A Cozy Mountain Christmas - part 4

Read on for the conclusion of 'A Cozy Mountain Christmas'. Links to the first three parts of this short story are listed below, if needed. Thanks for following along!

• A Cozy Mountain Christmas - part one

• A Cozy Mountain Christmas - part two

• A Cozy Mountain Christmas - part three

A COZY MOUNTAIN CHRISTMAS

By Jason Haskins

On the night leading into Christmas Eve morning, a ferocious winter snowstorm shut down the entire town. A raging blizzard that kept the Gladwin family holed up in their cabin. Nine glorious inches of snow fell, starting overnight and still going strong at noon of December 24. Griffin, at intervals, after learning the delivery truck to the store would not be arriving, spent the morning shoveling the driveway and walkway that led to the front door of the house, trying to stay ahead of the falling white stuff. Since his six-a.m. alarm went off Griffin had been at this task. An hour or two outside, followed by ten to fifteen minutes to warm himself inside – sometimes less, six, seven minutes at best. To Griffin, shoveling snow was therapeutic and relaxing; glad to be guys since these days at the General Store, his “expertise” not called upon throughout the day. He even had a sneaky feeling the employees secretly texted or called James when an issue arose. Not that Griffin cared too much. For now, staring at the snow before him, wind blowing an attack of flakes into his face, Griffin was happy to be busy on this Christmas Eve.

Inside the house, Christmas jazz music softly played. Daisy still sipped on her morning coffee, having twice warmed the mug up in the microwave. She used her favorite mug on this occasion – red, with white snowflakes all around – in hopes of finding the Christmas joy that had so far eluded her. Daisy mostly had given up in recent days and felt a general malaise, even with this snowstorm providing the potential for the cozy Christmas she desired. The blizzard, and her husband braving the elements, was reminiscent of their early years together, which brought a warm smile to Daisy’s face.

With her two children elsewhere in the house, continuing their effort to distance themselves from dinner a few nights prior, Daisy left her post at the large bay window. No Christmas lights were on display, save for on the tree. Not even fully decorated, the tree was bare in spots, and the living room was devoid of other Christmas related items, save for the blanket and the candles. Here it was Christmas Eve, and the stockings had not even been hung with care.

Lost in thought, Daisy grew tired of looking at the non-festive fireplace mantle. Shaking off the daydream, she decided the mantle would be the perfect spot to build the mini-Christmas town her family created each year without fail. First, to clear the mantle of its knick-knacks, picture frames, and candles. The first two groups of items Daisy set aside in a pile; the candles, she moved to the coffee table. Next, Daisy retrieved the four stockings of the family – red, each with a corresponding initial belonging to the correct owner – handing them in a row. After admiring the beginnings of the festive spirit returning, Daisy opened the box containing all the town pieces – people, animals, trees, buildings, churches, and a horse – and assumed her role as the architect of a glorious Christmas village.

Upstairs, Miriam tossed her phone onto the bed. She paced around her room, fuzzy socks creating tiny sparks from the consistent rubbing against the carpet. The more Miriam noticed this, the more she dragged her feet, creating more friction. Minor joys brought minor fun. However, soon Miriam gave up on that endeavor, too. Faint echoes of Christmas music danced in her ears. To her surprise, Miriam found herself for the first time this December faintly humming along, searching for something to energize her. She regrated being so quick to unpack and set up her room. No friends to keep her company. No one else around except for family and her grandparents down the road. Not even much of a Christmas Day to look forward to, in terms of gifts, which Miriam loved. Earlier in December, her parents decided, due to the events of the preceding months, they would be celebrating a homemade Christmas, though judging by the lack of gifts under the tree – plus little evidence otherwise – the family had all but forgotten about this prior agreement.

Suddenly struck by the idea of changing the situation, Miriam decided to break free of her confinement; to go explore the depths of the upstairs walk-in storage closet and find something special for this holiday.

Over in his bedroom, Sterling, groggy, had just woken up only an hour earlier, and had not moved from under the warmth of his covers. Well, once, to open the shades, greeted by the snowstorm outside but that was it. Dozing in and out of sleep the past hour, Sterling was finally awake, watching the snow blow against the window, sticking to the glass in wild patterns. Sterling loved the serene silence of snow falling, and Christmas Eve snow was especially nice, even if he kept this detail to himself, never truly letting on about this calmness, and his love of it.

Calm disturbed when he heard rummaging in the closet next to his room. He tuned out he faint music from the living room to focus on the thumping of boxes knock against walls, and objects bumped into. Was it his mom purposefully making noise to finally drive Sterling from bed? Was his grandpa at the house, braving the elements to retrieve something of his? The noises were just loud enough, just far enough apart, to annoy Sterling and prevent him from enjoying the warmth of his bed. Tossing off his blankets, slipping into gray sweatpants and a dingy white t-shirt, Sterling briskly walked out of his room.

