Noel, Alabama

by Susan Sands

  Bailey’s inability to use both her hands proved to be far more of a hindrance than she’d predicted. And Daddy’s ability to make fudge on the stovetop had proved to be far less successful than Bailey’d believed.

  When Bailey had asked him where his candy thermometer was, he’d stared at her blankly. That was after he’d begun stirring the ingredients together on the burner and the mixture came to a nice rolling boil. “Okay, I guess we can try using the old water-in-the-glass method instead.” Again, he’d stared at her in question. Bailey hadn’t personally ever tried that method, having always had a working candy thermometer when she’d attempted such things. She’d read all about it though.

  Bailey wasn’t at all sure this would work with only her limited motion. But Joella, bless her, arrived just in time to save the fudge. Seth wasn’t there yet, so that was a good thing, Bailey thought.

  “What on earth is happening in here?” Joella asked as she looked around at the enormous mess they’d created trying to work as a team.

  Bailey and Daddy both looked up at her, and Bailey imagined their expressions might have matched, perhaps slightly panicked, and relieved that Joella had arrived to save the day. Joella was nothing if not proficient in the kitchen.

  “Daddy doesn’t have a candy thermometer and doesn’t know how to use the water-in-the-glass to test for the softball stage,” Bailey explained, not admitting that maybe she didn’t either.

  Joella nodded. “Okay. How long has the fudge been boiling?” she asked.

  “Only a few minutes,” Bailey said.

  “Aames, you scoot and get me a clear glass from the cabinet and fill it with cold water, would you please? Bailey, could you hand me a teaspoon from the drawer?”

  Bailey did as she was bid.

  Bailey and Daddy watched as Joella, with the hands of an old pro dipped the teaspoon into the hot mixture and dropped a tiny bit into the water, then she pulled the dollop back up after a second and tried it between her thumb and forefinger as if trying to roll it into a ball. “Not quite yet.”

  They all let out a collective sigh that the fudge hadn’t overcooked.

  “I’ve got this. Aames, you want to go ahead and put a fire under the chili and get it hot? Bailey, you can turn on the oven to four hundred for the bread. I left it on the bar in the bag along with the salad.”

  Joella ran a pizza joint, so she was accustomed to multi-tasking and delegating in the kitchen. Before they knew it, they were doing their parts to finish dinner, and Joella was spreading the newly finished fudge into a greased pan.

  Seth wasn’t far behind Joella. He came in after a quick knock on the door carrying her fragile Christmas tree, brought from Mrs. Wiggins’s place. “Where should I set this up?” he asked.

  Every time he entered a room, or approached, she caught her breath. It was like replaying a dream scenario she’d imagined in her mind for the last twelve years. She’d fantasized about it endlessly. That boy, the love of her life, who was now a man, returning to her life. A wonderful, helpful, incredibly gorgeous man. One who was still crazy about her.

  “The sunroom?” Bailey suggested. Since there was already a tree in the family room, and her bedroom was upstairs, and decidedly tiny, it made sense. Plus, she liked the sunroom. It was cozy and surrounded by nature.

  Seth nodded and they made eye contact. Bailey got the sensation of being in high school all over again. In a good way.

  “I’ll come and help.”

  “How about you come and tell me where to put it?” he suggested.

  The two of them left their elders getting dinner on the table and went out into the sunroom, which was right off the family room and connected to the back porch. The story was that Momma had asked that they make their existing screen porch into a sunroom so she could sit out there and read and write any time of the year.

  It was surrounded by windows and overlooked the back of the property, which was nothing but woods and a small pond. Bailey had had a swing set off the side of the house when she was little, but it had been fenced in so she couldn’t wander off to the pond. Daddy had been so concerned about her safety that he’d made certain she could swim by age two.

  Even now the room was cozy, with a braided rug, a small sofa and two chairs, coffee table, and a lamp and side table. There were magazines, so the room was used at least some of the time, it appeared. “In this corner?” Seth asked Bailey.

