The Wedding Day (18 page)

"Please don't speak for me, Paul," Nicole snapped.

"I'm sensing a lot of anger from Nicole," Dr Davison continued.

"Your anger is completely understandable, but I'll need to help you work past it before we can move forward in healing your relationship."

Nicole gulped in an effort to calm herself.

"I don't want to feel angry," she said. "I thought I'd gotten past most of my anger, but clearly I haven't. I still don't understand how he could have hurt me so much."

She bit her lip and a single tear rolled down her cheek. The doctor handed her a Kleenex. Paul leaned across the sofa and pulled her into his arms, where she instantly dissolved into helpless tears. She was suddenly too exhausted and drained to put up a fight. She was tired of being brave and strong and forcing herself to get on with her life.

The last few months had been such a struggle and had taken a toll on her.

She buried her face in Paul's chest and inhaled his familiar soapy smell. It was a relief to let her tears flow. Eventually, her sobs began to subside. She took the Kleenex which Dr Davison offered her and wiped her make-up streaked face.

"I must look a right mess," she sniffed.

"You look beautiful, as always," Paul said, gently squeezing her knee.

"This will work out," Dr Davison said decisively.

"I can see that you two still love each other dearly. It will take hard work and determination to rescue your relationship and it will hurt at times, but I believe you can do it."

Neither of them knew quite what to say to the other after their session with Dr Davison. They walked in uneasy silence to the parking lot.

After much begging on Nicole's part, Evette had finally agreed to let her borrow her precious car for the day. She was grateful as she really couldn't face the thought of dealing with people on the commute into town.

"I know I've never been very good with words, Nicole," Paul began, as they arrived at their cars.

She looked up at him as he spoke. He was still quite pale and drawn even though it had been several months since they'd broken up. She could see that their separation was still taking a toll on him and she felt her heart begin to melt a little.

"I couldn't deal with what I'd done to you, to us, when you first left. The thought of my life without you was unbearable and I couldn't handle the fact that it was my fault. I found it difficult to process my thoughts and emotions and I had nobody to talk to. Everyone except your dad seemed to have turned against me, not that I can blame them. I started a journal, where I tried to make sense of everything and it's helped me to get my head together somewhat. I want you to have it."

He opened his car door and pulled a thick, hardback notebook off the front passenger seat. He gave his journal to her. She took it in silence, not knowing quite what to say.

Paul had never liked writing. She was the writer in their relationship. She'd bought him a journal a few years previously for his birthday and she was surprised to see that he'd kept it all that time.

"Will you read it?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, of course."

He walked her to her car and opened the door for her.

"Bye," she said as she clambered inside, putting her keys in the ignition.

He hesitated for a moment before saying "I love you, Nicole."

"Bye," was all she could manage to say in response, those three important words caught in her throat.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year” blasted from the stereo system in the sisters’ apartment.

"Merry Christmas, sis!" Nicole cheerfully greeted Evette as she wandered into the kitchen for her morning coffee.

"Merry Christmas to you too." Evette looked bewildered.

There were pots and pans strewn everywhere and each hob on the cooker was bubbling with one of her sister's many concoctions.

"What day is it?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.

"It's Sunday, December the first; officially the first day of Christmas." Nicole was busily stirring eggs into a huge bowl.

"You've been busy."

"I sure have. This is my favourite time of the year."

"Well, it smells wonderful in here." Evette sniffed the air appreciatively.

"I'm cooking us a special breakfast to celebrate December the first."

"Yum, I'm absolutely ravenous."

Evette's stomach growled just as she spoke and the sisters laughed at the noise.

"What are we eating?" Evette asked as she watched her sister expertly add a pinch of cinnamon and another pinch of nutmeg into her mixing bowl.

"We're having butterscotch banana waffles, served with white hot chocolate, sprinkled with a dusting of cococa powder."

"This is wonderfully cosy and delicious." Evette breathed in the Christmassy smell of cinnamon and hot chocolate.

