Page 90 of A Love Like Christmas Time
Soft snowflakes fall from the sky as I close up my café, a gust of ice-cold wind sending a shiver down my spine.
Lauren is still at my place, having tasked Kieran with feeding her cats for the evening as she continues to ice gingerbread hearts and stars for the Christmas market. I’m about to head home, order pizza for us, and help her package everything up.
I pull the key from the lock, quickly slipping it into my pocket and keeping my bare hand in there for warmth. As I turn onto the sidewalk, I almost run into a smaller, scarfed-up figure.
“Sorry,” I mumble and take a step back.
Dawn’s wide, shocked eyes dart to me. “Sorry, I…” she stutters, eyes darting like she’s scouring an escape route.
“I don’t bite,” I tell her, but she’s still completely rigid. Her cheeks move as if she’s opening her mouth under her scarf to say something.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. My hands are getting cold, and I’m treading in place to keep my feet from freezing.
The fabric of her scarf muffles her words. She quickly pulls it down.
She seems so small and lost. A sharp pain shoots through my chest because, for a moment, I see myself in her. Which feels ridiculous. She’s a stranger. Yet, for a second, there are only similarities. Dejection. Rejection. Disappointment.
“We shouldn’t have ambushed you. Hell, maybe we shouldn’t have come here at all.” Her words tumble over each other. “Mom always used to tell me about you growing up, and I was really excited to meet my big brother,” she continues, her eyes dropping to the ground. I blink once. Twice. My heart aches for her. “I don’t know. I think I hoped you’d be happy to have a little sister.”
She clears her throat and shrugs. “I’m sorry. I was caught up in my own excitement and didn’t stop to consider the implications for you or Mom.” Tears shimmer in her eyes.
“It’s not that easy,” I say roughly, then nod for her to walk with me, though I turn for a round around the main square instead of my place. “Come on, let’s walk. I’m freezing.”
Wayward Hollow is completely deserted. Scattered snowflakes dance in the warm light by the street lanterns, and there’s the occasional silhouette in warmly lit windows.
“I have to apologize too. My first reaction was unfair to you.”
“I get it though,” she mumbles, and from the corner of my eye I watch her gaze drop to the ground again. I take a deep breath.
“Two things can be true simultaneously. I can think it’s kind of cool to have a sister—” Her head whips around and she stares at me with wide eyes, mouth agape. “—but I can also be sad that you had our mom growing up, and I didn’t.” I clear my throat. “I understand this is not your fault, but that knowledge alone doesn’t make it easier for me to deal with this… resentment.”
“But do you think that maybe one day you could work past that resentment?” Her voice breaks, as if she doesn’t quite have the courage to ask but pushes herself to do it, anyway.
That is the real question, isn’t it? As much as I want to tell her that, of course I will get past it, there’s simply no way of knowing. Anger is still ever-present when I think about letting her and my mother into my life. A small flame, occasionallyreignited with gasoline. I don’t think it will ever completely extinguish, but I might be able to get it to tea light-sized.
“Only time can tell, I guess.” I take a deep breath, coughing when the cold air stings in my lungs. “It could take a long time, though.”
She kicks a pile of snow. “Do you think that maybe during that time we could still stay in touch?” Her voice is full of careful hope.
“I think that I won’t know until I try.”
She stops in her tracks, and when I turn my head to her, her face lights up.
“We’ll go at your pace,” she declares, nodding eagerly. “I promise.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to me. “Can I have your number? I promise I won’t be annoying.”
“You don’t need to walk on eggshells. As long as you don’t catch me as off guard as last time.”
“Okay.” She grins, and I can see all the hopes she had for our encounter in the way her face lights up brighter than Lauren's house. I take the phone from her, put in my contact details with trembling fingers, and hand it back.
“Thank you.” She puts it back in her pocket and, before I realize what’s happening, throws her arms around me. Before I can react, she lets me go again.
“Okay?” I mutter, confused, my entire body stiff as a board.
“Thank you, Caleb. God, this is exciting!”
“Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got to—” I motion towards Henry’s clinic.
“Of course, of course. Have a good evening.”
