Winter Dreams

by Robyn Neeley

  He dressed and headed downstairs where he found Amanda pacing in the foyer. This couldn’t be good. “Good morning. Everything okay?”

  She stopped pacing. “Oh, hi. Yes . . . Er, no,” she stammered and then said, “Maybe.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had quite a morning. What’s going on?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Did Alex say something?

  “No.” She sighed. “But Brad did. Good morning.”

  “Good morning,” he repeated and smiled down at her. What had Brad said that had her so worried?

  “How did you sleep?”

  “Out like a light. I didn’t kick you, did I?”

  “No, you stayed on your side.” She looked away.

  Was she turning red?

  “Are you ready to meet my family?”

  “Let’s do it.” Tate followed her into the warm, country style kitchen. Woven baskets, vintage canisters, and pictures in old frames gave the room a cozy charm. Tate took it all in. It instantly reminded him of his mother. She had loved the country.

  A plump, middle-aged woman with medium length silver hair dressed in a long red sweater and mom jeans was flipping pancakes on the stove. This had to be Diane Turner.

  When she turned around to greet them, he saw a bright Christmas tree in the middle of her sweater. He stifled the urge to laugh. The Turners certainly loved their Christmas trees.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Breakfast is on the stove.” She motioned to empty plates on the counter.

  “Morning, Mom.” Amanda gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

  Diane turned to Tate. “You must be the man my mother-in-law has been going on and on about meeting last night.”

  “Guilty as charged. I’m Tate. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Turner. Amanda has told me so much about you, but she failed to mention the source of her beautiful looks.”

  Diane chuckled. “Aren’t you a charmer. It’s nice to meet you, too. We’ve heard so . . . so little about you, but welcome. How did you sleep?”

  “Like a light.”

  “I bet you did. You and my daughter had quite an evening.” She raised her eyebrow at Amanda.

  Amanda shifted restlessly. “Mom!”

  Was he missing something?

  Amanda sat at the kitchen’s center island. “It was a long trip. We can recap it later. We’re looking forward to helping out today. Did I tell you Tate lived in Hammondsport when he was a kid?”

  “You didn’t really tell me anything about Tate, now did you?” Diane grinned. “Tate, does your family still live there?”

  “No, my mom and I moved away when I was thirteen.”.”

  “Well, it’s a lovely town. Can I get you some breakfast?”

  “Only if it’s not too much trouble, and I can help you later decorate those Christmas cookies you’re baking.” He pointed to the mixing bowl. “I could smell the batter as soon as I entered the kitchen. Say, do you put eggnog in your cookies by any chance?”

  Diane’s face lit up. “Why, yes. Yes, I do. Would you like a little sample?” She rummaged through the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. She scooped a large dollop of batter and handed it to Tate. “Not many people can guess that eggnog is my secret ingredient.”

  Tate closed his eyes and tasted the batter. He grinned. “Just like I remembered.” His gaze rested on Amanda. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted Diane Turner’s cookies. A fact he longed to share with his co-anchor. He handed the spoon to Diane. “Amazing, thank you.”

  Diane patted his shoulder. “Amanda, why don’t you pour Tate a cup of coffee? Tate, did your mom use eggnog in her recipe?”

  “No, she wasn’t much of a baker.”

  “Where is she now?” Diane began to scoop the batter onto a cookie tray. “Is she disappointed you aren’t home this weekend?”

  “She died when I was sixteen.” He glanced over at Amanda, her face full of concern. His heart melted.

  “My dear boy. I’m so sorry. Pull up a stool and have some breakfast.”

  Tate watched Mrs. Turner bustle around, fixing him a plate. How could he share the story of his mom passing when those memories inevitably led back to these very Christmas cookies and Amanda?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Are you sure I can’t help you with those Christmas cookies, Mrs. Turner? Maybe roll out the batter for you?” Tate called from the foyer. He smirked at Amanda. “She loves me.”

