Once Again In Christmas Falls (Return To Christmas Falls Book 3)

by Becky Monson

  “So?”

  “So, I kind of want to do it.”

  “But you have a job. In San Francisco.”

  “Actually . . .”

  “Oh, London.” She breathed heavy into the phone. I could envision steam coming out of her ear. “Another one?”

  “Yes, but I had to this time. They made Braydon my boss,” I said, having full confidence this would make her realize that I couldn’t work there.

  “So what?”

  “So what? Don’t you think that would have been bad? I mean, things didn’t exactly end well between us.”

  “I told you when you started dating that boy that you should never date someone at work,” she said, giving me the reprimanding voice she was so good at.

  “Yes, and I should have listened to you.”

  She tsked loudly. “How could you know that things would have been bad if you stayed? Can you call and get your job back?”

  “Well, I don’t know for sure that things would have turned out bad with Braydon as my boss, but I have a pretty good guess. And I highly doubt I can get my job back. I walked out, I didn’t even give them notice.” I cringed at myself when I said that. It was pretty awful of me to not at least give them two weeks. But it all had happened so suddenly. I wasn’t thinking.

  “And now you think you can just pick up and move across the country to Christmas Falls?” She practically spat out the words, completely forgetting that I said Gatlinburg. Obviously, she was not buying my ruse. Even though that was the truth—the job was in Gatlinburg—she knew it was Christmas Falls that was really calling to me.

  “Well . . . yeah,” I said.

  She scoffed. “You know, you always do this, London.”

  “What do you mean?” I felt suddenly defensive. What did I always do?

  “When things go wrong, or don’t go well for you, you leave. You run.”

  “That’s not true,” I practically spat.

  She laughed a sort of wicked sounding laugh. It was almost a cackle. “Oh, yes, it is. Do you know that Savannah calls it ‘pulling a London’ when people run away from things? Like the other day, she asked Phoenix to empty the dishwasher and Savannah said she ‘pulled a London’ and ran off.”

  I had no words. I kept trying to say something but I just kept sputtering. Pulling a London? Was she serious?

  “Hello? London? Are you there?”

  “I do not run away from things,” I said when I finally got a hold of my tongue and could form words.

  “You do. I’m sorry, London, but you’ve been that way for a long time. Any time anything hard happens, you run away from it instead of facing it. I mean, look at you right now—you’re in Christmas Falls, and why?”

  “Because of Miss Anna Cate,” I said determinedly.

  “Are you sure you didn’t use Miss Anna Cate as a reason to avoid the fact that you just quit your job? Or to get away from your father and me?”

  “No, I didn’t.” I was emphatic in my tone, but my mind . . . not so much. Tendrils of doubt started to creep in.

  Had I used Miss Anna Cate and her letter to get away from my family? If my mother had called me and never mentioned getting a divorce, would I be sitting here right now, in a room at Poinsettia Cottage? I wasn’t sure, but I was leaning toward probably not. I started to feel queasy. Had I used Miss Anna Cate to run away from my problems?

  “Just . . . just come home, would you please?” She sounded defeated and sad.

  We hung up and I collapsed on the bed. I wanted to deny it all, to call my mom back and tell her she was wrong and then send the meanest possible text to my sister since we never talked on the phone. Pulling a London . . . how ridiculous. But as I lay there, memories kept popping into my head.

  The whole goth thing in junior high and high school . . . normally people who do the goth thing want to be part of something, to feel like they belong to a group. Not me. I had my group of friends and I had Andy. So why, then? Was it to be different? Maybe. Or was it to run away from the fact that I was never going to be like my sister, Savannah, who my mom adored. I was never going to be girly and wear pink dresses to prom. I didn’t even go to the prom. When I dyed my hair black and put on all that eye liner . . . my mom, she sort of gave up on me. She didn’t bother pestering me about my clothes, my hair, anything. It was so much easier that way.

  And then there was what happened with Piper. I know I ran that time. And I left this whole life behind—this life in Christmas Falls—the only place that ever felt like home. It was just easier to leave and start a new life because then I didn’t have to face it all. Then there was work—five jobs since college. All of which I left on my own accord, and all because things got hard, or something changed that I didn’t think I could handle. I could go on and on.

  Now I was in Christmas Falls. And there was the job, and there was Andy. Oh gosh, Andy. Had he only been a pawn in all this? Did I really like him, or was he a means to help me run away from my life in San Francisco? A distraction?

  As I lay on the bed, other things kept coming to mind, other times in my life where I ran away instead of facing it. My mom . . . she was right. My sister—even though I hated her for it—was right. Even right now as this all dawned on me, as I realized so much about myself, the thought that kept going through my head was: where can I go to get away from all this?

  ~*~

  Despite wanting to do the contrary after talking to my mom, I still went to help Don with his photo shoots. Though today, my heart wasn’t in it. So when he asked me if I wanted the job, I turned him down. He was disappointed and so was I, but it was the right thing to do. I needed to go back to San Francisco and work out my life there. My life was already there, I had a place to live, and it wouldn’t be that hard to find a job with all the start-ups that were constantly popping up near the city. This time, though, I would find a job and I would see it through. I was determined to break this cycle. However I could.

