Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
He wasn't prepared to make that kind of life-altering concession, and Amy had made it clear she wasn't, either. So where did that leave them? His thoughts spiraled downward from there, and by the time he reached his grandparents' house, he was as discouraged as he'd ever been in his life.
As if Granddad's worsening illness wasn't enough, now Jason could add losing Amy to the list. Hands down, this was going to be the worst Christmas ever.
Chapter Ten
A
fter stewing for a while, Amy came to the conclusion that she'd unfairly pummeled Jason with months' worth of frustration and resentment. And God bless him, he'd stood there and taken every blow without either retaliating or backing down. He'd held his ground, making it abundantly clear he was doing it for her own good. She wasn't accustomed to fighting so vigorously with someone and not coming out the winner.
Unfortunately, this time she might have won the argument, but she'd lost the respect of someone who'd come to mean more to her than she'd fully realized until now. Truth be told, Jason had pinpointed some of her reservations so accurately, it had frightened her. And when she was scared, she puffed herself up like a threatened kitten and lashed out with her claws. It wasn't pretty, and she wasn't proud of it, but there it was. He'd treated her with nothing other than kindness and care, and she'd rewarded him with venom.
At the very least, she owed him an apology. The humble-pie kind best delivered in person. A quick glance at the clock showed her it was still relatively early, and she had plenty of time to go to choir rehearsal, stammer her regret and slink into her usual place in the soprano section.
She knew it was best to get things like this over with, so she pushed away from her desk and reluctantly headed for the front door. The night air was cool but pleasant, and it felt good on her face. The view of Christmas lights and decorations up and down Main Street lifted her spirits considerably, and by the time she reached the Crossroads Church, she felt slightly better about talking with Jason.
He was the most patient, tolerant man she'd ever met, she reassured herself as she climbed the steps. Now that the dust had settled, he must understand how important this opportunity was to her. She only hoped he'd be able to forgive her cold behavior and they could remain friends. Because she had to admit, the shy little girl who still lived inside her adored the burly lumberjack with the generous heart. Perhaps, if they stayed in touch, their paths would intersect again and...
What? Pausing in the vestibule, she took a moment to let that thought play out. Unfortunately, it dead-ended right there, leaving her with a big, unanswered question echoing in her mind. Did she want more than friendship with Jason? Even if she did, he might not feel the same. And if he shared her feelings, how on earth would they make a serious relationship work? Soon, it would be more than distance separating them. She was as driven as he was easygoing, and she'd probably make him nuts within a month.
Then again, she reasoned as she went into the chapel, they'd been working together at the studio all this time and after getting accustomed to each other's vastly different styles, they'd proven to be an excellent team. Then there were those promising kisses under the mistletoe. She wouldn't mind some more of those. The trouble was, she'd learned the hard way that things didn't always go the way she wanted them to. If a romance with Jason went awry, she'd lose him altogether. She didn't even want to consider that.
Left with a thorny problem and no concrete solution, she took her spot next to Brenda and greeted the other singers around her. Jason wasn't there yet, so she distracted herself by admiring the decorations the Ladies' Aid had brought in.
Evergreen ropes were swagged all around the little church, and each windowsill held a rich burgundy poinsettia and an electric candle. On either side of the altar stood a tall tree, decorated in tasteful white lights and velvet ribbons. Each had a crystal star at the top that caught the light, tossing prisms onto the old wooden floorboards. Simple elegance, she thought with a smile. She couldn't imagine a more fitting way to deck out this charming country chapel nestled in the Blue Ridge valley.
Mrs. Griggs called for their attention, and everyone quieted down. A quick glance over at the tenors showed Amy that Jason still hadn't arrived, and she frowned. As he'd so emphatically told her, he didn't duck his responsibilities, and she worried that something might have happened.
Leaning in, she asked Brenda, “Is everything all right with the Barretts?”
“As far as I know,” she whispered back. “If it wasn't, Mom would've heard about it and told us.”
