Chapter Nine
“I t was still a nice goal,” Jeannie said as Everett approached the firepit with a bottle of beer in his gloved hand. It wasn’t just nice. Jeannie knew she’d be hearing about that shot for years to come, Carmichael family lore right up there with the thirty-two-pound rainbow trout Duke had caught in the Bow River twenty years ago.
Remember that musician who got stranded at Christmas and ended up making the day’s most heroic play? they’d say, voices thick with nostalgia. She wasn’t sure what would get more airtime, the shot or the redirect of the Christmas Eve elk.
What stuck out to her, though, was how intent Everett had been on winning. He’d barely taken a second to celebrate before locking eyes with her across the rink. He was trying for her .
“It was a lot of fun,” Everett said. “But I still can’t believe we lost like that.” His cheeks were bright pink and his hair was a bit wild from the wind now that it was free from his toque, which he’d shed. “Now tell me about what’s going on here.” He stood over the cast-iron pot hanging a safe distance above the fire, gooey white melted Emmental cheese bubbling lightly inside. On a table between the two firepits—the other with its own vat of cheese, that one Gruyère—was a table with paper plates, napkins, long metal spears, and an assortment of dippable items like cubes of cured meat, crudités, and cut-up apples and pears.
“What’s going on here,” Jeannie said, “is an obscene amount of cheese, with every possible item you would ever want to dip in it. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
Everett raised his eyebrows. “Finally, you’re opening up to me,” he said. She hoped the cold was hiding the blush in her cheeks. “I’m all ears.”
Jeannie straightened her shoulders and looked at him pointedly. “The fondue is good. Very good. But go easy. Because tonight’s meal is something dreams are made of, and it’s a rookie mistake to load up too much on the fondue. You’ll be too full for dinner, and you’ll have to look on forlornly while the rest of us indulge in the finest Christmas Day dinner you’ve ever seen. Trust me.”
“I’ll be on the road by dinner, hopefully,” Everett said.
“It’s Christmas Day. I doubt roadside assistance will be on time,” Jeannie said. She doubted, but mostly she hoped. Watching Everett play so hard to try to get her family the win… Maybe they’d lost, but she was smitten. “Trust me.”
Everett speared a soft cube of French bread and dipped it carefully into the pot, then held it over a napkin in the crisp breeze to cool for a moment before taking a bite. Jeannie watched the predictable reaction: Everett groaned as his mouth filled with the flavour of rich, salty cheese. She could tell that in that moment he could think of nothing other than plopping himself in front of the fire until he’d scraped every last morsel from the cast-iron pot. “Oh wow. It’s not going to be easy. But what you’re saying is I should trust you.”
“That’s up to you to decide,” Jeannie said, dipping a piece of pepperette directly into the pot and raising her eyebrows as she blew on it a little, then popped it in her mouth. “But don’t make me say I told you so.”
He plucked a cucumber from the platter, then paused, studying her. “You okay?” he asked.
“What do you mean? I’m fine.”
“You seem a little down,” he said. “Compared to earlier.”
Jeannie paused. She didn’t want to make him feel bad. Or judge her for what was probably a childish attachment to her family traditions. “It’s just that things seem to keep going wrong. And this is our last Christmas here.”
Everett turned to look at the lodge. “I heard something about that. Your grandparents are selling this place, right?”
“Yeah. So, this is the last hurrah for a lot of our traditions.”
“I get it.” He turned back to her, his brown eyes filled with warmth and care. “You wanted everything to be perfect.”
“Exactly.”
Over by the other bonfire, Duke was in the middle of telling an animated story to the Larsons. “Your grandfather doesn’t seem too bothered by it. Maybe there’s another version of perfect than the one that’s been in your mind. Because I’ll tell you. If this,” he said, waving out at the vista in front of them, “and the party last night, and what you’re saying is going to be a great family meal, isn’t perfect, I don’t know what is. You’ve gotta count your blessings, Jeannie Carmichael.”
Jeannie opened her mouth to speak, but Sue was shouting something about a group photo on the rink, so she stayed quiet and let her grandmother corral the group for a shot.
*
After the fondue, the group sat in the wooden chairs and on makeshift stools from various items around the property. Jacob had clearly spent some time making his seat, a throne made out of snow, adorned with pinecones and twigs. It was all a bit silly, and Jeannie was a little embarrassed when it was her turn to take the “stage” for charades.
