It Started with Christmas: A heartwarming feel-good Christmas romance

by Jenny Hale

  “We made it,” he said when they reached the cabin, the sled coming to a stop.

  Joe was clearly winded, his chest rising and falling with his breath. He walked around and took the bags off Holly’s lap, setting them on the step of the cabin before he offered a hand to help her get up from the sled. She planted her good foot firmly in the snow and used Joe’s strength to stand, her bad ankle hovering over the ground.

  “Thank you,” she said, truly grateful.

  He smiled down at her, his chocolate-colored eyes dazzling and creasing at the corners. “You’re welcome.”

  The door opened before they could get to the top of the steps, Nana pouting in the open doorway.

  “Good grief, child. What have you done?” Nana’s gaze moved from Joe’s arm that was around Holly, as he lifted her up each step, to her bent knee and down to her boot. Nana moved to the side to allow them to enter.

  “I stepped in a hole and twisted my ankle.”

  Joe took Holly in through the door and helped her to sit on the sofa. Then he bent down to assist her with her boot. Nana’s eyes drilling into them were making Holly uneasy.

  “I’ve got it, thanks,” she said kindly to him, reaching down to her good foot. She slipped off the boot and set it beside her, leaving a clump of snow on the new shag rug. As she untied her other one, her ankle throbbed with pain, and she had to hold her breath to pull the boot off her foot.

  Joe, who’d popped back outside to get the groceries from the steps, set them on the kitchen counter and then came over to take a look at her ankle. He kneeled in front of her again and lifted her foot gingerly onto his knee, slowly sliding down her fuzzy sock with his finger, his touch making her heart patter. She swallowed and tried not to notice how gentle his hands were. It was easy to focus on something else, however, with Nana hunched over his shoulder.

  “It needs ice to bring the swelling down,” Nana said. “We’ve got a bag of peas in the freezer that someone left. I’ll grab them.” Then she clamped her eyes on Joe. “I think she’ll be just fine,” she said quietly, through clenched teeth. “You can go on about your business of taking care of all that wedding stuff in the bedroom.” She glared at him as if she could actually say “back off” with her eyes.

  Wedding?

  Holly had a view of Nana’s bed across the room, through the short hallway. Her suitcases were emptied and sat off to one side. She could see Joe’s boxes more clearly now that she had a moment to pay attention to them. It seemed as though Nana had attempted to move them, which wasn’t unusual. She was famous for rearranging a room to suit her needs. The boxes were open with tissue paper spewing from them, crates of gifts, it seemed like, different types of champagne in various sized bottles, chocolates, and what seemed to be party favors in more silver and white.

  Holly wondered if Joe was some sort of event planner in his spare time, which was right up her alley. She’d have lots to chat about. Planning events was one of her favorite things to do.

  “What is all that stuff in Nana’s room?”

  Joe sat beside her and intertwined his fingers, turning them outward and straightening his arms, a clear attempt to pull the stress out of his shoulders, then cleared his throat, his gaze moving over to Nana before answering.

  “It’s…” He swallowed and then turned toward Holly. “…for my wedding.”

  If this had been a movie, there would’ve been a record screech. Nana sent a scowl over her shoulder as she left the living area and grabbed the bag of peas from the freezer in the kitchen. She brought it to Holly. “I’ll make you some coffee to warm you up.” Then she stomped away again.

  Holly felt as though she’d just been hit by a ton of bricks, a new and unforeseen reality now weaving its way around her. She leaned away from Joe casually, all of a sudden keenly aware of their proximity. His answer surprised her in more ways than one: while she hadn’t been expecting him to say that, she was also stunned by the disappointment that she knew had slid down her face involuntarily. She forced her lips into a pleasant expression.

