Holly Lane (26 page)

Jenny navigated the small grid of residential streets that led from Holly Lane to the heart of town, where the only lights at that hour were the ones aglow on the large tree in the square. Then she finally said, “I hate to admit it, but . . . you make some good points there.”

“I know I do. And you should be
glad
to admit it. So you can calm down and act normal now.”

“You’re right,” Jen said. “I’m going to do that. Calm down and act normal.”

“Good.”

But then she cast a disparaging glance in Sue Ann’s direction. “But inside, I still don’t
feel
normal. I still have that horrible ache inside me that I can’t seem to run away from.” And she was back to sounding just as emotional as she had a minute ago.

Sue Ann could only sigh. “Listen, Jen—take it from me. No matter how you feel on the inside, act normal anyway. It really does help. And if nothing else, it saves your dignity.”

Jenny nodded, then acknowledged, “You
have
stayed pretty dignified through all this—publicly, I mean.”

“Thanks,” Sue Ann said, and honestly meant it. If Jenny and Adam both thought that, maybe it was true. And dignity hadn’t been easy at times—but it had slowly started getting better, in most ways, especially since she’d forced herself to start getting out and about again.

“So how are things with Adam?” Jenny asked then.

Ugh—her least favorite subject right now. Even if he was always on her mind. “Um, over. Definitely over for sure,” she said with a raw conviction that made her proud.

As Destiny gave way to the more open road that led to the orchard, Jenny peered across the dark car at her. “Something else happened, didn’t it? Something I don’t know about.”

Okay, maybe she’d gone a little overboard on the conviction. But she’d have told Jenny the whole thing anyway, any moment now, whether she’d asked or not. “Well, we had sex again. A couple of times. Really great sex,” she confessed, feeling a little bittersweet about it. “And somewhere along the way I guess I started having . . . stronger feelings for him than I realized.”

“Really?” Jenny asked, clearly pleased. But she didn’t know the rest yet.

“Yeah, and he even decided to tell Jeff he wouldn’t testify as his character witness,” Sue Ann said, remembering how happy that had made her. “But then he found out he was being subpoenaed. Only he didn’t tell me that right away—he waited until after we had sex. And he thinks I’m too worried about the whole thing anyway.”

“Oh Lord, you’re kidding,” Jenny said, and Sue Ann appreciated the sneer her best friend cast in her direction.

“Wish I was, but no, it’s true.” And while, at the time, every worry she could imagine had gone tumbling through her brain—like Adam’s testimony somehow causing her to lose Sophie—she knew that was highly unlikely now. She had a better job on the horizon, after all, and if anyone brought morals into question, Jeff’s own behavior would be put on trial, too. So, for her, this was simply about Adam betraying her trust a little. And right now, even a little was too much. Plus he’d made her feel like an overreactive nut at the same time.

“Did he have any explanation for that?” Jenny asked.

“None that mattered to me,” Sue Ann replied, in no mood to go into detail about it. “And the upshot is that I instantly realized I was right all along and it was far too soon for me to start trusting in another man. But somehow I still managed to get hurt by him.” She scrunched her brow, feeling the sting inside that, so far, hadn’t even begun to weaken. “I don’t know how the situation got away from me so quickly.”

And Jenny said simply, “I think it’s like that with love. It can sneak up on you fast.”

But . . . love? Jenny thought she already loved Adam? Surely not. Surely it took longer to fall in love with someone. Yet she was also in no mood to hash through such a complicated subject right now, so she chose to say nothing in reply.

And as they exited the car and tramped through the snow to Edna’s little white farmhouse with the lacy cookie-cutter trim, she pasted on a smile even though she hurt inside. Because what she’d told Jenny was true—acting normal was the next best thing to
feeling
normal sometimes. And she sensed Jenny doing the same thing.

A minute later, the two were walking in through Edna’s back door—it was the kind of house where anyone who knew Edna just naturally came in the back way—and the place felt busy and alive as soon as they stepped in. Rachel, Tessa, and Amy were already there, and Edna was cooking up a storm, filling the air with rich, heavenly aromas. A tall tree sparkled with old-fashioned ornaments in one corner of the front parlor, and Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas”—scratchy because it came from a piece of vinyl spinning on an old record player—echoed through every room.

“I hope you girls brought your appetites,” Edna was saying. “We’ve got us a big ham with homemade gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, corn, cinnamon apples, cranberry relish, and three different kinds of pie for dessert. And I don’t intend to be loadin’ up my fridge with a bunch of leftovers, neither.”

Meanwhile, their girlfriends were smiling and hugging them hello, setting the gifts they’d brought beneath the tree. Sue Ann was saying how lovely everything looked, and Jenny said how good it was to see everyone, even though they all saw each other fairly often.

But Sue Ann couldn’t have agreed with Jenny’s sentiment more. It truly
was
good to see them. It was good to be swept into this lively, cheerful party and let it make her feel better. Acting normal usually
became
feeling normal when she was with the girls like this.
Thank God for my friends.
Without them, she wasn’t sure what would have held her together lately.

