Rekindled: A Holiday Romance

by Victoria J. Best

“I think you’ve been away too long. Everyone knows that one of the main rules of living in a small town is that you have to be used to other people knowing all of your business.”

  Bianca looked at me for a moment without answering. Mrs. Harrison came back in that time, dropping off our food and walking away. Bianca’s silence was killing me at this point, but I could tell she was thinking and weighing her words before she spoke.

  “The thing is, I don’t live here anymore. I forgot how oppressive small towns are.” Her face was apologetic because she once again reminded me of the fact that she wasn’t here to stay.

  We ate our food in silence, finishing quickly because of hunger but also because something else had shifted between us. This had been an odd day, one with confessions, fun, and now somber reminders that the things we wanted weren’t necessarily the same things the other person wanted. Especially when the other person was someone I was beginning to fall in love with for the second time.

  14

  Bianca

  “A little more to the left,” I directed as Garrett stood on a ladder positioning a star on top of his freshly cut Christmas tree.

  We got back from the diner almost thirty minutes before, ignoring the elephant in the room, and instead worked in amicable quiet to put the lights and bulbs on his tree. Our conversations were light since returning to his house, the heavy topics of earlier put away because everything had become too real too quick. Garrett had made it clear without saying a word that he wanted me to stay in Gandy’s Ridge. I had made it clear with the wrong words that I wasn’t going to stay. Though I had no timeline for when I would be leaving, I knew I would be. Sooner rather than later.

  “How about now?” he asked, stepping down from the ladder and back to meet me where I gazed up at the tree.

  I forced enthusiasm into my voice. “It looks great.”

  It wasn’t that I was unhappy decorating Garrett’s Christmas tree, quite the opposite, but my brain wouldn’t shut off. Today had been so much fun, especially going to the Christmas tree farm, that coming back to the reality of our situation let the air out of my enthusiasm.

  “You made me buy all of these extra decorations, so just like the church hall, you have to help me decorate,” Garrett said, handing me the long length of garland he’d just taken out of its package.

  I grabbed the garland but he didn’t let go. Instead, he used it to pull me towards him until I landed against his chest, my hands flattening over the hard planes. For a moment, I was frozen, the garland crunched between us, our eyes fastened to one another’s. His mouth slanted over mine, and I sank into him, some of the stress in my body floating away. By the time he released me, I felt a little like myself again.

  “Better?” he asked, the corner of his mouth hitching up in a smile.

  “Was I that obvious?” I tried to unravel the smashed and tangled garland as I walked over to the staircase.

  “You’ve barely said two words since we got back but you were so excited back at the tree farm. I was just trying to get that back. Did it work?” Garrett grabbed the other end of the garland I held, standing at the bottom of the stairs as I walked up, wrapping the length of it around the banister.

  I shrugged when I reached the top. “Maybe.” It was my turn to smirk at him.

  Garrett dropped his end of the garland, coming up the stairs to meet me where I stood on the landing at the top.

  “If it didn’t work, I’ll have to try harder.” He leaned down, scooping me into his arms, then carried me down the hall towards his bedroom.

  I let out a yelp as he tossed me onto the bed. “What about decorating?” I asked innocently as his body covered mine.

  “It can wait.”

  His mouth covered mine, his tongue sweeping between my lips for a deep, sensuous kiss. All thoughts of Christmas décor were obliterated as we got lost in each other for the rest of the afternoon.

  I pulled the blanket up over myself as Garrett got up from the bed, and watched him walk across the room, admiring his ass as he went to his dresser. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants followed by a t-shirt and hoodie.

  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What do you want for dinner?”

  “Dinner? That means I have to get out of bed and it’s too cold in here,” I said, pulling the comforter to my neck.

  Garrett chuckled. “If you stay in bed naked, I’m going to be forced to get back in with you and we won’t eat at all tonight. Or finish your decorating.”

