Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  “Sorry for that, Tiff…me falling apart is the last thing you need to deal with.”

  “Sisters. We have each other.”

  Arm in arm they went to the kitchen, cranked music, and sang along to Christmas carols while baking sugar cookies. This was her family. She would be the best aunt ever.

  ***

  Ryker rinsed his last paint brush then set it to dry on the newspaper spread out on his patio. He’d gotten an actual bistro table in weathered driftwood and put up triangular shade screens in purple and blue. Glossy blue ceramic pots held sea grass that waved in the breeze.

  He’d filled a clear vase with sea glass he’d collected over the years that he centered on the table. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and he would be at his parents’ house to celebrate.

  This house and getting it refurbished, and furnished, was his gift to himself. He’d picked up the television his mom had bought his dad and wrapped a giant red bow around it. His present to his parents was a new television cabinet with all kinds of bells and whistles.

  For Toby, he’d gotten a new barbecue, and he’d bought his each of his sisters spa packages. The girls both had new boyfriends this year that he’d picked up gift cards for—after some deliberation, he’d done that for his brother’s new girlfriend too.

  He dialed his mom, who answered on the first ring. “Ryker! I was just thinking about you—how are you, son?”

  “Good, good.”

  “I got a friend request from you on Facebook and thought for sure I had to be mistaken, but then your dad and the girls got one too.”

  “Yeah—I’m entering the cyber social world.”

  “It’s about time,” she said. “What prompted it?”

  “Serenity.”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah?”

  “Well, Toby said she’s a social influencer. Guess she influenced you, huh?”

  “Mom!”

  She laughed at her own joke. “All right, all right. Why’d you call?”

  “I wanted to see what I could bring for tomorrow, other than what I already am, you know...” The television.

  “Sh. Bring your appetite. Or a date—even Serenity. Is she moving back to town? Heaven help us if that’s the case.”

  He’d been a little wild after freshman year overcome with guilt and self-angst. His brother, his best friend, had save his ass many times. “Serenity lives in LA and has plans for Christmas Eve with Tiffany.”

  He was going to mention finishing the house but decided against it. He wanted to show it to Serenity first. “See you tomorrow, Mom.”

  Ryker ended the call and sat down at his desk—he opened his computer to see if Serenity had gotten a chance to update his Facebook and Instagram pages.

  Wow. He had five thousand likes on Instagram, and a friend request from Georgette Simon, with a picture of her sea salt scrub. He clicked on the alert that he had a web notification which brought him to his website.

  His chest hurt like someone had punched him in the solar plexus and he couldn’t breathe.

  Pictures of their family on vacation, not just that fateful day with the trash but other vacations too…his family must’ve been in on it. Pictures of sea turtles caught in plastic bags, then music that evoked emotion—he was impressed. Then pictures of him now, walking the beach with his bags for trash. Recycling. Talking to Bob. He’d had no idea Serenity had captured those moments to tell his story—the story he hadn’t realized he could share and that it mattered.

  She’d done that for him.

  How could he ever thank her?

  He sent her a text. Great website and pictures. Got a friend request from Georgette—does that mean she’s interested? I owe you more than dinner.

  Five minutes passed before Serenity answered. Toby helped me. Great news about Georgette—that mean’s she’s watching you and likes what she sees.

  He couldn’t believe it. Serenity had the power to change the world—she certainly had his. Thank you.

  YW

  Dinner?

  OK

  When?

  I don’t know yet—gotta go, helping Tiff bake!

  Save me some.

  You’ll get your own plate. CU

  Ryker went into his bedroom—multi shades of blue on the comforter, light blue walls, wooden furniture. The bedroom had a large side window that overlooked the beach and sea. The whole time he’d been painting and decorating, he’d imagined Serenity. He made a secret wish for her to give him another chance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Christmas morning Serenity woke up feeling as if something was off. Dressed in her sleep shorts and t-shirt, she left the guest room and listened in the hall for Tiff. The party last night had been fun and festive, but she’d sensed her sister’s disappointment each time the door opened, and it wasn’t Jonas.