Amy didn't doubt that for a second, and as the soprano line picked up their part in “O Holy Night,” she decided Jason must be working late to finish one of his many projects at the mill. Christmas was coming up fast, and furniture orders had to be shipped soon to arrive on time. Reassured, she put him out of her mind and focused on accurately hitting as many of the notes as she could.
As a dancer, she'd spent most of her holidays onstage, so the prospect of a Christmas Eve performance was nothing new for her. But back then, she'd been one of the stars, not part of a large group like this. The camaraderie was a novel experience, and she found herself enjoying it more than she'd anticipated.
Much of the time she'd spent back in her hometown had been like that, she realized with a smile. She couldn't recall being this content anywhere else, and she knew Jason had a lot to do with that. With his thoughtful, attentive nature, he'd helped to heal old wounds she hadn't been aware she was still carrying. She only hoped the rest of her stay here would be just as happy.
Before she knew it, rehearsal was over. Mrs. Griggs reminded them all that next week would be their last practice, and they should plan on arriving early Christmas Eve to warm up their voices and do a few run-throughs before the service began.
Eager to put her apology behind her, Amy stopped outside and brought up Jason's number from her list. When he didn't answer, she assumed he was in the noisy workshop and couldn't hear his phone. She wanted to speak to him in person, so she opted not to leave a message. That way, he'd see he missed a call from her and could return it if he wanted to talk to her.
If he didn't...well, at least then she'd know where she stood with him. After the way she'd behaved, she didn't deserve his forgiveness, but she prayed he'd give it to her anyway.
Strolling up the sidewalk toward Arabesque, she noticed a subdued glow in the front window. She'd deliberately left the outside display on, but the studio itself had been dark when she left. Then it occurred to her that Jason must have told Uncle Fred he was going to have to finish the sets for the show. She felt horrible for imposing on a man still nursing an injured back, but she really had no choice.
Hoping to make things easier on him, she picked up her pace and mentally prepared herself to be as helpful as her meager carpentry skills would allow. She unlocked the front door, quieting the bells while she closed it and turned the dead bolt behind her. When she caught the sound of classic rock coming from the stage, she looked over in surprise.
There was Jason, a paintbrush in either hand, applying the faux marble finish she'd chosen for the fireplace. Normally, he looked happy while he was working, but tonight he wore a grim expression, as if he was putting in his time and couldn't wait to leave. That was her fault, but the upside was that since she'd done it, she was the one person who could undo it.
Before she had a chance to reconsider, she walked through the wings and paused behind him. He didn't acknowledge her presence in any way, and she swallowed hard before saying, “That looks really nice.”
“It's what you said you wanted,” he said, not looking at her as he continued painting. “I'm just following orders.”
Flat and emotionless, somehow his words still had a bite to them. At first, she didn't understand why, but she quickly figured it out. Jason always spoke to her with warmth in his voice and a twinkle in his eyes. While she knew the cold shoulder was well deserved, she couldn't bear communicating with him this way. “Could you stop for a minute?”
“I have to keep blending or the paint'll dry the wrong color.”
“I don't care.”
Pausing midstroke, he angled a look back at her. “Seriously? I thought everything had to be perfect for the show.”
“It will be.” Hearing the confidence in her tone, she realized she truly meant what she'd said. “You'll make it perfect, because that's what you do.”
Setting the brushes across the top of an open can, he stood and faced her. “I try.”
“I know you do,” she assured him quickly. “Jason, please forgive me for the way I acted yesterday. I was feeling overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair, and neither was comparing you to Devon. You're nothing like him, and it was wrong of me to accuse you of being otherwise.”
Gazing down at her, his eyes shone with compassion. “You're scared about the surgery, aren't you?”
“Terrified,” she confirmed on a shaky breath. “But I'm more scared of not giving it a chance. I mean, what if it works?”
“What if it doesn't?”
“That's the problem,” she agreed solemnly. “I've never had to make a huge decision like this that could mess up the rest of my life. One minute, I'm sure going ahead with the procedure is the right thing for me, and the next I want to call Dr. Fitzgerald and back out. I'm so confused, it's like I'm spinning in circles.”