  A knock on my door had me getting up from my bed. A quick glance at the clock on the side table said it was 7:30 PM.

  I knew who was on the other side of the door; I didn’t even need to ask.

  “Hey, gorg—” Andy cut himself off as he took in my bloodshot, puffy eyes, and my red nose. I’d been able to keep it together when I worked for Don, but since I’d been back I’d been crying about everything. My choices. The job. My mom. Andy.

  “Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked as I opened the door wide so he could come in.

  “Rough day,” I said, adding a hiccup for good measure. I was such a wreck.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” he said, taking his jacket off and, after placing it on the chair, took a seat at the end of the bed. He patted the spot next to him and I sat.

  He reached up and ran fingers along my forehead, tenderly moving to the side of my face and tucking some hair behind my ear.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, searching my face. “Something happen at work?”

  “No, nothing like that,” I said, looking away from him and down at the tissue I was twisting around in my hands. He’d called it work, like it was my job already. But it wasn’t and it never would be. I felt a lump in my throat.

  “Then what?”

  “It was,” I started, and not being able to prevent it, moisture gathered at the corners of my eyes and large tears fell down my face. “I had a conversation with my mom.”

  “What did she say?”

  Andy’s face was so sincere as he waited for me to explain. Which made it even harder to get the words out. What was he going to think of me? But I took a deep breath and I told him. I told him what my mom said, the joke my sister had been making at my expense, and then some of the things that I had done that proved them right.

  When I was done, I wanted him to put his arms around me, tell me it wasn’t true, but he didn’t. He just sat there.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  “Yeah.” My brain and my heart ached so much right then. I was drained. I wanted to curl up i
nto a ball and sleep, but wouldn’t that be running away too? Or at least avoiding?

  “So,” Andy said, stopping himself and swallowing hard. “This whole trip—it was a way to get away from your family and from your life in San Francisco?”

  “I guess,” I said, wishing so badly that it wasn’t true, but the feelings of guilt and remorse moved through me, and I knew that it was.

  “And this,” he said, motioning between us with his index finger, “was this whole thing between you and me just some means of escape for you, too?”

  I wanted to scream no and tell him that wasn’t true, that he was never a means of escape for me—not now and not before. I had never felt for anyone else the way I felt about him. And that was the truth. But I also felt raw and so conflicted. What if what I felt really was me trying to run away? What if it wasn’t real?

  “I . . . don’t know. I . . . don’t think so?”

  “You . . . don’t think so,” he said, drawing out the words.

  I just looked at him. Willing him to tell me that of course this thing between us couldn’t be an escape, and to give me a bunch of reasons why. Good reasons. Real, tangible reasons. He was always good at that—talking me down, making me feel better about things.

  But he didn’t. And when his eyes moved to mine, the hurt that was there . . . I would never be able to scrub that picture from my brain as long as I lived. I was confident it would be stuck there forever.

  “I see,” he said. His gaze held steady on the floor.

  “Andy,” I started, but then I stopped myself. What could I possibly say right now?

  “Okay, well,” he placed his hands on the tops of his legs and anchored himself to stand up. “I guess it was better that I found out now rather than later.”

  Like later when things got bad and I ran away from it all. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.

  He grabbed his coat and left my room, not saying another word.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Andy didn’t call the next morning. I didn’t expect him to. My girly heart had hoped, though. I had cried most of the night, and throughout the morning I was tearing up intermittently any time I thought of the phone call with my mom, the job with Don, my life back in San Francisco . . . but the big tears happened when I thought about Andy.

  After really thinking it over, I knew he wasn’t a pawn in all this. He couldn’t be. I truly and genuinely had feelings for him. Maybe even big feelings . . . the kind that were too early to admit out loud or even be thinking. But I also didn’t trust myself right now. What if things changed, what if something went wrong and I “pulled a London”? I still had murderous feelings toward my sister over that. Maybe not murderous, but the throat-punching kind, for sure.

  I had to figure out a way to get my puffy eyes to go down and cover up the redness around my nose before I met up with Piper. She’d called me that morning to ask if I wanted to come and have dessert with her later at Blackstone Hotel and Resort where she worked. I think Ashley was going to come as well. It would be good to see Ashley again. I felt a little jolt at the thought that I might run into Andy there. But it was after his work hours so I doubted I’d see him.

  Before that though, I had to go see Miss Anna Cate. I just knew in my heart she was the best person to talk to about all of this. Or at least I hoped she was. I knew I could talk to Piper, but she had drama of her own going on with that rich guy she’d had a thing with. Apparently that was over. I was sad for her but felt a jolt of happiness that she wanted to talk to me about it. If nothing came of this whole trip, having Piper back in my life was worth all of it. Well, mostly all of it.

  I walked from the cottage over to Miss Anna Cate’s house, my feet dragging. I felt heavy—in my heart, and overall. Not even the Christmas spirit of this little town could make me feel better. Although I could feel some tugging at my heart as I passed by the downtown area. I truly did love this place. It was going to be hard to leave.

