Avonlea Apples's Blog

As it is getting rather late on Christmas Eve, and my presents are wrapped, I thought I’d leave you with two short stories. Truth be told, they aren’t short stories. They’re part of a book I’m working on (oh dear, that sounds pretentious). Anyway, the first is set several years (at least ten) before the second. Sorry for not posting since Thanksgiving, I’ve been quite busy.

To sum up: I got an A on my senior thesis. Woohoo! I also had my highest GPA: 3.9224 for the semester, bringing my career total up to 3.6753. Woohoo! And now on to the stories.

Tis the Season

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go…”

The voice is clear and bright as the lady in the bright emerald skirt dances around the room. The man in the slacks stands in the doorway, smiling and shaking his head. He knows that she is quirky. He knows that she is in some ways a little bit childlike, this girl-woman of his. But when she said she loved Christmas, he didn’t quite seem to have understood what she meant.

She’s been humming incessantly since the day after Thanksgiving. Almost everything she hums is either a hymn or a traditional carol- her favorites seem to be O Come All Ye Faithful and Carol of the Bells. Her voice isn’t bad, and depending on the song she is either bright and cheerful, or thoughtful. He found it strangely touching to watch her dance around her apartment last week singing Santa Claus Is Coming to Town while swinging her nephew around in her arms.

Hoping to surprise her, one Friday he took her out to an ice rink, rather than dancing as usual. He was startled to learn ice skating was one area in which she was not proficient. As his family had played hockey for fun, he can skate well enough. Teaching her to ice skate has been interesting, especially once she overcame her fears and threw herself into learning. While she is a good dancer, her hand eye coordination on the ice really is dreadful. The first time she fell down no less than ten times; the second time she glided wobbly across the ice, her smile wide. It was then he first noticed: she had a dimple in each cheek.

It hadn’t occurred to him yet that, marvelous as this girl is, strange as this girl is, she isn’t perfect. The realization somehow makes him love her more.

“Hey! You don’t get to eat any of these unless you help!” she teases, interrupting his reverie. She’s holding a bowl full of sugar cookie dough, and there’s a smudge of flour on her nose. He grins, but refrains from informing her about the stray flour.

“Come on then, silly,” she says, pouting slightly, then grinning. She turns to the counter and begins to roll the dough. A large collection of cookie cutters is already set out on the counter. He smiles as she begins humming to herself again.

“Did you see where the tree went?” She asks as she cuts out a star. He smirks, unable to resist teasing her.

“Which one?” He ducks as she tosses a small ball of dough at him and laughs.

“The cookie cutter one!” She says, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Oh. That one,” he replies.

Her apartment is covered in Christmas trees, and he’s been ribbing her mercilessly about it. There’s a real one in her living room, two tiny fake ones on the kitchen table as centerpieces, a small one in the bathroom, and a four foot tall one in her bedroom. He’ll never admit it, but he finds them, and her, adorable.

“Found it!” She says happily, picking the cookie cutter off the floor and rinsing it off.

“Oh, come on. You’ve done nothing but stand there, you great lump of a man,” she teases. He gives her a wounded look.

“I did help you hang all the garlands in the living room,” he says, defending himself.

“Only after laughing at me because I couldn’t reach high enough,” she retorts with a smile.

“Yes, and I helped carry in that monster of a tree,” he continues. She chuckles in amusement, no doubt remembering how much he swore as he tried to get it up the stairs.

“And, most importantly, I got you an early present,” he concludes. She blushes and shakes her head.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she says in halfhearted reproach as she puts down the dough to come give him a hug. She wraps her arms around him and rests her head against his chest. He hugs her back, then pulls away for a moment and looks at her. There’s a hint of uncertainty in her dark eyes, and the smudge of flour on her little nose. It is at that moment he realizes he is lost.

“You’re adorable,” he says softly before leaning down to kiss her. It would be quite some time before the girl saw the mistletoe he had hung over her head.

Twas The Night Before Christmas

The lady in the candy cane stockings hums to herself as she pushes the cart. The man and the children are in the Christmas section of the store, playing with display music boxes and looking at wrapping paper. But she has dashed off for some last minute shopping, away from wide curious eyes.

First, the toy section. A jump rope and bicycle basket for Katie- the lady suspects Katie will want to decorate the basket, but that can be dealt with later. A set of building blocks and army men for Davy, though that will make his room even more crowded For John, a mildly fancy calligraphy set and journal. He needs the practice. And finally for Rose, the softest stuffed duck she can find.

