by Jenny Hale
“I had work to do.” He looked over at her and smiled, but she could tell he was tired. “I’d like to show you something.”
She waited, wondering what it could be.
They went into the living room and Leah sucked in a breath of surprise. The candles on the mantle were lit, the stockings hung, greenery draped on the tops of the doorframes and tied back with the big bows that Nan had always used. She looked at David.
“I followed your grandmother’s notes. Anything she didn’t tell me, I guessed at. How did I do?”
“You did very well,” she said, the words catching on her emotion. “What made you decorate?”
“You haven’t had the Christmas here this year that I’m sure you’re used to, and I knew Sadie had noticed. I wanted to give you a great Christmas here, and I didn’t want her to be uncomfortable in any way. I thought it might make things more festive. But I’m not finished,” he said with a grin. “It’s still dark outside. Want to see?”
He offered his hand. Without even a flinch, she took it. He led her to the back door and turned the handle.
“Should we get our coats?” she asked.
“No. We won’t stay out too long. I just want to plug this in,” he said, opening the door. It had started to snow again, the white flakes filling the air like a frozen mist, disappearing into the drifts of snow that were forming, covering everything as far as she could see. He dropped her hand and pushed the plug from an extension cord, which was running discreetly along the edge of the porch, into the socket. Like some sort of Christmassy dream, the woods lit up, every spruce tree as far as she could see covered in glistening white lights, creating a winter wonderland. It was just like she remembered as a kid.
Tears brimmed in her eyes. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or the love that she felt when she looked at those lights, but she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, his scent filling her lungs. With one hand wrapped around her, he pulled them inside, shut the door and then embraced her, his cuddle tenderer than she expected. They stayed that way, neither of them moving. She couldn’t deny the chemistry she felt.
“I didn’t know you liked the lights that much or I would’ve done them sooner,” he said into her ear. “It’s my peace offering.”
She pulled back to look at him, but she shouldn’t have because he was looking at her in a way that made it nearly impossible to stop the zinging electricity between them.
“That must have taken you ages!” she said, pulling away from him and clearing her throat. The winter chill he’d let in made her skin prickle with cold.
“Well, like I said, I got up early. I had work to do. This work.” He smiled.
“It’s gorgeous,” she said, looking back out the lights through the window. “Leave them on. I want Sadie to see them.”
“Mama!” Sadie said as she ran to the front window in her red footed pajamas. Leah had gone up to get her to show her the trees out back, too excited to wait for her to wake on her own. Sadie pressed her nose against the glass, the edges of it frosted with ice and newly fallen snow. The fields were covered in snow as far as they could see—rolling hills of white—but it just kept coming. The sun was hidden by the snowstorm, the sky turning from black to gray with the early morning light.
“I want to show you something that David did for us.” Leah took Sadie by the hand and led her to the back window as David looked on with a grin. The trees were still lit, illuminating the woods like a winter version of heaven. Sadie gasped, the joy on her face enough to make Leah feel a flutter in her chest.
“It’s so pretty! It’s just like how Nan used to do it!” She ran over and gave David a giant hug. What struck Leah most was the way he bent down and hugged her back, and suddenly, she longed to have someone like him in Sadie’s life.
* * *
David had spent the rest of the morning pulling the large plow down the drive with the farm truck to clear the snow. Leah had never seen anyone use it other than the groundsmen that Nan had employed, and she was surprised by his ability to use the equipment. He’d been buzzing around the house all morning, and she could tell as the day wore on, he was a little on edge while he prepared for June’s arrival.
Leah put linens on the bed in the spare room that June would be using. David had gone to the airport to pick her up.
“Somebody’s here, Mama,” Sadie said as she leaned on the large front windowsill. She’d spent the morning looking through different windows around the house at all the snow that had fallen. Leah went over to the window.
David was opening the door of the passenger side of his car so June could exit. She emerged, looking almost like Leah remembered her—her thin frame, her shoulder-length hair tucked behind one ear. She looked older, but it still seemed as if she’d stepped right out of Leah’s memory. David popped the trunk and pulled two bags from the back. He stepped up beside her and they started toward the house.
Leah opened the door.
“Oh my gosh!” June said, throwing a frail hand to her chest. “Leah Evans.” She shook her head, a smile on her face. Leah noticed how much older she looked now that they were up close. Her eyes seemed tired despite her bright expression. She reached out and gave Leah a hug then pulled back. “Wow,” she said with emphasis. “You look so much like your nan did at your age. It’s unbelievable.”
That was the biggest compliment Leah could’ve gotten because she’d always thought Nan was beautiful in pictures of her when she was younger. “It’s great to see you,” she said, stepping aside so they could enter.
Sadie rounded the corner and June’s jaw dropped. “My goodness,” she said in almost a whisper. “It’s like going back in time.” She squatted down to level herself with Sadie. “Hello,” she said.
“Hi. I’m Sadie. That’s my mama.”
June smiled. “Yes, I can tell. You look just like her.”
