Chapter Seven #2
Clara glanced at her watch. She wondered how long this cocoa was going to take.
She was tempted to start talking about everything, but she knew that she was going to need Grams’s undivided attention for this.
She grabbed a box of tissues from the counter and patted her soggy eyes as she waited.
Her grandmother added her signature peppermint flavoring and continued stirring.
Grams was always so calm—so patient. Clara wished she could be more like her.
On the other hand, was it absolutely necessary to make cocoa from scratch at a time like this?
She was sure there was an instant cocoa fix for times such as these.
Couldn’t Grams hurry up the process, just this once?
Clara laid her head down on her folded arms on the countertop.
She closed her eyes and continued to wait. Her head ached.
Finally, she heard the splash of cocoa being poured into mugs. She raised her head to see Grams top off each one with a generous squirt of whipped cream and a dash of sprinkles.
“Now, let’s go into the living room, and you can tell me what’s going on.”
Clara let out a breath of relief and stood. She walked to the sofa, followed closely by Grams and the beagles. The snow was falling outside, and they both stopped to gaze out the window to savor the scene. Even Clara could appreciate the momentary stillness.
They sat together on the sofa in front of a warm fire. The dogs sat at their feet. With steaming mugs of perfect cocoa, Clara felt calmer already, her entire body relaxing. She wasn’t quite sure how her grandmother always managed to do that.
Grams placed a heavy patchwork quilt over their laps. They both took their first careful sip.
“What’s wrong, sweetie?” her grandmother asked, holding her cup close to her chest.
“It’s Brent.” She sniffed.
“Did you have a fight?”
Clara shook her head. “He’s being deployed.”
“Oh?”
“For a year! And we don’t even get to spend Christmas together.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Her grandmother took a long, resigned breath. She set her mug down and reached for Clara’s hands. She peered into Clara’s eyes with that look of assurance that only she could give.
Clara gave her a faint smile and rested her head on Grams’s shoulder, simply enjoying being next to her. Her Grams stroked her hair with a comforting rhythm.
Finally, her grandmother spoke. “You know, Clara, if you and Brent are meant to be, there will be other Christmases in your future.”
Clara squeezed her fists in frustration. “But this Christmas was the one I needed to figure out if he’s the one—like with you and Grandpa.”
Her grandmother raised an eyebrow.
“This was going to be it, Grams. I just had that feeling. I really like this guy. More than I even knew.” She gazed off into the distance, thinking about his dimpled smile and dreamy eyes. “He’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for my entire life.”
Grams nodded. “Well, maybe you just need to wait a little longer for him.”
Clara sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m willing to wait until next Christmas for him.
I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of relationship.
It sounds so hard.” She stared down at her lap, facing the difficult truth: As much as she wanted a future with Brent, this was not what she had signed on for.
She moved her gaze to the floor. The dogs seemed to look up at her with sympathy.
“I just can’t see a future for us with all of this to deal with. ”
Grams stopped stroking her hair and took her by the chin. She had a serious expression on her face. “Clara, I know you like things done quickly, but sometimes life doesn’t work that way. Sometimes, you have to play with the hand you’re dealt.”
Her grandmother’s words felt like a sudden slap. Clara sat up straighter. She swallowed, unsure how to respond.
It was true. Life didn’t always happen the way we wanted it to; she was old enough to know that. But in her defense, this seemed like an especially unfair situation. A little more sympathy would have been nice.
And yet, this was one of the things she loved most about her grandmother.
She wouldn’t just tell her what she wanted to hear.
Grams’s no-nonsense honesty was as valuable to Clara as her comforting hugs were.
Sometimes in life we need someone to grab us by the shoulders and smack us in the face—metaphorically speaking.
That someone for her had always been her Grams.
Still, it didn’t make it any easier to accept, especially right now.
Clara squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn’t been looking for a lesson on the hard realities of life.
Not tonight. No, right now she wanted shared outrage over the situation.
She needed Grams to get furious on her behalf and come up with a plan to get her out of this mess.
She needed a show of solidarity to fight this problem.
Clara took a sip of her cocoa too quickly. The heat burned in her throat, and her eyes watered. She took a moment to recover, waiting for her grandmother to say something else. She didn’t.
Clara let out a long exhale. “I guess you’re right. But isn’t timing everything? And the timing for me and Brent . . . well, things couldn’t possibly be stacked against us any more than they are. The circumstances are definitely not on our side.”
Her grandmother remained quiet. She sipped her cocoa slowly, then set it back down. She looked out the window as the snowfall got heavier around the house. Finally, she turned toward Clara, a thoughtful look on her face. She pursed her lips and nodded. “Or, maybe they are.”
Clara rubbed her temple with her free hand. She had no idea what her grandmother meant.
“Clara, I was a military wife for many years.”
“Yeah, I know.” Her tone was more curt than she had intended it to be.
She knew her grandpa had been in the Army before she was even born.
He’d even had military honors at his funeral when he died a few years ago.
What she didn’t understand was why her grandmother was turning the focus to herself right now.
Her grandmother reached out and held her by the elbows. Her expression was soft. “Distance can be hard on a relationship. But it can also create special connections too. In fact, sometimes it can bring a relationship even closer.”
Clara rolled her eyes. Why was her grandmother not seeing her side on this? She didn’t want a “Look at the bright side” speech—not now.
She pinched her mouth tight as she fought back a new batch of tears. “But Brent and I . . . our relationship never even got the chance to really get going, to see what would happen. He could have been the one, and now I’ll never know.”
Grams leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Don’t deprive yourself of what could be a blessing in disguise. Remember, time is a gift.”
