“I’ll be home for Christmas… You can count on me…”

 

A young man in his mid-twenties brusquely shut off the car radio before turning off the engine. As he was about to open the door and step out, he glanced behind him at the pile of cardboard boxes sitting on his backseat. Coming from a city, normally he’d be nervous about leaving stuff like that visible, but on this desolate stretch of highway where the only sight for miles was a roadside diner, he simply shrugged and got out of the car.

 

Heading into the diner, Harry quickly got a seat at the counter and placed his order. While he waited, he checked his phone, finding a missed call from an important number, his new employer, and a voicemail regarding finalizing some details. Quickly tapping his phone’s call button, Harry finds that he doesn’t have service.

 

“Dammit…” he grumbled.

 

Looking around the diner, he spotted a payphone in a corner and quickly dug into his pockets, checking for loose change. Pulling out the quarters, he counted them.

 

“Ah, just enough!”

 

Harry rushed over to the payphone and placed his call. Thankfully he wasn’t too late and his new employer answered.

 

“Hello?” he asked.

 

“Hi, it’s Harry Marston, my phone died so I had to improvise, what details do we need to finalize?”

 

“Hi Harry, I just wanted to check if you still wanted to start on the twenty-sixth. Usually we wouldn’t ask someone to completely uproot themselves over the holidays, but you seemed eager. I just want to make sure you’re not doing it to make any sort of good first impression, you’re still more than welcome to start next week if you’d like if you have any holiday plans.”

 

“It’s no problem. I don’t have any plans anyway. Hell, I’ll even come in on Christmas Day if I make it there by then.” Harry said. “I’m just about halfway there as we speak.”

 

“Given the weather lately, I don’t see that happening, but I look forward to meeting you in person. See you soon.” the owner said, hanging up the phone.

 

At that moment, Harry’s food was brought out from the kitchen and placed in front of his seat. Returning to it, Harry enjoyed the closest he figured he’d ever get to a home cooked holiday meal, the diner’s special, glazed ham with mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. As he ate, a family came in from the cold, a man, his wife and their young son, settling down at a booth across the diner from Harry, situated at the counter, which was where you sat when you didn’t have anyone to eat with.

 

“Daddy! Can I play the crane machine?” the little boy asked his father, who smiled and handed his son a few quarters.

 

The kid scampered off to the crane machine near the entrance and tried and failed several times to win a prize. After returning, crestfallen, to his parents, the boy’s spirits were uplifted as they sang along to the Christmas music on the radio while Harry, as inconspicuous as possible, continued to observe the family.

 

“Man, I wish I had a family like that…” Harry sighed.

 

As he sighed, the diner’s front door burst open, bringing a loud banging sound as the door hit the wall, but also a burst of cold air into the diner, causing everyone inside to jump! Before they all shrugged it off and one of the busboys quickly shut the door before jiggling the handle to ensure it would stay closed.

 

“Sorry, hon, did you say something?” the older waitress who’d taken Harry’s order asked from behind the counter. 

 

Harry jumped once more, not realizing how close she’d been to him. Harry wondered how long she’d been standing there while he gawked at the happy family across the diner.

 

“What?” Harry questioned.

 

“Before the door opened it sounded like you were saying something. I wish…” she started.

 

“Oh!” Harry said, blushing slightly from embarrassment at the childish wish he’d made. “I… uh, I said I wish I had more quarters.”

 

Harry held out a dollar bill and smiled weakly, hoping she’d accept his answer.

 

Lo and behold, she did, and Harry soon paid his check and left, but not before stopping at the crane machine near the front of the diner, and using both his better vantage point and adult coordination, to win the stuffed superhero toy that the boy had been trying to win in only three tries. As it dropped into the prize hatch, the little boy turned in his seat and frowned as he saw Harry pull out his coveted toy. But his expression turned to one of joy when Harry walked over and placed the toy onto the table.

 

“Merry Christmas,” Harry smiled, and the parents thanked him profusely as the boy beamed with his new toy.

 

That episode over with, Harry was back on the road, but while the weather hadn’t been too bad back home, it got progressively worse as he drove through America’s heartland. Especially when he found that the main road, which would have gotten him to his destination within a few days at max, had been closed due to the inclement weather, and Harry was forced to take back roads for several days until he got to an unaffected stretch of highway.

 

Despite the setback, Harry’s trip through the back roads had been fairly uneventful, that is until he passed through Chesterton Hills. Harry was by no means an automotive expert, but he could tell when his car wasn’t supposed to make certain noises. And as his car sputtered and groaned, he knew it was only a matter of time.

