Chapter Four
BAILEY TOOK A DEEP breath before she walked in the house.
Judging by all the vehicles in the driveway, she was the last to arrive.
She’d been dragging her feet a bit. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like to hang out with her family, but this time of year there was always a heaviness in the air that no one liked to talk about.
Everyone tried to pretend that they hadn’t had their hearts ripped out twenty Christmases ago.
Sometimes she wondered whether they were all just throwing window dressing on the situation, hoping that all the tinsel and the sparkly lights would make up for their huge loss.
On her way over here she had made a quick stop at her house to pick up Foxy Brown, her Jack Russell terrier.
The sweet pup was a stay-at-home dog who had visits during the day with her dog sitter, Imani.
At the end of the workday, Bailey and Foxy Brown missed each other, which always led to a sweet reunion.
Bringing her pup along to her mother’s house only made sense.
“Be a good girl,” Bailey crooned as she nestled the dog against her chest.
The smell of gingerbread wafted through the air.
It was a bittersweet aroma for Bailey. So many good memories were tied up in that scent, yet she always felt the loss of her father so acutely whenever she thought about making gingerbread houses with him as a kid.
Charlie Daniels had always brought the fun, and he’d made the art of gingerbread houses into a festive competition with no winners and no losers.
He had been the ultimate girl dad, lifting his daughters up into the stratosphere.
Bailey walked into the kitchen. The sight of her mother taking gingerbread out of the oven, her long hair in a messy bun and glasses sitting on the rim of her nose, caused a squeezing sensation in her chest. Mom.
Her hero. Cheryl Daniels. The woman who’d raised her and her sisters after the tragic loss of her husband and encouraged them all to fly and follow their dreams. She had gone through a rocky period after her husband’s death, but she had rebounded.
She’d even gone back to school and become an RN, all while raising four kids.
“Something smells good in here,” Bailey called out as she entered the room. She didn’t want to say what she was thinking, but it smelled like Christmas.
“Bailey!” her mother said, turning toward her as she placed the hot rack on top of the stove. “I’ve been waiting for you to get here.” Her red-and-green apron had dancing elves boogying with Santa Claus. She’d worn the same apron ever since they were kids, and it always made Bailey smile.
Bailey enveloped her petite mother in a tight embrace. Her mom kissed her on the cheek, emitting a light floral fragrance she’d been wearing all Bailey’s life. “Foxy Brown,” her mother cried out. “It’s so good to see you.” She began raining kisses down on the pup, who was loving all the attention.
Bailey looked around the kitchen. “Where is everyone?” None of her sisters were anywhere to be seen.
Her mom made a face. “Helping me find some decorations in the attic. We figured that you wouldn’t want to help with that.
” Cheryl’s voice was gentle and soothing.
Her mother empathized with her. Everyone in her family knew how she felt about Christmas.
A part of her felt bad about being a Debbie Downer, but she hadn’t been able to find a way to shift her emotions.
“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have helped bring a few holiday boxes down,” she said, feeling sheepish.
“I know you would have, honey, but why put you through it?” Cheryl said with a shrug. “It would only make you unhappy. We don’t want that.”
Suddenly Bailey felt fragile even though she considered herself a tough cookie.
The chatter of voices followed by thumping sounds heralded the arrival of her sisters. Bailey walked toward the hallway just in time to see Gemma, Lynn, and Regina struggling with an oversize box brimming with decorations. She rushed over and grabbed a side of the box, offering her support.
As soon as they made their way into the living room, the sisters placed the box down on the hardwood floor with a thump. Regina bent over at the waist, breathing heavily. “Why are these boxes way up in the attic anyway?”
“To torture us,” Gemma grumbled.
“What’s in there?” Lynn asked, panting. “It seemed like we were carrying one-hundred-pound weights.”
“Thanks for the assist, Bailey,” Gemma said, holding her lower back.
“Not sure we would have made it without your help.” With her mahogany-colored skin and long braids, her older sister was beautiful.
