Free Cornucopia by Melanie Jackson

in my seat to address my mother.
    “You know perfectly well why we’re doing this, Ms. Chloe Boston,” my mother replied. I always knew that I was in trouble when she used my full name. “We’re Albert’s family and this is what family does when one of its members is in trouble.”
    “And what trouble is Uncle Albert in exactly? He seems perfectly happy working and keeping the holiday in his own way.”
    “But he doesn’t keep the holiday, that’s the point. So, we’re showing up on his doorstep for Christmas to save his immortal soul before it’s too late. You should view it as your good deed for the season. Don’t you agree, Henry?”
    “Don’t get me involved,” my father replied, “I’m just along for the ride.”
    I spun back around in my seat and rolled my eyes at Alex. He smiled back at me goodheartedly.
    “Well, all I have to say is that I’m not going to let Uncle Albert ruin my Christmas. I’m going to have a jolly holiday with or without him,” I concluded.
    We rode the rest of the way to my uncle’s home in silence. At least the scenery was pretty along the way. The first snow of the season lay heavy on the ground and the drifts beside the road grew larger the higher we climbed into the mountains. The sky was clear blue and the tall pines a verdant green. I breathed a sigh of contentment as I leaned my forehead against the glass of the window and watched the Christmassy landscape pass by.
    I felt the joy drain from my life as we pulled up in front of Uncle Albert’s home. The place was small but had been cozy and warm while Carol lived in it. Now it only looked old and in need of repairs and a new coat of paint. We climbed out of the car and gathered our Christmas gifts from the trunk, such as they were. I’d brought a Christmas wreath and had baked some pies for Christmas dinner which Uncle Albert had been ordered to prepare. My mother had brought a mystery gift in an old beat-up cardboard box. She refused to reveal the contents of the box and so far my attempts at detecting its contents had proven futile.
    Uncle Albert did not come to greet us. I shared Merry Christmas wishes with a group of kids who were playing in the next-door yard. They stopped playing and watched in solemn wonderment as we walked to the front door of my uncle’s home. It felt almost as if they were watching a funeral procession pass.
    Uncle Albert opened the door after we knocked a second time.
    “Oh, it’s you,” was his greeting. “I suppose you should come in.”
    Uncle Albert stepped outside to make room for us to pass through his door with our burdens. He made no attempt to help. My mother gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek as she passed. My father shifted the cardboard box he was carrying and shook Albert’s hand though I knew he was sure that Albert had never liked him. I introduced Alex who was carrying the pies and the two nodded their heads to one another. Albert noticed the kids playing out front when he was about to follow us inside and close the door.
    “You children git now!” he hollered.
    The children, who had continued to watch us in wonder, scattered like the four winds. I had the sense that this wasn’t the first time my uncle had had words for them. Uncle Albert then followed us inside where we all stood in the living room wondering what to do. There were no Christmas decorations in sight, definitely no tree, and the house was cold.
    “Go ahead and unburden yourself and have a seat,” Uncle Albert said.
    “Here, Uncle Albert, I brought you a wreath,” I said, extending the Christmas wreath to him.
    My uncle refused to accept the gift. In fact, he looked like he thought the thing was made of poison ivy.
    “What am I supposed to do with that?” he asked.
    “Hang it on your door, silly,” I replied. “Here, I even brought you a door hanger.”
    Still my uncle refused to accept the gift.
    “I know, I’ll hang it for you,” I suggested to break the uncomfortable