Chapter 6
Disclaimer: I realize I haven't said a disclaimer at all! So, if I was Heather Vogel Frederick, I'd be working on the 7th book, not this!
"Ready, set, go!" Dylan cries. Both he and Ryan tear the wrapping paper off their last gifts, tossing the paper over their shoulders.
"Thanks, Jess!" Ryan says, gazing in awe at the stack of new video games.
Dylan is silent, staring at shock at the DS in his hand. He then looks up at me, his eyes wide. "Are you serious, Jess?"
I grin at him. "Yeah, the presents are for both of you. The games go with the DS."
"That's so cool!" crows Ryan, snatching the DS from Dylan. A scuffle ensues as the twins wrestle to gain control of the present.
"A very nice present," my mother says approvingly as she wraps an arm around my shoulders. "Very thoughtful."
Shrugging modestly I say, "Well, I wanted to get something nice for them and that's all I could think of."
My father leans over from where he's lounging in an armchair by the fireplace, "I think we owe you a present, Jess." He has a secretive smile on his face and his eyes are twinkling.
"Don't I have all my presents?" I ask, gesturing at the modest pile beside me.
My mother laughs, "You think that's all you're getting for Christmas?"
She has a point; the pile consists of a few books, socks, and some riding gear. I had been a bit disappointed when I saw them, but had reminded myself that the holiday was more than just the presents.
"I just thought…" I trail off as I see a grin spread across my parents' faces.
My father stands and helps me off the ground. "Okay, grab your coat and I'll meet you in the driveway in two minutes. Dress warm. You too, boys," he tells my brothers, as he leaves the living room.
By now, I'm burning with curiosity. "What is it?" I ask my mother.
She simply gives me a mysterious smile before disappearing after my father. I turn and find my brothers standing, looking rumpled in their pajamas. They look as confused as me but when I give them a questioning look they simply shrug before scampering off to find their boots and coats. Hesitating, I glance around the room, reluctant to go out into the cold morning when there's a fire crackling in the grate and the tree is lit up, casting a cozy glow all around.
Sighing, I head into the hallway and pull on a pair of snow boots (another foot of snow fell during the night) and a puffy jacket. I wrap a scarf loosely around my neck and swing open the front door, really hoping the present is worth going out into the freezing morning. A frigid wind sweeps over me, whipping my hair into my face and sending my scarf flying.
My father catches from where he's standing and holds it out to me, grinning. "Your scarf. Put it on securely. C'mon boys," he calls to my brothers who appear from the back of the house.
Ryan and Dylan tramp through the snow, shoving each other as they go. "What is it, Dad?" one of them asks. It's impossible to tell who is who, especially since they're all bundled up.
"A present for Jess. Wait a second while I find your mother." He troops off, back to the house and my brothers take the opportunity to lob a snowball at me.
"Guys!" I exclaim indignantly, wiping the snow off my face and wincing as some of it makes its way past my collar.
I quickly scoop up some of the powdery snow and shape it into a solid snowball, ignoring the tingling in my fingers from the cold. I throw it at Dylan as hard as possible and duck as another one comes flying towards me. Forming another one, I aim it at Ryan this time and am promptly hit in the chest by a handful of lose snow.
When my parents emerge from the house five minutes later, they find an intense snowball fight in progress which they quickly join. Finally, I'm so exhausted and out of breath from laughter, I just flop down in the snow. My mother laughs and I know I must be a sight; hair soaking wet, fingers red and numb, and pajama pants. I catch glimpses of snowballs flying but I'm content to watch the clouds sail by in the bright blue sky and catch my breath. My ribs ache from laughter and my throat feels raw from yelling but I'm perfectly content.
Eventually, the snowball fight is abandoned and my father comes over to me. "Maybe we need to change into dry clothes and get some tea or something and then show you your present."
"That might be a good idea," my mother agrees, herding all of us into the house where we shed our wet boots, coats, scarves, and gloves.
I retreat upstairs to change into a pair of jeans and t-shirt and dry my hair. Down the hall, I can hear my brothers goofing around and the slamming of draws as they search for clean clothes. Throwing on a NYU sweatshirt and a pair of fuzzy socks, I hurry into the kitchen for cocoa and an update for when I'm going to receive my mysterious present. As I idly stir my hot chocolate, I ponder what my parents could've gotten me. It's obviously too big to be in the house so it's not a laptop (I got a new one for college anyway), or some type of technology. Maybe an animal of some sort? Or a car? Neither of them seems plausible but they're possibilities. It's obvious I'm not going to be able to guess, so I give up and simply enjoy the excitement of Christmas which I thought I had long outgrown.
"Are you having fun sweetie?" my mother asks, wrapping her hands around her mug of coffee. She still looks flushed from the cold and her eyes are bright.
"Definitely. It's nice to be back from college, y'know? At college, I'm mostly around people my own age and Christmas is always fun."
"I remember being at college—so much fun," my mother muses, exchanging a smile with my father.
I hum in agreement and realize that it's almost noon. "Wow, it's getting late. I was planning on seeing Emma later, would you mind driving me?"
"Maybe," my mother says doubtfully and my father casts her a look.
