A Sweethaven Christmas

by Courtney Walsh

Her heart flip-flopped and she studied his eyes—expectant, waiting for her reply.

  Why weren’t the words coming? She did love him too. Didn’t she? Why couldn’t she say it? Instead, she leaned back into him and distracted him with her kisses.

  A knock on the truck’s window startled them apart, and Luke let out a laugh as he rolled down the window. Tom stood, looking lost.

  “Do you think your mom would mind if I brought Lila over for Thanksgiving?”

  “Are you kidding? She’d be mad if you didn’t.”

  Tom stared toward the restaurant.

  “Is Lila still in there?” Luke said.

  He nodded. “I’m going to go check on her.” Tom sighed. “Thanks, you two. I think being with her friends is what she needs most right now.”

  Tom walked away.

  “See?” Luke said.

  “What?”

  “Don’t let Cilla Adler make you worry about yourself or your place here. He wants to be in your life. And he knows Lila does too.” He started the truck and pulled out onto the road while Campbell considered his words. All of them.

  He loved her. He said so, right before they were interrupted by Tom. Should she bring it up again? He glanced at her and smiled, then turned his attention to the road.

  After too many silent moments, Campbell finally settled on something to say. “Do you think this is how Lila feels?”

  Luke’s eyes remained on the road. “What do you mean?”

  “If Cilla could make me feel this horrible in one meeting, imagine what it’s been like for Lila growing up with her.”

  Luke nodded. “Couldn’t have been easy.”

  His tone had changed. Or was she just imagining it? She could kick herself for her silence. She’d waited years to feel this way about a man. Why had she hesitated? She shook the notion away. Lila. She would figure out this situation with Lila. She reminded herself that feeling sorry for Lila wouldn’t do her any good. But she couldn’t help but feel responsible for so much of the woman’s pain the past few months. After all, it was her fault the truth had come out.

  “We’re better for it now, Campbell,” Lila had told her. “It’s like almost losing each other made us realize how much we love each other.”

  Campbell didn’t understand it. If she discovered some crazy secret in Luke’s past, how could she ever move beyond it? But maybe that’s what love was. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t say she loved Luke—because she didn’t really know what love would take. Or maybe it had more to do with the fact that everyone she’d loved had let her down—or left her. And she knew she couldn’t survive another heartbreak, not with Mom’s death still at the forefront of her mind. She had to hold back to keep from feeling that kind of pain again.

  Luke reached across the truck and took her hand from her lap. He held it for a long moment. Was he wondering why she hadn’t told him she loved him back? Did it matter to guys the way it mattered to her? Maybe Luke told all the girls he dated that he loved them.

  She glanced at him and smiled. As their relationship intensified, was she ready for the next stage?

  And if not . . . then what on earth was she doing anyway?

  Jane

  The Sweethaven Chapel bustled with activity as people drifted in for the Thanksgiving service. When Jane got the call a few weeks earlier that they needed someone to host the Thanksgiving festivities, she agreed, thankful for the chance to spend the holiday with good friends at Adele’s. Graham had given her the news that morning that she’d be welcoming everyone to the service and reading a poem just after the music ended.

  At first she protested, but she settled into the idea that she wanted to take on more of a leadership role. After her success with the ladies’ Bible study, it made sense for her to be more visible. Especially if they intended to spend next summer in Sweethaven pastoring the little chapel.

  Now, standing at the back of the church, Jane greeted old friends and new faces as people shuffled in to find their seats.

  “Jane? Is that you?”

  Jane spun around to find a thin brunette wearing too much makeup and a very low-cut blouse standing in front of her. Her pointed heels showed off muscular legs, and her wraparound dress looked like something straight off the runway. Coco Chanel would approve.

  Jane stole a quick glance downward, struck by the plainness of her outfit and shoes. She’d opted for “sensible” and “comfortable,” two words no fashion model knew. She returned her focus to the woman.

  “Yes, it’s me.” Jane searched the woman’s face for someone she recognized.

