The Wish(48)

“We always do a puzzle on Christmas,” Bryce whispered to me. “Don’t ask me why.”

As I sat beside him, trying to find matching pieces along with the rest of the family, I wondered what my own family was doing. It was easy to imagine Morgan putting her new clothes away while my mom cooked in the kitchen and my dad caught a game on television. It occurred to me that after the morning frenzy of opening gifts, aside from the meal, everyone in my family did their own thing. I knew that families had their own holiday traditions, but ours seemed to keep us dispersed while Bryce’s gathered them together.

Outside, it began to rain, then pour. As lightning flickered and thunder boomed, we worked steadily on the puzzle. There were a thousand pieces but the family were absolute puzzle wizards—especially Bryce’s dad—and we finished it in about an hour. Had it been me putting it together alone, I was pretty sure I’d still be working on it until next Christmas. His family put on Scrooge—a musical version of Dickens’s classic—and not long after it ended, it was time for Bryce and me to go. After fishing out a couple unopened gifts from under the tree, Bryce grabbed umbrellas and his truck keys while I hugged every member of his family goodbye.

It felt darker than usual as we drove the quiet roads. Heavy clouds blocked the starlight while the wipers pushed the rain aside. The storm had abated to a drizzle by the time we got to my aunt’s, where we found her and Gwen in the kitchen. I savored another round of delicious aromas, even though I wasn’t hungry in the slightest.

“Merry Christmas, Bryce,” Gwen called out.

“Dinner should be ready in twenty minutes,” Aunt Linda informed us.

Bryce put his gifts beneath the tree with the others and greeted both women with hugs. The house had been transformed in the hours I’d been gone. The tree was glowing, and candles flickered on the table, the mantel, and the end table near the sofa. Faint strains of holiday music drifted from the radio, reminding me of my childhood, when I’d be the first to sneak downstairs on Christmas morning. I’d wander to the tree and check out the gifts, noting which ones were for me and which ones were for Morgan before taking a seat on the steps. Sandy would usually join me and I’d stroke her head, letting the anticipation build until it was finally time to get everyone up.

As I recalled those mornings, I could feel Bryce’s curious gaze on me.

“Good memories,” I said simply.

“It must be hard being away from your family today.”

I met his eyes, feeling warm in a way I hadn’t expected. “Actually,” I said, “I’m doing okay.”

We took a seat on the couch and chatted in the glow of the lights from the Christmas tree until dinner was ready. My aunt had made turkey, and despite eating only small portions, I felt like I was going to pop when I finally put my fork down.

By the time we cleaned the kitchen and retreated to the living room, the storm had passed; though lightning still flickered on the horizon, the rain had stopped and a light fog had begun to roll in. Aunt Linda had poured herself and Gwen a glass of wine—it was the first time I’d ever seen either of them drink anything with alcohol—and we began opening gifts. My aunt loved the gloves; Gwen exclaimed over the music box, and I opened the gifts that my parents and Morgan had sent. I found a nice pair of shoes and some cute tops and sweaters that were one size larger than I usually wore, which I supposed made sense considering my situation. When it was Bryce’s turn, I handed him the envelope.

I’d picked a fairly generic card, with room to write my own message. Because the light was so dim in the living room, he had to turn on the reading lamp to see what I’d written.

Merry Christmas, Bryce!

Thank you for all your help, and in the spirit of the holidays, I wanted to get you something I knew you would love, a gift that just might keep on giving for the rest of your life.

This card entitles you to the following:


My aunt’s super-secret biscuit recipe; and

A baking lesson for the two of us, so that you can learn how to make them on your own.



Obviously, this gift is from both my aunt and me, but it was my idea.



Maggie

P.S. My aunt would like you to keep the recipe secret!



As he read the card, I stole a peek at Aunt Linda, whose eyes were glittering. When he finished, he turned first toward me, then toward her before finally breaking into a grin.

“This is great!” he declared. “Thank you! I can’t believe you remembered.”

“I wasn’t sure what else to get you.”

“It’s the perfect gift,” he said. Turning to my aunt, he said, “I don’t want you to go to a lot of trouble, so if it’s easier, we can go to your shop early and watch you prepare them like you always do.”

“In the middle of the night?” I said, my eyes widening. “I don’t think so.”

Both Aunt Linda and Gwen laughed. “We’ll figure it out,” my aunt said.

Next were the gifts from Bryce. As my aunt carefully unwrapped the gift he’d given both of them, I caught a glimpse of the frame and knew immediately he’d given them a photograph. Curiously, my aunt and Gwen both stared at it without speaking, causing me to rise from my spot on the couch and peek over their shoulders. I suddenly understood why they couldn’t stop staring.