 

“No, no, nonononono!” Harry cried as the car started to stall, slowing down.

Harry quickly pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car. He remembered passing a gas station a few miles back, and various farmhouses in between, as he tried to get the engine to respond, to no avail.

 

“Of all the times for this to happen…” Harry glanced out the window, where the snow was kicking up quite a storm.

 

Harry pulled his coat on and rushed outside, popping the hood, and getting a faceful of smoke. Harry coughed as he tried to dissipate the smoke and figure out what had broken. As Harry kicked the tire in frustration, he heard a friendly Midwestern voice call out. Harry turned to see a large bearded man in a winter coat and a beanie approaching.

 

“Need any help, friend?” the large man said, carrying a toolbox, approached Harry’s car.

 

“I don’t know, my car just stalled out,” Harry replied.

“Must be the road, some people say it’s cursed,” the man said in a dire tone.

 

“Really?” Harry asked.

 

“Nah, I’m just kidding. Probably the weather, though by the looks of this car, it’s definitely seen better days.” the man chuckled.

 

“That it has.” Harry chuckled along. “It’s served me well over the years, but she’s a tad temperamental.”

 

“Aren’t they always? The name’s Bill Georgetti. Me and my family live in that house down the road there,” Bill pointed towards a farmhouse several yards away. “I was out chopping wood for the fireplace when I saw the smoke signal you were sending.”

 

“Harry.” Harry stuck his hand out. “And I really appreciate the help. I’m trying to drive cross-country, and I guess the car couldn’t take it.”

 

“Let me handle this, you go head into the house and get yourself a cup of coffee or cocoa, whichever you fancy, from the Missus, you’re not gonna be any use fixing this if you’re cold and tired.” Bill said.

 

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Harry said. “Not when you’re out here freezing.”

 

“I insist. Don’t worry, they’re expecting someone, I told them before I came over here that you’d probably be needing a cup.” Bill said intently.

 

Harry didn’t want to argue with Bill, so he shrugged and trudged over to the house. Before he made it up the steps, the door flew open and an older blonde woman immediately grabbed Harry and pulled off his hat, revealing Harry’s messy dark brown hair.

 

“Now you get in here, those are hardly the right kind of clothes to deal with this kind of snow.” the woman dragged Harry inside. “Coffee or cocoa?”

“Coffee.” Harry replied as he started to take off his gloves and unzip his coat. 

 

Harry noticed that the woman had kind eyes, but eyes that also gave off the feeling of being sad and tired, a look Harry knew quite well, having seen it in the mirror many times.

 

“And look at me, being rude and not introducing myself. I’m Polly Georgetti.” Polly said.

 

“I’m Harry. Thank you for the hospitality.”

 

“It’s the spirit of the season. Goodwill towards men and all.” Polly said. “Clara! Get the coffee!”

 

A few moments later, a young teenage girl, probably around thirteen or so, who looked just like her mother, exited the kitchen carrying a tray with a mug of coffee resting on it, along with a cup of milk and a bowl of sugar.

 

“Oh, you didn’t have to.” Harry said. “I’d have taken it black.”

 

“That’s not our way.” Polly said as the tray was put onto the dining room table.

 

Harry put his coat over his shoulder, but felt it being pulled off by a young boy, the spitting image of Bill, a few years younger than Clara.

 

“Can I hang your coat up?” the boy asked.

 

“Thanks.” Harry said, letting his coat go and sitting down at the table.

 

“Good work, Zach.” Polly said as she sat down opposite Harry. “Now, what brings you to our neck of the woods, Harry?”

 

“I’m heading cross-country for a new job, and the weather forced me down your main road.” Harry said. “Ideally I’d have been on the highway and would probably be home by now.”

 

“Sounds about right.” Polly said. “We don’t see much traffic from you city folk unless you’re forced to come round here.”

 

“I’m sure glad that my car stalled here, though.” Harry said, taking another sip of coffee. “Can’t imagine anyone else is this hospitable.”

 

“You’d be surprised.” Polly said. “Around here, we’re all like family.”

 

Bill trudged in from the snow, stomping his boots by the door to remove enough of the snow so he could walk inside. He dropped his toolbox down by the door.

 

“Sorry, Harry. But your car is too far gone for me to do anything for it. You need a mechanic, and even if the weather wasn’t bad, it’s Christmas Eve, and we take that holiday seriously here in town, so you’ll be stuck here at least a day or two. I might be able to persuade old Mr. Hatch to come out tomorrow, to check it out after church, but it’s a longshot.” Bill said. “His grandkids visit for Christmas Day, and he’ll want to spend the whole day with ‘em, I reckon.”

