Chapter 19 #2
She was still muttering beneath her breath about this Sophia person on her way into the living room, occasionally pausing to blow at the steam rising from her mug.
Nan settled into the black easy chair that was covered with purple and gray blankets.
It was Gage’s favorite and the one he tended to nap in most often, especially when he claimed to just be resting his eyes as he listened to the Voice.
His connection to the music industry was still strong enough that he enjoyed seeing who had the potential to be the next big thing, though that didn’t mean he always made it through an episode, especially if Zachy or Song curled up in his lap and decided to nap on him.
With Nan and Ms. Lottie in the easy chairs, Zachy and Song chose to sprawl in their giant beanbag chairs, blankets drawn up around them as they settled in to listen to stories, both so excited they wiggled around impatiently, though they were otherwise well-behaved.
Thinking of how far he and Zachy had come since initially meeting online made him proud of the progress they’d made, both individually and as a unit.
They’d grown in vastly different ways, all of them ones that had made the bond between them stronger and taught them what a daddy-boy relationship could be when they worked together and communicated with one another when something was going wrong or someone’s needs weren’t being met.
Watching Zachy stare up at his Nana with a look of wonderment and anticipation on his face, Cooper got a better appreciation for how difficult it had to have been for Zachy when he’d been playing the part of the villain on his show and not been allowed to join in the fun the other characters were having.
“Well now, seeing as it’s almost Christmas, I think I’ll share one in the spirit of the season,” Nan said as she set her mug on a coaster on the end of the table beside her, then folded her hands in her lap.
“It’s an old story, one I heard while seated on the floor beside my grandfather’s knee, in the little New England fishing village where I grew up, not too far from where the story was said to take place. ”
“So it’s real then?” Zachy asked.
“I believe so, though details of the storm may have been slightly embellished,” she admitted.
“You mean like the way you used to say that you had to walk through the cold and snow uphill every day to get to school and only missed class when the bridge over the creek got washed away?” Zachy asked.
“No, that story was real, sweetheart. Whoever built that school did their level best to ensure that it never flooded, but they didn’t think about how hard it would be for little legs to climb to the top on a snowy day.
It was far more fun sliding down it and rocketing across the frozen creek on our sleds.
That was always the best part of the day for me, that and any afternoon when it wasn’t too cold to go fishing. ”
Her love of fishing had been highlighted in several video chats, as she and Ms. Lottie had shown off the fruits of their labors and tantalized them through the video screen with garlic butter bass and succulent trout grilled in an old cast iron pan.
Cooper could almost hear it crackling just thinking about group chats he’d been lucky enough to be home in time for.
A few he’d even risked dropping into at work, deeming it a well-deserved break from the blueprints and plans he’d been going over for the firm’s latest project.
“The story, if I remember correctly, takes place in a small fishing village overlooking the ocean,” Nan began.
“A remote place, damp, foggy, but home to a community of people who loved and looked out for the other. Newcomers were rare, but when they did arrive, they were made welcome and looked after as treasured friends.”
She paused to take a sip, watching over the rim of her mug as all of us, even Ms. Lottie, who’d no doubt been there when Nan heard the story, leaned closer, eagerly anticipating where the story was headed and what was in store for the village.
“One spring, a candymaker came to town and opened a wonderful shop, right in the middle of Main Street. Day and night he filled the window with beautiful confections, and the children flocked in, spending their allowance money on bags of treats he always dropped a few extra into. Meanwhile, next door to the new candy shop, another beautiful store window was taking shape, this one full of toys that had all the children oohing and awing every time he added a new one.”
Nan paused again for another sip, but the magic of the story was already weaving its way through the room, mingling with the Christmas lights glittering on the tree and the gingerbread garland hanging everywhere.
“Working side by side meant that the toymaker and the candy store owner saw a lot of one another,” Nan continued.
“They greeted each other in the mornings as they swept the snow from in front of their shops and, in the course of their work, discovered that there was a long-forgotten door leading between the two shops. Working from both sides, they cleaned the dust and grime away so they could open it and chat while they worked. In the afternoons, they started sharing lunch together, telling stories of their homelands and sharing the tales of how they’d come to be in the village. ”
Another pause, another sip, then several more as Nan sighed and savored her peppermint schnapps-spiked drink.
