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CHAPTER12
GISELLE
Giselle was so excited,and couldn’t wait to see Austin this evening.
His last email, his addition to their story, just absolutely melted her heart. Oh gosh, this was all so new to her and seemed so incredulous. She had accepted him as a pen pal by sheer chance… and to learn how wonderful he was? Yes, this was more than she ever imagined.
“Boo!” Austin jumped out, causing her to leap and let out a yelp, as she slapped her hand to her chest to calm her wildly beating heart.
“Oh mercy, you scared me to death!” she hissed at him in the still of the evening air – only to see his infectious smile and hear his laugh.
“Don’t be dead… because dead people don’t get Grandma’s Oatmeal Cookies,” he smiled, holding up the package. “I thought I would save this for our little fence-rendezvous. Do you like oatmeal cookies?”
“Only if they have really plump raisins,” she laughed. “A cookie should not have meager raisins.”
“I heartily agree,” he laughed, winking at her as he tore open the packet and broke the cookie in half – handing it to her. “My sweet tooth says, ‘good evening’to your sweet tooth.”
“Right back at ’cha…” she chuckled, accepting it and breathing in the rich brown sugar smell and scent of oats mixed with cinnamon. “Mmm, it smells like home.”
“Right? Well, not my home growing up – but one of the foster ones. That woman used to bake a lot, and I was there for six months. I barely remember her name anymore because I was young and, unfortunately? There were a lot of places I bounced in-between. I think her name was Dee-Dee? Or Deidre? Donna?”
“I’m sorry you went through that,” she whispered, taking a bite.
“Me too,” he admitted. “But I think it makes you stronger because you know what your life will never be like… you know? I would never touch drugs or let my kid get lost in the system. I would fight it with everything in me to make sure he had a stable place to grow up happy.”
“That’s beautiful,” she smiled tenderly. “I really like that – and I guess you are right. I know how I would want my home, my family life to be like because I loved how I grew up. We were so broke, but never knew it because there was always laughter and love… but I understand because I think a kid should have new clothes on the first day of school. It’s a matter of pride.”
“Oh hear! Hear!” he acknowledged. “I heartily agree with that. I was a garage sale nerd, meaning I was picked on because I wore stuff that was ‘new to me’ as my new clothes.”
“Same,” she agreed. “Do you have any Christmas traditions you would want to pass on? Since it’s Christmas, I thought I’d ask.”
“Now that you mention it,” he smiled, giving her a mock-innocent look of dismay. “It is Christmas, isn’t it?”
“Yes, you goofy man…” she chuckled. “When I was growing up, we had knitted booties that held empty coffee cans for our stockings. Everyone knew which stocking was theirs because of the crocheted patterns. Mine was squares with a pink ‘chained’ tie on my boot.”
“Nice…” he grinned. “Hmm. Christmas traditions? I can’t really think of any – oh wait! I know. Eggnog with cinnamon sprinkled on top. No matter where I was, someone was giving out eggnog, and that was one of my favorite things.”
“The sweet tooth?”
“You know it.”
They both stood there smiling and chewing on the cookie, hesitating for a moment just as Giselle broke the silence between them.
“Can I tell you something without it being weird?”
“Of course. You can tell me anything.”
“I doubt that,” she said wryly and heard his laugh. “But I really truly enjoy these moments and look forward to them every single day. I had no idea how happy exchanging emails would make me, nor how much I would come to treasure our friendship… and I think this is the best present I could have ever gotten this year.”
He stood there quietly, just looking at her, and she felt nervous.
“This is the part where you make a corny joke to break the silence or tell me I’m being weird,” she ordered nervously, feeling like maybe she said too much, or he was taking it the wrong way.
“I think that was a beautiful way to phrase the jumble that is in my head, because I feel the exact same way,” he mumbled. “I think another tradition should be oatmeal cookies under the moonlight before Santa arrives.”
Giselle looked up at the stars and smiled. It was beautiful here and the night sky was so clear, so unpolluted by light from the cities, that you could see the nebulas making it look like dust around the brightest stars.
“When I was a girl, I believed in Santa for so long…” she whispered softly. “I used to put oats with glitter in the front lawn, pretending to feed the reindeers because I was determined they would come to my home first,” she laughed silently. “I think I was nine or ten when I found out my parents were our Santa and cried all night long on Christmas Eve.”
