Page 22 of Meet Me at Christmas
He seemed unsure, and so was she, but she pushed him to finish what he wanted to say.
“Could I what?”
“Could you help me decorate it? I’d be terrible at it.”
“Sure.”
But truth be told, she wasn’t entirely sure at all. However, given what she knew of him since he’d returned, this was the first time he’d asked anyone for anything. Plus he hadn’t shouted or snapped at her, and he was buying a Christmas tree to make his sister happy, for goodness’ sake. He was trying.
* * *
Stella pulled to a stop under the oak tree, behind Henry’s truck, and took a deep breath before getting out of her car. The old log cabin, built in a little clearing in the woods behind the farmhouse, looked the same as the day she’d left it. The two rocking chairs on the covered porch where she and Henry had sat in the warmer months were still there, now holding remnants of snow, void of the holiday cheer she would’ve added. The front doormat she’d bought, weathered from the years, also remained.
Henry hopped into the back of the truck and untied the tree, then hopped down and pulled it from the bed. He reached in and grabbed hold of the trunk before hoisting it over his shoulder, half the tree dragging on the ground as he moved along the little pathway to the porch. If he were anyone else, she’d worry they’d slip, but not Henry. He’d always had an uncanny ability to stay on his feet. As a boy, he could climb a tree in a flash, his balance so steady he could make it all the way to the thin branches at the top with barely a misstep. He used to call her to join him, but she never could, only making it about halfway.
One day, when they were sixteen, he’d climbed up and stopped on a thick bottom branch while she’d clambered up beside him. They sat there, legs dangling above the ground.
“Why do you climb so high?” she’d asked while gripping the tree.
“Because I can see the whole world from up there,” he’d said.
She’d looked out at her limited view, considering this. “Then why didn’t you climb to the top today?”
He gazed into her eyes. “Because I can see my whole world from right here too.”
That was the day he’d kissed her for the first time and their friendship had exploded into so much more.
Refocusing on the present, Stella watched the front door open and the last of the tree brushing the edges of the doorway before it disappeared inside. After taking a quick second to prepare herself, she walked up the three stairs and into the house she’d once shared with Henry.
Nine
As her vision adjusted to the low light, she was suddenly unsteady on her feet. She closed the door, then walked to the sofa and sat down, frantically blinking away the tears springing to her eyes. Henry was fitting the fir into their old metal tree stand and hadn’t noticed.
Stella took slow breaths to try to quell her emotions, but with each inhale she got a familiar noseful of cedar mixed with the scent of lavender and earth from the farm, prompting a deluge of feelings. She remembered waking up in the crisp sheets of their shared bed, the diamond ring and wedding band still new on her finger, and the morning sun streaming through the window of the bedroom. She leaned forward from the sofa to get a glimpse of that room, the foot of the bed visible through the doorway, and she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She wouldn’t think about that room. She couldn’t.
Still unaware of her silent breakdown, Henry went into the kitchen and turned on the faucet. The tree stood strong in the center of the bay window overlooking the rolling Tennessee hills out back. She squinted, imagining it fully decorated, the way she’d done it their first Christmas, but that only caused more tears. She cleared her throat and tried to focus on something else, but everywhere she looked was another memory.
A knock at the door ripped her from her inner turmoil.
“Can you get that?” Henry called from the kitchen.
“Yeah, I’ll get it,” she replied, then cleared her throat, trying desperately to get herself together.
When she opened the door, Mary Jo was on the other side.
“Hey, Stella,” she said, appearing confused, but then wrinkling her nose and grinning. “Where’s Henry?”
“The kitchen.”
“Hey, Henry!” his sister called.
Henry’s deep voice floated into the entryway over the running water. “Hey. I’ll be in, in a sec. I’m just trying to get the sap off my fingers.”
Mary Jo turned to Stella. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”
Stella moved to the side as Mary Jo entered. “I didn’t expect to be here.”
Mary Jo stepped into the small entryway and peered through the opening to the living room. “I can’t believe he actually got a tree. I saw the truck go by the house. And I recognized your car following.”
