Page 9 of A Siren Song for Christmas

Michael leaned in close, gaze fixed on the pictures.

Trent wondered if Michael had any memories of his mother. After all, he’d only been a couple of years old when she died. He’d have been much younger than Trent, who had been five when he lost his own parents fourteen years ago.

Trent’s memories of his parents were sparse. Mainly fragments of faces, voices, and scents. He didn’t have any clear memories or stories of things they’d said or done. Sometimes he thought he did. But other times he thought that maybe he had just heard his older siblings’ recollections so many times that he had adopted them as his own.

When their parents died, Ordelia and Cas had been the ones who’d taken over the main care of the youngest kids. Ordelia and Cas would have been both about thirteen years old, practically children themselves.

To help with the family finances, Jack and Grady, the oldest siblings, had gotten extra jobs where they worked after the bakery closed. They’d always seemed on the verge of collapse.

And whilst Trent didn’t have strong memories of his parents, he did have memories of the aftermath of their death. Especially the tears, strained conversations, and so much pain that it seemed to throb in the air of the house.

A low hum started in the other room as Ordelia began to sing,

“The moon shines so bright.

The snow falls all night.

Sleep this Christmas night,

whilst you’re bundled up tight.”

Trent’s chest tightened. He stopped reading as the familiar Christmas lullaby washed over him.

And suddenly he was just a confused little boy being held in Ordelia’s arms as she rocked him back and forth. She’d sung this exact song all those years ago. But back then her voice had trembled and shaken with grief. Wetness had marked her cheeks and throat and dripped onto Trent’s hair.

He’d not understood her sorrow. After all, Trent hadn’t really understood death. But he’d felt her pain, and it burrowed beneath his skin.

As Ordelia kept singing, a hard lump coalesced in his chest. Sometimes Trent felt that he had been formed amongst his older siblings’ grief.

They had all gone through so much, suffered so much, and done so much for him. Even Briar, Jasper, and Leo, who’d been so young at the time, started working in the bakery almostimmediately after their parents died. They’d had to stand on boxes to reach the counter.

When Trent thought of what all his siblings had done for him, he became overwhelmed with gratitude. And guilt. Because he could never repay them.

For years, he’d been too young to work. But he could be quiet and stay out of the way. That was how he could help his siblings. Never be a bother. Never complain. Never show when you were in pain or felt alone.

“Uncle Trent! You’ve stopped reading!” Michael whined.

Trent smiled. “You’re right. Where were we? The little faun had to be very brave.”

Now that Trent was old enough, he always fulfilled his responsibilities. He turned up early for his shifts in the bakery. He covered shifts when needed. He went to the Aquatic Horticultural Emporium to pick up Jasper’s medicine daily. He helped Ordelia with her kids most days.

He never needed to be asked to help. He just did.

For a while, he’d practically lived at Ordelia’s. He’d stayed to be an extra set of hands. He’d slept in the living room. But as Michael and Ruthie grew, he could sense that they didn’t have the space for him. So he’d stopped staying over, and now he just came to help out. Then he returned to the family apartment to be out of the way.

“The end,” Trent read.

“Again!” Michael yelled.

So with a smile, Trent began again, “There once was a little fawn who set off through the snow in search of a big, awesome, magical Christmas adventure.”

And when they finished, Michael asked for it to be read again. So Trent did.

After a while, Ordelia came out. She sighed and sat beside them. And when Trent finished the book, Ordelia said toMichael, “Well, I think it’s bedtime for you now.” She placed her hand on his hair and ruffled it.

“Just one more?” Michael begged, eyes wide and pleading.

She shook her head. “Uncle Trent has been reading for a while now. I think it’s bedtime.” She scooped him up. “Say thank you and goodnight.”