It Started with Christmas: A heartwarming feel-good Christmas romance

by Jenny Hale

  “You two been up long?” Holly asked, directing the question toward Nana.

  “Long enough to have a nice chat about Joe’s wedding. I told him I’d be more than happy to have Katharine visit us here at the cabin once the snow melts.”

  “At some point, we probably should get you two together anyway to finalize things once we’ve got it all in motion,” Joe added. “Your eggs are getting cold,” he said.

  She tried to decipher his look, but she couldn’t get a thing from it.

  “Sorry,” she said, scooping up a forkful. “Nana, I’m heading to Rhett’s in a minute. Want me to take over some of those Christmas cookies you made?” Holly took a bite of her eggs, her other hand on her phone, texting madly. She didn’t like this new atmosphere and she needed the distance from Joe to begin right now.

  She texted: Rhett, you up? I’m coming over.

  The message felt so natural, like old times. Except that she had no idea what she was going to say to Rhett when they saw each other face to face. But she’d better figure it out because she’d just hit send. Holly grabbed her coffee, Nana’s obvious happiness showing after she’d made contact, causing Holly to swallow the fiery liquid too quickly.

  Her phone pinged.

  Can’t wait. I’ll send Buddy with the tractor if I can get him. Keep you posted.

  Joe caught sight of it before meeting her eyes. When he did, he flashed that artificial smile. Why did Holly get the feeling that today was going to get complicated?

  * * *

  “Oh my stars!” Kay said at the door, grabbing Holly and burying her in a warm hug. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? I missed ya last night at Otis’s. Rhett says you were there but you went home early. Not feeling well?” Her youthful-looking face was crumpled in concern, the soft brown curls that had always brushed her cheeks pulled back today.

  “You could say that,” Holly said to Rhett’s mother, the woman who’d been her riding coach every summer. Kay Burton had three horses: Strap, Bo, and Imogene. Imogene was the gentlest of the three, and Holly had learned to ride her unbridled through the fields. Imogene could stop on a dime and make turns by voice commands and tiny taps of Holly’s feet. Every summer day, after practice, she and Rhett would take a bag full of carrots from their garden and feed the horses while they cooled off in the barn.

  “Well, Otis’s tea has that affect on people.” She winked at Holly.

  “Brought you some of Nana’s cookies.” Holly held out the tin. Nana had been eager to make one tin for Buddy, who’d graciously picked up Holly and taken her to Rhett’s, grinning the whole way, and another tin for Kay.

  “You know how I love your nana’s baking!” Kay linked arms with Holly, pulling her inside. “Get yourself out of the cold before you catch one!” Then, she called up the stairs, “Rhett! Rhett! Holly’s here!” just like she always had through the years. Miss Kay, as Holly called her when they were young, had a rule: no girls upstairs. So every time Holly came over, Miss Kay yelled up the stairs to Rhett and he came bouncing down them, already smiling like he knew something special that Holly hadn’t been told yet.

  “Come on into the kitchen and wait for Rhett. I’ll get us a cup of coffee.” Kay pulled two mugs from the cabinet and started the machine, filling it with grounds and water.

  Holly walked over to the corner of the room where Rhett’s Gibson guitar was sitting, the one he’d saved up for by cutting lawns all over Nashville and fixing cars for five years. It was his baby. She ran her fingers along the neck of it, the strings humming with her touch, and suppressed the pain of losing her best friend for Kay’s benefit.

  Kay patted Holly’s shoulders before returning to the counter and checking the carafe still filling with coffee. “What have you been up to these last few years? I heard you fixed up your papa’s cabin. Anything else exciting?” The coffeemaker gurgled as Kay stretched across the counter to retrieve the little dish of sugar.

  “Yes, ma’am, I did fix it up. The rest of the time I’ve been taking care of Nana and working in town.”

  “Wish you and Rhett could’ve caught up once or twice.”

