Page 24 of A Tinsel Tale
EVIE
It’s Sunday and we’re getting ready to go buy our Christmas tree. I’m looking for my old holiday winter scarf because it iscoldout there—the wind blowing in over the lake is frosty and the forecast calls for snow. I find it buried at the bottom of the drawer and wrap it around my neck. I pull on my cream knit hat with the red pompom on the end and grab my matching red mittens.
I walk into the living room and Dad is waiting. “Ready?” he asks.
“Yes. Balsam fir this year?”
“Yepper. I loaded the ax and saw. Ready to roll.”
We hop in the truck and Dad starts it up. We sit while the truck warms up. “Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I need to say that I don’t want you doing any matchmaking. Things are already weird enough between Jamie and me, I don’t need your help.”
“I noticed you spent most of your time together at the football party,” he says.
“I was tipsy.”
“Aha.”
I hold up my hands. “Dad, I’ll admit I’m attracted to him. What warm blooded female wouldn’t be?”
“We’re talking about you, Evie.”
“I just don’t need any pressure. I’m finally unwinding. It’s nice to be home. It’s made me realize how much stress I’ve been living under. No lie. It’s like I’m coming out of a trance or something.”
“I can see a change from when you got here, and it’s only been a week. As your father, I can’t tell you how happy I am about that. I feel like I’ve got my daughter back. And I’ll try not to tease you about Jamie… I’ll do my best anyway. Never let it be said that I added any pressure to your life,” he says cheekily.
I punch him lightly on the arm. “No trying, only doing.” I turn on the radio and find a station with Christmas music and we take off down the lane singing along to “Jingle Bell Rock.”
Dad finds a space sandwiched in with a long line of tree shoppers and backs the truck neatly over the dormant winter grass. It would seem like everyone in town picked today to buy a tree. Sunday after Thanksgiving… duh! It’s been three years since we cut our own. It hits me hard. Last time we did this was pre-diagnosis; Mom was here, and we had no idea what was ahead of us. The following year she was gone, and we didn’t put up any decorations. Last year Dad finally bought an artificial tree. Tears spring to my eyes and I glance over at Dad and see his are glassy too. I know he’s thinking the same thing.
“Your mom would be very happy that we’re doing this,” he says gruffly.
I swipe my mitten across my eyes and nod. “I know.”
I grab his large hand and squeeze. “Let’s do this.” He nods, then opens the driver’s door and steps out.
“Do you need your cane?”
“No. I’ll send you back for it if I get tired.”
I meet him on the gravel path, link my arm through his, and we head to the shack that serves as the checkout post and the hot chocolate and Christmas cookie station.
A smile lights up Junior’s face as we approach. He steps out from behind the counter and gives me a big bear hug. He’s the oldest of the Barrington brothers. He looks so much like an older version of Jamie and my heart squeezes. There was a time when Jamie’s family was like my own. I ate as many suppers with them as I did at home. It was fun to be surrounded by a loud boisterous family of seven. A whole different world.
“Evie! I heard you were back. How’s it feel to be home?”
“Honestly? Great. I feel about fifty pounds lighter.”
“It’s the small-town, lake effect,” he says, grinning.
“And good people,” I reply. “How are you doing? It’s been too long.”
“Still ornery as a hog,” he says. “My kids are my payback. Thrills Mom to no end.”
I laugh. “I’m sure. You were pretty wild.”