Sadly, though, she also wasn’t quite sure what was going to
keep
holding her together when all the Christmas festivities were over and she ran out of distractions once and for all. She’d been getting herself together after the divorce, finally. But now, that gnawing ache she suffered in her heart for Adam made her fear that, if she wasn’t careful, she could end up on an emotional downward spiral all over again.

It didn’t make sense.

But love doesn’t always make sense.

And then, standing by herself for a moment, peering into the glow of the Christmas tree lights until they almost began blending together, she realized what she’d just said in her head. Love.
Was
she in love with Adam? Already? That fast?

She swallowed around the lump that had just grown in her throat. Oh God. Yes. She was. In love. With Adam. That fast.

Okay. Regroup. Think through this.

I’m in love with a man I
don’t feel I can trust at a time when I’m more fragile and vulnerable than I’ve ever been in my life.

And in a few days my daughter is going to wake up on Christmas morning brokenhearted—in more ways than I can possibly begin to mend.

And I have no idea how to fix any of this.

“All right, dinner’s served,” Edna called from the dining room.

And Sue Ann knew her only choice was to simply keep on distracting herself—at the moment, with food and friends—and to keep on acting normal. It was her only answer to anything right now.

Eighteen

“ . . . hear me! I am not the man I was.”

Charles Dickens,
A Christmas Carol

A
dam sat in a rocking chair in his living room, but everything around him was dusty, and the room smelled . . . stale.
It was cold in here, cold and dank—he should make a fire.
But as he started to get up, his joints ached and he felt deeply fatigued, all the way to his bones.
So maybe a fire could wait.
Maybe he’d just sit here a little while longer.

It was a gray winter’s day outside—no sunlight came in through the windows, and no lamps lit the room, either.
But even in the dim, somber lighting, his eyes caught on some pictures atop the mantel.

His boys—with their families.
They were grown up now, men.
How the hell had
that
happened?
But he knew it was them, knew it to his very core, just at a glance.
And that’s when Adam realized—he was old.
He was old and alone.

A stark sense of pride in both his sons ran through him as he studied the framed eight-by-tens—each appeared to have a wife, kids.
In one of the photos, the whole family wore white and stood outside on a bright summer’s day.
In the other, everyone dressed in sweaters or long sleeves and gathered around a brick hearth.
They all looked happy.

But Adam suffered the faint sense that he hadn’t seen his sons in a while, and that maybe he barely knew their children.
Maybe he hadn’t been the kind of grandpa their kids had
wanted
to know.
Inside now, he felt vaguely snarly, mean—and perhaps that’s how they saw him, too.

When he heard a noise from the kitchen, he barked, “Who’s in there?”

“It’s just me, Uncle Adam.
Sophie,” a female voice said.
“I’m just getting your meals for the week put in containers and labeled.
And you’d best quit yelling or I’ll stop doing even that for you.”

Sophie.
Dear little Sophie.
But she was grown up now, too.
And labeling meals for him?
How old
was
he, for God’s sake?
Or was he just too ornery
and broken down to take care of himself and his own food?
“I . . . didn’t mean to yell,” he called to her softly.

“Really?
Well, that’s a switch.
You usually don’t mind yelling at all.”

He didn’t?
That was who he’d become?
An old man who yelled at everyone?

No wonder he hadn’t seen his boys in a while.
No wonder he was sitting in a dusty, closed-up house, cold and alone.
Well, alone except for Sophie.

A moment later, she came into the room, drying her hands on a dish towel and looking . . . oh so pretty.
Like her mother had when they were young.
His heart fluttered a bit at the thought—but then it clenched tight.
He couldn’t remember how things had turned out with Sue Ann, yet he instinctively knew it was bad.
“Sophie, why are you here?
Why are you helping me?” he asked.

She looked at him like he was becoming addle-brained.
And he probably was, or he wouldn’t
have
to ask, and he wouldn’t find his own life so much of a surprise.
“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “somebody has to.
And nobody really wants to.
But . . . you were good to me when I was a little girl, and despite how mean you are, I guess I’ve kept a soft spot for you all this time.”

“That’s good of you,” he said, only now becoming aware that his voice had turned gravelly over the forgotten years.

The lovely young woman before him appeared stunned at his words.
“You’re right—it
is
good of me.
You’ve never even acknowledged that before.
Thank you.”

He felt embarrassed—by this bitter person he’d apparently become, so bitter that no one wanted to be with him, so bitter that he’d somehow blocked it all out.
So he only nodded in reply.

“Well, you’re set for the week, and I have to go.”

“Where’s the phone?” he heard himself asking.
“Maybe I’ll call Mike.
Or Logan.
Or maybe
even your dad.
Maybe we could all get together, play some cards, drink a beer.”

Again, Sophie just tilted her head, her expression one of confusion.
“Uncle Adam, you haven’t talked to Mike, Logan, or my dad for years.”

He blinked, dumbfounded.
“I haven’t?”

