Page 16 of A Christmas Spark
“Time for sleep, sweetie,” Imogen said, taking the book and setting it on the nightstand. “You don’t want to be tired for school tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Katie mumbled, clearly on the verge of falling asleep already. “Can I help make truffles at the shop tomorrow after school?”
Imogen laughed. “We’ll see. I think we’re running low on truffles, you’re right. We might need to make a batch. Or maybe some peppermint bark?”
Katie looked pleased at that possibility, snuggling down into her blankets as Imogen gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered, tucking the blankets up around her daughter before she got up to head back downstairs.
She’d thought about leaving the cleanup for the morning, but she knew she should just tough it out and finish up before bed. She’d have plenty to do in the morning already, with getting Katie ready for school before heading to the chocolate shop.
With a tired sigh, she went to the living room, folding the throw blankets and rearranging the couch pillows, wiping down the coffee table to get the crumbs from the cookies they’d enjoyed. The scent of peppermint and chocolate still lingered in the air, mingled with the fresh scent of pine from the Christmastree they’d picked out together from George Lowery’s farm the weekend before.
Imogen glanced at the tree, feeling a touch of pride. The lights were twinkling merrily, the tree covered in ornaments, most of them handmade. She’d kept several from her own childhood, and she and Katie made a set of new ornaments together every year. When Katie had been too small to help, Imogen had made them herself, with the baby gurgling merrily along next to her as she worked. As Katie got older, they’d each made one of their own every holiday season, and now a third of the tree or so was covered with those special ornaments.
Christmas was her favorite time of year. It always had been, and it was even more so now that she shared it with Katie. There was something even more magical about seeing the season through the eyes of a child, experiencing it all every year at a new age.
With the living room straightened, she headed into the kitchen to wash the dishes. She rolled up her sleeves and started the hot water, stifling a yawn as she did so. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day normally, she thought, between running the shop and being a single mother. The holidays, while wonderful, only added to that never-ending list of things to do that there simply wasn’t enough time for, while still managing to sleep. She was averaging about five hours a night at this point, she thought.
She was grateful for how busy the shop always was, but by the time she handled everything there, ran to pick Katie up from her after-school programs or went to school events, handled delivery drop-offs, and cooked meals, she barely had time to breathe sometimes. But somehow, as soon as Katie looked at her with those excited eyes for something like their planned movie night earlier, Imogen always found herself getting a second wind.
That was what motherhood was all about, she supposed. Finding reserves of energy that she didn’t know she had, all for the tiny human who brought her so much joy.
She put the last dish in the drying rack and rolled her shoulders and neck, stretching out the tension there. As she hung the snowflake-printed dishtowel that she’d used back on the hook by the sink, she couldn’t help, for just a second, picturing what it might be like to have someone next to her. Some rugged, handsome man, holding a second dishtowel and drying the dishes before putting them in the cupboard. Or maybe one who would have done the dishes while she was straightening the living room, so they both could have gotten to bed earlier.
It was difficult not to linger on the fantasy for a second longer, imagining someone sitting next to her as they watched Christmas movies. Handing her tape as they wrapped presents. Making hot cocoa as she popped popcorn for their family movie nights?—
Imogen shook away the image. She and Katie were happy. They weren’t missing anything in their lives, and Katie had never given her reason to think that there was anything in their little family that Katie felt was lacking.
She had her comfortable cottage, she had her business, her precious daughter. They had a perfect life. She had no need to wish for anything more.
Flicking off the kitchen light, Imogen headed upstairs, pausing at Katie’s room. She couldn’t help tiptoeing in to check on her daughter once more. Katie was rolled onto her side, holding a stuffed unicorn in her arms as she slept soundly. Imogen smiled, padding softly into the room to give her daughter another soft kiss on the temple before turning to head to her own room.
Just before she walked out, as she passed Katie’s desk, she paused. A piece of paper there caught her eye in the soft glow of the nightlight—a letter made from red construction paper with writing in silver glitter pen. It looked like the letter Imogen had seen Katie working on. TheDear Santathat she spied written at the top when she leaned a bit closer only confirmed it.
Imogen bit her lip, overwhelmed with curiosity. She knew she should probably not read it, and wait for Katie to offer it up of her own accord. She might not be finished with it yet, and it was important to respect her daughter’s privacy. It probably wasn’t wise to read it—but she couldn’t help leaning forward a bit more, peering at the scrawled silver writing.
After all, she told herself, she was just making sure she could get a jump on anything that Katie really wanted. After last year’s unicorn debacle, she wanted to have the best chance possible at securing whatever special gift Katie was obsessed with this year.
She took a careful step closer, gently picking up the paper as she started to read.
Dear Santa,
I hope you and Mrs. Santa and all the elves and reindeer are doing okay, especially Prancer (who’s my favorite). I wanted to tell you that I’ve been very, very, very good this year. I help my mom out at the chocolate store and I make sure to turn in all my homework on time. Even the stupid homework, like math.
Imogen had to stifle a laugh, pressing her hand over her mouth. The last line was scratched out with silver pen, but still legible, as if Katie had thought twice about calling homework stupid.
Mom said I should be very polite since I’m asking for things. So dear Mr. Santa, I would like to request a few things that I wantvery much. I would like a puffy coat, like the other girls in class have. White or pink, please and thank you. I would also like a pony, but I think we don’t have room for one, so I would settle for one that I can play with, and maybe a doll to go along with it. A cowgirl, I think. I like their hats.
But most important, I want to ask for something for my mom. She’s the best mom in the world, and she works really hard to be an even better mom than that. She makes the best chocolates in the whole world and still finds lots of time to be my mom. I think she could use some help, Mr. Santa. Someone to do some of the mom stuff for her, so she can do stuff just for herself.
Could you maybe bring her a husband for Christmas? He should be tall and have dark hair and like to do the dishes. Also cleaning. If he can make chocolate too she would probably like that, so they have something in common. He should be funny too because she doesn’t laugh enough.
It would be kind of cool to have a dad too. I would rather have a dad than a puffy coat or a pony.
Thank you Mr. Santa and Merry Christmas!!!
Love,
Katie Sanders
