Page 73 of Meet Me at Christmas
Stella scooted closer, reached for his hand, and laced her fingers through his. Then she told him everything. As her tears fell, she told him about losing their child and what the doctor had said about not being able to have children.”
For the first time ever in her life, she saw tears in his eyes. “We had a baby?”
“Not for very long,” she whispered, the anger at her body surfacing.
His jaw clenched as she gave him this new information.
The pain in telling him was almost unbearable but with every word, it was as if the chains that had held her down since she was eighteen were slowly disappearing. No matter what happened to them going forward, at least now he knew.
“I never got to tell my dad,” she said, her voice breaking. “He and I had always had a bond because I had planned to do what he had, marry and stay in this town. When I left, he thought I wanted something different, and for a long time I tried to convince myself that I actually did. But, really, I’m the one who’s lost. Because my dreams of having a family with you are gone.” She squeezed his hand. “You deserve to have your family. I thought you’d get over me and find someone wonderful who could give that to you. I wanted that for you.”
Henry wiped a tear off her cheek, his sorrow apparent in the set of his jaw. “Stella… Yes, I did want a house full of kids. But you missed one important detail: I wanted a house full of kids withyou. My life starts withyou, Stella.”
“Even if I’m broken?” Her lip began to tremble.
Henry gently lifted her chin. “You’re not broken. God just wants you to make your family a different way. If having kids is what you want.” He leaned into her space to make his point. “We all have moments where our life can go in two different directions, but we have to do our best to find happiness. I learned that the day you walked into therapy.”
His mention of happiness took her back to Pop’s letter. Then she thought back to the article she’dcrafted. Her being there had changed him entirely. “So did you remembereverything?” she asked.
He shook his head. But then he placed his hand on her cheek and gazed into her eyes with so much love that it felt as if her heart would burst. “Just the most important part.” He wrapped his arms around her and the two them shed a few more tears together. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed in his arms, but she knew one thing: that was where she belonged.
* * *
After leaving Henry’s cabin, Stella spent the rest of the evening sitting in silence, sifting through her life in the house Pop had restored for his family. She wished she could go back and do things differently. She would have faced her pain and told Pop what she was dealing with, and listened to his wise words before making a decision. Maybe things would’ve worked out and she’d have even gotten married on the porch like she and Lily imagined. But she had to give herself grace. She had been so naive and young, dealing with something so huge. She’d done the best she could at that moment.
She considered the sparkle she’d seen in her mother’s eyes when she left for college. The what-if, she was sure, was enticing to Mama, but in the end, her mother had chosen long-term happiness over a fleeting curiosity. That decision had given her the best life and allowed her to spend every single day with Pop—one of the most perfect people Stella had known.
She wished again that Pop could be with them now. She believed this life couldn’t possibly be the whole show, and that he was, in fact, somewhere wonderful—maybe even right there with them, but it was hard to believe, given his silence. Pop would make sure they knew he was there—he’d said so himself. Had his voice in her head since she’d been home actually been him? Or was he in the winter wind that blew over her cheeks when she went outside? Maybe he’d find a way to show her.
Twenty-Three
“Well, don’t you look just perfect?” Stella said as she walked into the living room, the next day, the gray, early-afternoon light filtering in around them.
Mr. Ferguson was in the chair next to the Christmas tree, and he was wearing the Santa suit. It was made from a thick red velvet material with white fur cuffs, black buttons down the front, and a wide leather belt latched by a shiny silver buckle. Mr. Ferguson had incorporated his own beard into the artificial one, and Mama had curled it all in ringlets before adding blush to his cheeks to enhance their rosiness, the way she had for Pop. He planted his bulky black boots on the floor and hoisted himself up, looking both reminiscent of her father and also like the big guy himself.
“Thank you for letting me do this,” he said.
Stella smiled. “Of course. You definitely fit the part.”
“It makes me feel the magic again. It’s been a long time.”
“Do you have your hot cocoa?” Mama asked, coming into the room while folding up her red-and-green holiday blanket. She tucked it in the basket they always took with them to the parade.
Stella raised her travel mug. “Yep.”
“Great. It’s going to be a cold one.” Mama was all bundled up for the festivities in her wool cap and matching scarf. She had also filled the basket to the brim with sandwiches, snacks, and cookies to get them through until dinner. “I say we drop Herbert off with the parade procession, help him get into his chair on the float, and then park just outside town and walk in.”
“It’s a little early, isn’t it? We won’t need this much time.”
Stella’s phone pinged with a text from Henry:
Meet me at Christmas. I’ll be on the side with the tree lot. No running away this time.
She bit back a grin and shook her head. “Oh, never mind. We should go.”
“The car’s already running,” Mama said, holding open the door. “What changed your mind?”
“Henry wants me to meet him at the tree lot.”