 

“I don’t suppose your town has an inn or a motel does it?” Harry asked.

 

“We don’t get that much tourism to justify one, unfortunately.” Bill replied.

 

“You can stay with us!” Polly exclaimed.

 

“Oh no, I couldn’t impose. I think the heat still works, so I can stay in my car.” Harry said.

 

“Wouldn’t hear of it.” Bill said, firmly. “Now you drink up. We were just about to sit down for dinner, so don’t even think about refusing. A warm meal will do you a heckuva lotta good.”

 

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Harry put his hands up in mock surrender.

 

As Polly put the final bowl onto the table, Harry’s mouth began to water at the sights before him. Perfectly browned meatloaf, mashed potatoes the same color and consistency as newly fallen snow and the greenest green beans he’d ever seen, it all looked like it belonged on the pages of a cookbook! Harry was close to snatching the nearest serving spoon, but was stopped in his tracks as Bill’s voice boomed.

 

“Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive. Through Christ our Lord. In the name of the father, amen.”

 

As Bill spoke, Harry looked around, everyone at the table had their heads down and eyes closed. Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do other than sit quietly with his hands folded.

 

“Amen!” the rest of the family said in unison, before quickly lifting their heads and opening their eyes.

 

“All right, dig in!” Polly exclaimed.

 

While it wasn’t a Christmas feast, it was the first home cooked meal that Harry had ever had, at least that he didn’t have to prepare himself. Even when he visited with the few friends he had, they always ordered in, and Harry doubted that anyone he knew could cook anything this good. The food tasted even better than it looked, if that’s possible. While the food at the diner had been fine, it was still diner food, this food was somehow… better, even if Harry couldn’t put his finger on why.

 

“This is incredible!” Harry exclaimed between bites.

 

“It’s nothing, just an old family recipe, but I’m always glad to hear a compliment.” Polly grinned.

 

“So, tell us about yourself, son.” Bill said. “You’re traveling for a new job over Christmas? Don’t you have a family to get to?”

 

Harry paused, did he really want to share his entire life’s story to these strangers? Then again, they opened their home to him, so he owes them that much.

 

“I don’t, actually. I’m an orphan, never really knew my parents.”

 

“That’s terrible!” Polly said.

 

“Does that mean you never celebrated Christmas?” Zach asked.

 

“Zach!” Polly snapped. “That’s a rude question to ask!”

 

“No, it’s fine,” Harry said. “I’m used to it, I used to get that question a lot in school when I was his age. We celebrated Christmas, but it was different, nothing like this. At the orphanage, they never had any money to buy us presents. We had what we needed, but not much more.”

 

“Don’t kids in orphanages get adopted like in the movies?” Clara asked.

 

“They put me with some foster families, but they didn’t work out. Honestly, you folks have treated me more like family than they ever did.” Harry sighed. “Sometimes it felt like they went out of their way to remind me I was just a tax break for them.”

 

“I can’t understand why people like that are allowed to foster children if they aren’t going to treat them like their own…” Polly shook her head.

 

There were some more questions about his life, and they seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say, not something Harry was used to. Usually when he talked about his rough and tumble upbringing it resulted in uncomfortable silences, but the Georgettis were engaged through the entire story, asking questions and tutting when things seemed unfair.

 

During dessert, as Clara and Zach went to the kitchen to empty their plates, Harry decided to ask a question that had been nagging him since dinner had started.

 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but your table was set before I walked inside with five place settings. Even if you knew my car was out there, you didn’t know that my problems were going to need a mechanic...” Harry asked. “Just hopeful optimism or…?”

 

Harry could sense that the atmosphere in the room had changed following his question. Both Bill and Polly looked at each other with sad eyes, before turning back to Harry.

 

“Our oldest daughter, Bailey… we lost her two years back. A car wreck. It was Christmas Eve, she was on her way back from college, the storm had delayed her for a few days and then the roads got too slick and she drove off the road… not too far from where your car broke down, actually.” Polly started to sob. “I’m sorry…”

 

We always set the table for five, but on Christmas Eve it’s even more important, the anniversary and all…” Bill said, stoically, but even he was fighting back tears.

 

“Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” Harry inwardly cursed himself for bringing down the mood. It was no wonder why he didn’t have any close friends or family, he wasn’t good at it.

 

“Not at all.” Polly said. “It’s worse to forget than it is to remember. It’s a sore subject but the fact we miss her this much is a testament to how much we love her.”