Clara let out a breath of frustration. She closed her eyes to think. She wanted to continue arguing her side with Grams, to make her understand why this was unfair, no matter how you looked at it. But how could she do that when she didn’t even understand what her grandmother was talking about?
She leaned her head back against the sofa and held the warm mug against her stomach.
It was no use. It didn’t look like her grandmother was going to fix this after all.
She wasn’t going to find a way to get Brent out of the deployment.
She wasn’t even willing to give it the appropriate coddling it deserved.
No, it looked like Clara was on her own.
Grams was quiet as she laid her head back on the sofa and pulled the quilt up over her shoulders.
Clara decided to simply enjoy the warmth of the fire.
Soft piano music played from the record player.
The beagles had gone to sleep, and Clara recognized the familiar breathing pattern of her grandmother, who slowly began to drift off as well.
She loved this about Grams—her ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time.
They could be mid-conversation one minute, and she’d be out like a light the next.
Clara supposed that was one of the benefits of growing old—being so comfortable with your surroundings that you could nod off anytime you liked. Must be nice.
Clara lifted her head and passed an eye over the living room.
All the familiar Christmas decorations were there.
The garland over the hearth, the giant bow on the stair landing.
The adorable Santa knick-knacks were scattered about.
The room was dim, except for the bright lights on the tree and the glow of the fire.
Clara felt sick in the pit of her stomach.
Her thoughts went right back to Brent. She wished he was with her right now, watching the snowfall from the window and enjoying the fire next to her.
Instead, he was busy getting packed for his deployment—the deployment that would separate them. Probably for good.
Her eye landed suddenly on a worn brown box in the corner of the room, next to the tree: her family’s decorations. Decades of old ornaments and handmade trinkets all sat patiently in the weathering box, waiting to be displayed again for another season.
She set down her mug, and stayed quiet as she rose from the sofa so she wouldn’t wake Grams. She tiptoed over to the corner and knelt beside the box.
Peering inside, she was greeted by the sight of childhood relics, along with fluffy strands of garlands and a glittered-filled star.
She dug farther into the box and was caught off guard by the blinding gleam of a golden ornament.
She pulled it out, and it glistened against the bright lights from the tree.
It was beautiful. Clara didn’t remember ever seeing it before.
It had a small clasp on one side and a shiny braided chain attached.
It was perfectly round and the size of a compact mirror. It had to be an antique.
She turned it over in her hands and opened it with care.
It was a pocket watch. A timepiece sat on one side.
On the other was a black-and-white photo of a young couple.
She recognized the familiar faces—her grandparents.
She pulled it out. Her grandpa, in his Army uniform, appeared handsome and happy.
Her Grams, in a party dress, with a huge open-mouthed grin.
Clara flipped the picture over. Someone had written on the back.
Christmas 1967.
Clara thought for a moment about the stories her grandmother had told her.
This would have been their first Christmas together.
This was the Christmas they had fallen in love, never thinking twice about it.
They had simply known. She looked closer and saw a tiny inscription on the ornament that had been covered by the picture.
Time is precious when love is new,
A Christmas wish will soon come true.
She narrowed her eyes. A Christmas wish? She looked at the picture of her grandparents, young and carefree. Clara thought about what that first Christmas must have been like for them—meeting when he had just returned from a deployment during the Vietnam War.
Was a magical Christmas wish what had brought them together? Is that why everything had been so perfectly simple for them?
A Christmas wish will soon come true. Was it possible? Clara thought about the magical Christmas she had been expecting to have with Brent, and then about the long and complicated year that was in store for them if they stayed together. All she really wanted was to skip right over it entirely.
She felt ridiculous for wanting something so impossible, so badly. Still, Clara knew she needed to try this—for herself, for Brent, and for their relationship. She had nothing to lose, anyway. If a magical wish worked for her grandparents, then maybe it could work for her and Brent.
Clara closed the pocket watch with determined focus.
She wrapped her palm around it and squeezed it tightly.
She pressed her lips together and took a slow breath in through her nose.
In that instant, Clara made the decision to believe in Christmas magic with her entire heart.
Without thinking any further, before she could chicken out, she closed her eyes and made a wish for the one thing she wanted more than anything in the world at that moment. Brent was worth it.
She squeezed her eyes tighter and held the ornament in one hand, her fingers curled around it. I wish I could skip right past the next 365 days.
The ornament became hot in her hand, which Clara found equally thrilling and terrifying. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to loosen her grip on it. A strange euphoria enveloped her. Her body felt an intense tingle all over, both warm and sedating, as if she’d swallowed a shot of brandy.
She cautiously opened one eye to find the tree lights pulsing with a brilliance she had never seen before. She opened both eyes. The splendor of the ordeal was over before she knew it.
The next second, the ornament went cold. The tree lights were still again. Clara furrowed her brow, wondering if she had imagined the whole thing. She stared at the ornament in her hand. It now appeared insignificant.
Clara felt ridiculous, suddenly realizing how outlandish the idea of a magical ornament was. She looked over at Grams, still asleep. She let out a sigh of relief that her grandmother hadn’t witnessed any of it.
She dropped the ornament back in the box, hopped up, and wiped her hands on her thighs.
She backed away from the box carefully with her hands up in defense.
Of what, Clara wasn’t sure—perhaps her own sanity.
She took one last sideways look at the box, then turned around and headed back to the sofa—to Grams, her cocoa, her blanket, and her snow-filled window.
For tonight, anyway, it was all she needed.
Clara thought about what she wouldn’t give to actually have a magical ornament to fix all her problems. She shook her head and laughed inwardly at the absurdity of the idea.
It was a nice fantasy. But Clara knew the truth. The next morning, she would be forced to face reality.