Smoky Mountain Dreams (50 page)

Jesse cracked up and Nova did too. Christopher laughed
along, though he didn’t know the context of the inside joke: Nova only liked
cheap wine no matter how Jesse had tried to train her tongue to appreciate the
good stuff.

“But back to you, Christopher.” She smiled at him. “Do you
have any aspirations for your career? To replace Lash, perhaps, when he finally
drinks himself to death?”

Christopher paled a little and then blushed. He cleared his
throat, looking down at his glass rather than meeting Jesse or Nova’s eye. He
shrugged. “Well, I do have something I’ve been thinking about lately.” He
glanced up at Jesse and then back down. “I don’t think I’ve got what it takes
to be Lash’s permanent replacement if he ever left. I think I could continue on
as his replacement’s back-up, but I know Melissa would probably go hunting for
a new great talent like Lash. But, recently, I’ve been writing music again for
the first time in a long while, and it’s reminded me of why I started in music
to begin with.” He looked up at Jesse again. “To express myself and make
something beautiful out of my feelings and experiences. Or as beautiful as my
talent will allow.”

“Now, don’t be self-deprecating,” Nova said. “It’s not good
for the flow of chi. It’ll back you up.”

Christopher chuckled. “Noted. I don’t want to be backed up.”

“Go on—what would you do with these new songs?”

“Lately I’ve been thinking of starting up a YouTube channel
for my music. I’ve followed some musicians on YouTube for a long time, and some
aren’t much better than I am. It’d be a good platform to begin. And maybe
someday, if I could save the money, I’d want a recording studio where I could
put out my own records and record the music of my friends at Smoky Mountain
Dreams too. There are plenty of performers there who do their own music and
would just like to be able to put out MP3s of it. I’d have to learn how to mix
music, or hire someone else to do it, but—well, that’s all really long term.
Way out in the future.”

Jesse didn’t think it needed to be that far out. Provided
Christopher would take a loan from him. Though, maybe that was something to
save for a year or so from now. Just to make sure this connection between them
really was something that could last and weather storms. He wasn’t sure they’d
even had their first fight. Did the misunderstanding about Marcy count?

“Those sound like admirable and realistic goals,” Nova said
and patted Christopher’s hand.

The door from the deck opened and Will tumbled through it at
breakneck speed, cheeks flushed, and hair a tousled mess.

“Mr. Chris!” he said, barreling toward Christopher. “Guess
what we saw? A bear! In the woods! And Brigid screamed and Grandpa was all, ‘Only
calmness brings calmness’ or something, I don’t know, but then he said to make
a lot of noise as we backed away, only
slowly
, and
the bear climbed up a
tree
!”

Tim and a quietly crying Brigid came through the door,
Brigid clinging to Tim’s side with all her might, making it hard for him to
walk.

“Now don’t panic,” Tim said to Jesse. “It was just a bear.”

 “You okay, B?” Jesse asked, going to her. She shrugged and
transferred her embrace from Tim to Jesse. She clung to him and he rubbed her
back.

“It was a beautiful beast,” Tim said as he ran his hand over
Brigid’s hair. “Gorgeous.”

“It didn’t seem aggressive?” Jesse asked.

“No. It beat a hasty retreat.”

“S’okay, B. You guys did the right thing by making a lot of
noise and backing away.”

She nodded and then moved out of his arms. She wiped her
eyes with the back of her hand and seemed to suck in a breath of dignity before
straightening her shoulders and flipping her hair. She went to Christopher. “Wanna
make some cranes with me?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, glancing toward Jesse as he stood. Leaving
the kombucha behind, Christopher followed Brigid into the living room. Will
trailed at their heels, jabbering about the bear and how Tim had been so
cool-headed.

“She seems to have gotten over her issues with him,” Nova
said, taking a sip of her tea.