  A tiny shot of anger pinged through Holly as she thought about how close she worked to Music Row, yet Rhett hadn’t even tried to reach out to her. They could’ve had lunch between recording times when he’d come home from touring. But then again, she knew his schedule was tight because only a day after news from her friends of him being home to record a new album, she’d seen him live on some television program up in New York.

  “Hey.” Rhett appeared on the other side of the room.

  “Speak of the devil,” Kay said. “You drinking coffee after nine in the morning these days or is it out of style?” She smirked at her son, but his eyes were already on Holly.

  “I’m good,” he said. “I don’t need a cup, but thank you, Mama.”

  There was a different air to him this morning. He was more settled, his expression almost humbled. Holly guessed he’d probably had to answer a whole lot of questions after she left. He looked a little tired too, and she imagined he’d been up tossing and turning with the rest of them last night. His hair was back to normal—no style in it this morning—and he had a slight scruff on his face.

  “I promise to let you two catch up, Mama,” he said, “but can I talk to Holly alone for a little while? It’s been a long time…”

  “Yes you can,” Kay said with a doting smile. “Get the half and half out the fridge for her in case she wants some in her coffee. Holly, do you take half and half or milk?”

  Holly smiled. She hadn’t had a chance to see Kay since Rhett left, and it was nice to have her fluttering around them again. That was how Kay always was: wanting to please people. She liked it when her guests had their feet up, something to drink in their hands, and a smile on their face. She’d buzz around all day, catering to everybody because that was what made her the happiest.

  “I’ll take the half and half,” Holly said.

  “I got it.” Rhett shooed Kay away kindly and opened the refrigerator door, grabbing the little carton of cream and milk mixture and setting it down, and Kay left them, heading upstairs.

  Holly, being used to rooting around their kitchen like she was one of Kay’s kids herself, washed her hands at the sink and then grabbed a spoon from the drawer where Kay always kept them. She poured herself a coffee before settling across from Rhett at the kitchen table.

  “I suppose you want to talk about last night,” he said quietly with no introductions. “Before you say anything, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dump all that on you, but I hadn’t expected to see you there and then I could tell you were upset with me. And you’d brought someone… The whole thing just caught me off guard, and you know how I get when things make me uptight.”

  She knew exactly how he got. Whenever something was bothering him, Rhett got irritable. She’d almost forgotten it, though, because it took a whole lot to trouble him. Heat coursed through her face as she made the connection that his feelings for her had really gotten to him, but regardless of how calm he was now, and how lovely it had been to see Kay again, she was still angry with him. Holly stirred in her cream and sugar and then wrapped both hands around her mug.

  “Thank you for your apology but it’s not enough, Rhett. Last night was worse because of how you left things. We need to talk about that first. I still think you should’ve at least come back when Papa died. Nana and I needed you and you didn’t stop for a second to be there for us. After all Papa had done for you, coming back then was the least you could do.”

  He nodded, contemplative. “I just couldn’t, Holly. I’d have to see you and all I wanted to do was be with you. I was afraid to comfort you for fear I couldn’t handle my emotions about us. You didn’t need that when you were trying to grieve Papa.” He rolled his head on his shoulders. “And losing Papa took me back to those days after my dad…”

  He was struggling to get the words out, which wasn’t like Rhett at all. He al
ways had words for everything. But she understood because Rhett had been only five when his father passed away in the car crash, just old enough to know something terrible had happened and be able to process it. Kay took Rhett to counseling for years, but he never really got over it because Rhett and his daddy did everything together. The only thing that made it better for Rhett was when Papa stopped by, so every day that he was in Leiper’s Fork, Papa asked Kay if he could pick up Rhett and take him to the cabin to fish in the pond down the hill or help Papa wash his car—anything to support little Rhett as he came through the loss.

  Rhett stared at her, his eyes filling with tears, so vulnerable. “I missed Papa like I missed my own dad, and I knew it was my place to comfort you, but I also knew I wouldn’t be strong when you needed me.”