“One day, as they were enjoying a blend of coffee mixed with a rich chocolate syrup the candymaker had crafted for them, they saw the sky begin to darken as storm clouds rolled in from off the ocean. The streets, which had been teeming with life earlier in the day, grew empty as everyone sought shelter. Fearing the damage a powerful storm could do to the large glass windowpanes on the front of each shop, they worked together to board them all up, and then the toymaker invited the candymaker upstairs to ride out the storm together over a meal and more storytelling.”
“Nice,” Song murmured. “Storms are more fun when you’re with people you enjoy spending time with.”
“Yes, they sure are, aren’t they?” Ms. Lottie said, smiling fondly over at Nan, who met her gaze and beamed right back at her.
The love they shared was a living, breathing, tangible thing; like static electricity, Cooper could feel it radiating off them, even when they weren’t making eye contact.
“Well,” Nan began, “with how long the storm raged, six long days with wind and rain lashing the coast, then freezing at night to leave the residents’ doors and windows frozen shut, it was a good thing the candymaker and toymaker decided to ride out the storm together.
By all accounts, they spent their days in front of the fireplace talking and telling stories, cooked their meals together, and shared their plans for upcoming treats and toys. ”
She held the cocoa in her hands for a moment, then held it up in a salute to Cooper before taking a sip. “This wasn’t made from some powdered mix.”
“No ma’am, it was my grandfather’s recipe.”
“And what a wonderful recipe it is,” Ms. Lottie said.
“Thank you,” Cooper replied, wishing his grandfather was still alive; he’d have been thrilled to have Cooper pass their compliments on to him.
“When the storm ended, the town was in rough shape,” Nan continued.
“Many of their neighbors hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid broken windows and damage to their homes the way the toymaker and candymaker, living over their brick shops, had been able to do.
Boats limped in, damaged, with nothing in their hulls, but luckily, with every soul who’d left accounted for.
There wasn’t much in the way of festivities as the townspeople found themselves cleaning up and drying out instead of celebrating. ”
“Awe,” Zachy moaned.
While Cooper couldn’t see his boy’s face, he was certain Zachy was pouting.
“Yes, there was a somberness as people took to their beds on Christmas Eve, hardly anything in the way of decorations or gifts beneath their trees, for those who still had them and hadn’t had them wrecked when their homes were damaged.
And yet, on that very special of nights, two lantern-covered wagons were seen rolling through town, drawn by four horses with bells on their harnesses.
Their progress was slow, as their drivers stopped every block to deliver baskets to each house in the village.
In them were toys and candy donated by the toymaker and candymaker, and bread, meats, and cheeses donated by the baker and the butcher whose shops were on the same block as theirs.
The four of them had come together to ensure that everyone in the village was able to celebrate and put aside their worries for a day. ”
“That’s so awesome,” Zachy said.
“Yes, it was,” Nan said. “And the start of a lifelong friendship. It just goes to show that sometimes the things you do for others will reward you in ways you could never imagine.”
“There is a special kind of joy that comes from creating something that brings a smile to someone’s face,” Ms. Lottie said.
“Whether it’s sweets or paintings or crafting those darling little clay lemurs that are perfect for damn near everything.
Oh, wait until you boys come and see the trailer.
We’ve got one that holds toothpicks and another that serves as a napkin holder, and then there are the ones that we made with their tails in the shapes of hooks so they could sit on the edge of the shelves and give us a place to hang our tea mugs. ”
“Yes, there are so many of them now we rely on them for everything; we even made ones to hold the cooking spoons, so they weren’t tripping all over the counter and a big one that serves as a candy dish.
After how many selfies we took with them at the Melbourne Zoo, we just simply fell in love with the adorable tiny clowns,” Nan said.
“A little joy goes along way, especially out on the road.”
As Cooper moved around the room, collecting mugs for another round of cocoa, it struck him that he was more comfortable here than anywhere he’d lived since leaving home.
They’d given him back the joy and sense of belonging he’d lost when his grandfather had passed away, and a somber pall had fallen over his home.
Here, everyone shared, everyone gave, and everyone reaped the benefits of a home where they tried their best to leave the bad things at the door.
An oasis, a haven, a sanctuary, that’s what this house had morphed into over the course of the year that they’d lived here together.
Now they were on the cusp of a new year, with the newest addition to their family cozied up in his beanbag chair, looking happy, healthy, and positively glowing as Nan smiled down at him, treating him the same as she did Zachy.
Like family.
Because Song mattered to Zachy; all of them did, and she was a true member of that fierce, relentless hippy generation who still proudly defended the belief that love was what made the world go round.