by Toni Blake
Hell, it was the last news he’d expected at this point. And part of him felt obligated enough to his family to wonder if he should indeed throw some clothes in a bag and catch the next boat to the mainland. He could drive all day and reach Emma’s late tonight.
But he’d still miss the Christmas celebration today. And they’d all still be there tomorrow or the next day. And he felt pretty committed to his plans here.
He wondered briefly if Lila would stay or go. He didn’t know her family’s holiday plans, but her drive wouldn’t be nearly as long as his and she might get to at least enjoy the evening with them.
Before he could form another thought, the doorbell rang. Over and over again. He grinned, suspecting he knew who stood on the other side. Despite being in flannel sleep pants and a T-shirt, he answered—to find a certain little boy beaming up at him excitedly. “Becker, you won’t believe it! Santa found me, Santa found me!”
“Of course I believe it,” he told Cade a bit smugly. “I’m not surprised at all.”
“It was so hard to sleep! I’m pretty sure I heard reindeers!”
Beck smiled, wondering exactly what Cade thought reindeer sounded like.
“Grammy says it’s all thanks to you! You have to come see all the stuff I got! There’s a really cool bike, and a Pikachu, and a sled, and some LEGOs, and—” He stopped, seeming breathless, then rolled his eyes at the enormity of it all. “Well, you just have to see it all because it’s more than I can even remember. So can you get dressed and come over? We can play with stuff until it’s time to eat! I wish I could play all day, but Grammy says we have to pack because we can go home now.” Then he scrunched up his little face, looking at first sad, then confused. “I thought I wanted to go home, but now I kinda wanna stay.”
Beck reached down, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I’m sure your Mom and Dad are gonna be excited to see you.”
“They will,” Cade agreed—before looking sad again. “But I’m gonna miss you.”
The words squeezed Beck’s heart tight. They’d all been so damn concerned about getting off the island that they hadn’t stopped to think about how it would feel when it actually happened. “I’m gonna miss you, too. A lot. But you’ll come stay with your grandfolks again, right?”
He sounded glum. “I guess. But not for a long time.”
A long time—in little kid world—was probably summer. But at the moment that actually sounded pretty far away to Beck, too. “Well, we’ll just have to keep in touch.”
“How?”
Good question. Cade probably didn’t quite have a cell phone yet, or email. Hell, he probably couldn’t quite even read or spell now that Beck thought about it. So Beck said, “I’m gonna give you my number. And your grandpa has it, too. You can call me anytime you want, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, appearing a little heartened.
“I’ll make sure your grandpa knows that, too, and passes it on to your parents.”
Cade nodded, and said “Okay” again. Then tilted his head. “But I hope you won’t be lonely for the rest of today after Christmas lunch.”
Sweet kid. But Beck rushed to reassure him. “Don’t worry—I need to head down into town after that anyway.”
“What for?”
“Just have someone I need to wish a merry Christmas to.” One more time. Still hoping for miracles.
* * *
THE REPEATED RINGING of the doorbell shook Lila from sleep. Ding dong ding dong ding dong. Given that she’d been resting better since Beck had come into her life, she’d also started taking advantage of the freedom to sleep in most mornings. As she tumbled out of bed, disoriented, her mind raced. Was she late for dinner at the café? She glanced at a hall clock as she headed for the stairs—but no, that was still a couple hours away.
Ding dong ding dong. She thumped down the stairs and skidded to a stop at the door—vaguely aware that it appeared as if an entire crowd stood on the porch. Was it an angry mob? Villagers with pitchforks? No—that would come later, after she did what she’d decided to do. So, feeling safe for now, she flung open the door—to find her entire family standing on the porch of the Summerbrook Inn.
She almost wondered if they were figments of her imagination. Meg, her parents, Seth, and even an old man she assumed was his grandpa. “What the hell?” she muttered.
“Nice PJs,” Meg said.
Lila glanced down to see she wore the purple ones with the snowflakes—which belonged to Meg. “I packed inappropriately,” she explained. Then shook her head, beyond confused. “How did you guys get here?”
“I told you—I have friends at the ferry,” Meg answered.
Lila squinted at her. “You really got the ferry to run again just because they like you?” Then she blinked. “You’re even more amazing than I thought.”
Her sister—such a sight for sore eyes—just leaned her head back and laughed. “Well, no. The ice melted. But my ferry friends told me yesterday they were optimistic—so we packed, got up early this morning, called and found out they were going to run, and reached St. Simon about an hour ago.”
“We even picked up a turkey on the way!” their dad said, lifting a weighty-looking grocery sack high for Lila to see.
After which Mom jiggled a shopping bag at her side, adding, “And brought everything else we need to make Christmas dinner.”
“If you let us in, that is,” Meg said.
And Lila flinched. “Oh!” Then stepped out of the way—still stunned by this sudden turn of events.
“It’ll take a while for the turkey to cook,” Mom informed her as the group began spilling in the door, all laden with rolling suitcases and bags with wrapped gifts peeking from them, “but we can just open presents and catch up and watch Christmas movies until then.”