  “Perfect.” And it was. The scale of the room was smaller than the two-story family room. The tree fit nicely in the space with its lower ceiling.

  “There you go.” He turned after plugging it in. “I hardly remember this room.”

  The colored lights from the tree glowed on the walls and created a warmth that Bailey absorbed like sunshine. “Yeah. You and I didn’t spend much time in here.”

  “I wonder why?” he mused.

  She laughed softly. “Probably because there wasn’t a TV in here.”

  “Well, that makes perfect sense. We did a lot of television watching back in those days.”

  Joella called them for dinner. “We’ve got a little surprise thank you waiting in the kitchen,” Bailey said.

  His eyes brightened a little. “For me?”

  “Not a big deal, but come on, you’ll see.” Bailey took his big hand in her good one, noticing the callouses and how right it felt. How long had it been since they’d held hands? She led him toward the kitchen.

  *

  Seth wondered if he imagined it or was Bailey sending signals he’d been hoping for? She’d seemed to let down her guard since her fall. Yes, she was vulnerable right now because she’d been physically hurt, but something about her behavior toward him was new.

  When she’d grabbed his hand to lead him toward the kitchen, the moment had been so natural, light and happy even. He’d not seen Bailey like that in years. And even years ago, she’d lived with such an edge to her personality, like she wasn’t ever quite comfortable in her own skin. Tonight, despite her physical pain, she appeared relaxed emotionally, and without that edge she’d always carried around.

  Seth couldn’t allow the tiny surge of hope; there were so many barriers to both their happiness. The obvious one being the distance of a couple thousand miles. The other being the years they’d spent apart. Why was Bailey behaving like she was his girlfriend again?

  “You said something about a surprise?” he teased, when they sat down at the dining room table to eat.

  “Looks like you’ll have to wait a little while,” Bailey said, indicating the food on the table. “After dinner.”

  The chili Aames had simmered on the stove all afternoon diverted his attention for the next half hour from his conflicted thoughts of Bailey’s strange behavior. That man could cook.

  “Did you use venison for the chili, Daddy?” Bailey asked.

  “Yes, I did. Had some backstrap. Gotta make room in the freezer.”

  “You squandered backstrap for chili?” Joella asked in a somewhat horrified tone.

  “Don’t you worry; there’s plenty more,” Daddy reassured her. Backstrap was the leanest and most tender of deer meat.

  Seth had to agree with his mother; backstrap should be reserved for better use. Seth used to hunt with his daddy as a kid. Sometimes they’d be joined by Aames and Bailey. Bailey mostly sat in the stand and drew or wrote, even when they were little.

  After they’d cleared the table, Bailey came out of the kitchen balancing a plate piled high with fudge with her good hand. “This was a collaborative effort, but your momma saved it from being a disaster.”

  “Oh my.” He smiled in appreciation. “That is a nice surprise. You remembered it was my favorite.”

  “I hope it’s still your favorite. It’s a little token of my appreciation for all the times you’ve been there for me since I arrived in Ministry. I couldn’t have pulled off getting the cast and crew settled and things ready for filming without all your help.”

  “Just doin’ my job, ma’am.” He did a fake h
at tip like a cowboy might’ve in an old Western movie.

  “I’m serious. There’s no way I could’ve done it without you.” She looked him straight in the eye then, which was something Bailey rarely did. Mostly, she’d avoided his eyes these days. Her sincere gaze affected him profoundly.

  He reached for a square of the fudge, filled with pecans, his absolute favorite.

  “Well, how is it?” Momma asked.

  He held up a hand to silence her, then said, “I’m having a moment here,” Seth said, his eyes closed in pure delight. Then he reached for a second piece. “Thanks to all of you. For not allowing this to burn or ruin, or whatever it was in danger of.”

  They were all now eating a square. “Yes, agreed. But next time, let’s figure out a better method,” Aames laughed.

  “Can I help with the cleanup?” Seth asked Aames and Joella since they were the ones who normally handled it.