 

“It’s just a shame that it coincides with what’s usually such a happy holiday.” Bill said, reaching over to the wall to pull down a photo off the wall, showing it to Harry. “This was the Christmas before, the last holiday photo of all of us together.”

 

The photo showed the family, Bill, Polly, Bailey, Clara and Zach, who all seemed decades younger, smiling together in front of their Christmas tree. Bailey was a pretty girl, clearly having gotten her mother’s hair, but her father’s eyes, and despite not knowing her, Harry felt his heart sag, because losing family was something he knew all too well. Especially hard knowing that Bailey had a whole life ahead of her with a loving family and got snuffed out, while he didn’t even have a family. Life was unfair to both of them.

 

“I can relate. Like I explained over dinner, I never had a traditional Christmas, so while everyone else has yuletide fever, I’m left out in the cold. Never much cared for the holiday to tell you the truth…” Harry trailed off.

 

“Never cared for Christmas? Well, you’ve done it now! I won’t stand for that! We’re gonna show you the best Christmas you’ve ever had, isn’t that right, dear?” Polly smiled.

 

“That’s right,” Bill put his arm around Polly.

 

Harry smiled in return, their enthusiasm for the holiday infectious. In short order, Harry and the family were soon in the living room as Polly carried something wrapped in tissue paper delicately. She unwrapped it and held it up to her heart before holding it out to Harry.

 

“What’s this?” Harry asked as he looked at the object, a Christmas ornament in the shape of a red and green striped heart.

 

“Our favorite tradition is trimming the tree as a family. Obviously we did it weeks ago, but we haven’t had this ornament up on the tree in years, not since…” Polly trailed off and Clara and Zach looked sullen. “She always liked to put it on herself, but I don’t think she’d mind sharing that responsibility.”

 

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Harry balked. “It’s your tree, one of you should do it.”

 

“Please?” Polly asked. “We’d really like it if you did.”

 

Looking around at the faces of the family, particularly the children’s expectant faces, Harry’s heart melted, and he took the ornament sheepishly and hung it on the tree.

 

“It’s been a while, but it’s finally complete!” Bill beamed as he gave Harry a pat on the back. “The tree, that is.”

 

Clara crossed the room and turned on the radio next to the cable box, which began blaring Christmas music, which Harry found much less annoying than he had earlier in the day. Bill and Polly wandered off into the kitchen as Zach started playing with the nativity scene underneath the tree.

 

Looking at the tree, Harry couldn’t explain it, but somehow it looked even more festive than it had a moment ago, but whether that was a real tangible change from the ornament or just Harry’s perception of it, he couldn’t tell. And did the tree seem taller? That would be impossible, it must just be his imagination.

 

But he didn’t have much time for rumination, because the energy suddenly changed in the room as Bill burst through from the kitchen carrying a big red bag.

 

“Ho ho ho! You know what time it is!” Bill exclaimed.

 

“Presents!” Clara and Zach shouted in unison.

 

Harry smirked and stepped aside as Bill distributed gifts to the family. One parcel to each of them, Polly, Clara and Zach, plus one for himself. Harry was content to merely observe, but Polly handed him his own wrapped parcel. One that was starkly different from the rest, wrapped in different paper and with a thin layer of dust on top.

 

“I can’t accept this, this belongs to you…” Harry started, turning the parcel over and seeing the tag read ‘FOR BAILEY - LOVE MOM’.

 

Looking back up at Polly, she just nodded, a gesture Harry returned as he placed the parcel on his lap and watched as one by one, the rest of the family opened their gifts.

 

“Now, you know the rules, we get one present tonight, from us, and the rest in the morning from Santa.” Bill said.

 

It seemed that their gifts all had a similar theme, as everyone received a sweater with their name embroidered on the right breast. Once everyone else was finished, and wearing their sweaters, they turned expectantly to Harry to open his gift.

 

“Go ahead, hon.” Polly smiled.

 

Harry delicately unwrapped the present, acutely aware of the significance of the act and pulled out a pink sweater with some red and green accents. It also had a name on the right breast, but that name was of course ‘Bailey’.

 

“Thank you guys so much for including me,” Harry felt his voice catch in his throat.

 

“Thank you for giving us an opportunity to include you,” Polly put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Now, let’s all change!” Bill exclaimed.

 

“Change?” Harry asked. He wasn’t great at guessing sizes, but there was no way a sweater designed for a young woman would fit him, right?

 

“Yeah, we always wear our sweaters for the rest of Christmas Eve. It’s a tradition!” Clara said, in that matter-of-fact way that teens always use.

 

“Well, who am I to argue with tradition?” Harry shrugged and pulled the sweater over his head.

