Christmas Sisters

by Tess Thompson

  Stevie popped out of bed and smoothed down the beautiful flannel nightie Maddie had given her the night before. Feeling like a little kid, she bounced into the kitchen to help prep a breakfast feast to enjoy after gift opening.

  “Merry Christmas!” Hailey and Alissa yelled the second they entered the room, making her grin.

  “Merry Christmas, weirdos,” she muttered back—and everyone laughed. It made her feel silly and warm inside. Instead of side eying her, they seemed to totally get her sense of humor.

  “Perfect timing!” Maddie announced. “Let’s open presents.”

  Stevie was touched by Hailey’s gift: a little notebook with a fox on its front cover. Even more adorable was Hailey’s shy whisper, “I thought you’d like it because of your name. Get it?”

  “I do get it. Good one,” Stevie whispered back, “and I love it. Thank you.”

  Stevie immediately knew what she was going to use it for: writing out any recipes or cooking instructions Maddie gave her, so she could keep them always.

  Jo had gotten her a little gift too: a rechargeable flashlight. The others seemed mildly surprised by the gift, murmuring, “Oh, nice . . .” in a not quite convincing way as if relieved Jo hadn’t gotten them flashlights. But Stevie laughed with loud, surprised delight—at the gift, but also at the bubbly glee rising up in her. She and Jo had an inside joke! She’d read about inside jokes before but had never had one. The first thing Jo said when she saw Stevie's wonderful room their first morning was, “It’s perfect, but you need a light to read in bed!”

  After the last gift was opened, they all galloped back to the kitchen and did the final work toward their Christmas breakfast feast. And that was highlight number three. Stevie loved every minute of being directed by Maddie about how to do this or mix that, and she was beyond thrilled when Maddie asked if she could follow a recipe.

  “I think so, yeah,” she said—and Maddie got her to make blueberry waffles all by herself! The chore took on even more special significance when she discovered that blueberry waffles for Christmas brunch were part of Maddie and her husband and daughter’s holiday tradition.

  Later that night, while everybody played with their gifts and visited some more, Stevie replayed the day, recalling each moment in as much detail as possible, wanting to commit it all to memory, so she could pull it out again and again in the future. It wasn't the gifts that made the day so special. It wasn’t even the food. It was that she'd never been surrounded by people who were so happy to be together. Even when she was quiet, lost in her thoughts from time to time—or the others were—it felt like they all belonged. And suddenly, just like that, it was too much.

  Stevie needed to be alone. She asked Maddie if she could go sit on the porch for a bit.

  “Of course. Let me get you a blanket.”

  Stevie hadn’t been outside in the big wicker rocking chair for long when Maddie joined her, two cups of hot chocolate in hand.

  “I know the last thing you probably want right now is something else to eat, but I thought hot chocolate out on the porch, surrounded by the crispy snow and the stars above, felt extra Christmassy.”

  Stevie smiled. It really did.

  “Also, I wanted to check in with you. It’s been such a wonderful Christmas for me, but it feels bittersweet too. I wondered if it’s the same for you.”

  Stevie nodded. That was the thing about Maddie—why she was so loved not only by her but by all the kids at school. She just . . . got you.

  “I don’t know.” Stevie gestured at the big house behind her, its windows glowing with Christmas lights and shadows of its happy occupants flitting past here and there. “This is all so great, but it also sucks, you know?”

  Maddie nodded.

  “Part of me feels awful having fun when my mom probably isn’t . . . and when, like, I don't know where she is.”

  “I get that.”

  “She’s not a totally bad person, you know. She’s not.”

  Maddie nodded again. “I know.”

  “And when you asked if I would like to live with you and I said yes, I meant it. I really did. But I also know it's not possible.”

  Maddie’s head tilted as if Stevie’s last comment confused her. She sank onto a bench beside the wicker rocking chair and pulled a piece of Stevie's blanket over her lap.

  “What do you mean ‘not possible?’”