  She’d found herself looking for Ryker and feeling the same.

  She knew Ryker wasn’t supposed to the there, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to see him. They weren’t a couple, and she wasn’t having a baby, so she imagined what Tiffany was feeling had to be acutely sorrowful.

  Folks had left around midnight and Serenity had shooed Tiff to bed with the pups, then cleaned, glad to have something to focus her energy on. Where the hell was Jonas? She’d tried to call but it had gone to voicemail. Her sister wanted her husband home for Christmas, but it wasn’t something in her power to make happen. It wasn’t as simple as running out and buying a new dress.

  She remembered being kids and making sure to leave a plate with a cookie on it for Santa, so that Tiff would be excited. She’d left one out last night too, then filled Tiffany’s stocking, and brought presents to pile beneath the tree.

  She heard a stifled sob in the living room and raced down the hallway. “Tiffany?”

  Her sister, dressed in fluffy red and green pajamas with snowmen slippers on her feet, knelt by the tree, the dogs on either side of her. She pointed to the gifts and her stocking, and the plate with a cookie and the bite out of it.

  Getting awkwardly to her feet, Tiffany cried softly.

  “What’s wrong? Are you hurting?” Serenity pulled her in for a hug.

  “No. How am I going to be a good mom? You did all of this stuff for me—Mom didn’t. What if I don’t have the good mom gene?”

  “Tiffany! You’re going to be a great mother—I see how you are with Glitz and Glamour. The dogs are groomed, loved, fed…they have their own stockings.”

  Tiffany snorted and pulled back. “If it wasn’t for you filling in, I know my childhood wouldn’t have been as happy.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, you’re a happy person. And you can bake…those cookies were amazing. They were almost all gone by the end of the party.”

  Her eyes widened. “What about Jonas? I wanted to save some.”

  “I hid some and made a plate for Ryker too.” She urged her sister to the sofa. “No word?” She nodded to the cell phone on the coffee table.

  Tiffany cried some more. Her sister never had been much of a crier, but she’d Googled tears and pregnant ladies, and discovered it was hormonal.

  How to cheer her up?

  “He must be in flight somewhere. He hasn’t answered my texts or calls. He’d promised to do his best to be here for the party yesterday.” Tiff rested her hand on her large belly. “What if something’s wrong?”

  “Nothing went wrong.” Serenity pulled her phone from her pocket and headed to the kitchen. “I’ll make us some hot chocolate. You turn on some music, or maybe a movie? Holiday Inn?”

  Tiff scrunched her nose. “I don’t know why you like that old movie—how about let’s see what’s on Hallmark?”

  “Sure.” Tiff was addicted to Hallmark Christmas movies. There were worse things, she supposed, but it didn’t help with all the crying.

  She switched on the electric kettle then texted a quick message to Jonas. Where are you? Please answer!

  He had to be traveling—he wasn’t a cruel man to make Tiffany wa
it.

  She had messages from her friends in LA and she took a candid selfie—no makeup, but hot chocolate with schnapps on the way—and wished her followers a Merry Christmas. Glitz had learned that if she followed Serenity, there was usually a goodie of some sort in it for her, and this holiday morning was no different.

  Gruyere on crackers for some early snacks, with leftover prosciutto—and a hunk of mild salami for Glitz.

  She put everything on a tray to bring to the living room. Tiffany had put a long red satin stocking with an S on it next to her on the couch. “You’re here,” she sing-songed, patting the cushion.

  “I’ll get yours,” Serenity said. “Here. Iced lemon cookies, or peppermint fudge?”

  Tiffany eyed the array of snacks and opted for a chocolate-covered pretzel before she settled back against the couch, her arm resting on the mound of tummy before her. “I’ve read the forums for being pregnant and all this crying is supposed to stop. I hope it stops. I can’t watch a freaking laundry commercial without getting teary-eyed.”

