We Need a Little Christmas

by Sierra Donovan

  She met his eyes. That was probably what he was waiting for—for her to look him in the eye.

  She remembered the laughing look in those eyes the day he’d picked her up at the airport, and the way she’d wondered if the joke was on her. When she met them now, he was smiling at her, half-defiant, as if he were going to milk this awkward moment for all it was worth. But his eyes were tinged with sadness, and she knew she’d put it there.

  She wondered if he could read her eyes.

  Refusing to back down, she rattled the check in front of him. “Take it.” She kept her voice steady and mustered a smile of her own. “Before I clunk you with a great big stick.”

  He took the check, and for a moment they were both holding it. Liv realized it was the last connection between them, and to her alarm, she felt her eyes blur as she let it go.

  She knew Scott had to have seen, but she turned away, so that Mom and Rachel wouldn’t see her face. Now she had to find her voice.

  “Thanks,” she said to the empty corner that used to hold one of Nammy’s artificial ferns. “For everything.” She blinked hard and turned back toward Mom and Rachel without meeting their eyes. “Ready to go, guys?”

  Her mom and sister both stopped to give Scott a hug before they left. Liv waited by the door, then led the way out. Mom and Rachel followed close behind, as if afraid they suspected she might be the one to tip over this time. And wouldn’t that be perfect? Take a spill in the driveway, and they could all spend Christmas with their feet propped up while Brian waited on them.

  Nearing the car, she patted the pockets of her jeans. Nothing there but her nearly useless cell phone. “Do you have the keys?” she asked Rachel.

  “No, nimrod. You drove.”

  Of course she had. And she’d been carrying her purse, for a change, trying to get back in the habit. The car keys must be in there.

  She heaved a sigh and opened the front passenger door for her mom while Rachel climbed into the backseat. She hadn’t been thinking clearly when they walked in. She’d probably tossed her purse on the loveseat when they walked into the house, an old habit from sometime in her teen years.

  “Be right back,” she said, as if it was nothing.

  She watched her feet make their way back up the front sidewalk. She’d worn her boots today. She’d been in Tall Pine long enough that her shoes were starting to repeat a second or third time.

  Liv stepped inside, and there was her purse, on the loveseat right by the door, where she always used to fling it as soon as she walked in. She scooped it up, heard Rachel’s keys rattle inside, and shouldered the purse as Scott walked in from the kitchen.

  “Forgot my purse,” she explained.

  “So I see.” He stopped near the doorway leading in from the kitchen. The length of the room and a sea of awkward stood between them.

  As she fought back yet another apology, Scott asked, “Just as well you came back. I forgot, I still have my key.”

  He dug it out of his jeans and held it out. Taking a deep breath, she crossed the room, and he met her on the braided rag rug. They really shouldn’t leave that behind either, Liv thought.

  She took the key from him the way he’d taken the check a few minutes ago. It felt like it should have been one more opportunity; instead, it was just one more severed connection.

  “Has the heater acted up any more?” she asked.

  “Not lately.” He shifted his weight to one side; it brought him a little closer to her height. “How are things working out with Terri and the business?”

  “I talked to the landlord. She’s being really decent about it. She’s looking for a new tenant, so we’ll probably just owe for the time it’s vacant.” Her mouth lumbered ahead of her brain. “Terri’s taking a job with one of our clients.”

  “Oh.” His face wore that unreadable expression that was so unlike him. “So it’s just you now.”

  She nodded, wondering why she’d said so much. “Fine” would have been sufficient.

  “Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something,” he said.

  “Yes.” Her jaw set, and she could feel it ache. “Maybe the universe is telling me not to give up. If I close down now, it’s—humiliating. It’s admitting defeat.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a reason.”

  “Maybe not to you, it doesn’t.” She groped for a better explanation. “I have to fix it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Trying to use words I’ll understand?”

  “It’s how I feel.”

  He studied her seriously. “You get all misty eyed about Tall Pine. In theory. But moving back home just doesn’t really appeal to you, does it?”