  Holly’s anger slid right out of her in that moment, and there he was: her best friend.

  “I thought you’d just forgotten about us all,” she said, her voice breaking.

  “How could you ever think that?” He leaned in, his face right in front of hers, his tears still present.

  “You didn’t give me any reason to think otherwise.”

  “I didn’t handle it well at all.” He shook his head. “Any of it. My emotions got the better of me and all I can do is try to make it up to you.” He took her hand and she resisted the urge to pull it away, her outrage over his absence still right on the surface despite their moment together. She’d been angry with him for so long now, it was difficult to feel anything else.

  “I know you were hurting too, but you handled it selfishly. We could’ve gotten through it together. And whatever you felt for me, we could’ve figured that out too. Together.”

  “Whatever I feel for you,” he corrected her. “I should’ve kissed you before I left. I wanted to but something stopped me.”

  Holly restrained herself from dragging her hands down her face in frustration. He hadn’t even given her enough time to stop being furious with him before he came at her with something else. She longed for the simpler times.

  “You’re in your head so much,” he pointed out. “Just be, Holly.” He intertwined his fingers in hers. “I know what we should do. I know what we’re best at.”

  She met his gaze.

  “Let’s write a song.”

  He couldn’t have said anything better. Songwriting was Rhett’s way of channeling his emotions and her way of shutting everything else off. It took all the problems and set them aside, the music pushing its way to the forefront and giving them both a much-needed break from reality. And even though all their issues were still there, she wanted to forget them for just a little while and be with her best friend.

  Rhett dropped her hand and stood up to get his guitar. “Come on.” He nodded toward the living room. “Bring your coffee.”

  Rhett sat down on the sofa, the guitar poised on his lap. Those recognizable fingers of his ran along the strings the way they did whenever he was thinking about writing. “Would you get my notebook from the drawer over there?” He pointed to the antique secretary desk where he always kept it.

  The familiarity of the process was a welcoming change from everything that had been going on. She retrieved a pencil and the battered notebook and brought them over, opening to a clean page before setting the pad on the table. Rhett was plucking the strings, trying to find that chord that would pull all his thoughts into a single first line. That was his method. Hearing the process was like music itself, the tune of their younger years.

  He turned toward her and smiled before singing, “I’ve got this girl…” He moved along the strings, the chords fast and bluesy. “I thought I’d found.” He leaned over his guitar and scratched the words onto his notebook, humming the tune as he wrote them. Then he went back to his guitar. “Don’t know what’s left of me when she’s not around.” He hit a big chord, his frustration coming out in song. “And she’s gone,” he held that last word, his eyes moving over to her, bringing her back to the present. There was a screech on the strings from his fingers, the music stopping. He didn’t write the last line down and she knew his head had gotten the best of him, making even writing difficult today.

  “If this song is about me, then I hope you know that I haven’t gone anywhere. You have.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not true. I saw you at Otis’s. The way you look at that guy you’re with, you’re gone.”

  Her breath caught. “You’ve misinterpreted things,” she said.

  He raised his eyebrows in doubt, his arm slung over the neck of the guitar. “Have I, Holly?”

  “Yes.” The word came out demanding that he believe it.

  “I don’t think so. He’s not exactly subtle with his feelings for you either. Watching you two is what made me want to explode.”

  Holly struggled for a response, panic slicing through every thought. Did she and Joe have some sort of obvious chemistry? Had everyone seen it last night…?

  But then it hit her: Rhett was bluffing. That had to be it. He was feeling her out to see if he should make a move. Because, while he was self-centered at times, he was a good person and, now sober in the light of morning, he wouldn’t interfere if he thought he might ruin her happiness. He just had an odd way of approaching the situation.

  “I only just met him—”

  Rhett set his guitar down with a giant exhale, stopping her in midsentence. “Great. You just met the guy and you’re head over heels.”

