Page 37 of Mistletoe Sky
Willa raised her shoulders, although her face was marred with sorrow.
“I know you care,” Amelie breathed. “I’ve known you my entire life. There’s no way you don’t.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You love Dad.”
“I do,” Willa whispered. “I’ll always love Dad. But that doesn’t mean I can get over it.”
Amelie closed her eyes tightly. On the speakers, the song switched from “Jingle Bell Rock” to “Silent Night,” which felt far too depressing for a bright morning like this. Someone on the Christmas Festival Committee needed to check the algorithm.
“It’s not your fault,” Willa said, reaching out to touch Amelie’s shoulder. “I had to take this job. I had to come back. But I’ll be gone as soon as I can. I don’t belong here anymore.”
Amelie’s eyes filled with tears. She wanted to protest, to remind Willa of how comfortable it had been in the fudge shop, to tell her that you didn’t turn your back on family. (Although they’d already done it before.)
But Willa was already on her way, clipping off to find her camera crew and finish the job she’d come here to do. Amelie stood in stunned silence, her fists clenched, until she realized that Pascal was in over his head in the fudge shop. She hurried back inside to rescue him.
Amelie and Pascal ran out of fudge at the shop at five thirty. After a quick one-hour cleanup, which Amelie could do faster and faster as she got the hang of things, she and Pascal stepped into the mystical night to listen to Christmas music, stroll through the stalls, talk to other islanders, and eat to their hearts’ content. The Caraway Fudge Stall had run out of fudge long ago. Still, Amelie spotted several tourists with Caraway Fudge boxes, eager to head back to their hotels, warm up, and eat a piece of decadent fudge before they slipped into sleep.
A stall that had always been at the Christmas Festival—Jim’s Chili—awaited Amelie at the far end of Lake Shore Drive. Jim’s son, James II, was serving up Jim’s iconic chili recipe, wearing a Santa hat and cracking jokes. When Amelie and Pascal approached, James II greeted Pascal first. “Pasc! Hey! Let me get you a bowl of this good stuff. You look cold. They don’t get this cold over in France, do they?”
Pascal reached for his bowl of chili. “You’re the best, man,” he said.
And then, James II realized Amelie was beside him. “Amelie!” He put down his ladle and hurried around the stall to hug her. “I’ve heard rumors that the Caraway sisters are back, but I wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it.”
Amelie remembered James II from high school, how pimply he’d been, how nervous and shy. It seemed he’d come out of his shell.
“It’s good to see you, James,” she said, her heart swelling. She was curious about how his life had turned out, whether he had a wife and children. Every person she’d grown up with had a story all their own.
James II snapped his fingers. “Can you do me a favor, Amelie? Can you take a big Tupperware of chili up to your dad? I kept meaning to send my son, but he’s off somewhere, playing with friends. I can’t take the time to find him.”
Amelie remembered how much her father had loved Jim’s chili. It would brighten his day, especially after being cooped up during the Christmas Festival.
Before she could overthink it, she said, “I’d love to.”
Pascal beamed.
As Amelie and Pascal mounted the hill to get to Amelie’s childhood home, the sounds of the Christmas Festival filtered out until they could only hear the faint, jingling bells. Just before they knocked on the door, they paused on the stoop of the house, watching the lights from high up.
“I couldn’t believe my first Mackinac Christmas Festival,” Pascal said. “I thought European Christmas Markets were a big deal. But this? This is spectacular.”
“It really is.” Amelie sniffed. Her nose was fizzy from the spices in the chili. She couldn’t believe she was back home again. Then again, if she was truly going to forgive her father, she had to make coming back a priority, time and again.
They knocked on the door.
A moment later, Grandma Mary opened the door, smiling brightly. “Frank, you’ll never believe who came by! And look what she’s brought!”
Amelie and Pascal entered the dimly lit living room to find Frank resting in the armchair, a blanket bundled around him all the way up to his neck. His eyes were glazed, but a soft smile touched his face.
“Amelie,” he said. “You came back.”
Amelie’s heart pumped. “We brought you chili. James II insisted.”
Frank shifted, reaching for the lever that would bring his feet back to the carpeting. Already, Grandma Mary had gone to the kitchen and returned with a big chili spoon and a napkin. “You better eat it while it’s still hot,” she said.
Grandma Mary bustled back to the kitchen, giving Amelie, Pascal, and Frank the room. The television volume was on low, showing a college basketball game. Frank was a Michigan State fan, although he hadn’t gone to university. There’d been too much going on at the fudge shop.
Frank took a big bite of chili and closed his eyes. “It’s just as good as it ever was,” he said. “Jim taught James well.” He opened his eyes again to add, “Just like we taught you and your sister to make the fudge.”
Amelie’s eyes stung with tears that she refused to let fall. “The Festival’s really something this year. It’s magical to be back. Even Willa’s down there, making the most of it.” What she meant was that she had to make a commercial out of it. But she wanted to make things easier on their father.
Frank’s face was shadowed with sorrow. Slowly, he set the Tupperware of chili aside and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I know Willa had a bad time the other night. I know you both did.” He gazed at the television, as though it would give him answers to life’s most pointed questions. “When they said you were coming over, I dreaded it. But I also wanted it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. What a complicated thing it all is, life.”
