After I’m completely decked out, I wave my candy cane wand and meet everyone outside of Poppy’s room. Abbie and the Brant twins are giggly, dressed like snow princesses and angels. Will, in a toy soldier outfit, gives me a sourpuss look and walks over to Nash, who has a guitar hanging over his shoulder.
Damon and Wes come down the hall carrying large boxes of decorations, and Braden is nowhere in sight. Neither is Susanna.
A hushed excitement is in the air, and it’s infectious. I have the jitters because it feels like we’re going to go on stage for a play, but the others have the gleaming look of anticipation instead of nerves.
“Ready?” Wes asks. He raps two short knocks and opens the door a crack. “It’s Christmas Eve in the North Pole, and Santa’s got to set up shop. Let’s deck these halls with merriment and mirth.”
“Merry Christmas!” Abbie and Will scamper into the room first. They rush up to the hospital bed and greet Poppy with hugs and kisses.
“Ho, ho, ho,” Poppy says in a weak voice. “Welcome to the North Pole, my little Elfprentices, Will and Abbie. Ho, ho, ho.”
Lindsay and Jolene enter with baskets of popcorn, cranberries, and cookies. Susanna twirls her way in with a lasso of Christmas lights. I’m glad she chose the Christmas cowgirl outfit instead of the Victorian prude. I bet she’s not that old, certainly not as old as Braden.
Almost everyone is present, even the home health aide and two young guys who are Riley and Macy’s friends. They don’t look like the cowhands I met earlier, but then, young ladies have many suitors, I suppose.
Where is Braden? He’s missing all of this.
Should I look for him? But would a sixteen-year-old look for her father or enjoy the sugar cookies and the fun?
Nash strums a chord on the guitar and calls out the first Christmas carol, “Deck the Halls,” and everyone joins in on the song.
There’s a hive of activity in the large guestroom which is equipped with its own fireplace. Wes and Damon hang the garlands and wreaths on the walls and over the doors.
I volunteer to thread the popcorn, using cranberries as spacers. Riley and one of the young men tie ribbons. Will sprays fake snow, and Addie throws tinsel up on the top branches. After I’m finished with the popcorn and cranberry garland, I take out the boxes of heirloom ornaments and show them to Poppy.
Since he thinks I’m his great-granddaughter, he explains to me the significance of each ornament. There are antiques, handmade and store-bought. Each one brings a memory of a person, an event, or a trip. Must be nice to have so many fun experiences and meaningful moments tied up with family tradition.
“I’m expecting you to remember the story behind every one of these,” Poppy says, showing me one dedicated to the Powers Christmas angel—the little baby sister who passed away with Braden’s mother that Christmas Eve so many years ago.
“It’s precious.” I lift the angel onto one of the high branches. It’s a little girl with her hands together in prayer. Feathered wings sprout from her back, and a gold glitter halo is attached to the top of her head.
Nash transitions the song to “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.”In the middle of the song, the French doors swing open, and Braden swaggers in wearing a dark-gray Italian suit. The only concession to Christmas is a red and white candy-striped silk tie.
He looks around like he’s some kind of celebrity making an entrance, and the temperature drops several degrees as the rest of the family gawp at him.
“Really?” I walk up to him, then quickly add. “Dad.”
He dots a kiss on my cheek and whispers, “Be good. This is important, and I’m paying you.”
“I’m doing it for Poppy.” I clench my teeth. “Why are you acting strange?”
“I don’t do Christmassy stuff.” He waves his hands at the decorations. “They like it, but it’s overboard. Like a TV show or something.”
“Shush.” I give him a decidedly un-daughter-like shove.
“So, the prodigal son is back but doesn’t want to dance with the elves,” Lindsay says, waving a large candy cane at Braden.
“I’m here to add to the cheer. Ho. Ho. Ho,” he deadpans. “Who says Christmas has to be tacky?”
“Come on, Dad.” I push him away from Lindsay’s scrutiny. “Help me untangle the lights.”
Susanna left a pile, preferring to run back and forth from the kitchen to fetch snacks and drinks. I notice she’s always serving Damon first and giving him the best decorated cookie.
As soon as Braden and I are on the other side of the tree, I hiss, “We’re doing this for Poppy. So what if all of this holiday cheer rubs you the wrong way?”
He stares at the rolls of tangled lights. “My mother did all of this better.”
“I’m sorry.” I place my hand on his shoulder. “But right now, your mother’s looking down at us, and she doesn’t want to see you sad. I would think she loves everyone here and she doesn’t mind Jolene running the show.”
