“I’m fine.” He shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets.
Josh, seeming to ignore the tension between his mother and brother, hummed “Jingle Bells” as he slid his hand into hers. They walked toward the path that would lead them to the trees. At the entrance, they met Breanne.
“Hi, Myers family,” she said, handing them a saw. “Hot chocolate?” She gestured to a table behind her, where hot chocolate and coffee were steaming in disposable foam cups.
“No, thanks. We brought some along.” Melody accepted the saw.
“Do you need any help?” Breanne asked, cutting a length of string and handing it to Josh.
“I think we can handle it, right, guys?” Melody glanced at David, who was kicking piles of dirty snow with his sneakers. Sneakers? Where were the boots she’d told him to wear? His feet would be freezing in a matter of minutes in those, and she hated to think of the damage the wet snow would do to the only pair of running shoes he owned. She forced herself to take a breath.
“We can carry the tree, Mom. Right, Dave?” Josh asked his brother.
“Whatever.”
Who was this kid? “We’ll be fine,” Melody told Breanne.
The woman looked uneasy as she said, “Okay. Well, as I’m sure you’ve heard, we have a bit of excitement going on around here. The crew from Heartland Country Television is going to be filming here for the next three days for HCT’s Christmas Eve broadcast of ‘Home for the Holidays.’” She glanced toward the boys, and then lowering her voice, she added, “Brad’s home.”
Melody swallowed the lump in her throat as she said, “Yes, I’ve heard.” She’d more than heard—she’d seen. Worse, she’d broken down in his arms. His appearance had made all the hurt and pain she’d struggled to forget resurface, as though Patrick had only died yesterday.
“Well,” Breanne continued, “they’re just finishing up for today. They’re filming on the other side of the lot, so we’re asking folks to stay over here for another hour.”
“No problem, thanks.”
“Have fun,” Breanne called as Melody and her boys headed down the trail.
To their right, Melody could see the camera crew and their lighting on the other side of the wall of evergreen trees. Brad’s back was to her. She took a moment to study the scene. Dressed in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, a plaid shirt and a thermal vest, his blond hair a gelled mess, he looked as good as ever. His guitar lay in its case near a stool. Melody turned away. Please, God, do not let him play anything familiar while the boys and I are within earshot. The light of day was easing the tension of seeing him, but she knew she’d crumble if she heard the music she’d helped to create.
“Hey, I see Brad!” Josh said, excitement in his voice.
David, too, glanced in the direction of the film crew several feet away.
“Can we go say hi?” Josh asked.
The boys had been too young at the time of Patrick’s death to fully understand what had happened. All they knew was that the roads had been slippery, it had been snowing, and Brad had lost control of the car. That had been enough for them to know. She often wished it was all she knew about the situation. Either way, knowing or not knowing didn’t change anything. “No, sweetheart. Brad’s busy...” Melody led the boys farther down the trail.
“But I’m sure he’d love to see us, Mom,” Josh insisted.
“Yes, he would,” said a deep voice behind them. Melody turned to see it belonged to Brad.
* * *
MELODY’S MOUTH SET in a thin line, the obvious annoyance in her expression momentarily made Brad wish he’d remained hidden behind the evergreens. But after hearing Josh’s voice, he’d had to see the twins. They were his godchildren and he’d missed them. His memories of watching their soccer games and of playing ball hockey with them in the summer both warmed him and made his chest ache. No doubt Melody had stepped into the roles of both parents. Still, it bothered him the boys had not only lost their father, but also the man who should have been there for them during that hard time in their young lives. Yet another source of guilt.
“Hi, guys,” he said, tearing his gaze from Melody. He tried to subdue the image that flashed in his mind of their embrace outside the bowling alley the night before.
“Brad!” Josh ran to him, and he bent to accept the little boy’s hug. From the corner of his eye, he noticed David was standing firmly near his mother.
Brad held Josh at arm’s length and pretended to study him. “David, right?”
“No. Josh.” The little boy’s frown and pouty lips were too much, and Brad laughed, pulling him in for another hug.
“I know. You two look nothing alike,” he said. It was especially true right now. What a difference an expression could make. Smiling Josh with light cheerful eyes and a carefree air was quite a contrast to David with his dark scowl and guarded stance. David had moved closer to Melody and had taken her hand. Not for a second did Brad question who was protecting whom. Understanding David’s reluctance, he focused on the one Myers family member who wanted to talk to him. The other two would come around if and when they so chose. He wouldn’t force things. He had no right to. Glancing at the saw in Melody’s free hand, he asked, “Think you can handle that thing this year?” It felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d last seen them, and yet the three years had gone so quickly.
“No problem,” Josh said, taking his hand as he stood. “But you can help us if you want.”
“We don’t need help,” David said.
“Brad is busy,” Melody said at the same time.
“No, he isn’t. Are you, Brad?” Josh asked, looking hopeful.
Brad hated to disappoint him, but he suspected his tagging along would ruin their family outing. Just being in Brookhollow was already causing Melody heartache, and he refused to intrude on their Christmas family tradition. “Actually, little man, I do have to get back...but I’ll see you around?”
