by Jenny Hale
He leaned over to the coffee table and grabbed a cookie, but didn’t take a bite. With a deep breath, he said, “Katharine prefers to call me Joseph.”
“Shouldn’t your wife be the least formal of all your acquaintances?” Holly hadn’t meant to verbalize the thought, but it came racing out of her mouth, the idea that Katharine wouldn’t call him by his nickname completely baffling her.
“Yes, but she has a very interesting way of looking at the world. That’s what drew me to her. One of her quirks is that she dislikes nicknames. She finds them insignificant and annoying, thinking that we should be called the name that was intended for us because that’s who we really are. She started calling me Joseph because of this and it became a term of endearment.”
“Well, Joey, better not get her around Tammy.”
He laughed out loud, the memory of Tammy’s meeting clearly coming to mind. Once the initial amusement was over, he opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then he didn’t. He just smiled and took a bite of his cookie.
* * *
“I’m worried for you,” Nana said quietly under the Christmas music she had playing, her petite hands wrapped around a cup of steaming coffee. Joe had gone into his room, so he couldn’t hear, but she was clearly trying to be discreet. Nana stood across from more cookies she had set out on one of the holiday platters she’d asked Holly to pack.
“What are you worried about, Nana?” Holly pulled the barstool out next to her and took a seat. In all the years she’d been with Nana, her grandmother had never expressed concern about her.
“Have you asked Joe why he’s here?”
“I don’t need to.” Holly grabbed a cookie. “I already know. He’s here to see the wedding venue in Brentwood.”
“Holly, he’d booked the cabin for two weeks. That’s an awfully long time to spend viewing a venue. Why is he by himself? He’s spent more time with us than he has on the phone with his fiancée. I’m worried by being so friendly that you’re playing with fire here.”
Holly’s cheeks heated up, but she didn’t know why. She hadn’t done anything wrong. “I think you’re jumping to conclusions when there’s nothing to worry about. Katharine’s working on a big case—he said so himself.”
Nana set her mug down solidly on the counter as if for emphasis. “When I met your papa, he was the only man I wanted to spend time with. He was the person that filled my thoughts the moment I awakened in the morning and as I lay my head down to sleep at night. We spent our days laughing, holding each other, dancing, being together, because being apart just wasn’t an option for us. When I said his name, I could feel my whole face light up. I haven’t seen that in Joe’s eyes when he speaks of Katharine. It isn’t my place to judge, but where it is my place is when it involves my family.”
“I’m just doing him a favor, and it’ll make me money in the process. Maybe we can use it to see Mom and Dad next Christmas. I think they want to go to Aspen.”
Nana tutted. “Why don’t they just have normal Christmases like everyone else? Wouldn’t they like some sort of tradition for Emma? How is she supposed to know what Christmas is like with her family if they keep traipsing all over the planet every year?” As the words came out of Nana’s mouth, Holly could see her dissecting them, and she wondered if Nana realized that they hadn’t had tradition since they stopped coming to the cabin for the holiday.
“You know… We could all come back here for Christmas again like we used to.”
Nana’s face dropped, and she took in a deep breath. Her eyes filled with tears as she formulated an answer to Holly’s suggestion—yes or no, it would certainly be accompanied by an explanation. After a quiet moment between them, she said, “It’s difficult to even face the day since Papa isn’t here to share this life anymore. Every morning that I fill my lungs with air is one more day alone. I’m tired. Being away from him is exhausting.” Her pout began to tremble. “And now I look around this cabin and there’s nothing left of him. Life has moved on. There isn’t a shred of him here for me. I might as well be out in that barn with all the furniture.” Nana ran her fingers around her mug. “I feel like I’m left behind. I should be with Papa and I couldn’t have everyone come and not have him with us, no matter where we are.”
Holly tried to swallow down the lump in her throat. “Please don’t talk like that,” she said, wiping a tear that had slipped down her cheek. “I miss Papa too and I can only imagine how you feel. I’ve never loved someone like that.”
