Page 84 of Just Say Christmas
Wednesday,December 23
ZORA
Zora told Casey, standing on the stool beside her, “Isaiah’s stirred the pudding for good luck, and now it’s your turn. I’ll hold the bowl, and you stir.”
Casey did it, but said, “I never heard of having pudding for Christmas dinner.” She gazed doubtfully down at the sticky brown mess of breadcrumbs, eggs, chopped nuts, and dried fruit soaked in brandy. “Also, this doesn’t igg-zackly look like pudding. Pudding is all smooth, and it comes in a cup from the grocery store.”
“It’s a steamed pudding,” Zora said. “A different kind of pudding. AChristmaspudding. It’s a tradition.”
“Oh,” Casey said. Still dubious. Never mind.
“Go get your dad,” Zora suggested. “We’ll have him give it a stir, too. Everybody in the family stirs, that’s the idea.”
Casey hopped down from her stool and obliged, and Rhys came down from the office and said, “Ah. Christmas pudding. You know—nobody’s ever made Christmas pudding for me before. Feels very . . . homely.” He smiled at Zora, put his hand on her shoulder, kissed her mouth, and said, “Like family.”
“You have to stir for good luck, Dad,” Casey said. “It’s a tradition.”
“Here’s our luck, then,” Rhys said. He put his hand over Zora’s, they gave the pudding a stir together, and her stupid heart melted all over again.
She’d felt like dancing ever since she’d made her decision about the weddings, even though she still had two months of them to get through before the season slowed down. She felt like dancing and laughingandlike weeping, all at the same time, as if every bit of emotion inside her had bubbled to the surface and was trying its hardest to get out. It was very confusing.
No time for dancing or crying now, so she said, “Isaiah, can you get the charms, please? They’re hiding behind the cutlery tray in the drawer. And the red ribbon from the wrapping cupboard?”
He came back, opened the drawstring on the black velvet pouch, tipped the little silver charms carefully onto the benchtop, and said, “We can each do three, Casey, once Mum puts the pudding into the mold. That’s fair. We should wash our hands first, though, because you have to kind of poke them inside with your finger.”
“What are they?” Casey asked. “Are they for a charm bracelet?”
“No,” Isaiah said. “You put them inside the pudding before you cook it, but first we have to tie some red ribbon around the ring of each one so nobody swallows them or bites them. If you bite one, it could break your teeth, and if you swallowed one, you’d have to poo in a bucket afterwards until it came out, and Mum would have to check the poo every time to look for it, which is kind of gross. Also, they’re real silver and they cost a lot, and if they came out in your poo, you might not want to put them in the pudding again next Christmas, so that would be a waste.”
“Yeh,” Rhys said. “I’d say that’s a safe bet.”
“Oh,” Casey said, and looked simultaneously horrified and fascinated. “That’s so gross.”
“I told Isaiah thatonetime,” Zora told Rhys, who was still laughing. “When you werefive,”she told Isaiah. “Why is that the part you remember?”
“I don’t know,” Isaiah said. “I just do. Also, itiskind of weird,” he told Casey, “but it’s a tradition. That means an old-timey thing you do that probably doesn’t make sense anymore, but you do it anyway. It’s supposed to be your luck for the next year, like stirring, only it’s yourspecificluck. When Mum serves out the pudding, you might get a charm. If you pull out the coin, you’ll get money. The wishbone means you get to make a wish, the horseshoe brings you good luck all over, and the bell means a bride. The thimble is for saving money, and the button is for a bachelor. That means a man who isn’t married, like maybe he’s going to get married.”
“What if the man gets the bell,” Casey says, “and a girl gets the button? Or what if you get the bell, and you’re a kid?”
“I don’t know,” Isaiah said, “except none of it is going to really happen, because it’s not real. But it’s fun to get something anyway and see what it is. Which ones do you want to put in?”
“I want the bell,” Casey said, “because it’s the prettiest, and the wishbone, because that’s like on a chicken. My mom used to save the wishbone on the chicken and dry it on the windowsill, and then we’d put our little fingers around it and break it and make a wish, and the one who got the long piece got their wish. And the button because it’s cute. I think you should have the coin one and the horseshoe and the thimble, because those are about money, and you like money.”
The pudding had steamed away for its required hours, during which time Zora had done her best to make a game of cleaning the house for Christmas, and spent some time being grateful that Rhys had taken care of the big gifts for the kids. No point feeling guilty about that now, she reminded herself. The kids would have a fun Christmas ifshehad a fun Christmas, and she couldn’t do that if she were too stressed.
Now, though, they were having dinner with Zora’s parents, Hayden . . . and Luke. Which so far could be summed up in one word. “Awkward.”
Zora’s mum asked, “Would you pass the beetroot salad, please, Hayden?” He did, and Zora thought,If I have to take a second helping of beetroot-and-carrot salad and nothing else at Christmas in order to be thin, I’m never going to be thin.Which wasn’t a news flash, actually.
Tania put a spoonful on her plate and asked. “Anybody else?” Casey opened her mouth, and Zora gave her the staredown that meant,Nobody wants to hear that you hate it.She thought Isaiah might have kicked her ankle, because Casey jumped a little and shut her mouth.
“So, Isaiah,” Tania said. “Only two days till Christmas. So exciting. Have you and Casey hung your stockings yet?”
“No,” Isaiah said. “Casey says we can’t until tomorrow. We have a tree, but it’s not decorated yet.”
“Shouldn’t let her push you around, mate,” Craig said. Had his gaze landed on Luke once tonight? Or Hayden, for that matter? Not that Zora had seen.
Thinking that was why it took her a second to register her father’s words. She was struggling for an answer, and Rhys had laid his fork down on his plate—probably not a good sign—when Isaiah said, “I don’t.” Not defensively. Thoughtfully. “It’s very important to Casey, and it’s not very important to me. The person it’s most important to should decide, I think.”