  “It’s Lori Tiller. Well, Lori Woodman now.”

  Lori Tiller. Jane’s face heated at the mention of her name.

  “I heard you were back in town, and I just had to say hello. I didn’t know you were married to a pastor.”

  How would she? Jane had never wanted to see her again.

  And yet, here she was.

  Jane would have said she was over it, but suddenly she felt like that overweight twelve-year-old again wearing a large T-shirt on the beach.

  “Yes, Graham and I have been together since high school.”

  Lori followed Jane’s eyes to where Graham stood, just a few feet away. When she spotted him, her brows shot up. “Him?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded more like the squeak of a church mouse.

  Lori turned back to Jane. “Jane, I must say. Who would’ve ever guessed you’d do so well for yourself?” Her tone dripped sugar and her smile contradicted her words.

  Lori hadn’t changed a bit. Jane landed on another memory. She was a teenager again, sitting on the aisle of the church pew. Lori, with her long, dark curls and thin, bronzed body, strolled past, stopping beside her.

  “Careful, Jane, pews have weight limits.” Then she’d smile and greet Jane’s parents like she was campaigning for political office.

  Now Jane stood in front of her wondering if her old nemesis had had work done. She wanted to ask but something stopped her. Instead, she caught Graham’s eye and willed him to her side.

  “Everything okay, hon?” Graham said as he reached her.

  “You must be Graham,” Lori said, holding out a manicured hand in Graham’s direction. “I’m an old friend of Jane’s.”

  “Oh?” Graham shook her hand and glanced in Jane’s direction. She kept her eyes glued on Lori’s paws, which were currently wrapped in her husband’s hands. Finally, Jane’s eyes met Lori’s.

  “I wouldn’t exactly say we were friends,” Jane said.

  Lori’s eyes seemed to gleam before she turned her attention back to Jane’s husband.

  “It’s awfully nice of you to come back to Sweethaven for Thanksgiving and perform this service,” Lori said. “We’re all so thankful to have you here.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyelashes batting a home run.

  Graham maneuvered his hand away from Lori’s and wrapped an arm around Jane’s shoulder. “We love it here,” he said. “Wouldn’t have missed it.” Then, to Jane: “You should get ready, hon. We’re about to start.”

  “Jane, are you speaking?” Lori laughed. “I imagine it’d be hard to be up on stage for everyone to scrutinize.” She flashed a smile. “We’ll be cheering for ya.”

  Jane tensed at the thought of Lori “cheering” for her.

  Graham took Jane’s hand and led her away from Lori, concentrating on the look on Jane’s face. “Are you okay?”

  “I can’t believe she’s still coming here after all these years. I didn’t see her once this summer and now she’s here to ruin Thanksgiving. Did you see the way she came onto you?”

  Graham laughed. “Honey, you’re overreacting. She’s a little pushy, yes, but you have nothing to worry about. Now, get ready to read. You’re going to be great.” He kissed the top of her head and took his place on the stage, leaving Jane to stew. Now she had to get up on the platform. In front of everyone. To be scrutinized.

  Graham began the service and as he spoke, Jane glanced at Lori. The woman sa
t in the front row, her ample bosom propped up like it was on a shelf, nodding at Graham with a red-lipped smile. Jane suddenly understood what it meant to feel her own blood boiling. She scanned the three kids sitting next to her and reminded herself that Graham was the most loyal person she knew. No matter what Lori tried, she’d be shot down like a duck over open water.

  “And now I’d like to ask my beautiful wife Jane to come to the stage with a reading to get the service started.”

  Jane smiled as she met Graham’s eyes. She stood and walked toward the platform, reminding herself to breathe and avoid Lori’s stare. Jane reached the podium, steadied her voice and read Langston Hughes’s poem, which she’d read so many times before.

  When the night winds whistle through the trees and

  blow the crisp brown leaves a-crackling down,

  When the autumn moon is big and yellow-orange and round,

  When old Jack Frost is sparkling on the ground,

  It’s Thanksgiving Time!