  “You’re fine. You’re going through a lot of changes. Little boy will be here in two weeks.”

  “I don’t feel ready.”

  The nursery was painted a soft ivory with pale blue accents. The crib was a gray wood, and the dresser matched. Tiny clothes had been washed and put away. They had a car seat and nursing supplies.

  “The only thing that baby needs is a name,” Serenity teased.

  “What if his name sucks? It’s forever.”

  “Do you like your name?”

  Tiffany shrugged. “It’s kind of an airhead name.”

  “It is not!” Serenity put her hand on Tiff’s knee.

  “What about you?”

  “Serenity is a hippie name and that is so not me.”

  Tiffany giggled. “I don’t know. You’re always my calm port in a storm. I think it fits.”

  Ah—that was sweet. “Except for my Ryker meltdown. Well, you’re the kindest person that I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine you with a different name.”

  Tiff frowned, her brow creasing as she rubbed the side of her tummy.

  “How did you name Glitz and Glamour?”

  Tiffany nibbled the end of a pretzel stick. “They were the cutest puppies, with the black and white pattern and pretty blue eyes—they were just divas. I’d bought them blingy collars—we kept tossing around names, but those just fit.”

  “Well, maybe that’s how it will be for junior here.” Serenity brought out her phone. “I know—we could make a post about it.”

  Tiffany choked on her pretzel. “No—no, no. Who knows what people would come up with?” She sat forward for a drink of cocoa. “I think I’ll know when we meet him, but I have some ideas I want to run by Jonas first.”

  Both of them looked toward the door.

  Nothing.

  “Shall we call Mom, and get that over with?” Serenity had fortified her hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps.

  “No. Let’s open our stockings but save presents for later, just in case…Jonas comes home in time.” She sniffed, and patted Glamour’s head.

  She checked her phone for a text. Lots of notifications from social media, but nothing from Jonas. She squeezed her sis’s snowman slipper. “Perfect.”

  By noon they’d made the dreaded call to Mom, changed into comfy leggings, sweaters, and new Christmas socks, and eaten real food rather than cookies and treats. Eggs were a hard no for Tiff, and she was now over the chili, so Serenity had put together homemade macaroni and cheese that appeased her sister’s finicky palate.

  Serenity looked away when Tiffany added ketchup on the side.

  They were just settling down for a movie when a knock sounded on the door.

  Tiffany paled. “Jonas wouldn’t knock.”

  “Stop—he’s fine.” She was getting worried too and opened the door with apprehension filling her belly. It turned to confusion, then pleasure. “Ryker?”

  Handsome as could be in a thin red flannel shirt and jeans, blond hair a bit on the rumpled side, Ryker’s half-grin took her breath away.

  “Santa?” she drawled.

  “Merry Christmas!” He carried an armload of gifts. “May I come in?”

  “Twice in one year! I must’ve been a good girl.” Her heart did a happy dance, even though she was sad for her sis. “Did you happen to see Jonas out there?”

  “No.” Ryker kissed her cheek, and then Tiffany’s, greeting both dogs just as easily. “He’s not home yet?”

  “And not answering his phone.” Tiff crossed her arms above her tummy. Had the mound dropped since yesterday?

  “I’m sure his flight was just delayed or something. Do you have his flight information?” Ryker asked. “I could look it up for you.”

  “We did that already,” she said. “Seemed to be some bad weather on the connections so we aren’t sure…he might still be in New York for all we know.”

  Ryker put his arm around Tiffany. “Ah, his phone probably isn’t charged, that’s all. Can I distract you with a game of Christmas Uno?”

  “Uno?” Serenity said.

  “A card game. My family cheats, but what can you do?”

  Tiffany giggled.

  Serenity relaxed her tense shoulders. It was good to have Ryker here. “Can I make you a plate of macaroni and cheese? Ketchup optional.” She pointed to her pregnant sister. “I don’t know what happened to her taste buds.”