Lila covered her mouth with her hand, emotion welling inside her. “I can’t believe you’re really here! You just have no idea...no idea how happy I am to see you guys.” Her voice cracked at the end, and she threw one arm around Meg and the other around her Mom before they could even begin to set anything down. Tears snuck out as she buried her face in Meg’s shoulder.
“No need to cry, sweetie,” Dad said over her shoulder. “We’re here now and ready to have a merry Christmas with you.”
Lila sniffed back the tears, toughened herself up. Because she was elated. Just emotional. Surprised at how emotional. “You’re right,” she said, wiping her face—and growing sheepish to remember Seth and his grandfather were also witnessing the entire show. She stood up straighter and reached out a hand to the man with the gray mustache. “I’m Lila. And I’m not usually crying or answering the door in pajamas. I’ll seem more normal later.”
The old man let out a hearty chuckle. “Normal is overrated, and I’m exceedingly pleased to make your acquaintance, young lady.”
Then she lifted a small wave in the direction of Meg’s off-the-charts-attractive boyfriend who she’d met over Thanksgiving. “Hey, Seth.”
“Hey, Lila.”
As the crowd dispersed, Mom and Dad heading for the kitchen with groceries and Seth and his granddad carrying gifts to the tree in the parlor, Meg stayed in the foyer and whispered to Lila, “The tears aren’t just about Christmas, are they?”
How did Meg know her so well? She shook her head and said, “Lots of things. I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Me, too.” Now that Meg had freed her hands, she gave Lila a hug, which Lila returned tightly.
There was so much to tell her sister.
About Simon, and Whitney.
About the land behind the inn.
And about Beck, too.
All the stuff about Chicago, and the stuff about the trees—well, those would be challenging to talk to her sister about, because they were difficult subjects. But it was when she thought of Beck that her heart hurt the worst.
* * *
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BECK SAT AT the Waltons’ table after a nice lunch that had been followed by two kinds of cookies and some homemade pie. He’d been surprised when George had walked to their Christmas tree and returned with a gift for him. “Just a little something to remind you of home,” he said as Beck pulled a bottle of Kentucky bourbon from a tall, thin gift bag. Given the weather and confinement on the island, he suspected it had come from their personal liquor cabinet, and he appreciated the gesture.
“Though maybe you don’t need to be reminded of it so badly now,” Marie said pleasantly. “Are you headed south, as well?”
“In a day or two,” he replied. “Just need to see how some things pan out first.”
“I have something for you, too,” Cade said. Then produced a hand-drawn picture of Santa Claus with the words Thank you, Becker! I love you! scrawled in red crayon.
The sight tugged at Beck’s heart as he said, “This is great! I’ll cherish it always.” And he wasn’t even exaggerating—he would truly treasure it. “Come here,” he said to Cade then, after which he pulled the little boy into a big bear hug.
They were good people and he was honored to be part of their gathering. But at the same time, he found himself keeping an eye on the clock. Whereas last night he’d welcomed the unhurried visiting time, today he suffered the urge to rush off now that the meal was through. “I know you guys have a lot of packing to do,” he began, “so I should let you get to it.” He was trying to be considerate of their schedule, but he also worried he’d reach the inn to find Lila gone.
Though as he stood up and they began exchanging goodbyes and Merry Christmases, Beck found himself saying to Marie, “Um, before I go, could I ask you a favor?”
He had a Christmas gift for Lila, but he wanted to make it special. And just as for Cade’s stuffed dog, he needed some ribbon.
* * *
BEFORE THEIR GRANDMOTHER’S PASSING, Christmas at the Summerbrook Inn had been a festive, lively affair. Now, again, the big old Victorian house echoed with laughter, music, the clatter of a large table being set, and good smells wafted from the kitchen all through the house. Cups of hot chocolate and eggnog were sipped by the tree as Gran’s old Christmas records spun on the turntable near the hearth.
It seemed to Lila a day of surprises, a day that she felt pushing her toward...well, things she needed to do. And probably should have done before now. But it was Christmas, and maybe that was part of it, too—sometimes Christmas pushed you to just make things right.
And so it was with little forethought or planning that she stole quietly away, upstairs to her bedroom, then pulled out her cell phone and called Whitney.
Her heart beat painfully hard as it began to ring. And maybe Whitney wouldn’t even answer, because maybe she’d be afraid Lila was calling to tell her off, to say “I told you so” or something else equally awful. And she was starting to think about whether to leave a voice mail or just give up—when her ex-bestie answered with a timid and cautious, “Hello?”
Lila let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and said, softly, “Merry Christmas.”
Whitney’s voice sounded a little shaky, nervous, yet still relieved, as she said, “Merry Christmas to you, too. And... I’m sorry, Lila. So, so sorry. I was so wrong.”
“It’s okay,” Lila whispered. And it wasn’t really that it was okay, but it was that Lila forgave her.
“I...guess you’ve seen the news.”
“Yes,” Lila said. “And I’m sorry, too—that you’ve had to go through this.”
“I should have listened to you, should have believed you.”
“It’s...hard,” Lila said. “When you respect someone so much and then...”
“Then...” Whitney said, and they both let the rest hang in the air, not needing to be said.
