Three Christmas Wishes

by Sheila Roberts

  And a guy shouldn’t be looking. He directed his eyes straight ahead. But oh, man, there was the casket again. He lowered his gaze to his hand, the one that wasn’t numb and sweaty.

  “Justine had a long, wonderful life,” said the minister, “and we all know how happy she’d be to see so many of you here to honor her today.”

  It would’ve been better to honor her when she was alive and not been a smart mouth, even if Gram had provoked him. It seemed she was still provoking him from beyond the grave, summoning Mia back to Icicle Falls, dredging up memories of their childhood, those intense teenage years, the final hurt and frustration.

  “When we celebrated her eighty-sixth birthday last month, she told me she was ready to go and meet Jesus,” the minister said. “Everything was in order down here. She’d done all she could.”

  To get her grandson squared away, anyhow. Sadly, he hadn’t squared the way she’d wanted him to.

  “‘And now I’m leaving things up to God,’ she told me. How’s that for a great attitude?”

  No one could deny Gram had her shit together. Which was more than Colin could say.

  Now he was looking in Mia’s direction again. Cut that out! He forced his eyes to move away. Again. Back to staring at his sweaty hand.

  Boring.

  Too bad, he told his wandering eyes. We’re not looking at Mia, so deal with it.

  “Justine wanted us to all celebrate her life,” the minister said. “So, at her request, we’ll sing ‘Amazing Grace’ and then proceed to the fellowship hall for pie and ice cream.”

  Pie and ice cream. As if it was a party. Colin had no interest in partying. Gram and Aunt Beth had been his mothers growing up, and Gram had been the queen bee mother, keeping everyone happy and connected. He didn’t want to celebrate the fact that she was no longer here by eating pie in her memory. It would taste like ashes.

  If it wasn’t for the reading of the will the next day and strict orders from his dad to stick around, he’d be on his way back to Seattle.

  * * *

  This was...awkward. Why had Aunt Beth insisted Mia sit with her?

  Because she was family, of course. Not blood-related, but family just the same. Aunt Beth had been Mama’s best friend, and when Mama got sick and Mia’s loser dad took off, both Aunt Beth and Grandma Justine had been there for them. They’d finished raising her after Mama died. Mia had spent as much time playing in the family’s orchard on Apple Blossom Road as Colin had. She’d helped sell apples at the fruit stand and worked alongside Grandma Justine, canning applesauce and apple-pie filling every fall.

  Still, she was very aware of Colin sitting there, glaring at her as though she didn’t belong. Well, as far as Aunt Beth was concerned she did, darn it. Colin might have dumped her, but his family hadn’t. Most of them, anyway. And just because she lived in Chicago, that didn’t mean she loved Grandma Justine any less than he did. He’d moved away, too.

  Okay, only as far as Seattle, but he’d still moved.

  Behind her an old lady was singing so shrilly it made Mia’s ears hurt. Next to her, Aunt Beth was blowing her nose. And next to Aunt Beth, Colin was frowning. Mia realized she was, too. Oh, Grandma, I wish you weren’t gone. I wish you could have stayed around to hear about my latest success. I wish you could’ve stayed until I finally got the whole love thing right.

  Except at the rate Mia was going with the love thing, Grandma Justine would’ve had to live to be two hundred. How easy it was to take wrong turns, and it seemed that once you did, there was no turning back.

  Never mind the painful past. Mia was here to pay tribute to a wonderful woman, not to sneak glances at the woman’s grandson, the man who broke her heart.

  “We’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begu-un,” warbled the woman behind Mia. It would’ve been more tolerable if she’d been singing in the same key as everyone else. Hopefully, this all sounded a lot better up where Grandma Justine was than it did down here.

  The service ended, and people began to make their way toward the fellowship hall. Aunt Beth still had Colin’s hand, so Mia figured she should slip into the crowd for a while.

  She was just about to when Colin said, “Uh, Aunt Beth, my hand’s gone numb.”

  “Oh, Colin Cootie, I’m sorry,” Aunt Beth said, freeing his hand and latching on to Mia’s arm at the same time. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two here.”

