by Susan Sands
Christmas had always been special for the two of them growing up. Their families shared meals during the holidays and joined in all the events happening in Ministry. They’d often been together the entire season.
“Do you remember the time they made an ice-skating rink and I broke my wrist?” Bailey asked.
He nodded and grimaced. “How could I forget? You were skating backward and showing off if I recall.”
“Just because you couldn’t do it doesn’t mean I was showing off.” Bailey tried to defend her unfortunate missteps on the ice.
“I think there might have been a spin involved, so yeah, showing off.” He rolled his eyes, and laughed.
“You sat in the emergency room for two hours with me and waited,” she said, smiling.
He remembered how worried he was that she would need surgery and that it was her right hand. “I knew it would interfere with your writing. And I wanted to be the first one to sign your cast.”
“My writing. Only you would have worried about that.” She smiled at him in an almost sad way.
“Do you still write?” he asked. Suddenly he needed to know if she’d continued doing what she loved most.
“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” began to play. They’d managed to find a somewhat quiet spot to talk on a bench. “I haven’t in a while. I’ve got a couple screenplays; stories I know would be fantastic if I could take some time and finish. I can’t sit down and dedicate my attention to it the way I’d like these days.”
“You used to say, ‘I can write anywhere, anytime.’” His recall of her saying this was so clear. He remembered them finding her curled up in one of the cabins, her notebook open, pen swept aside, sound asleep. Aames had called Seth worried about her because she wasn’t in her bed one night. Aames assumed Bailey was with Seth. The temps were below freezing that night. Fortunately, she’d thought to light the kerosene heater in the cabin.
He reminded her about the cabin incident.
A wistful smile moved across her lips. “I nearly forgot about that. I was so dedicated to my art back then,” she said. “Now, it’s almost like I’m afraid it would overtake me if I fall into it. It’s such a powerful thing, the allure of writing.”
“It’s your passion, Bailey. Maybe it’s even your hole filler. Have you ever thought of that?” he suggested. The Bailey he remembered could lose herself for hours in her writing and only stop when the light disappeared. She mostly wrote outdoors, preferring natural light and a pen and paper.
“It’s not a practical thing. It’s something I can’t do while I work toward my professional goals.”
“Maybe that is the goal,” he said. “To do the thing you love most.”
“I can’t. It’s only a dream. And dreams don’t pay the bills. Period,” she said.
Chapter Eleven
Bailey took a moment to speak to Maureen Laroux and said a quick hello to Matthew Pope, her contact here in Ministry before heading back to the apartment. Seth insisted on walking her “home.”
The evening had been beautiful by all accounts. The Christmas tree was magical, as it always had been, and the town was a veritable postcard, the only thing missing being a few inches of snow. And judging by the falling temps and forecast, that might change at any time. But Bailey’s emotions ran high, despite the flawless kickoff to Christmas.
Seth’s deliberations had gotten under her skin. He’d ripped off some festering scabs, not to be gross. But that’s what he’d done. Right here in this perfect town with its perfect Christmas façade. While the carols played.
Bailey was once again vulnerable here in Ministry. He’d made her face her failure. She wasn’t living her best life, though for a long time this path she’d been on was the one Bailey believed would get her where she needed to go. Eventually. Wouldn’t it still? Once she had the promotion? More money? Less busywork that would allow her to write more often?
What was she truly working toward? A nicer place to live? A better schedule? She would still travel to locations after things were in place, but then would bear a heavier burden of responsibility to the studio in the next position. Right now her responsibility was to her immediate boss, who answered to the studio.
Would she still sacrifice her writing and her dreams to the next level of employment? It was something Bailey had squashed along the road to success and financial stability.
“Are you alright?” Seth asked as she unlocked the outer door to her temporary home. “You’re quiet.”
“What? Sure. I’m fine. Thanks for seeing me home safely, Sheriff.” She tried to dismiss her deep thoughts so as not to alert him that he’d opened up this can of uncertainty and provoked her heart and mind into going places she hadn’t in years.
