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“Where?”
“The liquor store and a pub downtown are both hiring.”
“You want us to work opposite each other again, like in Portland?”
“I don’t want us to, but we need more money to pay our bills. At least if I work opposite you we won’t have to put Morgen in daycare. One of us will always be home with her.”
“But you and I’ll never see each other. Remember how hard it was to work opposite each other? We became strangers.”
He stops stacking wood then and softens his tone. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but the radio station doesn’t pay enough to cover our expenses. We need more wood, and you want to do all this baking. And Christmas is coming up.”
He goes inside and puts on his Dockers, then heads out to the library to print his résumés and drop them off. Later that week, he gets a call from the liquor store for an interview. I take a lunch break to watch Morgen while he interviews, and on the following Monday he’s offered the job.
“I start training on Wednesday,” he says.
“Does it offer medical insurance?”
“No. And I already know I have to work Christmas. They told me that off the bat, like a condition of hire.”
“The liquor store’s open on Christmas?
“No, but Christmas Eve and the morning after, and I’ll work them both. I’m at the bottom of the ladder.”
“So no going up to International Falls or Fort Frances to see family,” I note.
“I won’t mind having a quiet Christmas, anyway. The three of us in our cabin. It’ll be nice. Besides,” he adds, “I don’t ever want to leave the area, remember? Everything I need is right here.”
I slap his arm playfully. “Get out. You can’t never leave!”
“Why not?”
We laugh and turn our attention to Morgen. We play hide-and-go-seek in our tiny cabin, which has about five places to hide, then we make dinner and color together as the day comes to an end.
That night, when Morgen’s in bed, Scott goes over our finances. “My paychecks will be for the extras,” he says. “The first one will be for Christmas presents, and the second will be for wood. Then we can start talking about gardening stuff. You want to garden, right?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“Well, it’s going to be tight,” he says. “Even with my extra income, we won’t have much left over after bills. Everything’s just really expensive.”
“If we grow our own food, that’ll save us money on groceries.”
“Yeah, it’ll pay off in the long run. It’s just the short term I’m worried about.”
“We’re doing the best we can,” I say. I don't know what else we can do. It’s not like we have any extravagant spending habits that we can cut back on. Everything’s already bare bones.
Christmas
Morgen and I are making a pound of homemade fudge for everyone on our Christmas list. I get the recipe from my Laura Secord cookbook, and Scott buys the ingredients with his first paycheck from the liquor store. We spend the weekend measuring, mixing, and wrapping each block in saran wrap and then placing them in little cardboard boxes. I mail one to my dad and Pat and one to Scott’s family, and I cut blocks in half to give to my co-workers. We put a block away for ourselves, too, to enjoy on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
For a tree, we trek out into the woods behind the cabin and find a pine that has blown over. Scott takes his hand saw, cuts the fallen tree’s top off, and drags it back. It stands eight feet tall. We don’t put lights on it because we can’t spare the electricity, but we string popcorn and hang a set of red bulbs we found at the thrift store. We eat a few pieces of fudge as we decorate, and we sing Christmas carols.
For stockings, Scott and I set a twenty dollar limit, and we each go to the Ben Franklin and do what we can. For Scott I find socks, a deck of cards, chap stick, chocolates, and a new Stephen King novel. I go over the limit for Morgen, buying her a horse, a bead set, a candy cane, and a new scarf and mitt set. I also get her a coloring book, washable markers, and a cozy fleece bathrobe as gifts for under the tree.
Morgen wakes us up on Christmas morning, squealing in delight that “Santa came!” Scott makes us coffee on the stove and brings me a cup in bed before we climb down the ladder and gather around the tree. We each dig into our stockings and admire all the things. From mine I pull out hand lotion, gum, lip balm, fuzzy socks, and chocolate. Scott and I smile at each other and I whisper “Thank You” when I'm sure Morgen’s not listening. Morgen shows us each item she pulls out as though it’s the most precious thing in the world. We watch and revel in the joy and wonder we see on her face. Bright light streams in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow on the room. Snow falls gently down outside and our fire burns quietly, keeping us warm and cozy inside.
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