Page 27 of HoHoHo for You

Sam swallowed audibly and nodded at them. “Those are information and links to places that don’t celebrate Christmas, so we can plan next year’s trip,” he said quietly. “I realized I should have been a little more proactive this year, so I thought maybe… maybe every Christmas day maybe our fun is planning the next year’s trip?”

“Babe! That’s a great idea!” I said, washed in relief. Why had he been so nervous about this? I grabbed one of the small bags of my favorite chocolate covered almonds and ripped them open, throwing a couple in my mouth and setting the bag between us as I flipped through the brochures. “I love this!” I said and smiled at him. But my smile faltered because he was barely smiling. “Sam?”

He cleared his throat again. “There’s more in there.”

I frowned, but set the brochures aside and dug into the box. There was more of the slick pamphlets and booklets. I gathered them up and pulled them out… to find a beautiful, hardcover book at the bottom. I glanced up at Sam, then picked it up. It was heavy, dark leather binding with gold foil decorating the cover.

I set aside the rest of the brochures and opened it—gold edged pages made from blank, heavy paper. The kind they used in weddings or memorial events. Sam reached into the box and dug another box out from under some of the snacks. A set of ink pens.

I took it from him and looked at him. “A journal?”

He nodded.

I still didn’t understand. “Is this for the trip next year? I mean, I love that, Sam. For real—I’m excited to do that.”

He nodded again. “Me too. But… Bridget… I want to take a vacation next year because we want to, not because you’reforcedto.”

The cold chill of fear curled down my spine. “O-kay.” We stared at each other for a second, then I shivered. “Sam, you’re freaking me out. Why is this so serious? What are you planning?”

He leaned over to put his coffee mug on the side table with mine, then took both my hands and turned to pull one knee up onto the bed so he was facing me.

“Now you’re really freaking me out,” I said as he locked eyes with me and his expression wassomber.

“Ask me what the journal is for.”

I frowned, but I couldn’t for the life of me see what the big deal was. “What’s the journal for?”

He hadn’t broken eye contact and now he leaned in, intent. “I want you to take it and write down everything that happened on the bad Christmas, from start to finish.”

I went still, but he rushed on.

“Everything you can think of, from the moment that hell began. Events. Feelings. Thoughts. What you’d say to the people involved now if you could.Everything,Bridget.”

I didn’t pull away exactly, but I leaned back from his grip.

“Bridget, this fear is a cage. I want to see you free. And the only way I can envision doing that is if I can help you carry the burden of it. If you write it all down—every single part—when it’s all out there, I want you to give it to me. I’m… I’m going to read it, and then I’ll know.”

“You already know.”

He shook his head. “No, I know the events. But after this I’llknow.All the things that go in your head. All the scenes you see. The sounds. The smells. Thethingsthat haunt you. I’ll know, and I’ll hold it for you. I’ll keep it, I’ll remember itso you don’t have to.”

I didn’t know why that struck me so viscously, and so deeply, but tears sprang to my eyes immediately and I sucked in a breath. “But… you can’t—”

Sam leaned in, his expression intense and his eyes shining too. “I can, babe. I canknowit, and hold it. I can be your watchdog. I can watch for the triggers and find the safe way ahead, and understand. Everything I did to get you here, I can do that every day. I know I can’t take away the past, but I can carry some of the weight of it so you don’t have as heavy a load.”

He was so earnest, almostfrantic.And I couldn’t stop the tears. “I don’t want you to—”

“I have to, Bridget.”

“No, you don’t!”

“Yes, you can’t do this on your own. Babe, can’t you see? It’s too much. No one should have to carry that alone. I can do this—it’s why I’m perfect for you. The ugliness of this life doesn’t shock me. I’ve been in those rooms that smell like blood. I’ve seen people destroy each other—I’vebeen that guy.I can take it. And if I can take it, then I can take some of itfromyou.”

“Why?” I breathed. “Why would you do that for me?”

His face crumpled. “Because it’s what God did for me, and the only reason I’m sane. It was exactly what I needed, and I know it’s what you need too. Seriously, Bridget. Just try? Please. For me? For us… just… try?”

My head reeled. Every deflective, dismissive, self-protective urge I ever had came rushing to the surface.

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