 

It probably shouldn’t have fit, but the sleeves managed to get farther down his arms than he expected, honestly being more surprised by how comfortable it was, the softness of the yarn on his skin quelling any concerns his brain might have raised.

 

Soon, the entire family was clad in their holiday sweaters and settling in on the couch to watch a classic Christmas movie. Harry vaguely recognized it, having seen bits and pieces before on cable, but he’d never seen the movie all the way through. This particular one was about a family in the Midwest and the trials and tribulations of the Christmas season, and it was really funny.

 

Their couch was pretty packed with just Bill, Polly and Clara on it, so Harry and Zach did the chivalrous and respectful thing and sat on the floor in front of the couch. Zach was in front of his father laying belly-down on the floor using his elbows to prop his head up so he could watch the TV. Harry instead chose to sit up, using the front of the left armrest to support his back.

 

As they watched the movie, Harry began to feel an itching sensation on the side of his face. He reached up his hand to scratch at it, but instead found a strand of hair where it shouldn’t belong. Harry had relatively short hair, didn’t he? But the movie was so engrossing that he just brushed the hair out of his face and kept watching.

 

Then it happened again.

 

And again.

 

“Ugh,” Harry groaned as he pulled his now medium length hair back behind his ears in frustration.

 

“Hey,” Clara leaned forward and whispered. “Want me to take care of that for you?”

 

Figuring that she probably had some type of hair tie he could use to get it out of his face, he graciously accepted her offer and Clara snuck off to her room to grab something.

 

When she returned, Harry had gotten engrossed in the movie once more, so she just started to brush as they watched, laughing along with the jokes on screen. What neither of them noticed was that Harry’s hair was getting longer with each passing second, and soon it was long enough that Clara knew she had enough to start putting it into a French braid, just like she’d been taught to by her older sister.

 

Clara smiled as she recalled memories of Bailey teaching her how to braid hair, and the nights they’d spent together bonding like sisters do. She tried to be a good big sister to Zach, but their relationship just wasn’t the same. She missed having her own sister to share things with. Harry wasn’t Bailey, of course, he wasn’t even a girl, but having another person in the house, it just… felt more like home than it had the last few years.

Shaking herself out of the memories, Clara realized that by pure instinct, she’d braided Harry’s hair. It was a gorgeous braid, but Clara knew that she’d done something wrong, even if she couldn’t exactly figure out why it was wrong. But it was up to Harry to say something, Clara clammed up and waited for Harry to notice.

 

But he never did, or at least, he never objected to it. Once he realized that Clara was done, Harry put a hand up to feel his hair, tracing the braid back to its end and pulling it around to observe the part he could see without a mirror. It looked nice, and it was certainly nicer than the messy strands blocking his vision.

 

“Thanks, you did a great job,” Harry turned back and whispered to Clara, who beamed at the compliment.

 

As the movie faded into another commercial break, Zach suddenly got up with a start!

 

“Oh no! We forgot to bake the cookies for Santa!” Zach whined.

 

“Well that’s okay, buddy, I think he’ll understand,” Bill tried to comfort Zach.

 

“But we have to! We do it every year!” Zach insisted. “Except for when…”

 

Zach didn’t have to finish his statement for everyone, including Harry, to know what he was about to say. For Zach, the last few years had been difficult. He didn’t spend that much time with Bailey, the age gap between them was quite sizable, but one of his favorite activities had been to help her in the kitchen when she baked.

 

“Alright, let’s get in there,” Polly started to get up from the couch.

 

Watching Polly get up, Harry was reminded that Polly had spent the entire day in the kitchen, whether it be brewing the coffee when he first got here or preparing that delicious dinner, and if he was going to accept their hospitality, he was going to pay his way, they probably wouldn’t accept money, but he knew another way to repay them.

 

“Why don’t you keep watching the movie, and I’ll help Zach with the cookies?” Harry offered.

 

Sure he’d never baked before, but how hard could it be? Plus, the kid seemed to have done it before, so maybe he’d just be adult supervision.

 

“Are you sure?” Polly asked. “I know you’re enjoying the movie…”

 

“I’m sure, you guys have been so great to me that I want to give back somehow, and letting you enjoy your Christmas Eve watching the movie feels like a very small way to start. You’ve got a recipe somewhere?” Harry responded.

 

“In the cabinet above the sink, there’s a recipe box, the cookies should be the third from the back.” Polly said.

 

“Got it,” Harry smiled.

 

Heading into the kitchen with Zach, the young boy started to gather up all of the ingredients, at least the ones on shelves he could reach, as Harry reached up to grab the box of recipes. Finding the recipe card exactly where Polly said it was, Harry began to read it.

