Chapter 3 #2
“If you can call her chewing me out for making too much noise with the construction, then yes. But she doesn’t want anything to do with me. As she shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t know the full story.”
“I don’t think it would make any difference.”
“Her father basically told you to leave her alone or risk ruining her life,” Jason said. “That might make a difference to her.”
He didn’t really want to talk about it, so he changed the subject, asking his brother about work. For the next thirty minutes, Jason entertained him with stories from the set, gossiping about guest stars, and filling him in on the usual drama.
Soon enough, they’d reached Sugarville Grove. Roan drove through the city center, with Jason practically pressing his face against the window like when they were kids. “I forgot how Christmas fanatical this town gets. Look at those lights. What’s that tent?”
“An ice rink opens in a few days. They put it up every Christmas season, apparently.”
“Do they still do the tree lighting?” Jason asked.
“Yep. Aunt Grace says the whole town shows up for it just like always.”
A few minutes later, they turned into the dirt driveway toward home. The moment Roan had parked in the garage, Jason was out of the SUV, hurrying inside to see the house. Roan grabbed his bag and followed his twin into the kitchen.
Jason’s gaze swept the room, before heading into the living room area. “You’re right. It’s totally different. But the open concept’s modern and nice. I think Mom would have loved it.”
“Yeah, she would have.”
They moved through the house together, Jason commenting on changes and reminiscing about old times. When they reached their old bedroom, Jason stood in the doorway for a long moment. “If these walls could talk, right?”
“Yeah. Lots of memories in every nook and cranny of this house.”
“Has it made you miss her all over again?” Jason asked.
“I always miss Mom, but yeah, it’s bringing up a lot of feelings. Ones I tried to run from.”
“No such luck there,” Jason said, chuckling. “I know all about it.”
“Uncle Walter brought over a bunch of Christmas stuff Aunt Grace saved for us. I haven’t looked at it yet. I’m not sure I can handle it.”
“Let’s crack a few beers and do it together,” Jason said.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Roan grabbed two beers from the fridge while Jason popped the plastic lid off the storage bin in the living room. They sat on the floor like kids about to open presents on Christmas morning.
Ready?” Jason asked
“Rip off the bandage.”
“Okay, let’s do it.” Jason pushed aside a layer of tissue paper, under which were carefully wrapped ornaments.
The first was a popsicle stick frame with a photo of them from first grade, gap-toothed and grinning.
“What’s wrong with our hair?” Jason asked.
“Mom always cut it too short, and then we couldn’t get it to lay flat.”
“She was good at a lot of things, but cutting hair wasn’t one of them.” Jason set it aside and pulled out another. This one was made of salt dough, two small handprints pressed side by side with “Roan & Jason, age 5” written on the back in their mother’s handwriting.
“I remember making these,” Jason said. “It was at Aunt Grace’s house.”
“I have no memory of that.” Like so much from his childhood, Roan had shoved it aside, hoping for the ache in his heart to lessen. It never really worked.
They went through more ornaments. There were construction paper angels, a ceramic baseball with “1st Place Little League” painted on it, a theatre mask Jason had made in high school.
Then Jason pulled out their two red felt stockings, with their names embroidered across the top in their mother’s careful stitching. “Roan” in green thread. “Jason” in gold.
“These bring back some memories,” Jason said. “And, man, all this time in Aunt Grace’s attic feels like a betrayal to Mom.”
“Yeah.” Roan reached for his stocking, running his fingers over the letters.
How many Christmas Eves had she filled these?
How many mornings had they dumped them out on the floor, exclaiming over candy and small toys and whatever else she’d managed to afford?
“This is hard.” Roan pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyelids.
“It’s best we face it all, though,” Jason said.
They sat there for a moment, each holding their stocking. Outside, the sun was setting and fat flakes drifted lazily from the sky. The clock on the mantel ticked away.
Jason set his stocking aside and reached back into the box. He pulled out a wooden nutcracker, a set of vintage glass icicles still in their original package, and three snow globes wrapped individually in bubble wrap.
“I used to tease her about these, but they’re actually really cool,” Roan said, taking one with a Victorian village scene inside.
Jason picked up the one with a farmhouse, shaking it to make the glitter dance. “This one was her favorite. She said the house looked like ours.”
“I remember,” Roan said.
Jason held up a felt Advent calendar, with little numbered pockets from 1 to 25, handmade by their mother. Every year she’d filled them with messages and candies.
“I think there are notes still in here.” Jason reached into the first pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper “They’re from the last Christmas we had together. She must have forgotten to take them out.”