She shook her head, still looking worried that he was losing it.
And he felt like he was, more with each passing minute.
“You had a big falling out with them when I was a kid—don’t you remember?
They got tired of your attitude.”

Adam sighed, feeling all the more weary.
Yet he didn’t want to just keep sitting here—he had the impression he’d been doing that for far too long.
“Well then . . . maybe I’ll go into work for a while.
I could use some fresh air.”

But Sophie only appeared all the more concerned.
“You haven’t worked at the landscape supply in a long time, Uncle Adam.”

“No?”

“Jacob and Joey took over the business years ago.
And you’re darn lucky they’re good enough to keep a roof over your head and food in your mouth.”
Then she stopped, looking sad, and she almost seemed to be talking to herself when she said, “ I might need to let them know, though . . .
”

“Know what?” he asked when she trailed off.

She
gave her head a short, troubled shake.
“Well, you don’t seem quite yourself today.
They’ve talked about it for the last few years, but now it might really be time for them to consider moving you to . . .
”

Again, she didn’t finish.
But he heard her unspoken words clearly enough.
He was old.
He was useless.
He was bitter.
And now he wasn’t even in his right mind.
His boys wanted to put him in a home.

And he suffered the urge to argue—but the more he talked with Sophie, the more he began to understand the pain he must have heaped upon all the people in his life.
It was all murky, distant-feeling, and yet . . . he instinctively knew that the angry fist squeezing his heart had been there for so long that he couldn’t even remember why, only that it wouldn’t let go and was something he’d lost control of decades ago.
He wasn’t sure he deserved any mercy.

“I’ll see you next week,” she finally said, turning to go.

“Sophie, wait,” he rushed, stopping her.

She paused at the doorway, looking back.

“Your mother.
How’s your mother?
What’s she doing now?
Did she ever remarry?
Is she happy?”

Grown-up Sophie looked more stunned by this than by anything else he’d asked.
“You don’t remember?”

Even the effort required to shake his head left him tired.

“Mom’s doing well enough,” she said, but her pursed lips and shaded eyes told him there was more.
“She’s still running Destiny Properties and making a killing.
And she’s bought and refurbished another Victorian in town—that’s the seventh one now.
But no, she never remarried.
No matter how many men pursued her over the years.
And deep inside, she’s never really been happy since she divorced my father.
But the funny thing is . . . growing up, I always got the idea that her unhappiness had more to do with you than with him.”

Adam’s heart broke.
He’d so wanted to find out that Sue Ann had ended up happy, leading a full life brimming with passion and love.
“Tell her I said hello?” he asked.

But Sophie’s eyes darkened further at the request.
“I don’t think so, Uncle Adam.
The very mention of your name always makes her sad.”

Adam flinched awake on his sofa. Then he looked around the room. Low flames burned in the fireplace across the way. Nothing smelled musty or looked uncared for. And the scent of pine from the tree he’d put up—for the sole purpose of having a late Christmas with the twins when they came home, he recalled—filled his senses.

Whoa. It had all been a dream. He wasn’t old. It wasn’t too late.

It wasn’t too late to stop himself from becoming a crusty old geezer no one wanted to be around.

Like other dreams he’d had lately, this one had felt startlingly real—
frighteningly
real. He even raised his head to take a good, thorough look around the room to ensure once again that the place was fairly tidy, not dust-covered, and that everything was as it should be. On the mantel he spotted both his sons’ second-grade pictures. Okay, good. And out the window in the driveway he caught sight of the truck that said
BECKER LANDSCAPING
on the door. He’d driven it home from work today because his parents had borrowed his pickup to bring home a new mattress. Okay, also good. He was still only thirty-three. He had plenty of life left ahead of him. And plenty of time to treat the people around him right.

Which meant, plain and simple, that he had to snap out of this Scrooge thing once and for all. Maybe his holiday season hadn’t been everything he’d hoped, but that didn’t mean he had to take it out on everybody else. And it hit him then that facing his troubles with anger was like . . . well, not really facing them, period.

Sitting up, he gave his head a brisk shake and tried to wake up completely. Only problem was, he still felt pretty Scroogy. Happier than he had a minute ago, of course, when he’d thought he was a crotchety, lonely old man. But sometimes you couldn’t just shake a mood simply because you wanted to.

Okay, how do I shake it?
Really shake it?
For good this time?

His first move, he decided, would be getting out of the house. At the moment, Adam felt like being around people. Whose heads he would try not to bite off. Because being around people was a lot better than sitting in a dusty rocking chair watching the paint peel off the walls.

Grabbing his keys and a coat, he walked out the door not really knowing where he was headed. Sue Ann’s? Nope, bad idea. He was still crazy about the woman, but he hadn’t seen her since she’d thrown him out of her house, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t even welcome on her doorstep right now. The landscape supply? Nah—there was work he could do in the office, but it was getting dark out and it would be as quiet there as it was here.

Finally, as he backed out of his driveway, he decided he’d go where all Destinyites headed when they needed to socialize a little after dark: the Dew Drop Inn.