David shut the door and carried the bags upstairs. Leah was about to offer June something to eat, but she was standing still, her eyes moving all over the entryway, the smile slowly disappearing. June tilted her head back and peered up at the chandelier. “It has been a while,” she said, more emotion on her face than that simple phrase allowed. “It’s good to be home.”
“Would you like something to eat?” Leah finally offered.
“Thank you, dear. I’d love something to eat.”
“Okay. With all the snow we got last night, I was going to make lasagna now for a warm, hearty late lunch but we can have some nibbles before. Does that sound good?”
“That would be wonderful, dear.”
Leah noticed how June’s energy seemed so different from the June of her memory. Back then, she was always laughing, always fluttering around, never sitting still. She seemed slower now, her actions more deliberate.
“Mama, can I get some of Nan’s quilt squares and sew like we used to do?” Sadie asked.
“Yes. Do you remember where everything is in the sewing room?”
Sadie nodded. “I wonder if she still has the basket of squares she used to save just for my visits.”
“Knowing Nan, she probably does.”
“She likes to quilt like Nina did?” June said with interest as they headed down the hallway. She ran her fingers along the entry table as they walked by it.
“Nan taught her how.”
“I remember your grandmother would sit in the chair in the sitting room, a beautiful quilt draped over her legs as she sewed the next square, her concentration almost beautiful in itself, like an artist at work.”
“That’s how Sadie got started. She’d watched Nan sewing one day and asked her how she did it. She was only probably five or so. Nan was so patient with her, teaching her step by step how to stitch. Sadie looks forward to visits to Evergreen Hill so she can do it.” They reached the kitchen.
Leah pulled out some cut vegetables and arranged them on a tray. Then, quickly, she mixed a little sour cream and mayonnaise together in a bowl and added a few dried herbs to mak
e a quick dip. She set it all out on the island. As June grabbed a slice of green pepper, Leah retrieved a pan from the cupboard and set it on the stove. She rooted around in the drawers for the spatula. “You used to cook for us a lot when I was little, didn’t you?”
June nodded. Leah waited for her to say something, but she didn’t, so she carried on and pulled a cutting board from under the counter. She placed an onion on it before walking around the island toward Sadie, who’d come in with a small square of quilt. “May I see what you’ve made?” Leah asked.
“I’m making a quilt for my baby doll,” she said, holding up the small rectangle of fabric. “Do you like it?”
“You remembered all your stitches,” she said, so thrilled that Nan’s work with her wasn’t lost.
“It was easy to remember them,” Sadie said. “I’m not finished. I just wanted to show you.”
“Will you show us again when you’ve finished?” Leah asked.
“Yes!” Sadie ran off down the hallway.
“She is just lovely, Leah,” June said.
“Thank you,” she said, returning to the onion and peeling the outer layer off. She chopped the onion in half and lay the flat, cut sides on the cutting board. “Would you like to cook with me?” she asked, wondering if June still loved cooking like she used to.
June sat still and seemed to be thinking carefully. She blinked then slowly nodded. “I’d love to, thank you.” She got up and made her way over to the cutting board on the island. With perfect precision, June made cuts in the onion until she had minced it. She used the knife to scrape the pieces into her hand and dumped them in the pan. They sizzled as they hit the heat.
Leah added the ground beef and began to mix it with the onion. They worked silently, side by side and something in Leah told her to just allow the quiet between them.
“It smells delicious in here,” David said, entering the kitchen. He walked over and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “You’re all unpacked.”
“You didn’t have to do that, dear,” she said.
“It’s fine. What are you two cooking?”
“You’re smelling the onions. They always fill the house with a delectable smell,” June said.
“It’s about to smell better once I get this garlic into the pan,” Leah added.
“Did you know that whenever your grandmother made anything with ground beef and garlic, she always roasted the garlic first in the pan?” June said.
“Really?”
“Oh yes.” She looked thoughtful for a moment and then went over to the cupboard where Nan kept all her baking items—rolling pins, cookie cutters, drying racks. “I’ll bet…” she trailed off, pulling Nan’s recipe box out of the cabinet. She flipped through the little cards, intently searching for something. Leah continued to stir, her eyes on June.
Then suddenly, June pulled a card from the box and laughed quietly. She turned it around and walked closer to Leah. In Nan’s slanted handwriting, on the recipe for lasagna, the first direction was, ROAST the garlic. Trust me.
“Why did she write ‘trust me’ if it was her recipe?” Leah asked with a giggle.
“Because she cooked everything from her head but she wrote the recipes, she told me, for anyone else who may need them.”
“What if she never gave them to anyone to use?”
“Clearly she didn’t. It’s still in the box. Should we use her recipe?”
“Let me get another pan for the garlic. We’ll roast it before we put it into the ground beef.” Leah turned the heat down on the meat to hold it until the garlic was finished roasting.
“You two are having too much fun,” David said. “I’m going up to do some work. But let me know when it’s done! I’ll give it a taste test for you.”
“I’m sure you will, son,” June said, shaking her head at him. Her hair had fallen forward a little. She tucked it behind her ear. Leah opened her mouth to start a conversation, but she stopped herself. June seemed happy enough considering, and Leah could sense talking would change that.