  Maybe he wasn’t bluffing. He had it completely wrong, but at the same time, she didn’t like how he was handling it at all. What if she had been head over heels? She’d have liked a little support from the person she’d known for so long. Jealous or not, he should man up and be happy for her.

  “You know, you don’t consider anyone else’s feelings but your own, Rhett. How do you think it feels for me to hear that you aren’t supportive of what I might want? You make assumptions and get all pouty and it makes me so angry I can’t stand it. Grow up.”

  He stared at her, fury growing behind his eyes. “Grow up? How about the fact that I know you so well that I feel like I can tell you anything? That’s not being pouty. That’s called passion. Have you ever experienced real desire for something, Holly—the kind of feeling that would make you do anything? Because that’s what I feel for you.”

  Holly slumped back onto the sofa, her head so full of confusion that she couldn’t speak. Why was life so hard? Here was Rhett, telling her that he was totally in love with her, and yet she kept going back to the little moments she’d spent with Joe, who was unattainable in the most permanent way. On paper, Rhett was perfect for her: they had the same interests, they’d grown up together, she knew everything about him, her family loved him, and he had undeniable feelings for her. She sat up and faced him, unsure of what to say.

  “One thing I’ve learned is that in life, I don’t move forward without risk and determination. That’s what got me where I am, and I have to trust it.” He put his hands on her face and before she could process whether or not she wanted him to, he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her.

  Nineteen

  “You’re a block of ice!” Nana said when Holly came through the door.

  “I walked home.” Holly hadn’t waited for Buddy. She’d told Rhett to let Kay know she’d catch up with her, she needed some time, and she’d left, the fresh crisp air doing her good. Her teeth were chattering and she just knew her ankle was swelling again—she shouldn’t have pushed herself—but she had to get out of there.

  “Yes, I know. Kay called in a tizzy. She said you’d run off without even telling her goodbye. That’s not like you.” Nana helped Holly unwind her scarf. “I’ll get you some hot cocoa and a blanket to warm you up, and then I’d be delighted if you would explain yourself.”

  Holly scanned the room for Joe, and she was glad to see his closed door. She slid off her boots and coat, and shuffled over to the fire, sitting down in front of it. Nana wrapped a throw around her shoulders and went into the kitchen.<
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  The feeling had just started to come back into her fingers when Nana came back, handing her a warm mug full of hot chocolate with whipped cream. Nana sat down in the corner chair, her own mug resting in her lap, her feet crossed at the ankle. Slightly thawed enough to move, Holly got up and limped over to the sofa that sat in the center of the room, the fire sending its heat her way.

  “I don’t know what to do, Nana,” she confessed. “I’m so confused.”

  “About what, child?” Nana’s concern was clear until her mug hid it when she took a slow sip.

  “Can I ask you something?” She really didn’t even know where to begin, so she figured this was as good a place as any to start to get answers. “Why aren’t you angry with Rhett for not coming home when Papa died?”

  Nana stared at her for a second, clearly surprised by the direction of the conversation, but then she took in a breath and seemed to regroup. “He sent me a lovely card with a letter, telling me he was sorry, and that he wasn’t in the country. While I’d have liked to see him, I was happy because he was out there doing something with his life, and I was okay with that.”

  “He sent you a letter?”

  “Yes. He said he loved me, and it was too hard, but if I needed him, to call.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “You never asked. I got hundreds of cards from all kinds of loved ones.”

  “Well that makes me feel a little better about it. But I wonder why he didn’t reach out to me? I would’ve liked to have his support too.”

  Nana nodded knowingly. “I’d imagine it would be difficult for him, given his feelings for you. People handle grief in very different ways.”

  “I suppose. But he still should’ve come.”

  “He’s home now. And you were barely there any time at all. Want to tell me why you chose hypothermia over waiting for Buddy to bring you home?”