“When?”
The kid was relentless. “Um...maybe you could stop by the farm again after school tomorrow. You can help out...” An idea formed in his mind. He looked at Melody. “Mel...”
She stiffened.
“Melody,” he corrected. “Maybe David might like to work here tomorrow.”
Her cheeks reddened and she shook her head. So did David.
“I just mean,” Brad went on, “I heard about David’s suspension and I know you work during the day. Troy could use some help with the trimming and snow clearing.” Keeping the little boy busy during his suspension sounded like a better idea than letting him do nothing all day at home. “And then Josh could get off the school bus here and you could pick them both up when you’re finished work.”
Melody hesitated. He knew he was offering a great solution to her problem. “No, thank you. I have things under control.”
“Yeah,” David grumbled. “And I don’t want to work on your stupid farm, anyway.”
Melody looked at her son and swallowed hard. “You know what? Maybe it is a good idea.”
“What?” David let go of her hand and spun to face her. “I don’t wanna!”
“Well, that’s too bad. I have to work, and if you aren’t going to be in school, you have to work, too.” Her voice had just the faintest hint of gratitude as she said, “Thank you, Brad. Let Troy know to expect David tomorrow morning.”
“Mom!” David wailed.
“Enough!” she said sharply.
“I’m going back to the car,” David said, dashing off toward the parking lot.
Damn, Brad thought. He hadn’t meant to put a damper on their tradition. He watched as the boy struggled with the handle on the van for a minute, gave up and then slunk down to sit on the snowbank. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have interfered.”
“No. It’s okay. It’s a good idea.” She stared at her so
n in the distance as she said, “David’s mood has nothing to do with you.”
Brad wasn’t sure that was entirely accurate, but he could tell there was more going on with the Myers family than he knew.
CHAPTER FIVE
“YOU HONESTLY EXPECT me to get on that thing?” Bridget stood staring at the snowmobile as if Brad had just suggested she climb onto a crocodile’s back.
“Yes.” Brad moved farther forward on the seat to make room for her. “Come on.”
Dressed in an oversize white winter coat she’d borrowed from Brad’s mother, the television host shifted from one foot to the other on the crunchy snow. “I’m a city girl. I’m not so sure snowmobiling is my thing.”
He was quite certain it was not her thing, but he’d seen the same doubtful look on many faces in the past. He knew as soon as they started down the trail and she relaxed a little, knowing she was perfectly safe with him driving, she’d really enjoy it. He nodded toward the edge of the trail several feet away where the Heartland Country Television camera crew had set up its equipment. “The crew has a bet going that you’ll chicken out. You don’t want to prove them right, do you?”
She shrugged. “I’m okay with that.”
He laughed. “Look, this thing is perfectly safe, and I’ll go slowly.” At least at first...
“I don’t know.” Despite the warm coat, she shivered in the chilly early-morning air. A light layer of snow covered her dark hair as it rested on the coat’s fur-trimmed hood.
“My six-year-old nephew can drive this thing by himself,” Brad said. Not that anyone would be crazy enough to allow Darius on the powerful machine alone, but when he was just a toddler the little boy had ridden with Brad—it was one of the many things he missed now that he lived in Nashville.
“Okay, now I feel like a wimp.”
“Good. Hop on.” He patted the seat behind him.
“Fine, but if I hate it, you have to promise to let me off,” she said. She held his shoulders as she climbed on before wrapping her arms in a death clench around his waist.
An hour later, she was driving and he was struggling to hold on to her as they flew down the snowy trails. He tapped her shoulder and motioned for her to slow down as they approached the final trail leading out of the woods and into the park by Main Street.
She slowed the snowmobile and headed to the side of the trail where he’d indicated she should stop. Then she turned to face him. “Why are we stopping?”
He laughed. “City girl, huh?”
“Don’t tell anyone,” she said with a smile. She looked around them. “Hey, isn’t that Main Street?”
“Yes, we took the back paths through the woods. The crew is parked just on the other side on the street.” He climbed off the back of the snowmobile and took her hand to help her off. “I thought I’d take you to Joey’s Diner for one of their famous milk shakes.”
“Ice cream? No.” She shook her head, and then tucked her chin inside the warmth of the coat. “Hot chocolate, definitely.”
“You’ll change your mind,” he said, leading the way onto Main Street.
“So, you lived here your entire life?” Bridget asked as they walked. Brad waved to the camera crew, who started following behind them, filming several angle shots of the quiet street with its holiday storefront displays.
He nodded. “Yes—up until three years ago.”
“When you first signed the record deal with Propel in New York?”
“Yes.” And lost his closest friend. The best day of his life had also been the worst, and he couldn’t think of one event without thinking of the other. In interviews, he avoided talking about those first few months after the accident, months when he’d gone through the motions of everyday life in a foggy haze. He’d been incapable of feeling any joy about the record contract, as it had already cost him too much. More than once in those months he’d considered walking away from music, but his therapist had forced him to see past his guilt and anguish. She’d said turning away from a potentially successful future wouldn’t bring Patrick back, and if anything, it would dishonor his friend’s memory. And so he’d stuck it out, but only just barely.
