Page 199 of A Merry Mountain Christmas

“That’s not magic. That’s nature.”

“But when you let yourselfreallyexperience it,” I say, “it feels like magic.” Even as I say it, I realize this is probably too abstract for him to understand. “Or at least it is for me.”

“Me too,” Mary says, her face filled with wonder.

“Magic comes from magic wands,” Aidan scoffs. “And you don’t even have one that works.”

Mary’s gaze dips to my crotch, and then she quickly averts her gaze, swinging away to face the sink. I can swear I hear her mutter, “Don’t be so sure about that.”

We have the kitchen cleaned up in no time, and Mary starts a pan of hot chocolate, telling Aidan and me to go start decorating the tree. I finally concede and offer to start working on the lights.

Speaking of magic, the light strands aren’t tangled, and all the bulbs work, although I’m sure it has more to do with Mary’s thoroughness than some mystical force.

The tree is halfway lit when Mary joins us, and I consider it a success when she doesn’t de-string the whole thing and restring it. She only makes a few alterations, offering me an apologetic look.

“Sorry. It was just bugging me.”

“It’s your tree,” I say, unable to look away from her. “I’m just the hired help.”

“Did you hire him, Mom?” Aidan asks with a perplexed look. “Did you pay him to decorate the tree?”

“No,” I interject. “I was teasing. You and your mom fed me dinner, so now I’m working to pay it off. But it’s just a joke. I’mhere because I want to be.” I give him a warm smile. “Honestly, there’s nowhere I’d rather be right now.”

He seems content with that answer and joins Mary in guiding my placement of the lights. Once they’re finally placed to their mutual satisfaction, we start on the ornaments.

Many of Mary’s decorations were clearly bought with Aidan in mind—there must be five ankylosauruses—but others are older and have obvious sentimental meaning. It makes me think of our family trees growing up. We’d cut down a fresh tree and decorate it with popcorn garlands and candy canes along with handmade ornaments.

Mary picks up a tiny ceramic stocking that has a photo of a baby on it, Aidan’s name, and “First Christmas.”

Is she thinking about when Aidan was a baby? Or is she thinking about their first Christmas together, wishing her family was still intact? I doubt it’s the latter, but I can’t help thinking she wishes for something other than single parenthood.

She looks up, and our eyes lock. A soft smile forms on her lips, as though she realizes she’s been caught in her reminiscing, and I can’t help myself. I close the distance between us and pull her into a hug. Her body molds into mine, and I’m nearly bowled over by how right this feels—holding her, being part of this tree decorating, even eating dinner together. Likeweare a family of three.

That thought stops me in my tracks. I gave up any hope of having a family of my own when I was sent to prison. This is not my family, and it never will be. I need to remember that.

I release her, and she looks up at me with glassy, red eyes.

“Thank you,” she says. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Would you like me to go?” I whisper. “I can make up an excuse for Aidan.” He’s on the other side of the tree right now, searching for the perfect spot for a Santa ornament.

“No,” she says with a short laugh. “You being here helps more than you know.” She plasters on a bright smile and holds up the ornament to show Aidan, who’s just emerged from his mission. “Looking at your baby pictures always makes me teary.”

“If you want to see a baby, you can go hold Baby Mabel,” Aidan says.

“I know, but it’s not the same,” she says with a wobbly smile, and I wonder if part of her emotional reaction is because she wants a brother or sister for Aidan.

Her voice jars me out of the thought. “We forgot the Christmas music!”

She grabs her phone, and seconds later Christmas music is playing from a speaker on the mantel.

It’s “Jingle Bells,” so I start singing. “Come on, Aidan. Sing with me.”

Soon the three of us are singing, and Mary starts to dance a little. It’s a simple shimmy, nothing like what she did on Friday night, but she still has a rhythm and natural grace most people can only wish for. She grabs Aidan’s hand and gets him to join her, then turns to me. Grinning, I take her hand and twirl her, giving Aidan a twirl next so he doesn’t feel left out.

This is what we needed to move past our awkwardness. We talk and laugh, sing and dance as we finish decorating the tree, until all that’s left is the star that goes at the top. Mary holds it in her hands and stares at it for a few seconds before handing it to me. “Here, Jace. You’re tall. You should put it on.”

I can easily reach the top without a stepladder or chair, but this is their tree, not mine, so I hand it to Aidan. “I think Aidan should have the honors. I’ll lift you up, and you put it on. Are you good with that?”

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