Page 57 of Meet Me at Christmas
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“Y’all have fun,” Mama said to Stella and Henry after they’d cleaned up the dinner dishes.
Henry placed his hand on Stella’s back, guiding her to the back door. “Yes, ma’am.”
Stella grabbed her coat and went outside. “Mama said you remembered your parking spot.” She climbed into Henry’s truck.
He started the engine, and snow flurries began to flutter, landing softly on every surface and swirling on the wind. “Yeah.”
“Do you remember anything else?”
He put the truck in reverse and twisted around to check behind them before he pressed the gas. “Not too much.”
His answer didn’t settle her like she’d hoped it would. She couldn’t get a read on him to determine if he recalled anything else about their history.
The gravel spun under his tires. He backed right up to the tree the way he’d always done, with perfect precision—she could reach out her window and touch the bark, but he’d never once hit the tree. It was as if he’d remembered exactly how to maneuver in that tight spot. He put the truck in drive, went around the front of the house, and they were off, heading down the lane for the main road.
The drive to Christmas was short. Henry parked the truck and hopped out, then strode around to Stella’s side to meet her. The twang of country Christmas carols floated toward them as they made their way to the makeshift venue, erected in a nearby barn. The dark-red doors were flanked by glittering Christmas trees with lights strung above them.
He ushered her inside. Space heaters warmed the entire barn, soothing her icy skin. A band played on the stage, behind a row of hay bales, and the thumping of the drums echoed in her chest.
Henry gestured toward the bar lined in swags of red and green ribbon. “Want a drink?”
“No, thank you.” The alcohol wouldn’t settle well in her stomach, given her nerves over being with him. The closer he got to being the Henry she knew, the more unsure she became in how to act around him.
“All right then.”
The band kicked in with a slow tune, which slowed down her busy mind and soothed her a little. He walked around behind her and took her coat by the shoulders, guided it off, and placed it on a nearby stool with his.
“Let’s dance.” He held out his hand.
She eyed him, uncertainty swimming through her.
“It’stherapy.”
The other option was to talk, and she wasn’t sure she was ready to do that either. With him remembering more, he might have questions. So she took his hand and they walked onto the old wooden dance floor. He held her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck, then swayed together like they hadn’t missed a beat. It was everything she could do not to look up at him, so she turned her head and put her cheek on his chest, breathing in his woodsy, spicy scent. She closed her eyes, the feel of the moment like heaven. The tenderness in his grip, the steadiness in his breathing—it all felt so natural.
“Give yourself grace.”Pop’s voice floated in on a memory from a time she’d struggled with a bad grade at school because she hadn’t studied as much as she should have.“Remember, we can’t change what’s done. What matters most are the choices we make today.”Her gaze landed on a nearby table, a Santa hat sitting there all alone. He used to wear a hat just like that the whole week before he was Santa in the parade. It was as if Pop were there somewhere and had just taken it off. The sight of it felt like he was leaving her a reminder of him, even though that couldn’t be. He certainly couldn’t have met her at Christmas this year, could he?
She kept her head resting on Henry’s chest, trying not to let herself worry about things too much, and just enjoy this moment with Henry, dancing. That’s what Pop would’ve told her to do.
When the song ended, she’d calmed down, thanks to hearing Pop’s words and feeling the gentle movements of Henry’s hands as they’d swayed together. She’d helped Henry, but in a way, he’d helped her too. Being with him and facing him made her feel as if things could somehow work out and be okay.
The band kicked in to a gritty, folky tune, the fiddle going a mile a minute. Henry took her hands and spun her, making her laugh, before pulling her next to him and moving to the music. That deviously gorgeous smile she’d always known had returned, and she couldn’t help but fall prey to his charm. As they moved around the dance floor, only then did she notice a few familiar faces of people in town, gathering and smiling. Mary Jo was at the edge of the floor. She waved and then clapped along to the music, alight with merriment at the sight of them. Marty, the old farmer from down the street, threw up a hand to them with his wife, Penny, bopping along beside him. Other neighbors and townsfolk she hadn’t seen in years were watching them as well, as if she and Henry were putting on a private show.
“Look at those two,” she overheard Penny say to one of the church ladies on the other side of her. “I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”
Dancing with Henry made Stella feel more alive than she had in years. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stopped working long enough to do something spontaneous. She’d been so busy trying to keep herself from noticing the loss of this very feeling that she hadn’t been able to enjoy herself in over a decade. When she stole a glance at Henry, his wide smile told her she wasn’t the only one. That angry man she’d encountered when she first arrived had all but vanished.
The band finished the song to the cheers of the small crowd, and Henry gestured toward the bar. She followed him to a tall table with a candle flickering inside a mason jar.
“Sure you don’t want something to drink?” Happiness sparkled in his eyes.
“Oh, all right,” she relented.
He held up a finger and jogged to the bar, returning quickly with two beers. He set one on the table in front of her. “That was fun,” he said.
If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was standing opposite eighteen-year-old Henry again by the lightness in his manner.