  One look at Lori and she stepped down. It was then Graham ushered her over to a chair on the stage-left side.

  “I should go sit with the kids.”

  Graham smiled. “Everyone’s who’s speaking is sitting up here,” he whispered. He left her standing awkward and alone. As he took his spot behind the podium, Jane took a deep breath and sat down in the rickety chair on the edge of the stage. As she did, she heard a crack as the chair gave way. It snapped in two like a board over the knee of a karate master.

  As Jane fell to the ground, the splintered chair dug into her skin and her face flushed with the heat of embarrassment. The gasps from the crowd eventually died down, leaving nothing but silence in their place. Graham rushed over and helped her to her feet, but the damage had been done. The chair now lay in pieces on the stage. She tried to avoid the stares of the crowd, tried to stay focused on the goal of reaching the door that led out of the sanctuary, but she heard the slight snicker coming from the brunette Barbie doll in the front row.

  Jane looked over her shoulder and found Lori’s face lit with amusement, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes fixed on Jane’s backside.

  Jane returned her gaze to the door, inhaled a shaky breath, and smoothed her dress pants. But as she did, she discovered they’d split up the back. Now she stood on the stage with her back to the entire church—and Lori—with her undergarments exposed.

  Tears sprang to her eyes and Jane rushed off the stage, Jenna following close behind.

  “Mom, are you okay?”

  Jane covered her face with her hands for a moment, then swiped her cheeks dry.

  Jenna pulled her into a hug, but it didn’t console her. For the rest of her life, Jane was sure she would relive the horror of that moment over and over again.

  The scene was playing like a movie in her mind, one in which she’d forever see Lori in the front row, eyeing her husband and smiling at Fat Jane’s expense.

  Meghan

  “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on my last day in Nashville. I know we’re all trying to get home for Thanksgiving.”

  The music executive, Dan, grunted. “Yes, let’s get to it then.”

  Meghan stared at Dan, who had almost as much vested in the success of her current album as she did. Beside him, a well-dressed woman named Judy stared at her underneath a raised brow.

  Dan cleared his throat. “I’m not going to pretty it up for you, Meghan. Your career is in jeopardy. Sales—well, they aren’t good.”

  “You need to concentrate on your image,” Judy said. “I’m sure that doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Duncan’s been telling you that for years.”

  Meghan’s stomach dropped at the mention of her former manager. He was doing his best to tell his side of the story to anyone who’d listen as to why they’d parted ways. True to form, his version of the events was more fiction than fact.

  “Duncan is the one who’s largely responsible for the state of my image, ma’am,” Meghan said, willing herself to stay calm, forcing aside the memory of the way he’d leaked decades-old nude photos of her to the press. “And I can assure you, I am seeking new—better—management.”

  Dan cleared his throat. “We’d hate to have to drop you from the label.” He stared at her for a few long moments and then stood. “We’ll be in touch.”

  The two of them left Meghan alone in the room, contemplating whether any of this was even worth it anymore.

  The flight back to Sweethaven had been turbulent. Fitting, since her entire trip to Nashville had been turbulent. She hadn’t expected the meeting to go well, but she also hadn’t planned on hearing she was in danger of being dropped from the label. While she’d done a lot of soul-searching the past few months about what was really important, Meghan didn’t want to lose her career.

  After all the money she’d made them, how could they just throw her away without a second chance?

  Who was she kidding? This was business. Things like loyalty had nothing to do with it.

  Meghan sighed and unbuckled her seatbelt, thankful to see Lake Michigan out the window. So many years the lake had haunted her dreams, but she’d finally come to terms with it. Now, it was a welcome and familiar sight.

  Nick and the kids waited for her in the airport, an even more welcome and familiar sight.

  The twins ran to her, and she was greeted by bear hugs and laughter.

  “We missed you, Mama,” Nadia said, throwing her arms around Meghan’s neck.

