by Raquel Belle
“So, Jazz, it’s really great to have you back for the holidays,” Trisha says, as she leans back.
And the feelings settle after she speaks. I’m almost grateful. Almost.
“Yeah, it is. This was a much-needed break,” I say, and glance up at Trip who’s looking at the field, as if he isn’t listening intently to the conversation. I know better, and I know he understands my hidden meaning directed at him. By the look on Trisha’s face, she does too, and she curls her lips into a smile.
“I don’t blame you,” she says. “He makes a great father, and isn’t he hot?”
“What? Trisha!” Trip says.
I giggle. “That he is.”
She winks at him and turns around. “One-hundred percent.”
“You two, don’t even start,” Trip says. “This isn’t high school, and I don’t have my wingman to have my back.”
“Right,” Trisha says, and her lips tighten. “Oh, look, they’re about to begin.”
They begin a grand display on the field with ropes and men on stilts while they meticulously put the tree and all its parts together. The crowd hoots, cheers and whistles when the tree comes together in the center of the platform.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer’s voice comes over the speaker. “Are you ready for it?”
“Yeah!”
“I can’t hear you!” He yells back.
“YEAH!”
He turns to the men standing next to the platform. “Okay, boys. They’re ready for it.” They give the thumbs up sign, and then the countdown begins. “Five…four…three…two…one! Light ‘em up!”
The crowd cheers again as the tree comes to life and we all stand and applaud. The tree really is beautiful, and fireworks accompany the town’s new beacon for the remainder of the holidays.
“I want a snow cone!” Kyle shouts and points at a vendor standing to the right of the field. They’re scattered along the edges of the grassy stretch, and patrons are already walking off to take pictures with the tree and to get refreshments.
“Fine. Come along,” Trisha tells the boys and stands. “Trip, take Kyle with you.” She walks off, like it’s a given that he will, or should—or that it’s his job.
But it’s not my place—they have a system that works for them. I don’t want to get in the way when I’ll be leaving soon anyway. I’ll see Trip on my own time—and on his.
But…the entire time we’re on the field, she never leaves his side, and eventually, I begin to feel like the other woman.
Chapter Thirteen
Jasmine
It’s Christmas!
I open my eyes, and that’s the first thought that comes to mind. But there’s no gentle, fluffy snow floating outside my window.
There’s no caroling, no bright lights, and no honking horns. Just the sweet scent of Mom’s cooking and the airy sound of Silent Night sneaking underneath my door.
This is going to be a good one, and I fling the covers back and hop out of bed like I’m twelve again and anxious to see what’s under the tree for me.
It’s 7:36, and the house is already alive with music and the hurried steps of my mother as she crisscrosses the room, setting the already-staged poinsettias, lighting candles, and triple-checking the dinnerware.
“Mom, relax,” I say after observing her for a couple of minutes.
“I can’t. I have to make sure everything is okay,” she says, as she balances a tray of cookies.
“Cookies, Mom? I know of only two boys that are coming,” I say and lean against the kitchen archway.
She smiles. “That’s exactly why I made them.”
And it goes on like that until the guests begin to arrive. She’d actually invited more people than I knew. It’s like Dad said—the entire town, and I’m stuck with greeting all of them and playing nice. This isn’t the role I’m used to, but I smile and direct well over a dozen people into the large dining room, and when that’s full, to the entertainment room.
All the while, I’m experiencing heart palpitations waiting to see the familiar truck roll up outside. I’m nervous and anxious—more than I should be—and by the time dinner is about ready to be served, I’m balancing on some pretty frayed nerves.
I sneak away to my room—I’ve only got a couple of minutes before Mom notices I’m missing—and call him. “Trip, where are you? I thought you’d be here by now. Mom’s about to start serving dinner.”
“Sorry, babe. Turns out Trisha came down with something, so I’m at her place now minding the boys.”
“Oh, no.” My heart sinks. “Is she okay?” I cringe and wait for his answer.
