Page 28 of Wishing for Christmas
She seemed to notice his concern as they approached his truck. “Brent,” she started, “I feel like I should tell you something.”
“Okay.” He stopped, still holding the tree by its trunk. He looked at her and waited for her to speak.
“Well, this past year . . .”
“Yes?”
“Well, it wasn’t quite the same for me as . . .”
He nodded, urging her to continue. He noticed an eerie feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“It’s hard to explain, but?—”
Elvis Presley interrupted her as “Blue Christmas”sounded from her phone. She looked at him, confused. He could also detect a hint of relief in her face. Whatever she had been trying to say to him, it seemed she welcomed the interruption. Clara obviously didn’t realize the song was coming from her pocket, though. She looked behind her, frustration on her face, trying to identify the source of the music.
Brent laughed. “I think that’s you.”
“Huh?”
He pointed to her pocket. “That’s your ringtone.”
She fished around her coat for her phone. “What? No. My ringtone is ‘Jingle Bells’.”
“You changed it.” He opened the bed of his truck. “Remember?”
She looked at him with a blank expression.
“You changed your ringtone from ‘Jingle Bells’ to ‘Blue Christmas’ as soon as I left last year, remember?” Brent noticed his nervous laugh return as he waited for a hint of recognition.
“Oh, yeah,” she said. “I must have forgotten about that.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, still playing music, and looked down at the screen. “I’m sorry, Brent, but I have to take this. It’s the hotel.”
“Of course.” He lowered his head and slowly backed away, giving her some privacy. Unbelievable. Had she really forgotten that “Blue Christmas,”theirsong, was her ringtone—that it had been for a year now? She had never changed it back, even during summertime, saying it meant too much to her. From the looks of it now, she’d never heard that song coming from her pocket before. How was that possible after everything that song had meant to them?
What was going on with her memory today? Perhaps it was stress. Brent shook his head. He hoisted the tree into the back of the truck. Stress could certainly cause forgetfulness, right?
He felt terrible that their relationship was causing her any stress at all. He hated that this transition had to be so hard on her. Clara had seemed to be doing so well during the deployment. She always seemed so strong. So positive. So open about everything. When they’d had their hard days, they had always talked things through. She was never closed off to him, the way she seemed to be now.
Perhaps he had simply been blind to the truth. Maybe things were so much more difficult for her than he’d ever known. Brent lay his forehead on his arm, resting on the edge of the truck bed. Everything seemed so right between them at times. But then there were others when it felt as if they were completely distant from each other. He lifted his head and firmed his jaw. Maybe some of his memories from the past year weren’t as meaningful to her as they had been to him. Or perhaps it was worse thanthat. Maybe theirrelationshipmeant more to him than it did to her.
No. Brent shook his head and closed his eyes. He knew deep down that wasn’t true. Besides, it wasn’t like him to give up, to accept defeat. No, he would figure this out. He would make a plan and work through the problem. He banged the edge of his truck with an open palm and raised his chin. Yes, that’s what he would do.
Perhaps this was the reminder he needed that relationships take work, not only during the tough times, but on a daily basis. Perhaps all he needed was to work harder to make new memories for themthisChristmas.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CLARA
“Clara, we need you to come in right now.” The frantic voice of the hotel’s longtime front-desk agent, Lucy, was on the other end.
“Why, what’s going on?”
“Look, I know you called in because your boyfriend just got home. I get it. But things are a mess. You need to get here immediately.”
“What things? What’s a mess?”
“Mr. Spencer. His meeting room wasn’t ready when he arrived this morning, and his clients are all waiting out in the hallway. He’s mad, Clara. He’s threatening to take his business somewhere else.”
Clara gasped. “Mr. Spencer? My meeting isn’t for another few days. He’s not supposed to be there until Thursday.”
