Chapter 3 #2
A clerk came up with a basket, thrusting it into Jason’s hands. “In case you’re on a shopping spree,” she said.
Jason grinned. “We are, actually.”
“I love gingerbread,” she said, mouth watering.
“Me too. Let’s get some.” Jason put several into the basket.
He moved through the shop, picking up ornaments and looking at them closely. He held a hand-blown glass star up to the light.
“This one’s pretty,” he said.
“It is.”
He handed it to her. “First ornament on the first day of Christmas.”
She took it from him, turning the delicate ornament in her hands, noticing the tiny air bubbles caught in the pale blue glass.
They went back and forth like that while they browsed.
Despite her reluctance, she found herself thoroughly enjoying it.
Her mood dampened, however, when she saw a small silver frame with Baby’s first Christmas etched into the metal and a place to put a photo.
She picked it up, brushing the words with her thumb, the familiar ache for a child lodged at the back of her throat.
As if it were suddenly hot, she placed it back where she’d found it and walked to another table where there were safer ornaments.
She looked up to see Jason watching her, a sadness in his eyes but also a knowing. He’d seen her reaction, and there was no taking it back now.
Bless him, he didn’t say anything.
By the time they left the cabin, they had a bag of goodies. In addition to the glass star, they’d found a carved wooden snowflake, a dozen glass balls, a set of simple white lights, and the gingerbread cookies neither of them could resist.
Outside, the late morning sun was bright against the snow. Families moved between the rows of trees, kids running ahead, parents calling after them.
“Okay, here we go,” Jason said, taking her hand.
They walked into the rows together, their boots crunching on the icy ground. There were Frasier firs, Douglas firs, and blue spruces in orderly lines. Every few steps, Jason would stop and gesture at one.
But none of them were quite right. One was too tall, another too sparse, another with a slightly crooked trunk.
He stopped in front of a six-foot Frasier fir that was full but not too wide, with good symmetry. It smelled incredible.
“What about this one?” he asked.
She stood in front of it, tilting her head. It was perfect, and she knew it immediately, but she walked around it once to be sure, running her fingers along one of the lower branches. The needles were soft and fresh.
“This is the one,” she said.
“Consider it done,” Jason said.
He went to find someone to help them cut and wrap the tree. While she waited, stamping her feet to keep warm, she heard a voice she recognized.
“Mauve?”
She turned to the see Ollie’s family. Sarah Chambers was walking toward her, bundled in a puffy jacket, holding her four-year-old daughter Nadia’s mittened hand. A few steps behind them, Ben carried Ollie on his shoulders, both of them red-cheeked and grinning.
“Sarah, hi,” Mauve said, smiling.
“Hey there,” Sarah said. “I guess we’re not the only ones getting a tree today, huh?”
“Apparently not,” Mauve said. “‘Tis the season.”
Ollie, still perched on his father’s shoulders, spotted Mauve and his face broke into a wide smile. He gave her an enthusiastic wave.
“Hi, Ollie,” Mauve said, looking up at him. “Are you helping pick the tree?”
He nodded vigorously.
Nadia tugged on Sarah’s hand. “I’m helping too.”
“We’re all doing it together,” Ben said to his daughter.
“But we’re getting the one Ollie chose,” Nadia said, her bottom lip in a pout.
“Ollie’s got a good eye for trees,” Ben said. “He found the perfect tree for us.”
“Miss Mauve, are you getting a tree too?” Nadia asked.
“I am. My friend’s helping me.”
“What friend?” Nadia asked.
As if on cue, Jason appeared from between the rows of trees carrying a tree stand. A young farm worker followed behind, ready to wrap their tree in mesh before they took it home.
“I got a stand,” Jason said, then noticed the family. “Oh, hey.”
Mauve made the introductions. “Jason, this is Sarah and Ben Chambers, and their kids, Nadia and Ollie. Ollie is one of my students.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Jason said, shaking Ben’s hand.
The entire family was staring at Jason, clearly recognizing him.
“We love your show,” Sarah said. “We binged the last season in one weekend.”
“Thanks. That’s nice to hear,” Jason said.
Up on Ben’s shoulders, Ollie was watching Jason with quiet interest.
“Is it true you had a stutter when you were young?” Sarah asked.
Jason nodded. “That’s right.” He looked up at Ollie. “And guess who helped me?”
Ollie pointed at Mauve.
“That’s right. A therapist like Miss Mauve, only it was a long time ago,” Jason said. “It was hard, but I kept at it. Just like you’re doing.”
