Page 41 of Not In The Christmas Plan
Chapter eighteen
When Ivy and I used to play with the neighborhood kids, Ms. Thomas never minded us running through her yard and driveway, but this is the first time I’ve actually been inside her house.
It’s like stepping into a Christmas catalog. The smell of cinnamon and cloves wraps around me, easing some of the tightness in my shoulders. There’s heavy burgundy curtains and velvet textures. Two narrow trees with large glittering gold ornaments flank the entryway, and a grand one in the sitting room gleams with red bows on every branch.
“Go on ahead and have a seat,” Ms. Thomas says, disappearing into the kitchen.
I slide my jacket off and sink into her couch, the blanket beneath me covered in Santas of every shade. From here I can see her pouring hot chocolate into mugs from her crockpot. I can’t believe I’m here. Ms. Thomas’s house was not where I imagined Christmas would take me, butthe thought of going back across the street to the empty house is unbearable.
“Here, Honey.” She hands me a steaming mug topped with jumbo marshmallows and cinnamon sprinkled on top.
We sit in silence for a few minutes as I sip and let the warmth and sweetness seep into my soul. For a moment, I imagine hot chocolate could fix everything wrong in my world.
Then, Ms. Thomas sets her mug on the wood coffee table and studies me. One sympathetic look is all it takes for my composure to break.
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” It all pours out in a rush. The stress of making everything perfect for Ivy here when I really want to betherefor her, and how incredibly sad I am spending this Christmas without Dad.
My fight with Grant and the fear that getting too close to him would only hurt more in the long run.
My words trip over each other until I’m out of breath and not entirely sure if I’m even coherent enough for her to understand me. But when it’s all out, I let out a deep, soul shuddering breath.
Ms. Thomas studies me for a long moment, then quietly says, “You remind me of your father.”
I smile weakly. “Because I’m a control freak?”
“Because you love so fiercely,” she says gently. “He did too. But he gave so much of himself to others that he forgot to leave anything for his own happiness.”
I glance down. She’s not wrong. Dad’s life revolved around Ivy and me. Of course, as we got older, weencouraged him to branch out with hobbies and even find love, but he claimed to be content with raising us. I’ve often wondered if that was truly the case.
“I guess you knew him pretty well,” I say, some of my misgivings seeping into my voice.
“Make no mistake, you and Ivy were his life. I don’t think he had any regrets for devoting everything he could to raising you two into the beautiful women that you are. It’s just that after your mother passed, it took him a long time to open his heart again. But once he did… that is to say your dad and I.” Ms. Thomas takes a long sip of her hot chocolate and lets out a nervous laugh. “Whew, I should’ve gone with the eggnog.” I watch her through narrowed eyes as she finally takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders. “Well, we were together for a while. Romantically.”
My mouth falls open. “I’m sorry, come again. You and…mydaddy?”
I’ve never seen Ms. Thomas blush, but blush she does. “It wasn’t long. We grew close after you and your sister left for college.” She stares into her cup, memories playing behind her eyes. “He was a good man, Eve. And he wished he’d made more time for joy sooner. He told me once that fear of losing someone again had kept him from really living for years.”
My throat tightens, but I can picture it. Ms. Thomas stopping by with the extra food she “just happened” to make, and Dad softening from polite acceptance to quietly looking forward to her drop-ins. Whenever we’d talk on the phone, he certainly never seemed to mind whenhe’d mention her meals. I should have picked up that something was going on then. I didn’t, but the thought of him finding comfort with her makes my heart ache in the best way.
“We may not have had long with one another, but what we had was special,” Ms. Thomas says wistfully. “I cherish every second I spent with him.” She lays a hand on my arm and squeezes softly. “You have his big heart, Eve. He would want you to use it, not protect it so fiercely that you forget how to.”
When I leave, the windy air doesn’t bite quite as sharply. My chest feels lighter, like I can finally take that much needed deep breath. I know I won’t forget her words for a long time. Now, whether I’ll apply her lesson to my own life remains to be seen.
And then I see the lights on at my house.
I pause right outside of Ms. Thomas’s door. I know I hadn’t turned on the Christmas lights before I left, and Grant was never able to get the timer to work.
Grant? Is he back?
My pulse leaps, but when I reach the driveway, it’s not his sedan I see. It’s Ivy’s.
Chapter nineteen
I’m across the street and bursting into the house in a flash.
“Ivy!” I yell as the door swings shut behind me.
There’s a small crash from the kitchen and a gasped, “Eve?”