  ***

  Ryker set his pile of gifts on the coffee table by the Christmas tree. Eight-foot and fresh-cut, it had an evergreen smell you couldn’t replicate with an artificial tree. He saw their presents still wrapped underneath it, and a mound of empty chocolate kisses foils.

  “Macaroni and cheese sounds great—I haven’t had that in years.” He turned to Serenity, who had her hair swept back in a messy bun, kept in place with a toy icicle. “I thought you couldn’t cook.”

  “What I can do is follow a recipe,” she said. “I don’t have the magic touch, but I won’t starve, or starve Tiff. Oh!” She practically skipped into the kitchen, and he stayed on her heels. “I saved you a plate of cookies, as promised. Tiffany is incredible. Try those.” Serenity motioned to the ginger snaps drizzled in chocolate.

  She peeled back a film of green cling wrap. He chose the one she suggested and took a bite. Ginger and cocoa, with a hint of molasses. “Great job, Tiff! You could sell these.”

  Tiffany called from the living room, “That would take all the fun out of it.”

  Serenity surprised him by wiping her thumb across his lower lip. “Cocoa.”

  His entire lower half roused to life. Not fair, what she could do to him with just a touch.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, eyes sparkling, her mouth pink and kissable.

  “I took a chance that you’d be home.”

  “Why didn’t you call?” She re-covered the cookies.

  “It was a spur of the moment thing.” He hadn’t wanted her to tell him no.

  “With gifts?” Her brow arched.

  “I bought those last week. Today’s the day your family celebrates.”

  “Sweet that you remember that.” She set the plate on the counter. “How was your family get-together?”

  “Mom bought Dad a new TV, that I helped her surprise him with. For once he really had no idea. He bet my brother Toby it was golf clubs.”

  “Success!” She giggled and the sound made him smile.

  “Yeah. I bought them a new cabinet to put it in, so they were happy all around.”

  “How are your sisters and brother?”

  “Really good. They say hello.”

  She put her hand to her chest. “They do? Well, do the same for me. It’s nice they remember me.”

  Serenity had no idea the friction her name brought up in his family. His fault for breaking them up—nobody had believed that their love would last since they’d fallen in love so completely, so young. She didn’t need to know any of that.

  They
stood across from each other in the kitchen, the silence heavy, laden with possibility. He cleared his throat. “Mac and cheese?”

  She ducked away with a self-conscious grin. “Coming right up.”

  “Did you talk to your mom?”

  “Duty’s done. We’ve just been taking it easy, trying not to worry. We might take you up on that card game. I am just about Christmas-movied out.”

  “I’m here to serve,” he joked.

  She faced him; her expression so serious that he feared what she might say. “You make a great fireman because you care about your community. And Santa—getting your picture taken even though you hate it. And leader, organizing clean-up events.”

  Serenity opened the cupboard, her back to him. He was glad because he was embarrassed by her compliments. She dished some pasta and cheese onto a plate and nuked it in the microwave for two minutes. “I’m just an average guy.”

  “No, you’re not. You believe in things and live them, Ryker. That’s more than most people do.” She opened the fridge. “Beer, or wine? Hot cocoa with schnapps?”

  “Yep—I’ll have one of those.”

  The timer dinged, and they both reached for the handle, their fingers touching with a shock that wasn’t caused by the microwave. It was them. Together. She pulled back.

  He took the plate, and she handed him a fork, then made him his spiked cocoa.

  “Follow me,” she said, leading the way into the living room, the icicle in her hair catching the light from the Christmas trees.

  Tiffany’s belly was a mountain beneath a plaid blanket from her corner of the couch. She flicked off the TV. “No ketchup?” she said sassily.

  “None for me,” he laughed. He shared stories about his family’s Christmas and the savory sweet ham his mom had made, which had caused an hour discussion over whether or not meat should be both. One or the other, Toby thought. He was fine either way. He did his best to be a distraction for their worry over Jonas.