The door to the storage closet, opened, revealed Miriam on her hands and knees, pushing and pulling shoe boxes and other junk. “What in the holy name of Christmas are you making so much noise for?” he angrily demanded to know.

Miriam’s head and shoulders shuddered, barely escaping hitting her head on the white shelf. She turned. Glared. “You. Are. So. Rude.”

Sterling chuckled. “Yeah, well, I am not the one making all the racket at such an ungodly hour.”

“It’s lunchtime.”

“Exactly. And I am on Christmas break.”

“Your entire life is a Christmas break lately.”

Sterling prepared a retort, had the words on the tip of his tongue, but held off. The snipping and snapping between the two occupied ninety percent of their interactions in the last two months. He paused here for the sake of a true, and Christmas. “Okay. What are you looking for that is so important? Can I help?” he calmly asked.

Caught off guard by Sterling’s sudden change of approach, Miriam blurted out the answer with her head turned away from her brother. “I am looking for all our ice skates we used to have up at the cabin.”

She said this so softly and so quickly, the entire sentence sounded like gibberish. “Again, please. I did not catch a single word you said.”

Ugh. Polite enough I suppose, Miriam thought. In thinking this, she decided to return the favor with sarcasm, slow as molasses. “I am looking for all our ice skates we used to have up at the cabin.”

She is really stuck on this, Sterling thought, recalling their conversation from last week. He stepped into the room, poked around, but did not truly look. Still, he felt helpfulness kicking in. “I don’t think the skates will be in here. If anywhere, if Mom and Dad kept them, they will be I the garage.”

“But it is cold out there and I don’t want to walk through the snow right now.”

Sterling shrugged, eyeballing the quilts and old blankets on the top shelves of the storage closet. “Suit yourself. A suggestion is all. They won’t even fit even if you do find them, if that is what you were thinking.”

I am. “I’m not,” she replied, standing face-to-face with her brother. The dust of the room caused Miriam to rub her nose. A last glance about the room told Miriam that her brother was right. The skates were not here, unless they were in a box. And she did not see any boxes the right size for ice skates. “Okay. You’re right,” Miriam reluctantly admitted, brushing past Sterling and out the door, stepping into the hallway. “Are you coming?”

Sterling, fixated on the back corner of where two upper shelves converged, absently answered, “No. You go on. I will turn off the light.”

Miriam scoffed but did not hesitate in leaving her brother alone. Sterling, sensing he was in the clear, moved toward the object of his desire. Reaching up, he pushed aside a stack of vacuum sealed blankets and pulled down the very thing needed to make this day even better.

Inside the garage, Griffin was abuzz at his workbench. Having paused shoveling snow, he pursued another project, warmed by a space heater, his hands a flurry of activity. Bending an old wire hanger, he worked it into a large circle. Spread out at the station were glue sticks, a hot glue gun warming for action, and, within reach, piles of green fabric, red ribbon, and plastic.

Behind him, Miriam watched her dad for minutes before finally – loudly – sighing. Startled, Griffin turned around, relieved to see his daughter. “Miriam. What are you doing out here?”

Miriam, who had put on her snow boots and an oversized parka, blue color fading, estimated her dad. “Nothing,” she said coyly. “What are you doing out here?”

“Nothing,” Griffin replied in the same manner.

“Hmm.”

The lovely standoff continued with father and daughter smiling at one another, staring politely before Griffin finally spoke. “Well, then, maybe we can do nothing out here together. If you don’t mind your old dad hanging around.”

“I think we can manage to do nothing, together. I will stay out of your way. I promise.”

“And I will do the same. Promise.”

Miriam and Griffin stepped forward to meet each other. They proudly shook hands, then parted ways. Each moved away slowly at first, wary of each other’s movements. Soon, however, they settled into their privacy. He returned to work at his bench and she went off exploring the garage, hoping to find the treasure she so desperately sought.

By late afternoon, the snow subsided, collecting another two inches before the sky dried. Gray clouds still loomed large, though thin rays of sun peeked through just as sunset began. Griffin, after an afternoon split between working in the garage and shoving snow, admired the handiwork of the piles of white stuff around him. The beauty of a clear driveway, clean walkways, and snow amid a mountain backdrop gave Griffin pause. A little Christmas joy, he thought. He wanted to linger longer, to admire the natural wonder, but he needed to get inside. Griffin, caught up in his tasks, had not been in the house for all afternoon. In fact, he noted, he had not seen any of his family since Miriam left the garage hours ago. Odder was that Daisy had not been outside to check on him. Sterling, Griffin guessed, likely had not moved from his bedroom all day.