  “Just that, well . . .” For a second, Stevie couldn't find the words, but then she spoke in a rush. “Jo, Alissa, Hailey . . . They don't have moms. They don't have families. They’re free to live here with you forever if that's what you all want. But that's not how it is for me.”

  Maddie looked down and was uncharacteristically quiet for a long time.

  Here it comes, thought Stevie. I'm right. My mom’s already shown up again, or Natalie’s told Maddie I have to go back to a group home or something because I have a parent. Maddie probably just wanted to spare me the bad news until after Christmas because, of course, she’s nice like that.

  Finally, Maddie spoke. “When I asked if you wanted to live with me, Stevie, I wasn’t just asking out the blue. I’d already asked Natalie how it would work and if it would be possible—not because I care whether the arrangements will be difficult—no matter how difficult they are, I’ll see them through—but because I didn't want to disappoint you again. You've already had enough disappointments for a whole lifetime, and then some.”

  Stevie tucked her half of the blanket around herself a little more tightly and waited for it. “But?” she asked.

  “No buts. For as long as your mom is not here, this is your home. And if, when, your mom shows up again, we’ll take it from there. If you need—or want—to live with her again, I want you to know you’ll always have a home here with me too.”

  “Really?” It sounded to Stevie like Maddie was saying that she was going to be there for her from here on out, no matter what—that it didn't matter what the details were. Everything would just be okay. Maddie would always watch out for her.

  She hadn't realized she'd expressed that thought aloud until Maddie squeezed her shoulder and said, “Yes, that's exactly what I mean. You got it.”

  Stevie had watched a lot of Christmas specials on TV. She'd sang Christmas carols and heard a zillion of them on the radio. She'd read countless books containing Christmas “themes” as Mr. B. would say, but until that moment, she’d never understood how truly merry and perfect—and life-changing—a Christmas really could be.

  “I’m . . . I’m just going to sit out here a little while longer,” Stevie said.

  “You bet. Take all the time you need.” Maddie got to her feet—and was almost at the door when Stevie whispered, “Maddie?”

  “Yeah?”

  Stevie swallowed against the hard lump in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Aw, sweetie . . . you’re so welcome. Merry Christmas.”

  Alissa Mann

  Author Tess Thompson

  This was not how her life was supposed to go.

  Alissa wasn’t supposed to be in a social worker’s office that smelled of burned coffee on a cold night in December. Alone. Without Mommy and Daddy. Please wake up, she thought. Let this be a bad dream.

  But dreams didn’t have smells. Nightmares were over faster than this. If she called out from her cozy bed in their warm house, her mother came. Not now. Her mother was dead. She would never comfort Alissa in the middle of the night ever again.

  The social worker, Mrs. Keele, had left her in the office to wait while she wrapped up some details. Alissa didn’t know what details meant, only that she was to be sent to a foster home because her mother and father were dead.

  Shaking, she pulled her sweater tighter around her middle. She’d had her jacket on after her school concert, but she didn’t now. Where had her jacket gone? A space heater in the corner made a humming insect sound but no heat warmed the room. Her tired, puffy eyes stung. A split in the orange plastic cushion of the chair dug into h
er leg as she looked around the small office. Layers of paper and folders littered a grey metal desk. A calendar with a photograph of kittens playing with a ball of string hung on the wall behind the desk.

  The scent of burned coffee reminded her of the time her mother forgot to turn the electric pot off, and the stench had filled the house. Daddy had teased Mommy, saying she was an absentminded professor. This was their joke because they were both professors and equally forgetful. They’d never forgotten Alissa though. She’d been their whole world. Hadn’t Mommy just said that to her last week?

  The accident had been at night, coming home from her school holiday recital. Her fourth-grade class had sung “Frosty the Snowman.” Alissa was the smallest in her class, so the teacher had put her on the bottom rung of the bleachers. Her parents had been in the front row with their video camera. They’d smiled and clapped extra hard when the song finished.