Everett told them he wasn’t much of a games person and waved off an invitation to participate, then sat back and watched those participating mime airplane , dream , lizard , and rainbow .
Jeannie did her best when acting out Frankenstein . She felt like she performed unicycling with particular aplomb, and absolutely aced teapot .
She found herself continuing to look at Everett, hoping he was enjoying himself and wanting to make sure he was okay. He thought her family, with all their quirks and flaws, was perfect. What was up with his?
*
By five o’clock, roadside assistance was still nowhere to be seen, and Jeannie warmed at how her family made every effort to include Everett, even giving him his own Christmas cracker with a paper hat that he was instructed he needed to wear to the “Under the Sea” dinner. They were pretty amazing, she had to admit. It likely helped that he wasn’t the only non-family member there, and he seemed to enjoy the banter of the Aussies, who had now all returned from their shifts at the ski resort.
Jeannie showed Everett to his seat at the table, across from hers and one seat over. “The ‘Under the Sea’ dinner title is no joke,” she said. “Although, technically everything in the meal is very much no longer under the sea.”
Everett’s eyes widened as platters of shaved ice holding shucked oysters and every variety of mignonette and sauce as accoutrements, with wedges of lemon to drip over the top, were placed on the table. On a separate platter came some oysters that were baked Rockefeller-style, with butter, parsley, and breadcrumbs.
Duke served each seat a steaming bowl of lobster bisque in stoneware bowls. Jeannie grinned watching Everett blow on his a little before taking a bite, then groaning in pleasure. “Nothing in the world will ever live up to this soup,” he said to Sue, who waved off the compliment but was clearly pleased.
There was blackened red snapper and pan-fried salmon with watercress sauce, and on the centre of the table was a five-tiered stand heavy with fat pink shrimp, spindly king crab legs, mussels, clams, scallops on the half shell, and dishes of chili sauce, brown butter with capers, and cocktail sauce.
When a plate of warm cornbread muffins and thick slabs of French bread came around, Everett tipped one of each onto his plate.
“Told you,” Jeannie said. “Fondue was good…”
“But this is truly heaven,” Everett said.
“Exactly,” said Jeannie. She loved that Everett was having a great time. She sent a silent thank you to all the other Albertans who had made CAA calls today and were slowing down service, and mentally crossed her fingers he’d stay the rest of the evening.
“So, Everett,” Duke said. “We know you can shred the guitar. Somehow you’ve got some kind of weird connection with animals, and you can handle a puck. Can’t close, but you’re okay.” Everyone laughed. “So tell me, my boy, who’s missing you tonight?”
Jeannie’s jaw tightened when she noted the slight sloop of Everett’s shoulders at Duke’s question.
“Ah, my mom’s in Calgary, actually, and my sister’s in Cochrane.” He took a sip from his water glass, his eyes fixed on his plate.
“And what are they doing to celeb—”
“Duke, don’t be nosy!” Sue implored, swatting him with her paper napkin. “Now, Everett, tell us how you learned to be such a good hockey player.”
Everett’s eyes flickered to Jeannie, then back to his plate.
“Why don’t we pop our Christmas crackers?” Jeannie asked loudly. She knew her interjection was awkward, but when Everett mouthed “Thanks” from across the table, she smiled back at him.
Crackers were popped, paper crowns adorned, and they all took turns reading out their fortunes from the small papers inside.
“‘You will soon be travelling to a distant land,’” read Sue. “There you go, Duke. Time to book our plane tickets to Aruba for next winter.”
“Ten-four,” Duke said. He slid his glasses from his shirt pocket, then examined his fortune. “‘As soon as you feel too old to do something, do it,’” he said. “Well, there’s a fortune! Time to get me that Harley-Davidson I’ve had my eye on.”
“There’s enough roadkill in these parts, honey,” Sue said, then kissed him on the cheek.
“‘You will be awarded some great honor,’” read Jim.
“Best husband in the world,” said Gloria, and slipped her arm around his shoulder. Jeannie rolled her eyes, but they were pretty cute.
She reached inside the ripped paper cylinder and unfolded the small piece of paper inside, then cleared her throat before speaking. “‘If you want the rainbow, you have to tolerate the rain,’” Jeannie read aloud.
“And bring your umbrella,” said Sue.
When Jeannie looked over at Everett, he was giving her a pointed look.