The skin between Nana’s eyes wrinkled in concern as she blinked away her sadness. “Holly, you are only at the very beginning of this life. Which is why I want you to be careful and not fall for the wrong person. When you love someone like that and you lose it, you might not ever recover.”
* * *
Holly was staring out the window at the snow, her heart heavy. The precipitation had finally relented, what was left sparkling in the bit of light that escaped through the parting clouds every so often. Temperatures remained well below freezing however, so it wasn’t going anywhere for a while, and neither were they.
Joe startled her when he came up behind her.
“Sorry,” he said, holding his laptop under his arm. “You okay?”
His face was friendly and concerned, like he could read her worry over Nana perfectly, and when he sat down beside her, his mere presence felt supportive. Holly wanted to shrug it off and say that she was fine, but the truth of the matter was that she wasn’t fine at all. Papa had told her to take care of Nana in the same letter where he’d asked Holly to redo the cabin. And she’d failed. She wasn’t taking care of Nana at all. Because if she were, Nana would be happy. Now, even after all she’d done bringing Nana to the cabin, she was certain that Nana would not have a good holiday. It made her feel defeated and concerned for her grandmother.
“You’re not okay.”
She was afraid to let her thoughts leave her lips for fear she might start crying. The last thing Joe needed was a sniveling, sobbing wedding planner.
“Did it have anything to do with the conversation you just had with your grandmother?”
“You heard?”
“No.” He set his laptop on the side table and twisted toward her. “But your face gave away the sentiment.”
Holly rubbed her neck to relieve the ache that was building where she held all her stress. “I thought I could make this the best Christmas for Nana. I wanted to see her laugh like she used to. I wanted to dance and make cookies, and I’d even brought along new knitting yarn that I bought in secret. I was going to leave it for her as if Santa had been here, just for fun like Papa used to do. I have glitter and ornament-making kits—tons of stuff. But now, I don’t think she’ll be in the mood for all that.” Holly closed her eyes. “I don’t know how to make her happy anymore,” she said, her voice breaking. “Because the only person who made her happy was Papa.”
Joe sat, thoughtful, his gaze on something above her and moving around the room, until it finally rested on her. “I don’t know if there’s any coming back from something so tragic,” he said. “Her feelings are her own, and we can’t change them.” A soft smile formed on his lips. “But we can try. We shouldn’t give up simply because she isn’t in the mood for Christmas. We just have to be gentler in our approach.”
Holly liked that he’d said “we”; it made her feel unified with someone for the first time in her life. She’d always done everything by herself, and she’d gotten quite good at it, but there was something calming about knowing that a person had her back. The lump that had been stuck in her throat was subsiding a little.
Eleven
Joe had just opened his laptop when Holly heard the doorbell buzz. Who could be stopping by at nearly suppertime in all this snow? Joe, clearly thinking the same thing, set the computer aside and stood up behind her.
“Hey, y’all!” a smiling Tammy said from across the threshold when Holly opened the door. She lived within walking distance but her face still looked
as cold as if she’d made a four-mile trek. With her mitten-clad hands, she thrust a takeout box into Joe’s chest, forcing him to grab it. “We had leftovers at the restaurant tonight so I brought you some.” She offered a wink in Joe’s direction.
He opened the lid.
“Brought you your southern meat and three! That’s country-fried steak, potatoes, green beans, and macaroni and cheese.”
Holly thanked her.
“What’s this?” Joe asked. “It looks delicious. Is it cornbread?”
“It is!” Tammy said, shuffling in and shutting the door, trailing snow onto the foyer rug.
“Wouldn’t that be a meat and four then?”
Tammy burst into laughter, throwing a hand on his arm, making him almost fumble the box. “You’re funny!” She grinned up at him.