  Going home, the roads were icy. Daddy said not to worry. He was a great driver even with ice because he was extra careful because of the precious cargo he carried. “That’s us,” Mommy said, as she glanced back at Alissa.

  A car had lurched into their lane like a bumper car ride at the county fair they’d been to last summer. She remembered that. Mommy screamed. Then, everything went black. Alissa woke up in a hospital bed. Her head and body ached. Her mouth so dry. A nurse with hair like a mushroom and creases in her cheeks had given her ice-cold water in a plastic cup with a bendy straw. “Where’s my mommy and daddy?” she’d asked.

  The nurse with the mushroom hair zipped her lips together and avoided eye contact, then scurried away. A policeman in a blue uniform and a round stomach came to talk to her. He’d spoken softly, like they were at the library.

  Her parents hadn’t survived the accident. “They were killed instantly,” he said. “They didn’t suffer.”

  “But I heard Mommy scream,” Alissa said.

  The rims of the police officer’s eyes turned pink. “I’m sorry, Alissa.”

  She was an orphan now. She asked him what would happen to her. He said social services would come. “They’ll find a place for you to go,” he said.

  “A place?”

  “A home with a family. A foster home,” he said. “Or, a relative who wants you.”

  There was no one. Her parents were only children. Alissa’s grandparents had all died before she was born. Mommy had once told her that she and Daddy had been drawn to each other because of their similar experiences, having lost their single mothers young. “We became each other’s family,” she’d said.

  So, that meant she would go to a foster home. She’d heard of those. A girl in her grade had been in one. She came to school in dirty, ragged clothes, and her eyes reminded Alissa of a dog’s eyes she’d seen in an advertisement for a pet rescue society, haunted and defeated. Mommy had once said that it was a special type of person who would offer their home to a child in need. Was she now a child in need? She didn’t want to be.

  Now, she waited for Mrs. Keele to return and tell her where she would go next. The vastness of that question made her chest burn. She would not go back to her own house with her pink room and unicorn pillows. She would no longer wake to the smell of bacon and pancakes. She would no longer fall asleep after a bedtime story. They’d only been halfway through the Harry Potter series. Would she ever know what happened to Harry, Ron and Hermione?

  “We’ve done a search and there’s no one in either of your parents’ families that are available to take you,” Mrs. Keele had said.

  “I know,” Alissa had replied. She could have told Mrs. Keele that, but no one asked her anything. They just set her aside like leftover Chinese food going bad in the back of the refrigerator.

  “We’ll find a nice family for you,” Mrs. Keele had said, as her large hands moved papers around her desk. Her skin looked chapped, and her cuticles red and irritated. Alissa wanted to offer some of Mommy’s lotions that she’d always carried in her purse. Where was Mommy’s purse? Had it been thrown from the car? Was it out on the highway somewhere? Were Mommy’s friends sending texts to a phone that would never be picked up again?

  Mommy and Daddy.

  Tears came. Alissa tried to stop them, but it was useless. Grief filled her, pushing away everything but the awful bleak hopelessness. She hugged her knees and sobbed. A terrible darkness lived in her chest now. She was lost, adrift. Alone. Mrs. Keele said she couldn’t go back to school. She’d no longer be best friends with Sophie. Probably that horrible Roxanne would worm her way in and become Sophie’s new best friend. She’d never see Mrs. Johnson, her favorite teacher, ever again.

  Everyone she loved was gone.

  What would happen to their Christmas tree? There were presents under there too. Who would take them? The shell frame she’d made at school for Mommy and Daddy was under there, wrapped in sparkly blue paper. What would happen to it? And what about all their things?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Mrs. Keele’s return. “Time to go, dear.”

  Go? Where?

  Alissa was in Mrs. Kirby’s kitchen. Gingerbread cookies were stacked on a platter shaped like Santa. Alissa had been allowed to have a cookie even though they hadn’t yet had dinner. The sweetness remained in her mouth even after taking a sip of milk.