 

“Seems easy enough, let’s get started!” Harry exclaimed.

 

The first step was preheating the oven, after which, Harry began organizing the ingredients atop the counter. As he was about to open the flour, Zach held out a bundle of fabric to him.

 

“What’s this?” Harry asked as he unfurled the bundle, which was adorned with a floral design.

 

“An apron,” Zach said, as he tied his own apron, a mostly plain light blue one, around his own waist. “Can’t get our new sweaters dirty.”

 

“Smart move,” Harry remarked, remembering the sweater. It was brand new, and it was special, no sense in ruining it.

 

Once the oven preheated, the two started to mix the batter together, taking turns pouring ingredients into the bowl. It was a basic sugar cookie batter, so it wasn’t that difficult.

 

“Hold on, we’re missing the vanilla extract,” Harry said as he read the recipe.

 

Just as Zach was about to tell him where it was, Harry suddenly moved to the cabinet and grabbed it off of a shelf, barely even looking at what he’d grabbed.

 

“Right where I left it!” Harry remarked, then made a puzzled expression. This was his first time in this kitchen, how could he have remembered that?

 

But he didn’t have any time to wonder about that, because as he crossed the room back to where the batter was, his sock got caught on a loose nail and tore.

 

“Woah!” Harry exclaimed, steadying himself. “Oh crud…”

 

“What happened?” Zach asked.

 

“My sock got caught on a nail…” Harry frowned as he knelt down to inspect the damage. “Well, that’s it for this sock…”

 

Harry quickly removed the socks and tossed them in the trash, before washing his hands and returning to work on the cookies, adding the final ingredient, red and green food coloring. He let Zach mix the batter using the hand mixer, and soon the batter was almost ready to be formed into cookies.

 

“Brrr…” Harry shivered.

 

“You’re cold?” Zach asked.

 

“My feet are.” Harry said. “The floor is freezing.”

 

“I’ve got an idea, wait here!” Zach got excited and rushed out of the room.

 

He returned a few moments later with a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. Harry didn’t have the heart to tell him that they weren’t really his style, but he didn’t want to be ungracious, so he figured he’d slip them on anyway. Besides, they matched the sweater.

 

Much like with the sweater, when he put his foot into the slipper, it fit perfectly. Harry returned to the batter, and soon started to roll the batter out and use cookie cutters to make cookies in the shape of stars, Christmas trees and ornaments. As Harry rolled the two batches of colored dough, the food coloring started to stain his fingers. It would probably wash off in the sink, although the red staining on his somewhat untrimmed fingernails seemed like it was going to be stubborn to get off.

 

Once they were in the oven, Harry decided to make some cocoa for him and Zach to celebrate a job well done, which Zach sipped while sitting up on the counter with Harry leaning next to him. Harry’s red-tipped fingers wrapped around a mug with a big ‘B’ printed on the side.

 

“Thanks for the help, Harry.” Zach smiled.

 

“Pleasure was all mine, your parents have been so kind to me, that I’m glad I can give back in some way.” Harry said.

 

“You sound like Bailey,” Zach said. “That’s why she went away to college, said she was grateful for all Mom and Dad did for her and wanted to give back by getting the best education she could. Which is why she…”

 

Zach paused, on the verge of tears, but Harry quickly embraced the boy in a hug. Harry was used to losing and he knew that a hug was what Zach needed at that moment. Zach was enveloped by warm feelings, when he closed his eyes, it almost felt like he was hugging Bailey and the family was complete again.

 

While the cookies cooled, the two returned to the living room to find that the movie was just about over.

 

“Yawn!” Polly stretched. “Well, I think it’s about time for us to hit the hay. After all, Santa won’t come until we’re asleep.”

 

“Come on, Clara! Let’s get the cookies and milk for Santa!” Zach dragged his sister into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone with Bill and Polly.

 

“This has been great, if this is what your Christmases are like, I think I can see why you like it so much.” Harry said.

 

“We try,” Bill said. “You don’t need to call anyone, not even a friend, let them know you’re here?”

 

“Nope, there’s nobody to miss me.” Harry shrugged.

 

“Well, we’ll miss you.” Polly said.

 

“I appreciate that,” Harry smiled.

