"I got this one last year," Celia said pulling out a small nativity set that hung from a gold ribbon, grinning as it swung back and forth, the glitter on the roof catching the lights already on the tree branches.
The sight dipped into my soul.
I had bought that ornament for her, and shipped it to Jer and Fran's place, struggling not to feel the sting of my brother’s rejection when he suggested that I not come.
"It's a beautiful ornament," I said.
Celia gave me a shy smile. "My mommy told me you got it for me."
I bit back a gulp of surprise that she remembered. "I did buy it for you. Do you know why?"
She shook her head.
"That ornament is called a nativity scene. It shows Mary, Joseph, and Baby Jesus." I pointed each tiny figure out to her. "I wanted you to remember that Christmas is all about Jesus' birth. Christmas is Jesus' birthday."
I had wanted to send so much more but Francine and Jerrod said too many gifts from me would only confuse her. I had tried to tell them that I was her aunt as well, but in the end figured it wasn’t worth the battle.
"Happy birthday, baby Jesus," she said, swinging the ornament back and forth, her smile growing.
"Happy birthday indeed," I repeated, thinking that this Christmas I could buy her whatever I wanted. The thought tantalized me with visions of brightly wrapped parcels. Of gifts piled under a tree.
And if you quit your job? What will you buy all those presents with?
I shook the thought off. It hadn’t come to that, though my practical self knew I couldn’t leave Gillian dangling any longer.
But I also knew I couldn’t leave Celia. Not yet. It had been difficult enough to think of leaving a few days ago.
And now? Could I walk away after everything that has happened between my daughter and me?
Between Duncan and me?
"Let's sort out the rest of the ornaments,” I said, pushing my thoughts aside. “And you can pick which ones go on this tree and which ones you want on the tree in your bedroom."
"Did you find the star for the top of the tree?" Duncan asked, joining us by the boxes. "I'll put it up right away."
"I think this is it," I said, holding up a glittery, five-point star and handing it to him. His smile was casual, but when his fingers brushed mine I felt anything but.
"We should have Christmas music playing while we do this," Duncan said, his smile deepening. Then he turned to the bookshelf that flanked the fireplace and turned on the stereo. He fiddled with the controls and suddenly rap music bounced out of the speakers. "Oops. Sorry." He squelched the heavy bass beat and chattering lyrics, then a few moments later, the soft strains of Silent Night floated out of the stereo. "That's more like it," he said.
"How did you do that?" I asked, quite impressed.
"I have the same system," he said, adjusting the volume. "Mom and Dad got them for us last year for Christmas, and Esther pre-programmed some internet stations on them. I took a guess and figured Francine and Jerrod hadn't changed theirs either." His expression held shadows of sorrow. "Like you said when we went riding, we'll be bumping up against these memories again and again. We may as well get used to it." He pulled in a slow breath, then picked up some of the ornaments. "Are these going on the tree?"
I nodded and he handed a couple to Celia. "Here, sweetie. Help me put them on."
As we worked, the music laid a festive counterpoint, filling the room with carols. Though no one talked while we worked, we shared a companionable silence. A gentle acknowledgement of our loss. I let my thoughts drift back to happy Christmases at the Carpenter household. How thoroughly I absorbed and took in every small tradition, storing them away in my memory box.
And now I was making another one.
When it was all done, we stood back from the tree, the spinning ornaments refracting the lights strung in the branches.
"It's beautiful," I breathed, filled with a sense of wonder.
"I love our tree," Celia said, hugging Jane, her eyes bright. "And I'm so excited for Christmas. I hope Mommy buys me a bike." Then she stopped and she shot us a panicked glance. Her lip quivered and tears glistened in her eyes as realization dawned.
Then, to my surprise, she ran directly to me, flinging her arms around me. "I miss my mommy and daddy," she cried. I knelt down and hugged her tight, rocking her, giving her unspoken encouragement to let her tears flow, just as we had in the forest. And, as before, Duncan knelt down beside me and placed his large arms around us both.
We stayed that way a moment longer, and in spite of my sorrow and Celia's pain, I felt a quickening of my breath as the memory of that moment amongst the trees drifted into my thoughts. When I almost kissed this man again.
Celia was the first to draw away, and she swiped at her tears with the palm of her hand. "Am I still getting presents?" she asked, her child's mind quickly shifting gears.
"Of course you are," Duncan said, his voice gruff as he smoothed his hand over her hair. "In fact, I think we should go shopping this week. For some presents. Would you like that?"
Celia nodded vigorously. "Can we go tomorrow?"
"Maybe not tomorrow. I should get some work done," Duncan said, getting to his feet. He held his hand out to help me up and I took it, his large callused palm easily engulfing mine. He gave my hand a light squeeze and added a smile. "But we can go at the end of the week if that's okay with you?"
The thought held more appeal than it should. Spending time with Duncan was getting to be a habit I could get dangerously used to.
He didn't let go of my hand and instead gave it a little tug. "What do you think, Miriam?"
I swallowed down a curious anticipation. "I think that's a good idea."
And what about Gillian? What about your job?