  They’d chatted for a few minutes, then Mrs. Kirby told her something surprising.

  “I knew your dad,” Mrs. Kirby said. “He was a wonderful man.”

  “You knew him?”

  “Yes, my late husband worked with him at the university. They were both professors. I remember when you were born. Your dad was so proud. He went around the whole department handing out cigars.”

  “Cigars?” Alissa wrinkled her nose.

  “That’s just something people do when a baby is born,” Mrs. Kirby said. “Silly, isn’t it?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Would you like to call me Maddie, instead of Mrs. Kirby?”

  “I guess so.” Alissa studied Maddie. She had long dark lashes and wore pink lipstick. Her perfume smelled like a meadow of wildflowers. She wore a zebra print dress and long black boots with a heel. Mommy would have liked her. She would have complimented her boots. “Did you know my mom too?”

  “Yes. I met her a few times at parties. She was very pretty and smart…” Maddie trailed off, and fidgeted with a napkin.

  Alissa nodded and tried not to cry. Her Mommy had been the prettiest woman in the whole world.

  They didn’t suffer.

  “They died,” she said.

  “I know, sweetie. I’m so very sorry. It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I just want to go home.”

  Maddie put her hand on Alissa’s shoulder. The gentle touch made her want to crawl onto Maddie’s lap and bury her face into the soft, sweet-smelling shoulder. “My husband died a few years back,” Maddie continued. “My little daughter too.”

  A dart of shock coursed through Alissa. Did Maddie have the dark hole in her chest too? Was that what made her eyes sad?

  “They were in a car accident too,” Maddie said.

  “Oh.” She couldn’t think what to say.

  “I know how hard it is to understand what happened but I’m here to help.”

  “You have sad eyes,” Alissa said.

  “Yes, I do,” Maddie said. “My heart’s sad, so it shows in my eyes. I’m here for you now. The others will be too. Your new sisters. You won’t ever have to be alone again.”

  Alissa’s mind tumbled over this idea. Would her sisters become new friends? Other girls who understood what it was like to be without parents?

  “I know I can’t take the place of your parents, but I’ll love you like my own.”

  “Why?”

  “Because loving you makes it hurt less that my daughter is in heaven instead of here with me.”

  Maddie seemed nice—and she’d always wanted a sister. Not this way, of course, but her parents were gone. “I’d like to have sisters.”


  Maddie smiled and kissed the top of Alissa’s head. “I have something for you.” She went to the counter where a blue purse sat next to the telephone. Maddie reached inside, and returned to the table to set a small silver heart in front of Alissa. “Whenever you feel scared or anxious, hold this heart and know your mother and father are now your guardian angels. They’ll always be with you, even if you can’t see them.”

  Alissa squeezed her fingers around the cold metal. Seconds later, warmth spread through her body, seemingly radiating from the heart. For the first time, she had hope that she would be all right. Her mother and father were her angels now. All she had to do was remember them, and they would be with her.

  “Thank you,” she said to Maddie, remembering her manners. Mommy always said there was always something to be thankful for, even during the darkest times. She was thankful for Maddie Kirby.

  Please, Mommy and Daddy, look over me and this nice lady. And my new sisters.

  Alissa was seated at the dining room table in Maddie’s house with three other girls. She couldn’t yet think of them as her sisters even though she felt an instant connection with them. They all had sad eyes too. Still, they were strangers, thrown together because their parents were gone. Jo was a big girl of fifteen, with green eyes that were angry, as well as wretched. When Alissa smiled at her, Jo looked away and flushed. Stevie was the next oldest at thirteen, with a face kind of like a storm cloud. Her hair was the color of a copper cup Alissa’s father used to drink Moscow Mules out of on Saturday nights. The littlest girl, Hailey, wore thick glasses and darted glances at Alissa with her big blue eyes. She was so tiny and thin that Alissa thought she might float away like a balloon if someone didn’t hold her down. With that in mind, she scooted her chair closer and reached under the table to take Hailey’s hand.