Waiting for December, page 23
thirty-four
“I HAVE SOME news,” Jesse tells me, five days before Christmas Eve. We’re at the outdoor fire. I can’t believe we’re still doing these fires, but we are. It’s no longer a question of if we’ll make it until Christmas Eve. We’ve already made it this far; it’s just what we’re doing.
It’s not about the challenge of beating Jesse and Brendan’s old record anymore. I think we both continue showing up because, for some reason, during these fifteen minutes, Jesse and I are still able to be “us.” Perhaps that’s because we’re out here for such a short amount of time that we don’t overthink anything we’re saying. Or because it’s so cold that both of us like to talk to distract ourselves. Or maybe it’s because Jesse keeps making the drinks stronger to help us stay warm, and the alcohol loosens us up. Whatever the reason, it’s nice to have this time, especially now that so much of our days are spent doing our own things.
“What is it?” I ask.
Jesse blows on his hands before answering. We’re both on our feet, standing near the flames. “My parents have made their decision.”
The temperature is in the low teens tonight, and it’s snowing. I’m so cold I assume I’m completely frozen—inside and out—but apparently my heart is still capable of movement. A lot of movement.
Holy hell. What is happening inside my chest?
I’ve known this was coming, but I thought it wouldn’t happen until after Christmas—no idea why. I also have no idea what Jesse is about to tell me because his face is giving nothing away. I didn’t realize just how much I want this for Jesse until now. I want this for him more than I’ve ever wanted anything for myself.
“What is it?” I press.
I’m getting a taste of what it’s like to wait for an answer I really care about. Now I feel even worse for what I’ve put Jesse and Sky through these past few weeks.
Waiting isn’t fun. It’s torturous.
Jesse reaches for the drink he had set down earlier on an armrest on one of the chairs. I hope he’s picking it up again to toast to the future and not because he’s going to need a drink to dull the disappointment. But either way, I just need to know—now.
Jesse turns toward me. “They’re going to let me keep the inn.”
“Oh, Jesse!” I scream. We do toast then, and I jump up and down, spilling my drink everywhere, but I don’t care. I fling my arms around Jesse in the biggest hug, my heart dancing.
I’ve never been so happy for someone in my life. Since I’ve gotten here, Jesse has been such a champion of me figuring out my dream. It’s so fitting that this holiday season is culminating with him getting his.
When we break apart, my vision is blurred with tears. “These are happy tears,” I clarify. “I’m so happy for you, Jesse.”
“Thanks,” he says, grinning, all that joy spilling over. But then he turns serious. “I also want you to know that no matter what happens between us, you have a job here after December.”
“Thank you, Jesse.”
“No matter what, Harper,” he stresses.
I hug him again. I can’t not hug him again. Jesse has always wanted what’s best for me, and although the dynamic between us has changed over the past three months, in both good and bad ways, he hasn’t changed.
I know who Jesse is, and because of his help, I’ve learned who I am.
“Merry Christmas, Jesse,” I say, grateful to know that no matter what, he and I will be okay.
thirty-five
THE ANNUAL CHRISTMAS Eve event at the inn is a way bigger deal than I thought. When I first arrived, Sky told me the whole town attends, but I just didn’t think he meant literally the whole town. I should’ve known, though; the 10K race for the hospital showed me that Stowe turns out for events. That, and Jesse has been talking about what a big production this party is for the past month.
But it’s not until two days before Christmas, when volunteers start materializing by the carload to donate their supplies and their time, that I fully grasp the scope of this tradition.
I have never seen so many people working together to build something so magical. The local music store brought a stage that their employees are helping to set up now for a concert performance by the high school show choir. At least twenty-five families showed up early this morning with thousands of strands of lights, which they’re now wrapping around the trees lining one of the trails behind the inn for a mile-long horse-drawn carriage ride through the woods. (Jesse’s friend, Will, and a few other residents with horses will bring them over in trailers on the big day.)
The owners of Milk & Maple are here too, setting up a drink cart that will serve hot chocolate. Beside it, a local bar, Hannigan’s, set up another drink cart that will provide hot adult beverages. Jesse has a whole list of food trucks offering dinner and dessert that will arrive the night of. Two men are wheeling in a gazebo on a truck past me to set up for Santa and his elves, and several others are bringing in insulated tents and space heaters to keep guests comfortable.
I feel as if I’ve been transported to a Hallmark movie Christmas set, which is good and bad. It’s good because I’ve never been a part of something like this, and it makes me love Stowe even more. It’s bad because at some point, I’m planning on talking to both Sky and Jesse, and this party will be a very public place for such private conversations.
I consider the possibility of waiting to talk to each of them until after the party, but it goes till midnight, and then it will be Christmas Day, and how would that even work? We’d all be dancing uncertainly around one another for hours.
Plus, at this point, I’m completely clear on my feelings and don’t think I can wait any longer to get them off my chest.
—
On Christmas Eve morning, I find Jesse putting big red bows on the chicken coop for guests who wander into the barn.