“What does it say?” Roan asked.
“Here.” Jason handed it to him as he reached inside for day two. For the next few minutes, they read each one.
Family and friends are the best gifts of all. Make them a priority.
Be true to who you are and proud of your uniqueness.
Don’t worry so much. Everything works out as it should.
Use your strengths to make the world a better place. This is the only job you should truly care about.
Remember to say you’re sorry when you’ve made a mistake or hurt someone. Apologies cost you nothing. Silent stubbornness might cost you everything.
Laugh. Every day.
Even when things are hard, find something to be grateful for.
Use sunscreen. You’ll thank me later.
When you’re lost, take a walk and ask God for help.
Appreciate the cherry blossoms when you can. They won’t be around for long.
If you’re sad, think of something you can do for someone else and go do it.
Plant a garden.
Eat that which comes from the earth, not a can or a box.
When you’re feeling alone or isolated, read a novel. You’ll be reminded that you’re part of something larger than yourself.
If you’re in the car alone, sing loudly.
Do something nice for someone, even if the credit goes to someone else.
When doing charitable acts, do not expect anything in return.
Travel to places that show you a different way of life from your own.
Be curious. About everything.
Look for the good in others and yourself.
You are what you think about.
Choose friends wisely. People who bring you up, not down.
Notice the small things. Birdsong. The scent of a rose on an August afternoon. A dusting of snow across the meadow.
Don’t hold on too tightly to someone you love. If they’re truly yours, they will return to you.
Rejoice in the birth of Jesus. This is his day, so that we might be free. Don’t forget the true meaning of Christmas.
“Do you remember these?” Jason asked.
“Sure. She did them every year. I wonder if we ever followed any of her advice?”
“At eighteen, probably not. Now, sure,” Jason said. “Or at least I hope so.”
“What else is in there?” Roan asked.
Jason pulled out a small music box. He wound it up and Silent Night began to play, tinny and sweet.
At the bottom of the box were photo ornaments—clear glass balls with pictures inside. Their mother—Caroline—holding newborn twins in the hospital. The three of them at Little Bear Lake on a summer day. All three in matching Christmas pajamas when they were ten or so.
Jason reached into the box one more time and pulled out one last ornament—a glass angel that had clearly been broken and carefully glued back together.
A memory flooded back. Roan had knocked it off the tree during a rousing game of charades.
He could see the crack lines, the places where it had shattered.
But their mother had glued it back together.
She’d always been able to fix whatever was broken. Even unruly boys.
“I broke this. Remember?” Roan asked.
“Charades?” Jason asked.
“Yep, that’s it. I wonder what I was trying to describe?”
“That I can’t remember,” Jason said. “You were never as good at charades as me.”
“You’re the actor, not me.”
“Was Mom mad?” Jason asked.
“No. She just gathered all the pieces and put them aside. I’ve no idea when she glued them back together. That’s how it was with her. Christmas just magically happened.”
“I don’t know how she always managed to give us such great Christmases. It’s not like she had unlimited funds.”
“Not working on the Hayes farm, that’s for sure,” Roan said.
Jason was quiet for a moment. “Do you ever wonder about him?”
“About who?”
“Our dad,” Jason said.
“I used to. Not anymore.”
“I asked Mom about him once,” Jason said. “She said she’d tell us more about him once we were older.”
“And then she died.”
“Right.”
It had been so sudden, so unexpected. In a second, their whole world had shattered.
“We could look for him,” Jason said. “With one of those DNA testing companies.”
Roan stared at his brother. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t know. It would be nice to at least know who he is.”
“Or would it?” Roan asked.
Jason simply nodded and moved on to another subject. “We should get a tree. Put some of this stuff up.”
“Yeah. For Mom.”
“I think she’d be glad we’re home,” Jason said.
“It was time, I guess. The hardest part’s over too.” Roan gestured toward the now empty bin. “We’re in the house. We’ve opened a Pandora’s box of memories. Now maybe we can start to create some new memories here.”
“Sure we can,” Jason said. “Sugarville Grove at Christmas is exactly what we both need.”
Roan wasn’t entirely convinced but he nodded anyway and then got up to get them another beer and put a frozen pizza in the oven.
It was good to have his twin home. He wasn’t sure he could face the holidays without him.
Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to. Jason was here until the new year.
And Roan was determined to have a good Christmas as a way to honor their mother.
She had loved Christmas more than any other time of the year.
It was time to bring some joy back into this house.