I arch an eyebrow. Only a maybe?
"Hey! Can we go see Jess's present now?" Dylan asks, entering the kitchen.
"I think you might be more eager than Jess is," my father teases him.
Dylan pulls a face and helps himself to cocoa, jostling Ryan as he does. Do boys never calm down?
"Okay, let's go," my mother says. "You can bring your drinks with you."
There's a mad race to get our boots on and then we're all outside in the dazzling sunlight. I squint, trying to find where my present might be hidden. The barn? Garage? My father's workshop? I can't tell so I wait while my father confers quietly with my mother by the front door.
Finally, when I'm feeling as if I might explode from anticipation, my father comes over to where I'm standing. "Let's go to that old garage, the one we never use," he points to the old, but solid, building across the pasture.
"Are you kidding me?" I say, eyeing the deep, untouched snow that lies between us and the garage. "We're never going to make it."
"Don't be silly," my mother says. '"It's a short walk, it won't be that bad."
And she's right. Even though the snow is deep, it's fairly light and Ryan and Dylan go first, forging a path for the rest of us. As I reach the garage, my father stands in front of the door, which has glass panes in it, effectively blocking my view.
"All right, Jess. Here's your present. Merry Christmas." He pushes open the door and lets me in.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust; it's much darker in here than outside but I soon see a large, dark outline. My breath catches; it's a car. I whirl around to face my parents who have the biggest, goofiest smiles on their faces.
"Oh my gosh," I say. "A car! You guys actually got me a car!"
My mother steps forward and wraps me in a hug. "Yeah, we thought you could use one, especially since you're in college."
"I can't believe…" I trail off, overcome with emotion.
"You've done so well in college and now you'll be able to drive yourself back and forth from college," my father adds.
"So that's what this is all about," I give a watery laugh. "Now you guys don't have to drive back and forth from New York City."
"Part of it," my mother jokes. "We also got you a parking spot in a garage near your dorm so you don't have to street park it."
"Thank you," is all I can think to say.
My brothers come to stand near us. "It's not fair Jess got such a big present," they chorus.
I roll my eyes but before I can say anything, my father cuts in, "Relax, when you two are actually old enough to drive you'll get cars."
I slide into the driver's seat, marveling that the car is in fact, all mine. It's a secondhand Subaru, but I'm perfectly fine with that; having a brand new car would leave me paranoid about getting a scratch on it. As I back out of the driveway, I spot my brothers staring enviously from their post by the kitchen window. I can't help but grin at their expressions and wave at them. They scowl back.
My first order of business is to find my favorite radio station, which is playing Christmas themed music. Whenever I take my family's car, the radio is always on some sports station which I hate. Unfortunately, the drive to Emma's is quick and within five minutes, I'm switching off the engine and walking up the pathway to her house.
I climb the steps to the porch and ring the doorbell. A muffled voice, most likely from the back of the house calls, "I'll be right there!" so I stand there, shifting my weight from one foot to the other as I wait to be let in.
The door swings open and there stands Mr. Hawthorne. He's wearing a festive sweater and is holding a spatula. His glasses reflect the light and he has flour on his forehead and looks a bit flustered but when he sees me, his face breaks into a grin.
"Jess! Emma mentioned you might be stopping by. How's college going for you?" He ushers me inside and I catch a whiff of a fragrant dessert coming from the kitchen. "I'm just making Crème Brule as a treat, as well as some sugar cookies as a treat. I'll bring some up to you when they're done."
"Thanks," I smile at him. Emma appears at the top of the stairs, clad in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
"Hey," she smiles, coming down the stairs.
"Hey back," I reply, giving her a warm hug. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," she says. Then she sighs, "It seems as if that's all I'm saying today."
Mr. Hawthorne chuckles. "What a big problem, Emma," he says, ruffling her curly hair. When Emma only rolls her eyes in response, he chuckles again, "Well, I can see that my presence isn't appreciated so I'll go finish up the baking."
"Thanks, Mr. Hawthorne," I say politely as I follow Emma up the stairs.
"So," she says brightly over her shoulder. "What did you get for Christmas?"
"Well," I say mischievously. "I got some socks, books and riding gear."
"That's all?" she asks, her brow furrowed.
I smirk. "Not quite."
"What else?"
"A car," I tell her casually.
"What?!" she exclaims loudly. "That—that's not fair!"
"What's not fair?" asks Darcy curiously, sticking his head of his room which is at the top of the stairs. Then he sees me and his expression changes from curiosity to surprise, from surprise to embarrassment, and from embarrassment to regret. "Oh, hi Jess," he says awkwardly.
I flush and mutter something that sounds vaguely like, "Hi Darcy", while staring at a spot above his head.
Emma glances between the two of us and sighs loudly and starts to say something, only to think better of it. "Jess got a car for Christmas which is grossly unfair. I've been begging for a car for ages."
Darcy swallows nervously before asking, "What kind?"
I stare at his familiar face, the face that is in most of my childhood and teenage memories. I feel a flood of emotion only to remember the fact that we are broken up due to the fact he cheated on me. Hardening my heart, I answer quietly, "A Subaru."
