Under The Christmas Tree Robyn Carr Novels & Stories

Sable Christmas Eve settled over the clubhouse louder than any holiday had a right to. Someone had dragged in a cedar that looked like it had been bullied out of the desert and forced into seasonal participation, and now it stood in the corner of the common room sagging beneath mismatched ornaments, colored lights, and enough tinsel to qualify as a fire hazard. Bryce had declared the crooked angel on top “punk rock,” which earned him a threat from Hannah involving a serving spoon and his kneecaps. Charlie laughed so hard she nearly dropped a tray of cookies, and half the men in the room pretended they weren’t enjoying the whole thing as much as they were.

I stand alone on the icy field, turning back every few minutes to look at the road behind me. When my hands grow numb from the cold, I scroll my social media feed and see a recent post from my younger sister, Giada Soave. Holding gifts in her arms, she sits beneath a luxurious crystal Christmas tree with my parents embracing her from both sides. Ivano stands behind her with his hand resting lightly at her waist and his eyes full of tenderness. The caption reads, "Merry Christmas, I'm grateful to spend the holiday with those who love me most!" The comments section buzzes with blessings, praise, and envious messages.

Jennifer chuckled and retorted mockingly, "CEO? Do you really think she became CEO through her own abilities? Without Jeremiah and me backing her up, she's just a useless loser." Charles looked at Jennifer in disbelief. His eyes were filled with shock and anger. Annoyed by the noise, I told the bodyguards to drag the two of them farther away. I crouched alone by the seaside. The winter wind blowing from the ocean was icy and piercing. Little by little, I scattered Noelle's ashes into the sea. I said softly, "Today is Christmas, Noelle. It's also the day you were born. I'm letting you return to the ocean."

Your man’s going to spank your ass later,’ he said in his mind before following them. Demie, on the other hand, was still clinging to Aly's arm as they entered the inside of the venue. Christmas decors on every corner, a large Christmas tree was settled on the side with its bright chirstmas lights and a gold star on the top. And with the christmas song played, people smiling at each other, Demie can really feel the spirit of Christmas. Someone meets them, a man who Demie thinks is the same age as Sandro. "Auntie, Merry Christmas," he greeted the woman and kissed her on the cheek.

Tradition felt good. Opening presents around the tree had also been a normal affair. Her mother made sure that Christmas classics were playing through the home’s Bluetooth speakers. As they continued with their gift exchange, there was also the distinct scent of cinnamon in the air, with Ms. Carmichael lighting scented candles and placing them all around the living room.

Occasionally they’d also travel during spring break adding a third visit in the year. Quinn wanted to sit in this peacefulness for as long as possible. He looked around at everyone. They were all talking and laughing comfortably. There was a fire in the fireplace, and a large Christmas tree in the corner the owners had set up. Christmas lights speckled the cabin his family had rented .. inside and out. They glistened beautifully off the snow. Quinn had no idea what he was even thinking…. Glistened? Off the snow?? Who even was he right now …..

“What do you think?” I ran my hand along the rough bark and smiled. “It’s perfect. Storm picked it.” As the sun dipped behind the ridge, the saw bit into the trunk, the smell of fresh pine filling the air. It felt like more than a tree — it felt like a promise. By the time we loaded them all on the roof of the Hummer, Storm was asleep, the faintest smile on his lips. I tucked the blanket around him and whispered softly, “Your first Christmas, little Storm. It’s going to be beautiful.” Jenna leaned in to kiss him while the men loaded her trees onto her truck.

A lady wearing a dark woolen cloak with flaming red hair asked, “What would you say to the creator?” I wipe my tears of laughter as I look her in the eyes. She is very pale, with gothic makeup and soulful eyes. I sense that I can be honest with her. “Well, first,it's brilliant. It reflects the dark side of this holiday. It shows the enslavement of reindeer, the oppression of elves and the self-serving nature of one man who takes all of the credit. Also, I'm glad there isn't a cross or a baby Jesus in sight.”

I learned to be thankful and quiet. That acceptance made me hate Christmas. Love songs made my skin crawl. The lights under our tree looked like glass eyes. The ribbons on the presents were traps. Every year, the house tuned itself to cheer and I pretended to enjoy it. The twenty-fifth became the night when a new kind of cold touched my bones. It was the day the truth had crawled out at me like an animal. It was the day I had learned how much of my life had been decided by other hands.

He’d asked her to help with the tree, and she would find a way to push her own grown up problems aside and give him an afternoon of tree decorating to remember. Once they got started, it was easier to push the awkwardness of both her conversation with Michael and the relaying of the information to Reid aside and concentrate on having fun. Michael requested Christmas music, and even though Reid was hesitant at first, somehow picking up on Melody’s preferences, she insisted that he turn some on so that Michael could decorate his tree with full effect. So Reid had found a kids’ Christmas station on Pandora and refrains of “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” filled the room