“What?” she mouthed to him while the rest of the table read their fortunes.
He shook his head and smiled. She was dying to know what he was thinking.
So, when a welcome break was announced between the meal and dessert, Jeannie looked across the table at Everett, with his completely empty plate in front of him. “Come to the great room,” she said while the others were moving dishes and platters off the table.
She led through the great room to the puzzle room where they could have a few quiet moments.
“So, was I right, or was I right?” she asked, gesturing to Everett to sit at the table where she’d started a Wonder Woman puzzle the day she’d arrived.
“It’s official. I trust you,” he said, sitting back in a winged leather chair, letting out a contented sigh. “The fondue was incredible. But that was a meal.”
Jeannie smiled to herself as she sorted through the remaining pieces of the mostly completed puzzle between them. Everett helped her by sifting through and pulling out the remaining edge pieces. “So, what was that look all about?” she asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.” He pressed in a corner piece.
“When I read out my fortune.”
Everett’s chin was dipped, but she could tell he was amused. He looked up, his deep-brown eyes alight with pleasure. “I just liked the way you read it,” he said.
*
Everett had never been so full in his life. He was happy to be taking a break from eating and to have some quiet time with Jeannie. He watched her as she scanned her puzzle, enjoying how she bit her lip just slightly while she sized up her piece and searched for its home.
“I’m sorry my family is so nosy,” she said quietly. Her family had moved into the great room and while they were all talking animatedly, they were still within earshot. “They mean well. But small towns, you know.”
“It’s all right,” Everett said. “It’s just that if I gave honest answers to their questions, it might have dampened the mood a bit.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. Your family is great. I’ve had a lot of fun today.”
Jeannie paused. “You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m interested in the honest answers.”
Everett considered. It was just the two of them in a quiet room. There was a chance he may never see Jeannie again. What was the harm in telling her? “My dad taught me to play hockey. He died when I was ten. Things with my family haven’t really been all that great since then.”
Jeannie’s face dropped. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I—”
“You don’t have to be sorry. That’s life. He was generally a really healthy guy but got Legionnaires’ disease and died pretty quickly.” The disease usually only killed people who were unhealthy, or with compromised immune systems. From diagnosis to his death, it had been just under two weeks, barely enough time to come to terms with what was happening and to figure out how to say goodbye. “To be honest, I kind of felt guilty celebrating anything without him after he died. It wasn’t fair that his life was so short. So, that’s why I haven’t really been a Christmas person. But this,” he said, gesturing through the doorway back toward the great room and the scene that was playing out there, Sue and Lyndsay painting with Lyndsay’s new watercolour set, Archie, Jacob, Finn, and Jim playing euchre, and Duke arranging the logs in the fireplace, “is really nice.”
“I know,” Jeannie said softly. She reached across the table and brushed his hand with hers, and the smoothness and warmth of her skin softened the ache in his heart.
The sun had dipped beyond the mountains, and the sky was a deep indigo, already punctuated by stars. Everett picked up one of the last few puzzle pieces and fit it neatly into place. “I guess I was always really angry with my mom for not being able to hold it together for us. She crumbled after my dad died. I wanted her to be stronger.”
“Like you were?”
“I don’t know about that. I could have been a better son.” The second the words left his mouth, he felt a flash of guilt like a punch in the gut. Why had he put the onus on his mother to return their small family to some semblance of happiness? Sure, she’d been the adult, but certainly he’d had a role to play. “I was unfair to her.” Everett picked up the last puzzle piece left on the table and placed it into the middle of the scene, but there were still a few empty spots. “Looks like we’re missing a few pieces.”
Jeannie peered under the table, then back in the box. “Ugh. That drives me crazy. I hate missing pieces. And after all the time putting it together.” She looked up at Everett with an exasperated expression on her face. All he could do was smile. “What?” she asked, a wide grin creeping over her face.
Her annoyance was adorable, and he was tempted to push her further. “I’ve noticed you’re a bit…” Everett paused.
“Just say it.”
“You like things to be just so.”
“What’s wrong with having high standards?”
Everett looked at the puzzle, then up at Jeannie. “Nothing wrong with that. I guess I’m just more of a—” He searched for the right word, not wanting to insult her or ruin the moment. “I guess I’ve always been more okay with perfectly imperfect . You like the rainbow without the rain.”
