Sugar Creek Christmas Nook

by Jones, Jenny B.

  The only known was Noah.

  Noah would be there. And the rest of her family. Sylvie, her cousins.

  Digging into her purse, Emma pulled out a convenience store receipt, then picked some more until her fingers touched a pen. Like all the dreamers, wishers, and hopers, she would add a prayer to the manger.

  Emma closed her eyes and listened to the mix of silence and hush that only snowflakes could make. She breathed in the smell of the crisp air and imagined the glowing lights were like a holiday card just for her. A prayer whispered from her lips—a plea, a praise. A wisp of impossibility.

  Opening her eyes, Emma set her pen to the crinkled paper.

  It was her Christmas wish.

  Something so precious she hardly dared to give it life with her inky swoops and swirls.

  Though it was a little foolish, Emma kissed the paper with chapped lips, wished it Godspeed, then placed it in the manger.

  Twenty-three years ago, a young Emma had offered up a prayer. It had meant everything to her. She had childishly thought if God hadn’t heard her spoken requests, maybe he would finally get the word in writing. Maybe he just wanted a bit of mail.

  Emma’s small hands had tucked the card beneath the arm of the baby Jesus. The manger had held her prayer and the contents of her whole heart.

  And yet her mother had died.

  Now, she stood there a thirty-one-year-old woman, tears free-falling intermittently like the snow, and once again she came with a beggar’s portion of words she feared were not enough.

  “I left a prayer too, you know.”

  Emma turned at that familiar voice.

  Bundled in a heavy coat, her father approached the nativity. “I drove by and thought that was you. Tough night?”

  “Yes,” was all she gave him. “Thank you for the concert.”

  Her father cleared his throat and scuffed the ground with the toe of his shoe. “You know, the Christmas your mom died, I left my wish in the nativity as well. I placed it right in the manger, and when I did, I saw that familiar Hello Kitty stationery of yours.” His smile was bittersweet. “Your words broke my heart.”

  Emma looked at her father’s face, now etched with lines she hadn’t been a part of. “I could’ve used a dad that Christmas.”

  “I suppose you could’ve used one your whole life.”

  There was no arguing with that.

  “The one thing you asked for Christmas, and I couldn’t give it to you.”

  “Nobody could,” Emma said.

  He stared into the manger, as if needing a moment to absorb her words. “As a spouse and a parent, you feel responsible. You want to fix it. And I couldn’t. After your mom was gone, I would catch you looking at me, and I knew you were thinking, ‘Why didn’t God take him instead?’”

  She had thought exactly that. “I was hurt and angry. There’s no grief like losing your mother.” It was in a category all of its own.

  “I never got over that feeling of failure,” her father said. “I hadn’t just lost a wife, but I had lost my daughter as well.”

  “It didn’t have to be that way.” How many ways had Emma tried to catch his attention, to get him to act like he saw her?

  “I chose the job over my family,” he said. “Work didn’t judge me, you know? Didn’t look at me with those haunted eyes that begged me to turn back the clock.” Edward rested a tentative hand on Emma’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Emma.”

  Emma searched the inner reserves for the energy to be mad, but found there wasn’t much left. “I’m sorry for the way things turned out too.”

  “You remind me of your mother so much,” Edward said. “You have her wavy hair, her laugh. Her love of chocolate and trivia. But I’m afraid to tell you, when I look at you, I also see myself.”

  She sighed. “It’s the nose, isn’t it?”

  Her father smiled. “It’s your wanderlust. Well, actually in the last few years I’ve come to realize that’s not exactly what it is. I think it’s more about our staying on the move so we don’t have to put down roots and commit to anyone.”

  “This is kind of a heavy conversation for a little goodbye chat.”

  But her dad pressed on. “It’s easy to walk away from people, even the ones you love. But hear me when I say what you find on the other side will never fill the emptiness, the loneliness. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like my work. I’ve traveled the world, met amazing people, made more money than I could spend. But when I’d get back to the hotel every night, it was just me.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. With pinched fingers, he pulled out a faded photo of a smiling family. Just like the one dangling from Emma’s tree.