Jesse sat back down, watching as Brigid and Christopher got
down on the floor beside the coffee table and started in on the cranes. The
McMillan’s Christmas tree was in the corner behind them and the lights glowed
against Christopher’s pale skin, brightening it softly. Piles of gifts had
grown under the tree and Jesse wondered when he should address the problem of
when they’d all get together to exchange them since he and the kids wouldn’t be
here for Christmas day. He ignored the pang.

“Yeah. Things have improved a lot in the last couple of
weeks since Thanksgiving. They seem to have found their way together.”

“That’s good. Glad you didn’t force it.”

Jesse nodded, admiring Christopher’s fingers as they folded
the sheet of paper into a crane.

“And Will seems taken with him.”

“Will’s liked him from the beginning.”

Tim nodded, dropping into the chair beside Jesse. “He’s an
easy kid.”

“He is.”

Nova sighed. “So, you’re happy?”

Jesse couldn’t stop the smile that broke over his face. “Yeah.
I am.”

“Good. That’s all we’ve ever wanted for you, son,” Tim said,
gripping Jesse’s arm.

“Will he be spending Christmas with you?” Nova asked.

Jesse nodded. “I think so. That’s the plan anyway.”

“Then it’s all come out the way it should.”

Jesse took another sip of kombucha. “Maybe so,” he conceded.

“Dad,” Brigid called. “Come in here. Christopher can make
them so fast!”

They all moved into the living room and settled down to
watch Christopher and Brigid work.

“I guess you never forget. Like riding a bike,” Christopher
said, proudly.

Jesse grinned. Christopher looked beautiful sitting on the
floor with Brigid, smiling and laughing at Will’s commentary, and then talking
earnestly with Nova and Tim. Jesse could imagine a whole future made up of
times like this, and the vision burned through him joyfully.

He could have a future with someone he cared about. It was
something he could reach out and grab. He tugged Will into his lap and snuggled
up with him, satisfied in a way he hadn’t known in years.

“Well, look at you,” Gran said, leaning forward in the
wheelchair and reaching up for him. “Come on now and give me some sugar.”

The entire nursing home, including Gran’s room, was
decorated for Christmas. The common areas hosted several trees, and her room
was done up with some gaudy bows and doodads. There was a big wreath over the
window, a nativity scene poster stuck up on the wall by the door, and the
finishing touch was the sound of Amy Grant’s Christmas album coming from the
speakers by her bed.

Edna wasn’t in the room, and after Christopher had obliged
Gran with a kiss, he looked wonderingly toward her bed.

“Oh, just out with her good-for-nothing son. Took her to
Cracker Barrel. In this weather? He shoulda brought her something, I tell you.
She has no business being out in this wet and cold.”

Christopher smiled and pulled up a chair to sit across from
her. He took her gnarled hand in his, tracing the puffy lines of her veins, and
tried to think of just what to say.

“I gotta tell you I’m sorry,” Gran said quietly.

Christopher’s lips turned up at the edges as a sad smile
twisted through his heart and smeared across his face. “No, Gran. That’s not
why I’m here.”

She went on like she didn’t hear him, “Well, I am. I shouldn’t
‘a done it. I know that now. But what I wanted was for it to get bad enough
that you’d put an end to it your own self. Or that your mama would. I wanted it
to get downright awful, for Bob to expose himself as the sick man he is, an’
most of all, I wanted you to understand you can’t keep going there,
Christopher.” She gripped his chin, forcing him to meet her clouded hazel eyes.
“I wanted Joe to see it too, an’ I wanted him to show you how to just get up
and walk out. And he
did
. So, that part worked. Your
mama, though. I didn’t think she’d be so quick to throw her baby away.”

“She threw me away a long time ago, Gran.” It was still hard
to say, but he felt less sick to his stomach each time.

She clucked her tongue, her eyes sad and stormy. “I guess
she did, baby boy. I guess she did. She always was a weak-minded fool.”

“Thank you for apologizing, Gran, but I’m here to tell you thank
you, actually.”

Gran blinked at him like he’d gone mad.

