Page 58 of Meet Me at Christmas
“Yeah, it was.”
He took a swig of his beer and placed the bottle on the table. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”
“For what?” If anyone should be sorry, it was her.
“I know you have work to do. I shouldn’t have downplayed that. And I also know that, by leaving the therapy program, I might have screwed it up. It wasn’t intentional.” He pouted adorably. “If you want me to go back so you can finish your research, I will. But I just don’t get much out of it.”
“I do think traditional therapy can be helpful,” she said over the music. “But I’d hate for you to go through with it for my benefit. I’d much rather it be for your own.”
“I don’t find it helpful at all. It’s slow.”
“It’s a process.”
He shook his head. “Ms. Weixel wanted me to think positively, to”—he held up his hands to make air quotes—“‘open up those channels in my brain’ to see the silver lining.” He leaned across the table toward her. “But the thing is, there wasn’t anything positive in my life until you came back.”
She was starting to see what he meant. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything before—the loss of her first love, sadness about her dad, or the pain of losing a child.
“I understand. But what will you do after the holiday when I leave? Have you thought about that?”
He picked up his beer, but didn’t drink it, his jaw clenching as he looked out over the crowd on the dance floor. “No.” His face softened and he reached out for her hand. “Can we just take it day by day?”
That was all she could do, given the fact that she wanted to stay in this moment with him for as long as possible.
Seventeen
The night before, after Stella came home from the Christmas lot with Henry, she and Mama had finished a few more preparations for the parade, assigning vendors tasks to help organize it, and emailing the final lineup to the participants. But they still had no Santa.
Stella laid on her bed as the morning sun peeked through the winter clouds and pondered alternative final float ideas, but the truth of the matter was that everyone expected to see Santa on the last float. When no other options came to her, she got up, grabbed her laptop, and went in search of breakfast.
Mama was at the kitchen table in front of a box of tissues, with one balled in her hand. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, blinking furiously and clearing her throat.
Stella sat next to her and put her hand on her mother’s knee. “Mama, what’s wrong?”
“I’m okay. It’s just a low day.” Mama rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I miss your dad so much that I feel like I won’t make it through. I close my eyes, and I swear I feel him standing next to me, but when I open them, no one’s there. My world is so empty without him.”
Stella wrapped her arms around Mama’s shoulders, her own pain welling up. “I know. Sometimes, I swear I can hear him talking to me. And yesterday, there was a Santa hat sitting alone on a table at Christmas and it was all I could do not to look around for him.”
Mama smiled through her tears. “That doesn’t surprise me. He wasalwaystalking, and if he could, he’d have left that hat just for you.”
A tear slipped down Stella’s cheek. “I feel I’ve missed out, being gone so much. I wasted his last years.”
“You had no idea they’d be his last.”
“I wish he would’ve told us how sick he was.”
Mama nodded, blotting her eyes with her tissue. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to start your day with this.”
“I think starting my day with family is pretty great, actually.” She gave her mother a squeeze, wishing Lily could be there as well to comfort their mother. But she dared not allow the utter confusion over her sister’s absence to creep in—she had enough emotion to manage at the moment.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Mama gave her a meaningful look before she cleared her face and stood. “So. What’s on the agenda today?”
Stella rolled her shoulders. “I need to work on my second article. I’ve got to see if I can iron out the slant I want to take so I can get the premise over to my editor for approval. I’m close, but I need to do a lot of research.”
“That sounds like it might call for sugar. Let me know later if you need a plate of cookies to get you through, and I’ll fix one right up.” Mama winked at Stella, clearly trying to lighten the mood she’d set. “At least it’ll be quiet for you here. We’re out of salt, and I’m going to run to the store. Need anything?”
“No, thanks. I’m okay.”
“All right. There’s cereal in the pantry, and we’ve got plenty of eggs if you want to fry some up.”