"It's amazing how a smell can transport you right back to the past," she said. "I can close my eyes and it's like I'm back in mom's kitchen at home again. Remember how she used to cook French toast every Saturday morning?"

"Of course I remember," Nicole smiled. "The smell of cinnamon always reminds me of our childhood."

"We're lucky to have so many happy Christmas memories," Evette sighed contentedly.

Nicole nodded in agreement. She was slightly out of breath from trying to whisk her waffle mix by hand. Needless to say, Evette didn't own an electric whisk.

"Mom and Dad instilled the wonder of Christmas in my heart and I'll always be grateful to them for the memories," Nicole said. "I hope, one day, that I'll be able to pass on their traditions to my own family."

"What are your favourite memories, sis?" Evette asked, as she slowly sipped her coffee.

"One of my favourite memories is the first time I saw snow," Nicole took a break from her whisking and decided to treat herself to a hot chocolate.

"I think I was about ten years old. Every year I'd pray for a white Christmas, but it hardly ever snows in Ireland, maybe every fifty years.

I was helping mom to wrap presents in secret in the attic. You still believed in Santa and we wanted you to believe for as long as possible, so we'd sneak up to the attic when you were at your friend's house and we'd spend a few hours wrapping everyone's presents.

I loved spending that time with mom. It was like our own little secret club. I felt like one of Santa's elves.

Anyway, this particular Christmas was very cold and there'd been an Arctic wind blowing across Ireland for days. When we'd finished wrapping the presents we looked outside and the first snow flurries had started. I was completely mesmerised. It was so magical.

Mom and I ran outside and took lots of photos of the snow. It was like a winter wonderland. We had so much fun, but we didn't expect more than a few hours of light snow. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to wake up the next morning and have the entire garden covered in a thick, white blanket.

It had fallen steadily throughout the night and temperatures had plummeted even lower, so there were at least ten centimetres of snow on the ground. The branches of every tree were covered; it was breathtakingly beautiful.

I remember you and I had such fun in the garden having snowball fights and making snow angels and snow men. It was our first white Christmas and I'll never forget it." Nicole's eyes shone with the happy memory.

"Remember Dad would hide presents all over the house and we'd spend hours searching for them?" Evette said, her face lighting up. "I remember, it was so exciting never knowing where or when you'd find that last secret present."

"We used to love watching the late evening news on Christmas Eve," Nicole smiled. "They always broadcast Santa's location and as soon as we saw him and the reindeer we'd jump into bed as fast as our legs could carry us!"

"I know. It was so exciting!" Evette laughed.

"Dad would tuck us into our beds on Christmas Eve and read us the Christmas story from the Bible."

"One of my favourite memories is the Advent Calendar," Evette said. "The last Sunday in November mom would buy us Advent Calendars. We had to have one each because we otherwise we'd be fighting over who opened each window and got the chocolate. The Advent Calendar always signalled the start of the Christmas season for me."

"Secret Santa was my fondest Christmas memory from school," Nicole continued. "Our teacher would put all our names into a big Santa hat and we'd each pull out the name of the person for whom we'd buy or make a present. We could barely contain our excitement when it came time to exchange our gifts."

"I'll never forget the beautiful porcelain dolls that mom bought us one Christmas," Evette said. "They were so pretty," Nicole agreed.

"They each wore a silk dress with lace sleeves and they even had their own set of pearls and tiny diamond earrings."

"I think they were probably cubic zirconia," Evette interrupted.

"I know," Nicole looked at her sister disparagingly. "I like to pretend they were diamonds."

"Ok, sorry."

"Remember the gingerbread houses that Dad used to make every year?"

"How could I forget?"

"He used to spend many painstaking hours getting the gingerbread house just right. Nobody was allowed in the kitchen because he had to concentrate so much and needed peace and quiet."

Evette laughed at the memory.

"Mom usually took us shopping in town until he was done."

