Page 37 of Meet Me at Christmas
Stella fell back down onto the sofa, her mind in a muddle. A part of her felt as though she was eighteen again when she was with him, but the rational side of her kept ticking off all the reasons she definitely wasn’t still that girl.
“I don’t know. Should we switch gears and talk about the parade?”
“I suppose,” Mama replied, not sounding terribly excited.
Stella got back up and retrieved her laptop from her room. She set it on the coffee table and plopped back on the couch. While Mama got comfortable bedside her, she brought up the parade website, and logged in.
“With fewer entries this year, we need to decide on an order for the participants so we can spread out the different types of vehicles, floats, and acts. Then we need to figure out what we’re going to do about Santa.”
Worry filled Mama’s face, settling in the little wrinkles on her forehead and between her eyes. “What will we do without Santa?”
They both fell silent at the double meaning in the question. For many years, Pop had always been Santa.
“I’m right here with you.”
The memory of her father teaching her how to ride a bike came to mind. It was a Christmas morning, and she’d come into the living room to find a shiny, purple bicycle.
“When you feel like you’re falling, put your feet out and catch yourself,” Pop had said.
She’d wobbled along while he held the back of the bike.
“I’m falling!”
“Put your foot out,” he reminded her.
Stella gripped the handlebars, dipping precariously to one side. “I’m not strong enough.”
“I’m right here with you,” Pop assured her. “I’ve got you.” He’d reached out and supported her, keeping her upright.
“Keep me steady.”
She sent the thought to Pop now as tears surfaced in her mother’s eyes. Stella wrapped her arms around Mama, giving her a squeeze. “We’ll be okay,” she said, hoping it was true.
* * *
Later that evening, on her way to the market to grab a jug of milk for Mama, Stella stopped at Smokey’s, the little restaurant on the corner, to take a break and be alone for a little while. A no-frills establishment, Smokey’s served black coffee in thick mugs, and if you wanted cream, they’d bring out a jug of milk from the kitchen. When she stepped into the warmth of the place, just past the little Christmas tree with ornaments in the shape of little snowflakes, she saw Henry’s sister, Mary Jo, sitting alone, fiddling with a plate of food, but not seeming to eat any of it.
Stella made her way over. “Hi,” she said, unwinding her scarf and letting the tails hang down over her shoulders.
Mary Jo looked up, the stress on her face clear as she attempted to smile. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
Mary Jo reached over and pulled out the chair beside her, offering the seat to Stella. “Want to join me?”
She’d originally come to be alone, but given the sadness in her old friend’s demeanor, Stella placed her coat and scarf on the back of the chair and took a seat. One of the waiters came over for her order.
“Just coffee,” she told him. After he left, she addressed Mary Jo. “So what’s going on?”
“It just doesn’t seem like Christmas this year.” She lifted her mug and took a drink, closing her eyes as she swallowed. “I feel like I’ve had to mourn Mama’s death all by myself because Henry is so consumed with everything. And then, with his memory loss and the way he’s managing his stress, I’m on edge all the time. I thought when he started the landscaping business it might help, but it hasn’t. Now that we’re in the winter months, he’s not working at all, and you know how he likes to keep busy.”
Stella’s heart ached for Mary Jo. The laugh lines from happier days had turned downward, her friend’s expression grim. “I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with all this by yourself.”
“Maybe having you back for a little while will make things better with Henry. He still doesn’t feel like my brother, but he has seemed more relaxed since you arrived.”
Stella shook her head. “It would be nice, but I can’t promise any miracles. Although I did get him to bake snickerdoodles with me and Mama.”
Mary Jo’s eyes rounded. “You did?” She laughed. “You couldn’t even get him to bake cookies with you when hedidremember his past!”