  Since Uncle Mark had been seated two bodies down, next to Colin’s dad, Mia was fairly sure that she would’ve managed. In fact, it was kind of odd that she wasn’t sitting beside her husband.

  Now she had both Mia and Colin by the arm and was walking them down the aisle, making it pretty darned obvious what had motivated the seating arrangement. “I’m so glad you two are staying over.”

  “Did we have a choice?” Colin retorted.

  “Oh, nice,” Mia said. “Be rude to your aunt at your grandma’s funeral.” Sometimes Colin could be so thoughtless.

  He kept his mouth shut, but his scowl said, “Who asked for your opinion?”

  Nobody. And she wasn’t his mother. Or his girlfriend. Not anymore. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  Aunt Beth was always happy to cut them both some slack. “We aren’t ourselves. Mark,” she said over her shoulder, “I think we’re going to need more ice cream for the pies.”

  She was some kind of magician. In the space of a few seconds she’d stepped back a pace to confer with her husband about ice cream and move Mia and Colin together as if they were a couple. Awkward. Oh, so awkward.

  Well, they were adults. “I’m sorry about...” Our grandma? No, technically that wasn’t right. And your grandma sounded...removed, as though she didn’t care. “Grandma Justine.” That was who she was, to Mia and many others.

  He nodded.

  It would have been helpful if he’d said something. Anything. It was his turn.

  And then he did. “Nice dress. You going to a party after this?”

  So now he was a fashion expert? Who’d crowned him the next Clinton Kelly? “As a matter of fact, I am. A celebration of life.”

  He scowled again. Then grudgingly said, “You look good.”

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “So do you.” No lie. He’d been cute as a boy, even cuter as a teenager. As a man he was ridiculously handsome. Blond hair, blue eyes that crinkled at the edges when he smiled, a square chin with a strong mouth that made a girl dream of kisses. Ugh.

  They were in the foyer now. Some of the mourners were already heading toward the addition known as the fellowship hall; others milled around, visiting. She scanned the crowd for someone to talk to besides Mr. Thistle Britches. It wasn’t hard. She knew almost everyone.

  There was her old friend Bailey Sterling-Black, only a few feet away, standing with a man who looked like an escaped model. Todd Black, the new husband, of course.

  “Bailey, hi!” she called.

  Bailey turned and smiled. She took the man’s hand and towed him over. “Mia, when did you get to town? And why didn’t you tell me you were coming, you jerk? Your hair looks great! I love the bangs,” she gushed, hugging Mia.

  “You look great, too,” Mia said. Was that a baby bump her buddy was sporting?

  “You finally get to meet Todd,” Bailey said, beaming at the gorgeous thing beside her. “He owns the Man Cave.”

  “I’ve been in there,” Colin said. What was he still doing here? “Cool place,” he added and the two men shook hands.

  “We also have a tea shop together,” Bailey told Mia. “You definitely have to come by now that you’re finally back in town.” Bailey’s sunny expression disappeared. “Gosh, I’m acting like this is a party. I’m sorry you lost your grandma.”

  “Thanks,” Colin said right along with Mia. She ignored him. Or tried to.
/>   “I wish you were here for happier reasons,” Bailey finished.

  She was kind enough not to say, “I wish you’d made it back for my wedding.”

  Mia should have. She’d missed her old friends, missed Icicle Falls. But the wedding had fallen on the weekend of an important business conference, and she’d had to settle for sending a present. Plus, there was the Colin factor. She’d had no desire to risk another encounter like her last one with him.

  She’d come out for Aunt Beth’s surprise birthday party, newly engaged and nervous about seeing Colin for the first time since their breakup in college. It turned out she’d been right to be nervous. Their meeting had been ugly, nothing she wanted to repeat, so she’d kept her distance.

  She wasn’t going to do that anymore. If she wanted to see Aunt Beth at Christmas, she was going to. And if she wanted to visit for Mother’s Day instead of sending flowers, she was going to do that, too. No more chickening out.

