Page 28 of Saved By Noel
“We’re done talking about this. Let’s go enjoy our Christmas Eve,” I say, pulling into Davis’ driveway.
“Yes, let’s,” Pops quips, an ornery twinkle in his eye.
Four hours later, I unlock my front door and let Chase run inside ahead of me. I arrange plastic containers of leftovers in the fridge, grateful I won’t have to cook for the next couple of days. Before letting the kids go wild opening gifts, we’d enjoyed a full Christmas dinner with smoked turkey, ham, and endless sides. I stuffed myself with more food than I’d normally eat, just to keep my mouth full and avoid answering leading questions.
Aside from some sly side remarks, Davis and Syd were considerate enough not to grill me about Clara openly in the presence of their families. But there had been several near-misses with Pops. Pretty sure he was intentionally trying to out me.
Not that there is anything to out. I have no underlying feelings for Clara.
Then again, my success rate at convincing myself of such is slowly nosediving.
I shouldn’t have texted her that day after she left. Ever since she called me unexpectedly and I’d listened to her sugar-spun voice again, I haven’t been able to get that voice out of my head. Or those cornflower blues—eyes I’d seen light up with laughter and pool with pain. I’m not sure which version tormented me more.
Taking a seat in my leather “thinking chair,” I close my eyes, trying to slow my thoughts. Chase is still amped from all the chaotic attention he received from the kids tonight. He tries to engage me in tug-of-war with his rope. When I don’t play along, he goes full-on zoomies mode and races imaginary competitors around the room.
My thoughts are running similar circles. I’ve tried every trick I can think of to put Clara out of my mind. I kept myself busy so I’d have less time to think—unsuccessful. Then, I attempted to discourage my mind from dredging her up by listing out things I don’t like any time she popped into my head—wildlyunsuccessful. Drowning out my inner monologue by listening to loud music at all times was my most recent failure—couldn’t handle it because I enjoy silence too much.
I lean my head back against the chair and stare at the ceiling. There’s something about Clara that keeps reeling me back toward her. As attracted as I am to her gorgeous appearance, it’s not about her looks. It’s something about her sweetness, her eagerness, her spark. I’m a fish caught by the hook—I swallowed the shiny bait, and now I’m desperately trying to swim away before I’m a goner.
I can’t be a goner. I enjoy my solitary life too much—Ineedmy solitary life too much. I wouldn’t fit with Clara. She wouldn’t fit with me. She’d get sick of a relationship with me so fast, it’s best to not even go there. For her sake, more than mine.
But all my mental thrashing hasn’t snapped the fishing line yet.
I don’t think through what I’m about to do before my feet are moving, carrying me back out to the truck. Chase happily tags along, settled and content next to me as we drive the winding road.
Killing the truck engine, I whistle for Chase and close the door as quietly as possible. The multicolored glow of Christmas lights may as well be a searchlight beaming the cabin’s location to the entire town. I know she’s not home, and I also know she doesn’t have any security cameras, so she’ll never know I’m here.
Chase leads the way around the back of the house, drawn to the bright lights like a mosquito to a bug zapper. We need a lot of those in the Arkansas summers.
I round the corner of her cabin and bark out a laugh before I can stop myself. Lord knows how many strands of lights that fiercely determined woman strung up out here. There are three evergreen trees covered in more lights than they have pine needles.
Clara doesn’t have any furniture on the deck, so I ease myself down to sit on the edge, taking in the bright view. I have to hand it to her; as I sit here in the festive glow, there’s a flicker of contentedness that flashes through me.
Dad would have hated this.It’s not as though my family forbade private Christmas decorations in town—heck, Davis and Sydney’s house was decked out with lights and a huge tree. We even had a small artificial tree growing up. It was the overdone public displays that got shot down before they could even be suggested.
“This isn’t some holiday circus town.”I can still hear my grandad’s cranky voice.“We’re an upstanding city full of salt-of-the-earth people. The Noel family name will not stoop to tourist trap nonsense.”
Noel family men had a long history of strong opinions and dogged bullheadedness. At least I came by it honestly. But we also had a long history of taking care of this city, thepeopleof this city, doing all we could to help it prosper. My grandad was the mayor responsible for enticing Byers to build a plant here back when my dad was a teenager.
Dad also served a long stretch of time as mayor, though he found his success working as a financial planner for the northwest Arkansas region rather than working with Byers. I’m sure Dad intended for my older brother, Sam, to take a turn at the mayor helm one day. I can’t imagine the disappointment he’d feel knowing we’d lost the stability of the Byers plant on my watch.
Scratch that—I canexactlyimagine his disappointment. I’d experienced enough of it throughout my life to describe its precise flavor and texture without having to taste it now.
I lose track of time sitting out in the cold on Clara’s deck. Chase explores the area in the kaleidoscope of lights as I silently watch. I picture Clara out here, curls piled on top of her head,intensity in her blue eyes, wrapping strand after strand around the trees. I imagine her dangerously perched atop one of the stools from her kitchen to reach the highest boughs of the taller trees. I’m hit with a pang of regret that I wasn’t here to help her.
“Snap out of it, man,” I tell myself, Chase’s ears perking up at the sound of my voice. He rushes over and nudges his head through the crook of my arm propped against my knee. “We can’t let her in, boy,” I tell Chase, who whimpers.
“I’ll be civil. But we gotta keep our distance.”
Chapter nineteen
Clara
Our company onboarded two major clients in January, so I was far too swamped to make a trip down to my cabin. But my boss promised I could take two days off to make a long weekend possible at the beginning of February. I’ve never been more excited about a break in my life.
Driving south down the highway, Tineke strapped into the passenger seat, my mind jitters with thoughts of Clark. No matter that I hadn’t seen him for nine weeks or that the last time I did see him was unarguably awful—I couldn’t seem to evict him from my thoughts.
I’d shared as much with Madison, who responded with a disapproving lecture about boundaries and toxic people. Then again, she’s the one who refuses to kick out the roommate whose most recent hobby resulted in the tent fumigation of their house. So my kettle is no blacker than her pot.
