This Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  From the other room, Phoebe released another peal of laughter. Jules frowned into her coffee mug.

  “You and Carrie seemed to be getting along last night at the Ice Fest,” Jules ventured to say. Already she felt better shifting the topic onto her sisters’ problems instead of thinking about her own.

  Tess pursed her lips as she scraped batter into cupcake tins. “It’s all relative. It’s not like I’ve forgiven her. How can I?”

  Jules decided that she had tiptoed around the subject long enough. It was time to end this standoff once and for all. “Is it the fact that she couldn’t come to the funeral or the reason behind it that has you so upset?”

  Tess set the tin of cupcakes into the oven and set the timer. She tossed Jules a look of irritation over her shoulder. “Couldn’t come? Come on, Jules. We both know she wouldn’t come.”

  “Carrie hates funerals.”

  “Who doesn’t?” Tess’s eyes were wide.

  “And after Mom…Well, she never came back here.”

  “She barely visited before that,” Tess said.

  “I think she feels guilty about that,” Jules said. Before Tess could protest, she said, “Carrie wasn’t as tough as us, Tess, and you know that. Being around Mom stirred up hard feelings, and then, when she died, well, it’s easy to think about what might have been.”

  Tess sighed. “We all know that our mother was who she was. There was nothing we could have done to make things any different.”

  “But you were there. You stuck around. You supported her.” Jules thought about that for a moment. Tess had never thrown that in their faces. Never expected help, even then. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have welcomed it.

  “I should have come back more often too,” Jules said. “I’m sorry.”

  “You were alone with Mom the longest,” Tess said. “Besides, you were in college most of those final years.”

  “I was still capable of helping,” Jules said, hearing the pitch in her tone.

  “You know what I’m saying,” Tess said, looking at her squarely. Jules felt her shoulders soften. She was getting defensive again. Maybe all Tess meant was that she supported her staying in Boston. “Besides, I was happy here.” Tess looked down at her hands and the room fell silent.

  There was so much that Jules wanted to do in that moment. Walk over and pull her sister in for a hug, tell her that she was going to be okay, that she wasn’t alone. But Tess didn’t like being on the receiving end of that kind of thing.

  “Carrie took Mom’s death hard. She was gone the longest and…coming back here hasn’t been easy for her.”

  Tess was shaking her head. “It’s not a good enough reason. And you and I both know that the reason she wasn’t here was because of Lucas.”

  The sisters shared a look. Now it was Jules’s turn to purse her lips.

  “Do you think they’ll end up together?” They’d been dating forever but there hadn’t been any actual talk of marriage that Jules was aware of, and she was pretty certain that Carrie wanted to get married and have about half a dozen kids.

  She wanted the storybook life. Just like Tess.

  And Jules…Well, Jules didn’t know what she wanted. She just knew, like both of her sisters, that she wanted something different than what she’d had before.

  “What are you guys talking about?”

  Jules turned to see Carrie standing in the doorway. She opened her mouth to say something, a polite excuse, but Tess surprised her by saying, “We were just talking about you, actually.”

  Carrie and Jules exchanged a look and Jules let out a long sigh. Here it goes, she thought. She wondered if it would be too obvious if she grabbed her coffee and headed into the family room to watch a Christmas movie with Phoebe. It was tempting.

  But if her presence might help repair the relationship between Tess and Carrie once and for all, then she supposed it was worth sticking around. Because more than anything this Christmas, she just wanted something in her life to be certain.

  “Carrie,” she said, feeling more like a therapist than the kid sister. “Maybe it would help if you could explain why you weren’t able to make it to town last winter. Because I do know that you wanted to be here.” She gave a meaningful look at Tess, who didn’t seem to soften at all in her stance.

  Carrie nodded and then looked at Tess. If Jules didn’t know better, she might say that Carrie had gulped.

  “I did want to be here,” Carrie said pleadingly. “But you knew that Lucas was making partner at his firm. There was a big dinner. People flew in from the West Coast office and everything. It wouldn’t have looked right if I wasn’t there.”