  “I’ve kept this by my bedside every night since I hit the road. I wanted to be enough for that little girl in the picture. But without your mom, I never was. She was always enough parent for both of us. All I knew how to do was work.”

  That perma-frosted corner of Emma’s heart dripped just a little at the sight of the photo. “You could’ve tried.”

  “But I didn’t.” His voice faltered. “And I didn’t get any do-over. Don’t you think I’d like to wake up tomorrow, be thirty years old again, and take a different path?”

  “What would you do differently?” Emma needed the words. Needed to know she mattered.

  “I would’ve stayed, Emma. I would read some of those parenting books or taken a class or something. Made it work.”

  She voiced her fear to the one person who might get it. “I don’t know if I’m the settle-down kind of person,” she admitted. “Maybe I do get that from you.” Thank you very much, Dad.

  Edward clasped Emma’s shoulders. “Do you love this Noah fellow?”

  “Yes.” Of that she was certain. “But maybe it’s not enough. It’s just—it’s very frightening.”

  “Then you stay here—scared.You be honest and tell him you don’t know how to stick it out, but you’re going to.” His eyes held hers. “Emma, you’re going to mess up, maybe a lot. You’re going to get mad and need your space and fall on your face. But at the end of the day, you’ll know that tomorrow you’re going to try again. That’s what I wish I would’ve done—tried.”

  She wished he had as well. “I would’ve loved you, you know.”

  Edward nodded like he did know. “Your mom was so perfect, such a natural. I guess I thought if I didn’t do it right, I shouldn’t do it at all. But that’s not how it works, is it?”

  “I was a kid,” Emma said. “All I wanted was you.”

  “And I’m betting all Noah wants is you.” He father picked up a card from the nativity floor and read. When he lifted his eyes to hers again, Emma saw the same weariness, the same regret she carried inside. “Em, you tell me what you like about work, what’s pulling you back to New York.”

  Emma bristled at the topic change and had to take a moment to answer. “I guess it’s all I’ve known. I’m good at it. It’s given me accolades and attention.”

  “All the care I didn’t.”

  She shrugged. “When I go back to that anchor desk, I know what to expect. I can depend on my job.”

  “That sounds very romantic.”

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to write a Harlequin for you here.”

  “I chose a career over love. I chose fear over love. And I made two people very miserable in the process. Emma, tell Noah how you feel. You can make millions of dollars; you can be the best news anchor the world has ever seen. But if you don’t have love, what’s the point?” Edward pointed a thumb to his down-filled chest. “Sweetheart, your Ghost of Christmas Future stands right in front of you. And I’m telling you I know how the news story of Emma Sutton ends. I messed up. I never made it right. But you, my dear? You have the chance to fix this. To create a whole new life for yourself—one with love, laughter, and a family.”

  Emma sniffed and wiped the falling tears. “But I’m so close to taking over that lead anchor chair. I thought Noah could share that with me.”

 
“Did he make you choose?”

  “He said if he thought I truly loved my work, he would go. He said I was running.” She wiped her nose with her glove. “He didn’t even tell me goodbye.”

  “If you love that job, you go. And you be the best news anchor this country’s ever seen. But sweetheart, if that’s not what you want, all that money and all that achievement will make you more bitter than anything I ever did.” Edward hugged his daughter to him. “Your mom would be so proud of you.”

  The tears blurred her eyes.

  “But she would also want you happy,” her father said. “That’s what she’d want from you most of all. Em, it’s time to stop filling your trophy case and just live your life.”

  Emma gave her dad a quick kiss, something she hadn’t done in decades. “Take care of yourself, Dad.”

  “I loved you then, kid,” he said. “I’m gonna love you forever.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hello, Miss Sutton.” The doorman in her apartment building lifted his hand in greeting. “We’ve missed you.”