And Seth, who was so kind to her, had admitted how much she’d hurt him and how he’d missed her through the years. That wasn’t a portal to their past Bailey would allow herself to enter. Even though she’d cracked a tiny bit tonight by apologizing for her part in his pain. That unexpected tear. Allowing those special and poignant memories to creep in.
But the deep dive into her feelings for Seth? Nope. No way. It was immaterial. They had no future. No sense slogging through that.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he said in his best Southern drawl, which did nothing for her determination to not think about him. “You get some sleep.”
As she shut the door, Bailey decided the next four weeks couldn’t go by quickly enough. She could return to L.A. and get back to eating better and exercising daily again. The humidity here was killing her hair, even on a cold day.
Plus, she wouldn’t have Seth McKay as part of her daily routine, something she’d never have believed possible again in her lifetime. It had shoved her off her game.
As she entered the apartment, she realized that Alexis was sound asleep, with the television turned off. Bailey could hear the soft sounds of the crowd dispersing outside and barely see the tree lights filtering through their window. It was all—comforting.
She decided that after the long, physically grueling few days they’d put in, calling it a night made sense. Maybe she’d be able to put her unsettling thoughts on hold and get some sleep. Though sleep hadn’t been an issue for her since coming here. It was like someone had slipped a tranquilizer in her water every night before bedtime.
Bailey had to admit, the last thing she remembered before conking out, was the piercing blue eyes of the long, tall drink of water, otherwise known as Sheriff Seth McKay.
*
“Hey there, sugar. So glad you found a little time to come out and visit.”
“I told you I’d come out when I could,” Bailey said. Groucho ran over and licked her hand like a real gentleman, so she rewarded him with lavish attention, which got entire backside and tail wagging in delight.
Today might be the only day Bailey would have to spend a little time at home with Daddy before the cast and crew arrived, so she’d left Alexis to run a few errands and grab the last-minute items they still needed to spruce up the cabins for the crew. Alexis also wanted to do some exploring around town.
“Things are coming together so I thought I’d stop by.” Today was Sunday, so Daddy was usually home all day doing yard work, laundry, and basically getting ready for the week ahead. She knew this because they usually spoke on Sunday, as it was her day off as well. He’d invited her to dinner, which happened earlier on Sunday, usually midday.
“The pot roast is in the oven already, along with the potatoes and carrots. Joella and Seth will be along in about an hour. Hope that’s alright.” He said this as he turned toward the kitchen, not waiting for her response.
“Um, I guess. Do you need any help finishing up?” she asked.
“Nope. I’ve got it all under control.” He smiled at her. “How do you feel about going up in the attic and looking through some things?”
Something fluttered inside her belly. It wasn’t exactly fear. Worry? Anxiety? But a little thrill too. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have
a look.”
“I’ll go ahead and check for spiders if you want,” Daddy said.
“That’s okay. I’ll bring a broom and knock down any webs if I see them,” Bailey said. She didn’t love spiders but she wasn’t deathly afraid of them like a lot of people she knew.
“I haven’t changed the light bulb in forever but last I checked, it worked. Everything’s pretty much how it’s been since you left home.”
“What about Momma’s things?” Bailey dared to ask.
“I haven’t bothered her things either. They’re all covered with sheets, same as they’ve been since she passed, sugar. It’s all yours now.”
Bailey didn’t know what to say about that. Daddy never could bear to talk about Momma much. A little comment here and there. He’d grieved so hard when she died.
“Let me know what treasures you find,” he said and winked at her.
“A lot of dust is what it sounds like I’m gonna find,” Bailey said with a laugh, trying to camouflage her nerves as humor as she headed toward the walk-up stairs to the attic door.
As Bailey climbed them, the stairs creaked, each one with a unique timbre. She envisioned doll heads staring at her with empty eye sockets. The attic. A setting for nearly every scary movie—ever.
