Sip of Assistance

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

  

“Christmas is in a week. You haven’t told me whether or not you’re coming with me yet.” James mentioned as he looked around our Christmas tree at me handing over the string of lights we were placing around it.

I grabbed them from him and strung them up on my side before passing them back around to him. “Right, well as long as you’re really okay with it, I’d like to come with you,” I admitted.

He smiled, handing the last of the strand back to me, “Of course I’m okay with it. Actually I’m really happy you’re coming.”

“Me too,” I smiled back.

“The thought of you here alone on Christmas is terrible and I think you’ll get along well with my family.” Were those the only reasons? Guilt over my solitude and my ability to play well with others?

Ignoring my internal debate, I stepped over to the wall to plug in the cord. The soft glow of twinkling white lights filled the room. James turned off the other light in the room so all we were left with was the glimmering coming from the tree.

“My dad and I used to decorate the tree together on the day after Thanksgiving so the house would smell of pine for the whole month of December,” I said as I sat on the couch legs curled under me. “He said it helped build the anticipation. He always did the lights outside and I took care of hanging the stockings and putting the star on top of the tree.”

“The star? Aren’t you a little short for that task?” He questioned, leaning in the doorway as I had on Thanksgiving.

“Us short people have survived evolution thanks to our resourcefulness. That’s why we invented the ladder,” I replied.

The ding of the oven timer went off. I jumped up and followed James into the kitchen, pulling out the sugar cookies from a hot oven. “These were his favorite,” I said as I grabbed a spatula and took them off the baking sheet placing them on a snow man plate.

“I have just the thing to go with these,” he said, eyes sparkling as per usual before he got started. I waited on the couch for him to finish and for the cookies to cool.

“Alrighty, here you are,” he said, handing me a mug and placing the cookies on the coffee table. I smelled my cup, basking in the cocoa scent and eyeing the small marshmallows that floated on top.

“Smells divine,” I conceded.

“It’s my mum’s recipe for hot chocolate.” He grabbed a now cool sugar cookie and took a bite. “Wow, your father must have loved you because these are terrible.” I looked at him in shock, “No they aren’t they’re delicious!”

“And to think he had to eat them every year, yuck.”

I grabbed one and took a big bite, letting the moist cookie crumble in my watering mouth. It was just as I thought, delightful in every way. “What? This taste’s great!” I turned to see his smiling face taking another bite.

“I know, just thought I’d mess with you. You’re father had great taste.” He chuckled softly to himself.

I ignored him and finished my cookie before sipping on my warm cocoa and wondering what would happen when we went to his parent’s home for Christmas.

Upon our arrival in England we took a cab out to James’ family’s home in the countryside of North Yorkshire, a bit away from hustle and bustle of the city. As we pulled up the long winding driveway the house came into view; a high ceilinged two-story created with a mixture of medium to large russet, taupe, and beige bricks. We parked in front of the large walnut garage door and followed a cobblestone path uphill with lush green bushes on either side until we arrived at the upper level of the house in front of a Victorian walnut door with a cast iron knob and knocker.