Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" yuletide "
✤ ✾ ✤
. . . DECEMBER, 1975
FROST COATED the fence rows in the early light of dawn. The small farm was already wide awake to greet the new day. Chickens fluttered across the lawn in clusters of brown, yellow, and white. The sheep too were already spread out past their pen, grazing in the frozen grass of the field.
Maeve stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled sharply once. Their farm dog, Tory, immediately perked up and launched himself down the hill to round up the sheep. He wasn't very good at his job and occasionally the sheep began herding him. Today, however, he chased the sheep right into their pen and Maeve locked up the gate.
She and Sorcha had split up their chores so that they were on opposite ends of their property at all times. It was all well and good with Maeve, anyway. Sorcha loved to take care of their two horses, and Maeve was still wary of them after she had been thrown off once while riding as a little girl. This morning, though, Sorcha had decided to sleep in, so it was only Maeve left to walk the yard and feed the chickens.
When they arrived at King's Cross Station yesterday afternoon, it had been nothing but awkward. Their parents were glad to see all three of them, as they normally were, but the tension between Sorcha and Maeve was too sharp to ignore.Christmas was still Maeve's favorite time of the year, no matter how much it angered her to have to spend the holidays at home with Sorcha.
Everywhere she looked, there was a festive air to the world. Their dad had strung up colored lights on the edge of the roof, and garlands of pine and holly decorated the fence at the front of their property. Though there was no snow, the frost gave the hills the look of being dusted in powdered sugar.
The door to the house slammed shut and her dad emerged. He held an axe over one shoulder and was bundled in a scarf with the Wicklow GAA crest. Tory barked and ran right up to him.
"Keen to go with me and get the tree?" he called, smiling at her as he scratched Tory behind the ears. Her dad always waited until she was home from school to go and chop down their Christmas tree. It was one of her favorite traditions.
It wasn't a long drive to reach the Christmas tree farm. They drove past Declan's pub on the way there, as well as the old stone church. Once the village faded the roads turned back to dirt. Maeve stared out the foggy window and leaned her head against the cold glass. Tory sat between them in the middle seat, panting with anticipation as they drove.