The door stuck a little, but probably less than it would have in summer with higher humidity. It was pitch dark and smelled a little musty. Bailey reached for a light switch, which she found on the right side. A bare bulb was installed dead center on the rafter at the house’s roof peak. Daddy would have needed a pretty tall ladder to reach it. Good thing it still worked. There was enough light to illuminate the center of the somewhat large space, but the corners were hidden in darkness.
Bailey didn’t know where to start. It was as if someone planned to paint in here and had covered everything to protect it from getting splattered.
She pulled back a dust cover to reveal their old sofa; blue and red plaid, the one Bailey remembered throughout her lifetime in this house. Why had Daddy kept it and not tossed it when he’d gotten a new one? Yes, he was sentimental, but this thing was well past its prime.
And yet. Part of her wanted to lie down on it and inhale the past. Despite the stains from where she and Seth had eaten pizza together on it, knowing it was “against the rules.” Or the memories of her and Daddy doing a Star Wars binge. Bailey had spent her childhood on this sofa watching television and movies, and writing her own stories. It was a couch of memories. So, yes, she could understand why it was still here in the attic.
Bailey rolled back the dust cover into a tight ball so the actual dust would stay inside instead of dispersing into the air. That way, she could sit on the sofa while she looked through things as she found them. Next to uncover was the coffee table of the past. Same. And then the chair Daddy used to sit in. It was as if their living room had been moved into the attic. It warmed Bailey’s heart, while at the same time concerning her for Daddy’s state of mind in his inability to let go of the past.
The next items Bailey uncovered were a large stack of old photo albums and school yearbooks. A rush of nostalgia from her childhood threatened to overwhelm her.
“Bailey? You up here?” Seth called as he stepped through the doorway of the portal to the Boone family mausoleum.
Bailey held a photo album to her chest as he walked inside.
“Wow, it’s like I stepped back into the mid-nineties. It’s the Boone living room as it was,” Seth said as he looked around the somewhat dim area.
Bailey smiled, but her emotions were close to the surface. The past had been preserved here in some kind of perfect way that made her afraid to breathe. “It’s super weird, isn’t it?” she nearly whispered.
He came around to where she sat and noticed the yearbooks and photo albums. “Are you alright?”
She nodded but her tears weren’t far from the surface, so she said nothing. His presence was comforting but also added to the deep sentimental moment. He wisely didn’t push her by asking more questions.
Seth grabbed a yearbook from their high school and sat down beside her on the sofa. He thumbed through and let out a low whistle. “I haven’t seen these people in a long minute.”
He’d given Bailey just enough time to pull herself together by distracting her from her fragile moment. “What year is that?”
“Two thousand and seven. We were juniors.” He tilted the annual to show her a candid black-and-white shot of the two of them. Laughing together and holding hands.
Bailey sucked in her breath at the expression on her own face. The face of innocence and joy. Pure happiness unmarred by the intensity she’d carried around constantly, or had she? Maybe she’d misremembered some of that angst? No. She’d been angsty for sure. But perhaps she’d been happy too, possibly more so than she allowed herself to recall.
“I can’t believe I was ever that young. And look at you. Such a smooth baby face. Were you even shaving yet?” Bailey laughed, then, without thinking, reached up to Seth’s jaw and ran her fingers gently along the days’ worth of stubble. Warm and so different than the boy she remembered. But so appealing.
Seth covered her hand with his larger one. His face moved closer to hers. She felt a hint of his breath on her lips. Was he going to kiss her? Oh, she hoped so—
“Hey you two, dinner’s ready,” Daddy called, and instantly broke whatever spell of madness was happening between the two of them, thankfully. What was she thinking?
Bailey pulled away like she’d been tased. “Coming, Daddy.”
Seth didn’t say anything about her abrupt movement away from him, but she could see in his eyes that he was disappointed. He’d wanted to kiss her. And she’d been totally on board had it happened. In fact, Bailey’d made the initial move; she’d touched him first.
