Page 6 of Meet Me at Christmas
She didn’t look back because if she had, she’d have changed her mind, and this life wasn’t what either of them needed. She’d barely escaped it, and he had no idea what lay ahead of them. Even though she wanted to crumble to the ground in anguish, she put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, until she made it to her childhood home. Then she went into her bedroom, collapsed onto her bed, and cried herself to sleep. The next day she left for California before she even knew if she’d gotten into Stanford. That way, she couldn’t change her mind.
* * *
Still in shock from sliding in the ditch and seeing Henry again, Stella stood at the checkout counter with Mama while she paid for the groceries. She considered inviting Henry in once they got home, maybe try to set things straight, but with the storm, it probably wasn’t a good idea. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to see him again—she hadn’t even thought he’d be in Tennessee. He had every right to still be angry with her, even though she hoped thirteen years apart would’ve softened it a little.
“Stella, can you take this?” her mother said, holding out one of the bags and pulling Stella from her thoughts.
Stella took it and carried it against her chest, then after her mother opened the door, she climbed back into the truck. Before she knew it, she was in the middle, pressed against Henry’s side, her mother pulling herself up into the truck and shutting out the frigid air. Stella swallowed as her arm touched his leather coat. He turned toward her, their eyes meeting, but he wasn’t allowing any thoughts he may have to show. All she wanted to see was a flicker of that affection he’d felt for her, but she knew she’d never get it, and even if she did, it would only make things more difficult. In his mind, she’d hurt him too badly to deserve it anyway. Even after thirteen years, that was pretty clear.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“I’m staying with Mama,” she replied.
“What street?”
What was he talking about? He knew good and well where to take her. He was just being obstinate now. But she couldn’t blame him for treating her like a stranger. She hadn’t handled things like she should have, even though she was too young back then to know how.
“The one we’ve always lived on: the magnificent Willow Lane.”
Years ago, whenever his friends would ask where he was going after school that day, he’d grab hold of Stella’s waist and say,“The only house on the magnificent Willow Lane, home of the most wonderful woman in the world.”Then he’d pull her in for a kiss, making all his friends roll their eyes. She’d used his words now, hoping to lighten the situation, to let him know that she still remembered their fond moments together, but she didn’t receive any indication that he cared to remember.
He searched her face and then his jaw clenched. Saying nothing, he put the truck into gear and drove them home.
“If we get much more ice, I’d wait to call a tow truck until after they come through to salt the roads,” he said through his teeth when they got out in the driveway in front of Mama’s house.
Stella nodded. “Thank you for taking care of us.” She offered him another small smile that he didn’t return, breaking her heart again. A heaviness fell over her as she followed Mama into the house and set the bag she’d been carrying on the table. Then she went to the window just in time to catch a glimpse of the Chevy pulling onto the snow-covered road, Henry’s red taillights vanishing into the darkness. “He’s definitely different, isn’t he?” she said, turning back to Mama, still trying to get herself together.
“Seems that way.” Mama grabbed the bags of food and took them to the kitchen to unpack.
Stella followed, digging into one and pulling out the baking powder and a container of salt, placing them in the spice cabinet, her mind entirely on Henry. Little snippets of happier times that she’d long buried hit her left and right, and while she tried to push them out of her memory, one moment in particular took hold. The task of putting away groceries faded easily as she slipped into the past.
“You can’t escape me, Stella Marie!” Henry had called from behind her one day, chasing her down the snowy lane after she’d clocked him in the side with a snowball. It had been one of the few winters their part of Tennessee had gotten enough snow to collect on surfaces.
Pushing her muscles to the brink through all her heavy clothes, the icy wind at her face, she gasped, trying to overcome his giant strides.
She was unsuccessful, and he grabbed her around the waist. “Gotcha!”
When she struggled to wriggle free, he scooped her up and they fell together onto the snow-covered ground. Seemingly unfazed by the cold temperatures, he drank her in with those adoring sapphire eyes of his.
“I love you,” he said out of nowhere. Then his freezing lips had met hers…
“Good thing we have food now,” Mama said, pulling Stella from the memory.
Glad to abandon their conversation and her thoughts about Henry, Stella added, “Yes. With no four-wheel drive on these icy hills and one car in the ditch, we’re at the mercy of the salt trucks.”
Mama gave her a tight smile. “Well, it’ll give us time to get the house in order. We have a lot of Christmas decorating still to do.” She waved a hand at the empty Fraser fir tree in the corner. “I figured we could start in here.”
“That sounds like a plan.” Decorating would hopefully get both their minds off heavier things for a little while.
Mama clicked on the Christmas music. “Help me get the boxes out of the attic.”
Stella followed her mother to the hallway between the living room and the bedrooms until they reached the small rope-pull hanging from the ceiling.
“Your dad made me promise I’d keep going for him, so I worked on getting the lights up outside before the storm and buying the tree down at the lot, but that was all I could do.” Her mother’s eyes glistened. “The rest I figured we could do together now that you’re here.”
Stella grabbed her shoulder, squeezing it to release the pain, as if her stress had settled there.
“I just can’t get myself excited for the holiday—not without him.”
