Chapter Twenty #2
Everyone sang along to Pete’s attempt at an Elvis impersonation.
Clara was having a good time with Brent already.
She always did. She took a moment to appreciate the picture-perfect scene.
She glanced over at the kitchen where his parents were busy filling drinks and hosting friends.
Her gaze slowly rotated around the living room.
She watched the other guests. They hugged in greeting.
They laughed. Everyone was happy. It was a beautiful illustration of the importance of being together with loved ones for the holidays.
Time together with friends and family. Sharing in the joy of the season.
It all served as a necessary reminder that she and Brent really had needed to spend Christmas together.
She thought about what they would be doing right now if she hadn’t made that wish.
He would be off in the desert and all alone at Christmas.
He would be missing out on all of this—and she would be too.
They would have been deprived of experiencing one of the best moments that life can offer. Despite all the messiness, at that moment, Clara knew one thing with certainty: She had made the right decision in making that wish.
As she perused the room, her eyes stopped on the Christmas tree.
Her gaze landed on the star that stood atop.
Her mouth opened and something stirred inside her.
It was familiar. A tingle coursed through her spine.
Her eyes remained glued to the star. There wasn’t anything extraordinary about it.
It didn’t sparkle like the one at the hotel.
It didn’t light up. There was little grandeur about it at all.
It appeared to be made of simple wood and painted a basic shade of blue.
Still, there was an allure about it that she was drawn to.
Brent noticed her staring and nodded toward it. “Our tree is still missing something, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t worry. I told my parents we’d be taking that with us tonight. They just wanted to show it off for the party.”
She looked at him, not understanding.
“It was nice of you to loan it to them last year.” He laughed. “Since the crickets had other plans for your tree.”
“Yeah, they sure did,” she said with a fake laugh. Those crickets again. She rolled her eyes.
“But this year, and for every Christmas from now on, that star goes on our tree.”
Clara was silent. Her brow furrowed. She tried to piece together clues so she could make sense of what he was saying.
“I made that for you, after all.”
“You made that?”
Brent turned to face her and sucked in a breath.
She shook her head, still not understanding. She stared at the star again. It was impossible to take her eyes off it. Clara saw a faint vision play out in her mind. It didn’t feel like a memory exactly, not from real life—more like a memory of a dream.
Brent’s jaw became firm. “Yes, Clara. It was the gift I made for you last Christmas.”
The sharpness of his tone broke the spell she was under.
An abrupt laugh escaped her throat that she’d never heard come out of her before. “We didn’t even know each other last Christmas.”
Clara covered her mouth with her hand, forced her lips together, and squeezed her eyes shut.
She knew better than to say something stupid like that.
It felt as if the words had jumped out of her mouth before she could even stop them.
It was as if she had been so lost in thought over that dumb star that she lost all ability to think.
Maybe she’d been so relaxed she got caught up in the nostalgic feelings of Christmas and forgot about their current situation entirely.
Or maybe the stress of this overwhelming lie was becoming impossible to handle.
Maybe she was beginning to crack. Either way, she was overcome with a desperate desire to end this whole charade.
She couldn’t keep up with this act much longer.
Part of her wished Brent would just tell her everything she’d missed instead of quizzing her all the time.
Every conversation with him was a test of her memory—a test she continued to fail.
The only way it would stop, though, was if she told him the truth.
But if she did that, he’d probably run for the hills, or at least a psychiatrist.
Brent lowered his head and ran his hands through his hair. His frustration was becoming impossible to hide.
Clara felt her chest tighten. She didn’t blame him for reaching the end of his rope with her inexplicable and all too frequent lapses in memory.
No, it wasn’t his fault. He had been incredibly patient with her up to this point.
Nothing about this ridiculous situation made any sense.
There was no way to explain it to him—why she hadn’t remembered meeting his parents, or those dumb crickets, or that aggravating ringtone, or his peanut butter allergy, or his adorably named dog—and now, this Christmas gift?
Clara shook her head as if erasing an Etch A Sketch to start over. “I’m sorry, Brent. I’m not sure why I said that.” She felt a pain in the back of her throat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to think of what to say next.
She remembered his answer about a blue star from the game at the squadron party the other night.
The best gift he’d ever given her—apparently—was this tree topper.
She folded her arms across her stomach and looked down at her feet.
She still didn’t know why this simple gift was such a big deal.
All she knew was that, by the look on his face, it was.
She blew out a stream of air. “Of course I remember the gift. I’m so sorry,” she said.
Brent stared at her. The usual warmth in his expression was missing.
Clara turned away, unable to look him in the eyes. She glanced out the window to the backyard. It was dark, except for the orange glow from a wood-burning firepit. She needed to pull herself together. She needed to sort out everything he’d told her. Right now, she needed some air.
“That fire out there looks nice; I think I’ll go sit for a minute.”