“Yeah, I guess. Maybe just a bug. It’ll pass, but I’m still trying to give the boys a great Christmas. Well…as good as I can.”
“That’s sweet of you,” I tell him, but I’m not feeling the words I’m saying. I feel like a terrible person for wishing he was with me rather than over there with them, and I quickly banish the thought before it takes root. “Rain check?”
“Definitely. Maybe I’ll come see you after.”
“I’d like that,” I say and heave an exasperated sigh. “Merry Christmas, Trip.”
“Merry Christmas, Jazz.”
The line goes dead, and so does my heart. I stand in the middle of the room, feeling crushed over a man I’ve been coaching myself to forget.
“Jazz? Are you in here?” Mom calls from the hallway before she sticks her head through the door. “We’re about to start.”
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
Her eyes droop when she sees the dull look on my face. “Trip’s not coming?”
“No, he’s with the boys. Trisha’s not feeling well.”
“Oh…” Mom says. “That’s a shame.”
It sure is, my selfish side thinks sarcastically. And then I hate myself for it again. It’s the first time since early this morning that I don’t feel bad about being a hostess. It’s a useful distraction right through dinner to keep fetching items for the guests.
I can’t get Trip off my mind entirely though, and halfway through dinner, when several of the guests are done eating, I escape to my room again and call Cara. I need to vent to someone, or I’m going to implode.
“Hi, hun,” she says on the other end. “Merry Christmas!”
I sigh. “You, too, Cara.”
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong? No fun in Willow Creek?”
“You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had,” I say and throw myself face-down onto the bed. “I’m a mess.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
I can hear music playing in the background on her end, and the happy sounds of chatting and laughter. “Remember Trip? You know, Michael Tucker?”
“That guy you told me about after Grace had her meltdown with Nick, right? Your high school sweetheart who went off to war, god bless his heart?”
“The very same. Well, guess what? He’s back.”
“Wait! Let me move!” Cara says hurriedly, and the sounds of laughter die in the background. I hear a click, like a door, which means she’s alone now. “He’s back? Oh my God! That’s wonderful. So, what’s the problem? You should be all over him now.”
“I’d love to be, but he isn’t here.”
“What? Why? Is there another woman?”
I giggle at her tone. “No, not like you think. Just Trip being Trip—all noble. His best friend died on their last tour, so now he’s adopted his family—the man’s wife and four-year old twin boys.”
“Aww,” Cara says. “That’s so sweet of him.”
“And now I’m alone.” I can’t even believe the words coming out of my mouth. A couple of days ago I was hellbent on detaching myself emotionally from Trip. Now, I’m a drooling mess because he hasn’t shown up for dinner. “Both him and her were supposed to come to dinner, but she came down with something, so he’s there trying to help her with the boys and to make sure they have a good Christmas too.”
“That’s nice,” Cara says in an understanding way. “We
ll, are you friends with her?”
“Yeah, sort of, we used to hang out a lot back in high-school,” I say, and sit up. “Why?”
“Because maybe there’s a way to fix this. Just take some food over to them. You help them out with a caring gesture…and you get to see Trip.”
“I’m so glad I called you,” I say excitedly as my heart starts racing. “I didn’t even think about doing that. Are you sure it won’t make me look clingy?”
“Oh, please…” Cara says, and I can see her waving me off. “It’s not like they’re together or anything, and if she’s not feeling well then she probably wouldn’t have made Christmas dinner. You’ll be doing a good thing for them.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. So, I’m going to take your advice then.”
She laughs. “Look at you, Miss I-don’t-need-a-man.”
I can’t help laughing, too. “I don’t need a man. I just want this one.”
She laughs harder.
Knock! Knock! I hear a sound in her background. “Cara, are you in here?”
“That’s me. Gotta go,” she whispers. “In here, Jason.”
“Okay, talk to you later. And tell Jason hi for me.”
