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“Smart question.” Brodie changed a couple of numbers. “But the weight of the load carried is part of the overall weight calculation. So it’s all good.” He was so convincing that Ella almost believed it herself.
She was breathless with gratitude and admiration, but Tab was still suspicious.
“So why doesn’t Nanna believe?”
“This is—er—very complicated maths.” He sent Gayle an apologetic look. “Not always easy to understand—”
Gayle opened her mouth but Samantha spoke first.
“Which of the reindeer is Buzzard again?”
Tab pointed, her arm wavering. “The one with half an antler.”
“Shall we go and stroke him?” Samantha whisked Tab to the reindeer at the front, protecting her from whatever it was Gayle had been about to say.
Brodie followed, which gave Ella the chance to speak up.
She couldn’t let this pass. She just couldn’t.
She wasn’t sure where to start, but Gayle made it easy.
“I know you’re angry with me, but I was thinking about what’s best for Tab. She asks these endless questions and you’re doing her no favors by offering up lies in response. It’s not right to encourage her to believe that life is a fairy tale.”
“I decide what’s right. I’m her mother, and I decide.” Ella’s voice shook as much as her hands. “I don’t care what you think. It doesn’t matter what you think.” She couldn’t believe her mother would say such a thing, although why should it surprise her? This was her childhood all over again.
Her mother was tense. “All I’m saying is that bringing up a child to believe in a magical benevolent being creates false expectations. You think I’m the killer of joy, but I’m trying to protect her.”
“The difference between us is that you try and suppress joy because you’re so afraid of losing it, whereas I want to savor joy wherever I find it. Yes, life sends dark times, but that’s all the more reason to feast on the happy times and store them up. I’m not teaching her to believe a lie—I’m teaching her to enjoy the moment.”
“I think—”
“It doesn’t matter what you think. Tab isn’t your child, and this isn’t your decision.” Ella stood her ground. She’d never set boundaries for herself before, but she discovered it was remarkably easy when it related to her daughter. “This is my life, Mom. My choices. My decisions. You don’t get to decide for me. I don’t need or want your opinion on my career choice, my relationships or the way I raise my daughter.”
Her mother was pale. “But if you—”
“There is no ‘but’ on this one. If I want to indulge Tab with a Christmas stocking and tales of Santa and flying reindeer, then I’ll do it. And if one day I regret taking that approach, then that’s on me. But in the meantime, you’ll go along with it. It was your choice to spend Christmas with us, Mom. You insisted. So these are the rules. That’s it. That’s all. If you don’t like it, then perhaps this isn’t the best place for you to be.”
Her heart was thudding so hard she felt dizzy and faint.
She expected her mother to come back at her, to deride her choices, but instead Gayle swallowed hard.
“I think it’s best if I go back indoors. I feel a little tired. It’s the cold air.” She turned and stumbled along the forest trail that led back to the house, leaving Ella feeling hot with frustration and misery, but also strong. She’d said what needed to be said. Yes, it was hard doing that, but that didn’t mean it was wrong.
For the first time in her life, she’d insisted that her mother respect her choices. She felt furious, but also empowered.
But none of those feelings changed the fact that the chances of having a happy Christmas were looking less likely by the minute.
Gayle
She’d been trying so hard to change, and it mattered so much that she did. There was a delightful simplicity to being with her granddaughter. Maybe it was because they had no history. It really was a fresh start, and that freshness—that feeling that this truly was a second chance—had infected Gayle with optimism. But she’d made a mistake. In that one fatal moment she’d been her old self, not the self she’d promised herself she’d be in order to glue together those fractured family bonds. It turned out that change was nowhere near as easy as she made it sound in her books. Right now it felt as painful as having a sharp object stuck in her side. Her old self had shoved her new self out of the way when confronted by something as contentious as Santa. Now she wished she’d said nothing, or at least murmured something vague.
Christmas had always been a breaking point in their family.
She’d found it difficult—impossible in fact—to pretend. And Ella didn’t understand. Why would she? Gayle had never told the truth. And Ella had always been impulsive and dreamy. Oblivious to the dark that lurked at the edges of the happiest life.
Santa? Flying reindeer? Not in the life she’d lived.
Gayle stumbled through the front door of the lodge, desperate to reach her room. Her throat ached. Her eyes stung. She hadn’t cried for decades. And yet here she was, ready to bawl like a baby. It was because she was tired and despondent. Her carefully constructed, familiar life no longer fitted, and this new life didn’t seem to fit, either. It was as if she’d tried to squeeze herself into someone else’s clothes.