  “No way. You can go up in the attic and get whatever it is that Bailey needs to keep herself occupied for the next couple weeks while she’s sitting around here. I don’t want her trying to go up there while I’m at work,” Aames said with a frown. “She’s forbidden me to do it because she says we’ve got a few weak spots in the floor up there.”

  Seth nodded. “Yes, sir, you do. And you shouldn’t go up there alone. I’ll go up and see about the floor after the holidays, but now, I’ll get what Bailey needs.”

  He turned to Bailey. “Tell me what you’re wanting from the attic.”

  She led him into the family room so they could talk. “I’m sorry to ask you to do one more thing for me.”

  Seth tried not to be offended. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m the one to go up there. And I don’t mind a bit.”

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to make more fudge, huh?” she teased.

  He gently placed his hands on either side of her face, drinking in the simple joy of looking at her. Her nearness, her smell, the heat radiating from her. He wanted to kiss her so badly. But if he did, then he would need to do it again and again…

  *

  Finally. He was going to kiss her. Bailey could feel his breath on her face. She wished he would wrap those big arms around her and hold her while he kissed her but she would settle for his hands on her face and his lips—oh, those finely chiseled lips.

  “You need any help getting things down?” Daddy called from the other room, completely ruining the magic of their moment.

  Seth closed his eyes in regret and took a step back, clearing his throat before answering, “Um, no, sir. I’ve got it.”

  Bailey grinned at him. “So, I never found my journals and all the writing I did growing up. Mostly the stuff from high school. It might be fun to see what I was thinking back then.”

  “You were thinking about me. Don’t you remember?” Seth said smoothly.

  Bailey rolled her eyes. “Well, sure, but I was writing stories. Lots of stories. And most of them didn’t involve you at all.”

  Seth appeared slightly miffed. “Okay. Fine. Maybe not everything had to do with me back then.”

  She ignored that. “There were paintings and drawings too. It might be fun to see those again. And the things Momma wrote. The little books and the things I haven’t had the chance to look through yet.”

  Seth nodded. “Okay. I’ll go up and have a look.”

  Bailey found herself naturally migrating to the sunroom where Seth had set up the old Christmas tree. The room had such charm. There was a cane chair with a tiny matching ottoman Daddy had recently recovered with a nice light blue with white flowers that called to her. It also spoke of Joella’s influence, as did many of the nice recent touches in the house.

  The chair was comfy, and Bailey could tell her earlier medication was wearing off. Instead of another pain pill, she would try an anti-inflammatory this time to see if she was ready to step down every other time to a lesser painkiller, as suggested by Doctor Nick at the hospital when she was ready.

  Bailey yawned. By the end of the day, she’d been getting very sleepy. Of course the very filling meal probably added to the huge yawn she was currently in the middle of when Seth reappeared, carrying a huge box marked BAILEY.

  “Thoughts on where to put this?” he asked, grunting at the weight.

  She pointed to a spot currently unoccupied next to a window. “I guess line them up along this wall.”

  A text came in from Alexis. There was a selfie of her with a cat on her lap. No way!

  Alexis: Miss you. Me ’n Scarlet O’ Hara chillin’ over here in Christmas Town. Hope you’re feeling better.

  Bailey tamped down her first response to ask if Alexis was drinking, and instead chose her emoji carefully and decided on basic heart eyes with her response.

  Bailey: Looks like a peace agreement was made between you two. Glad you’ve got company. Miss you both.

  After a few more minutes, Seth had brought down another two boxes and the trunk with her momma’s things. “You look like you could use a glass of tea.”

  The sheen of sweat across his forehead was a definitive fact that he’d worked up a thirst. Bailey stood carefully. Because, pain. She tried not to grimace; she really did.

  “You alright?” He was immediately at her side.

  “Yep. I’m headed to the kitchen for a prescription-strength ibuprofen and a glass of water.”

