His eldest left the kitchen, shouting for her siblings. Charlie took the hot pan out of the oven and started slicing bread. Worse than Tony and Millie, who he had worried about most, Charlotte’s anger over her mother’s leaving lingered the longest. Even Will, who vowed to never see her again, had mellowed. How would any of them feel if they knew, once his ego got over the sting of her affair, Charlie had been all for the divorce itself? It was the thought losing his kids he could not handle. To see them only every other weekend and two weeks a year? He couldn’t do it. Gina had made a difficult decision, after more than half her life mothering, to follow love to Florida. Charlie didn’t know how she did it, but he cried like a kid when she didn’t contest his request for full custody, as long as he sent them to her over summer break, and every other Christmas. He had not done either, yet. The kids had refused. Gina let it slide, she said, to let them get used to things.
The real reason was that Gina and Bertie’s house on the beach was way too small to house five kids. This summer would be different, though. His in-laws had finally forgiven Gina enough to see her. She was spending Christmas with them. If all went well, he’d put the kids on a plane as soon as school was out for the summer, and they’d spend it with their mother at their grandparents’ house. She would see her children for the first time in over a year, and he would be alone in Bitterly for the first time in his life.
A week ago, that thought had hollowed his stomach. Today, thoughts of Johanna Coco still popping up at random in his head, it brought an only-slightly-guilty smile to Charlie McCallan’s lips.
* * * *
Luminaries lined the barely shoveled sidewalks. The street had not been plowed after the last snowfall to allow for the horse-drawn sleigh rides usually turned into hayrides for the lack of it. Strings of white lights lit up the trees erected along the length of the Green. The clomping of hooves and jingle of bells rang a constant harmony. Bitterly-town was a Christmas card, painted by Norman Rockwell, and already, groups were singing.
Charlie stood in line with Millie and Tony, gazing at the spectacular, drawn into the familiarity and the joy of this town he loved. He never understood the disdain his wife—ex-wife—had for Bitterly.
Probably reason one why we’re not still married.
Charlie let his thought end there—it would lead to no place good—and instead hoped the twins got their turn before the caroling started. People came from several towns around for the annual sleigh-ride and carol-sing. There were more in attendance than in years previous. He and the kids had already been in line an hour.
“Here you go.” Charlotte returned bearing hot chocolate, handing them around.
“Thanks,” the twins chorused, using mittened fingers to flip the sip-lid that left brown stains behind.
“Do you mind if I go back to the coffee shop?” Charlotte leaned in to ask. “A few friends from high school are hanging out.”
“Not at all. Go. You want me to come find you when we’re done here?”
“Or you can use your cell.”
Charlie laughed. “Right. I’ll call you.”
“Text. Dork.”
He laughed. “Fine, I’ll text you. Have fun.”
Charlotte kissed her little brother and sister, cackling madly as they squealed and wiped their cheeks. She trotted across the street and back into the brightly lit coffee shop where she had worked during high school. Once inside, she pulled off her cap and mussed her hair into spikes.
Charlie sipped at whatever it was passing for hot chocolate in his cup just as the sleigh came whooshing by. The scent of chocolate, the phantom taste of Johanna’s ambrosia a few mornings ago, and the sound of her laughter hit him all at once. He looked up in time to see her in the sleigh, arms raised over her head, whooping as if she were on a roller coaster.
Charlie’s gaze followed her sleigh down the Green, and up again. He counted the people still ahead of him, the number of sleighs loading and unloading.
“You want to go ahead of us?” he said to the mother and her three kids behind him. “We have to finish our chocolate.”
“You sure?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Daddy,” Tony whined as the family moved around them and into the next sleigh. “We could have gone. Everyone else has their hot chocolate on the sleigh.”
“It’s ok, Ton. We’ll get the next one. Hey,” Charlie pointed, “Isn’t that your friend Henry?
“Where?”
“On the sleigh coming up, right there.”
Tony and Millie craned their necks. His daughter scowled but his son waved a hand over his head. The sleigh carrying Henry, Gio, Ian, Julietta, some guy he didn’t recognize, and Johanna slid to a stop. Tony ran to greet his friend, his booted feet clumsy and sliding out from underneath him.
“Ho, there, little man.” The gentleman Charlie didn’t recognize scooped Tony up just as he was about to slide under the sleigh. “Careful.”
“That’s my friend,” Henry said. “Tony McCallan.”
“Pleased to meet you, Tony. I’m Efan.”
Efan offered his hand, man to man. Tony grasped it, pumping enthusiastically. “Thanks. I almost slid into horse poop.”
“That would have been unfortunate.” Efan let go of Tony’s hand to turn back to the sleigh. He offered his hand to Julietta with a chivalrous bow. “My lady?”
“Why thank you, kind sir.”
“’Tis my pleasure to assist a’wan so fair.”
“Move it along, you two.” Johanna nudged her sister from behind. Julietta stumbled forward and into Efan’s arms. Charlie noted that he did not let go of her, but held her even closer.
“Our turn,” Millie shouted, jumping up and down. Charlie offered his hand to Johanna. He, however, let go the moment her feet touched the ground.
“Thanks, Dan.” She waved to the driver.
Charlie hadn’t even noticed his friend sitting there. He murmured, “Hey, Dan.”
“Nice night for this, eh, Charles?”
“I can’t remember a better one.”
“Because there has never been one. That’s what we were just saying, weren’t we Jo?”
“Hey”—Millie pointed—“he called her Joe too.” Millie turned to Johanna. “Why does everyone call you a boy’s name?”
“Only people I knew when I was little. Jo, like Johanna. See? Like people call you Millie, but your name is Camellia.”
“How did you know my whole name? No one ever calls me it, unless I’m in trouble.”
Johanna’s eyes flicked to Charlie. “I’ve known your daddy and mommy a long time. I remember when you were born.”
“You do?”
“Very, very well.”
“Can Henry come with us?” Tony pushed between Charlie and Johanna. “Please?”
“He already had his turn,” Johanna began, but Dan waved him back in—which naturally led to Gio and Ian both begging another turn.
“Climb on in, boys,” Dan laughed. “I’ll need at least one adult, though.”
“We’ll go.” Julietta leapt back into the sleigh. Johanna opened her mouth as Efan climbed in behind her, but closed it again. After the sleigh pulled away with a whoosh and a jingle, she said, “I didn’t have the heart to tell her to give you a turn.”
“I wouldn’t have had