Noel, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  “You should see his frequent Sunday breakfasts. Oh, wait, they haven’t changed since we were kids.”

  “There’s no way I could live in Alabama; no offense.” But she regretted the words as soon as she’d said them. Why had she come out with that?

  “A lot of us manage to live here in the backwoods pretty well with internet and everything.” His Southern drawl increased hugely then.

  He didn’t exactly sound offended, but she understood how snotty her comment must have come across. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve been in a big city for a long time. I don’t have anything against my home. It’s—different.” But even as she said it, Bailey knew she hadn’t communicated accurately. The fact was, from the moment she’d flown off to L.A., Bailey’d moved beyond Ministry, Alabama. Or she’d tried.

  “It’s your life and your journey, Bailey. Only you can decide what’s going to make you happy.”

  Why did that somehow feel like he knew something she didn’t? “Are you trying to Mr. Miyagi me, oh, wise one?” she joked, making reference to one of their favorite shared movies, The Karate Kid. The movie had been a find from her daddy’s collection, and they’d watched it over and over. Mr. Miyagi was the wise karate master in the film.

  He burst out laughing. “I can’t believe you even remember that.”

  “I don’t plan what I say. It just comes out,” she admitted.

  “We’d better get to work or we’ll be here all night,” he said, still smiling at her reference. “Looks like your daddy kept everything, so maybe we’ll find the old Karate Kid VHS tape.”

  Bailey looked around the attic, noticing a couple of empty sockets in the ceiling. “We need a couple more light bulbs and a ladder.”

  “On it.” He sprinted down the attic stairs.

  While he ran the errand, Bailey noticed something tallish in the corner and pulled off another dust cover. And discovered a fully-decorated artificial Christmas tree—the one from her young childhood. The one with the shiny star on top. Memories of her mother came back in sudden, shocking clarity, so unexpected in their brilliance. Momma had lifted her high to place the star on it and Daddy had secured it so that it shone bright against the colored lights. The ornaments were a mix of ones they’d made and porcelain ones that had obviously been collected from other places and people. It was an eclectic and artistic tree. A forgotten tree. It brought back emotions and memories from a child’s beautiful mind. Perfect Christmas memories.

  “Wow, what did you discover over there?” Seth came back, dragging a ladder in one arm and holding a couple light bulbs in the other.

  Bailey pulled the smallish tree gently from its nesting spot. It wasn’t heavy but she didn’t want to upset the ornaments or the lights, though it was highly doubtful the lights would work after so many years. “It’s our tree from before Momma died. I remember the last Christmas decorating it together. I can’t believe it’s still in such great shape.”

  There was one particular ornament that sparked her memory, a red orb with Noel in white on one side and a sweet snowflake on the other. It had been Bailey’s favorite as a little girl. Her momma had painted it, she remembered, now, seeing flashes of the two of them in her mind, painting together. Of course, her attempts had hardly been recognizable as anything but blobs of red and green.

  “Wow. What a find. Let’s plug it in and see if the lights still work.” Seth gently took the tree and carried it, the ornaments making jingling sounds, across the crowded room to an outlet beside the sofa against the wall.

  He plugged it in. Nothing. “I figured the lights were too old.” Then, Seth tapped on a few bulbs and the whole thing lit up like magic. Bailey inhaled with wonder at the sight.

  “Let’s leave it on while we look through some of the other stuff,” Seth suggested.

  Bailey nodded, blinking back tears. The tree cast a glow around the entire attic, making the room a cozy replica of Christmas past. She couldn’t stop staring at the red snowflake ornament. Noel.

  Seth installed the two missing light bulbs overhead and doubled the brightness in the space, which allowed them to see the items along the edges of the room. The things that likely had been there the longest. Her momma’s things.

  As Bailey lifted a sheet that covered what appeared to be an old wooden trunk, she shivered. Something about it filled her with anticipation. As she bent down to lift the lid, the musty odor of age and dust entered her nostrils and caused her to sneeze.

  “Bless you. Need some help?” Seth was at the ready to lend a hand.

  The lid was heavy, but she managed to open it. “No thanks. I got it.” It took Bailey a minute of rifling through to realize what she’d discovered. Several hand-bound books. Manuscripts and journals. She picked one up: MY BLUEBIRD by Valerie Boone. Something clicked in Bailey’s memory. Momma had called Bailey her bluebird.

  It was a child’s storybook, complete with watercolor illustrations and rhyming prose. It took the reader through a series of outdoor scenarios through the eyes of a bluebird. Searching for the fattest worm in the woods, perching in the trees and building a nest, and flying high over the water. Bailey got lost in her mother’s story and found herself wondering what would happen next.

  But as she finished and turned the pages back to the beginning, Bailey noticed the cursive writing, To my darling Bailey, my very own bluebird. Have a merry Christmas, angel girl. I hope you remember how very much I love you. Love, Momma

  It was dated the Christmas her mother passed away. Bailey’s confusion turned to anger. Why had she never seen this precious gift from her mother? What if she’d had it to treasure throughout her childhood? Things might have been different had she owned something tangible. Something to hold and read. Bailey felt the love of her momma flow to her from this book. This story written only for her.

