A Sweethaven Christmas

by Courtney Walsh

  “Sorry, darlin’, did I scare you?”

  Luke’s family seemed intent on showing up today.

  “Yes, but it’s fine.” She shuffled the papers around on the counter, avoiding her eyes.

  “You all right? You seem flustered.”

  Campbell’s laugh sounded nervous in her own ears. “Have you been talking to Meghan?”

  Adele frowned. “No, and I need to talk to you.”

  Was she coming to warn her about Luke’s plan?

  Campbell took a deep breath. She was being ridiculous and she knew it. “About what?” She tucked the papers inside a folder and tried to look busy.

  “Facebook.”

  Campbell met her eyes and saw pure panic in them. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  “I think Henry said yes to bein’ my friend.” The panic intensified.

  Campbell’s eyes widened. “That’s great, Adele.”

  “No, it isn’t. I don’t know what to do next.” She dropped her purse on the counter and pulled out the little journal they’d all seen on Thanksgiving. “I know it’s hard to believe, but Henry wasn’t just a friend to me. I thought I was gonna marry him.”

  “That’s not so hard to believe,” Campbell said, forcing her thoughts to stay off of Luke and on his mom.

  Was Luke Campbell’s version of Henry? Years from now would she be looking him up wondering “What if . . . ?”

  “I just don’t know if maybe he’s mad at me is all.”

  “For something that happened almost fifty years ago?” Campbell asked.

  “You don’t have to say it like that. Reminds me how old I am.”

  “Sorry.”

  Adele’s eyes glazed over. “I loved my Teddy. He was a lot like Luke—kind, good with kids, and he treated me like a queen. I don’t want any of this to make it seem like I was ever disappointed in the way things turned out.”

  Campbell watched Adele swipe a tear off her cheek.

  “But I’m alone now, and I guess a part of me is wonderin’ about Henry.”

  “And you feel guilty?”

  “Like I’m cheatin’. On my Teddy.”

  Campbell covered Adele’s hands with her own, grateful to have gained the older woman’s trust.

  “I’m sorry for unloading all of this on you. I can’t tell Meghan or Luke—and you’re practically family.”

  Campbell’s face must’ve gone pale.

  “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, no, of course not.” Maybe Adele was referring to their friendship—because of her history with Campbell’s mom. Not because of Campbell’s future with her son.

  “So, what would you do? If you were me?” Her eyes pleaded.

  Suddenly, their lighthearted talk from Thanksgiving seemed like a mistake. To Adele, this man was so much more than a potential Facebook friend, and they’d all made light of it.

  “Send him a note, maybe? The Internet just makes it easier.”

  Adele looked away. “Can you show me how?” It moved Campbell how difficult it seemed to be for her to ask for help.

  “Of course.”

  They sat down at the computer and pulled up Adele’s Facebook page.

  “Now, if you want to send a note that anyone can read, you can go here.” Campbell showed her around Henry’s wall. “See, here, someone sent him a note about a chess game, and we can read that.”

  “I don’t think I’d want anyone reading my notes to Henry.” Adele stared at the screen.

  “Then you want to send him a private message.” Campbell showed her how to keep their communications private and then she clicked on his photo albums.

  “He’s handsome, Adele.”

  Adele smiled, eyes on the image of Henry holding two children.

  They scrolled through the photos, and Campbell stopped on one of a younger Henry, arms around a small woman with dark hair. She leaned in and read what Henry had written about the photo.

  “‘Still miss her, even five years later.’” She glanced at Adele.

  “I’m glad he found someone,” Adele said. “I’m sure he made a great husband and they look so happy together.” She quieted for a long moment. “I think I should wait.”

  Campbell stilled. “You don’t want to say hello?”

  Adele clicked on the Message button and chewed on her bottom lip. “Maybe.”

  “I’ve got a few things to do in the back room. You go ahead and when you’re done, just click Send.”

  Adele nodded.