Joe just stared at her like she’d flown in from another planet, clearly not understanding that meat and three without cornbread or biscuits was like an apple pie sans apples: it just didn’t make sense. So, clearly, bread wouldn’t count as a meal option. It was mandatory.
“I can’t stay,” Tammy said. “I just stopped by because… Remember how Otis Rigley redid his barn?” She addressed Joe to explain further. “He finished the inside of it for big family reunions his daughter plans every Christmas. She flies in once or twice a year, along with the whole family—they’re scattered all over the country.”
Holly remembered the barn well. Otis had a talent for construction and he’d outfitted the entire barn as an enormous party area with a stage, a bar, tables, and a dusty wooden floor just for dancing.
“Airport cancellations kept ’em all home this year, so Otis decided to open it up tomorrow for us so we could get together while we’re stuck here in this snow. I thought I’d let y’all know about it.” Her eyebrows bounced. “There are even porch heaters inside—no one knows where he got ’em. You know Otis… Always doin’ somethin’.”
In the evenings, Papa drank beer or moonshine whiskey, preferring whiskey. Never too much, but just enough to get his cheeks rosy. While whiskey had risen in popularity, giving prominence to southerners who drank it in trendy downtown bars, all of them trying the newest in mixers, Papa always had his “plain and simple,” as he’d called it. He got it from Otis Rigley, who lived down the road from the cabin. He made it in his barn with corn from his field. Otis’s possession of a distilled spirits permit was always questionable, but no one said a word, because he only made enough for him, Papa, and their couple of friends. They used to sit on his front porch, drinking it on ice in mason jars, and it always looked just like iced tea until Holly had gotten close enough to smell it.
“Thank you for the invite,” Holly said, wondering if she could get Nana to go.
“It should be real fun! We’re bringing all the food, but Otis is in charge of drinks.” Tammy offered a mischievous grin the way she did whenever she had some sort of insider scoop. Local gossip was Tammy’s specialty; she considered it part of her duty as a resident to keep everyone informed. “And Rhett’s setting up in the barn loft to play for us. He’s in town.”
That last sentence was like a cold wet smack to Holly’s face. A wave of uncertainty slid down her spine and her breath became shallow. “Rhett’s in town?”
Tammy nodded slowly. “Mmm. Hmm. He sure is. He’s home to have Christmas with his mama.”
Rhett Burton, a singer-songwriter, was the darling of Leiper’s Fork, having grown up his whole life in the small town. He’d had his first brush with fame when his single “Take Me Home” hit number one on the country charts a few years back. He’d sold out every show since.
Holly remembered those lyrics as they left his lips for the first time, the two of them under the old oak tree out back of the cabin, a pencil in his hand and that tattered notebook he scribbled in sitting on his lap: Take me home, where the pines know my name, where the world is the same, and I still have you. That was when he’d, ironically, moved downtown to a condo near Music Row in Nashville, although he rarely lived there, traveling the world, playing large venues year-round. He’d left everyone to follow his dream. Even Holly.
“Please say you’ll come.”
When Holly surfaced from her fog of panic, she noticed Joe studying her. She pushed a smile across her face, making the decision right then that she wasn’t going to let Rhett keep her from enjoying herself. It was water under the bridge, anyway. He’d had to go.
“I’d love to come. I’ll clear it with Nana when she wakes up from her nap and if she isn’t up for it tomorrow, I’ll stop by for little while.”
“Buddy’s comin’ around with the tractor if y’all need a lift. Just let him know. He smartened up and put the plow on, so he can probably clear this driveway if he comes through the field out back and hits the brakes all the way down the hill.”
Holly nodded, worried already about how Nana would manage in Buddy’s tractor. But if she could, it would be really great to get her around old friends.
“We’re startin’ about seven.” Tammy turned the knob on the door and pulled it open, a surge of frigid air taking Holly’s breath away. “I’m off! Got more people to invite!” Then she turned to Joe. “I didn’t bring everybody food, you know. Y’all are just special, that’s all.” She batted her eyelashes at him lightheartedly. “Hope you like it, Joey!”