Brent said nothing as she hurried to the back door.
She stepped out into the backyard. The fire blazed with heat.
She sat down and sank deep into a chair, her head falling backward.
She was relieved nobody else was out there.
She needed a minute alone to wrap her mind around everything.
She couldn’t keep doing this. They couldn’t possibly pick up where they left off last year, especially now that they were on entirely different timelines.
What would happen to their relationship if this Christmas magic thing didn’t make her fall in love? They were in two totally different places, and she had no idea how to get them back to a shared reality.
Clara knew she could fall in love with Brent. If this was a normal relationship, it would probably happen anyway, all on its own time. But she didn’t have that option anymore. No, she needed Gram’s magic ornament to finish what it started and see this thing through to the end.
“Transitions are hard,” said a voice from behind her.
Clara turned around to see Christine, a plaid blanket wrapped around her. She handed Clara a new cup of eggnog.
“Thank you,” Clara said, taking the cup. “Is it obvious?”
“Let’s say I know a thing or two about it.
I dealt with plenty of tough transitions in the twenty years that my husband was in the Air Force.
” She sat down in the chair beside Clara.
“Sometimes we build up their return in our minds. We have this expectation that it will be all romance and roses once they’re back, that it’ll all be easy again.
But the reality is that, initially, you’re just out of sync sometimes.
” She took a sip of her eggnog and looked up at the sky.
“And it takes some time to get back on the same wavelength.”
You have no idea. “Thanks,” Clara said. “I think you’re right.”
“You know, Clara,” she continued, “when you drove out here to see us when Brent had been injured—”
Clara sat up straight in her chair. He had been injured?
“It meant a lot to us that you came to be with us. It was hard in those first few hours when we had no idea if he was even alive.”
Clara leaned forward, her eyes widening.
“When we finally got the call that he was okay—with only a few bumps and bruises—there was nobody we would have wanted there with us more than you.”
Clara only nodded, but her mind was racing.
Brent had been injured. He had been in actual harm’s way for a whole year.
Clara took a moment to think about all he must have endured during his deployment.
Meanwhile, there she’d been, back home safe and sound, complaining to him about something as trivial as crickets in her Christmas tree.
And now, here she was, finding herself frustrated with him.
And for what—having memories? For the first time since she’d heard the word deployment, Clara began to think about what she should have thought about much earlier—what it would mean for Brent.
She had been so focused on herself and how this experience would affect her.
She had never stopped to think about what it must have been like for him.
What had he gone through over the past year?
How could she have been so self-centered? She wished she could have been more supportive of him and all his deployment involved. She wished she had been there to help him through it.
“Room for one more?” Brent’s voice sounded behind them. He took another seat by the fire.
Christine stood up. “I should probably go inside and make sure everyone’s good on drinks.” She touched Clara gently on the shoulder before turning toward the house, leaving the blanket behind for her.
It was just the two of them by the fire. Clara reached over and took his hand.
“Brent,” she said, placing the blanket across both of their laps. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged.
“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting lately. I know I’ve been out of sorts since you’ve been back.”
He nodded, gazing at the fire.
“I don’t want to talk about me though. I want to know what you went through over there while you were deployed. I mean, like really know.”
Brent was quiet, his eyes focused on his lap. He seemed deep in thought.
Clara waited patiently in silence. The crackle of the fire was the only sound.
She was surprised at the heaviness of his back as she watched him ponder something.
Brent had always seemed so self-assured, so optimistic.
He’d never seemed particularly stressed to her.
Probably because he planned everything out so perfectly.
His checklists seemed to provide him with stability and confidence.
Now, he looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He appeared to be wrestling with whatever was on his mind, feelings he couldn’t control.
To see something push against him so strongly like this caught her off guard.
She wondered if the deployment version of herself had known about all he’d been carrying around with him. She wondered if she had helped him through any of it. At that moment, she wished she’d been the one to do it.
Brent raised his head. “There will be plenty of time to talk about that kind of stuff—again.” He smiled. “I think I’d rather enjoy being here at this party with you tonight.”
She nodded, understanding the part that went unspoken.
She was relieved to see his smile return, the one she’d come to expect over the past couple of months.
It was always full of hope. Although, she couldn’t help but wonder now if there was another side to him—one that she found herself wanting, more than anything, to get to know.
He looked her straight in the eye, his expression turning serious. “I do have one question for you, though.”
Her stomach knotted. It was only reasonable that he was going to finally demand some kind of explanation for her memory loss. He certainly deserved one. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the question she could no longer avoid.
He looked at her from underneath his eyebrows. His intensity gave way to a flirtatious smile. “Would you like to make some cookies with me tomorrow?”
Clara let out an exhale of relief. She nodded with enthusiasm. “I would love to,” she said.
Now just wasn’t the right time. And timing, she was quickly learning, was everything.