Christmas In Icicle Creek: Home For The Holidays

by Danni Lee Nicholls

  “You sure?” the woman asked.

  New pain rippled through Noelle’s heart as she stared at the opal turtles and golden chain. “Not anymore,” she whispered.

  The woman curled Noelle’s fingers around the necklace. “You keep it for now,” she said. “You can always bring it by some other time.”

  Relief punctuated Noelle’s pain, and she slipped the pendant back on before heading to the parking lot, where she sat in her car. The memory of this particular gift shone as bright as the Hawaiian sun.

  This gift did not come in a wrapped package over candlelight. Kendall gave her the turtles after she admired them in a store window while they walked the streets of Kona. When Noelle pointed to the pendant, Kendall hurried into the jewelry store without hesitancy while Noelle stood outside the door with her mouth open in speechless surprise. Within five minutes, Kendall returned and clasped the gift around her neck. Noelle was stunned and her knees were weak as they walked to the beach, where they watched the golden sun set on another paradisiacal day.

  Kendall pulled her close from behind. “No matter what happens, let’s always remember this moment,” he said as he leaned his head on her shoulder. As they stood together, his dark hair tickled her ear and the tang of salt water and sand met her nostrils as Kendall tightened his arms around her waist. His solid surfer’s body leaned against her, igniting her every nerve, offering her hope that maybe he really did love her, even if he never said the words.

  Noelle had kept silent about her desire to hear those words, afraid that Kendall would either scoff at her need for them or deny he felt any such thing.

  She would’ve never dreamt of talking to him with such blatant and irritated honesty as she did Tristan just yesterday, afraid their fragile relationship would shatter.

  Sighing, Noelle dropped her hand from the necklace and stared into the fire. Her thoughts threaded around Tristan and the secret yearnings so earnestly attached to him from so long ago. In the seven years since high school graduation, Noelle had done her best to put Tristan behind her, and she was successful—until now.

  Even sitting in her own living room with a cozy fire and her warm dog beside her, Noelle’s skin grew prickly and flush. She rubbed her arms. Was the pull toward Tristan just some unfinished residual wish from all those years ago, or was there a new sense of possibility that came from maturity?

  Well, the maturity was questionable. Tristan still made Noelle feel like a seventeen-year-old kid. Her heart fluttered every time he walked into a room. Only this wasn’t a high school crush. With the so-called maturity, the stakes were raised. Even now, she was alarmed at how honestly she shared her feelings with him and the undamming of some unknown torrent rushed through her, creating something unintended and undiscovered. It scared her a little. It also made her uneasy as she recalled their last conversation. She hadn’t been very kind. Shame colored her cheeks as she remembered how she had stepped over Tristan’s current saving of Sampson and traded it for the hurt feelings of seven years ago.

  Placing her hand over her heart, she felt its beat rise up, strong and steady, much like Tristan’s. Closing her eyes, Noelle recalled the feel of Tristan’s heat through his shirt as she’d placed her hand on his chest, his heart beating just below skin, muscle, and bone. He had covered her hand with his own. Even in those brief few minutes, there was a familiarity between them that astonished her. She loved the strength of his hands and the roughness of his skin. It tapped into some deep well of tenderness.

  She looked up to see her brother enter the room, and she was grateful for the distraction. He settled beside her on the other side of Sampson. “How did work go yesterday?”

  Noelle left her thoughts behind. “Fine. Busy as usual.”

  “Did you work with Tristan?”

  She tried to keep her voice neutral. “Yeah. I trained him for a little while in the morning.”

  “And …?”

  Noelle looked at her little brother over the sleeping Sampson with a hint of irritation. This was not the distraction for which she was hoping. “And what? I trained him. He went off to work with George, and I held down the fort. End of story.”

  “Did the two of you talk?”

  “Yep. We talked about how to check guests out and how to flag a problem guest.” The less her little brother knew, the better.

  “Will you be working with him again?”