  Now his lack of response to her comment about being home for Christmas made sense. He was probably terribly worried, having to be away from his fiancée for the holiday, and he’d rather not discuss it with someone he’d never met before. Why wasn’t the bride-to-be here with him right now? He’d been visiting for two weeks, planning their wedding it seemed… That had to be the source of his anxiety.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know,” she said, not certain what to actually say, but nearly sure that hadn’t come out right at all. Why was she sorry he was getting married? She wasn’t. She was sorry she’d pried by asking about the boxes and sorry for finding him so attractive and enjoyable to be around.

  He smiled at her. “It isn’t a secret or anything. I’m allowed to tell people,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck. Had he slept wrong or was it the stress of having woken up beside Holly?

  The weight of guilt settled upon her, considering what his fiancée might think about all this. They’d only met last night, so she shouldn’t feel any shame… She hadn’t asked just as much as he hadn’t told her. It’s not something he’d say upon meeting her: “Oh, hello. I’m Joseph Barnes, getting married shortly…” But the guilt came back. The error wasn’t his at all, but, rather, her assumption. She had let her feelings get away from her.

  Holly shifted the peas, the cold making the pain worse and causing her to grimace. Joe’s gaze went to her ankle in concern, but she changed the subject.

  “When is your wedding?” she asked, clumsily trying to fill the silence that was now slithering between them. The subject felt odd, and she noticed her back had started to ache just a little like it did on busy nights at the restaurant when she was flying around at a hundred miles an hour and stressed out. She consciously relaxed her muscles.

  “Just after New Year’s, January second.” His voice was flat as he said it.

  Nana slammed two mugs down on the coffee table in front of them, Holly’s splashing over the rim, creating a ring on the glass.

  “So are you organizing the wedding or something?” she asked, still watching Nana who had turned her back to them again and was heading toward the kitchen.

  He took in a deep breath. “No. I was here to see the venue because Katharine couldn’t leave work that long. She’s trying a high-profile case…” He looked down at his coffee, not drinking it. “She’s a lawyer. My fiancée. Her name is Katharine.” The words came out strained and Holly feared she was making him uneasy with all her questions. But then he looked over at her and smiled, changing her mind. He was difficult to read, for sure.

  “Are you getting married in town then?” Just the idea of a Leiper’s Fork wedding sounded dreamy: a barn with old wooden floors, whiskey barrels for tables, the entire ceiling full of rafters draped in white lights and tulle, enormous plumes of magnolias and roses, candles dripping wax in jars on the thick windowsills, a satin runner down the middle of the barn with rows of chairs on either side, the edges draped in greenery and winter-red bows…

  “We’re having it at a private estate in Brentwood.” While Holly was still swimming out of her faux wedding, he added, “It made sense, since Katharine was going to be researching a case in Nashville that week and it’s just outside.”

  Romantic.

  Having worked at a high-end restaurant, Holly knew Brentwood well; she’d served many people who lived there. It was full of Nashville’s famous and those who created a life around work with the famous: producers, record label executives, artists. Brentwood was one of the wealthiest cities in America. Its rolling hills just outside Nashville were dotted with enormous homes—the kinds that had wings bigger than apartment buildings, gated driveways and staff to work them, and manicured lawns that stretched for miles. While it wasn’t her dreamy country wedding, Holly was sure that an estate ceremony in Brentwood would be nothing less than spectacular.

  “Katharine sent me those items in the box to go through. She’s been too busy to tak
e care of the details, so I’ve been helping the best that I can. She sent all of it out here before the snow, for me to choose what I like.” He took in another breath, and Holly wondered if having to decide on those things overwhelmed him. “Maybe you could look at some of it today to give me your opinion? At the very least, we could open the champagne since I can’t take it in my carry-on.” Joe gave her a smile, but his eyes looked tired, reminding her of last night.

  Holly tried to view him differently than she had before, but she didn’t know why, because it wasn’t like she’d consciously created an opinion of him prior to knowing about a fiancée. He was still the kind person he’d been when he’d helped her—that’s all. But she found herself pushing a little further away from him inconspicuously out of respect for Katharine.

