Читать книгу Midnight and Mistletoe at Cedarwood Lodge - Rebecca Raisin - Страница 11

After the gargantuan breakfast we’d put away, we were about to head off and somehow eat more. I already felt like napping, a surefire sign it was Christmas because I was floppy with relaxation and a very full belly.

Kai and I piled the backseat of my car with gifts and bottles of wine for Mom and Aunt Bessie. The sudden need to be organized and make sure we didn’t forget anything calmed my nerves. It was only a fifteen minute drive to Aunt Bessie’s, but with icy roads it would probably take twice as long to get there.

All set, we jumped in and turned the heat to high. We wove through the slushy streets, passing children bundled up in scarves, puffer jackets and mittens making snowmen in their front yards. Others tried out their new sleds, careering down long driveways and landing in a giggling heap amidst piles of snow. I smiled, remembering the excitement of Christmas as a child, waking up to find Santa had visited, discovering reindeer footprints in the snow, left by Aunt Bessie, who always made the magic real, despite whatever was going on at home.

“What are Australian Christmases like?” I asked, breaking the silence. “Do you spend them on the beach in the sunshine? Have a light seafood lunch instead of a traditional roast turkey or ham?” Did his parents fuss over him, wearing beaming smiles, proud that they’d raised him right? The thought of them missing him today of all days hurt my heart.

“Pretty much,” he grinned and his eyes lit up as if with memories of merry Christmases. “We have a traditional lunch with turkey and all the trimmings, but we also do seafood on the barbecue, and eat outside to escape the heat in the kitchen. My parents live by the beach so we usually go for a swim at some point, and share a bottle of wine as the sun sets.”

“It must be so strange being here – all the snow and cold?”

He laughed, “It is, yes, but I like the change. Good to experience that American Christmas you see in the movies.”

We lapsed into another silence as we drove the snowy route. “I wanted to thank you, though, for inviting me to spend Christmas with your family. It means a lot, Clio.”

His gaze was intense, as if he wasn’t only thinking of my family. “They must be missing you this year,” I said, sensing he was thinking of his parents. His body stiffened slightly. Bingo. Part of me was relieved he cared; of course he cared, he was Kai after all. Maybe he just needed a push to reach out to his parents again. Someone to be the voice of reason? “Did you speak to your parents today?”

He took a full minute to answer. “No, I haven’t called yet.” He let out a sigh, “I don’t feel great about it, either. I dialed so many times, and then hung up before it connected. Like, what do I say, ‘Hey, merry Christmas! It’s your son who’s not actually your son.’” There was a bitterness to his voice, and real pain shone in his eyes. I knew he didn’t want to hurt them, he just didn’t know how to be this new Kai who’d found out he was adopted.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter as I turned a corner. What would I do in the same situation? Probably retreat too. Isn’t that what I had done when things got too hard with my mom? Packed a suitcase and headed to New York, and didn’t look back until I was forced to.

But I couldn’t help think that whether Kai was related to them by blood or by love, did it really matter in the long run? Love was love, right?

“You should call them, Kai. They’re probably heartsick over it all too, you know. I don’t think it matters much what you say. Just call them, for their sake, if not your own.”

What I was picturing was my own mom, sitting at the table on Christmas Day for the last few years, missing her absent daughter. Guilt roiled inside me that I’d left her alone so long. I had left for good reason and stayed away for self-preservation, but that didn’t change the fact that I should’ve reached out sooner. While our relationship hadn’t been normal in any sense of the word, I knew she wouldn’t ever ask for help even if she desperately needed it, and I’d simply packed up and left without so much as a backward glance. Maybe I could stop Kai doing the same thing; he shouldn’t have to live with the regret, or wishing things had turned out differently.

As it stood I wasn’t even sure if my mom would hug me and wish me a merry Christmas today. Her moods went up and down like a yoyo, and I was never certain how she would be. Sure, things had been getting better, but would she even look me in the eye and really see me?

Kai had dream parents, ones who’d cheered him on at his surf comps and football games, then later supported him through university, all with one goal in mind – a successful future for him. He’d told me all about them and it was hard to think they’d want anything for him but the best. Yeah, they should have probably told him he was adopted earlier – but they kept silent out of fear they’d lose him, and now they had.