  I sighed. “All right, fine.” I tossed the comforter away and hopped out of bed. The dark hardwood was cold on my bare feet and I quickly bent to gather my discarded clothing, pulling them on as quickly as I could to ward off the cold. Garrett watched me, his dark eyes filled with a mixture of mirth and desire.

  It felt like this thing between us was moving at warp speed, but when I looked at Garrett, my old friend and now lover, it felt like this was how we had always been. The rest of the evening was filled with Christmas music—upon my insistence—decorating, and a dinner of roasted chicken, asparagus, and mashed potatoes that Garrett managed to put together in less than an hour. After our conversation at the tree farm, I opened up to him more, sharing more about college and how I struggled in Florida. He told me more about his construction company, and I found out that he had a bid coming up for a huge contract in Pittsburgh that would make his company rise in notoriety.

  By the end of the night, I felt like Garrett and I had moved out of fling category and into something else, something more, in less than three days. Maybe because of our shared history and friendship, or maybe because I was able to open up to him in a way I hadn’t with anyone in a long time. But it made my heart hurt when I thought about it, because I knew, without a doubt, that staying in Gandy’s Ridge wasn’t an option, no matter how lonely I was in Florida.

  15

  Bianca

  Christmas Eve came quickly. The town seemed to live under the perpetual glow of twinkle lights as I walked to meet my mom and Shay at her last chemo appointment before Christmas. I had spent the last two days and nights with Garrett, holed up in his house like recluses except to gather my things from the B and B or when he had his big meeting in Pittsburgh. I hadn’t told anyone how much time Garrett and I were spending together, though I was sure everyone knew because I had checked out of the B and B yesterday. But I was holding fast to the motto Garrett and I adopted: fuck ‘em.

  The hospital’s cancer center seemed crowded for Christmas Eve but I found my mom and sister in the waiting room outside of the suite where the chemo transfusions took place.

  “They were just about to take me back. Are you ready?” My mom took my hand as we followed the nurse into the room.

  This was my first time seeing her chemo treatment, but Shay assured me she wanted me here. Since this one was going to take three hours, we’d packed cards, books, and other things to distract her as well as snacks and water. Shay and my dad had been switching off each time. Luckily, today was Shay’s turn, otherwise I wouldn’t have been welcome.

  “Have you talked to Dad?” Shay whispered to me as the nurse set Mom up in the chair to begin her transfusion.

  I shook my head. I hadn’t even tried to speak to my father since my first night back. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, Shay.”

  “Have you tried?” Her eyes were worried as she spoke. Shay wanted everyone to get alone, felt like she had to fix everything.

  But some things were unfixable.

  “I have been trying for the last ten years, Shay. Sometimes people don’t want to forgive you no matter how hard you try.”

  Shay nodded, her eyes glassy with tears. She ducked her head before Mom could see, turning away under the pretense of hanging up our coats on the rack near the door.

  “Will you at least come to dinner tonight? Gran is coming, and I think that Mom invited the Alexanders, Donahues and Harrisons. She wanted to have a little celebration since you’re home, and her chemo has been going well.”

 
I looked at my sister as she pleaded with me, her face still so child-like. I pictured her as a little girl, how she could convince anyone to give her anything because of her adorable face with the big hazel eyes. Though we were only remotely related by blood, we had the same hazel eyes, eyes that my dad and Shay’s biological mom shared. When I found out she was my cousin and not my sister, I held on to the one thing we had in common, the one trait that linked us as sisters and made us look alike. But I realized now that blood never mattered and I shouldn’t have been so worried about whether we looked alike or not. Shay was my sister, no matter the circumstances that brought her to us.

  Anger at my dad for keeping us apart for so long began to simmer under the surface. No, he wouldn’t ever forgive me, and I wasn’t even sure if I wanted him to.

  “I don’t know, Shay. What if Dad—”

  “Who the hell cares what Dad thinks!” she whisper-yelled, trying to keep my mom from hearing our conversation. “Please, Bianca. Please come tonight. I’ll deal with Dad.”

