Page 33 of Meet Me at Christmas
“Hey, wanna come over to my mom’s with me after lunch? It would give you a break from things and all the heaviness with your sister.”
He pinched a fry and tossed it into his mouth as he seemed to consider the offer.
“My mother and I haven’t seen you in years, so we’d be getting to know you again anyway. No pressure. And I’ll bet we can convince my mom to bake Christmas cookies. She’s just itching for a reason.”
He allowed a little grin. “All right.”
As they ate lunch together, she had no idea if having him over was the right thing to do. She knew a part of her wanted to make things up to him. But what she didn’t want to admit to herself was that there was another part of her that didn’t want to leave his side.
* * *
Henry dropped Stella off at the hospital to get her car, then he followed her home. She tried not to look at him through her rearview mirror during the drive, because every time she did, a tiny seed inside her wanted to pick up where they’d left off, and she knew it wasn’t possible or beneficial to either of them.
After she arrived home, she left her car and waited in the driveway. Henry pulled to a stop behind her and got out. Wondering why he didn’t step up to meet her, Stella turned around to find him surveying the house. She considered whether he was testing his memory to see what he could recall about the place.
“How long did we date?” he asked, his breath puffing out into the cold air as he walked up to her.
She shut the car door. “Officially, a little under a year, but we knew each other our whole lives.” She neglected to divulge the year they’d been married.
All of a sudden he stopped, pausing in the driveway.
“What is it?” she asked.
He pointed to the third upstairs window on the right, squinting up at it. “Did that window ever have a crack?”
She grinned at him. “Yep. Thanks to you.”
He shifted on his feet, the curiosity returning.
She pointed toward a tree near the window. “See that big oak tree right there? I used to climb down it after dark to see you. When we were seventeen, you tossed a rock at the window to get my attention, and it cracked the glass. You worked extra hours at the roofing company to pay my dad back for it.”
A slight twitch of amusement showed at the edges of his lips. “Did you end up climbing out that night?”
“Yeah. I didn’t tell Mama and Pop about the window until the morning.”
He allowed a smile then. “What did we do?”
“We laid on a blanket and looked up at the stars.”
“Mm.” He nodded. “I should probably do that more often.”
“Yeah, me too,” she said, the world slowing down as she considered the idea. It had been quite a while since she’d lost track of time while enjoying something so simple. For so many years, her life had been made of schedules and timelines. Stella took that moment to acknowledge the feeling of their slight bond just now as the two of them agreed on something. It felt good to be on the same side. She nodded toward the front porch. “Come on in.”
When she walked into the living room with Henry, her mother’s eyes widened. She set down the towel she’d been using to dust picture frames.
“Hello,” she said with a questioning smile.
“Look who I brought home from work today,” Stella said, unwinding her scarf.
“I’m the subject of her next article on crazy people, apparently.”
His voice was teasing, but withdrawn and quiet, different from what she’d seen a minute ago. It was as if they’d entered the real world again and he’d closed back up. He laid his coat on the edge of the sofa.
“I told you in therapy that it has nothing to do with being crazy,” Stella said.
He scratched his head. “It feels like I’m crazy. It’s pretty weird when everyone else knows more about you than you know yourself.”
“My dear boy,” Mama said, throwing a hand to her chest, “I’ll bet.”
