touch

“What?” my mom, who’d been working with Aunt Grace to stack the boxes of Christmas decorations, looked up with dismay.

Gran shifted the curtain to the side and looked out. “Don’t worry, Clare. Morik has it clear already. Tess, he sent you in because he knew he’d be done before you warmed. Just take your coat off.”

I peeked out the high window by the door and saw she was right. He only had another few moments of work left.

Hanging my jacket, I took the opportunity to start whispering in ears about the gift I wanted to give Morik. Gran and Aunt Danielle agreed without hesitation. Aunt Grace looked at Mom with worried eyes before nodding. I saved Mom for last knowing she’d be the only one likely to oppose it. But I needed her to agree because she still had it in her possession.

She watched me with a sad look when I approached her. I closed my eyes and leaned in to whisper the words bound to start an argument. “Can I have the family ring to give to Morik?”

My father had last worn the ring, a plain band worn by most of the husbands who married into Belinda’s line. Gran’s own husband never wore it. She’d kept it from him saying he’d just take it off and lose it anyway. He’d been a cheater. When sisters needed to marry like Mom and Aunt Grace, the first one to marry could offer it to her husband. We’d never lost it in the line. According to Gran, it’d seen at least six generations.

Mom pulled back, and studied my face for a moment before nodding with reluctance. I hugged her tightly, trying to put all my gratitude into the embrace as Morik knocked on the door. I hurried to answer it and pulled him in with a smile, excited now that I knew what to give him.

Gran shooed us to the living room with our hot chocolate so we could begin decorating. Mom and Aunt Grace had obtained a beautifully pathetic tree. We worked together to transform it into our own Christmas miracle.

An hour later, lights shone on the thin branches, putting a sparkle to the tinsel and glittering off the ornaments. The tree, lit by those reflections, looked magnificent.

Morik excused himself to scrape the driveway again after hearing the plow pass through. I took the opportunity to wrap his gift in a scrap of paper and tucked it into my pocket. I brought out the rest of the gifts excited to exchange them.

As soon as Morik came back in, we started. There weren’t many gifts, so it didn’t take long. Aunt Grace scolded me for the shirt, but swore she loved it. They all gushed over the earrings and I quickly pointed out that Morik helped me make them. Mom gave me a knit hat to match the first scarf Morik had given me. Aunt Grace gave me a bucket of homemade caramel corn and praline mix, my favorite gift from her, which she only gave at Christmas. It never lasted long. Gran and Aunt Danielle gave Morik and me a set of cookbooks. Gran admitted to purchasing it, but swore she’d thrifted it. She couldn’t stand thinking of things he’d never tried. He smiled thanking her and started thumbing through the pages.

When a knock sounded at the door, we all looked at Mom, her face lit with anxious anticipation. Morik slid on his glasses. He tried to honor my request to keep them off when we were together, including around my family, thanks to Aunt Danielle. But I didn’t think Stephen would be as open. Not at first anyway. I hoped it would change if he stuck around and got to know us. I really wanted Mom to be happy.

After taking his things, she reintroduced him to me. I’d met him once before when I’d gone to work with mom. Then she introduced Gran, who’d yet to meet him. When I turned, I saw Aunt Danielle had disappeared. Of course.

He shook Gran’s hand and turned to Morik. I wondered how Mom would introduce him and what Stephen’s reaction would be.

“This is Tess’s friend Morik,” she said, her excitement over Stephen not dimming.

“A pleasure to meet you Stephen,” Morik said formally, shaking Stephen’s hand.

Stephen nodded with a smile, but I noticed his gaze flick over the hat and glasses. I struggled not to frown at him.

We moved to the table to start dinner. For Christmas, we went all out content to live off leftovers for a while. There were more dishes of food on the table than people.

I enjoyed watching Morik try a little of everything. His eyes widened in surprise when he sampled Gran’s chutnied chicken. After a bite of Aunt Grace’s cheesy-spiced potatoes, he nudged me asking who made them. I nodded in the correct direction and he asked for the recipe. I shook my head, smiling.

Christmas dinner was a celebration of flavors. Mom once explained they came up with the idea to signify life’s choices still left open to us. Many of the dishes clashed with the main course, but on their own, each held a unique fulfilling flavor that had you coming back for more.