Page 4 of A Curvy Wonderland

Walking down the snow-lined sidewalk, I hoisted the bag over my shoulder of Christmas pajamas that I bought specifically for Tatum and Lucy. We would all match in the sets that were red and white and had little decorations of reindeer and Christmas trees so we could get on the Garland Express and take a scenic ride around town while drinking hot cocoa and telling Christmas stories.

Once I reached their cedar shake home, decorated with lights like a little gingerbread house, I pushed the door open and walked in. This place was basically a second home, and Delilah was like a second mom to me. I missed her husband, Clarence, too, although not as much as Tatum and Lucy. They missed their dad so much, and we spent plenty of time making art to give him upon his return. Hopefully my plans for the holiday break would help keep them occupied until he returned as planned on Christmas Eve.

I walked through the front hall and got to the dining room table where the girls were eating breakfast with their mom. But instead of the usual chatter at their breakfast table, there was a strange silence amongst them. Delilah wasn’t even chastising Lucy for slurping.

I wanted to ask what's going on but didn't want to rock the boat either. At least the girls weren’t fussing at each other. So, I put on a smile and said, “Good morning.”

The three of them looked up at me. Delilah managed a half smile, but the younger two girls quickly stared back down at their meals.

“Well, that's a warm welcome,” I said through the tension rising in my chest. Suddenly the bright red pajamas I wore felt too festive and loud compared to the depressed atmosphere. Something was definitely going on. It was hard to keep my mind from jumping to the worst-case scenario.

Delilah got up and walked toward me, saying, “Come with me. I want to show you something in the laundry room.”

“The laundry room?” I had no idea what she’d want me to look at there, since laundry wasn’t usually part of my job, but I followed Delilah to the small laundry area off the garage. The girl's clothes hung on small pink hangers on a rack over the washer and dryer, along with a couple sets of Delilah’s uniform. She shut the door, boxing us in with the slightly humid smell of the dryer as it tumbled their clothes.

“What's going on?” I asked Delilah.

Her features were drawn, and she looked so much older than her thirty-five years as she said, “Clarence isn't going to make it back in time for Christmas. Flights were delayed because of mechanical issues, and it will be after New Year's before he makes it back. We don’t know what day for sure yet.”

My heart sank all the way down to my fuzzy white socks. “Can’t they get him on a different flight?”

“They’re working on it, but he’s not at the top of the list. Some people have been deployed longer.” Her eyes were on the linoleum floor, blinking quickly. “The girls cried themselves to sleep last night because they wouldn't get to see their dad on Christmas, and I'm worried that the whole holiday is ruined.”

My heart ached for all of them. I could only imagine what it would be like if I didn't get to celebrate with my dad, much less my husband, after he’d been away for so long. “Is there anything I can do?”

She looked at the bag in my hand. It had fallen halfway open, and I was sure she could see the matching pajamas inside. “I know you had so many fun things planned, but I really think it would be best for the girls if they could focus on helping other people this holiday,” she said. “Maybe that would get their minds off of the delay, and they can focus more on what they can give.”

I understood, but at the same time it made me sad. Wouldn’t the girls just miss out on a year of Christmas memories, making it even worse that their dad wasn't here? But Delilah was my boss, and she knew them best, so I couldn't exactly argue. “I guess I can call Mrs. Mulberry at Santa's Elves and see when we can get on the volunteer schedule. They could always use help.”

Delilah met my eyes now, her expression more composed. “Actually, when we were getting our Christmas tree last night, I got to talking with Mrs. Green at Emerald Acres. They're starting a giving tree, or rather, her son is, and she thinks that he could use some help.”

“Eldan’s running a charity?” We both went to the same school, and he was almost as much of a Scrooge as the guy who ran Scrooge’s Diner. It was the one building that had absolutely no Christmas decorations, no matter what time of year it was.

Delilah shrugged. “According to his mom. It'll be a first for all of us.”

I was about to tell her that the girls and I could still have a good Christmas break, still focus on the fun things in town, without having to work with such a grumpy person. In fact, I could only imagine that his mood would bring everyone else down. But before I could say anything, Delilah said, “They're expecting you all at eight thirty. So once the girls finish eating you all can walk that way.”

My lips parted in a stunned silence. It wasn’t a question–it was a plan set in stone. “When did you all find this out?” I asked.

“Just before the Christmas tree lighting. I wished he would come back in time, but so far, the magic hasn’t worked this year.”

I frowned. Maybe something had happened with the star. Because apparently my wish hadn't worked either. I'd hoped that this would be the best Christmas ever, but now it was looking like I would spend it with a grumpy senior at my school and two heartbroken little girls.

Delilah patted my shoulder and said, “I'm going to tell Tatum and Lucy goodbye and head to work. Lots of packages to deliver.”

I nodded, following her out of the laundry room. Back in the dining room, she gave each of the girls a kiss on the cheek, told them she loved them, and then she was out the door.

Since I hadn’t eaten yet, I sat across from them at the table, pouring myself a bowl of cereal. The chair squeaked underneath me as I sat, the only sound in the room aside from Lucy’s slurping. The bowl was at her lips, tilted to cover her face as she finished it off.

Tatum huffed out a sigh, swirling her own spoon through a soggy bowl of cereal. “Did you hear about Dad?”

I nodded. “I'm so sorry.”

Tatum’s lower lip trembled, and Lucy set her bowl down loudly, looking between us.

“Do you want a hug?” I asked.

She nodded.

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