  “To be stranded in the snow, things aren’t so bad. We might not have food, but at least we’ll have champagne,” he teased, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

  They were gonna need it.

  Seven

  Holly glanced down the hallway toward Joe’s bedroom. Joe had barely eaten any breakfast this morning with Nana’s lack of hospitality. Then, only a little while after they’d returned from Puckett’s, he’d gone to his room. The door had been closed for hours and she knew that, unless he was eating the Jordan almonds that she’d seen in that wedding box, he hadn’t had lunch either. Her tummy was starting to growl, so she worried he might be hungry too.

  Nana was sitting in the corner chair with her knitting. It looked like she was making a red-and-white striped scarf that had fringe on the finished end. She glanced up over the top of her reading glasses after finishing a stitch, but then went back to her yarn, her hands moving effortlessly to steer the knitting needles. Holly had been trying to read her book while she elevated her ankle, but she kept fretting about Joe. She felt terrible keeping him closed in his bedroom all day. Nana’s response to him had been less than warm, and Holly worried he was trying to give them space.

  “You’re restless,” Nana said from behind her glasses. She took them off and set them in her lap with her knitting.

  “I’m hungry,” Holly said.

  “Well, we keep our food in the kitchen, not down the hallway.” With a frustrated breath, Nana hoisted herself out of the chair and set her things on the side table. “I can heat up that Christmas ham we’ve got sliced—did you pack that?”

  “Yes,” Holly said, thinking. “Nana, why are you so irritated by Joe?” she whispered.

  Nana turned to Holly. “I don’t like him,” she whispered.

  “Why?” Holly asked in a hushed tone, baffled. Joe had been nothing but helpful since they’d arrived.

  “I watched him pull you up that hill. Why didn’t he let Buddy do it? He’s cozying up with you on the sofa, running errands with you… You two just met! Not to mention he’s practically a married man. He should be ashamed of himself.” She sent a fuming glance down the hallway.

  “You’re reading into things,” Holly said quietly. “When you found us on the sofa together we’d been awake the entire night, putting the tree up and we both passed out from exhaustion. And the reason Joe pulled me up the hill was because he was being kind to Buddy—he’s getting on in age. That amount of exertion could give Buddy a heart attack,” she heard herself say, her pulse rising in frustration, unsure why Nana’s assessment of Joe was bothering her so much. “We needed food and he offered to pay because he’s intruding on our Christmas, which is due to the awful weather, and not his fault. And did you want him to just ignore my ankle?” She moved to get comfortable, trying to calm down, pain still present. It wasn’t like her to be so direct with Nana.

  Nana didn’t look any more convinced as she stared at Holly. “Well.”

  That was what Nana always said when her opinion couldn’t be altered. So Holly guessed the conversation was finished. Nana was not going to be persuaded, so she might as well drop the topic for now. Papa used to say, “There are two things in life that cannot be changed: the weather and your nana’s mind once she’s decided something.” He was right about that.

  Holly closed her book around her bookmark and sat forward to see if she could put weight on her ankle and get up to invite Joe to join her for a bite to eat, but thought better of it and leaned back against the cushion. He was a grown man—if he needed something, he’d come out and get it.

  Instead, Holly decided to just grab a sandwich and the labeling stickers that she’d brought with her and hobble out to the barn to figure out what to do with all the things in there. It was freezing outside, and the snow was thick and powdery underfoot, but anything was better than staying in the cabin with her ankle up on pillows. And she felt better if she stayed away from Joe. Nana didn’t need any more to worry about than she already had.

  The doors creaked on their hinges as she pushed them open, the thick wood rough under her gloves.

  During the renovations, she’d put all her attention on the cabin just as Papa had asked, setting aside the remnants of her childhood for later. Those old things lingered in the back of her mind, giving her an overwhelming need to take care of them. With a deep breath of that familiar musty air, she scanned Papa’s belongings at the back, not sure if she was ready to see them yet. It had been the same when she’d put the furniture out there: she’d focused on the pull of her muscles as she dragged the pieces, the heat of the summer day, anything to avoid processing what was in the barn.

