Page 11 of Peppermint Bark

“Hopefully I won’t be here long enough to find out,” he muttered.

We drove in silence for the final half mile to his parents’ house, as Bing Crosby finished up with his chilling line, “if only in my dreams.”

I hadn’t been home in nearly eight years, either. Since that final Christmas, I’d been a reluctant holiday tag-along: first my college roommate’s family, then my ex-girlfriend Shannon’s family, now Mallory’s family. As I passed new dishes around a different table, I thought about my family’s traditions: Did Nanna still bake her famous pies? Did Mama make ham, or had she switched to beef?

I pictured them gathering around our tiny kitchen table, reaching over my empty place setting. The day I left, my oldest brother Isaac had been with his girlfriend’s family … was she still around? Had they given my seat to her, the way the Clarkes reassigned Alex’s seat to me? Had Levi and Elijah settled down with girlfriends or wives of their own? Was my parents’ house filled with nieces and nephews I’d never meet?

My heart longed for their cheerful celebration, indifferent to my absence. Would I ever again feel the sense of belonging that had been torn from me?

I pulled into the Clarkes’ driveway as Alexander’s eyes swept over his childhood home. A soft exhale passed his lips, the same relief I’d felt every Sunday for three years as I pulled into this driveway for movie night. After our first viewing of The Princess Bride, when Mallory realized how sheltered I’d been, she’d made it her mission to catch me up on pop culture. My apartment was too small and Mallory’s was too messy — she waved off her clutter as 'maximalist decor' — so we took up weekly residence on her parents’ sectional sofa.

I thought of all the times Helen welcomed my arrival with a warm kiss and request to weigh in on her pasta sauce seasoning. All the times Bruce took a generous slice of a new pie recipe I was testing and Mallory grinned in approval when he called me his favorite daughter.

I thought about my trips here without Mallory for what she christened ‘Hobbit Nerd Nights’ to watch The Lord of the Rings with Bruce since she didn’t want to bother learning all the characters. Bruce and I watched Frodo bid farewell to his beloved Shire, tears welling in both our eyes as Bilbo stayed home while his nephew embarked on his journey. I’d been thinking of Elijah hugging me goodbye at the airport, not knowing that when he came home, I would be gone. Had Elijah been as displaced as Frodo when he returned, like his world had moved on without him?

How would I feel, returning to my childhood home as a different person?

Bruce hadn’t judged my tears like my father would have, criticizing me for being too sensitive. He simply shifted a tissue box across the couch, saving a few for himself, possibly thinking of his sons leaving to chase their dreams and wondering if they’d ever return to their home. This home.

I cut the engine and turned to the man sitting next to me. I’d spend three years visiting his family’s home, three years hearing stories about him in his absence … yet he hadn’t recognized my name when I called. When he walked into this house, he’d walk straight up to the room that was still his.

This house felt like my second home, but it was still more his than mine.

I’d been welcomed at Shannon’s parents’ house, yet that ended when she decided our relationship was over. As Mallory’s employee, my connection to the Clarkes was even more tenuous. They would welcome me for as long as Mallory allowed, but if I broke her trust, I’d be cut off from her family too.

The same way my father cast me out of mine.

The Clarkes' house blurred as I blinked back tears, making a silent vow that if by some miracle I ever had the children I wanted, I’d provide a home like this one. They would know deep in their bones they would always have a place that was theirs, an instilled sense of belonging that could never be taken away.

They’d know that they could always come home.

“Thanks for the ride,” Alexander said, his face illuminated by the dome lights as he opened the door.

“I’ll text you tomorrow morning with an update before visiting hours. I mean, official visiting hours.”

His eyes crinkled in a momentary smirk before he stepped out of the car, threw his briefcase strap over his shoulder, and collected his suitcase from the truck bed. He glanced at me through the car window, holding my gaze with an unreadable expression. He shook his head slightly before he strode to the garage, punched in the code and walked inside without turning back.

Chapter 4

Alex

This suit’s lining was itchy as fuck, the velvet fabric was crusty, and the cottony beard felt like razor burn against my cheeks. Somehow, only three days after I’d flown home, Grace and Dad teamed up to enlist me in this ridiculous situation.

“This is the best we can do?” I asked, flicking my wrist as the cheap fur caught on my watch.

“Next time I’ll see if the hospital has an Armani Santa suit.”

“Is that so much to ask?” I said, only half joking.

Twenty minutes ago, a panicked Grace staggered into Dad’s room in a tacky getup: a ratty red faux-velvet jacket down to her calves, wire grandma glasses, and hair pulled up into a fuzzy shower cap. After several seconds, I realized she was Mrs. Claus, but God forbid the North Pole matriarch had a modicum of sex appeal. Guess that’s why there aren’t any little Santa babies … though if I had to provide Christmas presents for all the bratty kids of the world, I wouldn’t want to add more to my Nice list either.

Since that midnight meeting three night ago, I’d seen Grace only briefly. I wasn't avoiding her, exactly, but when she came into Dad’s room, a parade followed. Grace popped by to say something innocuous like, “I’m on my lunch break, want to play UNO?” Dad pressured me to join, discounting my work.

A train of hospital staff followed, drawn to Grace: nurses, respiratory specialists, occupational therapists … hell, even his official social worker chose those times to visit. Dad loved being ‘Grace’s patient,' and a few called him ‘Grace’s dad,’ which really grated, because who the fuck was this girl, anyway?

The worst was that cardiologist, Chan or whoever. Yesterday, he was doing Dad’s chest exam when Grace came by. His professional demeanor went flaccid and his competence melted into simpering puppy eyes, stopping mid-exam to flirt. Instead of getting rightfully annoyed, Dad egged him on, as if that douchebag was good enough for Grace.

The weirdest part: Grace didn’t notice. Not in a girly playing-hard-to-get way … no, she seemed oblivious. She responded with warm courtesy as her eyes flit to me. Most staff ignored my scowling presence, and my noise-canceling headphones kept the riff-raff from interrupting unless Dad needed me.

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