As Tammy left, she leaned in to Holly and whispered, “He’s a keeper, girl! So cute!” Before Holly could say anything in return, she’d gone.
Holly took the box of food from Joe. “I’ll put this in the fridge for now and we can heat it up later.” Noticing the wary look on his face, she added, “You know, you don’t have to go tomorrow if you don’t want to.” She’d only meant to let him off the hook, but the way he looked at her, it was as if her words had come off differently. Those wheels were turning and she suddenly wondered if Joe thought she didn’t want him there. “I mean I’d love you to go…” She’d love him to go? Now she was being too forward! All the cold air from the snow must have done a number on her brain.
“You’ll need someone to help you get your grandmother in and out of Buddy’s tractor.” As if he were unbothered, which was contradictory to the look he’d just given her, he walked over to the sofa, grabbing his laptop on the way. “It’ll be nice to get out before cabin fever completely sets in.” He sat down and opened his computer. “Once you get the meat and four in the fridge, I’ll show you the wedding spreadsheet.”
Meat and four. That made her smile.
Twelve
Holly found herself inside the barn again the next morning.
Nana had said she’d like to rest up for tonight, opting to stay in her room, and Joe was working most of the morning, so Holly decided that it would be the perfect time to brainstorm ideas for what to do with everything—she just couldn’t get her mind around lumping it all in a charity shop. There had to be something better.
Staying in the front of the barn, she maneuvered around the pile of old lighting she’d sorted and pulled two of the kitchen chairs over to the side, near where she’d scooted the table to make room in the center of the floor. Then she surveyed the pieces, working her mind for ideas. There was the old sofa where they’d watched movies and eaten popcorn, a smattering of side tables, a ton of bedroom furniture, but the dresser from the room where she’d slept caught her eye. She went over to it and fiddled with the brass pulls that had discolored with time, noting how thin its coat of paint was.
Nana had been right. All this needed was a good sand and new color. The wood was substantial, and there wasn’t a blemish on it. If Papa were here, he’d have set in right away, restoring it. Holly felt like she owed it to him to try.
She was willing to bet Papa had an electric sander out there, and she mustered the will to look around, feeling his silent encouragement. This was his place, the spot he liked to spend his evenings. He’d built handmade boxes for all his fishing gear and shelves. Anything, really, that allowed him to use his hands. Nana had teased him about
that. She’d said his fingers would get restless when he didn’t give them a guitar, so he’d had to find other uses for them.
Holly skimmed the shelving near the woodpile Papa kept to replenish the load on the porch to see if she could find a sander, delighted and emotional when she spotted it. Gently, as if it would break, she took it down and grabbed the extension cord, plugging it into an outlet. Then she wrapped her fingers around the handle, trying not to think about the fact that Papa had been the last one to touch it. He’d want her to use it, she told herself. She’d just test a spot at the back to see if it would be easy to get the old paint off.
The sander came to life with a hissing buzz, and Holly pressed it against the back of the dresser. Just as she’d thought, the paint seemed to disappear under the pressure of the machine. While the drawers would be a bit more work, the unit itself would be easy to sand. With gentle motions, just like she’d seen Papa do, she moved the sander over the entire back, revealing the grain of the wood beneath.
She was so engrossed in sanding that she didn’t notice Nana until she waved a hand in front of Holly, her eyes glassy. Through the light dust in the air, her grandmother surveyed the dresser.
“That sound,” she said, still concentrating on the furniture. “I could hear the sander through the panes of my bedroom window and if I closed my eyes, it took me back to a different time.” She cleared her throat, putting her hand on the dresser as if she needed support. “I knew it was you, but I just had to see.” She gave Holly an unsteady smile. “I wanted to make sure Papa hadn’t managed some of that Christmas magic he always rattled on about.” Nana walked around the dresser. “What are you planning to do?”