"Oh, that's cool."
A silence falls, one that's weighted by the fact that a week ago if I'd told him I'd gotten a car, we would've been talking non-stop. Emma glances between us and gives another sigh before grabbing my wrist and hauling me down the hall to her bedroom. The familiar setting is comforting and I flop down on her bed, dropping the bag with her present in it on the floor next to me. She takes a seat at her desk and we sit in silence for a moment.
"So," Emma starts. "A car."
I laugh and roll over so I'm facing her. "Still hung up on the fact my parents got me car?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"Yeah, but it's still funny."
She groans, resting her chin on her hands. "Well, maybe you can cheer me up by giving me a gift." She flashes me a hopeful smile.
I push myself up from the bed and hand her the bag. She takes it, checks the tag, and begins to dig through the tissue paper I stuffed in there. "Geez, Jess. How much paper did you put in here?"
"A lot."
Emma laughs, pushing her hair away from her face. "Ah-ha!"
She pulls out a small box along with a card. As she opens the card, she tosses me a package which lands on my back. "Oof. Watch it," I grouse, burying my head in her pillow.
"Sorry," she says absent-mindedly as she scans the card. "Awww, thanks Jess. You too!"
"Whatever, just open your gift," I say, my voice muffled.
Flipping the lid of the box, she pulls out a gleaming chain with a silhouette of a dog as the charm. I found it at a stall that was set up at Union Square and immediately thought of Emma and Pip, who died last year.
"It's gorgeous," Emma says before standing up and hugging me tightly.
"Glad you think so," I respond, picking up the parcel that she had thrown had me. "Hmmm…I wonder what's in here."
"Take a wild guess," Emma deadpans, the corners of her lips twitching.
I shake it. No sound. I smell it. No clue. So I take the practical route and open the package. Out falls a backpack I've been wanting for ages but been too cheap to splurge on. I'd only mentioned it to Emma once or twice and that was ages ago. I can't believe she remembered!
"I was racking my brain for things to get you when I remember you showed me a photo a while ago-" She's cut off by me hugging her tightly.
"It's awesome."
The rest of the afternoon is spent taking full advantage of the fact neither of us are in tears or hysterics about some type of drama. Emma and I spill our guts to each other, keeping nothing back. Well, almost. I tell her about seeing Jonas again but leave out the part about the connection I felt between us. I'm not sure why, but I remember Emma's reaction to Jonas and me back when we were sophomores and don't want her to think I'm moving on too quickly (I'm not! I'm still getting over Darcy, but I could see how someone could jump to conclusions).
Finally as the sun is beginning to set, I regretfully tell Emma that I should be going. We stand, stretching as I gather my things and start towards the stairs. But as we pass Darcy's room, the door swings open.
"Jess," Darcy says, his voice rough. "Could I talk to you for a second?"
I glance at Emma but her face is expressionless. Well, that's no help. I think through the pros and cons of talking with him and carefully weigh them. I eventually come to the conclusion that I may as well humor him, after all his sister is my best friend and I don't want to put her in awkward position every time I come over to her house.
"For a minute. I should be getting home." I make my voice as emotionless as possible. I really don't want to cry in front of him.
He opens his door wider and motions me through. I step into his room and glance at Emma who is now smiling encouragingly at me. Great, she wants us to get back together, I think grimly. Darcy follows me back into his room, shuts the door, and goes over to his dresser where he plucks something from the top draw.
Darcy turns to me and clears his throat. "I just want to tell you I'm really sorry about…everything. I hope that you can eventually forgive me." He throws me a crooked smile and I feel my heart flutter slightly. "And, I have a present for you." He sees my expression and backtracks quickly. "I got it when we were still together and thought maybe you'd still like it."
He holds out a neatly wrapped package with a card taped to the top. When all I do is stare at it, he steps slightly closer. "Look, I can see why you wouldn't want to take it but please. For all the memories we have."
I look at it for another moment before extending my hand to take it. When I glance at him, he looks relieved, as if he expected me reject it. "Thanks, Darcy," I say.
"Merry Christmas," he says gently.
Opening the door, I step into the hallway where Emma is waiting. When I shut the door she hurries forward, "What did he say?" I show her the package wordlessly. She takes it and inspects it critically. "Are you going to open it?"
"Maybe, I'm not really sure." I take back the present.
She starts down the stairs and I trail after her, running my hand over the raised lettering on the wrapping paper. We stand in silence in the hall as I pull on my jacket and wind my scarf around my neck.
I pull open the door and step onto the porch. Emma puts a hand on my shoulder. "Open the package, okay? He really means it when he says he's sorry."
She shuts the door, leaving me in the cold and wondering whose side she's really on.
Author's Note: I know, another long wait but I hope it's worth it; this chapter is over 3,000 words long! Thank you so much for all your reviews, follows, and alerts. They really motivate me to write (even though it might not always seem like it). SarcasticallyMe asked if this was a Jarcy story or a Jess/Jonas story and to tell the truth I don't know. I'm just seeing where this story takes me although I'm leaning towards Jess/Jonas. If you have a really strong opinion, feel free to leave a review and I'll take any suggestions into consideration.