Writing about Christmas: It's not all "ho, ho, ho"

Thus, it's entertaining, even for just a writing exercise, to put your characters into a Christmas Eve or Day with their families and see what happens. (You can substitute any other major holiday you like.)

Here is a brief excerpt from my novel Torch, where main character and firefighter Bette Maguire nervously brings her squad mate and friend Joe Griffin to meet her family. I've trimmed some parts out that don't make sense if you haven't read the rest of the novel:

>>>On Christmas Eve, a light, barely-noticeable snow was falling and a brisk wind whipped and whirled the white wisps along the pavement, obscuring ice and cracks and danger spots. Outside the Maguire family home, Bette Maguire and Joe Griffin jumped out of his truck and made their way up the walkway, carrying presents for her family and a still-warm dish of holiday risotto.

Joe isn’t nervous about meeting my parents or the rest of my relatives so why am I nervous about introducing him to them? Bette took in a deep breath as she reached for the doorknob. He’s a great guy. I have to just relax and go with the flow.

Bette stopped at the sight of the pine cone wreath on the door. Made by her grandmother, it was still in excellent condition, and the fish scales that had been woven into the wreath still sparkled, this year from the light of the string of white Christmas bulbs her parents had put up on the porch.

Bette missed her grandmother with an ache inside her, especially at this time of year: the special food they’d made together, the way they had decorated the house for Christmas and wrapped presents together.

While she studied the wreath, the wind rattled the scales against the pine cones, which seemed to whisper a warning of what lay inside the house. It spooked her. As soon as the wind had come, it had gone.

"You okay?" Joe asked her.

When he leaned into her, she noticed he smelled like a combination of mint and his favorite cologne. She could also smell the rice and mushroom dish in the bowl she held. Her stomach growled.

"Yeah, just had some memories of Christmas past." Bette pushed open the door and yelled out, "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas!" a dozen voices replied.

Bette and Joe stamped off the snow while the relatives greeted them, hung up their coats, and the kids took their presents and stacked them under the tree.

As usual, the hors d’oeuvres tasted fantastic, the decorations and Christmas tree were flawless. The long dining table was set immaculately for the dinner to come, but the mood was strained. Bette's parents could be heard arguing in the kitchen.

(Bette introduces Joe around. Bette comforts her drunk sister, then rejoins Joe.)

"Everything okay?" Joe asked.

Bette nodded. "Yeah, for now. I’ll tell you about it later. Now, steel yourself. I’m going to bring you into the kitchen where my parents are."

Bette’s parents were at opposite ends of the kitchen. Her mother was pulling out a pan of green beans from the bottom oven, and her father was slicing the turkey on the long island counter.

"Merry Christmas!" Bette greeted.

"Buon natale!" Mary wiped her hands on a towel and Bette threw her arms around her sweet-smelling mother, who hugged her back.

"Hey, Blondie, we almost didn’t think you were coming," her father said, came over, and hugged her. "Good to see you!"

"Yeah, I’m sorry I couldn’t come earlier. I brought some risotto, though, as planned. Mom, Dad, you remember Joe, right?"

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Maguire, Merry Christmas. It smells great in here," Joe said.

Mary shook his hand and studied him. A good-looking man, nice teeth, dark hair, a strong handshake, definitely Bette’s type physically, but Bette deserves someone with a better career.

Joe noticed Mary’s impeccable hair, the elegant dress covered by the old apron, the manicured nails, and didn’t see a lot of Bette in her. "Nice to meet you, finally. Thank you for inviting me."

"So you’re Bette’s boyfriend, finally?" Mary asked. "Is that why we are finally allowed to meet?"

"Boyfriend?" Bette asked. Her eyebrows went up and she felt her face flush.

Joe gave her a hard look. What’s that hesitation for? Aren’t I her boyfriend?

Bette squirmed at Joe’s glare, but she didn’t say anything. She didn’t like the term "boyfriend." There was no term for what they were — and she didn’t want to define their relationship yet. She liked it free and easy and without commitment, and she was hoping Joe saw it the same way.

"Don’t you think you’d better get that boyfriend part straightened out before you invite them over for Christmas dinner, Bette?" William held out his hand and reluctantly shook Joe’s. "This is nothing personal, Joe. We’re just hoping she marries a doctor or a businessman, or someone in the restaurant business. As long as you know that."

Joe flushed in anger and embarrassment and Bette just bit her lip. There was silence as Joe waited for Bette to defend him and her feelings for him. It didn’t happen.

Bette felt like a deer caught in her father’s headlights.

"William." Mary chastised, then turned to Joe. "Excuse my husband, please. Would you bring out these green beans, Joe? I need to talk to Bette."

Joe agreed and left. William followed, carrying the turkey.

"Okay, everybody, time for dinner," William announced.

In the kitchen, Mary sighed and pulled more food — potatoes and warming bread — from the top oven and placed them on a tray on the counter.

"God, why does Dad have to embarrass me like that?"

"That’s your father," Mary said.<<<