Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
SILAS
Something had shifted between me and Clara. Something that I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined. Something deep and abiding. And when I thought about it, it took my breath away. It startled me in a way I hadn’t anticipated.
It was the realization that Clara was even more Christmas crazed than she’d originally let on.
We were an hour in and still unloading her decorations onto every surface of Linda’s house. Despite the fact that the shelves were already bursting at the seams, more bins kept appearing with more decorations that needed homes. I felt like she was a magician pulling doves from a hat.
Clara hadn’t noticed me staring at her as she unclipped the lid to another bin and pulled it off. She was recounting the story behind the glass Christmas star that I’d just unpacked. Every item in her possession had a story to it. A memory so sacred that I could hear the reverence in her voice.
It was endearing that she cared so much. Especially since I spent most of my life trying not to care too much about anything. After I lost Nicole, I realized that everything could be taken away from me, so I tried not to get attached.
Houses could be sold. Things could be replaced. The only thing that mattered to me was Isabelle. She was the one caveat to my I don’t give a shit attitude. She was the one thing that kept my feet on the ground. Without her, I’d have moved to the mountains and lived the rest of my life in seclusion.
I was lost in my own thoughts when I realized that Clara was staring at me. I glanced over at her and then around the room, wondering what I had missed. When had she stopped talking? My ability to keep my mind grounded and my focus sharp had started to slip ever since this woman moved in next door.
I was losing my edge.
“What?” I asked as I rolled my shoulders, hoping to appear cool and aloof.
She shook her head. “Nothing.” She started unpacking a porcelain nativity set. “I get it.”
I frowned. “Get what?” When she didn’t answer, I took a step closer to her. “Get what?” I dipped down, trying to meet her gaze. Sure, I thought that her attachment to these items was a bit much, but I understood it.
She glanced up at me and shrugged. “You just have the same look on your face that everyone gets when I talk about the history behind all”—she waved her hand around the room—“of this stuff.” She turned her attention back to the bubble-wrapped item she was holding, grabbed the edge of the wrapping, and pulled it up.
Baby Jesus in a manager came tumbling out onto her hand.
She glanced up at me. “You’re judging me,” she whispered.
I knit my eyebrows together. “I’m not judging you.” Sure, the sheer amount of holiday items she had was ridiculous, but that didn’t mean I judged her for it.
Some people gambled to deal with loss. Some people drank. Even though Christmas decorations were the last thing on earth I would ever surround myself with, I understood why she did it. She was coping. I wasn’t sure with what, but I had a suspicion.
She sighed as she set baby Jesus next to the shepherd and the wise man she’d already unwrapped. “That’s okay. I’m used to it. Most people think I’m out of my mind, I’m too much, I’m crazy.” She stuck out her tongue and wiggled her head to emphasize her statement,
“Most people are idiots.” I shrugged. “I stopped living to please people a long time ago.” I shook my head. “Besides, you’re not crazy or out of your mind. You’re sentimental. There’s a difference.” I reached into the bin and grabbed one of the bubble-wrapped nativity figurines to help her.
Clara may have quirks that I didn’t understand and didn’t necessarily like, but that didn’t make her wrong. In my experience, it was the people passing moral judgment who were wrong.
I’d unrolled Joseph and was working on Mary when I realized that Clara hadn’t spoken. When I glanced up, she was staring at me with her eyebrows drawn together.
“What?” I asked as Mary fell into my hand. I laid the bubble wrap on top of the sheet I’d just taken off of Joseph. “Why are you staring at me like that?” I set Mary next to Joseph and got another figure out.
Clara blinked a few times before she shook her head. “It’s just…no one’s ever said that to me before. I’ve always just been the overly zealous Christmas friend.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, her cheeks flushing as she met my gaze.
I wasn’t sure what to say to her confession.
I was already learning too much about the woman who was trying to bring back Christmas.
She’d made it clear since the moment she stepped into Grinchland that she had no respect for the town or its rules.
So while I could sympathize with her and the plight of having everyone misunderstand her intentions, it didn’t mean I wanted to get close to her.
It didn’t mean that I wanted to be friends.
I had a job to do. To keep the structure of Grinchland safe, I needed to keep our relationship revolving around one thing: fulfilling this agreement so that in seven days normal life could resume in Grinchland. A life that was Christmas-less.
Neither of us spoke again as we finished unwrapping the nativity set and perched it precariously on the edge of Linda’s piano. There were a few more items to take out, and I attempted to find spots for them while Clara stacked the bins inside of each other and hauled them off to the spare bedroom.
When she returned, I expected her to say that day one was over and I could go back to my house. Instead, she told me to follow her into the kitchen, where she instructed me to bring the huge bowl of popcorn into the living room while she went to find needles and thread.
I wanted to tell her that I’d had just about enough holly jolly for one day, but then I remembered the goal. Seven days and then this woman would let Christmas go. I just had to stick it out for one week, and then my life could return to normal.
Twenty minutes into stringing popcorn, I almost called it quits right then and there.
My fingers felt like pin cushions, that’s how many times I pricked them.
The movie Elf was playing in the background, and while Clara loved it—she kept swatting my arm right before she would break out into laughter—I was… tolerating it.
And I was playing fast and loose with the word tolerate.
