She played through all our favorite songs, in front of the big tree and the fireplace, and once her fingertips left the keys, the silence became insufferable. It was like all the energy and the joy disappeared, because whenever Daisy played the piano, it usually meant the night was over, that midnight had arrived and it was time for bed.
But nobody moved.
Dad stared at her, his smile gone, his arm draped over my mother’s thigh. “Sweetheart, play it.”
Sicily’s eyebrows furrowed.
Daisy tilted her head back. “Dad, it’s slow and boring—”
“Please,” he said quietly, giving her that look like she was his pride and joy, his entire world. “I love to hear you sing it.”
Daisy dropped her head back toward the keys and stared for a moment, suddenly self-conscious, her natural smile gone, her spunk sheathed in her holster. With her chin dipped down, some of her long hair slipped forward and down her chest. She absentmindedly tucked it back.
Dad was still, unblinking, just staring, waiting, his dark eyes reflecting the gold lights from the tree, highlighting his heart and soul underneath his tough shell. He gently rubbed my mom’s thigh, waiting for his daughter to give him his favorite Christmas gift.
She inhaled a final breath before her fingers hit the keys, filling the room with music once more. Her beautiful voice hit every note of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” perfectly, performing the song better than Frank Sinatra, Judy Garland, and every other person who ever tried. With her eyes down, she just focused on the song, knowing everyone was staring at her with a different look than before.
Dad watched her, his eyes slightly wet as he listened to her play his favorite Christmas song.
Sicily couldn’t hide the surprise on her face, that Daisy couldn’t just sing well, but could sing better than all the greats.
Everyone was entranced, including me, enjoying the magical moment we all secretly looked forward to every year, the moment Daisy gave us all a special gift, a memory that would be in our hearts for as long as we lived.
Daisy was the most confident person I knew, but whenever she played this song with all eyes on her, she turned into a shy girl, feeling the burden of everyone’s expectations, forced to be serious rather than her teasing self. She couldn’t brush off her talents by singing along with everyone else. She was forced to take the stage on her own, to let every set of eyes glue to her face, to give our father the one thing he wanted.
To watch his little girl sing.
Every year, she seemed to get better, her voice stronger, syncing with the music like she was the one who originally wrote it.
Dad looked at her with his heart on his sleeve, a film in his eyes, staring at her like he couldn’t believe she was his daughter. Dad said he didn’t have a favorite, and maybe he actually believed that, but it was untrue.
It was Daisy.
Derek and I were fine with it. She was our favorite too.
She finished the song, the final sound of the keys fading away, the spirit of Christmas still in the room, the white snow falling outside, the living room full of the smell of warm pie, hot cocoa, and sugar cookies. She kept her eyes down, like she was too embarrassed to look up, and cleared her throat gently.
Mom preemptively moved off Dad’s lap so he could leave the chair and join her at the bench. He sat down beside her, like none of us were there watching. His arm moved around her shoulders, and he brought her in close so he could kiss her temple. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”
She moved her head to his shoulder, her hair falling forward, her eyes still down. “Merry Christmas, Daddy.”
After Sicily said goodnight to everyone, we walked out the front door and headed to the Range Rover.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, it’s cold.” She tightened her jacket around herself and practically ran to the car.
I hit the button on the clicker so the engine would start and warm up the interior.
“Oh, you’re my hero.”
I chuckled, and we both got inside, working the defroster so the windows would lose their fog and improve visibility. I hit the seat warmer for her then entered her address into the GPS.
“Damn, I didn’t realize the time.” It was almost two in the morning according to the display.
She relaxed into the leather seat, her head turned my way with a sleepy look in her eyes. “Time flies when you’re having fun…” All the lights from the dashboard brought a brightness to her face, a beautiful glow that somehow made her eyes stand out more.
“I’m glad you had a good time.” I waited for the windows to thaw so I could get on the road and take her home, but it was taking a while, especially since it’d been snowing all night, the white powder on top of the hood.