  Oh, but it did. And hand in hand with the thought came that sense of panic.

  “It’s not that.” She tried to put her finger on it, to explain to Scott what she had trouble explaining to herself. “It’s not that Tall Pine isn’t good enough. I’m afraid . . . I wouldn’t be good enough.”

  He looked at her, uncomprehending. A little of that chilly look dropped.

  “People expect things,” she stumbled on. “They’ve got this idea of who I am. If I fall on my face in Dallas, it’s one thing. If I fail up here, in front of everyone who’s known me all my life—it’s different. ‘Most likely to succeed,’ remember?”

  “I don’t see you failing at anything.”

  “We could fail,” she whispered.

  There it was. She’d said it. And suddenly her vague panic blossomed into sheer, blinding, mind-numbing terror.

  “Wow,” Scott said. “That was fast. We haven’t even started, and already we’re failing?” A series of emotions passed across his face, too quickly for her to read them. Except for the last one. Disillusionment. “And your biggest concern there is that we fail in front of everybody?”

  Liv groped for a response. She couldn’t find one.

  “I get it,” Scott said. “If I fail, nobody’s surprised. They’re used to it. If you fail, you’re another serial dater victim. And,” he finished for her, “you feel stupid.”

  And I get hurt. Somehow she knew that losing Scotty wouldn’t feel anything like losing with Kevin. Losing with the one who’d been so warm, supportive, undemanding. Someone who’d been there when she needed him, time and time again, even in these few short weeks.

  Someone who was looking at her right now with eyes that had turned to blue flint.

  “Go.” His voice sounded hollow. “Just—go.”

  She backed away, her heart jackhammering. She couldn’t think of anything to say, any way to make this right.

  Liv backed up again, but there wasn’t far to go. The door was right behind her. She reached for the knob.

  She’d failed anyway.

  Chapter 22

  Liv positioned the next two feet of green wire along the edge of the eaves and fired the staple gun again. The paint on the big colored lightbulbs was flaking off, but her mom’s house was going to be lit up for Christmas if it killed her.

  And it just might.

  She almost had it down to a science. By leaning far enough to each side, she could get in three staples’ worth of Christmas lights before she had to clamber down and shift the ladder over again. The middle staple was the easy one. Now, stretching to the right, she clenched her teeth, said a silent prayer, and stapled down another two-foot section of wire.

  Below, she heard the front door open.

  “Would you get down from there?” Rachel called as Liv gripped the ladder, fighting for a more stable position. “You’re making Mom a nervous wreck.”

  “You’re supposed to be off your feet,” Liv retorted.

  “Then come inside and sit with us.” Rachel wrapped her arms around her coat. “We’ve seen enough of urgent care lately.”

  “I know what I’m doing. I saw Dad do this a million times.” Some of their father’s old, rusted staples still poked out of the wood, a testament to his use of the crude method. Had anyone else hung Christmas lights on this house since Dad
passed away?

  She wouldn’t know. She hadn’t been home for Christmas.

  “Liv.” Rachel’s voice took on a rare, cut-through-the-crap tone. “Christmas is only two nights away. We don’t need lights.”

  Liv knew that. But she needed something to do. And she was more comfortable teetering up here, seven feet out of her sister’s reach, than she was climbing down and dodging questions.

  “I’m almost done with the front of the house,” she said. “Just let me finish this strand.”

  And maybe the one after that, if this string didn’t wrap far enough around the front of the house.

  She stayed on her perch, like a treed cat, until Rachel finally shrugged and went inside.

  By the time Liv went in, the afternoon light was fading. But inside, she found not a lecture, not an interrogation, but the enticing scent of her mom’s grilled cheese sandwiches.

  “How come you’re not sitting down like you’re supposed to?” Liv gave her mother a hug in front of the stove.

  “I’m getting a system.” Releasing Liv and leaning on her crutch, Mom turned a sandwich with her free hand.

  “And by the time you get it down, you won’t need the crutches anymore.” Liv went to the cabinets to gather plates.