  For ten minutes, Campbell pretended to work in the back room, but all the time, she kept one eye on Adele, who seemed to be deleting every word as quickly as she typed it.

  Finally, Adele stood up.

  “Did you send it?” Campbell asked, walking toward her.

  “Yes. My hands are still shaking.”

  “It’s always good to be kind to someone,” Campbell said. “Think of it that way.”

  Adele smiled. “I like that. Join me for a cup of coffee?”

  Campbell glanced out the window to the café. “Oh, I’ve got more work here, but you go ahead.”

  “You sure? Luke is probably anxious to see you.”

  “I wish I could.” Campbell fidgeted with the bottom of her shirt. “Tell him I said hi.”

  Adele’s eyes narrowed. But Campbell couldn’t tell Adele what she suspected—or how it made her feel.

  This was the kind of secret she couldn’t admit. At least not yet.

  But she’d have to make some sense of it sooner or later. Because she had a feeling Luke wouldn’t wait around forever.

  And that was exactly what she was afraid of.

  Jane

  The doctor’s office was white and smelled of disinfectant.

  She glanced down at the paperwork the receptionist had given her to fill out.

  Why are you here today?

  Jane clicked the pen on the clipboard, then wrote “Routine check-up.”

  She couldn’t write “I want to find out if there’s a medical reason I’m overweight.”

  Jane hadn’t exercised in many years. If she was going to start this weight-loss thing, she needed to make sure she wasn’t going to kill herself in the process.

  She finished the paperwork and returned it to the receptionist.

  “It shouldn’t be too long of a wait,” the woman said.

  Jane sat and flipped through a Good Housekeeping magazine dated eight months ago. Her eyes glazed over as she remembered the last time she’d been in Dr. Barry’s office. Alex was five and his ear infections had gotten worse. The doctor rearranged his schedule to fit them in and prescribed the antibiotics to make her son feel better. She’d always been grateful for the way he treated their whole family. Often she wished their regular doctor in Iowa could sit down and learn from Dr. Barry.

  They called her back and Jane hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. The young nurse wore pink scrubs and smiled as she greeted her. “Hi, Mrs. Atkins. How are you today?”

  “Oh, fine,” Jane said, dreading what came next.

  “Just take off your shoes and step on the scale,” the nurse said.

  As she untied her tennis shoes, she glanced at the girl’s name tag. Amanda. Amanda had no idea what she asked.

  Jane removed her coat and dropped it in a heap on top of her shoes and purse. If only she could shed her midsection that easily.

  She looked at Amanda, who stood, clipboard in hand, waiting to record Jane’s weight.

  “Okay, but don’t tell me what it is,” Jane said.

  Amanda frowned. “Okay.”

  Jane knew what it was. She just didn’t want the entire office to know. For some reason, nurses thought it was appropriate to broadcast those three numbers, as if it wasn’t humiliating enough to see them flashing in front of you.

  As she stood there, the cold metal of the scale stung her feet through her thin socks. Jane stared up at the ceiling as Amanda fiddled with the metal bar that tattled on her for too many nights spent with
her old friends Ben and Jerry.

  “Okay, you can follow me,” Amanda said after the metal settled and she’d jotted down the sum total of Jane’s self-worth.

  Jane walked a few paces behind the young, thin girl, feeling like she should hang her head over what had just happened. How had it gotten this bad? And what would Dr. Barry say when she told him she wanted to get healthy? Would he laugh and say she was too far gone? It’s how she felt most days.

  “You can go ahead and undress and put this on,” Amanda said, handing her a hospital gown. “Just flip this switch when you’re ready and he’ll be in shortly.”

  Jane thanked her and set her things down in the chair. Undressing in the doctor’s office always brought its own batch of insecurities, and today was no different. She tied the gown around her quickly, then flipped the switch and scooted herself onto the table. A chill ran through her as she remembered the many times over the years she’d brought one child or another in to see Dr. Barry. He hadn’t even met Sam, though with any luck there wouldn’t be a need for that.