 

As Christmas Eve drew to a close, the Georgetti household buzzed with the excitement of the upcoming holiday. While Bill went to the basement to get the presents from Santa, Clara and Zach had already set out the cookies and milk, their eyes shining with anticipation as they headed off to bed. Harry found himself feeling a bittersweet tug at his heart, witnessing the children's joy while remembering his own lonely Christmases. Polly seemed to recognize that and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

 

“You people are strangers. You don’t know me, why were you so nice to me? Why did you include me in your Christmas?” Harry asked, choking back tears as the emotion of the holiday started to get to him.

“Because it’s the right thing to do. When you see someone in need, you help them. We’ve tried to instill that in our kids. All of them.” Polly said.

 

“You’ve got great kids,” Harry said, glancing down at his sweater. “All three of them, I’m sorry about Bailey. I didn’t know her, but I almost feel like I do.”

 

“Can I be honest with you, Harry? This afternoon, while looking at a picture of Bailey, I made a wish that our family would be whole again. And I just want to thank you for helping that happen, even if it is just for one day.” Polly said.

 

“You’re welcome,” Harry said. “I also made a wish today, for a loving family to spend Christmas with and you made that happen for me.”

 

“Come here,” Polly grabbed Harry and pulled him into a tender, loving embrace. “I don’t know your momma, but any mother would be proud to have you as their child.”

 

“I never really knew my mother either,” Harry started to tear up again, his voice cracking.

 

“Then consider yourself one of my kids,” Polly said. “And I’m so proud of you.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry said.

 

Just then, Bill returned from the basement with a large stack of wrapped presents in his arms, which Polly quickly went over to assist with.

 

“Now that the kids are in bed, let’s take care of our part.” Polly said.

 

“What can I do to help?” Harry asked.

 

“Please, you’re a guest,” Bill replied. “We’ve got it from here.”

 

“Fine,” Harry said. “Can I get a blanket for the couch?”

 

“What for?” Polly asked.

 

“For me to sleep with, if it’s too much trouble I’ll–” Harry started, but Polly cut him off.

 

“Absolutely not! There’s a perfectly good bedroom upstairs with a warm bed in it!” Polly said. “Bailey’s room is the second left from the stairs.”

 

“Bailey’s room? But I couldn’t possibly–” Harry started.

 

“Nonsense,” Bill interjected. “You’re family now, besides, Bailey would give up the shirt off her back for someone in need. I don’t think she’ll mind you using her room for the night.”

 

Harry paused, about to object, but thought better of it and just nodded.

 

“Good night, both of you. See you tomorrow.” Harry said.

 

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” Polly said.

 

“See you in the morning!” Bill said.

 

It was a strange walk up the stairs into the empty bedroom. It felt both lived-in and yet bereft of life, kept frozen in static since the last time Bailey had been in it. If Harry believed in ghosts, he might have sensed her presence. But he didn’t, so he attributed it to his nervousness. Being in a teenage girl’s bedroom was a strange experience for the young man.

 

He didn’t quite look like a young man anymore though, over the course of the night, he’d gotten slightly shorter and his hands and feet were smaller, not that he noticed. With the longer hair, still safely tucked into that braid, plus the sweater and slippers, he almost resembled the many pictures of Bailey and her friends and family adorning the walls of the room.

 

It was a relatively standard teen girl’s bedroom, a closet filled with clothes and shoes, a vanity and a four poster bed. There was even a diary sitting on the desk, like it was put down one day, never knowing that it would never be written in again, waiting for its owner. Harry wouldn’t read it of course, that would be wrong, but it served as the most palpable reminder that this room was not only a shrine to Bailey’s memory, but also soaked in her memories, of a life cut short long before its time. In the face of that tragedy, Harry should have felt a chill, but instead, Harry felt a warmth all around him, and it wasn’t from the house’s furnace, it was from a sense of belonging. Finally belonging.

 

Suddenly tired from the day’s experiences, Harry climbed into bed and closed his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he idly scratched his chest with fingernails that were definitely longer than they’d been that morning, not that Harry noticed.

 

In his dreams, Harry found himself surrounded by memories—moments of love, laughter, and togetherness, moments he had never experienced before. It was as if he could feel Bailey's presence, her vibrant spirit infusing his very being.

 

Harry’s first memory of Christmas is being at the orphanage, being told by the caretakers that Santa wasn’t going to make it that year and the palpable disappointment he felt along with the other children. But he also remembered being terrified in a shopping mall while a woman who looked so much like Polly Georgetti but younger, tried to get him to smile for a picture.

 

Then he remembered being around the tree in his first foster home, but those were terrible people who only took him in for the tax break and stipend. His foster siblings, their real kids, got presents. Harry was only permitted to sit and watch as they enjoyed the holiday. Yet he also remembered opening presents while a man who looked like a younger Bill Georgetti took video on a camcorder.