Grasping one of her hands, he reeled her into his arms and held her tightly against his chest. With his heart beating a steady cadence under her cheek, Amy felt as if nothing in the world could possibly harm her. Part of her wanted nothing more than to stay right where she was, but the tug of a dream left unfulfilled was pulling her in another direction.
Tipping her head back, she gazed up at the man who'd done so much for her. He'd brought the very best part of her back to life, and the thought of leaving him behind was almost more than she could stand.
Cupping her cheek in his callused hand, he leaned in to brush a gentle kiss over her lips. Then he rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “This surgery is really what you want?”
The acceptance in his tone, despite the misgivings he'd so loudly stated, touched her deeply. “Yes, but I'm still petrified.”
“That's 'cause you're a smart cookie.” He ticked the tip of her nose with his finger. “But if it doesn't work, I hope you know there's always a place for you here in Barrett's Mill.”
“With you?” The words slipped out on their own, and she felt her face reddening in embarrassment. When would she learn to think first and blurt later?
Thankfully, Jason met her slipup with a chuckle. “Well, I'm not going anywhere.”
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a no, either. Normally, she detested getting a wishy-washy maybe, but considering the circumstances, she'd have to take what he was willing to offer her. For now, it was enough to know he didn't hate her and would support her decision, even though he didn't understand it.
Some days, that was the best a girl could hope for.
* * *
“There's my girl!” Stepping out of a rented convertible, Connie Morgan all but smothered Amy in an enthusiastic hug. Eyeing her critically, she smiled. “You look wonderful. I wasn't sure you'd like it here after so many years away, but it seems to agree with you.”
“Aunt Helen and Uncle Fred have been taking good care of me,” Amy replied with a smile of her own. “And it's fun getting to hang out with Brenda again. She always was my favorite cousin.”
“Oh, I remember you two when you were little. Always whispering and giggling about one thing or another.”
“It's pretty much the same now,” Amy told her. “It's just now we talk about her kids instead of all the cool new clothes we want for our Barbies.”
“How fun.” With an arm still around her shoulders, Mom turned to look at the front of the studio. Amy had left all the decorative lights on, and in the cloudy morning the effect was pretty much the same as at night. “Just beautiful. I especially like the arbor and the tree with all those twinkling lights. They really capture the whimsy of
The Nutcracker
.”
“Have you been reading Broadway reviews again?” Amy teased, hugging her mother back. “I'm glad you like it, but I had a lot of help.”
“Jason,” Mom said with a knowing look. “I've heard a lot about him, but not from you. I wonder why that is.”
A blush crept over Amy's cheeks, and she hedged, “I figured Aunt Helen would tell you everything you needed to know.”
“Hometown boy, back from the wilds of Oregon to help save his family's business and yours, besides. He sounds like a hero straight out of a romantic movie.”
Amy couldn't agree more, but she hesitated to voice her opinion of him and give her mother the wrong idea. Her relationship with Jason was tentative, at best, and she wasn't at all certain how it would end. Her family had been through so much since her accident, she didn't want to drag them through any more drama.
Then she noticed a familiar green pickup coming up Main Street, and she realized her plan was about to be blown apart. Once her mother saw her with Jason, she'd have to fess up and admit she felt more than friendship for the tall lumberjack. A lot more.
“Is that him?” Mom asked.
“Yes. Please behave yourself.”
“Why would youâ” He stepped from the cab, and Mom let out a sigh of approval. “Oh, my.”
Amy couldn't help grinning, because she felt the same way as he strode toward them. Strong and solid, he moved with an innate confidence that made other men look small by comparison. “Mother, try to remember he's my age.”
“Oh, sweetie, I'm just looking,” she said airily, then giggled. “And admiring.”
“All the girls around here do.”
“Do what?” Jason asked as he joined them.
“Think you're a hunk,” Amy replied, laughing when he made a face. Resting a hand on her mother's shoulder, she went on. “Jason Barrett, this is my mom, Connie Morgan.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma'am,” he said, shaking her hand gently. “I have to say, this is quite the daughter you've raised. You must be real proud of her.”