  The light knock on the door pulled her back to the here and now and she waited for the doctor’s face to appear. Dr. Barry looked the same—distinguished and older, with gray hair and kind eyes. Just as she remembered him, though he seemed slimmer.

  She smiled, but inside she wondered if he was thinking the exact opposite of her.

  “Jane, it’s been too long,” he said, extending a hand.

  She shook it, nodding. “We’ve been away awhile.”

  He hugged the clipboard. The one with her weight written on it in bold, black ink. “I can’t tell you how sorry we were to hear about Alex.”

  His office must’ve sent flowers or a card or something. Jane didn’t remember. That entire month was a blur. That entire year was a blur.

  “Thank you,” Jane murmured and looked away.

  “How are Graham and the kids? Did I hear right you have another son?” He smiled a warm smile, and Jane reminded herself that once upon a time she loved making small talk with this man.

  “Everyone’s good. And yes. Sam is our youngest. Quite a handful.” She smiled and Dr. Barry turned his attention to her chart.

  He sat on the little black stool in front of her. “So, it says you’re here for a routine check-up? Is there anything bothering you?”

  Jane’s eyes filled with tears as she remembered the humiliating tumble she took on the stage of the church. Would he laugh when she told him?

  “I’d like to take better care of myself,” she said.

  “That’s always a good idea,” he told her. His voice was kind.

  Jane studied her hands in her lap. “I’ve always been heavy, but now it’s getting out of hand.” She thought about the photos in the scrapbook. She hadn’t always been heavy. How did she change that perception of herself?

  He flipped through the papers on the clipboard. “Yes, it does look like you’ve put on some weight,” he said.

  She forced herself not to internalize the comment. It wasn’t an insult, just a statement of fact. “I know.”

  “Jane, I hope you’re not beating yourself up. With what you went through, it’s very common to put on weight. For some of us, stress and grief are a trigger to overeat and pick up some bad habits.”

  She nodded and decided not to let on that she’d put on fifteen pounds the summer before Alex died. His death and then the addition of Sam had served as excuses for the behavior she’d already adopted.

  “Listen, let’s run some tests and see where your health is. Afterward, we can come up with a plan.” The doctor’s smile was warm.

  “So, I’m not a lost cause?” Her eyes fell, landing on her thighs. Seeing them, she certainly felt like a lost cause.

  Dr. Barry rolled the stool closer to her. “Jane, there’s no such thing.”

  She met his eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks that the judgment she expected was absent.

  “I’d like to run a few tests,” Dr. Barry said after the exam.

  Jane frowned. “Am I okay?”

  He smiled. “Of course. This is just routine. I’ll need you to make an appointment with the receptionist to come back tomorrow morning for a glucose test. But I’ll need you to fast for a full eight hours before the test.”

  Jane nodded and made sure to schedule the test for as early as possible the following day so she could eat a normal dinner and sleep straight through the fast.

  The following day, though, she woke up ravenous. She hurried to get ready and get out before her family asked for breakfast. Graham could handle Sam, and the girls could make their own food. She knew better than to put herself in that situation.

  Once she settled in for the test, the nurse gave her a fizzy orange drink, like a Fanta only sweeter and tougher to choke down, but she did it. Two hours later, they drew blood. An hour later, more blood. Jane wished she’d brought more to do.

  The next day, when she finally got the results, Jane wondered if God had allowed that chair to break for a reason. Otherwise, she never would’ve known the truth.

  “It looks like prediabetes,” Dr. Barry told her on the phone. “Your blood glucose levels are higher than normal—high enough to cause some concern. It looks like you were smart to come in, Jane.”

  Her heart sank. “What does this mean?”

  “It means you do need to make yourself a priority. You need to get in shape or this could become full-blown diabetes really quickly.”

  Jane sighed. If her life depended on it, would she be able to maintain an exercise regimen? Would the threat of diabetes keep her out of the fridge?

  “I’ve made an appointment for you with a nutritionist, and you need to get some kind of exercise every day, or at the very least four days a week.”