  “That’s about the size of it.”

  They all sat at her mother’s dining table. The old Shaker table would look nice in here, but Liv knew Mom had spent several hundred bucks on the new tile-topped table. Liv decided not to reopen that discussion.

  “Thanks for hanging the lights,” Mom said. She didn’t complain about being a nervous wreck, but Liv knew what her sister had said was true.

  “Did you put them on a timer?” Rachel asked.

  “No, I didn’t stop to figure that out yet. I could—”

  “We’ll just plug them in after dinner,” Rachel said quickly.

  They continued eating in silence. It was as normal and as strained a moment as Liv could recall from her visit so far. So many things hung, unsaid, in the air. Nammy’s absence. The fact that Rachel would be leaving the day after Christmas, and Liv, the day after that. The question of what the heck was going on with Liv and Scotty. Mom and Rachel had to know something was up, and the very fact that they weren’t asking only seemed to underscore it.

  After dinner, they stood outside in the growing cold to admire the fruit of Liv’s labor. Several of the colored bulbs were burned out, but no one mentioned that.

  “We need one more good snow,” Mom said instead. Only a few patches still remained in the shady areas of the front yard, and under the eaves themselves.

  “I’ll tell you what I need,” Rachel said. “I’d really like to get out for a little while. I’ve been sitting for two days, except for Nammy’s house this morning. We could get a cup of coffee at the Pine ’n’ Dine.”

  “You girls go ahead,” Mom said. “But Rachel, you’d better take it easy.”

  “You’re not supposed to have coffee,” Liv said.

  “Decaf, then.” Rachel’s eyes brightened. “Or better yet. They’ve got spiced cider at The Snowed Inn.”

  Bowing to the inevitable, Liv agreed. After all, they owed her a hot chocolate.

  * * *

  “It’s my mom’s recipe.” Mandy slid a pedestal mug in front of Liv, topped with whipped cream and festive red sprinkles. “I’ve just played with it a little over the years.”

  “Thanks.” Liv scooped off a little of the whipped cream with her finger before she thought, then quickly popped it into her mouth. So much for table manners.

  She hadn’t expected to be back at The Snowed Inn, but she was glad they’d come. Two nights before Christmas, the place felt like an absolute pinnacle of holiday cheer with its soft white lights, warm pine scent, and glowing fireplaces. Christmas music played in the background at the perfect volume—enough to be audible, but not too loud for conversation. Liv was glad, too, to see that most of the tables in the little lobby were filled. In fact, it was crowded enough that she and Rachel sat in high-backed stools at the counter of the coffee bar near the ordering window.

  Mandy set Rachel’s hot cider in front of her. “No chocolate for you?”

  “Cocoa has caffeine in it.” Rachel nodded pointedly at Liv. “Somebody had to remind me of that.”

  Mandy grinned. “That’s cruel and unusual. But I’m sure the baby will thank you. Someday.” She rested one arm on each of their shoulders. “I’m glad you two came. Let me know if you need anything.”

  With that, Mandy vanished in the direction of the kitchen.

  Liv spooned up a little more whipped cream, then took her first sip of cocoa. Its richness took her by surprise. “Wow. I guess I forgot what it could taste like when it doesn’t come out of a packet.”

  Resting her elbows on the counter, Rachel sipped her cider with obvious relish before she turned to Liv. “So.”

  So. This was where Liv got to pay for all the tact Rachel had stored up over the past couple of weeks.

  She tried to cut her sister off at the pass. “So. How about those Dodgers?”

  Rachel gave her a nod as if to say, Nice try. “You want to talk about it?”

  It occurred to Liv, belatedly, that hot chocolate might not be the best thing for her tense stomach.

  “Not really.”

  “Where do you get that?” Rachel asked. “You’ve always been so private. Whenever I had boy trouble, I always came whining to you and Mom.”

  “Probably Dad’s side of the family. He had that strong, silent thing going. Kind of like Brian.” She raised her eyebrows at her sister.

  “Thank you, Dr. Freud.”

