December
It started the first morning of December. Crisp, frosty air outside. Andie found an excited Rupert dancing around by the door. She let him out and then followed, stepping out into a bizarre, wonderful new world.
Normally on December mornings, or any winter day, really, Andie went out into the bitter cold darkness. It was generally hours before the sun came up. Today bright lights twinkled everywhere around her and in the distance, as though she’d stepped into the stars.
It was magical. Crisp wintery frost with sparkling fairy lights. As though snowflakes had come to life around her.
Strings of lights framed her cottage and the barn in the distance. Little lamps lined the paths around the farm. She thought there might have been lamps dangling from trees in the orchard, but it was hard to tell.
“What on earth is happening? Did you sneak out, Rups?” Andie laughed when he pranced around her and then dashed off down the path. “Add a little twinkle to our farm?”
There were no other decorations. Just strings of lights and little lanterns. Andie immediately went to the small cottage. She knocked on the door when she noticed the lights on inside.
Doc opened the door a sliver and peered out at her. “Morning.”
“You going to let us in?” Andie grinned at him.
“No.” Doc closed the door on her.
Andie stared at the door for a full five seconds, then glanced down at Rupert, who wagged his tail. “Odd things are afoot, Rups.”
On the second day of December, Andie woke up to find three wreaths around the farm. One on the cottage and one on the tiny house, along with a third on the barn doors. They were beautifully simple and suited her style, with plaid ribbon intricately woven with evergreen foliage, dried oranges, and pinecones.
The following morning, Andie found a little tray of breakfast tartlets and a coffee thermos on her kitchen counter. They were squares of puff pastry filled with bacon, sausage, and a perfectly fried egg in the centre. She frowned down at Rupert, who was trying to sneak one off the table.
“You’re a terrible guard dog, Rups.” Andie munched on one of the pastries while wandering around the kitchen, making herself a cup of coffee. “How about we take some of this over to see if we can get a sneak at what Doc’s hiding in the cottage, eh?”
No amount of cajoling could convince Doc to allow her inside. He slipped outside, shutting the door behind him. His attempt at an air of innocence was only mildly better than Rupert’s when he’d snuck a sausage off her plate at breakfast.
Every single day brought a fresh surprise. On the seventh, Andie awoke to a fully decorated tree in her living room and the smell of food being cooked. She hadn’t heard a thing.
How was he doing it?
Doc was in her kitchen, casually cooking breakfast like nothing had changed. “Morning.”
“Have you by any chance been sneaking sleeping pills in snacks for Rupert?” Andie stared in awe at the tree while Doc continued mucking about in the kitchen. “How is he not waking up.?”
There was a pause.
“I am joking,” Andie clarified. “You’re sneaky.”
Doc nodded and returned his attention to whatever he was fixing up for breakfast. “All the magic of Santa.”
“Santa?”
“Long beard, red suit, creepy bastard who sneaks into your house without being invited.” Doc eyed her thoughtfully for a second before they both burst out laughing. “Ever consider how truly terrifying some childhood fables are when seen through the lens of adulthood?”
“They weren’t meant for adults—but yes.”
“I once argued with my parents that anyone who barters for teeth while I’m sleeping should be reported to the police.” Doc motioned for her to join him in the kitchen. He nodded to the mugs of coffee already prepared. “I refused to put even one under my pillow.”
“The tooth fairy? You argued about getting free money?”
“Money for teeth. My teeth. Am I the only person to find it odd?” Doc shuddered.
Something about the image of wee Docherty Fabre debating the disturbing nature of the tooth fairy at five years old sent her into uncontrollable giggles. Andie grabbed onto the counter and tried to stop laughing. He sighed, waiting for her to finish.
“I can’t….” Andie trailed off into another fit of snickering. She held her sides. “Oh, it hurts. I can’t breathe.”
“You’re talking.”
Andie fell back on everything she’d learned as a mature adult and stuck her tongue out at him. “Are you planning on doing something every morning?”
“A magician never gives away his secrets.”
No matter how Andie tried. Doc refused to provide any further answers. She found herself trying to guess what might come next.
Every morning had brought some surprise, whether large or small. It was the most amazing advent calendar to have ever been gifted. Andie fell a little more in love with him each day.
Despite all her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to discover what he’d planned for Christmas Eve. She had a lot of her own traditions for the day. But without her family, they all seemed pointless.
Andie went to sleep the day before with a slightly dimmed mood.
She missed her family. For the first time since the start of pandemic, she wasn’t able to simply push aside those thoughts. There was no getting around their absence during the holidays.
“We’ll manage, right, Rups?” Andie wrapped her arms around him and tried to find a silver lining. “At least we’re all healthy and safe.”
Christmas Eve dawned bright and early; Andie had woken up to no surprise at all. She wasn’t quite sure how to react. Maybe things had finally come to an end.
All the decorations were up across the farm and in the cottage. There had been so many little treats, from holiday-themed pyjamas to scented bath bombs. She felt well and truly spoiled by him.
It was late in the evening when Rupert repeatedly barked by the back door. Andie threw her thick bathrobe over her pyjamas and shoved her feet into her boots. Her dog’s bladder waited for no one.
“Come on then, Rups. One last time before bed.” Andie frowned when she heard voices. She made her way toward the back of the barn. “What the—”
Doc had somehow strung a sheet up across the back of the barn. He had a projector playing one of her favourite holiday films. Two lounge chairs with several blankets sat on either side of a portable steel container where a roaring fire was going. “Merry Christmas Eve.”
“Doc.”
“You’ve got a tradition with your parents to watch A Christmas Carol every twenty-fourth.” Doc grabbed a tablet she hadn’t noticed. He twisted it around to show her parents on Zoom. “I thought you three might enjoy it this way. You can prop them up and….”
“Doc.” Andie found herself in tears at his thoughtfulness. She’d been missing her parents. Ignoring them on Zoom for a moment, she rushed over to throw her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“Those are happy tears, right? I can never tell.”
“Whatever you do, don’t kiss in front of us. I have innocent eyes.” Her father’s teasing voice came out from the tablet in Doc’s hand. “Very innocent eyes.”
“It’s the only part of him that’s innocent.” Her grandmother spoke up from off-screen.
“Nonna.” Andie backed away from Doc, offering him a slight apology before taking the tablet. “Buon Natale.”
They all greeted her. She laughed a little teary-eyed when her grandparents squeezed into frame behind her parents. They were all there.
Healthy and there.
Andie didn’t think she could ask for anything more for the holidays, particularly this year. She grabbed Doc’s hand when he went to walk away. “Watch with us?”
“You sure?”
Andie squeezed his hand gently. She wanted him to feel like part of the family. They’d been inching closer and closer to that over the course of the last year. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“Were we ever this nauseating?” Her father broke into the conversation again.
“Constantly,” her nonna retorted immediately. “Worse.”