  I wanted my sister to be happy and I wanted to be with my mom now more than ever. “Okay, Shay. I’ll come, but I can’t guarantee how long I’ll stay if Dad decides he wants to start something with me.”

  Shay nodded. “Okay. I’ll accept that.”

  At least Garrett would be there.

  “Did you tell them you were staying here?” Garrett asked me later as we were getting ready for the Christmas dinner at my parents’ house.

  I shook my head. “They know I’ve checked out of the bed-and-breakfast, but neither of them mentioned you. I could tell they knew, though. I didn’t want to talk about it, especially not after Shay sprung this dinner on me.”

  “How is your mom feeling?” Garrett pulled on a hunter green sweater over a white t-shirt, the sleeves straining against his biceps. My eyes were transfixed for a moment and I silently wished that we could stay in, watch a movie followed by sex in front of the fireplace.

  “She’s doing well. The doctor told us that after her next treatment, they’ll do some repeat scans to see if they got the rest of the cancer.” I stood in front of the full-length mirror on the back of Garrett’s closet door, spinning to the side to look at myself for the fifth time.

  Garrett watched me, looking me up and down with appreciation in his eyes. “That’s good.” His eyes darkened as he spoke, a frown causing those two lines to appear between his eyes again.

  “Is it the dress? Should I wear jeans?” I was feeling extremely self-conscious about how I was dressed.

  Garrett shook his head. “No, you look sexy as hell. I just . . .” he began but didn’t finish, his frown deepening.

  “You just what?” I pulled on my knee-high tan boots before walking over to where he stood near the door.

  Garrett let out a deep sigh, pulled me to his chest, and pressed a light kiss to my forehead. When he let me go, the crease was gone from between his eyes, but there was uncertainty in the brown depths of his stare.

  “What, Garrett?”

  “I know we had an agreement to be friends with benefits, and I want to keep up my part of the deal. But when you talk about your mom and her scans, I can’t help but wonder if you’re going to leave if the results of her scans are good.” He sighed again. “And, of course, that makes me feel like an asshole because I want your mom’s scans to come back fine, even if that means you have to leave.”

  I looked up at Garrett as he held me, my chest tight with a feeling I wasn’t entirely sure I had the right to feel. Despite how close we had become this week, or that I was practically living with him, which was entirely his idea, I couldn’t make him any promises. Though it was lonely, I had a life in Florida. And how was I supposed to come back home for good when I wasn’t even sure I was entirely welcome?

  “Garrett . . .” I wanted to tell him how I felt, that I really liked him.

  No, that was a lie. I wanted to tell him that I thought I was falling in love with him again. But how could I do that when I was leaving? It wasn’t fair to him.

  “Don’t say anything, Bianca. Just listen. I know you have to go, but maybe, just for tonight, can you think about staying?”

  I pulled back from him, turning away from him so he wouldn’t see the tears that sprang to my eyes at his words. “I can’t, Garrett. There’s just so much that I haven’t been able to come to terms with.”

  “You already told me what happened, B. Why not let me help you work it out with your family?” He came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me back against his chest.

  I sank into him, the warmth and comfort of his arms attempting to obliterate the war in my head. “I don’t think I can do that. I don’t think I can live in a town that doesn’t know the truth. And I can’t be the one to tell everyone that truth.”

  I turned in his arms, resting my head on his chest.

  “What if I can’t let you go?” His voice sounded tight.

  “You’re going to have to,” I said in a small voice.

  After he held me for a while longer, we finally broke apart, gathered our things, and headed out to my parents’ farm. I had a terrible feeling this night was going to be anything but peaceful.

  16

  Garrett

  I watched Bianca from across the room as she talked to her sister. Her dark hair hung in waves down her back, the red sweater dress she wore clinging to her curves, and her hands gesturing emphatically as she spoke. She lit up the room. Her energy was infectious. Besides her father, who was scowling in the corner, everyone was drawn to Bianca. Our conversation from before we left my house played back in my mind. I had almost made a fool of myself, telling her that I was falling in love with her all over again. Or maybe I had never stopped loving her.