  Noelle worked on practicing patience. “Yeah. But after next week, we should be done.”

  Her brother shook his head. “Can’t you extend that time? I mean, here’s a perfect opportunity for you to start seeing someone other than Kendall. Someone I actually like, I might add, and I know he’ll ask you out.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. He already asked me out, and I said no.” A ping of remorse sounded in her heart.

  “What for? He’s perfect for you, Nissy. How do you expect me to help you find myself a brother-in-law if you won’t date perfectly perfect guys? He’s way better than Kendall.”

  Noelle laughed, trying to keep things light. “Oh, I get it! You think you should choose my boyfriend for me. Is that it?”

  “Well, there’s no denying I’d do a better job!”

  Noelle continued to grin. “My wiser younger brother.”

  “And don’t you forget it, either. After all, you have me to thank for Sampson. I know that a puppy can mend any broken heart.”

  Noelle pulled the puppy close. “Well, now, I have to admit you’re right about that.”

  Her brother held out his palm. “That’ll be fifty bucks, please.”

  Noelle gave him a look of disbelief. “That’s pricey for seventeen-year-old advice, don’t you think?”

  “How about a twenty?”

  Noelle shook her head.

  “Didn’t I tell you? I’m charging for advice these days, but you’re family, so I’m giving you a price break.”

  Noelle wanted to laugh. Instead, she gently pushed her brother in the shoulder. “Don’t you have some homework to do or something?”

  Giving Sampson one last pat, Cory stood. “As a matter of fact, I do, but don’t think you’re getting out of paying my fee,” he teased. “I know where you live, so I’ll just send you a bill.” He wandered out of the room. Noelle listened as he moved up the stairs before turning her full attention back to the fire that popped and sizzled.

  Noelle breathed with relief as her brother wandered out of the room. She loved him dearly, but sometimes she wished he didn’t know her so well. And she wished he’d quit bringing up Tristan and Kendall. She didn’t appreciate the comparisons he kept making. She treasured her memories of Kendall in the safe vault of her heart and wished to keep them under lock and key. She didn’t like how her little brother was pushing her to see more of Tristan while exposing her precious recollections of Kendall in the unknown light of scrutiny.

  Chapter 7

  The following week, Tristan walked the orchard. In the weakening October sun, he looked over individual trees to check for health and vitality. When the leaves dropped in a couple of weeks, he would have to clean around the trees one last time, but for now everything was in good shape. Glancing over the land, he hoped his father would be proud of what he and his mother had made of the orchard.

  Tristan touched the gnarled trunk of one of his Gala apple trees. The gentle autumn sun warmed the bark. He loved this place, but he hadn’t always been happy in Icicle Creek. Right out of high school, he’d been anxious to leave the tiny and confining enclave of his hometown. Back then, his only concern was the mess he was leaving behind with Courtney. He’d wanted to continue their teenage romance, and in his schoolboy dreams, he’d wanted to marry her. Even though he was moving to Arizona, he’d fully believed they could maintain a long-distance romance. He’d promised to visit often and they would use technology for daily contact. But she gave him the ultimatum. If he didn’t stay in Washington State for his education, she would break up with him. He was stung by her harsh requirements, and Trista
n was sure the loss of Courtney so close to the death of his father would be his undoing, but he couldn’t give in to her manipulation.

  Courtney was the prettiest cheerleader on the squad, but before their breakup, there was so much more to her than beauty. She had a compassionate heart, especially for the elderly patients she visited at the local nursing home. Once a week, she would take her little dog, Bangles, to visit with those who lived at the Montgomery Meadows nursing home. She even dragged Tristan to a few of those visits, and he was mesmerized by Courtney’s gentle ease among the elderly. She would place Bangles on the bed, and the little old dog would snooze while Courtney listened to each individual story about pets long since dead while they stroked her small dog. These moments always left Tristan feeling awkward while Courtney sailed through her visits with ease and joy. He loved her for that.