  He held out a hand. “I’ll take you up on that glass of tea.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After Seth and Joella left for the evening, Daddy came and found her in the sunroom going through some old journals. They were some writings she’d done in the smelly pit of preteen existence; part daily happenings, a little poetry, and some ideas for stories she might want to write someday. Bailey winced at her twelve-year-old angst. And there were many mentions of Seth. He’d been right about that, as she’d known he was.

  “Hi there. Find anything interesting?” he asked.

  Bailey grimaced. “Depends on your definition of interesting.”

  “I’m glad Seth was here to help out with those boxes.” He indicated them with an incline of his head.

  “Yes. This should keep me entertained while I’m here.”

  “Well, I’ve got something else I want to give you. Call it an early Christmas gift if you want. It’s been waiting for you for quite some time, but I decided to hold off until I felt the time presented itself. And here we are.”

  He handed over a large manila envelope to her usable hand.

  “What is it, Daddy?”

  “Oh, I forgot you can’t use both hands very well.” He opened it and helped spread some of the contents on the ottoman in front of the chair where she was sitting.

  “Take some time and look it all over. This is yours. Your legacy. Your inheritance.” He stared at her hard, unlike his usual lighthearted self, which clued Bailey in that this was a big deal.

  “Inheritance?” Bailey had a moment of pure panic. “You’re not—”

  “No. No, I’m perfectly fine, honey.” He continued, “But what good is this kind of inheritance unless you can do something with it that impacts your life while you’re young? Maybe create a legacy for your children.”

  Bailey stared at what was in front of her, her eyes tearing up as she began to read and comprehend what this was and what it meant. “Daddy, are you sure?” Her heart sped up a little at the possibilities.

  “Of course, darlin’.” His own eyes filled with tears. “No need letting things go to waste when I’m hoping to be here to watch you enjoy it. It’s an opportunity. It’s what your momma and I planned for. I’ve invested wisely and this will give you some flexibility to decide your future, or at least give you some room to try on a few things.”

  “I had no idea, Daddy. Why now?” Bailey asked, still in shock.

  “Because I sense you’re at a bit of a crossroads, and I don’t want your need to earn enough to eat keep you from following your dreams.”

  Bailey moved forward, sitting in front of him on the o
ttoman. “I’m going to think hard about what to do with this.” She hugged him tight with her good arm. “Thank you so much for loving me the way you do. I don’t deserve it.”

  “Of course you do, my love. Of course you do.” They pulled back. “And don’t make a decision out of guilt or obligation. You are free with this. Do what you want to do with all or part of it, not what you believe anyone else wants from you.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.”

  *

  Bailey’s mind became a whirling dervish of ideas as she tore through her old journals the next day. Not that she would actually develop the stories she’d had in her teens, but it was the kick in the pants her brain needed—a reminder of the raging creativity she’d had then. The beautiful imagination Bailey had squashed since moving to L.A.

  It hadn’t happened overnight. Technically, her undergraduate degree was in creative writing, with a minor in film, but she had taken drawing, painting, and even graphic design courses as well. While she didn’t have a master’s degree, the many additional courses added up to far more than her degree called for. Bailey learned that she was a true creative, something that wasn’t exactly celebrated in small-town Alabama while she’d been growing up. She’d been a weird kid to some.

  But over time, as she’d grunted her way through the film business, trying to find where she best fit, her creative juices had dried up and headed for the Hollywood Hills. Bailey’d been left with a decent-paying job that took all her time and energy, but left her no real hope or desire to follow her initial dreams for pursuing this career path in the first place.

  Going through the journals was like rediscovering who she was before she lost herself in adulthood. Yes, she’d been angsty and she’d wanted more. And Bailey had gotten all of it. But it had been a tradeoff. In that trade, she’d lost the most important things in her life. Love. Home. Family. Herself.

  Daddy had given her something last night that might allow Bailey to regain the parts of herself and her life she believed was beyond reach. She hadn’t worked it out yet, and it would be a huge change, but the very thought of pursuing something not only for herself, but for others, sparked a joy deep inside her soul.