Page 4 of Mistletoe and Holly

“Yeah, she texted this afternoon. They had to put a few pins in Mandy’s leg, but she was able to go home afterward. I guess she’ll be on crutches for at least a month before they can transition her to a walking boot.”

“How areyoudoing with all of this?” I asked, knowing that getting a call about someone she cared about being in a car accident had to have brought back some extremely painful memories.

She sighed as she opened the door and we walked inside.

“I had a mini panic attack this morning when she called. But now that I know Mandy’s going to be okay, I’m fine.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. She was such a strong woman, but I knew her well enough to know when she was barely keeping it together. When she struggled with the residual trauma from losing the love of her life in such a sudden, horrific way. Maybe because I struggled with the same trauma since it had been my brother who died.

My eight-year-old niece – a spitting image of her father with her strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes – was sitting in the living room watchingA Charlie Brown Christmas, and just seeing her watching this movie that her father and I had grown up watching during the holidays gave me an idea for something I could do with her tonight.

“Uncle Shep!” Harper exclaimed, jumping up from the couch and racing over to me.

“Hey, princess,” I chuckled, letting go of Holly and lifting Harper off the floor in a bear hug. “How are you tonight?”

“Good,” she murmured as I set her back down. “But I’m worried about Mandy.”

“I know. I am too. But her mom’s taking really good care of her, and I’m sure she’ll let you come over for a visit when she’s feeling a little better.”

“Harper, can you please set the table while I get in the shower?” Holly called as she walked back toward the master bedroom. “We’re going to have to have a quick dinner tonight so I can leave on time.”

“Okay, Mom,” she answered.

I heard the door to the bedroom close, and I crouched so I was at Harper’s level.

“What do you think about helping me surprise your mom by making dinner instead?” I whispered conspiratorially.

Her face lit up like it was Christmas morning, and she nodded vigorously.

“Okay. Come on, let’s see what you’ve got in the fridge,” I told her.

* * *

By the time Holly emerged from the bedroom twenty minutes later, Harper had not only set the table like her mom had asked, but had also helped me assemble three Caesar salads, while I was almost done grilling chicken breasts to put on top of them. Well, Harper’s was already done since she wasn’t a fan of spicy food. I’d decided to do blackened chicken for me and Holly.

“Oh, my goodness,” Holly gasped. “What’s all this?”

“Dinner,” I told her as I turned off the stove and put the blackened chicken on the cutting board to chop up. “Figured I might as well make myself useful since I was here.”

“More like work miracles if you’ve managed to convince your niece to eat a salad for dinner,” she chuckled.

“I made her promise to try it, and if she doesn’t like it, I told her she could have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. That’s what you usually do, right?” I asked, putting the chicken on our salads and setting the plates on the table.

Holly nodded and swallowed hard, her eyes wide, like she was completely dumbfounded.

“I…I don’t know what to say,” she said quietly, her voice thick with some emotion I couldn’t place.

I hated so much that all it took to make her emotional was something as simple as cooking dinner for her before she headed out to her second job. I admired the hell out of her for picking herself up by her bootstraps and doing what she needed to do to provide for herself and her daughter after Owen’s death, but I wished she understood that trying to be strong didn’t mean she had to keep doing everything all by herself.

But I didn’t know how to tell her that it was okay to ask for help. That she wasn’t a burden to me or to anyone else who loved her. That even the strongest people had their breaking points, and that it was okay to admit it if she’d reached hers.

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart,” I told her. “I’m just glad I could do something to help. Come on; let’s eat, and then I’ll help you get Mistletoe loaded up.”

* * *

“Uncle Shep, can I ask you something?” Harper asked as I was tucking her in.

“Of course, princess.” I pulled her comforter up over her and sat on the edge of her bed. “What’s on your mind?”

---