  Tristan had fully expected her to go to college with a major in healthcare or maybe elder care. Instead, once Bangles died and she and Tristan graduated from high school, Courtney stopped volunteering. The photographer responsible for her senior pictures had mentioned her attractive good looks and encouraged her to pursue a career in modeling. That was the beginning of the end of the Courtney Tristan loved, although he hadn’t known it.

  When Tristan came home from Arizona, he’d anticipated the same sweet young woman he loved back in high school. He was so grateful she was still in Icicle Creek, and it didn’t take long before the two of them were once again a couple. Tristan basked in the warmth of her familiarity. It pulled at him until he was spilling his story about James and his own brush with the law while in Arizona. Courtney listened earnestly and treated him with honest sympathy and without judgment while Tristan clung to her like a welcome sanctuary in the middle of an Arizona sandstorm.

  In some ways, she’d treated him with the same gentle love and concern he’d remembered from her days at the nursing home, and he’d wondered if he had become weak and incapable in her eyes. There was no doubting the losses that were stacking up in Tristan’s life made him feel old and helpless. But the renewal of his relationship with Courtney offered him hope for a resurrected future. Courtney’s compassion saved him from the black hole of despair, and he swam in her grace like an oasis in the sand dunes of grief and ruin.

  But after a while, cracks began to show in their seamless reunion. Courtney’s new hobby of modeling became her only real interest, and she spent most of her time mastering new poses and wondering how many people noticed her social media posts. He grew tired of her conversation revolving around the comments and attention she received on Facebook and Instagram from people who were inviting her to the shallow end of life. Tristan agonized over these changes. After eighteen months, he and Courtney parted ways amicably, leaving him with the itch of misgiving around his decision to tell her about the events that led to a federal prison sentence for his best friend, James, and his own narrow escape from a neighboring cell.

  James. Guilt coursed through Tristan as his thoughts turned to his college roommate. Even on Courtney’s best day, she couldn’t save Tristan from the regret that was always pulsing through his veins, mingling with his blood, and fusing his past with his present and future.

  He and James were dorm roommates, and because they shared the same major, they took many of the same classes, especially during their last two years of undergrad work. They studied together and went out on group dates. They worked hard and they played hard, and in the beginning, Tristan considered himself lucky to have fallen into James’s orbit.

  James encouraged the best out of Tristan. Everything was a contest to James. Who could get the best grade? Who could date the most women? Who could drink the most beer? Who would make the greatest amount of money?

  For some contests, Tristan’s name didn’t enter the ring. He wasn’t interested in seeing how much beer he could drink before passing out, especially after the death of his dad. He didn’t care how many women James dated. Even though Tristan wasn’t tied down to Courtney during his time in Arizona, he knew how tender a relationship could be, and he didn’t want to get caught up in the revolving door of dates and cheap beer brands. Tristan chose to ignore that seamy side of James.

  However, in school he and James went head-to-head over grades, and later, when they were working for the same brokerage firm, they traded first place when it came to clients and money. Who could bring in and maintain the highest number of clients and grow their portfolios, and by so doing make the most money? Their efforts to best one another crowded out any grief Tristan felt around his dad, and he reveled in his newfound freedom.

  Tristan and James were considered the young guns of Davis and Martin, a new and upcoming financial company that was challenging the old guard. Both young men relished the role of risk-takers that could pay off in big ways. Their clients loved them, and their bosses loved their cocky confidence. Until they didn’t.

  Tristan stopped his walk among his orchard. Anxiety swelled within him as the Arizona memories closed around. He clung to one of his trees as his rapid breathing of the cool mountain air came in swallowing gasps.

  He could still smell the stuffy and dusty federal courtroom as he watched James slump where he stood, taking in the seven-year prison sentence from the judge. Even now, miles and years from those memories, the familiar red shame engulfed Tristan, creeping up from his belly and filling every cell. A slick sweat covered him.

