Page 13 of It's the Worst Time of the Year

Bailey grinned. “I never would’ve pegged you as a troublemaker, Mr. Snowcroft.”

He gave a half-smile. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Miss Pace.”

I noticed Edna gazing at Theodore with an odd look on her face and if I wasn’t mistaken, her eyes grew even more watery.

The conversation flowed more easily after that, stories and laughter filling the space. The storm outside seemed a distant worry, the howling wind muted by the thick walls and the warmth of our gathering.

As the evening wore on, I found myself stealing glances at Bailey across the firelight. She was engaged in a spirited debate with Edna about the merits of traditional versus modern Christmas carols.

Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm; her gestures animated. The soft glow of the fire highlighted the delicate curve of her cheek, the way her lips curved when she smiled.

I felt a familiar ache—a longing for what I’d left behind that I’d been burying ever since the day I said goodbye. Somehow, the past I hadn’t been brave enough to face had caught up with me.

The afternoon wore on, and finally Theodore excused himself to find a bedroom for a nap. Edna went downstairs to search for supplies to come up with a dinner menu, eager to start on the preparations. Bailey told her she’d join her in a few minutes to help.

That left the two of us alone, the fire crackling softly, the room bathed in a gentle glow.

Bailey leaned back in her chair, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “This turned out to be a surprisingly nice day,” she said.

“Not what you expected when you woke up this morning, I imagine,” I replied.

She chuckled. “Not at all. But sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”

“Agreed.”

Silence settled between us, comfortable yet charged with unspoken words.

She glanced at me, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. “Jacob...”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever wonder how things might have been different?” she asked softly.

“Every day,” I admitted.

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “To tell you the truth, I was angry when you left. Thought you didn’t care.”

“I did care,” I said, leaning forward. “More than you know. But I was young, stupid, and thought I needed to prove something to myself.”

“Mom died a little over a year ago,” Bailey whispered.

Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. “What?” I gasped, moving to her at once.

“Cancer,” she continued, her eyes filling with tears. “She fought for a few years, but then there wasn’t any more the doctors could do.”

“Oh my God,” I said as I wrapped her in my arms. “I’m so sorry, Bailey. I didn’t know, or I would have come home.”

She sniffled and pulled back, a sad smile on her face. “That’s okay. Dad and I soldiered through it, but it’s been hard of course.”

I cupped her cheek with my hand, wishing I could do something—anything—to take away her pain.

“Bailey!” Edna’s voice came from downstairs. “Could I get you to help me bring up these potatoes? I’m thinking we’ll have stew tonight.”

“Coming!” Bailey called, turning for the stairs. Glancing back at me over her shoulder, she gave me a tender smile.

“It’s nice to see you again, Jacob,” she said.

Alone, I gazed into the fire as an avalanche of emotions tumbled over me, making me question everything I thought I knew.

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