Page 43 of Christmas at Wolf Creek
Lana and Wren attempt to navigate together, holding hands for stability—a strategy that works surprisingly well until they reach a small mogul that sends them in opposite directions. Wren recovers with an elegant spin that looks intentional (it wasn’t). At the same time, Lana sits down abruptly and slides the rest of the way onto her bottom, declaring it “the most dignified option available.”
Rory and Connor, determined to maintain some semblance of MacGallan dignity, take a more methodical approach, making careful turns that would be impressive if not for Connor’s ski poles flailing wildly every few feet like an air traffic controller having a seizure.
By the time everyone reaches the bottom—through methods orthodox and otherwise—we’re all breathless with exertion and laughter.
“That,” Declan announces, brushing snow from his immaculate jacket, “was excellent family bonding.”
“I think I have snow in places snow should never be,” Kat complains, but she’s grinning from ear to ear. “Let’s do it again!”
Nora bounces excitedly beside Kane, her cheeks flushed with cold and excitement. “Can we, Mom? One more time?”
I look at my family—disheveled, snow-covered, and ridiculously happy—and feel something tight in my chest loosen. For this moment, at least, there are no shadows from the past, no threats lurking—just joy and laughter on a perfect Christmas Eve.
“One more time,” I agree. “But maybe let’s take a hot chocolate break first.”
As we trudge toward the lodge, skis slung over our shoulders, I find myself walking beside Declan.
“Thank you for this,” I say quietly. “It’s exactly what Nora needed. What we all needed.”
He smiles, a rare unguarded expression. “Merry Christmas, Ella. First of many, I hope.”
“First of many,” I echo, watching Nora skip ahead, already recounting her skiing adventures to anyone who will listen.
Chapter 20
Ella
Iwake to the sound of whispers outside the bedroom door, followed by a muffled giggle that can only be Nora’s. The soft pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains tells me it’s still early, that magical in-between hour of Christmas morning when the world feels suspended in possibility.
“Shhh,” I hear Kat stage-whisper. “We have to be quiet, or we’ll wake her up.”
“I think that’s the point of Christmas morning,” Kane rumbles, his deep voice carrying easily through the door. “To wakepeople up at ungodly hours.”
I smile into my pillow, listening to their failed attempts at stealth. After our ski adventure yesterday, we returned to the lodge exhausted but happy, everyone collapsing into bed early after hanging our stockings and leaving cookies for Santa. Nora had barely managed to brush her teeth before falling asleep, ski-flushed cheeks pressed against her pillow, still chattering about her “epic run” down the mountain.
The door creaks open, and I feign sleep, keeping my breathing deep and even. Tiny footsteps patter across the floor, and I feel the mattress dip as Nora climbs up.
“Mom,” she whispers directly into my ear. “Mom, wake up. It’s Christmas!”
I roll over slowly, blinking as if waking. “Mmm? What time is it?”
“It’s Christmas time!” Nora announces, bouncing slightly. Behind her, I see the rest of the family crowded in the doorway, all in pajamas, Kat wearing a ridiculous Santa hat complete with blinking lights.
“Merry Christmas, sleepyhead,” Declan says, raising a steaming mug in salute. “Coffee’s ready when you are.”
I sit up, pulling Nora into a hug. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Did Santa come?”
Her eyes widen. “YES! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And the stockings are all full, even Scout’s! And someone ate the cookies and drank themilk, and the reindeer food is gone from the porch!”
“Well, that sounds like pretty conclusive evidence,” I say seriously, reaching for my robe. “We’d better go investigate.”
Nora practically drags me from the bed, her excitement physically impossible to contain. The others part to let us through, each offering Christmas greetings as we pass. The hallway is lined with lit garland, casting a warm glow over everything.
When we reach the top of the stairs, I gasp along with Nora. The great room below has been transformed overnight. Twinkling lights reflect off the ornaments on the tree, but now there’s a sea of wrapped presents surrounding its base, spilling outward in a colorful tide. The fireplace crackles with a fresh blaze, the stockings bulging with mysterious shapes. Even the banister has been wrapped in fresh garland with red velvet bows that definitely weren’t there when we went to bed.
“When did you all do this?” I whisper to Kane, who’s appeared at my side.
He shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “Christmas magic. Also, Declan barely sleeps, and Kat has the energy of a caffeinated squirrel.”