“Will do,” she says and hangs up.
I’m bubbling over as I skip to the kitchen and search for containers to make up a Christmas picnic basket.
“Where are you off to?” Mom asks as she enters the kitchen.
“Trisha’s. She’s sick, so Trip is there with her. I thought I’d bring them some food since we have enough for the town.”
Mom laughs. “Good idea. Let me help you.”
And that she does—my previously conceived ‘small basket’ turns out to be half of a turkey, all the cookies she baked, collard greens, mashed potatoes, half of a cake, rice and beans, and eggnog.
I’m staring at the stash in front of me in wonderment. “This seems fit for a zombie apocalypse.”
Mom snickers. “She’ll have enough for a couple of days.”
“In that case, I’m going to need Dad’s wheelbarrow.”
“Oh, stop,” she says. “I’ll ask him to help you to the car.”
Dad’s there in a couple of minutes and it’s not long before I’m pulling up outside Trisha’s house. I’m anxious because no one knows I’m coming, but I want it to be a surprise. Although…sometimes surprises aren’t always good, or appreciated. And I should know—I’ve had my share of disappointments by way of surprises—like my last boyfriend surprising me with dark chocolate that gave me a stomach bug for days.
I can only fit the cake and cookies in my hand when I walk up to the door and ring the bell. Trip answers the door.
“Jazz?” He says, as his face lights up. “What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t think I was going to spend Christmas without you, right?” I say, and reach up to give him a quick kiss.
His eyes get dreamy-looking and he clears his throat. “I wasn’t expecting this. What do you have there?”
“Oh, just a mini-feast.”
“Who is it?” One of the boys says and runs up to the door. The pitter-patter of his twin’s feet follows, and soon two curly heads are poking out through the gap between Trip and the door.
“Hi boys,” I say, as I smile at them and bend over. “Guess what I have for you?”
“Cake?” Kyle says.
Conrad grins. “No, ice-cream.”
“Cake and cookies!” I say and lower the basket. “Who wants to help me with it?”
“Me!” They both clamor and reach for the basket.
“Okay, but you have to be really careful, or you’ll ruin them, okay?”
“Okay,” they say in unison again.
I let them take the basket, and they walk slowly inside, four hands framing the basket like they’re in an egg-and-spoon race.
Trip laughs. “Come on, let me help you with the rest of the stuff. This was really nice of you, Jazz. I’m sure Trisha will really appreciate it. She didn’t make much of a dinner.”
“It’s no problem,” I say, as we get to the Prius.
I feel him right behind me, and when I pull back, I crash right into his waiting arms. He pulls me to him and crushes his lips to mine. He steals my breath away, and I cling to his arms and get lost in fiery passion once more.
“You have got to stop doing that,” I say, breathing heavily when he lets me go.
He grins. “Never.”
And I believe him. I shake my head and retrieve the items from the car and pass them to him. He stacks everything and walks off, and I follow him. The boys are rummaging around in the basket trying to get to the cookies when we get inside the house.
“Trip? What…?” Trisha appears from the hallway wearing her bathrobe, with her hair looking disheveled. “Oh, Jazz…”
“Yeah, just me. I brought some stuff for you guys since you weren’t able to make it,” I say and show her the food. “Merry Christmas, by the way.”
She smiles weakly. “Yeah, thanks. Merry Christmas.” She lumbers over to the table and peeks inside the items Trip is unloading. “Smells good.”
“Yeah, now we can eat some real food,” he says, and winks at her, and I notice that she clenches her jaws briefly.
“It’s good to see you again, Jazz,” she says, glancing up.
“You too. I’m sorry I didn’t get the boys anything. I’m going to have to go to Nashville to do that.”
She waves me off and sits down hard on the chair. “You don’t have to worry about them.” She looks me up and down, obviously analyzing my outfit. “You plan to go to Nashville in those shoes?”
I look down at my peep-toe flats. “What’s wrong with my shoes?”