He cleared his throat. “Maybe we can look around more after dinner. Looks like some treasures still to be found in here.”
Bailey nodded. Somewhere up here was the real treasure; her mother’s things were hidden away under the years of other items and dust covers. And now that she’d begun the hunt through the past, Bailey wasn’t about to stop.
“I’m pretty determined to get through some of this stuff tonight. I don’t have a lot of time before the filming begins, and I’m not sure I’ll have the opportunity once that starts.”
“Then we’ve got our work cut out for us.” He pushed up his sleeves as if to show his willingness to do some heavy lifting. Then he frowned as if uncertain. “Unless you don’t want any help. I get it if this is something you need to do on your own.”
Did she want to tackle this attic alone? Part of her was afraid to show her fragility at what there was to uncover up here. But hadn’t Seth seen that before? His muscle would come in handy for sure. “I wouldn’t mind some help moving things around.”
“Then it’s a date. After we demolish your dad’s pot roast.”
She ignored his choice of words, and not the ones about the pot roast. “Thanks. You’ve been a lot of help since I’ve been back and I appreciate it.”
He sighed loudly. “I wish you’d stop telling me how much you appreciate my help. If I see you can use a hand, of course I’ll do what I can.”
“Would you rather I didn’t thank you and used you for labor?” Bailey laughed as she said it. They were entering the kitchen as they bantered back and forth.
“Sounds like the two of you are getting along fine,” Joella said, not bothering to hide her grin.
Both Seth and Bailey stared at her with no real response.
“Okay, okay. Don’t mind me. I’m sticking my foot in my mouth again.” Joella breezed past with a basket of rolls.
“Now, darlin’, don’t you let those young’uns make you feel bad. You were only stating the obvious,” Daddy said, in defense of his gal pal.
Bailey and Seth shared an eye roll at their parents’ goofy communicating around them, because neither Bailey nor Seth had said a word. Their parents were acting like lovesick old people.
/>
The pot roast was no joke though. Juicy and tender, and so flavorful; Bailey’d nearly forgotten how heavenly it was. She’d been away from that, if nothing else, for too long. Coming home, if only for the beef, would now be a priority moving forward. Now that she and Seth had broken the ice again, and avoiding that part of her past wasn’t entirely necessary, Bailey didn’t have such a sense of dread at the thought of coming home.
It was as if a dam had broken and all those reasons she’d heaped up for staying away suddenly evaporated, or no longer mattered like before. The pain of the place still stung from her childhood, from her mother’s disappearance (that’s what death felt like), but not the being present with those who were still here. Daddy, Seth, and Joella. That was okay now.
She couldn’t live here, of course, but now maybe she could visit from time to time. It was a nice realization.
“You’re smiling, sugar. Anything you want to share?” Daddy asked.
“The pot roast has made me realize I should come visit more often,” she said.
Daddy put a hand over his heart in dramatic fashion. “I’m hurt, I think. But if a hunk of meat will bring you home to us, I’ll make one anytime you get a hankering for it. I had no idea that’s all it would take,” he laughed.
Bailey pushed the last carrot around her plate. “It’s not just that. I’d forgotten how nice it was to sit around the table with family.”
“Well, darlin’, we are your family, and you’d best not forget it,” Joella said from across the table.
Seth remained quiet, but when Bailey sneaked a look, he appeared to be deep in thought.
“Anybody ready for dessert?” Daddy stood and began clearing plates now that they were all done with their main course.
Chapter Twelve
“I might need to nap on the plaid couch for a bit before moving anything,” Seth said, covering his belly with both hands to accentuate his fullness from dinner. Of course he had no belly beyond his washboard abs.
Bailey had no plans to tell him that though. “I haven’t eaten that much since the red beans and rice the night I got here. If I still lived here I’d have to figure out a way to control my portion intake and run twice as far, only uphill.”