Chapter 3 - The Cold Holiday
By afternoon, the house was quiet again, but the festive warmth was completely gone. The scent of cinnamon rolls felt mocking. My mother spent hours in the kitchen, her hands trembling as she washed dishes that hadn't even been used, while my father sat in the study with the door closed, making phone calls to his legal contacts.
I sat on the floor of the guest bedroom, using wood glue I found in the garage to piece the little painted train engine back together. Tyler sat beside me, handing me the small wooden wheels one by one, his silence louder than any tantrum could have been.
Melody was propped up on the bed, her tablet in her lap. "Mom?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"Is Aunt Jessica going to jail?"
I sighed, setting the glued engine down on a piece of cardboard. "I don't know yet, Melody. Grandpa is figuring that out. But you did a very brave thing today. You protected your grandmother's memory."
"I didn't do it for the ring," Melody whispered, her lower lip trembling for the first time all day. "I did it because she broke Tyler's train. She shouldn't have thrown the train."
A knock sounded on the bedroom door, and my mother walked in carrying a tray of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she forced a smile for the children.
"Tyler, sweetie, look what Grandma found in the attic," she said, setting the tray down and reaching into a canvas bag she had brought with her. She pulled out an old, beautifully preserved cast-iron train set—the one my father had played with when he was a boy. "This one is much stronger. It won't break, no matter what."
May you like
Tyler’s eyes went wide as he reached for the heavy metal locomotive. The tentative smile that crept back onto his face was the first real Christmas gift I had received all day.
But as the children played, my mother caught my eye and gestured toward the hallway. The storm outside was worsening, but the storm within our family was only beginning to pick up speed.