"His gingerbread houses were amazing. They looked like real, miniature versions of our home."

"When Christmas was over he'd hang them outside for the birds and the squirrels to enjoy. He hated throwing them away after all his hard work. It was a clever way of recycling them."

"We loved Christmas so much that we invented a game where we used to play Christmas in the playroom all year round. We used to cut out drawings and pretend they were ornaments and we'd wrap our old toys in newspapers to exchange gifts. How cute were we?"

"We were very cute indeed,” Evette agreed. “Anyway, what's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"We're going Christmas tree shopping with Ben. He offered to help us carry the tree."

"Oh that’s good. I haven't seen Benny in a while. It'll be great to catch up with him. What else have you got cooking and baking? I don't think my oven has ever seen so much action. There was a stage when I used to store old magazines in it, but I got tired of Ben lecturing me about it being a serious fire hazard."

"I'm cooking mince pies for later this evening and the herbs and spices for the mulled wine are infusing nicely. I've invited a few people over to help us decorate the tree. You don't mind do you?"

"I don't mind at all. The more the merrier I always say."

"I found it!" Evette yelled.

Ben and Nicole came running towards the sound of her voice.

They'd all piled into Evette's little Ford Fiesta and driven up into the mountains to a Christmas tree farm. Ben was delegated to carry the saw and do the cutting, while Nicole and Evette split up in search of the right tree.

"It's perfect!" Nicole exclaimed, clapping her hands in delight.

The tree was beautiful. It was bushy and not too tall, with a wonderful pine fragrance.

"I love it," Evette wrapped her arms around the trunk as if she was hugging it and breathed in its fresh smell.

"Ok, Ben, it's time for you to do the honours, please."

Nicole and Evette stood back while Ben began to saw.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to buy a fake tree?" he groaned.

"My ears!" Nicole clapped her hands over her ears. "A fake Christmas tree is like having a fake Christmas!"

"Get on with your sawing, Ben. We don't want to hear another sacrilegious word out of your mouth,” Evette instructed.

The farmer helped them rope and secure the tree onto the roof of the car. Then they spent the rest of the drive down the mountain making sure the tree wasn't going to slide off.

After much careful manoeuvring from the car to the elevator, they finally managed to install the tree safely in the apartment.

"I can't believe it's still in one piece," Evette said as she carefully examined the branches of the tree, which was rather precariously propped against the wall.

"I'm absolutely knackered." Ben flung himself down on the couch and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "That was the most exercise I've had all year."

Nicole turned on the stereo system and the room was suddenly blasted with carols.

"Time to get the party started! Who'd like some homemade mulled wine?"

"Yes, please," Ben and Evette chimed.

Nicole busied herself in the kitchen while the other two relaxed in the living room.

“Who's that?” Ben asked, as the doorbell buzzed.

"I'll get it," Evette jumped up to answer the door.

She was startled when she saw who was standing outside. A tall woman with shiny black hair, tied back in a sleek ponytail, stood in front of her. Her red lipstick matched the cashmere scarf that she wore over her long, black winter coat. It was Helena.

"Hi," was all Evette could manage to say.

"Hi," Helena replied, smiling weakly.

They stood there looking at each other for a prolonged moment, before Ben interrupted them.

"Who is it Ev?" he called from his comfortable seat on the couch.

"It's one of Nicole's friends."

"May I come in?" Helena asked. "I thought Nicole was staying with you. Have I got the right apartment?"

Evette shook herself. "Yes, of course, come in. Helena, this is my friend, Ben. Ben this is Helena. Would you like some mulled wine?"

"Yes, that'd be lovely, thank you."

Evette hurried into the kitchen where Nicole was busy pouring mulled wine into cups.

"You have a visitor," Evette whispered.

"Who is it?" Nicole asked distractedly.

"It's Helena." Evette paused for her sister's reaction.

"Oh, great! I was hoping she'd turn up."

"What?! I thought she was your sworn enemy after the wedding debacle."