Christmas in Bayberry

by Jennifer Faye

  “Not quite.” Kate moved to the kitchen. “We haven’t done the most important part.”

  “And what would that be?” Wes moved to the kitchen island and sat down.

  She removed the popcorn maker from beneath the cabinet and placed it on the counter. She didn’t say a word as she grabbed a container of kernels and a large bowl.

  “You want a time out for a snack?” he asked.

  “Not quite.” She filled the popcorn maker. “This is for the tree.”

  He’d thought stringing popcorn was something they did in the movies, not in real life.

  She smiled as the popcorn maker hummed in the background as it warmed up. She’d already gathered the supplies they’d need and placed them on the island.

  In no time, they were seated on the couch with a fresh bowl of popcorn between them. He wasn’t sure about this. He’d never made a popcorn string before. And he was not familiar with a needle and thread. He certainly felt like a fish out of water.

  “I don’t know about this,” he said, not wanting to make a fool of himself in front of her. Because it mattered what she thought of him. He hadn’t wanted to admit it before, but it was the truth.

  “Oh, come on. You can do this.” She moved the bowl onto her lap and shimmied closer to him on the couch. “Can you thread a needle?”

  “Uh…” He stared at the needle and thread.

  And then he watched her dampen the thread between her glossy lips. With ease, she put the thread through the eye of the needle. “See. Easy.”

  He skipped putting the thread in his mouth and went straight to aiming the thin thread through the impossibly small eye of the needle. His first try missed. The second try missed again. And the third try missed too.

  “Here.” Kate held out her hands to take the thread and needle. “Let me.”

  She didn’t have to ask him twice. He handed over the items. And again, she moistened the thread and easily threaded the needle.

  “You make that look so easy,” he said.

  “Practice. Lots of practice.”

  “Do you always do this?” Wes asked.

  “Always. It was something my mother used to do when I was a kid. She even got my father to join us. What I loved most about it was that we were all together.” She slid a piece of popcorn down the thread. “How about you?”

  He stabbed a popcorn kernel with the needle. It fell apart. He sighed as he glanced over at Kate. She made it look so easy. He reached for another kernel to try again. “How about me what?”

  “What are some of your favorite Christmas memories?”

  He stabbed at another kernel. It stayed on the thread, but barely. With care, he pulled it down the thread. “I don’t know.”

  “Surely you have to have one. Come on. Share.”

  He didn’t normally talk about his family holidays. Christmas had been different each year—different state, different city, different home. It was difficult to have traditions when you were always moving around. It was so different than Kate’s upbringing.

  “What is it with you and Christmas?” Wes asked.

  “What isn’t there to love about Christmas? There’s something magical in the air. Add a few snowflakes and it’s perfect.”

  “Perfect, huh?” He knew that if her beloved company went under, Christmas might never have that magical element for her again, and that saddened him. He’d never known anyone to be this excited over a holiday. He didn’t want to be responsible for stealing away that twinkle of merriment in her beautiful eyes.

  “Hey, you’re changing the subject. What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”

  He didn’t have to think really hard to find the answer. “My favorite Christmas memory was when I was four or so. We’d gone to visit my grandmother in Michigan. There was a bad snowstorm that took out the power, and my father built a fire in the fireplace. I was so worried that Santa wouldn’t be able to reach us, because he couldn’t come down the chimney with a fire burning. So my grandmother took me out to the garage with her. We carried a tall wooden ladder to the back of the house and leaned it against the back door. She told me, that way Santa could get down from his sleigh on the roof. We even left the back door unlocked. It was the last year I believed in Santa and she made it great. And in the morning, there were footprints on the roof.”

  “Aww…that’s a great memory.” Kate smiled.

  “It was.” He hadn’t thought about that Christmas in a long time.

  Back in those days, his parents had been happy. His father had been working a steady job in Ohio, and Wes had believed in happily-ever-afters. It wasn’t too long afterward, though, that Wes had learned what it was like to say goodbye to the only home he’d ever known. And from then on, he’d spent Christmas in a different city every year.

  At last, he was settled. So why was he wishing for things he didn’t have? He should be thankful for the opportunities presented to him and not thinking about how things could be so much different. He didn’t know if it was the cozy atmosphere of Bayberry or being around Kate, but the life he’d carved out for himself in New York no longer seemed like enough. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

  He finished the string of popcorn and then joined her at the tree. “It’s really coming together.”

  “Isn’t it? But we haven’t even started on the ornaments. I have so many I inherited from my parents, and then a bunch I added to the collection. So each Christmas I’m able to do a different theme.”

  There was something driving him to know her even better. “Kate, what happened to your parents?”

  She paused and gazed at him. The pain of loss reflected in her eyes. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. He immediately regretted his words.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No. It’s okay.” Her voice was soft. “It’s not like I didn’t dig into your past.” She turned back to add the string of popcorn he’d just finished to the tree. “I was fifteen, and it was autumn. My parents were on their way home from an evening in Boston. There had been rain and a heavy fog. A…a truck coming in the opposite direction crossed the center line and my parents were hit head-on.”

