Page 17 of One Hundred Merry Memories

She nodded, her throat feeling tight. She could very well be stuck in her cabin with Jackson for days. She hardly knew him, but her gut told her he was a good person. Surely, Doc wouldn’t send someone to look after her that wasn’t trustworthy. Then again, she didn’t know Doc. Her inner voice reminded her that she’d invited him to live with her the day after she met him. That behavior was unusual for her, but in his presence, she experienced a newfound sense of goodness. From that moment onwards, her perception of him had only grown more positive. He consistently demonstrated kindness and generosity, leaving her with an undeniable feeling of goodwill and trust.

“Let’s get stocked up,” she said. They agreed that she’d provide room and board, and she wasn’t about to go back on her word. “Oh my, I don’t even know if the stove and refrigerator work.”

“They do. I checked them this morning when you went to shower. Everything is functional.”

“Thank the Lord.”

As they walked, storefronts with their Christmas lights twinkled merrily, the smell of mouth-watering brownies from the bakery hung in the air, and the soft hum of carols sounded in the distance. It was a picture-perfect postcard scene, contradicting the storm that was brewing.

“They sure start Christmas early here. We haven’t even gotten to Thanksgiving.” She hadn’t considered the day generally celebrated en masse by families all over the United States. It was only two weeks away. She wondered where she’d be. Would she share it with Jackson or eat a turkey TV dinner with Catsby?

“I think Katie is leading the holiday decor charge, but I also imagine it gets pretty chilly to be out decorating in the snow.”

“Right.” She hadn’t considered that, but it sounded wise not to hang lights or paint windows in a blizzard.

As they approached the store, Amanda marveled at the scene artfully painted across the glass. An idyllic, snowy landscape unfurled in frosted pastels, dotted with quaint cottages that emanated a sense of coziness and festivity. Each house was painstakingly detailed, smoke wafting from miniature chimneys and each window twinkling as if lit from within.

A jolly Santa Claus with rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes took center stage astride his sleigh piled high with fancy wrapped gifts. His strong and graceful reindeer were captured mid-leap, creating the illusion of movement as if flying across the winter sky. Santa’s hearty laugh was almost audible, the artist skillfully capturing the infectious joy and spirit of the season.

Beside Santa, a majestic Christmas tree stood tall, its branches heavy with glistening snow. It was adorned with multicolored baubles, twinkling lights, and strands of shiny tinsel, a star perched on top, standing out against the painted night sky.

The edges of the window held delicate snowflakes, each unique and precisely designed. Their icy, crystalline patterns sparkled as they caught the light, creating a stunning frame for the festive scene within.

“That is gorgeous. It must have cost a fortune.”

Jackson laughed. “That’s not how the town works. The artist is a local, Sosie Grant, who volunteered her talents. Most of the paintings you’ll see in town are hers.”

“Well, she’s amazing.”

Jackson opened the door to let her inside, and The Corner Store, with its homely charm, reminded Amanda of an old country market. Baskets filled with fresh fruits and vegetables sat inside the entrance; buckets of flowers sat near the register as if waiting to hitch a ride home in someone’s cart.

Despite the charming, laidback esthetic, the store was abuzz with urgency. In their haste to gather supplies, the townsfolk transformed what was probably a quiet store into a bustling marketplace.

Navigating through the narrow aisles, Amanda found herself clinging to Jackson, her senses overwhelmed. The store was a symphony of sounds – the rustle of paper bags, the soft chime of the cash register, the murmur of conversation. The intimate setting transported her to a world far removed from the spacious, sterile supermarkets she had grown accustomed to in the city.

Jackson’s presence, however, was a calming force in the whirlwind of activity. His easy familiarity with the store and its patrons and calm demeanor eased her anxiety.

The approaching storm had brought the town together in a way Amanda hadn’t anticipated. As they prepared to weather the snowstorm, she could only marvel at the sense of closeness—a stark contrast to city life’s impersonal hustle and bustle.

Amanda’s gaze was drawn to a whirlwind of motion near the canned goods. A woman, her hair knotted up in a messy bun with a baby perched on her hip, was herding a group of children of varying ages. Despite the apparent chaos, the woman was unfazed, navigating the small store with awe-inspiring ease.

“Who’s that?” Amanda asked Jackson, nodding subtly toward the spectacle.

“That’s Louise,” Jackson answered, following Amanda’s gaze. “And those are her eight kids. Believe it or not, she’s always the picture of calm in the storm.”

Amanda watched as Louise ushered her brood down the aisle, her voice firm but kind as she instructed the older ones to help the younger ones. The children, for all their energy, listened to their mother, their actions reflecting respect and adoration for the woman who guided them.

The scene left an incredible heartwarming impression, enveloping Amanda with a deep sense of familial love. As she witnessed Louise's interactions with her children, a pang of longing surged within her, sparking a yearning for her own family. However, she swiftly quashed the thought, resolute in her decision that the only love she would embrace would be the one she expressed through her written words and stories.

“Must be a handful,” Amanda commented, her voice soft as she continued to watch the family.

“She and her husband, Bobby, take it all in stride. Doc often says that if Louise didn’t stop at eight, Bobby would have had them populate the town of Aspen Cove on their own.”

As they continued shopping, Amanda found herself stealing glances at Louise as she maneuvered her large brood, shepherding them with the practiced ease of a seasoned conductor leading an eager orchestra. The children, in return, moved with a chaotic harmony, their energy both infectious and overwhelming.

Jackson rushed forward when one of the eight sat on the ground and screamed. “Need a hand, Louise?” Louise looked over, her eyes brightening at the sight of Jackson. “I can always use an extra set of hands.”

Jackson turned to Amanda, winking conspiratorially. “Ready to dive into the deep end?”

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