But all her sisters were lovely in their own way.
Regina was petite, with delicate features and tawny-colored skin.
Lynn was tall with freckles like Bailey’s and the same curly hair and complexion.
Of the sisters, they resembled each other the most in looks.
Their personalities were quite different, with Lynn being on the quieter side and Bailey being more lively.
It had led to a few clashes between them, since Lynn seemed to disapprove of her living life out loud while Bailey had definitely disapproved of Lynn’s engagement to Kai.
And her honesty about it had led to a breakdown in their relationship.
“Yeah, thanks, Bailey,” Regina said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
Lynn simply nodded. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, and she looked as if she hadn’t slept in days. Damn Kai and his narcissism, she thought savagely. He was turning out to be exactly the type of man she had believed him to be. Not that anyone had listened to her.
Okay, she reminded herself. It’s not about you. Lynn was hurting.
“So, are we setting up in the dining room?” Bailey asked, peering into the next room.
“Yep,” Gemma said. “We were just killing time until you got here.”
Their mother had wrangled them into helping her out with a project for the local nursing home residents.
They were packaging up gingerbread treats to hand out at the facility.
It was an annual tradition and something Bailey enjoyed participating in.
The folks at the nursing home were so incredibly grateful.
Plus, she loved the taste of gingerbread even though it represented Christmas.
They headed into the dining room just as their mother appeared, carrying a large tray of cookies. Plastic bags and red ribbons sat on the table. They all took a seat and began assembling the bags.
“How are you doing?” Bailey asked, looking over at Lynn, who was being unusually quiet.
“How do you think I’m doing?” Lynn snapped. “I’ve been dumped by the love of my life. And the wedding I’ve been planning for a year isn’t going to be happening.”
Everyone turned their head in her direction. Her sister’s voice had been dripping with bitterness and anger.
“Lynn,” their mother said in a warning tone.
The expression etched on Cheryl’s face was one of concern mixed with irritation.
Ever since the breakup with Kai, her sister had been living with their mother, since the condo belonged to her ex.
According to her sisters, the living situation had been filled with high drama and tension.
Lynn had been uncharacteristically ill-tempered and moody.
Everyone knew she was in pain, but it was uncomfortable to be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.
“I’m sorry. That was rude,” Lynn said, ducking her head. “I just feel so lost. My whole life is in shambles. Everything I thought about my future isn’t going to happen now.”
“You’ve lost a lot,” Bailey said, empathizing with her losses. One minute she’d been planning a wedding, and in the next she was in mourning—for everything that now wouldn’t come to pass.
“So much,” Regina murmured, nodding. “And being blindsided by someone you love is the worst.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Gemma said, shaking her head. They had all had various disappointments in relationships, yet none had been this brutal.
“And I know none of you liked Kai, so you’re probably rejoicing,” Lynn said, her voice heated as she looked around the table, glaring at her sisters.
Immediately there was a chorus of denials from the group. Bailey couldn’t muster up the energy to deny it. What was the point? Everyone knew she’d thought Kai was a mean-spirited jerk who didn’t deserve Lynn. It was best to keep her mouth shut.
“Lynn, I know you’re hurting, but it’s best if you don’t let it consume you,” her mother said.
Cheryl leaned over and patted Lynn on the shoulder.
Her sister sniffled before sitting up ramrod straight in her chair.
She was doing her best to put on a brave front.
Come to think about it, that was what she and her sisters had always been encouraged to do.
Bailey didn’t agree with her mother’s suck-it-up philosophy.
Just once she wanted to hear Lynn scream at the top of her lungs, to cry out instead of stifling her emotions.
Wasn’t that the healthy thing to do? Her family was dysfunctional.
They all loved one another, but in moments of crisis they tended to either fall apart or freeze up.
Their coping skills had been stunted around the time of her father’s death.