  Sympathy welled up in Wes. He remembered how hard it’d been when he lost his father, and he’d been an adult at the time. He couldn’t fathom the overwhelming pain of being a child and suddenly losing not one, but both parents.

  “Kate, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine.”

  “At least I had my aunt. She was there for me. She bundled me up and moved me to Bayberry.”

  It was in this moment that he realized she’d moved to Bayberry the same year he had. As he replayed his memories of seeing her—of her not speaking to him—it gave him a different view. She had been grieving. And the kids who had crowded around her were giving her a shoulder to lean on, to help her through this difficult period in her life. Guilt assailed him as he realized he should have tried harder back then to be her friend—to learn what she’d been going through.

  He cleared his throat. “So you came to Bayberry the same year I did.”

  “Really?” She looked at him as though trying to picture him as a kid.

  He nodded. “I remember you. Ninth grade, right?”

  She stared at him. Her fine brows drew together as she pursed her lips. “You look familiar, but I can’t place you. I’m sorry. I wish I could.”

  “It’s no big deal.” So then why did it feel important to him? “We were just kids.”

  She gave him a funny look. “I can’t believe I would forget you.”

  “I didn’t forget you.” Now why had he gone and said that?

  Color filled her cheeks. “I don’t even want to know what you thought of me back then. I was shy and scared of life without my parents.”

  “I thought you were wonderful.” He smiled shyly. �
��In fact, to be totally honest, I had a crush on you.”

  Her mouth gaped. “You did?”

  The room grew uncomfortably warm. Why did he keep admitting these things to her? She didn’t even remember him, and yet he remembered everything about her, including the small, unsteady smile she’d given him when they bumped into each other, quite literally, after math class. Her pen had fallen to the floor and he’d picked it up for her. It had happened right before his father uprooted them once again and moved them to Atlanta.

  His gaze met and held hers. His heart was pounding. “I did.”

  “I feel really bad I can’t remember you. There was just so much going on back then.”

  “I understand.” He really did, now that he knew her past. “It’s no big deal.”

  The next thing he knew, she was reaching out to him. He froze, not sure what to do. He didn’t want to do anything to scare her off. It took all his self-restraint not to pull her into his arms.

  But then she was there, next to him. Her arms reaching out and wrapping around him. That contact knocked down his wall of restraint. He couldn’t resist her any more than he could resist drawing in his next breath.

  He opened his arms to her, drawing her close. She fit into them as if she was always meant to be there. His heart pounded against his ribs. He inhaled the delicate lavender scent of her perfume. He’d never smelled anything quite so enticing. He could stay like this forever—

  She pulled back. The hug was much too brief, but it was a hug all the same.

  He swallowed hard, hoping his voice sounded normal. “What was that for?”

  “Just because.” And then she turned back to unpacking her Christmas ornaments as though nothing had happened.

  He wasn’t able to act as though nothing had happened, though. He stood there trying to make sense of it as his heart slowed its pace. Should he say something? Should he do something? Or should he act like it was no big deal?

  “Could you take these?” She held out three jingle bell ornaments with snowmen attached.

  She acted as though it hadn’t meant anything to her. His heart rate slowed. Had he read the signals all wrong? Obviously that was the case, but he wasn’t about to let his disappointment show.

  Totally deflated, he forced himself to act normal. “Where do they go?”

  “You can put them near the top of the tree, since they’re small.”

  He did as she asked, looping the hooks over the prickly limbs. “Done. Do you have more?”

  “Hang on.” She opened another box. “I have some really old decorations around here somewhere.” She opened box after box.

  “Can I help you?” He wasn’t quite sure what to do.

  The more boxes she opened, the more of a mess she made. He started to wonder if perhaps he should close up the boxes behind her. He looked around for the packing tape and scissors.

  “Here they are.” She straightened, holding a star covered in silver glitter. “When I was a kid, I loved this ornament. I have no idea where it came from, but I loved the way the Christmas lights made it twinkle.”

  He glanced at the ornament. It was nice, though not anything special, but he knew it was the memories tied up with the ornament that made it special for her.

  And then she frowned.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “It’s just that I usually do a theme with each tree.”

  “And?”

  “And the ornaments that are already on the tree won’t go with these.”

  “Well, if that’s all, it’s easily remedied.” He moved to the tree and carefully removed the ornaments. They hadn’t put many on, so it wasn’t hard to take them off. The hard part was remembering which box they went in, but with Kate’s help, he got them all put away.

  And then Kate started to unwrap each old ornament. They all looked delicate, and he knew how much they meant to Kate, so he was hesitant to touch them. Each one was adorned in memories.

  “It’s okay.” She stood and held out a blown glass ornament. “You can take it.”