  Jane listened to his instructions, but as she did, she thought about the holidays, only a few weeks away. The baking, the buffet-style meals, the family gatherings. They’d already made plans to join Adele and the others for Christmas—how would she resist Adele’s treats? She’d been so looking forward to spending her favorite holiday in Sweethaven. It had been years since she’d done that.

  “Jane?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, yes?”

  “It’s very important that you ease yourself into this, but it’s time to make better choices with your health. We want you to be around to see your grandkids. Speaking from experience, you don’t want to miss out on that.”

  “No, I sure don’t.”

  Across the room a photo of her family caught her eye. How would she explain this sudden change to them? How would they react when she said she wasn’t baking frosted sugar cookies this year? Could she deny them their orange cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning?

  “Don’t worry, Jane. We caught this early. You’re going to be fine.” Dr. Barry must’ve sensed her apprehension.

  She thanked him and hung up, replaying his words in her mind. You’re going to be fine. And she would be, but not without making a lot of changes.

  And unfortunately, she didn’t have the foggiest idea where to start.

  After Dr. Barry’s phone call, Jane drove herself back to his office where he’d set up a meeting with a nutritionist. She’d read everything that had ever been published on healthy eating, but somehow none of it stuck. Some skinny person in a doctor’s coat wasn’t going to change that. Even if she was at risk for developing diabetes.

  Jane walked back into the waiting room, but this time she was led down the hall in the opposite direction to a corner office without a single window.

  How depressing. Just sitting in here all day would make me want to eat doughnuts.

  Moments later, the door opened and Jane turned, ready to meet the person who would solve all her eating issues once and for all.

  “Jane!”

  “Lori?”

  “Dr. Barry told me he was referring a special patient. I had no idea it was you till just this moment. It’s been so busy around here. How’s that handsome husband of yours?”

&nb
sp; Jane’s face heated. In her hand, Lori held a manila envelope with Jane’s test results and her weight, and now the rest of Sweethaven would have access to that humiliating information.

  Jane stood. “I think this was a mistake.”

  Lori laughed. “Don’t be silly, Jane. I’m a professional. I’ve been doing this for years. Dr. Barry is helping me get started up here in Sweethaven now that I’ve moved back for good.”

  Jane frowned. Why was Lori suddenly being so nice to her?

  “So, let’s look over your chart. Oh my, prediabetes. It’s good you’re here. I can help you.” Lori smiled. “Sit down.”

  Jane hesitated, her pulse racing, but she forced herself to sit.

  “As you can see, I’m at a healthy weight, but that’s because I’ve taken the necessary steps to educate myself. What I’m going to do is share all that education with you so you can finally start taking care of yourself.”

  Jane frowned.

  “I mean, we’re not getting any younger, right? Best to get a hold of this thing before it spirals out of control. We don’t want any more chair incidents, right?” Lori laughed. “Now, here’s where we’ll start—”

  Jane’s jaw went slack, but she couldn’t find words.

  “We’ve got your starting weight recorded here, but I want you to go home and take a picture of yourself in a swimsuit or bra and panties.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we want to document your before and after transformation. Maybe you can even provide a testimonial about how well my program works.” She smiled, and for a moment, Jane wondered if she truly had no idea how terrible her words were.

  “Lori, I don’t think I can do this.”

  “I know it seems daunting right now with so much work ahead of you, but trust me, it can be done.”

  “No, I know I can lose the weight. I just can’t allow you to take credit for it.” Jane stood.

  “Jane—”

  Jane rushed out of the office, started her car and sped off to the solace of her house. When she arrived, Graham was sitting at the kitchen table flipping through a new issue of Sports Illustrated.

  “Hon, what’s wrong?”

  Jane peeled her coat off and hung it on the hook by the door. She met Graham’s concerned eyes. She wanted him to see her only as a beautiful woman; how did she tell him the truth? That she’d paid so little attention to herself, she’d become what she feared most? And now her health was at risk because of it.