  Diane poked her head out of the kitchen’s doorway. “No, no. Mr. Turner and Alex could use your help lifting the trees into the trucks. When you get back tonight, I’ll be sure there are cookies and warm cocoa waiting for you.”

  “I can’t wait,” Tate said.

  Diane pointed to Amanda. “Dear, go introduce Tate to your father and then come help me welcome the volunteers. We’ll be loading the decorations soon.”

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  “Chop, chop. We’ve got lots of families to visit.” Diane clapped her hands and disappeared.

  Amanda pulled out their jackets from the closet. She was thinking about the conversation Tate just had with her mother. He had lost his mother at an early age. And where was his father? She shouldn’t have teased him yesterday that his family didn’t invite him home for Christmas.

  “Here you go.” She handed him his jacket.

  “Thanks.” He yanked his zipper halfway up.

  “Say, um . . . I’m sorry to hear about your mom.” She looked at him and then down at her Uggs. She was never good at these kinds of conversations.

  “It was a long time ago. It’s just—those cookies take me back. Way back. It’s the eggnog, you know.” He rubbed his hands together. “Is this the part where I spend the day outside helping your father?”

  She brightened. “Yes, and Alex. Think your southern blood can handle being outside all day?” She opened the door. It was chilly but the sun was shining.

  Tate zipped his jacket all the way up to his neck. “I think I can handle it. Remember, I did live here for a bit.”

  “Hey, I wonder if we ever ran into each other at the mall or movies or something? How funny would that be?”

  He gazed past her up at the snowy hills. “So how many trees are we delivering today?”

  Why was he changing the subject? For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to talk about his past. Amanda, let it go. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen my father’s list.”

  “He keeps a list, huh? Checks it twice.”

  “Very funny. My guess is around fifty. A tree is delivered complete with a tree stand, decorations, and angel or star for its top.”

  “And your parents donate all the decorations?”

  “Yep, with the help of local businesses.”

  “How in the world do they get fifty trees delivered and decorated in one day?”

  Amanda patted his shoulder. “You’ll see.”

  “Great.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m ready.”

  “You’ll be with my dad and brother this morning, roping firs and preparing them for transport. Then you’ll assist in the deliveries.”

  “And what will you be doing?”

  “I’m sure my mom’s got me assigned to help with the volunteers. I’ll meet up with you later this afternoon.” She laughed. “Then we’ll come home and I’m sure my mother and grandmother will fawn all over you this evening.”

  “I like that part.” He chuckled. “Sounds like today will be fun. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I’m really glad to be here.”

  “Me too.” She felt her cheeks heat. “I mean we always can use the extra help.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “A regular Santa’s elf.” She smirked but then grew serious. “Today brings so much joy you just want to bottle it up and keep it with you for the whole year. You’ll see. Just wait until you witness the smiles on all the kids you meet. It’s really incredible.”

  She dug her hands into her jacket pockets and kicked
the snow on the ground with her boot. “But it also can be heartbreaking. I mean, many of these families have experienced some really awful things, and some of these folks have been getting trees from my family on this day for years. It can be a real sad dose of reality.”

  “Amanda!” her dad called as he quickly made his way up the snowy path. He stopped and greeted them.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Good to see you.” He gave her a big hug.

  She enthusiastically returned his embrace. She had missed her father.

  “And is this the stranger my mother can’t stop talking about?” Her father extended a hand to Tate.

  “Hi, Mr. Turner. I’m Tate.” He shook her father’s hand.

  “Please call me Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tate. I trust that Amanda has filled you in on the work we do today.”

  “She has and I’m honored to help out, sir.”

  “You’re in for a special day,” her father said, eyes twinkling. “Amanda, why don’t you take Tate over to help Alex. The boys can get acquainted and load the first round of trees. I need to run to my office and pick up the delivery roster for this morning,” he said and winked. “And grab a sugar cookie or two for the road.”

