“On Christmas Eve?” Ryan frowned from his snuggled perch, one arm draped lazily around Lydia’s shoulders. “We always have those for Christmas morning breakfast. It’s tradition.”
“We still will. I just heated up a partial batch from tomorrow’s stock.” Dad popped one in his mouth. “Figured we could use something savory after all this sugar.”
“Good idea.” Olivia stretched from her chair to snag one from the platter. “Might help these two sober up enough to listen to the Christmas story.”
Oh, that’s right. I forgot we did that every year. I twisted in my seat, adjusting the sleeping bag around my shoulders as everyone settled in for the reading. It was far too easy to picture Nick in the nonexistent chair next to me.
But he hadn’t evertrulywanted to be there. My stomach twisted. And he’d made that fact clear by leaving without saying goodbye.
You didn’t exactly give him a reason to stay.My inner voice, the one I could usually hush with new shoes or a Twinkie, blared to the forefront and I frowned.
True. But hadn’t I begged to be seen lately?
My eyes cut to the other side of the fire at my mom, who had pulled a chair up by Lydia and was offering her a sausage ball.
Piper’s warnings against the operations filled my mind—not as easily hushed with retail therapy or Hostess snacks. She’d been right, of course. It’d all backfired. One giant Christmas explosion, and I was the one who lit the match.
“Everyone ready?” Dad inched his chair closer to the fire, looking over his glasses at the children’s Christmas book open in his lap. He began to read about Joseph and Mary’s trek to Bethlehem, pausing every few pages to patiently answer Janie’s questions about how long did it take (many days, maybe even a week) and where did they stop to go to the bathroom (um, great question) and do donkeys like candy canes (hmm, probably not).
“I, for one, can appreciate this story in a new way.” Kat rubbed her belly and actually smiled. “Especially the restroom part. Be right back.” She untangled herself from the blankets and hurried inside while Dad continued reading.
“Mary wrapped the baby and placed him in a manger, because there was no guest room available for them anywhere.”
Janie raised her hand with another question, but Mason pushed her arm back down. “Listen,” he whispered.
My heart stirred at the quiet request.Listen.Maybe it was time I listened to something other than my own thoughts and schemes for once.
Dad set the book down and picked up his phone, where he read from a Bible app. “And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.”
Funny. I always forgot that part—how startling it must have been for the shepherds. And the sheep, for that matter.
Dad adjusted his glasses. “But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.’ ”
His voice trailed off and we sat in silence, staring into the fire.
A new thought formed, one I decidedlyshouldlisten to. Despite my reassurance to Piper, I’d made this Christmas about me. All my past Christmases, really. Sure, it was my birthday, but it was also Jesus’s birthday.
Maybe I’d made myself feel worse by focusing on what I was supposedly losing—attention, gifts, validation—and not what Jesus’s birth offered.
Peace. Love. Joy.
Forgiveness.
I swallowed, my gaze darting back to Lydia and Mom.
“But the story doesn’t actually end at the birth of baby Jesus.” Dad held up the book for the kids to squint at the illustrations by firelight. “There’s more. King Herod was afraid that baby Jesus would grow up and steal his throne. So he asked the wise men to let him know where Jesus was so he could worship himtoo. But he didn’t really want to worship baby Jesus…he wanted to hurt him.”
Janie leaned forward, mesmerized. “So the kinglied?”
Dad nodded as he turned the page. “Yes, he did.”
“Oh. Lying is bad.” Janie glanced at her mom and hesitated. “I’m sorry for lying about the marshmallows.”
Olivia’s face softened and she opened her arms. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Janie went to her and snuggled into her lap.
I closed my eyes, resting my head back against the chair as Dad continued reading about the wise men not falling for Herod’s request. Janie was right. Lyingwasbad. Too many secrets and woven webs had led to this whole drama, and I’d been the master weaver all along. Maybe Ryan and Nick had technically started it with their original secret, but I was the one who’d picked up the deceit baton and sprinted.
Dad carried on with the story, but my thoughts drifted in and out like the tiny pieces of ash drifting in the streams of smoke. I didn’t want to lie anymore. I didn’t want to manipulate or beg or fight Lydia for Mom’s attention. I didn’t even want to worry about my birthday.