  Taking several controlled breaths of the cooling mountain air, Tristan willed his heart to slow. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, running his hand along the bark of his apple tree to help him find the bedrock of the present moment. The rough wood under his hands pulled him out of his past. When he opened his eyes, he focused his gaze on Icicle Creek and its meandering pathway through his property. The creek offered him a sense of peace. His breath softened, and he inhaled and exhaled through his nose.

  His phone beeped. A text from his mom. She was heading into Wenatchee to run some errands. Did he need anything from town?

  He texted back, asking her if she’d like some company, since he was finished in the orchard. Tristan didn’t wait for her reply. Turning from the orchard, he hurried back to the house to find his mom in the car with the motor running. The short walk did him good, and he slid into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt.

  As his mom swung the car around, Tristan studied the house. Just under four thousand square feet, it was too big for just him and his mother. But the remodeling job was one of the last acts of his father. Tristan saw his little touches everywhere. “I love this house,” Tristan said as his mom pulled from the drive.

  “I know.” His mother gave Tristan’s knee a pat. “Your dad loved this place, too. We always thought we’d fill those rooms with your brothers and sisters.” She pushed on the gas. “But it wasn’t to be, I guess.”

  Memories of his father flashed across Tristan’s mind like a brilliant movie. “Do you miss him, still?”

  His mother glanced at Tristan. “Every single day,” she said. “Even though it’s been eight years since your dad passed away, I don’t think I’ll ever quite get over the loss of him. I loved your father very much.” A small smile curved on his mother’s lips. “And he loved me. I hold that reality very dear. Not every woman is so blessed.”

  Tenderness filled Tristan as he gazed at his mother. There was no doubt she had aged in the last few years, but she took care of the apple trees as well has his dad had, and she was his staunch supporter in all things.

  Carolyn met Tristan’s gaze and smiled. “Have I told you how happy I am to have you home?”

  A comfortable fondness settled in Tristan’s heart, rooting out the earlier anxiety. “Only about a hundred times,” he replied.

  “Well, I am. You’re a big help to me, and I love your company. It’s nice my adult child grew up to be someone I love to be around.”

  Tristan laughed before growing somber.

  Carolyn glanced at Tristan. “I wish you didn’t think about what happene
d in Arizona so much.”

  Tristan looked down at his hands in his lap. He hated to talk about the thing that occupied so much of his thoughts, but he was also grateful. “I feel so bad about it all,” he said. “The least being that I now have a degree in a field in which I’ll probably never work again. A field that was paid for by Dad’s life insurance. It doesn’t seem like a very good way to honor his legacy or his memory.”

  “Do you think that would’ve concerned your father?”

  Tristan looked at his mom, who met his eyes briefly before turning back to the road.

  “Your dad would’ve asked you one question when you came home. What did you learn from it? He would not have you blame yourself for James’s decisions. And make no mistake about it, Tris: it was James’s own decisions that landed him in jail. You had no hand in that.”

  Tristan was silent, but his thoughts were in turmoil. He tried to picture his father’s reaction to the Arizona story, but he always came up blank. It exasperated him that he couldn’t remember his father well enough to be able to pull up any sort of response that would come from him around James.

  His mother braked the car as she came to a stoplight. “Did James call you again?”

  Tristan’s guard went up. “Yeah. He tried last night, but I didn’t catch it.”

  His mother tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “What on earth can he have to talk about from Federal Prison in Tucson? The great food?”

  His mom could never understand why he kept in touch with James. Tristan chose his words carefully so as to not give too much away. “I think he just wants some decent conversation,” Tristan tried to explain. “Plus, I think most everyone around him speaks Spanish. I think it’s nice for him to hear his own language from a … from a friend.”

  His mother eased her foot on the gas, moving the car forward. “Look, I know you’re a grown-up and can make your own decisions around his so-called friendship, but I don’t like how his phone calls keep pulling you back to that same old mistake that he made. It’s as if he wants to pull you into it somehow. And mark my words, Tris: there will come a day when he’ll ask something of you. So you’d better be ready for it.”