Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Raya
Normally, I would be announcing to everyone that I’m here against my will.
But my mom’s words are still ringing in my ears, so contrary to tradition, I’m going to try and enjoy things.
We’ll see how that goes. I’m bucking twenty years of crankiness here.
My family is cozied up on my parents’ front porch, drinking hot drinks, and acting like they have nothing to do but be here.
Which, I suppose, is exactly what they should do today, since everyone cleared their schedules to keep our Hart family Saturday-after-Thanksgiving tradition alive.
Mom fills a mug with hot cider from the carafe she’s brought out onto the porch, and hands it to me with a gentle pat. “Just try and go with the flow today, okay?”
Behind me, Eloise laughs.
I shoot her a look, and she widens her eyes.
It’s late morning, after the breakfast rush at Poppy’s restaurant, after the Comets’ morning practice, after my exciting few hours of trying not to dwell on all the annoying thoughts piercing my mind.
“‘Go with the flow’ is my new motto,” I say, signing with expression to convey my sarcasm. I sit down on the porch swing next to Poppy.
“I, for one, am glad you’re here,” Poppy says. “Last year you didn’t get to do this with us.” She’s wearing black leggings, an oversized, cozy sweater, a puffer vest, and a stocking cap with a ball on top. She looks adorable.
By contrast, I’m in jeans, a not-cozy green sweater, my boring winter coat, and boots. My outfit screams urban, while hers whispers rural. I don’t even think I remembered to bring gloves.
I think back to last Christmas and realize she’s right. Our own Hart Family Christmas kickoff is a holiday tradition, and I didn’t go. I can’t remember why.
“You were working,” Eloise says.
“But at least I wasn’t a seventh wheel like I’m going to be today,” I groan, then take a drink of the cider. I look up and find them all watching me.
My eyes jump from Poppy to Eloise to my mom, then my dad. “What?” I say, signing.
“It’s not a setup,” Mom says, in a tone meant to calm small children.
Dad smacks a hand on his knee and hoots. “Sure, Tam,” he signs.
Neither of my sisters is looking at me, but they don’t need to for me to know that whatever they’ve done, I’m not going to like it.
Just then, Finn’s Jeep ambles up the driveway, followed by Dallas’s shiny new SUV.
I toss my mom a look. “Not a setup?” I sign this, then look at my dad. “You let her do this?”
He holds up his hands in surrender, as if that absolves him from blame.
“You guys, I just ended things with someone—”
“Nope!” Eloise cuts me off with an upheld hand. “To end something, you have to have started something. None of us is buying that you ever had feelings for that guy.”
She’s right, of course, but I don’t say so. Maybe one day I’ll tell my sisters the truth about Justin, but for now, I’m keeping it to myself.
Finn and Dallas pull off to the side, parking in the yard where people always park when we have company.
“Regardless of how I feel—or felt—about Justin,” I say, voice firm, “I cannot stress enough how this is just not going to work with Finn.”
“Is this one of those times when you think if you say something often enough you’ll actually start to believe it?” Eloise grins at me.
“I’m not making this up,” I argue. “You have to stop pushing this. I think he’s starting to—” I look at Mom, her words ringing through my mind.
“Because he’s in love with you.”
I thought about those words all day yesterday, turning them over and over in my mind, trying to make them make sense.
I can brush off the almost-kiss as a heated, confused moment of attraction.
But if those words are true, it’s going to come up at some point.
I’m going to have to deal with it. And when I do, he’s not going to come around anymore.
Isn’t that what I’ve been saying I want?
When did everything change?
“Starting to what, Ray?” Eloise says. “Starting to be an incredibly excellent guy with a whole lot to offer someone who’s uptight and in desperate need of a good time?”
I frown and look over at Dad just in time to see him secretly sign something to Mom. I catch the last of it—something like, “I’ll show you a good time.”
“Dad!” I shout at him, “I saw that!”
He fakes innocence, shaking his hands in front of him as my mom swats him on the arm.