I felt a sense of resignation. I couldn’t find any way around quitting. I couldn't expect Gillian to hold my job any longer. All I could do was hope for a good recommendation from her. I would need every ounce of goodwill on my quest for a new job when I got back to Vancouver.
Celia danced toward the tree to show Jane the lights and while her back was to us, Duncan shifted just a little closer to me, his arm brushing mine. "I'm glad you pushed me to spend time with Celia," he said. "Because it means I also get to spend more time with you."
I couldn't say anything. But I knew I felt exactly the same way.
"We should…should probably clean up," I managed past the thickness in my throat.
"Let's do that." Then, to my surprise and shock, he bent down and brushed a kiss over my forehead.
He swept up the remaining ornaments and dropped them in a box while I stayed, rooted to the spot, still trying to decide what to do.
Enjoy being with him. Maybe this time around things will end differently.
The voice teased me with the lost possibilities of our first meeting.
Was this really a chance to do that over? Had God really brought us together again?
And what would Duncan think when he finds out the truth?
I grabbed the other box and closed the flaps on it while my heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and concern. I needed to tell him.
Just not yet. Not yet.
Chapter 14
"Are you sure you don't need any help?" I asked, as Esther took another sip of her coffee. She sat at the eating bar while I cleaned up the dishes from breakfast. Christmas music floated through the house. Combined with the pervasive scent of the spruce tree, the house held a festive air that chased away the gloom of the past couple of weeks.
Celia was up in her bedroom, trying to decide which clothes she wanted to keep and which to throw away. I had told her we would be cleaning her room today while Aunt Esther worked downstairs.
"It's better if I go through Jerrod's office myself before the lawyer does. I know what I'm looking for…I mean, what I'm doing," she said, clutching the coffee mug. It seemed to me that she wasn't looking forward to the job.
When she called this morning to say she was comin
g to clean the office I was grateful to leave that job to her. After spending the past week sorting and bagging Francine's and Jerrod's clothes and personal items, cleaning out the rest of the house, I was emotionally exhausted. With each picture and knick-knack I packed, each item of clothing I put away, the few memories I had returned. The sweater I sent Francine for Christmas one year that I agonized over for days then justified the cost by reminding myself she was the mother of my daughter. An old volleyball T-shirt I couldn't believe Jerrod had kept from his high school years. All brought back painful memories.
"Did you want to go through any of Francine and Jerrod's things that I've bagged?" I asked, leaning back against the island as I nursed my freshly brewed coffee. "See what you might want?"
Esther chewed her lip, as if thinking, one finger toying with her blonde hair. "Maybe another time," she said giving me a pained smile. "Did you go through the pockets? Did you found anything important?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," I said, wondering what she meant.
"Okay. But just don't give them away yet."
"Oh, no. Of course not. I've been moving everything downstairs." One corner of the basement was filled with bags and boxes, all labeled. I wasn't sure where things would go from there or who would do it.
Esther toyed with her mug as she shook her head. "This has been a rotten couple of weeks," she said, clenching the handle of her mug. "I’ll be taking some time off school. So I can help Duncan with Celia,” she said giving me a vague smile. "I'm glad he helped you get a Christmas tree."
"We had a great time and Celia really enjoyed herself. I’m sure she’s redecorated her tree a dozen times."
"That’s cute. I hope he can find the time to take her shopping."
"He is. In fact, on Friday he's taking Celia and me to the mall in Edmonton."
"Both of you?" She sounded surprised. “He didn't say anything to me.”
"That’s what he told me." I tried not to blush at the thought. With each moment we spent together, my emotions grew more confused. It was like the years between Jerrod and Francine's wedding and now had faded away, and we were simply building on the attraction we felt then.
That was a more innocent time.
And yet, I felt as if Duncan and I were being given another chance.
You need to tell him everything.
"That's…surprising that’s he’s taking you along," Esther said, her tone puzzling.
"It's about a smooth transition," I said, playing things close, still unsure of my next move.
"I suppose, but I think it's important that Duncan spend some time with Celia on his own as well."
"He will."
"And when will you be leaving?"
"I'm not sure."
Last night, after Duncan was gone and Celia in bed, I made the fateful call to my boss. I couldn’t leave her hanging any longer so I told her I was quitting. Gillian was more than gracious and promised me a glowing reference for my next employer.
I hated the uncertainty this brought into my life but right now my priority was Celia.
Christine was next. Thankfully she assured me she wouldn't sublet my room, though she had teased me that she was selling my paintings to pay my share of the rent while I was gone. I laughed and told her to go ahead.
"I want to make sure that Celia is settled, and that Duncan is ready to take on the responsibility," I continued.
"You don’t have to worry about that now that I’m moving home.”
“Will you go back to school? Once things settle down?”
“Not sure,” Esther said. “Since Jerrod and Francine's death I haven't been able to concentrate. I haven't been doing well all term. "Too much on my mind, and now, with Jerrod gone. Francine gone—" Her voice broke, and she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, jerking her arm away when I tried to touch her in sympathy. "Sorry. I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay. You've had a lot to deal with."
