Page 3 of The Nutcracker

Chapter Two

Christmas had always been our favorite time of year. Holding out any longer than Thanksgiving to put up the tree was like torture, but Grandma always said our patience made the reward so much sweeter. There was a time—so long ago now—when my parents were there for the special occasion, as well as my grandfather of course. We had our jobs to do:

I would hang the stockings on the mantle, the biggest one of all being mine, of course;

My mother and father would deck the hall of Grandma’s house with holly and bells;

While my grandfather would dust off the box of decorations and carry it down from the attic, handing my grandmother her most precious keepsakes to nest in the light-covered tree, including the tartan-waistcoated teddy bear that Grandpa had won for her on their very first date to the Coopers Mill fair.

And then there was the music that accompanied the final unveiling of the finished tree. No, it wasn’t the usual Christmas carols or even a croony number from Bing. My grandparents cherished the moment by playing the song that they first danced to, another reminder of Coopers Mill fair.

Grandpa would open their old record player.

He would slide an old RPM45 single delicately out of its sleeve.

And as the needle crackled on the grooves of the record, Buddy Holly’sEverydaywould play while my grandparents would dance in front of the tree, their toes tapping lightly on the floorboards of yesteryear.

To me, those memories didn’t just capture Christmas.

TheywereChristmas.

But as the years passed by, the loved ones in our lives were slowly replaced by framed photos on the mantle above our stockings.

First were my parents who died together in a car crash when I was seven.

Then when I was fourteen, Grandpa went to the grocery store and never came home. They said it was a heart attack, they said everyone at the store did all they could to save him. They said it happened by the apples and lemons. For years I couldn’t visit Kincade’s Corner Store without imagining him lying there, surrounded by crying shoppers and toppled fruit.

These days I just avoided the apples and lemons altogether.

As the memories of Christmases past swirled through my head, my grandmother turned and gave me a confused look. “Where’s the Christmas tree? There’s no Christmas tree.”

We had been escorted into her room at Cedar Village; a cosy and comfortable space with a bed, lampshades and dresser drawers, and a plush high-back armchair facing the window. Outside a squirrel bounced across the snow-covered branch of a tree.

Grandma asked her question again. “Where’s the Christmas tree? It’s still Christmas, isn’t it?”

As I placed her suitcase next to the dresser, the nurse who had met us at the front door and introduced herself as Jillian replied, “We can get you a tree, Marjorie. Once you’re settled we can absolutely put a little Christmas tree in the corner, that’s no trouble at all.”

“A little one. What happened to the big ones? Did Irene Pritchard pinch them? You have to watch that one.”

“Grandma, Mrs. Pritchard hasn’t pinched any Christmas trees. Clearly a big tree isn’t going to fit in here.”

“How do you know? We haven’t tried yet. Why don’t you go home and bring our tree in, we can see if it fits. Just be careful taking the lights down. They’re fickle little things. Bump one bulb and the entire string goes on the blink.”

I didn’t have the heart to remind her we hadn’t put up a tree in the house at all this year. I had planned to, but between the application process to get Grandma into Cedar Village and the extra shifts I had practically begged for at my part-time job, there wasn’t a lot of time for decorating trees.

I glanced at my watch now… realizing I was going to be late for another shift… knowing my supervisor would not be happy.

“Grandma, I’m sure Nurse Jillian will be able to muster up a lovely little tree for you.”

“Of course,” said Nurse Jillian. “Oh, by the way, we promised you an appointment with the new doctor but unfortunately he’s been held up. A snowstorm at the airport in Denver. He won’t be starting till tomorrow, but he’s promised he’ll be here first thing to meet you and your grandmother.”

“Even on Christmas morning?”

She smiled. “When you care for others, there are no holidays. Now, why don’t I get your grandmother a nice cup of tea while the two of you get her settled in?”

“Actually I can’t stay long. I’m late for work. I’ll be back later.”

“My grandson’s an architectural engineer,” Grandma chimed in. “He’s the smartest boy I know. Ask him anything.”

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