Chapter 1 - The Warm Light Behind Grandma
The wreath was right above us. I could see the little gold balls caught in the green and smell something sweet and warm coming from inside, like cookies and heat from the vents. Lily's mitten was wet in my glove and she was leaning all her weight into my side. Behind Grandma the hallway glowed yellow and I could see the edge of a tree. Our cheeks stung from the cold and our boots were already soaked through from the walk over, and that warm air hit our faces for just a second when she opened the door wider.
It didn't make sense. The house smelled like Christmas and Grandma was standing there in her beige cardigan with her short gray hair combed neat, and Lily was holding her tan bunny so tight its ears were flat. We were right there on the brick stoop where we'd been a hundred times before, and Grandma wasn't stepping back to let us in. Her hand stayed on the edge of the door.
My name is Emma, I was eight that Christmas Eve, and that morning Dad hadn't come home.
It was getting dark early the way it did that week, that flat gray daylight that never really got bright. Mom had left us in the apartment with the heat clicking and said she'd be right back, then the neighbor lady had walked us to Grandma's because Lily wouldn't stop crying. I remember the salt grit under my black boots on her steps. I remember the wreath shaking a little when the door moved. Lily looked up and she used her worried voice, the small one she used when she didn't want to get in trouble. "Grandma, daddy's in the hospital."
Grandma looked down at us. She didn't bend down. She didn't look at me first, she looked at Lily and her mouth went tight. The warm light was right behind her head and it made it hard to see her eyes. "Your mother should have called."
I kept holding Lily's hand. I could feel her fingers curling inside her gray mitten, trying to get warm. The bunny was tucked under her other arm against her light blue snowsuit, and her cream hat with the pom had slipped down over one eyebrow. I wanted to fix it but I didn't let go of her. My maroon coat felt too big and heavy and my own gloves were damp inside. Behind Grandma, I could hear a clock ticking.
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I thought if Mom had called, we would be inside by now. I thought if Dad was really in the hospital, Grandma would open the door wider instead of holding it. Lily pressed closer to my leg and I put my arm around her without thinking, the way I'd done on the sidewalk when the wind hit us. The heat from the house brushed past us again and then was gone.
Grandma didn't move back. Her fingers tightened on the door and the gap got narrower, and the wreath swung out over us as the door started to close.
