Luke wiped off his hands and went toward Addie and the ornament stash. “Your baby ornament?”
Addie held up a kitten with a little plaque that said Baby’s First Christmas.
“That’s so cute,” I said, coming closer to look at it. “It must be getting pretty old if it’s as old as you.”
“Not as old as my daddy’s,” she said, giggling.
Luke pulled out one with a teddy bear in a Santa hat with a candy cane. It too said Baby’s First Christmas, but it was indeed showing its age.
“I love that you still have those,” I said. There’d not been any decorations in the James house celebrating my first Christmas, which was just as well. I didn’t really want any family souvenirs from my childhood.
Addie attached a hook to her ornament, then carried it over to me. “Will you hang this up really high for me, Miss Magnolia? It has to go up first.”
“Your ornament goes up first?” I repeated, glancing over at Luke.
“Tradition,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want to hang it yourself, bug?”
“This time I want Miss Magnolia to do it. Real high up.”
“I can’t get it quite as high as your daddy can,” I told her. “You want him to do it?”
She shook her head. “You.”
“Okay.” Again, I looked over at Luke, whose smile was swoony and full of affection.
I hung the ornament on the highest branch I could reach, earning applause from Addie.
“That looks real good,” Mr. Durham said from his chair.
“Are you going to hang your favorite one, Dad?” Luke asked him.
The older man’s face flipped to a frown. “Addie can do it this year,” he grumped.
That there was friction between father and son was obvious. Still left from the cooking argument at dinner?
Luke shrugged and rifled through the ornaments until he found an antique-looking, breakable ornament of a bride and groom. He handed it to Addie.
“Where do you want yours and Gran’s hung, Pops?” she asked.
“Wherever you think it would look nice,” he told her, just as laidback as could be—in absolute contrast to his tone with Luke.
Luke didn’t let it bother him as he unwrapped and unpacked the ornaments one by one and handed them to me and Addie to hang. She covered the lower branches, and I did my best to fill the top ones.
When we finished overstuffing the tree with years’ worth of ornaments, most of them attached to memories, we turned out all the lights except the ones on the tree. Mr. Durham remained in his recliner. Luke and I sat on the sofa with Addie cuddled between us at her insistence, with instrumental holiday music playing quietly in the background.
I listened as the three of them reminisced about holidays past, from the time when Addie was three years old and Santa brought her a Barbie condo that was taller than her and had her in wide-eyed awe, to a Christmas from Luke’s childhood when his mom had insisted on having a live Christmas tree in every room in the house. Even with the tension between Luke and his dad, there was so much love and care among the three of them.
This was how it should be.
This was what the holiday season should be about. Family, memories, love, togetherness.
I was too afraid to think about the future, to wish for something like this to be mine beyond right now, but I sure could soak it in while I had it.
When the conversation slowed down, Mr. Durham put his recliner upright and eased himself to the edge. “I’m gonna hit the hay, kids,” he said, then slowly stood.
“Night, Pops,” Addie said, sounding drowsy.
Luke and I told him good night as well.