  “But if I drop it—” He didn’t want to be responsible for stealing away a piece of her past.

  “You won’t.”

  “But if I do—”

  “Then we’ll clean it up and move on.”

  His gaze met hers. “You’ll never speak to me again.”

  She burst out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll have to do a lot worse than that.”

  Like recommending the candle company be closed? He slammed the door on that thought. He refused to let the possible scenario ruin the wonderful here and now.

  “Okay.” He took the ornament from her. “Just remember you said that.” He hung it on the tree, taking time to make sure it was secure.

  “See? You’re doing fine.”

  One by one, she unwrapped the ornaments and guided him as he hung them on the tree. There was something special about these ornaments. They had a lot of character. Some of them were even hand-painted. And there were so many that the tree was becoming quite crowded.

  “Kate, I don’t know if we need any more.” When she didn’t respond, he turned to her. “Kate?”

  She had unwrapped another ornament and paused to stare at it. It was a little angel with a gold pipe cleaner halo. Wes had forgotten all about it until that moment.

  Kate’s gaze met his, and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It was you.”

  He wasn’t sure what to say or do. He stood there transfixed.

  Kate blinked repeatedly. “I remember now. You gave me this in school. You sat across from me in art class. I was having a really bad day. I was missing my mother, who used to do all sorts of Christmas things with me. And since it was the first holiday season without my parents, I was having a hard time.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.” He’d just been a totally oblivious teenager at the time.

  “Don’t be sorry. You gave me something precious. You gave me this ornament and you didn’t expect a thing in return. It was so kind, and it made me smile. But then, before I could thank you, you disappeared. And then a couple of days later, you left school.”

  “My father got transferred again.” Wes looked down at the painted wooden angel in her hand. “I can’t believe you kept it all this time.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? It was the perfect gift at the perfect moment. It was like a reminder that my mother was always looking down on me—that she wasn’t completely gone. She’s still in my heart.”

  He glanced at the angel. “You got all of that from an ornament?”

  She nodded. “I never got a chance to thank you.”

  He stepped closer to her and gazed deeply into her eyes. His heart started to thump-thump, harder and faster. “You just did.”

  His gaze dipped to her lips. He shouldn’t even be considering kissing her. She lived here and he lived far away in the city. But right now, they were only inches apart. And it would just be one quick kiss. Okay, maybe not that quick.

  Still, he was supposed to be impartial. He had a job to do and an evaluation to prepare. His hands moved to her waist. Heat emanated through her clothes.

  As she continued to stare into his eyes, he was starting to forget why kissing her was a bad idea. Right about now, it was sounding like a great idea—the best idea he’d had in a long time.

  In that moment, all the reasons not to kiss her escaped him. All he could think about was pulling her close and finding out if her lips were as sweet as the powdered sugar donuts that appeared in the office break room each morning.

  His head started to lower just as she tilted her head upward—

  Buzz. Buzz.

  The sound of his phone ringing made them both jump back. The spell had been broken. The moment escaped them. And he felt as though he’d missed something very, very special.

  Bu
zz. Buzz.

  “You’d better get that,” Kate said.

  She moved away. His gaze followed her as she placed the ornament he’d made for her many years ago front and center on the tree. It was for the best that they hadn’t kissed. But it sure didn’t feel like it. Still, he wasn’t going to be in Bayberry much longer. Though a lot had changed since he’d arrived in this small town, the one thing that had remained constant was his career—a career that he hoped was on an upward trajectory.

  And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Kate. She’d already had her heart broken once. He wouldn’t do that to her. So it was best to remain friends and nothing more.

  Buzz. Buzz.

  He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hello, Mom.”

  “Honey, it’s time for dinner. Can you kids come over now?”

  “Sure. We’ll be there.”

  He disconnected the call. “It’s time for dinner.”

  Now that the moment had passed, he welcomed the invitation. With other people around, especially his mother and Kate’s aunt, he wouldn’t be tempted to try and kiss Kate again. His gaze meandered to her, but then he glanced away.

  Because that had been just a fleeting moment, not to be repeated. They’d simply gotten caught up in the past. Nothing more. He needed to concentrate more on his work and less on celebrating the holidays with Kate. And then everything would go back to the way it used to be. Wouldn’t it?

  Dinner dishes had been cleared.

  Coffee had been poured.

  Everyone was sitting around Aunt Penney’s dining room table.

  Kate added some sweetener to her coffee, giving it a stir. She enjoyed the way conversation flowed easily without her having to say a word. Wes’s mother and her aunt got along so well. Kate could easily imagine them being the best of friends if they lived in the same town.

  And Fred had been able to make it to dinner, since he was getting around much better. Aunt Penney had said she didn’t want to leave him alone at home all evening. She’d insisted he wasn’t up for cooking for himself, but from what Kate had witnessed, Fred had made a miraculous recovery. Was there more to his injuries than she could see? Or was her aunt just using the accident as an excuse to invite Fred over?