What has come over you lately, sweetheart mine? I have not received a letter from my girl for twelve weeks. Have you given up your boy?
So long, sweetheart.
I am, as ever, yours.
Always,
Henry
My analytical, computer brain tries to make sense of what I’m seeing. I never knew my great-grandmother—Cece’s mom—but I know her name was Clara. The thing is, my great-grandfather was Theodore, definitely not Henry.
Shuffling through a few more postcards, I see they’re full of the same. Words of love and longing sent across an ocean.
Maybe it’s watching my older brother find his happy ending again, or the fact that I’ve been wholly fixated on a girl who disappeared from my life without a trace six months ago, but suddenly, unraveling this mystery is of critical importance.
My fingers itch for my phone that’s still sitting in my room. Goddamn my mom’sno phones on Christmasrule. Then I laugh at myself because I can’t exactly just open a browser and search “Clara Henry love postcards” and find what I’m looking for.
“El, did the attic demons get you?” my mom calls up the stairs.
“Be right down,” I yell, gathering up the postcards. I tie the ribbon back around them and put them in the box, sticking it under my arm and climbing down from the attic, shoving the ladder back up into the ceiling. I stash the box of postcards in my room and head downstairs to celebrate Christmas with my family, feeling the delicious thrill of a mystery and the burning need to solve it the whole way down.
CHAPTER TWO
AMELIA
“I’m never eating again,” my sister Olivia groans, flopping on the couch next to me and tossing an arm dramatically over her eyes.
“I think it was the third piece of pie that put me over the edge.” My sister-in-law, Molly, takes the seat on my other side and kicks her rainbow-sock clad feet up on the coffee table.
“That’s weak-sauce, Mol,” I say. “You definitely could have gone for a fourth. You didn’t even try the apple, and that’s the one Gabe was most proud of. He did that crust design and everything.”
I sink deeper into the couch, feeling a warm glow at having all my favorite people in the same place at the same time. Ever since my parents died when I was a teenager, the holidays have mostly felt like something to get through. But when my older brother, Gabe, got back together with Molly, his college girlfriend and first love, a few years ago after a decade apart, for the first time in years Christmas felt a little less like something to endureand more like something I could maybe, kind of, learn how to celebrate.
Sitting here in the living room of their happy house as the holiday comes to a close, with the massive Christmas tree glowing in the corner and the detritus of a Christmas day well spent scattered everywhere, I feel happy and settled. Or, at least, as happy and settled as I can be when my brain is swimming with details of the current state of my life. Details I haven’t shared with my family.
Molly sighs heavily. “I totally could have, and Gabe’s puppy dog face almost had me giving in, but I have plans for your brother tonight and they don’t involve a food coma and a sugar crash. Tradeoffs must be made.”
“Please tell me you’re not talking about sexy plans,” Olivia says, lifting her arm from her eyes and turning her head towards us. “What did I tell you about talking about sex and my brother in the same sentence?”
Molly rolls her eyes. “We’re sisters, Liv. Sisters share sexy stuff. Especially very, very good sexy stuff.” She gives us a wicked grin and hooks her arm though mine.
“So, what you’re saying is, wear earplugs tonight,” I deadpan.
Molly grins at me. “Bet your gorgeous ass, Ames.”
I can’t help but grin back. Molly is pure, chaotic sunshine, and I absolutely love her to pieces.
“Where is Gabe anyway?” Olivia asks, glancing around like my brother might materialize out of thin air.
“He wanted to do bathtime tonight. He bought this little light thing that plays music and projects dinosaurs onto the walls and ceiling, so he’s throwing Soph a little bathtime rave. But, like, nerd edition.” The love on her face when she talks about my brother and their seven-month-old daughter is unmistakable.
I feel a little tug, the ever-present complex web of being thrilled for Gabe and Molly and the life they’re making together,while also wondering what space I’m meant to occupy in this reconfigured family of ours. Gabe and Molly, the soulmates. Olivia, the baby of the family who Gabe basically raised from the time she was eight. And me, the middle child. Twelve when our parents died—too old to need the kind of parenting Olivia did, but old enough to understand Gabe was in over his head, and what I could do to help was make sure I didn’t need much help at all.
Fourteen years later and it’s me. Hi. The originaldon’t worry about me; I’ve got it handled; I don’t need anything from anyone,girl.
Christmas held all these feelings at bay, but as the holiday ebbs away, they come roaring back with enough force to have me shooting up from the couch, needing to move.
“You okay, Ames?” Olivia asks.