  Liv took another sip, and her stomach relaxed a little. Not the effect she’d expected from something so sweet, as knotted up as she was these days.

  “Boy trouble,” she mused. “Not exactly the word I’d use for Scott.”

  “What’s up with you two? Seriously.”

  Liv sipped her drink and took a deep breath. Was she really going to go there?

  Might as well. Rachel wasn’t giving up easily. And after all, Scotty was just the tip of the iceberg. Granted, six-foot-five made for a pretty big chunk of ice.

  “It’s pretty much what it looks like,” Liv admitted. “I started something I shouldn’t have started. I can’t stay in Tall Pine, so . . .” She took a sip and shook her head.

  There was no point in going into the rest of it—the breakup with Kevin, the resulting mess with the business. Mom and Rachel had never even heard of Kevin. Just as well, the way that relationship ended up. She was a private type, she supposed. She didn’t like having people see her fail. Not even her own family.

  And wouldn’t Dr. Freud have had a field day with that.

  * * *

  Mandy peered around the corner, but Jake’s hand on her shoulder gently pulled her back.

  “You can’t fix everything,” he said.

  “She’s so sad,” she said. “If we could just get Scotty down here—”

  “We don’t know that’s what it’s about.”

  “Don’t you think?” She’d heard a fair amount about Liv’s business troubles the other day. But to Mandy, the expression on Liv’s face said heart trouble.

  “Maybe,” Jake said. “But maybe that’s all the more reason to stay out of it. There’s a difference between helping people feel a little better and getting involved in their personal lives.”

  Mandy sighed, the image of Liv’s faintly furrowed brow playing in her mind’s eye.

  Her mother always used to say there wasn’t anything a cup of hot cocoa couldn’t make a little bit better. And over the course of the Christmas season, she and Jake had done too much observing to deny that her cocoa had a mellowing effect on people. A squabbling older couple, a mother and daughter at odds with each other after a rough meeting with a wedding planner . . . without flat-out eavesdropping, it was still easy to see the difference after a cup of hot chocolate. They also noticed the cocoa didn’t seem to have quite the same effect
if it was served by Jake, or any of the other staffers.

  Getting Scotty down here to serve him a big cup of cocoa . . . maybe that did cross the line into meddling.

  “I guess you’re right,” she said reluctantly.

  “Things work out the way they’re meant to work out,” Jake said. “Try to force them, and it always backfires. Besides, what if Liv and Scott got together and she ended up beating him with a rolling pin? You’d have no one to blame but yourself.”

  * * *

  Scott pushed the church door open for his parents, then held it for half a dozen other arrivals for the Christmas Eve service. They found seats near the middle of the church. At least this time his mom and dad were here, so he wouldn’t have to join his uncle Winston and Dave Radner in the lonely bachelors’ row.

  “Presents tonight or tomorrow morning?” His father picked up on the mini-debate that had started in the car. His mom was a traditionalist; his dad was the kind who’d peek at presents if you didn’t watch him.

  “Tomorrow,” Scott said. The fact was, he didn’t want to spend Christmas morning with time on his hands.

  “You just want the waffles,” his mom said.

  Any other year, that would have been true. This year, he hadn’t even thought of it—a sure sign his mind was elsewhere. His mother’s homemade Christmas-morning waffles were an institution, starting sometime after Scott’s early childhood.

  He smiled at her. “Frozen is okay, if it’s easier.”

  Norma did a double take and held her hand to his forehead, as if to check for fever.

  Flute music started as a few more attendees trickled in, and for the first time, Scott felt the spirit of the evening seep into him. Hearing Linda Washington’s annual overture of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel” made the trip worthwhile.

  Still, his eyes wandered over the half-filled seats. He found himself wishing he’d sat closer to the back. His height, and concern for anyone who might sit directly behind him, would have been a good enough excuse for that. But it didn’t look as though Liv and her family were coming, unless they’d sat down behind him. The last he heard, Rachel’s husband hadn’t been expected to arrive until today; most likely they’d decided to stay home.