Page 32 of The Christmas Cottage
“That’s true. And now that you’re here, I think I might just head home. My wrist is starting to hurt a little after all that poking and prodding Dr. Ellis did, and it could use some rest. You don’t mind helping Vanessa out here if she needs it, in between building things, do you Jackson?”
Vanessa felt her own cheeks start to turn pink at that, but Jackson shook his head. “I don’t mind a bit,” he assured Mabel, and Vanessa tried to ignore the small flock of butterflies that took off in her stomach at that comment.
Mabel gathered up her things as Vanessa took over at the register, popping back out to give her granddaughter a hug and Jackson a wave before heading off back home. The sound of the back door closing as Mabel left sounded unnaturally loud to Vanessa, pointedly reminding her that she and Jackson were now alone in the toy store.
Well—alone, other than the customers milling around.
It was almost time to close, and Jackson went to the back, going to get out the things he needed to build the displays while Vanessa finished ringing up the last customers and wrapped their gifts. When she’d finished with the last customer and locked the door, Jackson carried out the decorations while she started counting up the till.
“Have you done this for Mabel before?” she asked curiously as she took out a deposit bag. “All of this is part of her holiday traditions, she said.”
“Every year,” Jackson said with a grin. “Some years George comes and helps, depending on how his back is, and how busy he is with the farm. And usually Mabel is pitching in too, if only because she’s very precise about how she wants everything.” He laughed. “But I don’t mind handling it. It’s sort of become a tradition for me too.” He raised an eyebrow curiously, looking at Vanessa. “Do you remember Mabel doing this when you were a kid?”
“I don’t,” she admitted a little sheepishly. “A lot of that is a blur now. I remember a few traditions, but not this.”
“What did your family do?” Jackson asked curiously, unwrapping a bolt of white batting for the snow. “We always made sure to leave carrots out for Santa’s reindeer, as well asthe usual milk and cookies. And my parents always went out and made reindeer tracks in the snow. One year my dad even climbed up on the roof and made sleigh tracks in the snow up there. My mom really let him have it for that one.” He laughed, and Vanessa laughed too.
“We went to look at the lights every year,” she said thoughtfully. “I remember my parents loved those. That’s the tradition I remember the most, and fancy hot cocoa afterward.”
“What about now?” Jackson asked, and Vanessa bit her lip.
She hadn’t even really talked to Mabel very much yet about how things had been for her since the accident, and how small her life had become. But something about Jackson made her want to open up, even though she didn’t know him very well.
There was something about him that made her think he would understand, even though it was clear they’d lived very different lives, and in the quiet of the toy shop after-hours, it felt like it might finally be the right time to talk about the things that had been weighing on her.
“I don’t have any,” she admitted. “I don’t even really pay attention to the holidays, to be honest. I always work through them, so others can have it off, because I don’t do anything. I don’t decorate, or have anyone to spend them with—” She trailed off, and she saw Jackson straighten, a sympathetic look on his face as he set down his tools and walked over to where she was standing.
“What about your grandmother?” he asked.
She knew he must know that it had been years since she and Mabel had spent time together. Mabel obviously didn’t leave Fir Tree Grove at Christmastime, in a town this small Jackson would know that, and Vanessa hadn’t been to the town since she was a child. But she answered him anyway, because he seemed genuinely curious aboutwhy.
“My parents died right before I graduated college,” she said quietly, closing the deposit bag and setting it down, her hands pressed against the cool wood of the counter. “They moved away from here when I was a kid, and we just never had much time or money to come back to visit. After they died I just—shut down.”
She let out a long, slow breath, expecting Jackson to cut in, but he didn’t. He just watched her with a quiet, sympathetic expression on his face, as she walked around the counter to stand next to him. “It was a car accident,” she said softly, leaning back against it. “I got the job that I have now, in San Francisco, right after it. And I just threw myself into work. I didn’t want to come back here, because it would remind me of them. If I talked to my grandmother, I thought she might want to talk about them. I didn’t want to remember any of it.”
Her voice caught, and Jackson slipped an arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. Some part of her brain wondered if it was a good idea, but he was broad and warm and comforting, and he smelled like pine and fireplace smoke and the faintest hint of coffee. He smelled safe.
“I closed myself off from everything because I didn’t want to get hurt again,” she admitted, feeling her eyes start to well up a little.When was the last time I even cried?she wondered. She thought that she hadn’t since her parents died. She gave in to the urge to rest her head on Jackson’s shoulder, and he let her, one hand comfortingly rubbing the ball of her shoulder as she sniffed back the tears.
“It’s made me really hesitant to make any connections since I’ve been here,” she said softly. “But reconnecting with my grandmother has been wonderful. And then I met Imogen, and you, and you’ve all found a place in my heart. It makes me wonder what other connections I’ve been missing out on all this time.”
Jackson leaned back a little, looking down at her, and Vanessa gave him a watery smile, realizing she’d started to cry a little into his flannel. She pulled back, wiping embarrassedly at her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a small laugh. “I’m a mess, aren’t I? I didn’t mean to dump all that on you.”
“I’m glad you felt like you could talk to me,” Jackson said, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’m glad you’re here in Fir Tree Grove for the holiday, instead of spending it alone.”
“Me too,” Vanessa admitted.
“What would you do for a Christmas tree, if you had one?” Jackson asked, and Vanessa frowned a little.
“I don’t know, honestly. My parents were never big on Christmas trees. My dad had an allergy to the live ones, and my mom always thought the faux ones were too plastic-y. I would go with Mabel and Grandpa to get theirs when I was a kid, but we never had one at our house.”
“So you’ve never gone and picked out your own Christmas tree? Never cut one down at a farm?” Jackson gasped in teasing outrage, and Vanessa laughed, shaking her head.
“Never,” she said. “I wasn’t allowed to help cut them down as a kid, obviously. So no, I’ve never cut my own tree.”
“That’s horrifying,” Jackson laughed. “You’re missing out on the best part of Christmas.”