Blowing on his chapped hands, warm air slapping cold skin, Griffin basked in one last look before he headed inside.

Opening the front door, knocking excess snow off his boots before unlacing them, Griffin met the soothing sounds of Bing Crosby singing one of his many Christmas hits. Closing the door, setting his boots on the nearby mat, he noticed green garland dangling above the top trip of the door frame. He smiled; a smile that grew larger when he reached the living room. All around him, to every far-reaching corner, Christmas had arrived. Christmas lights twinkled on the front window, arranged in a simple square pattern. The tree twinkled, too, fully decorated with ornaments – sparkling bulbs, handcrafted favorites, antique Santas – alongside tinsel and silver bells. Plush snowmen, no bigger than twenty-four inches tall, placed around the room on shelves and tables, wooden sleighs the same, and the tiny Christmas village, completed above the fireplace. Everything was here, and all only part of why Griffin smiled.

The main reason was the sight of Daisy, who napped comfortably on the couch, wrapped in the Christmas blanket, hands pressed together, resting under the side of her face. Griffin was grateful for Daisy and the tireless effort she made to bring the family joy, especially this year. An effort often gone underappreciated, rarely acknowledged. No, her efforts had been expected of her, taken for granted that she would bring the holiday into good light. And now, he appreciated Daisy more because she did this for herself this Christmas, despite the present effort lacking from the family. Griffin did not know how he could show his true gratitude, but he knew he would never give up trying.

***

Tradition had its place for the Gladwin family, especially around the holidays and so, too, did the forming of new traditions. Daisy, believing firmly in this notion, broke the normal Christmas Eve tradition of cooking lasagna, choosing instead to go with taco soup. A change she fully embraced on this cold, snowy day. Judging by the delighted faces of her family, and happy discussion throughout the meal, the decision to switch things up was a good one, making Daisy blossom with joy.

Crumbling a handful of tortilla chips to mix with the last dregs in his bowl, Griffin remarked, “I do think we should have taco soup every Christmas Eve from now on.”

“Definitely, “agreed Sterling, patting his stomach.

“One hundred percent tasty,” added Miriam, ladling more into her turquoise bowl.

“I am glad you all enjoyed it so much.”

Dinners the last couple of nights had been mostly silent, where even a please and thank you were often mumbled and barely audible. Taco soup was the mender of fences, apparently, or was Daisy’s belief after the astounding results. “Maybe Grandpa and Grandma can join us next year,” suggested Daisy.

“I really wish they’d let me clear their driveway. I could have driven them over here.”

“Stubborn as always. We will see them tomorrow, for sure,” said Daisy, gently tossing her red cloth napkin onto the table. “Keep eating please. We have plenty.”

“For sure,” said Griffin, “but first, I have little something for you, honey.”

He stood, silently moving away from the table. Before Daisy could put a question to her husband’s statement, Griffin disappeared from the dining room. Moments later, they heard the front door open, then close. Those at the table exchanged quizzical looks before Daisy asked, “Do either of you know what’s going on?”

Each child shook their head in the negative, with Sterling adding, “Maybe he has dessert outside for us.”

“And when did he find the time to do that?” Miriam said, mostly to herself.

Looking around awkwardly, another minute passed before the sounds of the door again were heard. From the living room, Griffin yelled out, “All right. Everyone shut their eyes.”

Expressions of wonder aside, the Gladwin family proceeded not to obey, save for Miriam, who promptly closed her eyes, smiling. “Ready!” she yelled.

“Really?” Griffin hollered back. “Everyone?”

Daisy and Sterling answered in the affirmative, though they did not comply. Daisy winked at her son in approval of being devious. Griffin peeked into the room, seeing the two of them, clearly disappointed to see his wife and son had not followed directions. “Aw, c’mon. Please everyone,” he said, approaching the table.

In his hands, Griffin held a big homemade wreath, a giant red ribbon on the bottom, crudely fashioned. Layers of scraps of green felt and plastic, with twigs mixed in. Visible in spots were bare patches, while others were covered with the family initial, etched out of red fabric. The letter ‘M’ on the right, ‘S’ on the left, and the letters ‘D’ and ‘G’ at the top. Holding the wreath up for inspection, Daisy acted as if she had just been handed the moon. “Did you make this?” she exclaimed.

“All afternoon. You don’t like it?” he asked, lightly dejected.

Daisy’s response was quick, solemn. “No. I love it.”

Sterling laughed. And laughed. And laughed more. “And it took you all afternoon to make?”

“Hush,” urged Daisy.

“What is it? What is it?", asked Miriam, her eyes closed. “Oh, Jesus, open your eyes already,” retorted Sterling, failing to stop laughing.

Miriam did. Looking at the wreath, she did her best to stifle a laugh. Snorting, she could not, but Miriam attempted to plead her case. Dad, no, it’s great. It is so, so, what is the word?”

