Angel's Rest(44)
When Gabe woke up and realized it was Christmas Eve, he considered heading out into the forest to find a bear’s den where he could huddle up and hibernate for the next week or so. Unfortunately, he had company coming, so he couldn’t do that. But as he threw off the covers he admitted to himself that this plan of Pam’s had merit, and a slight sense of anticipation ran along his nerves. As much as he dreaded this Christmas holiday, he would be glad to see Pam and Will and their son, Nathan.
The idea of facing Christmas alone made him cringe. While his head was in a much better place now than it had been back in September, that deep, dark pit was always out there waiting for him.
His visitors’ flight was due to arrive in Crested Butte at two o’clock this afternoon. Gabe planned to leave here by eleven, giving himself plenty of time to get there before the plane landed.
He rolled out of bed, then stopped short and sighed. The dog lay curled up in front of the floor vent, as close to the heat as possible. “Why won’t you stay where you’re put?”
The boxer perked up his ears and thumped his crooked tail but didn’t lift his head from the floor.
Gabe shook his head and headed for the shower. The dog had managed to hitch a ride with him following the town meeting the other night, and he hadn’t noticed until he’d parked the Jeep in the garage at Eagle’s Way. “That’s what happens when you let yourself get distracted by a woman,” he muttered as he gave the hot water spigot a twist.
And yet, as he showered and shaved and dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, he couldn’t find it in himself to care that the dog persisted in pestering him. Not today. Truth be told, he’d be glad to have the company when he tackled the task that awaited him downstairs.
Yesterday he’d hiked up the hill behind the house, cut down a ten-foot fir tree, dragged it downhill and inside, and set it up in the great room. He hadn’t had the guts to approach the boxes he’d had sent from Virginia. They sat on the floor like booby traps waiting to explode.
Gabe fortified himself with two cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal before making his way to the great room. His gaze took in the tree, then settled on the boxes. He could wait until the others got here to do this, but there was no sense putting them through the pain. Besides, this felt like something he should do himself.
“Ah, Jen,” he murmured. “This is so hard.”
Bracing himself, he opened his pocketknife and slit the sealing tape on one of the boxes, then pulled back the flaps. The red cardboard box lay nestled among white Styrofoam packing worms. Gabe exhaled a heavy sigh and lifted it free. A familiar hand had written the words Ornaments, stockings, tablecloth in permanent marker across the box. He removed the red box and set it aside. He’d take on the other box first.
The second box was green and contained lights for the tree. You can do this. His throat tight, Gabe started with the multicolored C-4 bulbs, then proceeded to the twinkle lights and finally the bubble lights. Memories tested his mental defenses, but he battled them back, knowing the danger of starting down that road. That way there be dragons.
With the last string of bubble lights fixed to the tree, he stepped back and observed his work. Despite his best efforts, a tiny voice ghosted, Daddy, Daddy, look! They’re starting to bubble! Bubble bubble bubble bubble.
He had to turn away.
He wandered to the window, shoved his hands in his back pockets, rocked on his heels, and stared blindly out at the brilliant white peaks as memories bombarded him. Jen had loved Christmas. Shoot, she’d been a bigger kid about the holiday than Matt. Every year she’d helped Gabe hang the outdoor lights the weekend after Thanksgiving. Every year they decorated the tree on December first. Every year they lit candles on an Advent wreath and followed a seasonal prayer guide at the beginning of their evening meal.
And Matty … oh, dear Lord, Matty. His joy during the Christmas season knew no bounds. He scrambled out of bed every morning and opened the appropriate door on the Advent calendar even before he dashed to the toilet to pee. He walked around the house yelling “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas” for weeks, and he could quote an amazing amount of dialogue from the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer movie. For as long as he lived, Gabe would never forget his son on his last Christmas morning. Dressed in the goofy Santa’s elf pajamas—complete with a pointy hat—that his mother had bought him, Matt had stood before the Christmas tree totally silent. He visibly shook with excitement.
Tears stung Gabe’s eyes. He closed them and rested his forehead against the cold windowpane, wondering if he could talk his in-laws into skipping Christmas, just pretend it wasn’t happening. They could all hit the slopes tomorrow and wear themselves out. Avoid the holiday altogether.