“Hey,” I say, walking toward him. “I was looking for you.”
“Hey,” he grins, handing me a box to help. We’ve been tag-teaming so many tasks the past few days. I keep thinking we must be done, but then more decorations seem to come out of nowhere. “What’s up?”
“Am I in charge of a particular booth or station tonight?”
“You’ve done the upfront work. Tonight you don’t have to worry about anything.” Except I do, I think. I’ll have to worry about your feelings and Sky’s.
“Oh, okay. Does the same go for you?”
“Yeah, pretty much. I’ll just walk around to see if anyone needs help with anything.”
I nod and tuck a strand of hair back behind my ear. This gesture alone causes Jesse to stop what he’s doing and face me.
“Will you . . . need me for something?”
“I just want to make sure we have time to talk.”
“Talk, talk?” he clarifies.
I nod. Jesse has been so patient the past few weeks, but now there’s a look of desperation on his face, as if he wants me to just say what’s on my heart right now. Part of me wants to. I want to be as careful with Jesse’s emotions as I can. Maybe I should just tell him now.
I clear my throat. “Jesse—” But then the chickens all start to cluck at once, and a familiar voice calls out my name, followed by Jesse’s name. I look over my shoulder.
It’s Will.
“I’ve got the horses in the trailer. Where do you want them this year?”
Jesse stares at me and I stare back at him, and for a moment I think he’s going to tell Will to get out right now.
But he only shakes his head and sighs. “Follow me, Will. I’ll show you.”
thirty-six
JESSE AND I are busy with tasks until six o’clock, when the party begins, so I’m not able to head back to my room to get ready until then. As I pull off my work clothes, I hear the commotion outside: indistinct chatter from guests who have already arrived, car doors opening and closing as more people show up and park, the show choir singing “Jingle Bell Rock.”
My heart goes into overdrive just thinking about the conversations I need to have tonight and wondering when Sky will arrive. He and his family could show up in a few hours, but they could also be out there right now.
I’m nervous to see him. I’m nervous for tonight in general. But at least I’m not undecided. Tonight will be hard and sad, exciting and new. I focus on the positive part of that statement as I pull out a festive look from my closet. Inspired by all the snow on the ground, I decide to go with a winter white outfit: white pants, a cream snow jacket over a white cashmere sweater, and a snowflake necklace and earrings.
As I clip my earrings in, I spy my bucket list on my dresser. Every single item on it is checked off. All of them. I can’t help but feel proud of all the progress I’ve made since I’ve been here.
It’s amazing what changes a person can make in her life in three months if she really dedicates herself to doing the work. I like that I’ve learned this. I like knowing it’s possible to start over. No matter how bad things get, there is always a new life waiting. A better life waiting. We just need to have the courage to take the necessary steps to go after it.
This newfound wisdom has given me the quiet surety that no matter what happens next—good or bad—I’ll be okay. I’ll be able to figure it out. I might not have found my passion while I’ve been here, but gaining this confidence is an even better gift. At least that’s what I wrote in my journal last night.
I tuck my bucket list inside my dresser now and walk to my bed, pulling my journal off my bedside table and jotting down a few thoughts I haven’t had a chance to note yet today.
I’ll hold on to this practice even after tonight. In fact, I think I’ll keep a lot of the habits I’ve developed in my time here.
I won’t go back to using my phone as I did before, for instance. I’ve really benefitted from the separation from technology. It’s made me more present. I don’t think I’ll go back to watching TV either. I’ve missed a few of my favorite shows, but I’ve discovered novels, and reading is the nicest replacement.
I’ll never go back to the hectic, unfulfilling lifestyle I had before. I like rising early and working hard in a setting that brings me joy. I like ending the day with gratitude and good company. And I know the inn isn’t the only place where I can live like this. I can live like this anywhere. I just have to make the conscious choice to do so.
And I won’t regress to the person I was before. I don’t think I can, honestly, given all I’ve learned about myself and the changes I’ve made since I’ve arrived.
I really like the person I am now.
And I really like one other person . . .
I close my journal, setting it aside.
It’s time to tell that person how I feel.
thirty-seven
I SPY SKY seconds after stepping outside my cottage, and my breath catches in my throat. He’s near the cocktail cart with his entire family. He spots me almost immediately, as if he sensed where I was and knew right where to look. That wouldn’t surprise me given the strength of the connection we’ve had since we first met.
When our eyes lock, my pulse kicks into high gear, and I give him a little wave. He waves back, and I see a faint smile on his lips, as if he’s not quite sure whether he should be happy to see me or dreading it.
I think he’s waiting to see how I react. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jesse helping out at the hot cocoa cart, passing out cups to little kids. In case Sky’s following my gaze, I don’t react. Both of them deserve a private conservation.
I just nod my head in the direction of the gazebo, indicating that Sky should meet me there. I don’t head toward him because I don’t want to talk to his entire family right now. And knowing Sky, he wouldn’t want that either. I bet he’s happy for an excuse to extract himself, honestly.
