Silver & Gold: Part Two
—-xxx—-
Too bright and early, Castle heads down for the garage storage with only the vaguest outline of a plan.
The sun is a smudge of grey-green over the water, and he pauses at the bottom of the servant stairs to watch the sky lighten and the waves buck in the ocean. The clouds are blurred, no distinctions, a foreboding of a coming storm.
Mia will love it. She is wholly absorbed in the power of a thing, whether that's a storm lashing the trees until they bend to touch the gazebo roof, or the ordinary sorcery of the remote control over the television. She wants always to have someone's phone or iPad, to be at the wheel or at the controls, and he's faintly ashamed it's taken him this long to break out the Christmas decorations when she will be so enraptured.
What else is Christmas for, but the wonder in a little one's eyes?
When he was dumping the closet organizer in here in disgust, he'd caught sight of all the boxes and plastic tubs of his decades of Christmas memories. That horrendous vintage wise man on his mangy-looking camel was a hit of nostalgia so strong he'd been forced to sit down.
(On a plastic tub containing a number of his more expensive glass ornaments usually saved for the fancier tree he used for holiday parties, and of course, the crunch was loud.)
He hasn't tossed out those ornaments yet, but he's not here for clean-up.
He's here for Christmas. It's already December; the month has sneaked up on him while he wasn't looking. It's the first holiday season without his mother. And while it's not like Mia will remember any of this, traditions or no, he and Kate will. Mia might never remember these years with them, how they cared for her every need, became her surrogate parents while her own couldn't face up to the responsibility, but he and Kate will always have this. For their sakes, for Kate's, he wants to create memories this holiday.
Thanksgiving was actually not too bad this year. Kate surprised him with a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and they ate re-heated takeout from the diner in the village: buttery mashed potatoes, meatloaf with apples in it, and a rich concoction of stir-fried squash. Mia was hunkered down before the iPad on the floor, watching Moana for the thousandth time, a roll in each fist. It was the first time they'd heard her singing, soft and nonsense words, to herself, as she followed the story.
They didn't put a lot of pressure on Thanksgiving, and it turned out okay. (Dr Burke was right, it's too much to try to keep things the same when everyone knows they're not.)
Castle opens the door to the connected four-car garage, flips on the bank of lights. The nativity scene is mostly gone, he and Robert took it over to Church Kitchen in his truck a few days ago, but the other tubs and containers are still here, a bit askew as they were forced to search through everything to find the light-up lamb.
He wanders through the maze of boxes, fingers touching lightly over the ones his wife labeled Martha. He asked her to do all the storage, he put that off on her because he couldn't face it, but here's another task on his ever-growing to-do list: sort through his mother's things.
Not now. But soon.
After the holidays. Just get through the holidays. Get through January. Maybe in the spring he can face it.
He doesn't want to put pressure on Christmas either; he's not going to go all out. But last year when Robert quietly went about decorating their lawn while Mother was in the hospital, his heart was so uplifted to see those cheerful green and red lights lining the drive as he came home from her window-side (he wasn't allowed in the hospital because of Covid restrictions; he sat outside her window and talked to her on speaker phone, as the nurse gave him sympathetic looks, checking in from time to time, Mother unconscious and on a ventilator)—
Mother died two days before Kate's mother's death day. What an awful anniversary. He's been dreading it since the day he saw, on the white board in Mother's ICU room, anointed by Father Tim. She wasn't even religious; he's not sure she believed in anything more than epic love and the eternal power of the theatre. But as he had confessed to Kate that evening, the knowledge that a priest came into her room and touched her forehead with holy water and said some kind of prayer, spoke to her in her deep unconsciousness—he can't express how grateful he is for that.
While the lights lining the drive will always be bittersweet, while he's not sure just how many of his traditions will make it this year, having Mia with them has already invigorated his holiday spirit.