 

One by one, the memories of his past were supplanted by new memories, ones that showed a life full of love. But in each memory, Harry’s appearance changed. At first, Harry was himself, the way he remembered being at those ages. Then his nose was different. His eyes too. His hair was longer. As the memories played, the years passed by. Childhood gave rise to adolescence and finally into adulthood.

 

Harry recalled standing alone in the corner at a winter-themed school dance, as all the couples danced. But there was also a memory of being part of one of those couples, dancing with a boy, his dress flouncing about as they moved.

 

Every miserable Christmas was replaced with a great one, Harry surrounded by the Georgettis. No, they weren’t the Georgettis, they were his family.

 

Finally there was a memory that Harry didn’t recognize, he was behind the wheel of a car, slightly nicer than his own, manicured fingers gripped around the steering wheel. Suddenly the car lurched and began to skid. Before he could even react the memory whipped away and Harry could only see darkness.

 

Harry awoke with a start, panting as he grasped around trying to ground himself. Two arms, two legs, a heart racing like he just ran a marathon. But they were all there and he was alive. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed a faint glow on the other side of the room. His vision cleared and a glowing shape slowly morphed into the form of a young woman. Harry recognized her, of course, photos of her were all over the house. She turned and smiled at Harry.

 

“You’re Bailey…” Harry muttered.

 

“Nice to meet you.” she said with an almost ethereal tone.

 

“How is this possible?”

 

“Holiday magic maybe? I’m not really sure, the last thing I remember is the crash, and then I saw you. Your life has been so hard.”

 

“And yours ended too soon. It’s unfair.”

 

“I know. You deserve a loving family and my family deserves to have their daughter back.”

 

“I could stay with them, but it’s not the same. I’m not you.”

 

“You could be.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“If you wanted to be. We can’t both exist, but we can exist together.”

 

“I don’t understand…”

 

“You will, trust me.” Bailey held out her hand. “Now come on, our family is waiting for us.”

 

“Our family…” Harry took Bailey’s hand into his as Bailey’s glow became so bright that it blinded him.

 

As the sun began to stream into the bedroom, the figure in the bed started to stir. She opened her eyes and pushed the covers off of herself, stretching and yawning as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.

 

She had a vague recollection of her dreams that night, she remembered a sad young man with no family, Harry his name was. Her name had been Harry before, she was pretty sure. Having two sets of memories floating around in her brain was confusing, but she knew that she was two people and that this was a second chance for both of them, a second chance at a rich, fulfilling life. She was Bailey Georgetti now, but she’d never forget being Harry Marston, not entirely.

 

The door began to slowly open and Zach poked his head into the room, his smile igniting when he spotted Bailey in the bed.

 

“You’re awake! Let's open presents!” Zach leaped into the bed and embraced her in a hug.

 

“Woah, calm down there, buddy! What time is it?”

 

“Morning!” Zach insisted.

 

“Maybe we should give Pol- I mean, Mama and Daddy some more time to sleep in.”

 

“But it’s Christmas!” Zach whined.

 

“Can you two keep it down?” Clara rolled her eyes as she walked into the bedroom.

 

“Now can we go downstairs?” Zach asked.

 

“Clara, take Zach to go wake up Mama and Daddy. I’ll be right behind you.

 

“If only he got up this early on school days…” Clara giggled. “Come on, Zach…”

 

As they walked out, Bailey climbed out of bed and walked over to the vanity and looked into the mirror. From her painted toes to the ends of her hair, she was Bailey Georgetti, wearing her favorite pajamas, red and black checked bottoms with a matching buttoned top.

 

“Thank you.” Bailey whispered, near tears, to no one in particular.

 

“Are you coming downstairs to open presents, sweetie?” Polly asked, poking her head into the room. “You’d better make it fast, your brother is raring to go.”

 

So only she remembered the way things used to be. That was probably for the best, Bailey thought.

 

“Be right there, Mama!” Bailey wiped her tears with her sleeve as she started to head out of her room.

 

Bailey rushed downstairs to see the hustle and bustle of a family Christmas, Clara and Bill trying to stop Zach from busting into his presents before everyone was ready, Polly with the camera ready to document everything. As she crossed the room to take her spot on the couch, she stopped a moment to turn on the radio on the mantle. It was an old radio, one her grandparents had owned, and it crackled to life and began to play a familiar tune that made Bailey smile.

 

“I’ll be home for Christmas… If only in my dreams…”

 

The future was as of yet unwritten for Bailey, but right now, the only thing that really mattered was that she was finally home.

 

The End