  No matter how much she loved her career, she knew she’d made the right choice coming home to her family. In that moment, there was nowhere else she wanted to be—maybe giving up life as a celebrity wouldn’t be so bad. She smiled and squeezed both of her children and then turned her attention to her husband, whose lazy grin warmed her all the way to her toes.

  “How’d it go?” Nick said.

  She shook her head as he picked up her suitcase, and she and twins followed him to the car.

  “That well, huh?”

  She didn’t want to think about Nashville or Duncan or stuffy music executives or poor sales. She’d much rather pretend for a little while that everything was just as it should be, but how often were things as they should be?

  As they drove back to their little yellow cottage on the lake, the twins happily chattering in the backseat, Meghan stared out the window, and a feeling of grief washed over her.

  “Maybe I’m just done,” she said.

  Nick glanced at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I’ve had a good run, but I don’t know if you can have everything. I think you either have a family or you have a career. How does anyone do both?”

  “People do it all the time.”

  “Duncan is turning them all against me, Nick.” She sighed. “I had three meetings yesterday and in each one I was told that I’m too much of a ‘wild card.’ Which is exactly what he used to say to me.” She could still recall the last time she’d spoken to him, days after she found out he’d leaked the photos of her and stirred up so much trouble in her personal life.

  He’d called wanting to explain himself, but Meghan wouldn’t hear it.

  “Publicity is publicity. No matter what you think, those photos sold albums,” he’d said.

  “Those photos could’ve ruined me, not to mention what they did to my kids. How could you do that without telling me?”

  Duncan scoffed. “I did a lot of things without telling you, Meghan, and it never mattered to you before.”

  “It matters to me now.” Meghan resisted the urge to hang up on him.

  “You know you can’t do this without me,” he said. “I rebuilt your career. I’m the reason anyone even knows who you are.”

  “I can’t trust you, and I can’t work with someone I can’t trust.”

  “You’ll regret this, Meghan.”

  When she hung up, her stomach twisted in a knot. “He’ll ruin me,” she told Nick.

  “We won’t let him.”

  But now, with a fail
ed trip to Nashville under her belt, she wasn’t so sure.

  “What is it you need exactly?” Nick asked as he turned off of Main Street and headed out into the country where their cottage hid.

  “Publicity. The new album isn’t selling very well, and I need to fix the damage I did by going off grid when we were, you know, going through our mess. They’re talking about dropping me from the label.”

  Nick stilled. “Would a nationally broadcast television show help?”

  Meghan laughed. “Yeah, but I don’t have any contacts in television. Duncan had all of them.”

  “I know a guy.”

  She glanced at her husband, who kept his eyes on the road.

  “Nick? What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Do you remember the Miller house? The one with the outbuildings and the big yellow barn?”

  Meghan nodded.

  “A guy from LA bought it a couple of years ago—said he wanted a place to get away from everything.”

  Meghan frowned. “So he picked Sweethaven?”

  “He’s from the Midwest. Reminded him of home.” Nick looked over his shoulder before changing lanes. “I did some work for him on the house. He liked it and gave me his card. Said if I ever needed anything, to call.” Nick shot her a look. “I called.”

  Silence hung between them and Meghan tried to make sense of what Nick said. “What did he say?”

  Nick laughed. “I pitched the idea of a Christmas special. A Sweethaven Christmas with Meghan Rhodes.”

  “I’m sure he jumped right on that.”

  He looked at her and smiled.

  “He liked it?”

  “He loved it.”

  Meghan tried not to get too excited. Nick had never done any managing for her—why should she expect that he’d understand how to put together a deal like this?

  “Said he’s a huge fan of yours and that he wants to talk to you about it. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

  Meghan’s heart sped up.

  “I hope it’s okay. I could tell by the tone of your voice the other night on the phone that it wasn’t going well.”

  Meghan tossed a look over her shoulder at the twins. Finn glanced at her and grinned what she called his “hammy grin.”