They continued to wrap up the gingerbread, placing cheery little notes in the plastic bags. A memory arose that caused her eyes to get misty. It was building up inside her to such a degree that she needed to share it with her family.
“Do you guys remember that Christmas when Dad ate so much gingerbread that he got sick?” she asked. “And then swore he’d never eat another morsel of gingerbread ever again, but we caught him eating some from the cookie jar?”
She let out a little giggle. Her sisters were smiling as well, as if they each remembered the incident.
A wistful smile hovered around her mother’s lips. “Yet he never lost his love for gingerbread. If he were here now, he would—” Her mother’s voice broke, and she stopped talking mid-sentence. She quickly dabbed at her eyes.
Immediately all her sisters swarmed around their mother, wrapping their arms around her and whispering words of comfort.
Bailey clenched her teeth to stop herself from screaming.
She knew that her mother’s feelings were genuine, but her being upset caused the discussion about her father to come to a grinding halt.
It happened every single time. She couldn’t figure out why every sign of emotion needed to be extinguished.
Yet now she was the bad guy, feeling guilty and desperately needing to fix things.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have brought Dad up,” Bailey apologized.
Even though she knew that she hadn’t done anything wrong, it was best to try to smooth things over.
As it was, Bailey was certain her sisters would blame her for upsetting their mother.
This was the way her family worked. She should be used to it by now, but it still hurt.
“It’s okay, Bailey,” Cheryl said, squeezing her hand. “After all these years it’s still so painful to talk about him.”
“We get it,” Regina said, wiping away a few stray tears. “I think we all feel that way.”
Only, Bailey didn’t. She was the outlier in her family.
They were all just walking around like zombies, avoiding the reality of what had happened to them.
And the worst part of all was that her father’s memory had been diluted, as if even talking about him was more than they could bear.
And it was all being done to avoid pain at all costs.
Bailey needed to talk about him, because with each year that passed, she felt as if she was forgetting all the wonderful little nuances that had made her dad special.
And her family were the only people who had truly known him the way she had, yet they acted as if their memories needed to be packed away.
“I don’t think happy memories should necessarily make us sad,” Bailey said. “Isn’t it holding us back by pushing all the memories away? Can you imagine if we actually—”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Gemma said, cutting her off. “I decided to make my special lasagna dish for our holiday potluck.”
A chorus of cheers went up. Of course, Bailey thought. Any diversion from reality was always celebrated.
“Yummy,” Lynn said. “Nothing better these days than comfort food.”
Her sister’s lasagna was legendary. Bailey’s stomach was grumbling at the mere mention of it, even though she didn’t appreciate her sister steering the attention away from her comment. They all worked overtime to deflect.
And this was one of the problems that she believed was at the root of her issues with the holidays.
Her family never talked about the loss of her father or the tragic event that had shaped their lives.
It was like they were all trying to bury it so that they didn’t have to feel the hurt associated with losing him, but the problem was that doing so never solved anything.
And she would bet her last dollar that they were all still suffering and dealing with grief they’d never processed.
The pain Lynn was going through now was something she was fighting against. Bailey had a feeling that this loss reminded her of the huge void her father’s death had left in all their lives.
She never understood why her sister had put up with her fiancé.
He’d always been dismissive and narcissistic.
She’d never sensed that Lynn had truly been happy with him.
Moreover, she had the feeling that her sister had just settled, perhaps at a fear of being alone.
They had all seen their mother struggle as a widow.
They’d all sensed her loneliness, with none of them wanting to end up like her.
Alone. And as much as Lynn’s situation was messed up, Bailey knew that she wasn’t the only one in her family who was struggling.
They all were, in some form or another. After all these years, she was still angry: angry at Christmas, angry at the drunk driver who had taken her father’s life, angry at the fact that no one in her family wanted to talk about it.
If she had one wish for this holiday season, it would be to get to the heart of her family’s avoidance so that they could honor her father in a meaningful way. And maybe, just maybe, she could start to believe in Christmas again.