  “And it looked okay that you weren’t there for me?” Tess stared at her. “You loved Andrew, Carrie.”

  Jules sipped her coffee. There was really nothing to say to this. Carrie had chosen Lucas over her sister. She’d made her choice.

  “I did love Andrew. And I love you. But you…you never needed me, Tess. Even when Mom died, it was me needing you. You taking care of Jules. I thought that Lucas needed me more.”

  Tess’s face was tight with anger, but she said nothing.

  “You understand, don’t you, Jules?” Carrie turned to her. “I mean, you’re not mad at me.”

  Jules did understand, even if she didn’t agree. “I’m not mad at you, but I guess it isn’t the choice that I would have made.”

  Carrie narrowed her eyes. “Well, that’s easy for you to say because your longest relationship with a man was Cole Dempsey and you were eighteen.”

  Jules stared at Carrie in shock, but she knew that there was nothing to say to that. Still, this sudden flash of anger wasn’t like Carrie, even when it came to Lucas, who seemed to trigger a defensive side of Carrie. A nervous side.

  “Nothing other than illness or airport closures and roadblocks would have stopped me from being here for Tess,” Jules said firmly. Even, she thought a little sadly, if her presence wasn’t wanted.

  “Lucas’s job is important to him. He worked hard for that promotion. Another thing I can’t expect you to understand,” Carrie said, rolling her eyes.

  Jules stepped back, as if she’d been slapped. The hurt of losing her job was fresh, and all she could think was that she was right not to have mentioned it—to expect them to understand.

  “Jules understands that a family event trumps jobs and boyfriends, Carrie,” Tess said, and Jules felt her chest warm at Tess rising to her defense.

  “Well, you won’t have to worry about Lucas anymore,” Carrie said with a huff. And then, inexplicably, shockingly, she burst into tears. Long, heaving tears that left her gulping for air and her hands trembling as they came to her face.

  Tess and Jules exchanged mutual looks of horror, the argument they were having, the hurtful words and accusations, all but forgotten.

  “He dumped me!” Carrie wailed. “I thought he was going to propose and he dumped me! And then I saw him with another girl and she was…she was…”

  Jules wasn’t sure when she had last blinked. She leaned forward in her chair. Her heart was racing.

  “She was?” She was what? Pregnant? Her mind raced with possibilities.

  “She was wearing the scarf I bought him for Christmas last year!” Carrie sobbed, and her shoulders began to shake as she cried louder.

  “Oh, jeez.” Jules stood up and took Carrie into her arms while Tess walked to the bathroom for a box of tissue. It took a few minutes, but eventually they had Carrie seated at the island, a balled-up tissue in one hand, her sobbing subsided to a few sniffles.

  “I thought he was going to propose. He wanted to have a special dinner. It was…” Cue another round of choked sobbing sounds. When she had finally calmed down enough to speak, she said in a whisper of complete disbelief, “It was our four-year anniversary.”

  “What a jerk,” Jules said, narrowing her eyes. Her heart began to race with newfound resolve. “See, this is exactly why I don’t get involved with anyone seriously. You never know
when they’re going to up and leave you. Just like…” She saw Tess flash her a warning glance and she stopped talking, but it was too late.

  “Like Dad?” Carrie shook her head miserably and brought a soggy wad of tissue to her eyes. “I thought Lucas was different. I thought he loved me,” she said miserably.

  Tess pulled in a breath and walked around the island to sit on the third stool. “Carrie, the man strung you along for four years. At your age, no offense. That’s not love. That’s…Well, it’s a lot of things, and none of them are good.”

  “We never liked Lucas anyway,” Jules said. Damn, it felt good to finally say it aloud. To not have to pretend to be anything other than completely annoyed every time Carrie spoke his name, which she did, incessantly, and only in the most positive reference. Lucas was training for the Boston Marathon. Lucas was on track to make partner at his firm. Lucas had surprised her with flowers, again.