  “See ya, Dad.” Amanda grabbed Tate’s hand. “Let’s go.” They reached the foot of the hill and the opening of the tree lot. “Hey, little brother,” she called out. “Are you here?”

  “Hey, Mandy.” Alex popped his head out from inside the back of his truck. He jumped down. “Hi.” He stared straight at Tate, his curt greeting freezing in mid-air.

  Amanda broke the awkward silence. “I’m going to leave you two to do your work. Alex, please be gentle on him,” she said and patted Tate’s chest for extra good measure.

  “Oh, I’ll be gentle on him, Mandy. Don’t you worry,” Alex replied. “It will be a day he’ll never forget.”

  She left the two and headed back up the hill. How could she get Alex to warm up to the idea that she and Tate were a couple? Maybe Tate would have better luck. She looked back. Of course he would; he was Mr. Quick Thinker. He’d spin some lie. By the time Tate was done with him, Alex would probably announce that he’d be Tate’s best man someday.

  Halfway up, she spotted Jingles, galloping toward her with his tail wagging.

  “Jingles, what are you doing out here?” Amanda bent down to pet her furry friend who now sported a doggie red sweater, identical to the one her mother had on. The Christmas tree covered his entire fury backside. “Seriously? Did Mom put this on you?” She straightened up. “Doesn’t anyone in this family get today off?” She laughed. “All right, Jingles. Where to next?”

  As if he understood her question, the Jack Russell sprinted back up the hill toward her dad’s office, a smaller log cabin to the right of the main house.

  “You can run, but you can’t hide from Christmas,” she yelled. “Or apparently my mother,” she muttered and followed Jingles to see if her dad needed any help.

  “Dad, are you in here?” she called out, opening the door to the office.

  “Amanda? Just putting on my Christmas sweater. Be right out,” her father said, emerging seconds later from the back room. His sweater matched her mother’s—and Jingles’s—perfectly.

  “I see you’ve put on your uniform.” Amanda grinned.

  “Your mother works very hard all year knitting these. Says it puts the volunteers in the holiday spirit.” He patted his stomach. “There’s a size small for you on the desk. What size is Tate?”

  “I don’t know.” She paused. She should probably know what size her boyfriend was. “I mean, a large should fit him just fine. He has a thing for sweaters with Christmas trees on them. ”

  “You don’t say? Terrific. It took us three years to get Brad to wear one. Remember?”

  “Oh, I remember.” Another sign he wasn’t the one. She sighed. “I met Melanie last night.”

  “This is probably a little awkward for you.” Jack began to pack his duffle bag. “Isn’t it?”

  “Just a little.” She fiddled with her scarf. “But I understand why they are staying with you.”

  “Yes, well, they’ll get back on their feet soon enough.” He pulled on his gloves and adjusted his cap. “Tate seems like a nice fella. At least your grandmother thinks so.”

  “She sure does,” Amanda agreed.

  “How long have you been dating?”

  Amanda cringed inside. She hated lying to her father. “Since June.”

  “How come you’ve never mentioned him before?”

  “We’re keeping it quiet for now. Our colleagues don’t even know.”

  “Well, we’re glad you’re home this weekend, kiddo. We’ve missed having you.”

  “It’s nice to be home,” she said.

  “It’s great to have the whole family together to celebrate the new baby. Hopefully we’ll make it to the hospital at some point today to say hello. Your mother made a tiny sweater for the little one.”

  “Of course she did,” Amanda said, picking up her father’s delivery roster from his desk and studying the document. “Hey, Dad, why are the Martins on the list? Aren’t they one of the wealthiest families in town?”

  “Aw, the Martins. Correction. They were one on of the wealthiest families. Unfortunately they lost everything two years ago in a Ponzi scheme, and Mr. Martin was diagnosed last month with pancreatic cancer.”

  “Oh, my. That’s awful.” Amanda handed her dad his roster.

