Fantastic.
Chapter 5
Jack
I’m spiraling. Locked in the cedarwood-lined bathroom, toilet lid down, pacing in the one-meter space, spiraling.
I promised my boys I would be one thousand percent present for them this weekend. This Christmas, we were going to build snowmen, bake cookies, binge-watch all their favorite Christmas movies like The Grinch, Arthur Christmas, Candy Cane Lane, and god help me—Elf. We have a list taped to the refrigerator at home. I even asked Anna to bring me one of those gingerbread kit houses to build together.
Cliff has been counting down the days since Halloween, when I promised them I would be theirs this holiday. I thought at first his colorful paper rings were counting down to Santa and presents, but then I saw the words scrawled in his six-year-old handwriting: “Days till Dad is ours.” It broke my heart to see that my sister was right, that I haven’t been present enough for them.
Now, we’re trapped in the cabin. Yes, I threw together an overnight bag for just in case. I always do when traveling these mountain roads this time of year. But the weekend trapped in a cabin away from all of our Christmas plans. Hell, let’s be real,away from all the boys’ creature comforts that I’m afraid to be without. At least they have the Switch.
When I finally emerge, chaos has completely taken hold. Dr. Holly and Cliff are in the kitchen, a nuclear puff cloud of something white—I hope it’s just flour—surrounds them like a halo, while Cliff stirs something in a mixing bowl like he’s in a rodeo competition for stirring.
Meanwhile, Todd is in the closet. Literally, he’s unpacking the hall closet. Licking my lips to come up with something to say that isn’t a curse word of “What the actual hell are you doing?”—to all of them, not just Todd—he emerges with a towering stack of classic board games that threatens to topple with each step he takes. My hands go out as my feet walk toward him, to steady the boxes, guide him, but then I remember hating being helped when I was his age, so I let him do it. He gets to the table and sets the stack down gently; a proud look crosses his face.
“Holly told me to get them out,” he says to me, the proud look gone, replaced by the normal grumpy teenage one. Ah. That makes sense. I suppose I shouldn’t have assumed he would want to play a board game on his own.
“Cliff and I are making cookies,” Dr. Holly interjects. “Then I need to re-shovel my path for this evening after dinner.” She looks at me with a look of…I don’t even know how to interpret. Her eyes shine under the kitchen lights, crinkling at the edges with her smile that lights up her entire face. “And I figure I should give y’all the basic facts of the comet before tonight.”
“Why?” comes out of my mouth so fast you’d think it was a horse responding to a rattlesnake. I’ve never wanted to retract a single word faster than right now. The word seems to shut her down. She gives her head a little shake, as if I’ve startled her,and puts her eyes back on Cliff and the bowl. She twists her lips together into an uncomfortable thinking face.
Once she’s helped him add some chocolate chips and marshmallows—where on earth did those come from?—she looks up at me, but not with the same open smiling face. “Listen, I know you don’t want to be here. I don’t want to rain on your holiday. This weekend is really important to me, and if the three of you are here, then that’s cool. But we might as well make the most of it. And don’t worry, when I’m home, I’ll contact your boss and demand that he pay you extra for your time.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Todd’s head fly up to stare at us, his mouth slightly open. I shake my head ever so slightly at him, and his mouth shuts. Cliff, seemingly totally oblivious, is trying to sing the wrong words to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” and seems to have missed the miscommunication.
I should say thank you. Should apologize for sounding gruff. Should say making the best of it is definitely the right idea—good thinking. But my tongue is tied in knots. My heart hurts at the mess I’ve created, and my carefully buried need for affection is trying to rear its ugly head.
So, I do the only thing a sane man would do.
I go outside to shovel more snow.
Chapter 6
Holly
“The cookies smell amazing!” I’m practically salivating as I pull the tray of lumpy chocolate chip marshmallow cookies out of the oven. Cliff’s eyes sparkled with little hearts when I pulled the secret ingredients out of my bag. Yes, will travel with giant-ass telescope, dark chocolate chips, and mini marshmallows. A girl has standards.
Todd high-fives Cliff once he sees the cookies, and now he has heart-eyes, too. Their dad is still shoveling outside. And while I feel bad that he’s working on what the boys tell me is supposed to be his first days off “in what feels like forever,” I’m glad he’s out there if he’s going to be a grump. Handsome doesn’t mean he gets to rain on my parade.
I serve each boy a cookie on a plate with hot cocoa. Dessert before dinner, because—why not? Well, and I have to figure out how to feed the five of us for the weekend. Luckily, there’s a decently stocked pantry. Lots of crackers and soup in our future, I suppose. Mixing a couple cans of the cabin’s minestrone soup with the lentil stew I brought has made a decent enough combination. Like, it’s a hearty minestrone now. There’s enoughcheddar cheese in the fridge and a loaf of bread in my welcome basket, so I’ll fry up grilled cheese sandwiches to go with it.
And tomorrow…we’ll figure out then. Maybe the snow will stop, and Jack will be able to plow his way home with his boys. Leaving me to…spend Christmas alone with my comet. Sigh. That was the original plan, even though it sounds sad now.
Checking my watch, I see it’s civil twilight. I set a timer for an hour—my first trek out to see the night sky. I originally planned to leave the telescope set up for the duration of my stay. But I wonder how it will hold up to all the snow falling. When I turn from the stove to tell the boys about the timer, I find them deeply engrossed in a game of chess. At first glance, I know they have to be pulling my leg, making fun of me for pulling out these old-fashioned games. But they are seriously playing. Todd smirks at his brother as he takes his bishop with his knight. Cliff immediately retaliates by taking that knight with his other bishop. Impressive.
Dinner is easy. The three of us eat, me telling them some basics about the Kringle Comet. Cliff’s excitement alone is enough to send me to the moon. But even quiet, teenagery Todd asks questions and has insightful comments about our night sky.
I’m only a little worried when I put our dishes in the sink and Jack still isn’t back yet. Opening my mouth to say something, I pause. What would I say? They’re just boys. We do have the landline. I suppose I could call the number on the wall by the phone. Though…didn’t Jack say that was his number, in case I needed help? Ironic, as he’s the one I now need help with. Shit.
The lights flicker. Todd, Cliff, and I all look at each other, to the ceiling lights, and then at each other again. “It’s bound to happen,” Todd says with a sigh, sounding much older than his fifteen years. Sounding a lot like a grumpy mountainous ranchhand. I nod and set up the candles that the boys shoved to a corner earlier. Just in case.
When my timer goes off, excitement floods me. “I’m going to put my coat on and head out to check the comet. Do you two want to come?” I remember to smile while I invite them, and Cliff shouts with his fist in the air. Having an enthusiastic six-year-old follow me around at work every day would be a major boost to my self-esteem. Todd looks wary, but he bundles up too. I grab headlamps for each of us so we can see in the dark. Boots laced up, I stand at the same time the door flies open, flurries flying in. Jack.
Instantaneous panic floods through me at the sight of him. Thick snow covers his head and shoulders. I can’t see his face. He’s hunched over, hands buried in his coat, and at first I imagine he’s injured himself. Impaled on the snow shovel? I know, sounds ridiculous, but let’s just say my anxiety is at the wheel at this juncture.
Before I can gather my poor wits enough to touch him, help him, he stands. His face is red and white. Eyelashes and stubble are coated in tiny, perfect snowflakes, while his nose and cheeks look sunburned red.