  She’d almost chickened out on coming for the funeral, except Colin’s dad had insisted she come. She was in the will. Maybe Grandma Justine had left her a small piece of jewelry or something. But why Dylan couldn’t have sent it to her, she had no idea.

  Cass Wilkes, the owner of Gingerbread Haus, passed them, bearing a pie. “Mia, great to see you back in town. How are you?”

  “I’m fine,” Mia said. She was, darn it all. She’d set out to prove herself and become a success, and she was well on her way to doing exactly that.

  “You look good. Chicago must agree with you,” Cass said. “Your aunt tells me you’re moving up the ladder at GF Markets.”

  “I am.” She was thrilled about her new responsibility and had been about to share her good news with Grandma Justine when Beth called to tell her Grandma was gone.

  “Of course you should go to the funeral,” Andrea Blackburn, her new boss, had said. “We can start work on the Sprouted Bliss campaign when you come back on Monday.”

  That was last Tuesday. Mia had flown out on Wednesday. That gave her until Sunday to mourn, commiserate and get her Icicle Falls fix before she jumped back into the world of marketing food products to the nation.

  GF stood for Good Food, but you had to use the term loosely when it came to some of the GF products such as Zombie Bites, a sugary corn cereal like half the other sugar-buzz treats on the shelves. Its distinguishing features were the cartoon zombie characters on the box and the goofy zombie-shaped bits of cereal inside. Then there were Yum-balls, a cheap rip-off of another company’s snowball-shaped cakes, complete with marshmallow coating and coconut. Yes, they were yummy but hardly what you’d call a nutritious snack.

  Yum-balls were only the tip of the company’s sugar iceberg. A variety of GF Markets goodies lined the shelves of grocery store baked-goods aisles, and some of them owed their continued existence to Mia. During a marketing brainstorming session on how to reinvigorate sales, she’d suggested simply acknowledging that, other than sensory pleasure, those goodies had no food value whatsoever.

  “But people still love treats.” Herself included. “So why not appeal to that with a slogan like ‘Indulge Yourself.’”

  “Go on,” Andrea had said.

  So she had, outlining an ad campaign that would show happy food consumers on picnics in the countryside, their Fiats parked nearby, or soaking in a bubble bath surrounded by candles, drinking champagne, all of them consuming decadent GF Markets goodies.

  Sales increased, everyone was happy, and she got a raise, along with a case of various GF Markets cake and cookie mixes.

  The company also offered nutritious products, and Sprouted Bliss Bread was the newest addition to that family. The marketing department was under orders to give it a big push, and this one was Mia’s baby. She’d been excited about both the product and the opportunity. The news of Grandma Justine’s death had drowned the thrill.

  “So you like it there?” Cass asked.

  It wasn’t Icicle Falls, but then what place was? “I do.” She had a sweet little apartment, nice friends. No boyfriend. Who had time for a man, anyway, when you were working sixty-hour weeks?

  “And Colin, it’s always good to see you back,” Cass continued. “I’m sorry about your grandmother. We hated to lose her.”

  The reminder of why they were all there brought fresh tears to Mia’s eyes.

  “Thanks,” Colin said. He looked as if he wanted to cry, too. But, of course, he wouldn’t. That guy thing.

  “I guess I’d better get this pie over to the kitchen. See you later,” Cass said and moved on.

  Mia was flying out on Sunday, but she’d make an effort to get to Gingerbread Haus and order a gingerbread boy for old times’ sake.

  More people stopped by on their way to the pie pig-out. Harry Defoe clapped Colin on the back and gave Mia a big bear hug. Harry was several years older than they were, and he was one of Grandma Justine’s many success stories. He lived on the other side of the mountains in the wealthy community of Bellevue. Mia had once eavesdropped on a conversation between Grandma Justine and Harry as they all sat on Grandma and Grandpa’s front porch, Mia and Colin playing gin rummy, and Grandma and Harry on the front porch swing, having an earnest conversation about his future. It had been June. School was out and many of Harry’s friends had had plans to go away to college. Not Harry. His grades hadn’t been good enough.

  She’d patted his shoulder and said, “Harry, college isn’t for everyone.”