Mauve wasn’t sure how he’d so quickly assessed the situation, but it melted her heart to see him offering encouragement to a stranger.
“And now you’re an actor,” Ben said. “That’s very inspirational, isn’t it, Ollie?”
Ollie studied Jason for another moment, then gave a small, serious nod.
Meanwhile, the worker had disentangled Mauve’s tree and was wrapping it in mesh.
“Looks like our tree’s ready,” Mauve said. “But it’s great to see you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Jason said. “And thanks for watching our show.”
“Thanks for giving us so much joy through your work,” Sarah said before turning to her crew. “All right, let’s get our tree home too.”
Ollie waved goodbye as the entire family headed over to pay for their tree, then glanced back at them, a glimmer of hope in his big eyes.
“Thanks for that,” Mauve said. “You just gave him a great gift.”
“I feel for him.”
“He’s getting better every day.”
“Thanks to you.” Jason tugged at her cap with both hands, looking into her eyes. “It’s nice to see you in your world.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He didn’t say anything further, although she had a feeling he wanted to.
Instead, they headed out to the car with their tree, Christmas music fading as they reached the parking lot.
Soon enough, Jason had it tied to the top of the car and they were headed back to her house, the scent of gingerbread making it all that more festive.
Maybe Jason was right. It was time to embrace Christmas again.
Getting the tree into Mauve’s living room took more effort than either of them had anticipated.
Jason wrestled it through the front door while she guided from inside, pine needles scattering across the hardwood.
By the time they’d gotten it upright in the stand they were both slightly sweaty and laughing.
“That tree looked a lot smaller on the farm,” Jason said, stepping back to examine it.
“I love it,” Mauve said.
The smell of fresh evergreen spread through the house, warm and green and alive. She switched on the gas fireplace and lit a few candles for ambiance, then set out a plate with some of the cookies they’d brought home.
They strung the white lights first. Jason wrapped them around the top while Mauve handled the lower branches. Christmas music played from the speakers, and they occasionally sang along. When the lights were done, Jason plugged them in, then stepped back to stand with Mauve.
“How pretty,” she murmured. “I’m glad you talked me into it.”
“I’m glad you said yes.”
They unpacked the ornaments from the tree farm and hung them on the branches. When they stood back to look at their progress, Mauve started laughing. “We have more branches than ornaments.”
“Maybe we can pick up some more in town,” Jason said.
The doorbell rang, startling them both. She went to answer it, surprised to see a FedEx worker standing on her porch with a large box in his hands.
“Package for you. I’ll need a signature.” The delivery guy set the box at her feet and then handed her a tablet to sign.
“What is this?” Mauve asked, as if the poor man would know.
He didn’t answer, but by then Mauve had seen the sender’s address on the box. It was from her mother. How odd. They weren’t a family who exchanged gifts.
“It’s from my mom,” Mauve said, looking up at Jason.
Jason brought the box into the house and set it near the foyer closet.
“I can’t imagine what she would have sent me,” Mauve said.
Jason used a pocket knife to open the box, pulling back the flaps. An envelope with Mauve’s name on it rested atop some tissue paper. She opened it, reading silently.
Dear Mauve,
I found these in the attic. They’re ornaments your grandmother gave you every year. I set them aside for you to take with you, but then you married Chris and I didn’t think they were fancy enough. Now that you’re on your own, I thought you might want to have them.
Love,
Mom
Mauve gave Jason the note and then knelt to remove the tissue paper. There were dozens of ornaments, each chosen for Mauve by her grandmother, long since passed away. A legacy of sorts, Mauve thought.
Her mother was right. They weren’t crystal or Swarovski or anything Chris would have allowed on their twelve-foot designer tree in the Manhattan apartment. They were ornaments found at craft fairs and small-town antique shops, each one chosen with care and thoughts of the recipient.
Jason knelt beside her but didn’t say anything.
She reached into the box and lifted the first one from its wrapping. A small porcelain ballerina, no more than three inches tall, with a pink tutu and one arm raised above her head. She turned it over. On the bottom, in faded ink: For Mauve, age 4. Don’t forget to dance. Love, Nana.
“My grandmother gave me one every year,” Mauve said. “Starting when I was little. I completely forgot about them.”
“That’s a lot of ornaments,” Jason said.
“She died when I was sixteen, so we know how many there are, I guess.”
Mauve set the ballerina aside and unwrapped a hand-painted wooden cardinal perched on a branch, its red so vivid it almost looked wet. Then a felt mouse in a tiny Santa hat, a glass pinecone with gold flecks, and a ceramic kitten curled inside a stocking.