One More Time | ✓

Chapter Four

Christmas in the Taylor household is a rather understated affair. Given that Chrissy isn't even two weeks old yet, it's kind of hard to make it a big deal when we're all focused on her.

Still struggling with feeling a little out of place, I offer to help Greta make a big breakfast for us all. One of the tricky things about deciding that I want to turn everything around is that it feels like such a monumental task, I have no idea where to start.

So, I decide that pancakes have to be the perfect place. While I make the batter, Greta bustles around, laying the table, making hot drinks and getting all of the million pancake toppings that spring into her head out of the cupboards and fridge.

Both Debra and Chrissy nod off on the sofa, daughter with her head tucked into her mother's neck. Dad is sitting in the armchair opposite, eyes melting as he watches them.

Momentarily, I let myself get distracted from the pancakes as I observe the scene in front of me. Stupidly, I wonder whether that's what Dad looked like when Greta and I were born.

"Adorable, aren't they?" Greta murmurs in my ear, having sidled up to me.

That pulls me out of my trance, so I just hum in agreement and get on with flipping the pancakes. The last thing I want is for any of them to burn. I'm not exactly great in the kitchen, but pancakes are relatively easy, although they are relatively easy to burn, too.

Once I've got a respectable stack of them ready to eat, I quietly call to Dad to let him know that we're ready to start eating, whenever they are.

Somehow, Dad manages to wake Debra without disturbing Chrissy, so she's able to come to the table with her baby in her arms and awkwardly try to eat a couple of pancakes.

When Chrissy wakes, I've already eaten a fair few pancakes, so I carefully extract her away from Debra and walk into the living room, gently burping her as I go. She gurgles against my shoulder, but thankfully, her crying gradually ceases as I hold her tight against me.

"You know," I murmur conversationally to my younger sister. "This is the first time that I've enjoyed Christmas in a few years. The last few ones have been pretty lonely, but I'm actually enjoying this one, all thanks to you. Even if I do feel a little awkward being back."

Greta has always come back here for Christmas and tried in vain to persuade me to return with her, but I've always refused the offer, no matter how much she protested. Each of the last three years, I've made up a different excuse of who I would spend Christmas with, but each of them was a lie. I've always gone to the local homeless shelter and helped serve a meal there instead. 

Although it was satisfying knowing that I was doing something for other people, none of it ever really filled the hole in my heart that I'd carved out. 

Chrissy replies with something entirely non-sensical, but I'd be willing to bet that she's berating me for having waited so many years to come back here, especially for Christmas.

"I know," I respond softly. "It's just been kind of hard, you know? Maybe one day, I'll tell you everything. Maybe I'll tell you all about my Mom. Greta and I went to see her today, you know. We told her all about you. She'd have loved you, I'm sure."

This time, Chrissy just exhales, her hot breath fanning my neck.

"Yeah, okay, I hear you," I chuckle, burping her a little more. "You'd have loved her, too."

Dropping a kiss on the crown of her head, I continue walking around the living room, tuning out the quiet chatter from the kitchen, where the other three are still eating breakfast. I'm kind of grateful for this moment I have alone with Chrissy, if nothing else than just for it helping to keep my head screwed on straight. Somehow, they all let us be for a bit.