He rubbed at his face. “I know. And I don’t want to hurt them. Really, I don’t. My silence isn’t some kind of revenge. It’s more that I’m lost about how to be, what to say. They’ll hear it in my voice. I just can’t believe I had birth parents I won’t ever get to meet. I won’t be able to see if I have the same color eyes as my dad, the same smile as my mom… you know? I am angry, and I can’t help it. I keep hoping that it’ll subside and then we can move on. But it hasn’t. What if it never does?” His voice was low and anguished and I wished I knew the right thing to say.

Houses crowded closer together the nearer we got to the town; twinkling Christmas lights flashed behind lace curtains, tinsel was strung across neat hedges, and wreaths blew sideways on front doors. Every house looked like a fully decorated gingerbread house, only on a real-life scale.

“I understand all of that, Kai, I think I’d feel the same. But I think the only way forward is to deal with it now, otherwise you’re just sweeping it under the carpet, and you of all people know how toxic that is.”

Using Kai’s philosophy on himself seemed fitting. He was a big believer in letting out negative emotions, and concentrating on the positive, through breathing exercises, yoga and meditation. While I teased him relentlessly about his surfer yogi guru prowess, it really had made a difference to me, no matter how crazy doing the lotus position at midnight might have looked to an outsider. And I think he probably needed to practice what he preached, for his own sanity.

“You make it sound so easy, Clio. But how do I articulate to them how I really feel without letting my anger creep in? I know they’re hurt too. What if I make it worse? Wouldn’t it be easier to just keep silent until I work it all out?”

I considered it. Who was I to advise him anyway? I still hadn’t mended things with Mom and I was walking into Christmas keeping a secret from her. But for some inexplicable reason, I felt calling them was the right thing for Kai to do. “I don’t know them Kai, but I’d hazard a guess they’d prefer you yelling down the phone line than silence. At least that would be progress.” I shrugged, hoping I wasn’t wrong. “The longer you leave it, the harder it will be to bridge that gap. It doesn’t have to be all sunshine and butterflies. Just be honest, say how you feel, and go from there.”

He nodded, his jaw tight. Kai wouldn’t yell at them, he wasn’t the yelling type, but his hesitation said a lot about the black cloud hovering over him. “Maybe,” he finally said.

I gave his arm a reassuring pat, feeling like a fraud – I could dole out advice easily, but when it came to my own life I kept bottled up tight too, not sure which way to go with my own mom.

Sensing a subject change was in order, I said, “I hope you’re hungry. Aunt Bessie has been talking up her festive donut tower, and says we’re not allowed to leave until it’s all been eaten, because…”

“They’re artisan donuts,” he finished, and we burst out laughing. Aunt Bessie took her donuts seriously and Christmas Day was no different. I expected it wouldn’t be long before we fell into some sort of sugar coma with the amount of eating that was expected at any soirée at Aunt Bessie’s. For a moment I almost regretted the second helping I’d had at breakfast, but who would ever wish away a single forkful of Cruz’s sinfully delicious berry nice Christmas pastry tree?

“If I eat any more I’ll explode,” Kai said with a grimace.

“Me too,” I laughed. “Damn Cruz for making such a huge delicious breakfast. Let’s just hope Aunt Bessie is running behind schedule.” I turned on the radio and as we drove down the last few streets Kai and I sang tunelessly along to Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. When I surreptitiously glanced sideways at him I noticed he was grinning – our conversation hadn’t been forgotten, but at least he didn’t seem to be burdened by it.

In Aunt Bessie’s driveway, I shut off the engine. A gasp escaped when I caught sight of her house. “Golly,” I said. “It’s got to be the most decorated on the block!” Aunt Bessie never did do anything by halves! It was the most fabulously festive cottage – which said a lot as competition in Evergreen was fierce. There was a sleigh complete with reindeer on her roof, and even Santa’s legs visible – as if he was heading down the chimney to deliver presents. The look was completed with thousands of twinkling fairy lights, and I’d bet money that the enormous wreath on her door was a musical one. I peeked at Kai, who wore an expression of surprise – maybe they didn’t decorate quite as fantastically where Kai came from?

“Aunt Bessie really likes Christmas…” I said as I climbed out the car.

He winked at me across the back seat as he started to gather presents. “Ah, I had been wondering where you got your love of excess from.”

“So I like buying gifts?” I said with a flick of my hair, and laughed as he pretended to teeter under the weight of his pile.

