken man with PTSD. I’d learned to accept my past, embrace my present, and I held bright hope for the future. Most of all, I was not alone. I had Harper, Marietta, and Thor at my side. I’d been transformed. Dickens never wrote truer words when he had Scrooge exclaim, “I shall live in the past, the present, and the future!”

  All were gathered in the living room, drinks in hand. I stepped forward and raised my glass. The family quieted, eyes on me filled with expectation. Then, with a wink in Miller’s direction, I made a toast inspired by the book that had helped carry me from my dark days to the happy, grateful son, brother, husband, and father I was today.

  “God bless us, every one!”

  Want even more heart-warming stories from New York Times bestselling author Mary Alice Monroe? Don't miss her Lowcountry Summer series, available now!

  After spending an unfulfilling time in California, Carson Muir is the first of her sisters to return to Sullivan's Island, South Carolina, to spend a summer with her two half-sisters and grandmother and perhaps finally face what is responsible for her constant aimlessness.

  The Summer Girls

  * * *

  Eudora has struggled with playing the part of perfect wife and mother in her marriage for years, and when her husband finally files divorce after her child is diagnosed with autism, she must remember the love and support of her sisters and grandmother in the second installment in the Lowcountry Summer series.

  The Summer Wind

  * * *

  Harper never intended to stay at Sea Breeze for more than a weekend, but after a falling out with her mother and a blossoming love with ex-Marine Taylor McClellan, she discovers that she must learn to recognize her newfound strengths and life as the Lowcountry Summer comes to an end.

  The Summer's End

  * * *

  ORDER YOUR COPIES TODAY!

  Recipes

  The holidays are a time for families to gather together to share stories, gifts, laughter, and love. It’s also a time to feast! Each culture has unique, traditional foods celebrated at the holidays. Likewise in the lowcountry—that very special geographic region along South Carolina’s coast that I call home. Here we delight in a bounty of foods born from our local agriculture and marine life. Think shrimp, barbeque, sweet tea, pecans, rice, and you’re just getting started.

  The queen of Southern cooking is Nathalie Dupree. South Carolinian Nathalie Dupree is the celebrated, bestselling author with more than three hundred television appearances for the Food Network, PBS, and the Learning Channel. I am a lucky woman to also call Nathalie my friend. Of course I turned to her when I was searching for holiday recipes to include in A Lowcountry Christmas! Nathalie promptly responded with the recipes included here. All recipes can be found in the James Beard Award–winning cookbook that is a must-have for any Southern cook: Mastering the Art of Southern Cooking.

  Nathalie prepared the Chocolate Snowball recipe for a private luncheon. It’s been my Christmas dinner dessert ever since. Every recipe is delicious and a perfect choice for your holiday table.

  My favorite distillery is, of course, Firefly Distillery! They created the delicious signature cocktail for A Lowcountry Wedding. For A Lowcountry Christmas, Firefly again created a signature cocktail. Be sure to include it for your parties!

  Cheers!

  Mary Alice Monroe

  Pickled Shrimp, or “Swimpee”

  Makes 2 pounds

  I couldn’t resist using the name of this recipe from Charleston Receipts. It got this name from the vendors who early on walked the streets of Charleston calling out “swimpee” to sell their wares. The recipe, however, is my own. This recipe doubles easily.

  2 pounds shrimp, cooked and peeled

  3 large sweet onions, sliced

  3/4 cup olive oil

  1 cup sherry vinegar

  Salt

  Freshly ground black pepper

  Fresh herbs to taste, such as lemon thyme or lemon balm

  Lemon slices, optional

  Starting with the shrimp, layer shrimp and onions in a large glass bowl.

  Mix oil and vinegar, and season to taste with salt and pepper and herbs. Pour this mixture over the shrimp and onions, and cover tightly. Refrigerate overnight or up to two days.

  Herbed Shrimp and Scallop Ceviche

  Serves 8

  Cool shrimp and scallops are enticing in a glass bowl at a buffet. They can also be served with toothpicks for nibbles or on plates as a first course for a sit-down meal.

  We know ceviche was served by Martha Washington in early colonial days (spelled caveach), most
likely wending its way here from the Spaniards in Mexico and Latin America as well as from Barbados and other islands. This is easy, fast, and beckoning, and is best made a day or two ahead. Poaching the seafood very quickly before marinating takes away the trepidation some people have about eating “raw” seafood.

  11/2 pounds large raw shrimp in shells

  1/2 pound raw sea scallops, sliced horizontally into 1/2-inch pieces

  Grated rind of 3 limes, 2 lemons, and 1 orange, no white attached

  1/3 cup fresh lime juice (about 3 limes)

  1/4 cup fresh lemon juice (about 2 lemons)

  1/3 cup fresh orange juice (about 1 orange)

  5 tablespoons fresh parsley, thyme, oregano, and basil, chopped

  1/2 small red onion, very finely chopped

  1/4 cup olive oil

  1/2 to 1 teaspoon hot sauce, optional

  Salt

  Freshly ground black pepper

  1 teaspoon commercial seafood seasoning or Creole seasoning, optional

  1 large avocado, peeled and sliced

  Bring 2 quarts of water to a boil in a large pot. Add the shrimp and poach just a few minutes, until tender and pink. Remove the shrimp with a slotted spoon or strainer, reserving the poaching liquid, and set shrimp aside to cool.

  Return the poaching liquid to a boil. Move the scallops to a heatproof strainer or colander and dip into the boiling water for about 30 seconds, until the scallops are just cooked. Remove and set aside to cool. Peel the cooled shrimp and cut into thirds. Move the scallops and shrimp to a plastic ziplock bag. Add the grated lime, lemon, orange rinds, and the juices. Refrigerate covered, and marinate overnight, tossing occasionally.