  “Indeed. It’s been a tough year all around for them. The family just didn’t have it in them to celebrate the holidays this year. But they called yesterday to see if they could get a tree.”

  “I’m glad. I really love what you do for these families, but the constant struggles some of them still go through is just heartbreaking. Wouldn’t it be great if for one year—just one year—you didn’t need to give any trees away, or even if the list was cut in half?”

  “Today can be tough. No doubt about it. But there’s almost always a silver lining. I like to think we’re not in the Christmas tree business on this day but in the possibilities business. We give families the hope that things are going to get better, and for one day, we give them the strength to concentrate on what they have and not focus on the twists and turns that have brought them to this fleeting moment in time. What is that old saying? ‘This too shall pass.’”

  “Well said, Dad. I should interview you for a story.”

  Her father chuckled. “I think we should leave the camera to you. You’re much prettier.”

  Amanda laughed with her dad then grew serious. “You’re right though. Getting through today and tomorrow can’t be easy for these families we help. I still remember like yesterday the time when I was, oh, gosh, maybe ten. You and I had just finished with the deliveries and stopped at a gas station, I think, in Hammondsport.”

  He nodded. “Could have been.”

  “You were helping a woman in a station wagon with directions? Her son was leaning against their station wagon. I couldn’t remember ever seeing someone so incredibly sad on Christmas Eve.”

  She walked over to the office window and peered out. “You know what was so strange? I didn’t know what caused his pain, but I felt it, too. It was as if it was going straight through me. It was bizarre. I mean, I didn’t even know him, but I would have done anything that night to make his hurt go away.” She turned around and shrugged. “I guess it just broke my heart that he was so sad during the holidays.”

  Her father came over and patted her shoulder. “I remember that night. Dear, you feel things you see very deeply. You always have. We suspect that compassion is why you became a reporter.”

  Amanda nodded in agreement. “It was. But I don’t know. Something changed along the way. I feel so disconnected from those emotions lately.”

  “Well, maybe those feelings will come back this weekend. I remember something else about that day.”

  “That I was wearing stone washed jeans and really ugly legwarmers?�
� She wiggled her nose.

  “No.” He chuckled. “I remember you asking me if you could give that boy the box of Christmas cookies your mom had made for us as a snack. From that moment on, we have always given out our cookies on this day. A wonderful tradition that you started.”

  “It always comes back to the cookies,” Amanda exclaimed. “You know what? That night I learned the guarded secret ingredient from you, but I never told Mom that I knew.” She glanced up at the wall clock. “Shoot. Look at the time. I guess I should go back to the house and report for duty.”

  “Yes. No doubt your mother has given her volunteers their marching orders.”

  “I’m sure she has.” She laughed and peered out the window again. She could see Alex and Tate near her dad’s truck. “What the . . .” Her voice trailed off as she watched Tate attempting to tie a tree with his bare hands.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She turned around abruptly and moved away from the window. “Looks like the guys are almost done loading the trees. Hey, do you have a pair of work gloves you could loan Tate?”

  “Why, yes. Alex should have an extra pair in his glove compartment. Don’t tell me he’s been preparing the trees without gloves? Why, they have to be almost done by now.”

  “It appears so,” she said dryly. Her brother was making good on his word of taking good care of Tate.

  • • •

  Tate carried the last tree to Alex’s truck. He was drenched in pine needles and sap.

  He must really hate me. His hands were killing him where the needles dug into his skin. Getting out of sticky and prickly situations wasn’t usually hard for him, but it had never been so literal either. He needed to talk to Alex and make peace before Amanda’s brother made him count each needle.

  “So, Alex,” Tate said, leaning the final tree gently against the truck. He was sure this was only the beginning of the torture Alex planned on inflicting on him today. Time to address the elephant in the room.

  Alex eyed him, reaching down to grab more rope.

  Was her brother planning on choking him in broad daylight? On Christmas Eve, no less?

  Alex ignored him and tied the last tree.