I loved Christmas, and gift buying even more so … I couldn’t help but put things away all year round when I found perfect presents for those I loved. Which would have been fine, except I kept forgetting what I’d bought, and ended up with more than I had intended. Though it was fun to exclaim over them, and remember what store I’d found them in, and what I’d been doing at the time.

When we reached the porch I leaned over to press the doorbell and tamped down giggles as Jingle Bells rang out.

“Come in, come in,” Aunt Bessie trilled from inside the house, before throwing the door open. She wore a bright green Christmas sweater, her hair curled and make-up immaculately applied… if not a touch heavily, as was her way.

“Don’t you look fabulously festive?” I said, hugging her with one arm as I grasped the wine.

She waved me away. “This old thing? Shucks.”

I grinned and moved aside so she could hug Kai, managing to maneuver her arms around the presents he clutched. She held on for a moment or two longer than strictly necessary and then stage-whispered over his shoulder: “At your age, I wouldn’t waste any more time getting to know the man, if you know what I mean.” She then gave me a salacious wink and I almost died right there.

Scandalized, I hissed, “Aunt Bessie!” As any other words failed me. What was she playing at? Kai did his best not to laugh as he squeezed past her into the house. Had Amory sent out a memo or something: Let’s not rest until Clio admits she has feelings for Kai! He was leaving soon, and once again, that would be that. Besides, he had other issues far more important than the erratic beating of my heart when he was in my presence. And what did she mean at my age!

Was I left-on-the-shelf age already?

“What?” she said, wide-eyed, playing the innocent. “Just saying it like it is.”

“Well you may as well have told him I’m old and desperate! At my age, jeez, Aunt Bessie!” I hissed at her.

Aunt Bessie just smirked at me and turned to follow Kai in, “Oh let me help you, Kai.”

I shook my head and laughed. Seriously, she was the limit.

Aunt Bessie’s cottage was just as I remembered it from Christmases as a child. There was a fire crackling in the grate, and Christmas carols playing chirpily from unseen speakers. The living room was decorated from the ceiling, where shiny silver lanterns hung, right down to the floorboards where a Nativity scene played out, including hay in the manger for baby Jesus.

“Now come through, I’ve made some candy cane milkshakes, but you can’t have a milkshake without a donut and you can’t have a donut without candy floss, so I hope it won’t spoil your lunch.”

I groaned. “We’ve only just had breakfast, Aunt Bessie.”

She tutted. “It’s only a drink, Clio!”

There was no denying her. We’d be marshmallow shaped when we left.

“See what’s for dessert?” Kai said in awe as he unloaded presents under the tree, a tree that seemed to be more lights than branches.

On the kitchen bench sat Aunt Bessie’s donut tower, and I gasped. I’d been expecting something extravagant, but not this. It was truly a marvel, iced donuts in festive red and green stacked atop each other in the shape of a Christmas tree. Edible diamonds twinkled on each layer. A golden star gleamed from the top. “What on earth…” In the window of Puft she’d had something similar but on a much simpler scale, this was another level!

“Your mom helped,” she said, her eyes shining with pride. “She sure has a steady hand for it. It took us just over four hours to assemble, and that doesn’t include making the donuts.”

“Mom helped?”

Aunt Bessie grinned. “She sure did. She’s becoming quite the baker, you know. Her visits to Puft are more frequent. Sure, to start with she just helped out the kitchen hand, cleaning and sorting the fridges, but now she’s learning to bake too. And decorate. She’s got the patience for the finicky work.”

My eyebrows shot up. I knew Mom went to Puft and ‘helped’ but I thought it was just a reason to catch up with Aunt Bessie, and have some time outside the house with someone she felt safe and comfortable around. I never for one second thought she would be learning to bake. Also, I’d inherited my terrible cooking skills from my mother… or so I’d thought! I stared at the tower again, fresh pride coursing through me.

She gazed in the direction I looked. “Oh, the star? It’s made from tempered dark chocolate and covered in golf leaf, cost a pretty penny, but it’s worth it, don’t you think?”

“Aunt Bessie it’s totally amazing. It’s so grand!” The stack of donuts had been truly transformed. It was a piece of art. “You’ve got such an incredible talent, sometimes I think you’re wasted here in Evergreen,” I said.