  “I just wish I was smart,” he’d mumbled.

  “You are. You’re smart in practical ways.” Mia had peered over in time to see Grandma take his hands in hers. “You’re smart with your hands. You know how to put things together, how to fix things. That’s an important gift. Let me talk to Everett Jenson. I think he could use a strong young man with clever hands.”

  Grandma had, indeed, talked to Everett Jenson, who owned Jenson Plumbing. Harry became a plumber. He eventually started his own business in Seattle and now he was a very rich plumber.

  Harry was one of a dozen success stories standing in the church foyer; kids who’d been lost until Grandma Justine helped them find their way. Kids like Mia, who’d needed a mom. Now here they all were, related by grief.

  Mia stood politely, hugging, fielding condolences. Colin disappeared. Good, she told herself. Now she could relax and enjoy reconnecting with people she hadn’t seen in ages.

  But how did you enjoy yourself when such an important person was gone from your life?

  * * *

  If one more person told Colin what a great woman his grandma was and how lucky he’d been to have her, he was going to sit down in the middle of the church foyer and bawl. He got into his restored Corvette and peeled out of the parking lot. When he was a kid, he would’ve climbed the maple tree in his grandparents’ backyard and hidden in the tree house or run off into the orchard to lick his wounds. That wasn’t possible now. The old farmhouse on Apple Blossom Road had passed out of the family years ago. So the next best place was the river.

  He drove away from town and parked in a scenic pullout alongside one of the turbulent bends in the Wenatchee River and made his way down the bank. That roiling mass of water crashing past boulders in the riverbed perfectly reflected how he felt inside. Why did Gram have to die when she did? Even though he still had Dad and Aunt Beth and Uncle Mark, he felt...abandoned. He picked up a stone and tossed it into the angry rush of water. He was like that stone, sunk in the riverbed while his dreams raced past. While people he loved were rushed around the bend and out of sight.

  His cell phone vibrated and he checked caller ID. Lorelei. He didn’t want to talk but he knew she’d keep calling until he answered. “Hi, babe.”

  “How’s it going?” she asked.

  “Rotten.”

  “You should’ve let me come up with you.”

  “Nah. No sense b
oth of us missing work.”

  “I don’t mind,” she insisted. “It’s not like I can’t reschedule people.”

  As a personal fitness coach, his girlfriend had a certain amount of flexibility. He could have taken her up on her offer. Somehow, and he wasn’t even sure how, it hadn’t felt right.

  “That’s okay. We’ve got the reading of the will tomorrow, and then I’ll head back.” He almost added that he’d be home in plenty of time to do something. Except he didn’t want to do anything. Going for a bike ride or out dancing felt disrespectful of his gram. It seemed wrong to have fun now that she was gone. In fact, it all seemed a rather obscene mockery that the sun was out and the birds were happily singing, cars were driving by up on the highway, filled with people ready to come to Icicle Falls to hike and shop and enjoy themselves. He wanted to yell, “Don’t you all know my grandma is dead?”

  Life goes on. How many times had he heard that expression? Yeah, it did go on, but that philosophy seemed callous now.

  “I’ll call you,” he promised vaguely, and then said goodbye.

  He knew people would be coming to Aunt Beth and Uncle Mark’s place after the affair at the church for more talking and eating, but they’d have to talk and eat without him. The last thing he needed was to stand around and make nice when he wanted to hit something. Losing Gramps had been hard enough, but at least he’d had plenty of warning that Gramps was on his way out. Gram’s death had struck like lightning. She’d been the linchpin of the family and now she was gone.

  He picked up another rock and hurled it. Then he sat down on a boulder and cried. And wished he’d come to Icicle Falls to visit Gram more often.

  Too late. He’d have to do better in the future with Aunt Beth. And Dad, too, of course. Checking in via phone every once in a while really didn’t cut it. He needed to go fly-fishing with the old man, take him out for burgers at Herman’s, come see his aunt and uncle more than once in a blue moon.

  He should probably go back to Aunt Beth’s. She’d expect him to.