  But what she didn’t say was what was so deeply obvious—like how Lucas had only given her flowers because he’d let her down again by not inviting her on his annual spring vacation to Cancun. Nope, that was a “guys only” trip. Or that Lucas was only focused on his career and had once referred to Carrie’s job as “babysitting” or that Lucas went quiet every time Carrie so much as mentioned a love for children or a desire to have any. Or that training for a marathon meant more time away from Carrie, but that he expected her to be available any time he called or texted and would become strangely offended if she didn’t pick up or respond right away.

  “You didn’t like Lucas?” Carrie looked completely affronted, and for a moment Jules almost regretted saying anything, until she saw the red brim of Carrie’s eyes, and the blotchy spots on her cheeks. This man had done her sister wrong. And Carrie should not be crying over him.

  “No one liked Lucas,” Jules said flatly.

  Carrie blinked, and then glanced at Tess, who just grimaced in return.

  “But…but you never said anything before!” Carrie frowned into her wadded-up tissue.

  “What were we supposed to say?” Tess finally said. “You adored Lucas. And you were happy. And well, that’s all we wanted for you. But—”

  “But we didn’t think Lucas really made you happy,” Jules said. “You thought you were happy, but you weren’t. You were desperate to hold on to him, Carrie. It shouldn’t be that way.”

  Carrie grew silent for a few minutes as this sunk in. “I guess I was afraid of losing him. It felt too much like…Well, like losing Dad. I guess I just thought if I stayed close to him, I wouldn’t have to worry. That he’d stay. That we’d have a life together. That we’d be happy.” She started to cry again.

  “Oh, Carrie.” Tess frowned deeply, and if Jules didn’t know better, she thought she saw a hint of forgiveness in her eyes.

  “You were right.” Carrie sniffed and looked straight at Tess. “I didn’t leave Lucas last winter when you needed me. I could have. And I didn’t. Because…”

  “Because you trusted me enough to know that I would always be there, always love you. No matter what.”

  And she’d never trusted Lucas, Jules thought, knowing that Tess saw it too. But did Carrie?

  Carrie nodded. “I hurt the person who mattered most.”

  Tess reached out and squeezed Carrie’s hand. “You made your decision from a place of fear. I know. I was there when Dad left. I know how hard it was on you. On all of us.” She glanced at Jules, who looked away and shifted on her seat. She didn’t like hearing her sisters talk about their father. She was the only one who couldn’t picture a memory of him, whose life felt no different before he’d left and after he’d gone. She’d just been a toddler—her entire life had been lived without him. He didn’t know her favorite color. Or that she used to fill journals in her free time. He didn’t know about the time she skinned her knee falling off her bike, and he wasn’t in the audience when she’d won the writing award senior year. But he was there at some point.

  And she couldn’t even remember it.

  “I’m sorry, Tess,” Carrie said.

  “I know you are,” Tess said, giving her a smile.

  Jules knew she should be relieved. After all, her sisters had made up. But she couldn’t help wondering where that left her.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tess

  With the help of Carrie, Jules, and Phoebe, Tess managed to bake, decorate, and transport fifteen dozen cupcakes safely to the Winter Lake Town Hall the next afternoon. They were all exhausted from staying up late and waking early, but they were all smiling by the time they reached the stand reserved for her, complete with a tented piece of cardboard bearing her name: Tess Campbell Butler. Once the name had felt like her past and her future, all tied neatly in a bow. The two sides of her, brought together. Now she didn’t see two sides. She didn’t see a future either. She saw a past only, in its entirety.

  Tess smiled at her tablemates and carefully arranged the cupcakes in what she hoped was a pleasing presentation. She set the extras under the table, just in case she got lucky and needed to tap into her reserve stash. Grinning, she watched her daughter’s eyes gleam at the display of cut-cookies on the table next to hers. Mrs. Irwin, who taught piano here in town, outdid herself every year with her decorations. This year she’d managed to make ornament-shaped cookies that appeared to have colorful stained glass in the center.

  “Can you really eat that?” Phoebe asked, her eyes wide.

  “It’s pure sugar, so yes, you can!” Mrs. Irwin smiled.