“Do you think...we could maybe be friends again?” Lila asked. Not wanting to give Simon one more thought today—wanting instead to focus on what mattered, on her relationships.
“God, yes!” Whitney practically shrilled into the phone. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too! And I have so much to tell you.”
They talked a few minutes longer, agreeing to get together as soon as Lila got back to Chicago, but agreeing that for now, today, they both should just concentrate on enjoying the holiday with their families.
“I’m so glad you called, Lila,” Whitney said before they hung up. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad I did, too,” Lila told her. Sometimes it wasn’t so hard to fix something if you tried. And Lila got off the phone feeling a renewed sense of hope, and also of courage.
When the doorbell rang as she was walking back down the stairs, she opened it to find Dahlia and Suzanne on the other side. “You both came! I’m so happy! Meg will be thrilled!” Then she called down the hall. “Meg? Come see who’s here!” She’d texted them both earlier, explaining the unexpected arrivals and that she hoped they would understand why she wouldn’t be at dinner. Of course, they did, and she invited them down to surprise her sister.
“Oh my God—it’s so good to see you both!” Meg said, rushing to the foyer to greet her friends.
While they exchanged hugs and hellos, Lila squeezed past her father and Seth in the parlor to snatch up her gifts for the two women.
“Thank you both,” she said, returning to the entryway, “for being so welcoming to me, and for becoming my friends.”
Suzanne appeared more touched by the gesture than Lila had expected—but perhaps she was just happy to be past the awkwardness about Beck. Still basking in the joy of her phone call with Whitney, Lila remained grateful that Suzanne hadn’t held the situation against her—though she hated that Suzanne had gotten hurt, possibly because of her.
Both women seemed delighted with their hats, and Dahlia said, “It’s true that handmade gifts are the most special.”
Which prompted Meg to blink and say, “Who hand made them?”
And Lila answered, “Me. I found my old looms in the attic. I’ve become quite the loom knitter.”
“Oh yes,” Dahlia backed her up. “She’s joined us for a couple of knitting bees at the Nook. She’s a natural.”
“Allie Hobbs even offered to sell my work,” she bragged, pleased to impress her sister—because she could see that Meg was, indeed, taken aback and admiring the hats.
“These are so great,” Meg said, studying at her friends’ gifts. “I had no idea you were so talented, Lila.”
She shrugged. “Neither did I. I thank Gran. Even if it took me a while—like twenty years—to really get into the looming thing.”
Meg invited her friends to join them for dinner—but Dahlia reminded them why she couldn’t. “Thank you for the offer, but I have a ham in the oven for Zack and Suzanne.”
Lila raised her eyes to Dahlia. “And for Mr. Desjardins, too?”
Dahlia shook her head. Left it at that. And something in her silence made Lila sad. And reminded her she was pretty sad for herself in a similar way. Maybe she just wanted someone to be happy in love, and Dahlia seemed deserving of happiness. At least Meg had Seth now.
“Perhaps we’ll come back later this evening if the party is still going on,” Dahlia suggested, lightening the mood.
“I suspect it will be,” Meg assured her. “So come back whenever you like! I have a feeling we may be at it ’til the wee hours of the morning.”
An hour later, the family had all exchanged gifts—and Lila had taken great joy in surprising them all with her knitted goods. Like Meg, her parents were both stunned to hear she’d actually knitted the hats and scarves and potholders they’d opened, and she took a pride in her holiday offerings unlike ever before. At first they’d been made as a distraction from her troubles and a way to fill the time—but they’d also been made with love. A love that had heartened her and given her
more strength than she’d realized—lifting her up through all the recent troubles in her life. Of course, she’d had support from other directions, too—like Meg’s friends and Beck.
And all in all, somehow it had added up to helping her figure out the next steps she needed to make. Not all of them, but at least some. She hadn’t planned to talk to Meg and her parents about it all until after Christmas—but suddenly, now, she didn’t want to wait.
Up until this moment, she’d seen it as... heavy, too heavy to be in keeping with the holiday spirit. But having her family show up when she’d least expected it, and then making peace with Whitney, all served to remind her that what she had to tell them was actually about strength, and about taking control of her life, and about doing the right thing. That she was taking negatives and turning them into positives. Which meant there wasn’t really any reason to hold back.
And as for her fears about Meg judging her harshly over this—they’d faded since coming back face-to-face with her. Meg loved her. She’d felt that love practically spilling through the door and all through the house when Meg and the rest of the family had arrived. And if it turned out she was wrong, if it turned out her sister held her responsible in any way...well, she’d deal with it. No more running—from anything.
“That turkey’s smelling mighty splendiferous,” Seth’s grandpa remarked as they all sat in the parlor, wrapping paper strewn on the floor, Miss Kitty batting around a stray strip of green ribbon near the Christmas tree.
“Another hour or more to go,” Mom replied. “We’re getting there, though, slowly but surely.”
Lila was just about to announce to the room at large that she had something to say—when the doorbell rang again. Someone else must have figured out Meg and Seth were home and stopped by to wish them a merry Christmas. So instead, Lila held her tongue, pushed up from the sofa with a cup of hot chocolate in her hand, and went to answer.