"Too much. I need a break and some time to reassess my life. Figure out what I want to do." She walked over to the box of tissues on the top of the refrigerator and tugged a few out, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. She muttered an 'excuse me' as she pulled open the cupboard beside me and tossed them in the garbage. She sucked in a shaky breath, then gave me a trembling smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I better get to work." She walked past me and closed the door behind herself. Then I heard the distinctive click of the lock. She really wanted to be on her own.
My cell phone rang right then, so I wasn't able to think any more on that.
"Hey Christine," I said, as I jogged up the stairs to Celia's room. "What can I do for you?"
"So after you lost your job I figured you could use a win. So …I kinda stuck my neck out and sold one of your paintings.”
"What? Where…who…how…" My brain was having trouble processing her words. “Already?”
"I sold it online. On Kijiji. To some guy who lives in Nanaimo."
"What? Kijiji? Are you kidding me?" I stopped in the middle of the hallway, trying to sort out what my friend was telling me.
"It was easier than listing it on eBay, and I wanted to avoid Craigslist. This way, I can sell to someone local and not worry about shipping."
"You seriously sold one of my paintings?"
"We talked about this." She sounded uncertain. “You said I should.”
"We joked about it. You joked about it. It was a joke."
"Oh." Christine went quiet. "I mentioned it when I said I wouldn't sublet your room. Then you laughed so I thought it was okay."
"You sold one of my paintings." I leaned against the hallway wall, still trying to wrap my head around what she had done.
"I don't know why you're so upset. You said you weren't attached."
"I'm not…it's just…you sold one of my paintings."
"I think we established that. Look, if it bugs you that much, I can tell the guy that I changed my mind. He's coming tonight. And he even asked if I had more paintings."
I scraped my hand through my hair, still surprised and somewhat stunned. I had done the paintings as therapy. Because Jerrod and Francine had discouraged visits, the paintings became a way of creating a fantasy life for Celia. They were sweet. Cute. An expression of my dreams and inner longings for my little girl.
"So how much did you ask?"
"A thousand bucks."
"What? A thousand?”
"Not enough?"
"A thousand." I couldn’t wrap my head around that amount.
"I Googled other paintings like yours and they were going into the mid four figures so I figured I could easy ask a grand."
"Wow. I didn't think anyone would be interested in them."
"If you want, I can put a couple more up tonight. See what happens."
"Sure. Okay." I was still trying to understand this. I hadn't painted or sketched seriously for the past couple of years.
"So can I try to sell all of them?"
"There's only about ten or fifteen more."
"So you should make more. This could totally be a thing for you. A way to make a few bucks. You could set up a website. Sell from there. Shopify here we come!"
I tried to ignore her chitchat but at the same time I couldn’t dismiss it completely. “I’m pretty stoked about this,” I said. “I’ll need the bucks now that I’m out of a job.”
“You’ll get another one. I know Gillian was crazy about you.” She was quiet a moment. “And I’m sure with the other thing…you’ll find someone else willing to take you on.”
We both knew what the ‘other thing’ was. I had been completely up front with her from the beginning about my time in prison. Once I told her how it happened, she understood completely. Turned out I wasn’t the only one with a lousy boyfriend. We had that much in common.
I just had never told her about Celia. There was only so much ‘heart-to-heart’ that I could indulge in.
“And you’ll have time to paint. Be all inspired by the great outdoors you’re i
n,” she enthused.
“I’m not staying, remember?”
She was quiet a moment. “Really? You won’t even consider it?”
Thoughts of Duncan followed her questions.
“I saw the picture you sent me of the Christmas tree gathering. That Duncan is quite the hottie. And such a cozy little scenario. Going out to get a Christmas tree together. You could paint that." Christine's comment was heavy with innuendo.
I wanted to tell her it wasn't what she thought, but I would be lying.
"So, anything happening with you two, or am I being tacky again?"
"Celia was with us as well. And I have to be smart about all this.”
“You're thinking about Celia, aren't you?” Christine asked.
"I'm always thinking about Celia." And didn't I sound sober and full of good judgment instead of the woman who lay awake last night thinking less about Celia and more about Duncan.
And what to do about the shift in our relationship.
"Honey, I know you want the best for her and I know you don't think you're that best, but don't discount what you can give to her. To other people. You have a really good heart and you're a loving person. I want you to be happy and I think you deserve it."
Each word Christine leveled at me underlined my own struggles, and at the same time, nourished my soul. "I have to keep my priorities straight. What I want and what Celia needs—"
"Celia needs a mother. The woman who adopted her is dead. I know she’s only your niece but right now you're all she has," Christine said.
"My mom was all I had for awhile,” I said trying not to get defensive at the ‘only your niece’ comment. Christine didn’t know.
“You aren’t your mom. Gracious girl. You’re nothing like her. She was so selfish; bouncing you back and forth, wanting you then pushing you away. You’re not like that.” Christine sounded angry which gave my soul a much-needed lift.
“Besides, I'm not all Celia has. She has family and community. She's in a good place."
"But you seem like you’re in a good place. I know you sound happier than you have in a while."
I felt a quieting in my chest that echoed her words. "You sound like you're trying to talk me out of coming back,” I said with a light laugh.
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