“Crooked,” offered Sterling.

“Perfect is the word,” humbly stated Daisy, receiving the gift from Griffin, holding it up for close inspection. “So thoughtful and so beautiful. I love it. Let’s go hang this beauty on the front door.”

She walked only steps before Miriam interrupted, softly. “Wait.”

Heads turned, focused on Miriam, who had stood up, willing to physically stop everyone from leaving, if necessary. Rapt attention secure, Miriam froze, unable to conjure the words or movement she desired. Sterling, finding compassion, said to her, “Go on then. Let us have it.”

Soothed by his words, Miriam nodded. “I will be right back. Do not move.”

“Do we have to close our eyes?” sarcastically asked Griffin.

“No.”

Miriam scampered from the room. Griffin, happy to see his wife happy, returned to his seat while Daisy continued to admire the wreath. Sterling stretched out his legs underneath the table, crossing his feet. He picked up his spoon, clanging the metal against the innermost part of his bowl, an annoyance put to quick end thanks to a single glance from Griffin. The return of Miriam coincided. She held in her hands four large boxes. All eyes settled on her while she spoke. “I found these,” she began clumsily.

“Help your sister,” urged Griffin.

“Found what, pumpkin?” asked Daisy.

Sterling, to his father’s surprise, only had to be asked once to help. Though he did not move fast, he moved without argument and grabbed the top two boxes. He stood next to his sister, a tower beside her. “Well, it took some digging and some climbing up into the loft of the garage – sorry – but I found them. I honestly don’t know if they will fit—”

“—Miriam.”

“Mom, I found all our old ice skates! I don’t think they will fit; for everyone, anyhow. Mine didn’t. Sterling’s almost fits me. Well, they would if I wore three pairs of socks. I think that we can go downtown to see if that village you talked about, and the ice rink, were there. Maybe we borrow skates or take turns or something, tomorrow for Christmas?”

Sterling started, “What are we—”

“Shh,” said Daisy, looking at her children hold the boxes with care. “Miriam, thank you so much. See, I knew we still had them. Wonderful.”

“Can I set these boxes down please?” whined Sterling.

“Yes, yes. Both of you. Please.”

Sterling was quick to set his two boxes down, right where he stood, but Miriam took her boxes over to show Daisy. Mother and daughter each opened a box, looked over the faded white ice skates, and ran their fingers over the small rips and tears around the edges. Griffin looked over, too, impressed. Caught up with the discovery, the three of them failed to notice Sterling sneak out of the room, be gone for a minute, then return, holding something behind his back. Clearing his throat, he stated, “Mom.”

“Yes dear,” she answered, without looking up.

“I need you to sit down and close your eyes. For real.”

Skeptical, she looked at him, noticed his position, and quietly returned to her seat at the table. Eager eyes of Griffin and Miriam fell onto Sterling as he walked over to Daisy. Standing near his mother’s right shoulder, hushed whispers nearby, Sterling said, “Okay. Open your eyes.”

Daisy did so, first looking at an empty-handed Sterling. Hesitant, she then looked at the dining room table, where in front of her, she discovered the surprise: the silver platter used for many a Christmas past. Dinged up in spots, minor scratches in others, Sterling had wiped down and cleaned the platter. Shiny. Sparkling. Daisy, staring close at her reflection, did not notice the tears running down her cheeks. Overcome with emotion, she could not stop staring.

“Oh Go. Is it not the one you were looking for? I thought it was,” said an apologetic Sterling.

Daisy snatched his left hand, clutching it tight. She squeezed hard. “This is exactly the one I looked for. You found it. Where?”

“Upstairs, under a bunch of stuff in the storage closet.”

“I can’t believe it was here, all the while.”

Before Sterling had a chance to say more, Daisy stood, hugged him, and did not wish to let go, tears flowing. She finally stepped back, wiped away her tears, and cupped his face with her hands. “Thank you. C’mon.”

Daisy picked up the wreath, headed into the living room and to the front door, opening it wide, a blast of cold air rushing in. The family staggered behind, eventually joining Daisy on the front step. She held the wreath close to her body. “It’s beautiful,” she said. “It is all so outstanding.”

Griffin put his arm around Daisy. Sterling and Miriam walked out, standing in front of their parents. Before them, moonlight shone down on the new fallen snow. The serenity of winter’s night soaked into the bones of the Gladwin family, pushing away the chill in the air, bringing forth a sense of calm to the chaos of life, if only for one night. One night to cherish, and hold close to their hearts, any way they desired.

~THE END~

Thank you everyone for reading and for the support throughout the year. Wishing everyone a happy Christmas, a merry holiday season, and healthy New Year!

Be bold. Be kind.