Where the heart is, p.8
Where the Heart Is, page 8
“If it were completely covered in lights, nothing but lights, it would just look like the big lights on the ceiling. It wouldn’t really be as pretty. It’s because there’s dark parts on the tree too that the lights are pretty. It’s the contrast that makes the lights so beautiful.”
She chewed her cheek. I squeezed her shoulder as Julia’s footsteps came out of the shop behind us.
“Life is like that, too. The dark and scary and sad parts aren’t just big bad things you want to get rid of. You need them to have the light. It’s only in dark places that you can make light. Sad moments are like the piles of parts in Santa’s workshop—a mess that doesn’t make anyone happy, but everything is in there for you to put together something beautiful.”
She smiled at me. “Something like Jemimah?”
“Just like Jemimah. Easy there, kid. Things will all work out. Just enjoy the days as they happen.” I gave her a playful little shove, standing up, and she giggled as she jumped to her feet with me, turning around and running towards Julia.
“Mommy!” she said. “Were you having delusions?”
Julia almost tripped. “What?”
I hung my head. “I used the wrong turn of phrase about finding a book that speaks to you…”
Still, since it seemed like none of us were hallucinating talking books, we ended up shopping a little while longer, bumping into Julia’s brother John and his son whose name started with T and I could never remember except that trout always came to mind instead. We stuck together, browsing the little shops, and it took a solid half an hour before I managed to tease the conversation in the right direction to get the son’s name—Trent—I’d forget it again in an hour—and I managed to get Trout to take the rest of them into a sporting goods shop while I took my time perusing at the chocolatier, pretending that was all it was and that I wasn’t buying Julia that chocolate Stella and I had discussed.
And I guess while I was at it, Stella had been getting so many gifts for so many people that I could get her a little something extra here… I knew how she loved white chocolate with raspberry.
We met back up at the entrance just in time for Ron Jackson, the crusty-looking old guy who seemed to run things around the extended Jackson family, to start getting impatient about the last stragglers to join us again. I was in the middle of a conversation with Stella’s cousin Andrew when I got a tap on my shoulder and turned back to where Stella grinned at me, a twinkle in her eyes.
“Surprise,” she said.
“Hey, you.” I said a few cordial words to Andrew backing out of the conversation, suddenly disinterested in anything not Stella, and I turned back to her. “Find everything you were looking for?”
“I grabbed you something special.” She winked, and for one very gay second, I genuinely couldn’t make myself breathe. “I’ll give it to you later today, so look forward to it.”
I swallowed and put on a smile. “Not keen on waiting for Christmas, huh?”
“I’ll get you something for Christmas, too, but I’m not a patient woman. I’ll give it to you tonight, once it’s just the two of us.”
That did not need to sound so salacious. I forced myself to think of other things. Normal things. “Well, now I won’t be able to think of anything else all day.”
She grinned. “That’s the way I want it.”
Well, good, because she had a knack for making it impossible to think of anything but her.
The last person to show up got an earful from Ron Jackson, but with all of us gathered at last, he got to make his big announcement: heading down the street to the events center for a dance. As if I wasn’t already feeling my ears crackling from the overstimulation of the crowds… next to me, Stella groaned.
“What, a family Christmas ball in this century? How tacky are we?”
I laughed drily, following where the group was buzzing with energy—not all positive energy—out the doors and into the street. “Hey. Old men and their traditions…”
“Nothing good can possibly happen at a dance like that,” she laughed.
“You don’t see me disagreeing.”
She lowered her voice, her expression softening as we stepped out into the windy cold outside, sleigh bells ringing down the lane as people rushed by in either direction with shopping bags. “If you need out…” she said, and I shook my head.
“Stella, it’s really okay. I’m an adult. I can handle a little dance.”
“If you insist. But adults have needs too.” She slipped her bags onto one arm and squeezed my hand. “Promise it’s okay.”