They did this stuff constantly when we still lived here, thinking we couldn’t see them silently flirting in ASL.
He turns to my mom and pumps his eyebrows twice. Eloise laughs.
Finn and Dallas get out of their cars as another one shows up at the end of the driveway.
“So. Who exactly do I have to blame for inviting him today?” I ask. “To join in our family tradition?”
As if on cue, everyone points right at my mom.
She holds her hands up in front of her. “After dinner on Thursday, Finn got another call from his folks. I got to talking with his mom—who is just lovely, by the way—and I promised her I’d invite him to all of the holiday festivities.”
“You’re friends with his mom now,” I say dryly.
“Yes, I have her number. We were just texting this morning. We have so much in common! She invited us to stay at their ranch—have you seen the view?” Mom stands and waves as Gray parks next to Dallas. “She hates that he’s alone for the holidays, and I would too if one of you were far away.”
Leave it to my mother to make it impossible to stay annoyed.
“They really should’ve carpooled,” I mutter. “It’s better for the environment.”
My sisters exchange a look. That’s when I see Gray’s daughter, Scarlett, is with him. Eloise rushes off the porch and pulls her into a giant hug, and that’s when I notice Finn is not alone.
I stand when I see a thin, dark-headed girl and her two brothers exit his Jeep.
Grace.
I’d thought about her a lot since the day Finn took me to the tutoring club. Twice, I’d wanted to go back—to reach out to Tasha and see if there was something I could do to help out over the next couple of weeks—but both times, I chickened out.
I’m not sure I’d be good at tutoring kids. Or talking to kids. Or being around kids.
Mom raises a hand. “Welcome, everyone! And Merry Christmas!”
Yesterday, we decorated our parents’ house for Christmas—another Hart tradition.
Staying in pajamas, heating up leftovers, unpacking all of the binned-up decorations, and dousing the entire house in holiday cheer.
I still remember how us girls would fight over who got to hang this one ugly, orange handmade shell ornament.
I did not inherit my Scrooge-ish tendencies, that’s for sure. They came to me all on their own.
Every year, my parents try to outdo what they did the year before.
Swaths of greenery thread through the porch railings and hang from the eaves of the roof.
How my dad got up there, I don’t even want to know.
When the sun goes down, that greenery will twinkle with white lights.
Big, beautiful wreaths are hung from every window, tied with thick, red ribbon, and there’s a huge Nutcracker standing guard by the door.
Inside, they cleared space in the alcove of the front windows for what is certain to be “the best Christmas tree we’ve ever had. ”
And it will be. Because it always is.
I stand back and watch my family for a few seconds, charmed by the spirit and simplicity of it all, and I wish that Christmas feeling was the kind of thing you could purchase. Or at least bottle up. It would be easier than trying to manufacture it when I feel so out of sorts.
I haven’t gotten into the holidays for a long time. Partly because I was always alone, but also because I was just so busy. The holidays almost felt like an unwanted interruption in my work week.
The pressure I put on myself to do more, to get more done, drove out the holiday spirit. While my family found ways to stretch the holidays out, I kept mine short and sweet, relishing the time alone while everyone else was distracted.
At least, that’s what I told myself.
The truth is, once again, I was heading disappointment off at the pass. The build-up of Christmas never paid off for me.
Maybe I just wasn’t looking hard enough for the wonder.
But yesterday, being back home with my sisters and my parents, watching our childhood home transform into a Christmas wonderland, I saw hints of it. I started to understand.
I don’t want time with my family to be the casualty of my ambition anymore.
I stand and zip my coat, watching as Finn introduces Grace and her brothers to Scarlett. Then he walks over to my parents, and to my surprise, signs, “Thank you for the invitation” as he says the words aloud.
Dad’s face beams. He hits my mom on the arm, and points at Finn, then signs, “You’re welcome here anytime.”
Finn turns to my mom with a questioning look. “I’m still getting the hang of it.”
