“Dad, you know I put your stuff under the tree weeks ago,” Molly replied with a grin. She walked over to her father, pulling him in for a hug as well. “You’re always trying to trick me into getting you guys more presents.”
“And one of these days, you’re going to fall for it. Hook, line and sinker,” he said with a laugh. “I hope you still like sausage, hash-browns and Christmas waffles. Your mother emptied out an entire can of whipped cream over the stack of waffles this year.”
“Sounds perfect,” Molly said. She turned to smile back at her mother who was still standing near the door. “Thanks, mom.”
“Anything for you, my Molly.” Mrs. Carmichael closed the front door and headed off to the kitchen. “Go sit with your father in the living room while I check if the hash-browns are cooked all the way through.”
Molly liked the feeling of tradition. Already, she could feel her heart mending. Tradition kept her grounded. It brought her joy, and today, that's exactly what she needed.
She headed to the living room, ready to continue with opening presents and then gorging on food. Her father stopped her, grabbing at her wrist.
“Whoa.” Mr. Carmichael whistled. He then bent to get a closer look at the watch on Molly’s wrist. She tried not to squirm away. “Where’d you get this? I’ve only seen these kind of watches locked up behind display cases.”
“It was Secret Santa... I...” Molly fumbled as she tried to force the lie to come out of her mouth. But she sighed with a heavy heart, when she realized that she could never lie to her father, not even if she wanted to. “It’s from Nicholas. He gave it to me before he left.”
“Is this what the kids are doing now? Instead of giving you his picture in a locket he gives you a watch that costs more than this house?” Mr. Carmichael teased, as he let go of Molly’s hand. “And when did you two get so close, anyway? Or is he just a really generous kind of guy?”
“We, um, worked together. A lot,” she said noncommittally. “Pretty much every day when he was here.”
“I see.” Mr. Carmichael took a step closer to his daughter. “So, you hung out. And he gave you his watch. Did you kiss him?”
“Dad!”
“I’m allowed to ask questions!” Mr. Carmichael threw up his arms in a huff. “Although, all that really matters is if he kissed you first.”
“Yes. He kissed me. I kissed him. Do you want more sordid details or can we please skip the rest of this conversation?” Molly was having painful flashbacks to the awkwardness of her middle school years when her dad would ask her if she liked any boys in her classes.
“Do you like him?” he asked her.
Molly gave her father a hurried nod, trying to speed through the conversation as fast as possible. She knew he wouldn't stop until he had the answers he wanted. It was better just to get it all out now.
Her father responded with a grin. “That’s good. It’s good that you like him, because he’s obviously in love with you.”
“No, he's not,” Molly assured him. He wouldn't have kept the sale a secret if he was, she thought to herself.
“Nicholas Kerstman is obviously in love with you. Do I really need to expand on that?” Mr. Carmichael gave the watch on Molly’s wrist another glance. “I only met the boy for what felt like ten minutes, but whenever he was talking to anybody else, whether it was me, your mother, or his own parents, he would look at that watch every five seconds.”
“So?” Molly shrugged. “He's a busy guy.”
Mr. Carmichael’s smile then grew even wider. “Except when he spoke to you, Molly. I never saw him check the time when he was talking with you. Like suddenly, it didn’t matter what time it was or how much of his time you happened to eat up, as long as he got to listen to what you had to say.”
“Dad...” Molly sighed, wishing she had the guts to tell him that Nicholas had broken her heart when he gave her the watch. That this wasn't the happy story he seemed to think it was. “He never said he loved me.”
“He didn’t have to say the L word. You’re wearing it on your wrist, aren’t you?” Mr. Carmichael said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Now, let’s go sit down, yeah? I’d like to check out one of those Christmas parades on TV since your mom and I missed the local one.”
Mr. Carmichael patted Molly's shoulder before he found his seat in the living room.
Molly followed right behind her father, her fingers playing with the watch on her wrist.
* * *
Christmas breakfast in the Carmichael household had been business as usual, with Molly feeling too stuffed from the endless amount of sausage and hash-browns to even get through one complete waffle. Her father had offered to finish off her Christmas waffles for her, and Molly had handed him her plate.
Tradition felt good.
Opening presents around the tree had also been a normal affair. Her mother made sure that Christmas classics were playing through the home’s Bluetooth speakers. As they continued with their gift exchange, there was also the distinct scent of cinnamon in the air, with Ms. Carmichael lighting scented candles and placing them all around the living room.
Mr. Carmichael was the first to open his present from Molly, shaking the box for emphasis, even though Molly knew that her dad already knew what was inside. He still did his best impression of surprise when he’d found the official donation form in the box letting him know that Molly had renewed her recurrent donation to her father’s favorite charity. He’d always been so uncomfortable with proper gifts and Molly had discovered years ago that her father’s enjoyment of the holiday came from giving to others, even if that meant he didn’t receive anything, himself.