She really was too good to everyone all the time… I’d live, though. Really. The last thing I needed was what it would do to my heart if Stella swooped in and saved me from a crash.
Chapter 9
Stella
Even though the whole thing was corny, I had to admit it was a beautiful space. Tall windows with intricate draperies, two elegant crystal chandeliers, the whole thing a refined and ornate silver-and-gold ballroom theme. We got to dump our shopping bags by the entrance, where a bellhop in a neat red suit took them off for the lodge. The lot of us in our raggedy street clothes, just dressed for the cold, felt like we were defiling it, but Grandpa wanted his surprise, so he got his surprise.
I kept my eyes on Abigail the whole time, even once Grandpa had corralled us all into groups. All in all it wasn’t the worst—there was something freeing about just being able to move to the music, the kids laughing loudly and running wild while my grandparents and my great-uncle Tom and his wife Jenna danced slowly. Grandpa Ron pushed a whole series of my cousins into dances with Abigail, and it wasn’t lost on me they were all single boys in their twenties… I got a little more jealous watching her dance with them than I had any good reason to, especially once it was with Tanner, who just oozed charm and of course had perfect dance steps too, and I got to her before Grandpa Ron could get to her again and took her for a dance myself as Silent Night came on. It wasn’t Brooke Carston’s version—that had always been our Christmas song—but it was close enough.
The poor girl looked like she’d had the life force sucked out of her. The way her pupils were just constantly a little dilated and she seemed to be looking partly through me, I knew she was getting close to shutting down. Still, I held her close to me as the music started, leading her on a slow and easy dance towards the corner of the room, and after longer than it should have taken, she looked up at where the music was coming from above.
“Oh… Silent Night.”
“Remember how much we used to dance around the living room…”
She looked down. “It’s easier as a clueless kid.”
“So dancing can be a nice way to just be like a clueless kid again.”
“Yeah…” Her voice came softer, and she let us move softly together. I had no right feeling this way, but—the sense of peace I got having her close to me like this, compared to the stabbing discomfort I got seeing her dance with Tanner—I just wanted her close. So close.
There wasn’t a good reason for being this jealous. She was just a friend. Wouldn’t it have been embarrassing for me if it turned out after all this time I was in love with her and I had never realized it?
That was hardly a productive thing to think about. The fact that she’d just had a breakup not even a full week ago was only the first of the reasons not to. All I needed to know for right now was that it felt right when she was close to me—felt perfect. And I never wanted anything else. We could do that as friends. That had to be enough.
Even if I held onto her hand for too long once the song ended and Grandma led her off to dance with someone else. Tanner again, probably. It felt like knives in my stomach.
Mom and Dad seemed even more uncomfortable here, each one dancing with the other like they were dancing with some slimy toad creature instead of a beloved partner. Suffice to say they left more than enough room for Jesus—probably could have fit all his Disciples in there too.
But I couldn’t focus on them anyway. My gaze kept going back to Abigail, dancing with one person after another, until I could see it from where I was in the middle of a dance and not even sure who my partner was—across the room, Abigail tripped, her muscles tensed along her arms, and even though she caught herself, she didn’t move, just slowed down to a crawl mid-step. I didn’t even think about it—didn’t even think about how much work Grandpa Ron had put into this and how much I was going to make a scene and how much people would be gossiping about me. I stepped away from my dance partner without a word, and I rushed across the floor, pushing through pairs until I got to where my cousin Andrew was pulling a face at Abigail.
“Sorry, Andy,” I said, and I took Abigail’s hand, and I tugged her towards me. She stumbled, walking woodenly with me, and it took a few steps longer than it should have—the whole room stopping and looking at us—before she seemed to even notice what was happening, looking over at me.
“Stella? What are you—”
“C’mon.” I didn’t give her an explanation, just dragged her outside into where the snow was picking up, not even stopping for our coats. The cold wind was bitter against my ears and on my neck, but it worked—the sudden sensory shock seemed to snap Abigail back to reality, wincing against the cold as I shut the door behind us, hugging herself.