“Well funny you should say. About that,” Aunt Bessie said, dipping her head as if shy, which was out of character for her. “I’m not technically minded, I’m more a ‘get your hands dirty in the kitchen’ type, as you can clearly see, but I’ve had a lot of the emails recently…”

“The emails? Go on.” I bit down on a smile.

“Yeah, so the emails are all basically asking the same thing. Where can they see pictures of what I make, what’s my handle on Instagram,” her face went blank, “I replied I don’t have a handle on it, I don’t have a handle on technology at all.”

Laughter sputtered out of me. “Oh Aunt Bessie! They mean what’s your name on Instagram, so they can follow you! Not whether you have a handle on using it! Handle means name – for example, it could be something like: @PuftArtisanDonuts.”

“OK, OK, I understand, but what exactly is Instagram?” Her eyebrows pulled together as she poured out enormous candy cane milkshakes, decorating both with white and red sprinkled donuts and a spiral of whipped cream.

I laughed in spite of her bewildered expression and took my milkshake before I pulled out my phone to teach her the intricacies of Instagram. “So, social media looks scary, but really it could take Puft to the next level. Introducing it to more customers, from, well, pretty much anywhere in the world.”

“So,” her nose wrinkled. “You’re telling me I’ll post pictures of my artisan donuts and strangers are going to like them? With a click of the button? And this will sell more donuts?”

I nodded and took a gulp of my milkshake, relishing in the minty freshness. Puft definitely deserved more fans, even if demand in Evergreen was pretty high. I just knew New Yorkers would love to ‘discover’ those artisan creations.

Still confused she asked, “But how will they find me?”

“Hashtags.” And I tried to hold back the laughter as I caught Kai’s gaze. Explaining social media seemed completely mad – hashtags, handles, likes?! “Okay, so let’s not worry about all the terms or anything, let’s just get you an account set up. It’s easier to show you that way.”

With a big smile, and a lot of dramatic sighing and exclaiming over remembering passwords and how her nails were too long to click-clack at a phone, we set up an Instagram account and I promised to help her with Facebook and Twitter once she got a handle (!) on using Instagram first.

“So these strangers will like my posts and send orders through my website? Seems pretty crazy to me…”

“It’s the way of the world, Aunt Bessie,” I said, smiling. “Amory will design you a stunning webpage that will suit Puft and she can link your social media accounts to that. Then when you get an order you simply ship it. Easy peasy. We better sort out some nice packaging for shipping too, because I bet it won’t take long for the word to spread.”

“You’re a sweet girl, Clio, believing in me like that. This all came about after Cedarwood was written up in the newspaper, you know. It’s more to do with you than me.”

I kissed the top of her head. “It came about because you’re exceptional at what you do. It has nothing to do with me.”

Looking up at the clock Aunt Bessie suddenly exclaimed, “Look at the time! We best get a wiggle on now or this Christmas lunch is going to be a real turkey!” she cackled at her bad joke and I followed her back to the kitchen.

I sat at the counter and watched Aunt Bessie work as she pulled out vegetables and instructed me to stay well away from any pot or pan. But she called Kai over to be her helper and I watched as he confidently chopped and prepared the carrots. I was almost jealous – seeing as Aunt Bessie had been able to teach Mom how to bake, I wondered if she could teach me how to boil water without burning the pot…

“Where’s Mom?” I asked

Aunt Bessie stopped stirring and checked her watch. “Should be on her way.” She paused, turning towards me and catching my eye. “Clio, you know it’s a big thing for her, coming here today when there’s going to be people she doesn’t know.” She motioned to Kai, who seemed to be in his own world meticulously julienning carrots to the same length.

I nodded, my mom could hide out in the kitchen at Puft, stick her head into the bakery and say hi to a friendly face, but real socializing – sitting down, eating, drinking and making conversation for hours on end – was another thing entirely. I couldn’t remember ever seeing my mom handle a social situation well – I guess she just used the avoidance tactic, or made excuses and we left it at that.

“I know Aunt Bessie, they’re all really sweet people. No one is going to make her uncomfortable.” She nodded and turned back to her stirring.

It was nice to be spending Christmas with family this year. Of course last year – spending it with Amory in a Chinese restaurant in Brooklyn – had been amazing in its own right, but I sensed things were changing for all of us. Family should’ve come first, and I vowed it would from now on.