“This needs to simmer for a while. How about we start on the tree while we’re waiting?” I would say the moment was broken by her change in conversation, but it’s not. As a matter of fact, I don’t know how I’ll survive until the snow melts. Everything she says simply pulls me closer. “I have an idea. Do you have any construction paper?”
“Umm.” I take a quick look around the kitchen. I haven’t seen construction paper in years. “Maybe. It would be left over from when Travis was still in school. We can look in the office.”
I lead the way through the mudroom into a small room where Dad kept his office. It’s mine now, but I don’t use it that often. The room is still filled with framed photos of us trapped in time before my parents passed.
“Your parents looked like movie stars,” Harmony says softly. I lift my head from the desk drawer I’m searching through to see what she’s looking at. It’s a photo from their wedding.
“Yeah, everyone said they looked like a fairy tale.”
“Is this you?” She’s pointing to another photo of me in a Little League uniform next to Dad.
“It is. I think I was in first grade. Travis wasn’t born yet.”
“Then neither was I.” She doesn’t need to remind me that I’m ten years older than her. It feels like there is a lifetime between us. Sometimes Travis and I feel the same way.
“Y’all are so cute.” She’s studying one from a Christmas when I must have been twelve and Travis was two. I was always tall for my age, so cute is not the word I’d use to describe my awkward pre-teen self.
“Found some,” I announce flopping an old pack of paper on the desk.
“I remember when your parents died. As an eight-year-old, I had no idea what to say to Travis. He was sad for so long.” I grow still. I thought I did a good job at picking up the pieces for my little brother. It bothers me, even after all these years, to think of him mourning their loss. It was natural for him to miss them, but it still breaks my heart. “It was a car accident, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah. They were coming back from Austin. They weren’t sure if Dad tried to dodge a deer or fell asleep or what. The car rolled.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. Her gaze turns to me, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I wish I had known what to say to Travis at the time. I truly am sorry.”
“Mmm,” I grunt. “It was a long time ago.” Taking the construction paper, I return to the kitchen table. It still hurts to talk about their accident. It’s easier just to forget. She follows me and adds some scissors and tape to the pile.
“I thought we could use the construction paper to make garland instead of popcorn and mushy cranberries.”
“That’s probably wise.” I breathe a sigh of relief when she lets the subject of my parents’ death go. There’s so much more to her than people realize. I imagine just having her around when it happened helped Travis, even if she didn’t know what to say.
She begins cutting the paper into strips while I tape the chains together. It’s not long before we have a multicolored chain of garland.
“What are we doing for lights?” she asks.
I turn to study the tree. Even if I still had our Christmas lights, they wouldn’t be working after all this time.
“I need to ride over to the neighbors and check on them tomorrow. I can see if they have any we can borrow. They’re both older, so I need to make sure they’re okay,” I answer. “You can come if you don’t mind riding one of the horses.”
“Really?” She claps her hands with glee. “My first official horseback ride.”
“You never rode a horse at summer camp growing up?”
“My parents couldn’t afford summer camp, and none of my friends had horses. It’s not like I could stay out here in high school to ride with Travis,” she points out.
“No, I guess not. He never enjoyed it anyway.”
“Yeah, so,” Harmony says, pushing up from the table. “I say we hang this on the tree.” She loops the garland around my neck several times before pulling me out of my chair.
“What about the lights?”
“It won’t be that big of a deal to weave them in if we get some tomorrow. I just can’t stand that naked tree even one more second.” I follow her into the living room with a smile. “We’ll work on making snowflakes for it next.” Unwrapping the garland from around my neck, she begins threading it through the limbs.
“What do you need for snowflakes?”
“Copy paper, scissors, and paperclips.”
“Okay.” I return to the office for more supplies. Taking a moment to look around the room, I decide it’s time to turn it back into a real office.
