Not Quite Crazy
Page 8

“I miss that man.”
“I miss them all,” Trent said.
Glen patted Trent’s back. He’d always blamed himself for their parents’ accident. He’d found out that the woman he thought he loved, the woman he had considered marrying, was already married. He asked his father to fly her home, and their mother had gone with him since it was a night flight. The plane went down, killing all three of them on board.
Jason looked over the mess they were making, which would eventually be magical. “Not to sound all mystical and stuff, but it feels like they’re here.”
Trent’s eyes welled, and Jason looked away, pretending he didn’t notice. His own throat clogged with emotion.
Glen cut the melancholy. “Yeah, and Dad is laughing at how long it’s taking us to get this up.”
“Right!”
Half an hour later, Jason took a break to check on the progress outside. A lighting service was there with two cherry pickers, and a team of five guys was tacking Christmas lights along the eaves lines.
Nathan played foreman and made his way to Jason’s side. “This makes me smile, lad.”
“It’s a lot of work.”
“Celebrating our good Lord’s birth is worth it, don’t you think?”
“This would be easier if this place wasn’t so big.”
“But it wouldn’t be your home.”
True. He’d never lived in a modest home. Ever.
His thoughts turned to Rachel. Was she a tree and lights kinda woman, or did she have Santa throw up everywhere? Or maybe she didn’t do anything at all.
He dialed her number to find out.
“Hello.” She sounded surprised.
“Good morning.”
“It’s one o’clock.”
“Good afternoon, then.”
She laughed. The kind of nervous laugh that said his call may have flustered her. He liked that thought.
“I was wondering about something,” he started.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I was calling to see if you were a decorate the house for Christmas like it’s a department store kind of person, or a simple tree and string of lights and call it done.”
He heard her take a deep breath. “You’re calling me to find out how I decorate for Christmas?”
He considered how that sounded. “I called to hear your voice. Christmas lights were my excuse.”
She muttered something he didn’t quite get. “You’re making me blush.”
“Good.”
“I haven’t given it much thought,” she told him. “I probably should.”
He thought of her son. “Kids like Christmas.”
“Right . . . oh, geez. I should probably get a tree.” Her playful tone was replaced by distress.
“Did you bring your decorations with you on the move, or are you buying new?”
“I need to go shopping.”
That answered that. “You sound stressed.”
“I have a lot to do. This Christmas will be hard enough on Owen, I need to make it as normal as possible. That means a tree.” It sounded as if she were talking to herself. “And presents. Like from Santa. I’m sure he doesn’t believe in Santa, but I should probably still make the effort, right?”
Was she asking for his opinion?
“I’m sure your son knows the big man in the red suit is really just you.”
“My what . . . oh. No, no. Owen isn’t my son.”
It was Jason’s turn to be surprised. “He’s not?”
Rachel paused. “His mom, Emily, was my best friend. She . . .”
Jason closed his eyes, knew what was coming.
“Cancer. Rare and aggressive. She asked me to take care of Owen when she died. Not that she needed to.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you my life was complicated.”
“And I like complicated.” He wasn’t sure that was completely true, but he was sticking to his words.
“She passed in May. Between the move, my new job, and taking on Owen, Christmas decorations haven’t entered my mind.”
He thought about how long it had taken for the Fairchild men to redecorate after the loss of their parents. “It’s not a priority.”
“Yeah, it is. Owen is still a kid. He had to grow up a lot after Em. I need to make this work.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
“I’m guaranteed to screw it up. But I have to try. Do tree lots deliver? I don’t even know what a tree costs.” She was doing that talking to herself thing again.
He thought of the tree arriving later that day for the family room. The cost of the thing almost matched the delivery fee because of its size.
“I have a truck.”
“I couldn’t ask you . . .”
“You didn’t ask.”
Silence.
“I was going to ask you out for dinner, but tree shopping was my second choice.”
Crickets.
“I haven’t dated since Owen,” she told him. “I don’t know how this fits.”
“It’s tree shopping. Bring Owen along.”
“I don’t know.”
“Wednesday night,” he said. “Just a friendly thank-you from the stranger you met on the side of the road. Practical, since I have a truck.” It was actually Nathan’s truck, but he wasn’t about to split hairs over it.
“Wednesday?”
She was considering it.
“I’ll bring a thermos of hot cocoa.”
She laughed. “Okay.”
Jason hadn’t worked that hard for a first date in years. Most women jumped. “Seven?”
“Seven should work.”
“I’ll see you then.”
After he hung up, he gave a celebratory fist to the air. He turned to go back into the house and found Monica watching him from inside. She questioned him with her eyes.
He waved and walked back around the house to avoid any questions.
It was almost as if Jason’s mention of Christmas illuminated the holiday in Technicolor. Everywhere Rachel went after his call screamed Santa. Thanksgiving had been rather low-key, a meal at a restaurant, a few tense moments when Owen went to bed early and Rachel heard him crying in his room. There hadn’t been many of those times since they’d moved to the East Coast. But they happened enough to remind them both of their loss. Every month proved easier. The grief counselors told her that the first set of holidays would be the hardest. Which meant Rachel needed to do everything in her power to allow Christmas to live.
She’d spent a lot of time in Emily’s condo during the holidays. She always had a tree and really loved red and white lights. Rachel hadn’t really bothered. A tabletop tree, if she remembered, and the presents she’d buy were store wrapped to perfection. The single woman in the group didn’t do the entertaining, so decorating wasn’t a priority.
She pulled into her driveway and stared at her house.
She’d never strung Christmas lights in her life.
“How hard can it be?” she asked herself.
With her arms loaded with groceries, she looked up the street to see one of her neighbors standing on a ladder, hammer in hand. Across from him, another man was blanketing his shrubs in a netting of lights.
Yep, Christmas was everywhere.
“Owen?”
“Yeah?”
“Help with the groceries.”
Footsteps down the stairs followed her request. He brought in the rest of the bags and helped her unpack. He opened a package of cookies from the in-store bakery before putting one thing away.