  “Thank you, Thomas.” Emma smiled at the man, then took in the sight of the lobby. People coming and going, oblivious to everyone around them. No one but Thomas even made eye contact. She already missed the warm greetings of one small town.

  “I’ll have someone bring your bags up.”

  “Thank you.” She pressed something into his hand. “A little tip for your trouble.”

  Thomas opened his palm and his eyes went wide. “Merry Christmas, Miss Sutton.”

  “Merry Christmas to you.” It was such a new feeling—to say the words and actually mean them.

  Emma pulled her weary body away from the elevator wall when the doors dinged and opened on her floor. She smiled at the couple completely ignoring her on the ride up and walked to her door.

  Just one step inside her darkened apartment, and Emma felt the weight of the tears. It was pitiful really. Her apartment was free of all holiday decor, something she never thought she’d miss. No horrible music about toys and snow. No blinking lights her blinds couldn’t quite block out while she was trying to sleep. No lopsided tree put up by some giggling women with too much time on their hands.

  No Sylvie.

  No Noah.

  No one.

  Emma flopped onto the leather couch and let her body melt into it. She cradled a pillow in her arms and let the tears have their way. This was what she had wanted, she reminded herself. Tomorrow would be the beginning of a new phase of her life. She had her seat on the couch with her morning team. She was on track for lead anchor when Sandra retired. And she lived in the most exciting city in the country.

  Closing her eyes, Emma imagined Noah’s arms around her—his kiss, his strength, his voice. The ache was as palpable as a punch to the stomach.

  Noah had said she was running, but she wasn’t. Her life would be good. He just didn’t understand. Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe he would come to New York one day. He could practice law, and she would sit in her spot on the Sunrise News couch, her permanent smile firmly in place.

  Her very fake television smile.

  No, tomorrow would be better. Surely Emma had only been experiencing burnout in the last year. Knowing her boss and co-workers were behind her would renew her energy. Tomorrow Emma would have her job back. She would have the esteem of her peers, a new enthusiasm, and even a small raise.

  She’d have everything.

  Everything except Noah Kincaid.

  ***

  On December twenty-fourth, Emma sat in the Sunrise News studio in her designer dress, professionally-styled hair, flawless makeup, and some pointy-toed shoes that she could barely stand in. From her seat on the famous red couch, she watched the monitor, a smile teasing her lips at the sight of Sugar Creek on the screen. Charles Chambers, lead anchor and journalistic icon sat to her left, his brown eyes watching every detail, even though she knew he’d not only already seen it, but had given final approval.

  The dedicated production staff had turned Emma’s video, photos, and reflections into a love letter to a corner of Arkansas and the world. Emma caught a glimpse of Sylvie and Frannie skating at the ice rink and knew they were packing heat under their bulky winter coats. She spied her cousins and their families, talking and laughing over hot chocolate downtown. There was Trent, the wounded soldier who had lit the community Christmas tree. The children’s choir. Snow falling on the nativity. The gala. The town square. Even the few seconds of a scowling Delores somehow had Emma sniffling back homesick tears.

  Her father’s words tiptoed into her thoughts as her segment played.

  “Your Ghost of Christmas Future stands right in front of you. And I’m telling you I know how the news story of Emma Sutton ends . . .”

  She missed Sylvie. She missed Sugar Creek.

  But she was dying without Noah.

  The piece ended, and Charles nodded in appreciation. “Truly an inspiring town,” he said. “What a picturesque place to visit.”

  Picturesque? It was so much more than that. “This was a real homecoming for me. I didn’t expect to fall back in love with Sugar Creek, but I did.” She also hadn’t expected to fall back in love with Noah, the man who had occupied her every thought since she’d left. “You know, Charles, I went to Sugar Creek to find a holiday human interest story, but it turns out . . . I’m the Christmas story.”