“Nothing, if you’re in New York,” she says, as she makes a crack at my attire. “You can’t walk these streets with those, or heels.”
She isn’t looking at me, but she does have a point. “Nah, I wouldn’t wear these. I have tennis shoes.”
“So, how about this food? Trisha, you can go lay back down if you like,” Trip says.
“No, I’m good,” she says and stands spritely. “I’ll go make a plate for you.”
“Thanks, but I can manage. I’ll handle the boys.”
He goes to the kitchen, and my eyes fasten to his backside. He’s wearing jeans again and a navy tank. His muscles ripple as he flexes them to get the items out of the bag, and it’s even worse when he walks around the kitchen. There’s nothing sexier than seeing a man inside the kitchen, even though Trip doesn’t really know how to cook.
Maybe that’s what makes it even more of a turn on, and I’m staring, without realizing it. I don’t notice until Trisha clears her throat and pulls my eyes off of him and back to her.
“Sorry I couldn’t come over,” she says. “I’ve just been working so hard. Things got on top of me, and this is the result.”
“I know what you mean. I’m a personal banker on Wall Street, which says it all. Those money bags have huge demands, and I end up working late most nights. Even when I’m home I’m called all the time. They don’t believe in personal time.”
“How did you get this much time off?”
I laugh. “Luck! They’re all off vacationing in the islands or on cruises or hiking in Peru.” I roll my eyes. “Either way, I’m glad, but trust me…” I lean towards her, as if I’m about to tell her a secret. “They’ll be gunning for me.”
She sighs. “That’s good. It seems the city is good for you, unlike me. It’s been hard. I never thought I’d be doing this alone. We didn’t even plan for this pregnancy, and I got twins.”
I have no idea what to say to her. I can see how distraught she is, and working at the diner can’t be giving her many options.
“Trisha, if you ever need help with anything,” I say, “I’m just a call away.”
She looks up, and her pride filters through. “I’m not looking for a handout, Jazz. Just to get by on my own.” Her head moves, and she checks out Trip in the kitchen. “I’m just glad
he’s here.”
I feel a pang of something unrecognizable inside me. It’s not jealousy. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel crappy, like I’m robbing her of the only help she has.
“Anyway, let’s forget about this. I made my bed, so here I lie in it,” she says and smiles awkwardly as she stands.
“Dinner’s served,” Trip says when he walks into the room, balancing three plates in his hands.
I laugh. “Oh, a regular juggler. You could get a job as a server.”
“Good to know I have a backup,” he says, and then grins, flashing perfect white teeth at me.
“I think I’m going to head out,” I tell Trisha when she’s seated and eating.
“Trisha, that goes for me, too, seeing as you’re all taken care of now and feeling better.”
I look over at Trip, and it’s like he’s pleading with her to release him so he can go with me. She can’t stop him if he wants to leave, but he’s too decent to do anything else.
“Yeah, you can go. Thanks again, Jazz,” she smiles briefly and looks back down at her plate.
I walk off with Trip behind me, his boots resounding heavily on the wooden floor, as we step outside, and he closes the door behind us.
Chapter Fourteen
Trip
We’re quiet all the way to the car.
Something’s eating at her, but I’m not sure what, and I’m reluctant to ask and ruin the warm feeling that’s been building inside me ever since she showed up on the porch.
“I’m afraid to ask,” I eventually say when she gets behind the wheel.
“Ask what?”
“Why you have that long face.” I’m resting my head on my forearm on the roof of the car, and looking down at her face.
Jazz sighs. “Oh… Just that conversation I had with Trisha. Things are really rough for her, aren’t they?”
Now it’s my time to sigh. “Yeah.” I raise my head and rub my hand through my thick hair. “She tries, though. But it’s hard with two young boys, and she has to work and all.”
“I know,” Jazz says.
I rap my knuckles on the roof of the car. “Go on. I’ll follow you.”