As December rolled closer to Christmas, the house started to get festive. Mara brought down boxes from the attic filled with decorations that told tales of Christmases from way back and family traditions that had been going on for ages. Even Grey got into the spirit a bit, despite his mixed feelings about the holiday. It's like Emma's excitement was just too much to resist.
One morning at breakfast, Emma announced that they totally needed a tree. It was like a super-important mission that couldn't wait.
"We'll grab one," Mara said, sounding like it was no biggie. "Probably this weekend, if the weather plays nice."
"Can Cousin Grey come along?" Emma asked, looking hopeful.
Grey was caught off guard but played along. "If your mom's cool with it," he said, glancing at Mara.
Mara agreed, but Grey could tell she was a little unsure. He was still trying to figure out where he fit into their little family dynamic—kind of like a friendly neighbor who pops by to help, but not quite part of the furniture yet.
The tree hunt went down on a chilly Saturday. Mara took them to a farm where you could pick your own tree, which was about a twenty-minute drive. Emma took her job as tree picker very seriously. She checked out every single tree like she was looking for the perfect diamond or something.
"Too tall," she'd say, or "It's too skinny," or "Not enough branches for all the ornaments."
Mara and Grey followed her, trying not to laugh at her seriousness. They'd look at each other and smile because it was just so cute how much it mattered to her.
After a while, Emma found the perfect tree, a Douglas fir that was just right. Grey ended up being the one to cut it down, which brought back memories of his own family Christmases—his dad grumbling but smiling as he wrestled with the tree, his mom giving advice about which side to face the room. It used to be a sad reminder of what he'd lost, but now it was just a nice memory from another time.
Back at the house, they spent the whole afternoon decking out the tree with all sorts of ornaments that Mara's family had collected over the years. Some were these handmade ones that Emma had made, which were pretty much as good at staying on the tree as a toddler's first art projects. Then there were these fancy glass ones that had belonged to Mara's grandma, all wrapped up in tissue like they were made of gold. And there were these old-school wooden ones that looked like they were carved by hand.
Mara showed Grey a little wooden angel and said her dad made it. She talked about how her dad was all about doing stuff yourself, not buying fancy decorations from the store.
As they decorated, Grey couldn't help but think about family traditions and how important they are. He watched Emma and knew she'd remember this Christmas—how her cousin came home from the war and helped them, how her mom let her stay up late to set up the nativity scene, and how everything felt new but still familiar.
Then Dr. Ortiz, the therapist, showed up while they were still decorating. She found Grey up on a stepladder trying to get the star on the tree with Emma bossing him around from below.
"Looks like you're getting into the Christmas spirit," she said, watching them with a smile.
Grey talked to her about how he felt about the holiday. He admitted it was different from what he expected. Last year he was in a hospital in Germany, not even thinking about celebrating.
"What do you want to get Emma?" she asked.
That's when Grey had this lightbulb moment. He wanted to carve her something, like Mara's dad used to do. So after Emma went to bed, he got to work on a little wooden horse. She was obsessed with the horses next door and would spend ages just watching them eat grass. He figured she'd love it.
It was like therapy for Grey, whittling away at the wood. It helped him relax and get his mind off things. It was a simple project, but it made him feel like he was contributing.
Life wasn't what he'd dreamed of back when he signed up for the military. But it was his life now, and maybe that's all that mattered.