  Charles was so professional, so trained, his reaction to Emma’s going off script couldn’t possibly be perceptible to those watching at home. He laughed jovially and crossed his other leg. “It’s no secret how you felt about this time of year. I’m sure the town of Sugar Creek could warm even the strongest of cynics.”

  She shot the producer an apologetic look, but barreled through. “I have an unusual history with Christmas. As a child, I lost my mother to cancer on Christmas. I’m the daughter of a famous musician with a very famous—or infamous—holiday song. December twenty-fifth has always been the anniversary of some pretty upsetting moments in my life. But going back home, I discovered it was time to make new memories. I worked elbow-to-elbow with community members in the soup kitchen serving a turkey dinner. I spent time with my family, something I hadn’t done in years. I celebrated the holiday with hundreds of people I can call friends. I even reconnected with my father.”

  “I loved you then, kid.”

  Her father had thought he’d loved her, but love didn’t abandon. If that was what he called love, she wanted no part of it. And wasn’t that what she was doing to Noah? Giving him her love in words, just like her dad, but leaving Noah behind to chase a career she no longer craved.

  Had the set lights ever been this hot? “I guess sometimes the holidays are as miserable as you want to make them,” Emma said. “And I’ve spent a lifetime assuming that was the only option available. This season, I had a chance to give back, to see how much joy Christmas could bring to a town that was counting on one beautiful holiday.”

  “That’s wonderful, Emma. It’s like our own A Christmas Carol here at Sunrise News.”

  “My time in Sugar Creek woke me up to what I’d been lacking. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, I have some changes to make as well. I cannot go back to being the person I was.”

  Her heart beat loudly, galloping wildly in her ears. Emma felt her cheeks redden and heat work its way up her neck. It was like a bubbling volcano, this impulse that was pushing to the surface, a force she could not stop.

  She had been wrong to leave Sugar Creek.

  Noah asked her what she wanted. She wanted him. A life with him.

  He told her he would’ve followed her anywhere, but he was right. She might’ve had a job most women would envy, but she didn’t want it. For all the opportunity and money, it could never make her happy.

  Emma had walked away from Noah long time ago, and God had given her the miracle of a second chance. And if it wasn’t already too late, she was going to take it.

  Today.

  Emma looked right into camera two and c
ommitted television career suicide.

  “This job has been wonderful.” Her voice grew stronger. “I've traveled the world. I’ve met amazing people. I have incredible coworkers, and most importantly, our viewers have become like extended family. You've welcomed me into your homes, and we've walked through some fascinating events together. But this morning”—Her hands shook like the trees that lined the creek running through her town—“I must say goodbye. I didn't just leave my hometown in Arkansas. I left my family. And . . . I left the love of my life.”

  Emma ignored the waving arms of her producer and continued talking. She was finally certain of something, and she wanted the world to know. “I was happier back home than I've ever been, even with all hustle and stress of the season. I’ve had one of the best jobs in the world, and I’m so incredibly blessed to have gotten to this point in my career. And as crazy as it sounds to walk away, my heart is somewhere else. Friendship, community, love—I don’t want that just in December. I want it all year long. So, it is with an anxious but certain heart . . . that I tell you goodbye.” Emma’s lips lifted in a watery smile. “And from the bottom of my soul, have a very merry Christmas.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “What do you mean the flight already left?” Emma leaned over the Dallas American Airlines gate desk, an exhausted, limp mess. She had paid an exorbitant amount of money to get a last-minute flight out of LaGuardia yesterday, leaving straight from work. There were few direct flights to Northwest Arkansas, so she had been forced to connect at Chicago of all places.

  A snowstorm had grounded everyone in Chicago, so she’d spent one fitful night in an uncomfortable chair, her phone dead, and trying to keep a snoring man off her shoulder. Her dress wrinkled and uncomfortable beyond repair, Emma had gone shopping during her extended layover and bought some Chicago Bulls pajama bottoms, a Wicked hoodie, and a t-shirt that said Chicago is for Lovers.