24. Bryan
24
brYAN
N ova was showing off. Dinner was exceptional. For the past few days, Nova had made what I could only describe as easier meals—chili, hearty, homemade soups, tacos. But tonight’s dinner had multiple courses—a butternut squash soup, roasted vegetables, and a rack of lamb cooked to perfection with apricot chutney and mint sauce on the side. Her desserts were exceptional, a bread pudding with figs and a cranberry pecan pie. There were two kinds of whipped cream, one with bourbon and one without.
Nova really did know how to cook. With Amelia and other chores, like decorating for Christmas, out of her way, her cooking was able to shine.
My mother didn’t have anything to complain about regarding the food. She had plenty to complain about regarding the snowstorm and how the town hadn’t properly cleared the roads to her liking.
The city had done a fine job clearing roads and restoring power. After all, Mother’s driver was able to get here without any problems. Mother didn’t drive. She thought two extra cars on the road at the same time was traffic, and any weather made for hazardous driving conditions.
I should have invited Nova to eat with us, especially after all her hard work. I didn’t care if she didn’t have a formal dress on. Her company was what I wanted, not her in fancy clothes. Actually, I preferred her out of clothes, but not at the table. At least not during a family dinner. Maybe another time.
Mother made it more than obvious that it wasn’t going to happen with her around. I should have stood up for Nova, but the relationship between me and my mother was a complicated one.
After dinner, Mother, well stuffed with a high-quality meal, announced that she would be leaving early.
“I need to consider tomorrow’s luncheon. You are coming to my house for the day?”
I had thought about spending the day at home, just me, Amelia, and Nova. I had enjoyed our little family time during the storm. It was comfortable and felt right. I could only imagine how wonderful it would make Christmas to have Nova curled up on the couch with me as we watched Amelia rip into all of her presents.
I didn’t have an answer.
“Can’t you stay? Did you see our tree?” Amelia dragged Mother from the dining room into the den.
Amelia started talking before I even had a chance to tell Mother I would think about it.
“Yes, dear, I saw your tree. Bryan, next year, you really should hire a professional to come in and take care of that for you. It won’t look so shabby and homemade.”
“It is homemade, Mother. Amelia did a lot of that work. I think it’s prefect,” I said. Any attempt to appease my mother was time wasted. It was better for me to stand up for my daughter. I lost the opportunity to stand up for Nova earlier.
“We got to camp out last night,” Amelia said.
“Nonsense. You did not camp out,” Mother corrected her.
“We did. We made a tent, and Daddy cooked over the fireplace.”
“You did what? Bryan, how many times have I mentioned that you need a generator? There was no need for you to do something so foolish.”
I hated generators. They were loud and noisy, and we never lost power for more than a few hours at a time. But last night’s storm could have been much worse. They had a really bad one a year earlier in the western part of the state where they had been without power for days. I should talk to Gregor, my yard guy, and see if that was something he could get set up for me. Even if I’d had a generator, I might not have turned it on so that we could have camped in the den like we had.
“It wasn’t foolish. Amelia had fun. We made memories.”
“And Nova camped out with us.”
“The cook? The cook was here and yet you did the work?” Mother glared at me.
“She’s never cooked over a campfire. All I did was heat up some soup and fry some bacon.”
“Bryan!” It was as if even hearing that I did any kind of labor had my mother in a fit.
“Mother, we were camping. I used to cook all the time when I went out. Stop being so mortified.”
“We had to rescue her from the side of the road,” Amelia said. “She was too cold to cook.”
“Her car got stuck in a ditch,” I clarified.
“Gracious. Doesn’t she have a motor club membership? And where did she stay?”
“They aren’t going to be able to get to her car for another day or two,” I said.
“She camped with us. I helped her to build the pillow fort,” Amelia finished informing Mother.
Mother narrowed her eyes at me. Clearly, she thought I had acted inappropriately in one way or another. She had no idea exactly how inappropriate I had been.
“She stayed with us for the duration of the storm.”
“And we all slept in here,” Amelia announced.
“Together? That’s very generous of you, Bryan,” my mother conceded. She still narrowed her eyes at me.
It was not generous. It was greedy. I wanted Nova with us, with me. I knew at that moment, unless there was something officially announced between Nova and myself, my mother would never see her as anyone other than the help.
While Amelia kept my mother occupied, I headed back to the kitchen to see Nova and congratulate her on a successful meal. She wasn’t there.
I don’t know why I thought she would wait around or be cleaning up. Everything was clean and the dishwasher thrummed. I saw several notes left out on the counter. One note was instructions for breakfast, another the instructions for the other meal. And there was a note that simply said, Merry Christmas, Bryan and Amelia .
Nova had done everything she had been paid to do—create a remarkable meal and prepare breakfast and a meal for the next day. She had even cleaned up. So why did her absence feel personal?
Her note wishing me a Merry Christmas felt more like a stab to my heart than a genuine sentiment.
I had hoped she would have stayed. I had been serious when I said I wanted to unwrap her as my first gift on Christmas morning. But I realized I hadn’t expressed that in words, and my actions had been more coddling toward my mother.
I had fucked up.
One of Nova’s notes sat in front of a plate of cookies and a small glass of milk. These are for Santa. Do not eat them, unless you’re Santa . I picked up the plate of cookies and headed back to the den. Amelia was staring longingly at the Christmas tree.
“Okay, sweetheart, it’s time for bed. Mother, thank you for staying after dinner and letting Amelia show off her tree,” I announced.
“Do you think Santa will bring me presents tonight?” Amelia’s words were clipped and precise.
“I do,” I admitted. Nova had made certain I was prepared for that to happen. “Look, Nova left us cookies for Santa.”
“What do you mean, Nova left us cookies? Where’s Nova?” Amelia was tired, and I could hear the edge of tears in her voice.
“I would think your cook went home,” Mother said in her tight, precise tone. “Why would she stay?”
“Nova is my friend,” Amelia started.
“What have I told you about?—”
“Mother,” I cut her off. “It’s Christmas. Not tonight.” Now was not the time to break Amelia’s little heart with the rhetoric that the help could not actually be Amelia’s friend.
Amelia sniffled. Her little chin wiggled as she did her best not to melt into tears.
I set the plate of cookies down a little harder than I had intended.
“She’s my friend,” Amelia repeated.
“Oh, is she upset over the help again?” Mother quipped.
I lifted Amelia into my arms. “She has had a long day, and yesterday was difficult.” I spoke calmly. “And it’s time for bed. Why don’t you say good night to your grandmother?” I prompted Amelia. “Mother, it’s time for you to go home. I need to put Amelia to bed.”
My mother knew where her coat was. If she could sweep into my house unannounced, she could see herself out. She didn’t even have to call for her car. Her driver would have stayed in the car the entire time. Just as my mother expected her paid help to do.
“I wanted Nova to put me to bed. She said she would.” Amelia began crying halfway up the stairs. My mother was exhausting, and Amelia had to be on her very best behavior. It was late, and she was tired. I didn’t fault her for crying or being upset that Nova had left without saying goodbye.
But the help doesn’t announce their presence or their departure . I heard that as if Mother’s words were inside my head.
“She had to go home,” I said softly. I wanted her to stay, too, but I hadn’t said anything. That was my fault, and now Amelia was upset, and that was my fault too.
“Why does everybody leave me on Christmas?” She sniffled.
“Oh, sweetheart. Nova only went home.” I swept her hair back and kissed her brow. “I’m never going to leave you. I promise.”
I was going to have a long night. Once I got Amelia to bed, I had to wrap about a million presents from Santa Claus. Then, I had to figure out how to get Nova back. She belonged here.