Castle opens the first container he comes across and checks the contents, closes it up again when it's nothing more than Alexis's old hand-made ornaments and children's toys. The next one contains the wreaths he used to hang in the loft; he puts those to one side for later. Boxes of gaudy baubles, containers of the Nutcracker figurines from Alexis's obsession with the ballet when she was eight, smaller storage bins with lights and more lights and even more lights.
He finally finds what he's been looking for in one of the largest tubs, a green base with a red lid, obvious to him now that it's open. It's not the same as his others, it's a bit more battered, signs of the many years and the many iterations. It smells faintly of woodsmoke. Though it probably shouldn't. Just memories.
Castle stands up and hoists the tub onto one hip, makes for the house with his treasure. He pauses at the foot of the grand staircase as Kate descends, watching her as she coughs into a fist.
She shuffles into the kitchen past him, clears her throat dramatically.
Castle glances at her. She's wincing as she swallows. "You okay?"
"Some drainage."
"Headache?"
She waves him off, reaches for the coffee.
"Does the coffee taste funny?"
"Castle," she snaps. She turns her back on him, opens the fridge for half and half, tips some into her mug. She reaches into the cupboard, withdraws, hand hovering. She drops back on her heels, glances towards her mug, spins slowly in a circle. "Where…"
He hesitates in the kitchen doorway, the plastic bin on one hip. "Uh. Is that new confusion."
"It's not Covid." She pins him with a deadly look. "Where'd you put my vanilla?"
"It's right there. In the cupboard."
She turns back around, finds it this time. She looks faintly concerned.
"Should I have Mia put on her mask—"
"Castle, it's not funny."
"I'm not exactly joking."
"I haven't been out of this house in months." She pours her coffee with too much force and it splashes over the counter. "It's sinuses, I'm sure. Always get something out here in winter."
"A lot more nature than New York," he nods, still studying her.
She glares at him. "What are you doing with that?"
He shifts the container, holds it up a little. "Thought Mia might be interested." He sets the tub on the kitchen stool and pries open the top, tilts the tub so she can see.
Two eyebrows go up. She sips her coffee.
"What?"
"If that thing…" She pressed a thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. "Set it up in the baby palace. Not in the living room, Rick."
"Of course, yeah."
"I don't love it," she warns him. "If there's anything we're going to keep from all of your Christmas decor… this wouldn't be my first choice."
He deflates a little.
"But you're right," she sighs. "Mia is going to love it."
Castle beams, gathers the tub back to himself, and turns for the former dining room.
—-xxx—-
"Hey, want to go see what Pops has for you?"
"Ai, ai, Mikey." But it's mumbled, sleep-soft, her lashes keep touching her cheeks.
She's not sure how she has managed to be left with the dubious honor of carrying Mia downstairs to the special surprise waiting for her in the baby palace. Probably Rick was putting some last minute touches to the whole thing while she changed Mia out of the pull-up, washed her face.
"How was your sleep, little sloth?" she asks the baby. Kissing cheeks and cupping the back of her curly-haired head. Mia curls in on Kate's chest, heavy toddler, warm from sleep, unresponsive as she cuddles. "Mm, did you hear the storm this morning?"
Mia sighs.
Kate straightens her green footed pajamas, eases the neck down where it looks like it's chafed her in her sleep. "Outgrowing your clothes again, my big girl."
"Big ger," Mia parrots. "Like Mona."
"Yeah, like Moana, you're a big girl now, wearing pull-ups at night."
"Big ger."
Mia picks up her head. Already the sounds of Castle's surprise are echoing down the hall. "Ai?"
This word she's made up, ai, is substitute for yes and what and is often a shriek.
"You want to see what Pops has for you?" she asks, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper.
It works, Mia's eyes growing wider, her body stiffening. She jerks forward, so Kate swings her down to her feet, letting her run on ahead.
Sure enough, there's a shriek when Mia hits the baby palace at full speed.