  Phoebe considered this for a moment and then shook her head. “They’re too pretty to eat. I’d rather hang one on my tree.”

  The sisters laughed at that, even Tess, and for once she wasn’t filled with that immediate instinct to tell Andrew what had happened, and the lonely realization that she couldn’t do that anymore. She had her sisters to share the moment with. And that felt pretty darn good.

  She pulled in a breath. Baby steps. One day at a time. That’s what all the books said. She had made the cupcakes. She had even turned on the tree lights this morning, without Phoebe having to ask her to do it. She was here. She was even wearing a red cashmere sweater and gold earrings. And lipstick.

  Tonight was going to be a good night. That was all she could hope for.

  “Do you need any help?” Carrie asked, reaching down to take Phoebe’s hands. She was one step ahead of Phoebe—she saw those curious hands reaching for an ornament cookie before Tess could even speak up.

  She was a good teacher, Tess knew. And she’d make an even better mother. And now that she was finally free of Lucas, maybe she actually stood a chance at having some children of her own one day.

  Tess pushed aside the twinge she felt when she thought of her own future, which didn’t feel half as promising at the moment.

  Still, she thought, looking at Phoebe. She had her little girl. And that was enough. It would have to be.

  “I think I’m all set here, but you guys might want to get a head start on the rounds before all the good items are taken,” she said, giving Jules a knowing look. They could never forget the year they’d been late to arrive, because their mother couldn’t find her keys and had all but turned the house upside down looking for them, claimed they weren’t going in a fit of frustration, while the girls sat near the door, in boots and coats and hats, waiting, and overheating. It was only once they’d finally taken off all their winter gear and wiped away their tears of disappointment that their mother announced she had found the keys. They were in the refrigerator all along.

  They’d been stuck with what wasn’t wanted, things that had been passed over again and again, like poor Mary Claire Keaton’s fruit cake and Sabrina McBride’s overly tart and seasonally inappropriate lemon bars.

  “You’ll have to rein me in,” Jules said, her eyes lighting up as they always did anytime that sugar presented itself.

  “Let’s start with these,” Carrie said, pointing at the ornament cookies. Tess knew that she wasn’t just being polite eith
er. The cookies were gorgeous, and she had no doubt that they tasted every bit as good as they looked.

  “We deserve something special,” Carrie said, looking over to give Tess a small smile. It was something that Tess used to say to her on the darker days, when their mother hadn’t emerged from bed, or Carrie was missing their father. Tess would be busy in the kitchen, of course, baking away her troubles, and she’d bring a plate of her creations into Carrie, even if it was late, or even if they hadn’t had a proper dinner yet. “We deserve something special,” she’d say. And no matter how bad they were feeling, they always smiled. And they always felt a little better after that.

  Tess felt her eyes brim as she watched her sisters carefully help Phoebe pick the best cookies on the display table and then move on to scour the room for the rest of the offerings. Tess remembered the cranberry jam from Wilson’s Farm that she always stocked up on and opened her mouth to call out, but it was too late. They’d walked too far and the room was filling up. They’d never hear.

  “Well, look at this.” Jeff walked up to her table and shook his head in awe at the display. It was one of her better offerings, even she had to agree. Last year she’d been too busy tending to last-minute shopping and Andrew’s company holiday party and her volunteer hours at the school to make more than three flavors. This year, she had made five. Three dozen of each. Carrie had tasted all of them and given them her stamp of approval. Well, with the exception of the candy cane cupcake. Something to do with a new aversion to peppermint…

  “I was busy,” she admitted.

  He met her eyes. They were blue and warm. So unlike Andrew’s dark brown eyes, but somehow, recently, just as comforting.

  “Good. I like to hear that.” He held up a brown paper bag. “Before I forget. Something tells me you’ll be too busy tonight to make the rounds.”

  Curious, Tess took the bag, aware of Mrs. Irwin’s eyes on her the entire time. She looked inside, expecting to see a paper cup of coffee, judging by the weight of the bag, but inside were two jars of Wilson’s cranberry Christmas jam.