  Now that the dust had settled with the renovations, and she could actually think about things, she still didn’t have the strength to go through his personal items, but having Papa’s furniture all piled up out there made her uncomfortable. Most of the pieces were old and worn, not of any monetary worth, but the sentimental value was overwhelming. It just seemed so desolate and cold in the space that she couldn’t sit around with it out there.

  She stepped onto the worn wooden floor, putting her weight on her good ankle, and ran her glove across the kitchen table that had sat in the cabin for so many years. It had held the food for countless Christmas dinners, birthdays, anniversaries, and even those not-so-big days when a young Holly would toddle out in her pajamas, her hair a mess at the back, and Nana would slide a bowl of her favorite cereal in front of her. She couldn’t have imagined then that this barn would be where that table would spend its final days before it was donated to a local charity shop.

  Holly unwrapped her sandwich and reached into her pocket, pulling out a wad of colored stickers, little dots in yellow, green, and orange. The yellow dots would go on charity items, green would mark the few things they’d want to save for family, and the orange was trash. Holly set her sandwich down on the paper towel she’d wrapped it in, removed her gloves, and began to place a small yellow charity sticker on the table.

  But she couldn’t do it. Redesigning the cabin was easy, but sifting through the things that marked her life was a bit harder. She placed the sticker back on its paper and chewed on her lip. She couldn’t possibly keep it all. It was useless sitting out here. But at the same time, she couldn’t just abandon it either.

  “It’s not easy to let go, is it?”

  Holly faced Nana, who’d come in quietly behind her and shook her head. Nana stepped inside, the grit on the old floors making a scratching sound with her steps. She stood in front of the pile of things, touching them gently and clearly thinking of all the memories they brought.

  Holly wanted to be strong, knowing how emotional seeing all this could make her grandmother, but even Holly couldn’t pretend it wasn’t difficult.

  “It’s old, but it could be made new again with some fresh paint,” Nana suggested. “Maybe another family will fix it up…”

  Holly nodded, unable to speak for fear that she’d start to tear up.

  “It will make someone very happy, I’m sure. Every piece will hold its own story and make new ones as it sits in another house, while time moves on around it.”

  Without a word, Holly wrapped her arms around her grandmother and
gave her a hug. Not because Nana needed it, but because Holly did. All she wanted was to make things okay for Nana, and the pressure of that was more than she could manage. “I love you,” was all she could say. What more was there?

  When they finally pulled away and an air of regularity had filtered between them again, Nana said, “I’ve put some soup on the stove. Why don’t you come inside? You need more than just a sandwich.” Nana looked out through the open barn door toward Joe’s window, seemingly annoyed by the act of having to look toward it at all. But then her face softened just a little. “It’s a large pot of soup.” She rubbed her hands together as if kneading the pain out of them, her thoughts noticeably distant again.

  Holly wondered if Nana was thinking about the last time she’d made a big pot of soup during the Christmas season, when it wasn’t just the two of them, about five years ago, before Holly’s older sister Alicia moved all the way to Seattle. Alicia, her husband Carlos, and their adorable little girl Emma took the family Labradoodle and all their things, and relocated for Carlos’s job. Alicia was a college professor. She got a job right away at the University of Washington teaching economics, while Carlos climbed the corporate ladder in the engineering department at Boeing.

  Holly couldn’t fault her sister for moving so far away—it was a great opportunity. But what always stuck with her was that her parents had moved to Seattle as well to be nearer to Emma, leaving Holly and Nana back in Nashville. But they returned once a year and had big Christmases together at the cabin, the whole family crammed into it. There were people on sofas and the sink was always full of dishes, but it was happy and festive and Holly couldn’t imagine anything better.