  “What’s wrong?” Seth realized she’d gotten quiet. He’d been on the other side of the room uncovering other items.

  She could only hand him the book in response while fresh tears rolled as quickly as she could wipe them away.

  Timing would have it that Daddy and Joella made their entrance at that moment.

  “Well, what’s going on up here?” He took a moment to take in the furniture, the Christmas tree, and Bailey sobbing while Seth held the precious bluebird storybook. “I do believe I’ve stepped back in time. Sugar, what’s got you so upset?”

  Seth took the opportunity to hand him the book.

  His expression turned sad, but he smiled. “Ah, I remember your momma working on this for you. She couldn’t wait to give it to you for Christmas that year. I never knew what happened to it. She got so sick around that time and went into the hospital. I spent all my time with her because I knew I was losing her. My beautiful Valerie.”

  “You never thought how much this might mean to me? How I might treasure something like this from my mother?” Bailey demanded through her tears.

  He shook his head, grimly. “Remember when I said I made mistakes?” he asked. “I didn’t handle your momma’s passing with grace, sugar. In fact, I barely remembered to feed either of us. I have a lot of regrets when it comes to you.” His expression became so sorrowful.

  “I remember some of it. And I know how much you loved her,” Bailey said, softening a little.

  “I asked friends and family to pack up everything and put it up here—” he motioned around the room—“like as it was the day she died. It’s all here. Everything. I was so torn up for several years. Then, when you got older, and I wasn’t grieving so much, I just never seemed to find a good time to come up here and open up the old trunks. I’d forgotten completely about the books. I would never have kept them from you.”

  Joella put a hand on his arm. “What a wonderful tribute to Valerie. I had no idea you’d done that, Aames. I remember how hard losing her was,” she said, appearing unruffled by his deep love and grief for his departed wife.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” Daddy said and patted her hand. He turned toward B
ailey and said in earnest, “I can only hope you love someone like that, Bailey. Just once in your life. Then you’ll understand.”

  Bailey could only nod. What he said rang true and deep. She craved that kind of love, or at least the ability to allow herself that kind of love.

  “It’s okay, Daddy. I understand now why so much of my childhood is up here.”

  “I couldn’t get rid of it until you gave me permission. I felt guilty for buying new things. You’ve been gone, and I felt like I needed you to say goodbye to the old ones.”

  Bailey laughed at that. “The plaid sofa can go for sure. I’ll let you know about the rest once I go through it all.”

  “Deal. And I’m still sorry you never got your storybooks from your momma. She spent a lot of time writing. At night and when you were napping. Even before you were born. It was her favorite thing to do besides take care of us.”

  “I never knew that about her until Maureen Laroux said something about it the other day,” Bailey said. “I wish I had. It makes me feel like we had something in common—a connection.” Tragically so. Since Bailey left home so soon after she’d graduated high school, there wasn’t a lot of time to find out much of this. People hadn’t spoken to a young child about her deceased momma. At least not much.

  “Oh, baby, y’all were so much alike in your creative tendencies. I hate that I never realized these were things you needed to know. It was easier to not discuss it. Easier for me, that is. It feels nice to do it now.”

  “Thanks, Daddy. I’m happy to hear you say that.” She hugged him tight.

  When they pulled apart, his eyes were misty. He cleared his throat and turned toward the colorful Christmas tree. “I’d nearly forgotten about the tree. The three of us decorated it together. We can move it downstairs if you’d like,” Daddy suggested.

  An idea entered Bailey’s mind. “Since you’ve already got one, maybe I can move it to my apartment while I’m here. It’s not very big.”

  “I can help you with that,” Seth suggested.

  Bailey turned to where he’d been quiet for the past few minutes while she and Daddy hashed out their issues. “Thank you.”

  His blue eyes twinkled. “You’re welcome.”

  “The old folks are gonna go downstairs and sit in front of the TV while y’all finish poking around up here. All that cooking’s got me needing my recliner,” Daddy said.

  Joella rolled her eyes and took his hand. “Come on, Poppa Christmas.”

  That warmed Bailey’s heart. Joella loved Daddy and would care for him no matter what. Because she had no siblings, Bailey worried for him. Now she understood he wasn’t alone.

  *

  Seth watched as Bailey learned how deeply Aames had grieved for Valerie Boone. She’d been everything to him. Seth couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for the man to raise a needy young daughter who’d just lost her mother.

  The love between Aames and Valerie was something to behold. But Seth had to admit the emotional pain he’d endured after Bailey left for college had been practically crippling. Yes, they’d been young, but that hadn’t mattered to his heart. She hadn’t died, but she might as well have. Yet he’d been expected to continue to breathe, get up in the morning, and behave as if almost nothing had changed.

  All he could do now was help the woman he loved while she was here. Yes, he still loved Bailey Boone. He’d always understood it to be true, but sitting around the dinner table and spending time going through old things with her had crystallized it for him. It was like time hadn’t passed. He couldn’t decide if that made him pathetic or heroic. To love someone so much for so long without any return on his feelings.