Kate rounds the corner and comes to a stop just inside Mia's playroom, leans her shoulder to the cased opening with a smile.
Mia is spinning in a circle to take it all in, her eyes sparkling dark and huge, her mouth open in shock.
Kate chuckles. "What do you think, Mia? What Pops did."
"So much," Mia says, her arms out to either side now, as if she wants to touch from wall to wall.
Castle, sitting in the window seat, has the controls in his hand and he makes the train go faster on the tracks, grinning as Mia darts after the train. The tracks are pretty impressive, Kate has to admit, because he's managed to suspend them over Mia's kitchen set, send the train down a slow sloping mountain to the book nook, where the tracks meander back and forth before sliding inside her tent and coming back out the back side to journey on.
It's Castle's favorite, and she knows that, the Polar Express which he started setting up for Alexis when she was little because they couldn't ride the real one. He's expanded it many times, elaborate structures for the town village, for Santa's workshop, for the train station. The train itself has gone through a few iterations, updates, fancy steam engine and decorated caboose. Painted sprigs of holly, gingerbread scallops on the roof, little train workers inside.
The train's whistle goes off at Castle's command and Mia shrieks and goes chasing after it, scooting in under the tent flap and racing out the other side, following the train on its track. Kate takes the direct approach, coming to the end of the line where Rick has set up the North Pole, all of it not precisely child-friendly, but he's never said no to his girls.
A breakfast tray, also holiday-themed, awaits them. She didn't know about this part, having just managed to get enough coffee in her to wake up before going in to wake Mia. Kate smiles and plucks a hot cocoa from the tray, sits down in the window seat with her husband.
Rick keeps both hands on the train's controls, but he bumps her shoulder with his as they both watch Mia scamper after the train.
Kate sips hot chocolate and nudges her nose into his jaw. A kiss. A pass of her lips over the faint burr of his unshaven cheek.
"Good job, Pops," she says softly. "You were right. She loves it."
"Let's get that statement recorded for posterity," he chuckles, but his voice is filled with pride. "She really does love it, doesn't she."
"Yeah."
When Mia makes it to Santa's Village, and the train stops before the reindeer's stable, she lifts her glowing face and claps. "More more more!"
"We'll make it go around again," Castle promises. "Want some hot chocolate in Santa's Village?"
Mia glances around, mouth in a wide o of shock. "Where him?"
"Where who?" Kate asks, lifting so Castle can lean forward and present the safety-top mug to Mia.
For once, she ignores it. "Where him at?" She spins in a circle.
"Santa you mean?" Kate chuckles. "Don't you see him? He's in the reindeer stable checking on Rudolph."
Mia goes down to her knees and puts her cheek to the floor to see inside the stable. "Hi Santa!" She reaches in and pulls out the Rudolph figurine, tapping its nose.
It lights up.
She giggles, holds it up for them to see. "See Mikey! Roff!"
"I see, Rudolph has a red nose."
"I've got your hot chocolate, come sit." Castle approaches with her mug and Mia willingly clambers into his lap and pushes her head back into his chest, mouth open for a sip.
Kate watches as Mia's hands cover Rick's on the mug, trying to help, the girl straining for hot chocolate. Rudolph is abandoned on the rug, but Mia kicks her foot out and lays it over Rudolph while she drinks hot chocolate.
Kate can't imagine what they'd be doing this year without Mia. If they were here while Alexis had her in LA, if the Hamptons beach house really was sold and they were back to being a childless couple in New York. The same slog of crowded winter markets, tree-lighting at Rockefeller, stuffy subway rides to the neighborhoods with elaborate lights—trying to relight their own sense of wonder and joy at the holidays but falling flat, like the grimy slush after a snowfall.
Now all it takes is Mia calling for Santa and slurping hot (barely-warm) chocolate until it spills down her green pajamas and stains the rug.
In a matter of a few minutes, it feels like Christmas.
—-xxx—-