Page 56 of Wishing Stone

“We have a lot to celebrate today,” Alexander continued as he moved to press his free hand to my belly. He glanced around at our guests before angling his head down to look meaningfully at me. “It’s time to put the past behind us and focus on all the good ahead. To new beginnings!”

“To new beginnings!” everyone cred out in unison.

I smiled, my heart feeling full as I took a sip of my cider. It truly was a celebration of new beginnings. It seemed as if the pandemic was hopefully behind us, I was with everyone I held dear, and I had a new baby to look forward to. At that moment, I couldn’t imagine life being any better.

“Why don’t we take a walk around the pond and look at all the decorations?” Justine suggested.

“That’s a great idea,” Alexander agreed. Stepping toward me, he took my hand, and our small group began to walk.

White angels with trumpets followed the path around the pond, lighting our way through Alexander’s winter wonderland. As we passed a large pine tree decorated with lights, ornaments, and bows, and topped with a large silver star, I heard Alexander’s mother make a humming sound. I looked down at Helena. It wasn’t unusual for her to make sounds when she was trying to find the right words to communicate, but this wasn’t just random noises. It was more organized.

Her hum was quiet at first and I couldn’t quite make out what it was. After a moment, she seemed to have found the rhythm and began to hum louder to the tune ofHave Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I glanced across the pond and realized the Judy Garland version of the song was playing from the wireless speaker that sat on the golf cart. The sound was faint at this distance, but I could hear it. Helena must have heard it as well.

Alexander stopped walking to look down at her. Hale paused too, as was customary whenever Helena reacted to anything.

Kneeling in front of his mother, Alexander took her gloved hand in his. He had a faraway look on his face when he whispered, “I remember.”

“Remember what?” I asked in confusion.

“A few weeks back, you asked me about holiday traditions,” Alexander said, looking up at me. “I couldn’t recall any. Did you ever end up asking Hale?”

“No. I forgot.”

Hale gave us both a confused look as we waited for Alexander to elaborate.

“I remember my mother taking Justine and me to Dyker Heights to look at all the Christmas lights.”

“Dyker Heights?” Frank questioned.

“It’s a neighborhood in Brooklyn with the most over-the-top Christmas decorations,” Alexander explained. “It’s more extravagant now than it was when I was a kid, but still a sight to see. We’d take the D train to 79thStreet and go house to house—and my mother would sing. Justine, do you remember doing that?”

Justine pinched her brows together as if she were trying to remember.

“I have a vague recollection of—wait!” she suddenly exclaimed. “I do remember. Her voice. It was…” Justine trailed off as tears began to fill her eyes.

“It was beautiful,” Alexander finished for her.

“Like a bell,” Hale added. I considered the few times I’d heard Alexander sing. I’d always thought he had a really good singing voice. Perhaps he’d inherited the talent from his mother.

“That was our holiday tradition,” Alexander said, seeming lost in memory. “Every year, we would ride the subway to Dyker Heights and we’d walk house to house singing Christmas carols. I always looked forward to it.Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmaswas her favorite and it was how we would end the night.”

“It was one of the few times when we didn’t have to worry about—” Justine began but stopped short.

“When we didn’t have to worry about our father coming home and ruining everything,” Alexander finished dryly.

“Yeah. We were just happy, you know?” Justine lifted a finger to her eye and sniffled.

“Maybe we should start the tradition again?” I suggested.

Alexander looked pointedly at me.

“Out of the question, Krystina. I am not going house to house in Brooklyn to sing in front of strangers.”

“Who said anything about going to Brooklyn? There’s no reason why we can’t just sing right here,” Allyson suggested. I smiled at my friend’s ability to read my mind.

As if on cue, Helena’s humming became louder. The end of the song was approaching, but I didn’t want it to signal the end of our night like it had when Alexander was a child. Music had always been a form of therapy for me. I couldn’t play an instrument any more than I could carry a tune—but I always said I couldfeelmusic, and that was exactly what I wanted to channel at that moment.

So, when the song transitioned to the next one on the playlist, I pulled my phone from my pocket to remotely turn up the volume on the speaker. Once the music was projecting more clearly across the pond, I began to sing.

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