Page 8 of Meet Me at Christmas
Stella shook her head, laughing while he pushed the large bench swing back and forth, lulling her.
She’d been so young back then that it had never occurred to her that she might not get another chance to feel love like that again. And, if she were being honest, she hadn’t considered what it felt like to be without it for quite some time. The insane hours she kept traveling and working doing a good job of keeping her thoughts at bay. The distance in Henry’s face tonight flashed in the front of her consciousness, making it hard to breathe. She couldn’t wait to dive into work tomorrow and get her mind off it.
“Speaking of your dad,” Mama said, coming back over and holding the strand of lights out so it wouldn’t get tangled. “He always planned the Leiper’s Fork Christmas parade.” That look of worry settled on her mother’s face once more.
Stella had fond memories of the parade. No matter what was going on in their lives, everything stopped the day of the parade. They gathered—the whole family—along with all their friends and neighbors, the scent of fire-roasted caramel corn in the air and the tinkle of jingle bells mixing with the chatter of the crowd. It didn’t get much better than that.
“The town committee asked if I wanted to plan it this year or if we’d like to find a replacement. I should’ve passed it along, but I promised your dad I’d keep everything going.” Her bottom lip wobbled. “I told them I’d plan it.” She fiddled with the lights on her end. “I also told them everything was going well, but every time I’ve tried to work on it, I just couldn’t. I put in for the parade to be the day before Christmas Eve this year to give me the most amount of time and now that’s less than two weeks away.” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t seem right not to have him there.”
The reality of the situation set in slowly. Pop worked almost all year on the parade, coming up with ideas, organizing the floats and the school bands, the farmers, the vendors…
“Wait. You mean you haven’t plannedanythingyet? Pop usually started official participant registration in October. Has that been posted?”
“Yes.” She reached for Stella’s hand. “I need to organize it all, though. You used to work on it with him, so you know what to do, right?”
The parade had beentheir thing. Lily had never been interested, but Stella was the organizer of the two of them and had always bonded with Pop over the Christmas parade. The two of them stacked flyers, scheduled events, booked bands…
“Will you help me plan it?” her mother asked.
She had a deadline looming for the article she’d been researching in London, and she hadn’t even begun the second. She still needed to get permission from all her sources and back up her facts with credible publications, and there was an email she was waiting for that she needed to follow up on or she wouldn’t have the most recent research… There was no way she could take on something as monumental as the Christmas parade.
But she wavered the minute she saw her mother’s anxious expression.
“You’ll have to help her with a lot.”Pop’s voice came through once more.
With resolve, Stella squeezed Mama’s hand. “Of course I’ll help you.”
Four
The next morning, Stella tried to call Lily again, but the phone went straight to voicemail.
“Hey,” she said, momentarily at a loss for words. What should she say to her little sister who’d run off and changed her life without even bothering to tell Stella? “I’d love to know what’s going on. Call me.” But the dull silence made her wonder if the line was even connected.
She blew air through her lips as she clicked off her phone and tossed it on the bed. Then she padded down the hallway and into the kitchen wearing the long sweatshirt and fuzzy socks she’d thrown on last night, the jet lag having caught up with her. She’d passed out in bed in a matter of seconds.
The tree they’d decorated gleamed in the open space between where she stood and the living room.
“Morning,” Mama said from the table, the news on the small television in the corner. “I made pancakes and coffee if you want some.” Her mother’s tone didn’t match the offer; she held a balled tissue in her hand. With a sniffle, she got up and tossed it into the trashcan then poured herself a cup of coffee. From the lip print on the mug, it looked like it wasn’t her first of the day.
Stella yawned and made her own cup of Joe, topping it off with sugar and cream, her mind flitting back to her sister. She should be with her family right now, she thought. Even if Lily had to face being there without Pop, she should do it, because the rest of her little family needed her. And who was this mystery guy she’d eloped with? Had she only just met him? Why all the secrecy? Wouldn’t she want him to meet her family? Even though Stella had done something similarly impulsive, it didn’t make handling Lily’s choices any easier. If anything, it only made it harder.
The romance of the situation did sound like Lily; she’d always been the dreamer of the two of them, seeing life through rose-colored glasses. While growing up, when Stella had her nose in one of her textbooks, often Lily would sit next to her, chatting on and on about her friends at school or her latest hobby.
The only time Stella had ever felt carefree was when she was with Henry. In those moments of laughter, when she’d gotten lost in his eyes, she would get a sense of how her sister viewed the world. When Stella was with Henry, it was as if everything she’d done in life had led to that time. Nothing mattered—not school, not college, not her choice of career. She found joy at home, with him.
Now at the age of thirty-one, she sometimes wished she could go back and do things differently, although she wasn’t sure it would’ve changed anything.
“The weatherman said the storm came in quicker than they’d expected.” Mama’s elbows were on the table as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips, focused on the TV, unaware of Stella’s contemplations. “Looks like most of it’s out of here already.”
“That’s good news.” Stella walked over to the table and sat next to Mama. She leaned away from her to get a glimpse of the frosty yard through the window. “How do the roads look?”
“They’re not great, but give ’em a few hours of sunshine and they should get better. We should probably call a tow truck to retrieve your car this afternoon.”
Henry’s face floated into Stella’s mind, and she rubbed her eyes to make it stop.
Mama’s gaze turned to her, lingering.
“I’m still getting over the jet lag,” she said to cover it up.
