Page 8 of The Art of Being Merry
“Thanks, Dax. It’s great of you to drive us. Mind if I take another of these to go?” She holds up her empty cup.
“Sure. I’ll fill it up for you.”
Needing a minute away from her, I take her empty cup to the kitchen. I root around the organized cabinets until I find a to-go mug and fill it. It’s bigger than her original cup, and I’ve no clue if this was her only one. Oh, well. She’s a grown-up. She doesn’t have to drink it all, not that any should go to waste, but that’s on her. She’ll be safe at home without a car. Who am I to judge her drinking habits?
In a caravan of five vehicles, the Nicholas and Powell families trek to Main Street, parking in the lot of a local business near the start. One by one, we pile out, and Beck and Willa lead the way toward the lights. Somehow, Clementine and I end up picking up the rear.
“Prepare to be dazzled,” she touts. I can’t help but notice how she left the cup in the car and also how she’s still wearing my gloves, a fact I can’t not call attention to.
“See you didn’t get around to buying yourself a pair of gloves.” I tilt my head her way for her reaction. I expect to see at least a tinge of pink, but her cheeks remain the same pallor.Weird.
“Nope. It’s on my list for this week. Between Thanksgiving, the boys being home from school, and you know, work, I’m keeping my head above water with the bare minimum. Figured these will hold until I get my ass to Target.”
I read into what she doesn’t say. How she’s doing all this on her own. Even though she didn’t have another choice—her exsounds like the world’s largest douchebag—it’s still a lot. She’s previously mentioned when she was in North Carolina, her parents would help. Here, besides Willa and our family, she’s got no one. I hate that for her. I watched Autumn struggle with one kid, and all of us pitched in to help raise Shania. We’re happy to do it for Clementine, too, but it’s not the same as having a partner, someone you can lean on, someone who has your back all the time.
“Sure. I don’t need them.” I hope my tone comes across as genuine. They’re an older pair, and when she lamented she needed to get some, I handed them over without a second thought. It’s what I would have done for anyone in her shoes.
Probably.
“They’re a little big, but they’re serving their purpose, so thank you. For keeping my hands warm and saving me a trip to Target. Though I suppose while I’m there, I could probably get some shopping done. If I can escape there without the boys, that is. I’ll have to ask Shania when she’s free soon.”
“I’ll watch ‘em.” The words firing from my mouth, even I’m surprised it’s me who voices them.
Clementine’s feet halt, and she looks incredulously at me. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth opens and shuts in quick succession. When I think she’s going to think my offer is ludicrous, she says, “Yeah? They’d love that. As long as you don’t mind.”
“No. I’d love to hang out with them.”
I’ve gotten to know them at family dinners, but I’ve never spent time on my own with them. They’re pretty well-behaved from what I can tell. It should be a piece of cake.
“I’ll consult my calendar, and we’ll find a date and time that’s convenient for both of us.”
“Great. Can’t wait.”
She starts walking again, and I match her stride at a gait slower than my legs allow. When we reach the start of the lights, I’m speechless.
It’s not a shock I love everything about the Christmas holiday. It’s hard not to when I grew up in Winterberry Junction, and every year the season begins earlier and earlier. But man, I wasn’t prepared for the grandeur of this design.
The use of different colored lights set to the music of Christmas carols playing in the background.
The old firehouse standing guard at the end, lit up like a holiday fire.
The animated characters, especially the elves.
Beck said it best: awesomeness, indeed.
“Clementine, it’s gorgeous.” My eyes can’t focus on any particular part because the whole layout is mesmerizing in its own way.
“Thanks. I’m so glad people love it.” She’s lit up as bright as the display, pride and satisfaction emanating in waves. As they should. This is amazing.
Every year I’m more and more astonished at how the exhibition tops previous ones. Maybe it’s not so much “tops” as matches it differently. I’m not sure words would do the spectacle before me justice if I tried to explain it. I’m in awe.
Willa’s always going on and on about how crazy talented she is regarding her art, but who knew that translated to a Christmas lights display? But if this is what she designed, I’d like to see what else her mind can concoct.
Jace races up, a huge smile in place, his dark brown hair hidden under his hat. Other than that, he’s nearly the spitting image of Clementine. He tugs on Clementine’s hand. “Mama, it’s so pretty. You made this?”
“I drew up the blueprint, and a crew of talented and professional light-stringers made it come to life.”
Her explanation goes over his head, as evidenced by his quizzical look, but his smile doesn’t falter. “Can I take a picture to send to Daddy? He’s going to love it.”