“Oh my god, Stella, what are we doing? I don’t have my coat.”
I squared myself with her, hands on both her shoulders, and I leaned in close enough she had to meet my gaze. “Kidnapping you. You’re mine now.”
“Uh—what?” She flushed, blinking fast. I grinned.
“Feeling better?”
She pursed her lips, looking down. “Oh… uh… was it that obvious?”
“I just know you…” I squeezed her shoulders before I turned, pointing her to a heavy old wooden sign hanging not far down the path. “Go get some hot cocoa. I’ll grab your coat.”
“Uh—I’m really okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt the whole—”
“Hey. Easy.” I put a finger up to her lips. “Besides, I was jealous seeing you dance with so many people anyway.”
She blinked fast. “You were what?”
I probably wasn’t supposed to say that part out loud. Whatever. I squeezed her shoulders before I stepped back. “You’re not well. Go get a hot drink and I’ll be right there with you.”
I didn’t give her time to argue, stepping back inside. I was in the middle of grabbing our coats from the rack by the door when Grandpa Ron stopped me, touching my arm.
“Stella? Is Abigail okay?”
I smiled apologetically at him. “Sorry, Grandpa… she’s a little sick. She’ll be okay, though. I’m looking after her. Give Grandma a big hug from me, okay?”
He relented, mostly because I didn’t give him time to ask too many questions—I grabbed our coats and my bag and went out the door, heading down the tiny street and squeezing in through the doorway into the impossibly cute hot cocoa bar I’d sent Abigail off to, where I found her at the end of the old wooden bar cradling a mug. It was a tiny space, long and narrow—if I put my arms out to the sides I’d be able to touch the wood-paneled wall and reach behind the bar at the same time—and I shimmied down it to the end, sitting next to Abigail and draping her coat over the back of her stool.
“Doing okay?” I whispered, putting a hand to her back. She let out a long sigh, looking straight ahead.
“Still… coming down.”
“Take your time.”
She hung her head. “God, this is so embarrassing… I swear I’m better than this.”
“You’d have been able to handle that if you weren’t already handling a million other things this week. Be nice to yourself.”
She winced, looking down at her cocoa, in a striped red-and-green mug, whipped cream on top with little Santa-shaped sprinkles. It was a little too cute for how serious the moment was, especially with the stuffed reindeer and elf figures around the place, Christmas trees decorated with tacky little ornaments, and the décor finished perfectly with a stuffed Grinch high up in the windowsill overlooking it all with a scowl.
Figuring she needed a second, I smiled at the barista, who was just finishing a drink. “Hi… can I just get a small hot chocolate with marshmallows?”
She smiled, setting down the cup she was working on in front of me—a small hot chocolate with marshmallows. I blinked.
“Uh… that is service.”
“Your girlfriend just ordered for you.”
“Oh.” I looked over at Abigail, who looked up with her brow furrowed.
“Uh—we’re—”
“Thank you, Abigail,” I said, putting a hand to her back. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“We’re… not…” Abigail hung her head. There probably wasn’t anything to read into the fact that she was so adamant nobody could mistake us for girlfriends, even though I thought it was kind of cute when people did. She shook it off. “Just wanted to do something for you too.”
I gave her a quick hug, squeezing tight before I went back to my cocoa, cradling it in both hands. “I can’t believe you knew exactly what I was about to order.”
She smiled lightly, but it seemed like it was just to herself, looking straight on ahead like she was seeing out to infinity. “You’re a bit predictable.”
“Hm. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
She snorted suddenly, taking a long sip of her cocoa before she set it down. “I can’t believe this.”
“Abigail. It happens.”
“Not that. That you sent me here.” She gave me a dry smile. She still had whipped cream on her top lip… it was kind of cute. “This was where I was going to take you today. To get away from things.”
I laughed. “Are you kidding me?”