She smiles and says my father’s words aloud.
Finn says and signs, “We are glad to be here.”
Dad pats him on the shoulder and signs, “Glad to have you, Finn.” But when he signs Finn’s name he uses the sign for kind, using the first letter of Finn’s name.
I go still.
My father gave Finn a name sign. And the adjective he chose to describe him was “kind.”
A few weeks ago, there were other adjectives I would’ve used to describe him—goofy, silly, unserious—but the one my dad chose is so appropriate that I have to look away because there’s a stupid lump at the back of my throat.
I doubt Finn even realizes what’s just happened. But I do. Only a member of the deaf community can give someone a name sign. It’s a sign of inclusion in my dad’s community.
And when Finn introduces Grace and her brothers to my parents, I catch my dad’s eye.
He nods at Finn then quickly signs, “good guy.” I watch Finn for a second, as he drops down on one knee and says something to Bodie.
My dad’s right. He is a good guy. But that still doesn’t mean he’s right for me. I can’t let myself go there even if there’s a part of me that’s ready to admit I’m curious.
I just can’t see it ending well. And it will end. Because it always does—even when it’s meticulously planned out, right down to the schedule and resume.
“All right, who’s ready to go?” Mom calls out. “We’re not going to find the perfect tree just standing around!” She makes a circular motion over her head, like she’s rallying troops, and everyone starts to move toward their cars.
I head down the front stairs and into the yard, unsure who I’m supposed to ride with when Finn walks up, Grace trailing behind.
Her brow is knit so tightly, that I recognize her expression immediately—a first line of defense that matches my own. It’s the stubborn streak that keeps my feelings safely locked away behind a strong facade.
The one I keep in place because, for whatever reason, I can’t let on when I’m happy. Or having fun.
Why do I do that? Why can’t I let other people know when I’m enjoying myself, or that things are actually great?
“Morning, Hart,” he says. “You remember Grace and her brothers, Bonkers and Booper.”
The boys immediately laugh and protest. “Bodie and Brady!” they yell at him.
“Oh! Shoot. Yeah, I keep forgetting.” Finn smacks the side of his head with a playful grin.
I smile and nod at the boys, then look at Grace. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Mr. Finn is going to get us a tree!” the youngest brother shouts.
“Talk softer, Bodie,” Grace says, firmly.
“I’m going to get Miss Raya one too,” Finn leans over and whispers to them, “but only if she’s been good this year.”
He looks at me, winks, and then picks up the kid and tosses him over his shoulder. Bodie lets out a gleeful scream, but Grace rolls her eyes.
Finn bounces Bodie. “Come on, crew! Hop in.”
I do a quick scan of the driveway and see that everyone in my family is already loaded up into vehicles. Engines are started. Cars are moving. And I’m still standing here. With Finn.
Not a setup, my eye.
I look at Grace, whose brow is still furrowed. “Are you okay?”
She looks at me, then gives me a quick nod. “I’m glad the boys will have a tree this year.”
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you glad you’ll have a tree?”
She shrugs. “I don’t really care about those things.” She starts toward the Jeep. “I just need to figure out how to help with the presents.” She looks at me. “For my mom.”
I nod, knowing how hard it is to carry the kind of weight she’s carrying. I took on the weight of watching over my sisters and being my mom’s second-in-command even though she never asked me to.
When I look at this little girl, though, I see how misguided that was. How do I steer her in a different direction when I’m struggling to find the oars myself?
I watch as Grace gets into the backseat and helps Bodie buckle in, pushing his hands out of the way when he tries to help. She just does it herself. She doesn’t need help.
That’s familiar.
“Hey, Hart?”
I glance over and find Finn watching me. When our eyes meet, his brow knits in concern.
“All good?”
I pull my sunglasses off my head and put them on my face with a nod. But no, I’m not good. Not really. Because if all of these revelations are the truth, then I’ve got some soul-searching to do.
And I have no idea what comes next.