  Thankfully, I was able to keep that thought to myself.

  I realized that on some level, I had always been in love with Bianca. Our mothers were friends when we were kids, but we always hung around with different crowds, until senior year in high school when we got closer because we worked on a history project together. After that, we were inseparable, spending so much time together people thought we were dating. We were both very emphatic about the fact that we weren’t dating. But something changed that summer after senior year. I had always found Bianca attractive, but that summer, she was so much more. She was funny, smart, beautiful, and fearless.

  One night, the night before she left, we took it to another level, going beyond friendship after a long day of swimming in the lake and a bonfire with friends. She smelled of lake water and campfire, her hair in a knot on top of her head. We sat in the bed of my truck for a while before she decided to go back inside, talking and laughing, her legs thrown over mine as we looked up at the stars in the June sky. Bianca turned to me and we both froze, our eyes meeting in a way that we knew meant something else beyond friendship. Instead of fighting it, we leaned in, kissing and touching until she slipped out of her cut-offs and bikini bottoms.

  The next day, when I went back out to the farm to tell her how I felt, to tell her we should be together, her father told me she had left.

  “I can’t believe she’s still trying to tear this family apart.”

  I turned around as Mr. Townsend approached me, his words pulling me from my memories.

  “Excuse me?” Did he think I would agree with him?

  “Bianca was always a trouble maker, always jealous of her sister, but that summer she took it a step further.” Mr. Townsend’s vicious words cut through the joy in the room, making me see red.

  “Are you serious? Bianca loves Shay. Any fool can see that.” I wanted to say more but held my tongue so as not to make a scene. The last thing I wanted was for Bianca to hear the awful things her father was saying.

  “You must be a fool, because all I see when I look at her is a manipulative child. She only came back to stir the pot. She wants her mother and me to spill family secrets to the town, to sully our name here. Then she’ll leave, like she did ten years ago, and leave us
to pick up the pieces.” Mr. Townsend gestured with his hands towards Bianca, his face a mask of rage.

  “Mr. Townsend, have you been drinking?” He clearly had; his breath stank of liquor.

  “What does that matter to you?” he slurred, stumbling to the side.

  “Maybe you should go have a seat and I can bring you some coffee?”

  “I don’t need coffee. What I need is for the daughter who betrayed us to leave town,” he said, his voice growing louder, to the point where a few other people standing near us turned to see what was going on.

  My brother gave me a confused look, my mother and Mrs. Donahue also stared at us. I shook my head to let Bryce know Mr. Townsend and I needed a little privacy and he steered the two women away.

  “Mr. Townsend, Bianca didn’t leave, you kicked her out. There’s a difference.”

  “She left me no choice! She told Shay about her awful birth mother and what else was I supposed to do? Let her stay and tell the whole town my whore of a sister, a sister I didn’t even know I had until she showed up knocked up and high on my doorstep, was the birth mother of my youngest daughter?”

  At this point, due to the timbre of his voice and the close proximity in the house, everyone could hear what he said. I winced, my eyes meeting Bianca’s eyes across the room. Her face fell at her father’s words, her eyes filling with panic.

  “Charles, please stop.” Mrs. Townsend, her face pained, crossed the room as quickly as she could, placing a gentle hand on her husband’s arm. “Let’s go upstairs for a moment.”

  Mr. Townsend pulled away from her, pointing a finger at Bianca. “No, I won’t go anywhere with you as long as my oldest child is still here, manipulating you and Shay. Can’t you see what she’s doing, Muriel?”

  Mrs. Townsend put a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle a sob. My mother and Mrs. Harrison ran to her, ushering her from the room. My brother and I tried to guide Mr. Townsend into the kitchen, away from everyone else. My main goal was to get him away from Bianca. Bryce managed to convince Mr. Townsend to sit at the kitchen table, pushing a mug of fresh coffee into his hand.