A couple of benches behind the gazebo where Santa and his elves are seated are empty. Families are lined up in front, waiting for their turn to meet him and have their pictures taken. Assuming parking ourselves behind the star attraction is probably our best bet at not being disturbed, I take a seat beside a space heater there and wait. When Sky doesn’t join me right away, I look around, wondering if he didn’t understand my nod or where I was nodding to. Just as I’m about to rise to my feet to go check, he appears, and my heart starts to hammer.
He looks the exact same as the last time I saw him . . . only better. He told me once that he works out whenever he’s missing me. Well, either he’s been missing me a ton or he found new motivation; his jeans are fitting him just right, and once he spots me, he pulls off his black jacket—maybe because he’s the overheated kind of nervous—and I see that his fitted forest-green sweater is clinging to his biceps and abs.
He’s taking me in as he approaches, and gives me another faint smile when he’s finally standing before me.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi,” I reply.
He reaches a hand behind his neck as if he’s unsure whether to hug me or just sit down. I get to my feet and hug him, making the decision for him. Only once we’re wrapped in each other’s arms, I’m reminded how difficult this entire decision has been, and tears instantly come.
Sky must feel them spilling onto his neck because he starts to withdraw. And then he’s looking at me and sees my tears, and I know he knows what’s coming next.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, a quiet sob escaping with the words. He lets out an exhale that’s so deep, he must have been holding his breath since we wrote each other last. Then he wipes away my tears and brings his forehead to mine.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
I’m so sure.
But that doesn’t make this any easier. In fact, I’m reminded why this decision was so hard to make. There are real, strong feelings here, on Sky’s end and on mine.
What I have with Sky . . . it could be great if we ever gave it a real shot. But this thing I have with Jesse—it’s already here. And it’s not going anywhere. It’s become an immovable, essential part of me.
A million times I tried to run through scenarios in which I chose Sky, and I could see us being happy. The promise was there. But what I couldn’t imagine in any scenario was saying goodbye to Jesse.
I asked myself which love I couldn’t live without. This was my answer.
Still, that doesn’t make it hurt less.
I step away from him and reach for his hand, pulling him down onto the bench beside me. I keep his hand in mine as I tell him how much I struggled with this decision and how sorry I am for both the pain I’m causing and the additional layer of hurt I know he must feel given that he’s experienced this kind of rejection before.
“I’ve been in your shoes,” I remind him. “I hate that I’m causing you to feel something that was so difficult for me to feel. But do you remember our letter to each other about fate and timing?”
Sky nods, letting me know he’s listening. Good. I wasn’t sure if he was. He looks as if he’s in his head right now. Not that I can blame him.
“I don’t know why I met you on my flight here and not in Atlanta before that,” I say. “I don’t know why life works out the way it does. I don’t want you—or I—to go there. But I really believe we met each other for a reason. I believe we went through all this together for a reason. And I’m trusting the timing of my life, Sky. I think trusting it, in addition to trusting myself, is the best way to live. And my hope is that you can go forward trusting the timing of your life and yourself too.”
Sky looks away and I give him a minute. I’ll give him all the minutes he needs. I wish I could give him a cure for the broken heart I’ve caused too. But the only cure I’ve found for that is time. And the willingness and courage to get on your feet again and start over.
Sky finally turns back and meets my gaze. “If you ever change your mind—”
“I won’t,” I reply. I don’t want him to cling to any false hope. I’ve already made him wait too long. I want to set him free, the same way Jake set me free when he was finally honest about how he felt. I understand Jake now, better than I ever have.
“Okay,” he nods, bringing my hands to his lips and kissing them softly, kissing me goodbye.
I know how difficult it must be for him to accept my decision. Fresh tears fall down my face. Sky is a such good man.
But I also learn something about him: Sky will be okay. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not for a few days or even a month or two. But he will get back on his feet. And when he does, I hope he can learn to trust his heart again when the timing with someone is right.
Sky looks up and around, dazed, as if he’s realizing it’s time to leave and search for his family—or rather one member of his family, Andrea. I’m glad she’s here so he can talk to her after this.
“Wait,” I say, fishing in my pocket. I pull out a folded piece of paper and hand it over.
“What’s this?” he asks, opening it.
“One last letter,” I say. “I wrote everything down in case I didn’t find the right words tonight. I wanted to make sure you always knew how grateful I am to have met you. And how much I’m wishing nothing but the best for you.”
“I feel the same,” Sky says. “I do.”
He folds the letter back up and stuffs it into his pocket. Then he draws in a deep breath and gets to his feet.
thirty-eight
WHEN I WAS trying to imagine how this night would play out, I wasn’t sure how I would feel once I broke things off with Sky. My plan was to talk to him early enough in the evening that I’d have time to shift gears and get excited about owning up to my feelings for Jesse. I assumed it would take at least a couple of hours for me to get to this point—maybe longer. But I think it’s a testament to the immensity of what I feel for Jesse that as soon as my conversation with Sky ends, all I can think about is finding him.