“Just to stop you from doing things for other people all the time. And why are we here? Because you’re doing something for me.” She shook her head, laughing quietly. “Unbelievable.”
“You can take me somewhere else next, then.” I reached out without thinking, and I swiped a thumb over her lips, wiping off the whipped cream. She made a small noise, looking down at my hand, and I didn’t really think about it—I put my finger to my lips, tasting the whipped cream off of it. I licked my lips, the sweetness of it lingering, and only when I realized that Abigail was staring at me did I place how, um… weird that was to do. I felt my face prickle, picking up my mug, holding it up to my face, half to breathe in the sweet scent of the rich dark chocolate and half to hide my face behind it.
“Well… if you insist,” she said, her eyes lingering on me for just a bit too long before she went back to her own cup. “I have a couple ideas.”
Why was I so… nervous? I had a lump in my throat for no good reason. I sipped my cocoa, tasting the richness of it melting over my tongue, the puffy texture of a marshmallow fall-apart soft and sweet in it. “Are you feeling better, then?”
“Yeah, the ringing’s stopped…” She rubbed the back of her head. “Thanks. Next time, I’ll, uh, take your warnings more seriously. You seem to know my limits better than I do.”
“I mean, I don’t know if I’d say that. I’m just worrying about you all the time, and swinging in the dark, you eventually hit something…”
“Your grandparents aren’t going to look at me anymore.”
I stuck out my tongue. “Their loss. You’re nice to look at.”
“Yeah, yeah…” She looked away. “I hope your grandparents aren’t checking me out.”
“Ew. Good point. I take it back.” She was still so tense—not from the sensory overload anymore, I could tell, but just from the embarrassment of it all. I figured she just needed the comfort of the mundane, so I veered off into an unrelated subject. “So, do you like studying investing?”
She elbowed me playfully. “Oh my god. I’m going to start a bar fight in here.”
“I’m teasing. But seriously, I feel like we haven’t really talked since we started college. Do you like your studies?”
She smiled warmly my way, the tension melting out of her expression. “I don’t want to sound like a nerd…”
“Lay it on me.”
“I love it. Never thought I’d be the type to go wild for my studies, but I’m into it.”
“Oh yeah?” I relaxed in my stool, cradling my cocoa under my nose, and she grinned.
“Mm-hm. But you wouldn’t know it. You don’t even know what economics is about.”
“Well, go ahead and tell me more then. What kind of stuff do you study?”
“Oh…” She avoided my gaze. “Pfft. It’s nerdy crap…”
“I want to hear your nerdy crap.”
“I’m really into trade economics. International trade, imports and exports. The little X on the end of the GDP equation, GNP equation, whatever you prefer, that everyone would rather just ignore.”
I laughed. “No idea what equation you’re talking about, but do tell me more. So what, like, international logistics?”
“Nah. More macro view. More… almost a political view. It’s really tied up in international relations, geopolitics…”
I nudged her side as I took another sip of cocoa. “Are you out to become a shifty political advisor?”
“Ew. No. What do I look like?” She snorted, shaking her head through a smile. “There’s a lot of nonprofits and international organizations that get into this kind of work. I’m really into that.”
I stared at her for a while, just… smiling impossibly. She gave me an odd smile, half a laugh on her lips.
“I say something weird?”
“I like seeing you with big dreams for your future.”
“Ah, well…” She looked away.
“You really didn’t know in high school. It’s really…” Beautiful, honestly. But I didn’t want to embarrass her more than I already was. “I like you like this. I’m sure you’ll do great.” I paused. “You know, studying investing.”
“Just for that, I’m committing theft.” She swiped a marshmallow from my mug, popping it in her mouth. I put a hand to my chest.
“Abigail. I’m scandalized.”
“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer now. “I, uh… I hope I can make it work. It’s a pretty competitive field. But I feel like it can make a difference in the world. Guess I went and turned into the kind of sap who cares about that.”