“Brad,” Bridget said, waving a hand in his face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I space out sometimes. What did you say?”
“Where did you go?” she asked with a laugh as they stopped in front of Joey’s Diner. The red-and-blue-striped overhang and the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through the door brought back another set of memories, ones of better times.
“Nowhere,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
He held the door open for her and followed her inside. The interior of the diner remained unchanged since Brad had last been there. The booths lining the wall, the six bar stools at the counter and the old jukebox in the corner near the window gave him a comforting sense of familiarity. Things rarely changed in Brookhollow. People may have gotten older, and younger generations may have moved away, but the iconic structures and family-owned businesses endured.
Tina Miller, the diner’s co-owner, came through the swinging door of the kitchen. Tina and Joey Miller had owned the diner for over twenty years and all of his sisters had worked there as waitresses at one time or another. He’d reaped the benefits, as they’d brought him milk shakes or pie after their shifts. Tina was also his friend Luke’s aunt.
Tina smiled when she saw them. “Brad!”
“Hi, pretty lady,” he said.
Tina set a fresh pot of coffee on the counter and gave him a hug. “Wow...I was just saying to Luke last week how we needed to get you home for a visit soon.” She let him go and turned to Bridget and the film crew. “Hello.”
Brad made the introductions. Tina’s eyes widened as she shook Bridget’s hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you! You’re even prettier in person than you are on television.”
Bridget glanced down at her bulky coat and the big fur-trimmed boots she’d borrowed from Breanne and laughed. “Thank you!”
During the exchange, Brad scanned the diner. He stared at the corner booth where he, Patrick and Melody used to sit until long past midnight writing and rewriting lyrics. Tina would never kick them out—she’d loved it when Patrick had brought along his guitar and they’d sung her their newest songs.
“I was this guy’s first official fan,” Tina was saying.
“Yes, she was,” Brad said. Luke’s aunt had always believed in him. The entire Dawson family had been like a second family to him growing up. He’d been lucky to have their unwavering support, and it appeared he still had it. Knowing that some people in town didn’t judge him for his past mistakes lifted a big weight from him.
“I also got his first autograph,” Tina said, pointing to the receipt she’d forced him and Patrick to sign for her years ago, before they’d even come close to fame. It was taped to the cash register.
The sight of Patrick’s signature nearly did Brad in. It had been the one and only time Patrick had signed an autograph for a fan, while Brad had gone on to sign thousands. Not for the first time, he wondered about fate. Why had he survived and not his friend? For months, he’d wished he’d been the one to die in the accident, so crushing was the force of his guilt. He’d had no one depending on him, while his friend had had a wife and children. Melody’s words from the night before echoed in his mind. She couldn’t forgive him. He understood that, because he couldn’t forgive himself, either.
* * *
“SO HOW’S HE DOING?” Brad asked his brother-in-law later that day.
Across the spruce tree lot, David was replacing the burnt-out bulbs in a set of white twinkling lights along the fence.
“Great,” Troy said, setting his trimmer aside and drinking from his thermos. He wiped his forehead with the back of his work glove. “He may not have wanted to be here, but he’s certainly a hard work
er.”
“Has he said much?” Brad had hoped the boy would mention the incident at school or give some indication as to why he was so angry.
“Not really. He’s kept to himself most of the day.” Troy resumed his work.
Brad picked up another box of bulbs and headed across the lot. “Hey, man, how’s it going?”
David glanced at him. He threw an old bulb into the garbage bin at the edge of the fence and shrugged. Getting the boy to talk wasn’t going to be easy, but Brad would accept the challenge. Anything he could do to help the Myers family would be worth the effort.
Brad unscrewed a bulb at the opposite end of the fence and replaced it with a new one. “Troy says you’ve been a great help around here today.”
David remained silent.
Brad tried another tactic. “Working on a farm is great exercise,” he said. The boy was active, so the physical aspect had to appeal to him at least.
“I’ve been changing lightbulbs most of the day.”
Wow, tough kid. At least he was talking. Brad said, “Having some time alone to think must be nice, though, huh?”
David resumed his work, but he surprised Brad with a nod. “Yeah, I guess so. I like being alone sometimes.”
Progress. “Got a lot on your mind these days?” It seemed like a ridiculous thing to ask an eight year old. The only thing on his mind should have been what he was going to ask Santa for. But David certainly appeared to have the weight of the world on his shoulders.
The boy shrugged. Opening another box of bulbs, he started on the other side of the fence across from Brad.
Brad waited. The boy looked as though he wanted to talk. The expression on his young face quickly changed from sadness to anger, then back again. Brad sympathized with David’s internal struggle. His own emotions had gone from one extreme to the other since he had gotten home.
Finally David spoke. “This time of year sucks.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean, who cares about trees and decorations and gifts, anyway?”
Brad sensed that the boy did. “Well, there’s more to the holidays than that stuff. The part of the holidays I always enjoyed most was being with my friends and family.”
The Mistletoe Melody Page 7
