Page 174 of The Holiday Fakers
“I made a wish when we went to the spring.”
Martha glances from him to Marv. “If you make a wish at the spring, it always comes true. Especially if it’s about love.”
She looks around the room at the rest of us. “I know she’s not going to be here for Christmas. That’s too soon for the magic to work. She’s comingnextyear.”
Silence. I don’t know what to say, and it seems no one else does either. I want to hug Martha and Ethan, take away the pain on my brother’s face, and reassure his little girl that it’s okay to want a mom who’s alive.
“Well, um …” Mom begins. “Just as long as she doesn’t arrive when Grandpa and I are on our cruise.”
Martha’s face falls. “I forgot about that. When are you going?”
“Fall, sweetie. Not for ages yet.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“A month,” Mom says, then winces as Martha’s mouth falls open.
“But that’s forever!” she gasps, her chin wobbling.
“No, no, sweetie! It’s not long, I promise!” Mom says, getting out of her chair and taking Martha’s hands. “And Nana and Papa will still be here.”
Martha nods. “Okay.” She takes a breath. “They can meet my new mommy first.”
“Sweetheart—” Ethan starts, but the door opens, cutting him off.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Dad says loudly. “I hear some people want to open their presents early!”
“Santa!” Martha yells, sliding off Ethan’s lap and running to his side. “Look, everyone! It’s Santa!”
Everyone except Ethan chimes in excitedly.
I glance his way and mouth, “You okay?”
He nods, then forces a smile and turns to Martha, who’s pulling Dad into the room.
“You have to give out our presents first,” she says, holding up a bag. Dad reaches for it, but she hugs it close to her chest. “You can help me.”
“Okay,” he says, his eyes twinkling. “Who’s first?”
Martha pulls out a present. “For Grandma and Grandpa.”
He follows her across the room so she can give it to Mom.
“Thank you, honey. Can I open it now?”
“Not yet, because everyone got the same. Kind of. You’ll see.”
She hands out the rest of the gifts to each of us, then claps with excitement as we open them, revealing candles.
“We got them from the Christmas market. And I decided which one was best for each of you.”
We all thank her as she twirls in a circle, basking in the appreciation.
“Who’s up next?” Dad asks.
Harper raises her hand.
Martha skips over. “Can I help you, Aunt Harper? I’m Santa’s little helper.”
