My True Love Gave to Me: Twelve Holiday Stories(100)

Emily and the twins tried to teach me how to two-step.

Clint grilled steaks and we had big, noisy dinners at Ethan’s house with everybody taking turns holding Ethan’s cousin’s baby.

Aunt Mary put me in charge of wrapping presents and the twins let me hold a baby pig.

And through it all, Ethan was there, teaching me how to drive a stick shift in the chore truck, teasing me when my boots got so bogged down in mud that I actually stepped out of them and had to walk back to Aunt Mary’s on bare feet.

He didn’t talk about Hulda.

He didn’t ask me where I was from or why I was running.

He didn’t look at me like I was a liar or a fraud or a cheat.

And, for a few days there, I wasn’t really Hulda and I wasn’t really me. For a few days, I was just … happy.

Because, for a few days, I had a family.

*

“You’ve got to keep stirring,” Aunt Mary told me. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and even though it was below freezing outside, Aunt Mary’s kitchen was hot. Steam collected on the windows while the brown concoction on the stove boiled and popped like something in a witch’s cauldron.

“Are you stirring?” Aunt Mary asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She eyed the boiling caramel. “Stir harder.”

When the caramel began to splatter, Aunt Mary said, “Oh, hon, you’re gonna get that all over your pretty top. Go grab an apron.”

There was a hook full of aprons in the laundry room and I grabbed one that was pink and covered with white flowers. But as soon as Aunt Mary saw me, something in her eyes made me stop.

“What?” I asked, then looked down and saw the name embroidered on the pocket. Daisy. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this your daughter’s?”

“Yes, it is. But … you wear it,” Aunt Mary said. “She’d want you to wear it.”

When I started pulling my hair up into a ponytail Aunt Mary asked, “Did anyone ever tell you your hair looks nice away from your face?”

I swallowed hard and nodded. “My mom.”

“Do you miss her, sweetie? We can call her, or—”

“No,” I said too quickly. “I mean, that’s okay. The time difference, you know. It can wait.”

The back door slammed open as Emily yelled, “Aunt Mary!”

“Boots!” Aunt Mary said, but Emily was already pulling off her muddy boots and leaving them by the back door.

“Aunt Mary, do you have any potatoes?” she asked.

“Why?” Aunt Mary sounded skeptical, but Emily cut her eyes at me.

“You’ll see.”

*

“Surprise!” Emily and Susan yelled in unison when we arrived at Ethan’s house that night.

There was another sign. This one hung in the dining room, announcing Happy Torláksmessa, Hulda!

“What is all this?” I asked.

“Well, we know it must be hard for you to be away from your family at Christmas,” Aunt Mary said. “The holidays are always hard without your family.”

Maybe I was imagining things, but it felt like the room changed as she said it. For a second, no one could meet anyone else’s gaze.

“So…” Mary went on, “we thought we’d bring a little of Iceland to you!”

“Oh. Yay!” I tried. Only then did I really look around the room.

There were shoes sitting in all the windows. Yes, shoes. Sinister looking Santas lined the center of the table, and a pile of potatoes was arranged on a serving tray like some kind of strangely festive centerpiece.

“Wow. Someone went to a lot of trouble.”

“Well, of course we did, silly. It’s Saint Thorlakur’s Day!” Ethan’s mom said. Then she grew serious. “Am I saying that correctly?”

“Yeah, Hulda,” Ethan said. “Is she saying that correctly?”

“Yes. Very good,” I told her, and Susan beamed. Ethan smiled like he was about to choke on the canary he’d just eaten.

“Sit, sit.” Aunt Mary ushered us all into chairs. “Part of the fun of hosting an exchange student is learning about their home culture. So we thought we’d have you teach us all about Christmas in Iceland!”

“Hulda is an expert on Christmas in Iceland,” Ethan said, moving away before I could kick him under the table.

“We did a little research online,” Susan said. “But we still have so many questions.”

“Yeah,” Emily said. “Like what’s the deal with all the shoes?”

“Yes, Hulda.” Ethan leaned back in his chair. “Tell us all about the shoes!”

“Oh, well…” I started slowly. “The shoes are really fascinating.”

I looked back to the windows, the shoes that sat on every ledge. “We put them in the windows, you see…”

“Oh, we do see.” Ethan nodded. “But why, Hulda? Why are the shoes in the windows?”

“Um … well … that’s because in olden times … people would forget their shoes and … people left extra shoes in windows and that way travelers could find shoes when they needed them. Because Iceland is a hard place to live without … you know … shoes. Land of Ice,” I added seriously.