I was halfway done filling my string with popcorn when I glanced up to see Clara’s eyes were glued to the screen and she was picking up pieces of popcorn and putting them in her mouth. My gaze drifted down to her popcorn garland to see she’d only completed a fourth of what I’d accomplished.
I waited until she was bringing more popcorn to her lips before I grabbed a piece and chucked it at her. “We’re stringing, not eating.”
Her hand was suspended in front of her mouth when she brought her gaze over to me. Then slowly, ever so slowly, she slipped the popcorn into her mouth.
I sighed. This was going to take forever if she kept eating the supplies.
I pricked my thumb, again, so I draped the string over my lap and leaned back while I pressed hard on my skin to stop the bleeding. “Why are we doing this?” I nodded toward the tree in the corner of the room. “You already have a decorated tree.”
Clara looked at me like I was an alien with two heads. “I have one tree.”
She said the word one like I should know exactly why my question was a stupid one.
“Isn’t it normal to have just one tree?”
Clara laughed. It was loud and genuine, and my stomach flip-flopped at the sound.
First, there had been her smile earlier today at the school.
Now her laugh. I didn’t like how I was reacting to her.
I didn’t want to see her as anything other than the annoying woman next door who was trying to bring Christmas back to a town that had already cancelled it.
“Not for me,” she said as her laughter died down to a giggle.
That I could believe. Nothing seemed to be enough for this woman.
“Why do you like Christmas so much? And why is it always this holiday? I’ve never seen someone go this insane over the Fourth of July.”
Clara poked her needle into the armrest of the couch and shifted so she could sit facing me.
I wanted to take my question back. I hadn’t meant to distract her.
I wanted off of this crazy Christmas merry-go-round, and I feared that would never happen when I kept stupidly engaging her in conversation.
She crisscrossed her legs in front of her and rested her elbows on her knees. She steepled her fingers before pressing them to her lips while looking deep in thought.
“Thing is, it’s not so much Christmas that I love. It’s…everything. The decorations, the songs, the people.”
I frowned at her last word. I actively avoided people when I could. If Clara noticed, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she continued to stare off with a dreamy expression.
“It’s just that this time of year, everything is better.
” She glanced over at me and pulled back.
My expression must have accurately depicted my emotions because she gave me a once-over before she knit her eyebrows together.
“Obviously, you don’t feel the same. What about you?
Have you always hated Christmas so much you wanted to ban it?
” Her tone had turned cheeky as she reached out and smoothed the material of her couch with her hand.
There was so much to unpack in that question, and I doubted she wanted to hear any of my reasons. There was also the little fact that I didn’t talk about Nicole anymore, and I wasn’t about to start with her, so I just shrugged. “I used to tolerate it.”
I could feel Clara’s gaze on me.
“You obviously don’t tolerate it anymore,” she said, her voice soft as she shifted her focus back to the couch cushion. She was quiet for a second before glancing up at me. “So you’re telling me that you’ve never had a memorable Christmas? One that you’d never forget?”
Christmas lights. Decorations. Snow…sirens.
I did have a Christmas that I would never forget no matter how much I wanted to.
The holiday just happened to correspond with the night my life had changed forever.
It was the reason my wife died, and I lived in constant fear that my daughter would return to her despondent state.
I’d lost one important woman in my life, I wasn’t going to let Christmas take another.
If I could save my daughter by getting rid of a holiday, I’d make that choice every time.
I stared at my hands. Then I looked at the popcorn that I’d been stringing before I slowly swept my gaze around the room, tuning into the music and movie playing next to me.
That’s when realization dawned. What was I doing?
“I, um…” I pulled the garland off my lap and stood, brushing the popcorn bits from my pants. “I need to go,” I said. I didn’t wait for Clara to respond. Instead, I turned and headed back to her room to get Isabelle.
“Um, okay,” Clara said as I heard her scramble to follow me.
I didn’t stop as I made my way through her house. As soon as I reached Isabelle, I hoisted her up and helped her adjust so her head was resting on my shoulder.
I could hear Clara behind me, but I didn’t address her. She was following me as I left her room in pursuit of the front door. Just as my hand found the handle, her voice stopped me.
“Did I do something wrong?”
The quiet way she spoke caused me to pause. I stared hard at the oak door in front of me before I glanced over my shoulder to see that Clara’s eyes were wide as she stared up at me.
A lot of thoughts rolled around in my mind, but I fought every one of them. Clara wasn’t here to stay. She had an expiration date. Plus, this was Grinchland—and if my plan worked, it would stay that way. We were two sides of a coin. Complete opposites.
She didn’t belong in my world like I didn’t belong in hers.
“I’ve just had enough Christmas spirit for one night.” I turned the handle and pulled open the door. Just as I stepped out onto her porch, I stopped. I didn’t want to leave her like this. There was a part of me that wanted to say more, I just wasn’t sure what I should say.
Without thinking, I turned to face her. “It was an adequate night.” I held her gaze for a moment before I turned and hurried down her steps.
Thankfully, she didn’t call after me. I felt her stare as she lingered on her porch. I kept my gaze forward, and as I made my way up my walkway, the sound of her door shutting sounded in the distance.
Once I was inside my house, I blew out my breath.
There was so much for me to unpack from my time with her, but that was the last thing I wanted to do. Right now, I was going to put Isabelle to bed, change into my pajamas, and crawl into bed. Then I was going to sleep.
I would save thinking about Clara for tomorrow.