The gifts safely in her cart, she heads for the grocery. Pot roast, potatoes, carrots, onions, apples, oranges, chocolate covered raisins, dark chocolate, chocolate flecked with almonds, and candied apricots. Yeast, cinnamon, ginger, confectioners sugar. Coffee, the expensive brand they never buy. The children get out of school tomorrow, and she has plans for the last few days before Christmas.

Her purchases made, the children and her husband greet her at the exit. John makes a blatant attempt to peak into the shopping bags, earning him a tap on the head from Davy. John ducks too late, then rubs his head sheepishly and grins.

Once home, the lady shoos the children into their rooms with crayons and paper. The man has unpacked the grocery bags by the time she’s straightened out the children’s coats and boots, and is chopping the onions. She joins him and starts peeling the potatoes. Soon they have the pot roast bubbling away inside the oven.

“Check on the kids, would you? I need to find the wrapping paper,” she says, standing on tiptoe to kiss the man. He smiles and they walk upstairs.

As usual, the ladder to the attic gives her some trouble. But finally it slides down with a reluctant creak, and she climbs up. The attic is a little dusty, and she shifts a few boxes of pre-baby clothes and a cradle. Behind them is a basket, and beside it several rolls of wrapping paper. She grins and grabs them all.

Soon the downstairs table is covered in paper, ribbon, and tape. When the man walks in from shoveling the porch, the lady has ribbon tied in her hair, little bits of tape stuck to her arms, and tissue paper clinging to her apron. She looks a little sheepish.

“Um… wrapping stuffed animals is difficult. Really, really difficult.” Next to a row of neat boxes tied with ribbons are several very lumpy, defeated looking packages.

“We are never, ever giving Rose stuffed animals again,” the lady sighs. The man quirks an eyebrow.

“Until her birthday. And next Christmas. Why couldn’t she like dolls? Those come in nice, neat, easily wrapped boxes,” the lady groans.

“Let me try,” he says, smirking.

Five minutes later, the lady is giggling as the man swears under his breath.

“Told you so” she teases in a sing-song voice. He glares.

“Daddy?” Rose calls from upstairs. The man looks at the woebegone package, then at the lady, eyes pleading.

“Go on then,” the lady sighs. The man grins.

“Thank god,” he says, kissing her before heading upstairs. The lady smiles, then looks at the package. Oh dear.

An hour later, the smell of pot roast is permeating the house. The pile of presents is stacked under the tree, and the table cleared of paper and ribbon. One by one the children emerge from their rooms, noses aquiver.

Katie is the first out, and she is quickly recruited to help set the table. John appears soon after, and at his father’s direction starts crumpling papers for the fire. Rose wanders down next and is put in charge of folding the napkins. Davy has to be called several times before he finally turns up. All four pairs of eyes keep straying to the colorful array of packages.

At last they sit down to dinner. Remembering that Santa is watching, all four children watch their manners carefully. The lady has to resist snorting with laughter when she hears Davy warning John not to slip any vegetables to the dog, or Santa might skip their house.

After dinner they sit down in front of the fire. The stockings knitted by Gramma are hanging in a row, and every now and again a pair of eyes darts to look at them, imagining the treasures that will fill them in the morning. Finally it is bedtime, and the children circle around Dad. While Mommy makes cocoa he begins to read.

“Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…”

The children hang on to every word, except for the momentary glances at the stockings and presents. Though Katie has begun to be quietly skeptical about a chubby man visiting every house in one night, she keeps her questions to herself. Mommy has warned her about letting the others know her suspicions.

Mommy brings the cocoa, and they all drink it quietly, with occasional pleading for more marshmallows (mostly from Rose). All four are beginning to be wound up, as anticipation grows. As soon as the cocoa is done they help Mommy set a plate of cookies and cup of cocoa by the fire, along with a few carrots for the reindeer. Then off to bed, lest Santa pass them by. The lady doubts any of them will fall asleep for a while yet, but they may as well try.

Once the children are all tucked in snugly, the man and lady return downstairs. The fire has nearly burned out, but with a fresh log it begins to gleam anew. The lady sits down on the floor, knees brought up to her chin as she watches the flames.

This, she thinks, is one thing she appreciates about their new house. The fireplace is wonderful during the winter. She smiles, firelight glimmering in her dark eyes, reflecting shades of gold and orange and hints of blue. Tongues of white flame devour the few pieces of kindling left on the edges. The man sits down beside her and wraps his arms around her as she leans into him. Outside flakes of snow are beginning to fall.