Jeannie’s expression softened. “Feels like you’re giving me some fodder for a New Year’s resolution.” She shifted the puzzle a bit on the table and smoothed the top so the pieces sat flush at the surface. “Maybe you’ll patch things up,” she said, studying his expression. “With your mother. I know it’s not easy. But I’m sure she’s missing you. She’s your mom.”
“You’re right,” Everett said. And she was. Jeannie wasn’t just book smart, but from everything he’d observed—how loving and attentive she was with her grandparents, how she’d let that dude on the dance floor down easy—she was attuned to people’s emotions as well. “But I don’t want the rest of this day to be about me and my family drama.” He glanced out the window. Time to change the subject. “I’ve seen them a million times, but I can never believe how bright the stars are out here.”
“Agreed,” said Jeannie. “They’re amazing. And you have to make your Christmas wish now,” she said.
“Is that another Carmichael family tradition?” Everett asked. “I’m having trouble keeping track of everything.”
“No, that’s new,” said Jeannie.
“Okay,” he said, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands in his lap. He closed his eyes. “I wish…for a lifetime supply of that lobster bisque.” He opened his eyes and grinned. “Your grandmother is a wizard.”
Jeannie swatted him. “Be serious!” she said. “And you can’t tell your wish, or it won’t come true.”
“Fine,” Everett said, and he closed his eyes and pretended to put something out into the universe.
But he’d already made his wish many times that day, every time he’d looked at Jeannie.
*
After dessert—a decadent B?che de N?el topped with airy Chantilly cream—Everett stood up to help clear dishes but was immediately instructed to sit back down. “You’re our guest,” said Duke. “And you should be charging us overtime for how long you’ve had to stick around here.”
“It’s been my pleasure,” Everett said. He hoped his words came across as sincerely as he meant them.
“At this point, you’d better just stay over again,” said Sue. “No use driving this late at night.”
Everett noticed Jeannie looking up from her seat.
“Why don’t I call and get an updated ETA,” Sue said, “and then how about you play us a couple songs, then, while we clean up? That’ll make for fun work.”
“Happy to. Any requests?” he asked Jeannie. “No Donna Summers.”
“Ha. Fine,” she said. “How about Gordon Lightfoot?”
“You’ve got it,” said Everett. He retrieved his guitar from the front entrance and found a place by the fire. He capo’ed the guitar at fret two and started picking the opening to “Song for a Winter’s Night,” which seemed fitting. The family cleared the table and continued chatting amongst themselves, and Everett was happy to exist amid the din of the evening’s noise rather than as the main event. He played Lightfoot; he played James Taylor, Joni, Elton, and Neil Young, and after a while, one by one, the Carmichaels drifted over to where he was sitting and settled onto the couch to watch him play. Jim joined in with Everett here and there, albeit a little off-key, and the boarders continued on with their euchre game.
“Bravo, bravo!” exclaimed Sue after he’d played the last notes of “Moonshadow.” “You’ve sang for your supper now. CAA said there’s still a big backlog after last night’s storm. So, it’s likely to be the morning. What can I get you to drink?”
He couldn’t imagine putting another single thing in his body. “I might get some air, actually,” he said. “Excuse me.”
“Movie night starts soon,” Sue said, tapping her watch. “Pyjamas are the dress code.”
Everett grabbed his jacket from his room, then slipped out the front door onto the front porch. It was cold, quiet, and still. The fresh snow crunched under his boots on his way to the main road. He stopped at the end of the driveway and looked up at the tall sycamores and the stars dotting the night sky.
The last Christmas gift his dad had ever given him was an Edmund Scientific telescope. Everett had spent hours that winter peering through the viewfinder, his dad over his shoulder, instructing him in the different constellations visible at that time of year through the finder scope. “We’ll go to Jasper in the summer,” his dad had said. “It’s one of the world’s largest dark-sky preserves.”
But his dad hadn’t made it to that summer. The universe was vast, beautiful, and incredibly unfair.
It really, really wasn’t fair. But Everett couldn’t live the rest of his life yearning for what might have been.
A bright light in the sky caught his eye. It was a shooting star.
A sign.
He shivered as the breeze picked up, and he made his way back to the lodge. Through the front window, he saw Jeannie and her cousins bringing bowls of popcorn and chips out of the kitchen and placing them on the table, chatting and laughing and enjoying one another’s company. He would have that again one day too. He would make sure of it.