“If you and Lee hadn’t conspired then I don’t think I’d have
ever been brave enough to do what I needed to do. Well, what Mom did, really, I
guess. But in the end, her cutting me free is probably the best thing that
could have happened.”

Gran squeezed his hand and nodded her head. “I’m still so
sorry, baby.”

“It’ll be okay, Gran. Maybe one day I’ll make my own family.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. “That Jesse Birch and his
kids, maybe? They need you and you’d be good for them.”

Christopher winked at her. “Maybe so, Gran.”

She wagged a finger. “No, you fess up, young man. Things are
more serious now, aren’t they?”

“They are. I had dinner with him, the kids, and his in-laws
the other night. They’re more like his parents than his parents are, it seems.”

“And they accepted you?”

“With open arms. Everyone got along and seemed happy to see
everyone else. Even me.”

“Of course they were happy to see you!”

“You know that wasn’t a given, Gran.”

“I know enough about Tim and Nova McMillan to know they’d be
fools not to just plum fall in love with the likes of you.”

“Well, I don’t know about love, but they liked me, I’m
pretty sure.”

Gran’s eyes softened and she looked up at the ceiling,
muttering a quiet “Thank you, Jesus.” She smiled at him. “And you thought no
one would ever love you just the way you are. Thought no one would need you.”

“I don’t want to be needed,” he said—though truthfully he
did. “I just want someone to see me, all of me, and still want me around. I
just want a family.”

“Well, it sounds like you’re on your way to having that.”

“I hope so.” It had felt that way. Tim and Nova had treated
him like he was meant to be there, and he’d gone home with Jesse and the kids
that night too.
Home.
In his head, he’d started to
toy with the idea of Jesse’s house being his home.

“And good riddance to that awful Bob and your mama.”

“Gran…”

“Shh.” She tugged on his jacket. “What? You in some kind of
hurry? Aren’t you going to stay a spell?”

“I have nowhere else I’d rather be today.”

“Then go on now. Take off your coat and make yourself
comfortable.”

Christopher hung it up on the small rack of pegs bolted into
the wall. It hosted an array of her sweaters and her long warm wool winter
coat. His navy peacoat looked huge next to her small things.

“You know what I think, Christopher?”

He sat again. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me, Gran.”

“I think maybe God wanted you to fail in Nashville so you’d
be there for Jesse to see up on that stage, shining down to light his way.”

“Gran, that’s like saying God wanted Marcy to end up brain
dead so that I could be with Jesse. I can’t believe in a God like that.”

Gran ran her fingers through Christopher’s hair, her
expression thoughtful. “What kind of God do you believe in Christopher?”

He was quiet a long moment before shrugging. “I guess I
believe in a God who gives us enough hope and joy to deal with the pain the
world doles out.”

“Write a song about that, baby, and sing it to me the next
time you come. Deal?”

Christopher smiled. “How did you know I was writing music
again?”

“I can see it in your face.” She touched the corners of his
eyes and then the edges of his lips. “You look inspired. First time in years.”

Christopher took her hands and kissed her fingers. Then he stood
and went back over to the rack of pegs. “I also came today because I have
something for you.” He fished in the pocket of his coat for a green and red
wrapped box. “Since I won’t be at Christmas this year and the next few weeks
are going to be slammed with shows at SMD, I wanted to give it to you now.”

He pulled his chair closer handed it to her. “Before you
open it, there’s a story behind it that I think you’ll appreciate—probably more
than the present itself.”

He related how he’d gone to Jesse to request the locket, and
how that had started it all. “In a way, Gran, any happiness I have with Jesse
now or in the future is because of you.”

Gran tsked and rolled her eyes, her gnarled fingers toying
with the green ribbon and sliding over the smooth red paper. “No, no. If you’ve
found happiness, you did it your own self, boy.”

She opened the wrapping carefully, like she always had,
making sure to preserve the paper for later use. The box Jesse had put the
locket in was black velvet, and when she snapped it open, she gasped and put
her hand to her chest. “Why, baby, this is beautiful!”