Page 108 of Holly and Nick Hate Christmas
I wanted to let it all go. I wanted to embrace the real reason for the season.
I wanted to stop hating Christmas.
Christmas Eve Night
“Holly?” I jerked awake at the gentle touch on my arm, and shivered. Mom hovered over me, a cautious smile on her face. The dying fire and smattering of sausage balls on the platter—not to mention the ache in my left hip—proved I’d fallen asleep in my Adirondack chair.
Dazed, I sat upright and tugged the blanket higher. “I missed the end of the story?”
“You actually interrupted the story with your snoring.” Mom grinned as she tugged her beanie farther over her ears. “I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
Fabulous. At least Nick hadn’t been there for that.
Nick. My stomach clenched. Would I ever be able to think of him without a gut reaction?
Mom took the seat next to me. “I know it’s cold out here and we should go in, but I wanted to show you something first.” She picked up the box I hadn’t noticed at her feet and rested it on her lap.
“What’s that?” I pulled my legs up under the blanket and bent forward to see.
Mom pointed to the words scrawled in Sharpie across the front.Holly’s Christmas Keepsakes.
I reached over and untucked the flap. She helped open the other side, and suddenly, I was staring at a mass of red and green nostalgia. Clumsy homemade ornaments. Embroidered stockings. American Girl holiday books. “What is all this?”
“Your Christmas memorabilia.” Mom shrugged. “I put it away, bit by bit, when you were a teen and started complaining about the holidays.” She shook her head. “I was reading a parenting book about respecting your children and their differences, and, well, it made sense at the time.”
I picked up a homemade ornament I’d made in the first grade, a crude rendering of a reindeer missing half an antler. “You mean, you put all this away because you thought it upset me to see it?”
“Sounds silly now, but yes.” Mom tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You were so adamant about how much you disliked the holidays—seemed offended, really. I wanted to respect that even though I didn’t understand it.”
“I didn’t even know you noticed.” I traced the glittered outline of the antler.
“Of course I did. Then you stopped coming home for Christmas regularly, so I left it boxed up. It became out of sight, out of mind, I suppose.” Mom touched my arm. “But a little birdie said something this morning that made me think perhaps you needed to see it after all.”
Tears burned the back of my eyes. “I thought my stuff not being with everyone else’s meant you didn’t care as much.”
“Oh, Holly, that’s so far from true.” Mom gripped my arm. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”
“You didn’t know.” The lump in my throat loosened a little. “I should have said something instead of assuming.”
“Whydidyou have that sudden turn? You never wanted to talk about it when you were younger, so again, I chose not topush.” She wrinkled her pert nose. “Maybe that was a bad decision in hindsight. Parenting is hard, Holly.”
“No, you and Dad did great, Mom.” I sighed. “It’s just also kinda hard having a Christmas birthday.”
“I know you got overshadowed some years. I’m really sorry about that too.” It was Mom’s turn to sigh. “I guess your father and I should have thought about that before taking that romantic getaway in March…”
“Mom.” I shot her a horrified look, feeling my cheeks light. “That’s okay.Really.”
Carefully, I laid the ornament back in the box, then smiled at the one below it—a misshapen snowman wearing a swimsuit. “I’m starting to realize I should have done a lot of things differently myself.” I waved the goofy ornament at her. “And not just in arts and crafts.”
“Are you talking about Nick?” Mom pulled out a red plaid stocking and smoothed the tattered seam, her voice morphing into the one she always used when us girls lived at home and had new crushes. That interested-but-going-to-pretend-I’m-not-so-you’ll-keep-talking voice.
“Not just Nick, but yeah, him too. But it’s too late. Just because I had a change of heart about Christmas doesn’t mean he has.” I set the snowman back in the box and closed the flap. “I still don’t know what he really thinks of me.”
“I won’t speak for him, but I do know that he was the little birdie that prompted me to clear some things up here.” Mom tapped the box in her lap.
That was sweet. But that didn’t mean he had true feelings forme.
“And.” Mom folded her arms over the top and leaned toward me, her gaze serious. “He took himself out of the running. Said he refuses to buy the property now.”