  “Well hello, London,” Miss Anna Cate said as I stood in her doorway. She was wearing pajamas covered by a soft pink robe. “It’s lovely to see you.”

  “Hi, Miss Anna Cate.” I gave her what I’m sure was an incredibly weak smile.

  “Well, it’s been a busy day for this old woman. Ashley was just here,” she said.

  “Ashley was here?”

  “Yep, you just missed her. Do come in,” she said, opening the door wide. I stepped through, noticing that her home looked a little different today. It felt brighter and looked cleaner than the last time I was here. Less clutter. And she even looked like she had some color back in her cheeks, though there was still swelling in her face and hands.

  She offered me tea and I accepted, taking a seat in the same dark-gray wingback chair that I had sat in fewer than ten days ago when I first saw her. It felt like so much longer than that.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked as she came in the room after a few minutes, carrying a tray of tea and cookies. I jumped up and took the tray from her, setting it on the coffee table as she took a seat on the couch across from me and pulled a throw over her lap and legs. I poured a cup of tea and handed it to her, and then filled one for myself.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about the community center?” I asked as I sat. It wasn’t why I was here, but I had been curious. It was fresh in my mind since I’d walked past it on the way here.

  “Oh,” she shook her head, looking down at the tea cup and saucer in her hands. “I didn’t want to burden you with it.”

  “But why?”

  “Well,” she shrugged, “is there anything you can do?” She gave me a doleful half-smile and I felt my heart fracture.

  “I guess not,” I said, wishing terribly that there was.

  “Then I suppose it was pointless to talk about it. Why waste time on something we cannot change? Anyway, I suspect that’s not the only thing you came to talk to me about.”

  “I just wanted to come say hi.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “Really? From the look in those bloodshot eyes of yours, I’d say there was more to this visit.”

  I chuckled. Even without the bloodshot eyes giving me away, she would have seen right through me. She was always able to do that.

  “Okay, so maybe there’s more to my visit.”

  “Well, don’t leave me wondering, dear. Tell me. Go on,” she said, batting a hand in my direction.

  I sat there for a minute, wondering what I should say, where to begin. It’s not like she could tell me I wasn’t the type of person to run from things, because it had become painfully obvious that it was the truth. I didn’t need her to tell me that.

  “I talked to my mom yesterday,” I started, feeling tears fill my eyes. My emotions were on the surface right now; it was impossible to bury them.

  “And?”

  “I told her that I was thinking of moving here,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said, a soft smile appearing on her face. “I don’t want to lie and say that thought doesn’t warm my heart . . . but it sounds like it didn’t go well with your mom.”

  I chuckled quietly. “No, it didn’t go over well.”

  “And what was her reasoning?”

  “She thinks I’m doing it to run away from everything going on there. Like my parents divorcing.”

  She tsked. “I see. That really is too bad about your parents.”

  “Yeah, I mean it’s kind of weird and totally civilized . . . they’re even still living in the same house.”

  She shook her head. “Relationships are so different now. It’s the strangest thing.”

  I wasn’t sure if my parents were the best example of nowadays relationships. They were odd all around.

  “Anyway, she told me that I’ve been running from things for most of my life, and when I thought about it . . . she was sort of right.” There was no “sort of” about it. Saying it out loud sounded so harsh to my ears, though. I needed a bit of a buffer.

  “So, what do you want to do about that?
”

  I breathed out heavily. “I’m not sure. I mean, first I need to apologize to you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, I think I may have used your letter as an excuse to come to Christmas Falls to get away from my family and from the job I’d just quit.”

  She batted a hand at me. “Oh sweetie, I don’t care how you got here, I’m just happy you’re here.”

  I smiled. Actually, I may have beamed. Leave it to Miss Anna Cate to so easily take away the guilt I’d been feeling over that.

  “So now tell me what else has got ya down,” she said, daintily picking up her teacup and taking a sip.

  “I’m worried. What if I move here and something goes wrong. What would I do?”

  She thought about that for a second. “Well, if what your momma’s saying is true, you’d probably try to run.”

  “Right,” I said, looking down at the cup of tea in my hands. Its warmth was doing nothing to help the cold I was feeling right now.

  “But,” she said, holding up a finger, “maybe you’d be able to catch yourself next time. Maybe, the next time, you’d work through it, instead of running because now you know this about yourself.”

  “But how do I know I would?”

  She shrugged. “How can we ever know something like that? No one can predict the future. And if they could, well, they’d be a rich man . . . or woman. And a pretty sad one, at that. Isn’t the fun of life not knowing what’s ahead, but just enjoying the ride?”

  This made me tear up even more. Despite what she was saying, Miss Anna Cate did have an inkling of what was ahead of her, and yet she was so positive about everything. So positive about life.

  “My mom thinks I need to come home,” I said.

  “And?”

  “I suppose that’s one of my problems. I don’t know where home is. Home was never in Phoenix—where my parents live. And it’s not in San Francisco either. I haven’t felt at home . . . since I lived in Christmas Falls.”