  Pathetic for sure. But he wasn’t pathetic enough to tell her. Yes, he’d dated some, even given it a decent try. But he’d promised himself a long time ago that if he couldn’t give a woman his whole heart, he’d be cheating them both. So, here he sat.

  Once they were alone again, Bailey began looking through the box of books and items that were her mothers. “Oh, my. I had no idea she was so talented and creative,” she said, wonder in her tone. “Seth, come see these.”

  He moved beside her to see what she was looking at. As they worked their way through Valerie’s journals and writings, he understood more why learning about her mother was so important to Bailey. These were the missing pieces of her personal puzzle. They helped her to better understand herself and where she came from.

  “I feel such a connection to her,” Bailey said. “She says things in her journals about me as a child that I never knew about myself. That I identified letters as young as two years old. That I loved to paint and draw before I could write.”

  “That makes sense,” Seth said. “It sounds like you were creating and trying to express yourself in symbols and color in art even before you understood what writing even was.”

  Bailey sat back for a minute, her eyebrows pulled down in a frown.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I’ve stopped. Writing. I’ve stopped writing. I don’t even journal anymore.” She stared him directly in the eye then. Her gorgeous golden-brown gaze was steady.

  “That’s a darn shame. Maybe you could take some time off or go on a retreat someplace quiet and, you know, get your mojo back?” Seth wanted to only say the right thing here. Be supportive and encouraging but not too over the top. He didn’t want to blow this.

  “I use so many excuses. But you’re right; there’s no excuse. I gave up.” Determination creeped into her expression. He knew that look and was relieved to see it.

  He smiled. “Good. So, does this mean you’ve decided to get back to it?”

  “I think maybe it’s time. You always knew how to bring out the best in me.” She leaned toward him on the sofa and he instinctively put an arm around her. They sat like that for a while. He felt her relax, her head against his chest, their hips resting against one another. It was comfortable and brought back memories of watching television together as teens. Of course, having Bailey beside him also caused other feelings within Seth. Ones he’d best ignore, knowing they’d go nowhere at the moment.

  “I guess I’d better get back to the job at hand,” she muttered.

  “I’m not rushing you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The chaotic entry of the trucks into Ministry was met with the curious eyes of locals. Hollywood had arrived in Alabama amid her Christmas finery. The offloading of eighteen wheelers was done in a smelly ballet; a cloud of diesel, the sounds of hydraulic brakes, and the growl of engines. The entire downtown shook, nearly rattling the ornaments on the giant tree, reminding Bailey of a scene from Whoville as the Grinch looked on.

  Some of the trucks left their entire trailers behind, while others’ trailers were emptied by movers, then hauled away. The erecting of the small city that would serve the movie set had begun within Ministry. The talent trailers and honey wagon were lined up and in an organized row behind the downtown in the overflow parking lots so they weren’t an eyesore to the community but were close enough to the square for use.

  Several buses and a few private cars rolled in from Huntsville carrying cast members. Another couple buses transported crew. Those enormous rolling homes wouldn’t make it down her daddy’s dirt road with all its sharp curves, ruts, and potholes. They’d determined, while the police jury had graded the road in the past couple days, the most efficient way to move the crew all at once to and from the set would be on the yellow school bus.

  The catering trucks began their magic without delay; after all, these new arrivals had to eat their next meal in Ministry. Regular diets, vegetarian, vegan. All were accommodated. A catering tent, or portable mess hall, was erected within minutes of arrival.

  Before the parking and offloading of trailers and supplies, Bailey and Alexis met with the team of studio professionals—which included the executive producer, producer, assistant producer, director, assistant director, gaffer, contractor, and unit production manager—as soon as they arri
ved and directed them as to what and who went where.

  Bailey and Alexis both had a full clipboard filled with notes and information. They also had maps of the area to show them where and how things were to be parked and put into place. It was standard procedure and they all knew their roles. That was, after they asked her and Alexis a million questions.

  As soon as they’d carefully gone over everything, her boss, Mr. Stone, asked her to stay back after the others had left the bus where they’d had their meeting. “Great job, Bailey. The higher ups are impressed with how you stepped up and found this location on short notice. It’s rare to have things fall through during filming. Coulda been a real mess.”

  Bailey understood that mess would’ve fallen squarely on his shoulders, whether it was fair or not. “I’m glad I had a hometown that fit the bill.” She smiled at him. “So far, things have gone well. I hope the crew don’t mind their accommodations.” Referring to the bunk houses.

  “These folks have been in rougher places in the past. Sounds like the camp setting might be only a slight inconvenience. They are mostly pretty young. We can make sure to put the most flexible ones on the top bunks.” He laughed at that.

  Bailey let out a breath she’d been holding. She wasn’t certain of how that would be received. Hopefully once everyone got established, things would settle into a routine and an acceptable new normal.

  Alexis was waiting for her with Jem who’d followed Mr. Stone out of the bus. “Everything okay?” Jem asked. “He didn’t say anything to me.”

  “Yes. He just thanked me for bringing the filming here.”

  Alexis sighed loudly. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  “Alright, time to get this party started,” Jem said. Her six-foot frame in high-heeled boots had her towering above them all. She began barking orders to several crew members who worked directly under her.