* * *
“When can we go sledding?”
“Right after we finish eating, if you’d like,” said Leah, setting Sadie’s lasagna on the table.
“Are you talking about the big hill down the drive? How will you get down there?” David asked, turning toward her briefly as he got forks from the drawer and set them beside each plate, handing one to Sadie. “There’s quite a bit of snow.”
The trouble with this place was that it was so far off the road; it would take an army to shovel the private path if it got too deep for the tractor, and they wouldn’t get any help from the road crews. Once they were snowed in, there was nothing they could do. Last night’s snow accumulation had come as a surprise, and now, she wondered if anyone would be able to get out.
“I suppose we could try the farm truck,” Leah said. “Good thing you plowed the drive.”
“Will you come with us?” Sadie asked, dancing over to David.
David peeked over his shoulder at Sadie. “I used to love sledding here. I haven’t been in a very long time.”
“Then come!” Sadie had gone back to her lasagna and crawled into the chair, sitting on her knees.
“I suppose I could,” David said. “If it’s all right with your mom.”
“It’s fine by me.” Leah smiled, remembering the times they’d sledded down that hill together.
* * *
After lunch had settled, Leah suggested that Sadie do her math practice before going sledding, but when Sadie didn’t want to, Leah didn’t press the issue. She didn’t want anything getting in the way of Sadie’s perfect last Christmas at Evergreen Hill. She figured maybe she could offer to help her at another time.
“I’m going to get to go sledding instead of doing math!” Sadie said with a grin.
“Oh, come on,” David teased, “you know you’d rather be doing math.” He sat down beside Leah on the settee as she collected her snow gear—boots, hat, scarf, and gloves. She made a pile by the fireplace so they’d be warm when she put them on.
Sadie’s eyes grew round. “I hate math.”
“Hate is a strong word. What don’t you like about it?”
“I don’t get it. It’s too hard.” A glove slipped out of Sadie’s hand as she dumped her plastic overalls, designed for skiing, into the pile by the fire. David leaned down and handed it to her. “Mama packed one sheet for my homework to come here. I tried three times in the car, but I couldn’t do it. I’m not good at it.”
“What if you are? What if you just don’t know the secret?”
Leah was transfixed, watching how effortlessly David handled the conversation. It was clear that he’d found a topic of interest with Sadie, and the way Sadie was looking at David, she might just trust him.
“What’s the secret?” Sadie asked.
“How about I show it to you later. We can work on your homework together.”
“Okay,” she said a little uncertain.
“Right now, let’s get ready to go sledding.”
* * *
“I’m too scared,” Sadie said as she looked at the large hill in front of her. It was on the edge of the property. The sky had cleared after the storm, leaving it a cloudless electric blue. A blanket of white stretched out before them, down the hill, the trees that outlined the space casting long shadows on the pristine surface of the field. The air was still frigid, the wind cutting through them harshly. Sadie was tugging at her scarf to cover her mouth. With a gloved hand, she pushed her hat up unsuccessfully to get it out of her eyes, her multicolored, striped cap pinning the strands to her head. “It’s really steep.”
Nan had said last year, when Leah had suggested it, that they should possibly wait for Sadie to get older before sledding on this hill. She’d worried about it being too high for her. In her old age, Nan was much more cautious with Sadie than she’d ever been with Leah. The problem was, they weren’t going to have another chance, once David owned the house outright, and
Leah thought that if she’d just give it a chance, she’d love it, and it would be a memory she’d cherish.
“The sled is big enough for someone to ride with you,” David said, trying to ease her fears. “Would you like one of us to sit behind and hold on to you?” Leah didn’t want to admit to herself that she liked the way he talked to Sadie. David was so calm and gentle with her—a natural with kids.
Sadie looked past him at the hill, those brown eyes so unsure.
“Would you like to watch someone do it first? Your mom and I can go down and you can see how fast the sled goes. How’s that?”
Sadie nodded and took a large step backward, leaving boot prints in the snow.
The sled was a flat bed of wooden slats sitting on bright red iron rails with a rope handle. David sat down first at the back, leaving a spot in front of him for Leah. Gingerly, she climbed on and leaned back until she could feel his chest against her, his chin on her shoulder. When they were little, they’d sat the same way, but she’d had room to stretch her legs all the way out.
David reached around her and grabbed the rope, his arms nearly embracing her. His face was right next to hers. She kept looking forward to keep from bumping noses with him. She usually didn’t like it when men put their arms around her; it made her feel confined. But with David, she felt safe.
“Here, put your feet up on the sled,” he said in her ear, causing a shiver to run down her arm. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” She yanked her feet up, noticing then that the pain in her ankle was nearly gone.
David dug his heels into the snow and inched them closer to the edge of the hill. “Ready to watch, Sadie?” He turned around and looked her way.
Sadie nodded. She had her hands in the pockets of her navy blue coat and she was bouncing for warmth. “Are you scared, Mama?” she called out.
“No, I think it’ll be fun!” Her mind went again to David’s arms, still wrapped tightly around her.
Sadie was giggling uncontrollably.
