That Christmas, This Christmas

Chapter Three

Neither my sister nor I have said a single word since we sat down at the breakfast table and Mum reeled off the list of jobs she needs to get done today. Erica's uninterested, picking at her jam on toast. Charlie disappeared half an hour ago onto the farm.

Mum peers down at the list, brow furrowed as she writes everything down.

'I'll go with you,' I pipe up, volunteering to help my lonely mum as she struggles to remember what's needed. Dad was always the one to make sure everything was settled for the holiday. It was his favourite time of year.

Mum looks up, her purple-rimmed glasses rising with her eyebrows.

'That was eager,' she exclaims.

I shrug. 'Work has given me all of Christmas off,' I tell her with feigned enthusiasm. 'I have nothing else to do.'

'Lucky you.' Erica pouts from the seat across from me. She picks once more at the toast. 'I have double the shifts during December.'

'Well, that's what you get working in retail over Christmas,' Mum answers with a small smile. Erica loves the job she has at the tiny town gift shop, using her skills to make arts and crafts in her spare time before selling them there.

Erica simply groans in response before ungracefully sloping off her chair and heading towards the kitchen sink. I lift my own piece of bread and take a bite.

'How was last night?' Mum suddenly asks. I nearly choke on the crumbs and look down at the thick red jam before choosing to shrug.

'I slept okay,' is the answer I choose to give. After all, that's probably what Mum is asking... Right?

'Erica told me that you ran into him,' she says softly. I have to clear my throat at the reminder, nostalgia fogging up my airways. Slouching back in the wooden chair, I shake my head before painting a picture of neutrality on my face and looking up.

'I'm fine,' I assure her.

'Lara—'

'It's been four years, Mum,' I remind her, interrupting rather brutally, before cringing. I didn't mean to snap at her. Opening my mouth once more, I go to apologise before she cuts me off.

'That doesn't mean a thing,' she retorts with a scoff. 'Don't you remember how your dad and I got together?'

'Of course.'

'We were fourteen. Split up at sixteen when he left to tour Europe,' she tells me anyway. I've heard the story a thousand times, yet it still leaves a content warmth in my stomach every time I hear it. And this time... it's the first time Dad hasn't been here to tell it with her. 'It was five years before we ran into each other again. Right here in Alford Lakes. We were adamant that we weren't meant to be together. And you know I was dating John Reece at the time.' She pauses, smiling as she looks at her own breakfast. 'Your dad and I tried to resist how we felt for two years after he returned. He even dated other women.' She laughs.

'Until, finally, Dad showed up at your parents' house with nine different coloured roses,' I finish the story for her, smiling at the idea of my dad, younger of course, fumbling around in the mud to make my mother happy.

'Yes. One for every year we'd known one another.' Mum smiles. 'My father was furious that he ruined our garden. He'd pinned each and every rose to a metal spike before shoving it in the ground.'

'Very romantic.' I giggle. It brings me great pleasure to know that my own parents weren't much more angelic than I was when they were younger.

The smile falls from Mum's face as she reaches across the table and covers my hand with her own. 'Time doesn't always mean closure,' she tells me. The very root of the words is penetrating through my skin, shattering me to the core. It's the sentence that's made the most sense in the entire twenty-four hours that I've been here, but... it's absolutely absurd. The years of separation between Jax and I have provided me enough closure. It's been years. I'm simply rattled by seeing him yesterday. That's all.