Owen waited until Amarylliswas gone and snapped off the torch. Several cuss words flowed from him before he got control over his wayward mouth. He wasn’t prone to swearing, but he was mad. And hurt. He set the tool aside and stared at the ceiling as if he could see straight through to heaven.
“Okay, God. It’s just you and me. I need a favor. A big one. Okay, I’ll be honest. I need a miracle. A Christmas miracle. That’s what it’s going to take to get Amaryllis to wake up and realize that everything she needs is right here at the Sleigh Bells Inn. She doesn’t need the city to be happy. She’s happy here and doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe she does and doesn’t want to admit it.” That statement felt like an epiphany of some sort, though he didn’t know what to do with it.
He pushed out a sigh and shoved a few tools away. “How do I wake her up? How do I show her that I love her and that her happiness matters to me?”
He’d said the words to her. He probably should have said them sooner, but he was afraid of scaring her off. That strategy had failed, big time. She was running away, and she was too much of a coward to face the fact that her job might be gone. She was as stubborn as she was strong and beautiful, but insecure about her future.
He returned his tools to their proper places and covered the now-cool sculpture. He always kept his works in progress under wraps until they were complete. He shut down the furnace, closed and latched the doors, and went to his suite above the garage.
He wanted to talk sense into Amaryllis but knew better. She had to figure out, on her own, how she felt about him and about living in Snowy Hollow. It wouldn’t be right to push her to stay, no matter how badly he wanted to. He paced the one-bedroom suite looking for answers.
Could he move to the city for her? Change locations like Johnathon and Carrie had done? From the day his family arrived in Snowy Hollow, this small town had been home for him, even when he was serving his country. He didn’t want to leave here, but he’d consider it. For her. For them. If he knew she loved him.
The only thing he knew for sure was that he wasn’t going to provoke any further arguments. He’d been down that road with Kiya. They fought, she died. All couples fought. He knew that, but he wouldn’t lose his temper like he had that day. He’d find a better way to win this argument.
He didn’t go into the inn for lunch.
Guilt plagued him as he waited until Amaryllis was occupied to leave a note that he’d meet her at Town Hall tomorrow to work with Santa’s Elves. Then, tail firmly tucked between his legs, like a scolded dog, he snuck into town to see his mother. His mother was his rock. She’d held him up and helped him through the pain of his accident, and more so when he’d lost Kiya and the baby. She’d be there for him now with her common-sense approach to life.
The short drive seemed to speed by, even as time felt like it was crawling along. Funny how strong emotions distorted your senses. After the accident, days felt like weeks. Only after he started working for Ophelia, and regained a sense of purpose, did time slowly return to normal. Now, it was out of whack again; each second ticked by like an hour.
“Hi, Mom,” he called as he entered the two-bedroom condo they were sharing until he moved into his new place at the inn. As much as they loved each other, they were both adults who needed their own space.
“Owen?” She bustled from the kitchen, an enormous, frilly, bibbed apron covering her jeans and sweater. Her salt and pepper hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. “What brings you here? I thought you were at the inn until after the holidays?” She wiped her hands on the reindeer print apron. “I’m making pies to bring to the inn for Christmas dinner. I know I don’t need to bring anything, but as a guest, it feels wrong to go empty handed.” Even when they were dirt poor, she’d found a way to contribute to the lives of others. A helping hand here, vegetables from their meager garden there. It was where he learned the importance of helping others, of giving a hand up, not a hand out. She was the genesis of his generosity and community spirit.
He toed off his winter boots and hung his jacket in the closet. “Got time for coffee?”
“With you? Always. Come in. Come in.” She hurried him into the kitchen and in seconds had a pot of hazelnut coffee brewing. The nutty scent filled the air with memories of his visits home during his tours. She picked up her rolling pin, set it down, and picked it up again. She jabbed it in his direction like a sword. “What’s up?”
He almost laughed at the look in her eye, except that now, like in high school, the look made him want to confess all his sins. He looked at the cooling pies, the half-rolled dough on the counter, and then at the floor. He tried his best to avoid her stare and sat at the counter where she worked.
“How do you know when you’re in love?” he blurted. Not at all what he’d planned to say.
“Son, you were married once, don’t you know how love feels?” She started rolling the dough just as a timer went off. “Pull those pies from the oven, please, dear.”
He obeyed without comment. Anything to delay this conversation; which was ridiculous because he came all this way to talk to her. The sweet scent of peaches washed over him in a cloud of steam when he opened the oven. Delicious. He couldn’t wait to eat this pie. His mom made the best pies. While it wasn’t dessert, her ground beef and veggie pie was to die for. Her chicken pot pie was even better.
“I don’t think you’re under any illusions that I was in love with Kiya, though I tried to do right by her,” he said at last. “I cared for her, I loved our unborn child, but I don’t think I ever loved her.”
“And you love someone now?” Always with the direct questions, his mother, Ursula Snow, never beat around the bush if a direct attack would suffice.
“Maybe.” He pulled two mugs from the cupboard. One of them was a souvenir from the Sleigh Bells Inn and brought with it a wash of memories of sharing morning coffee with Amaryllis. He loved her, even if she infuriated him at the moment, and he couldn’t wait to share his mornings with her again. He just wondered if love was going to be enough.
“It’s a yes or no question, dear. If you don’t know, you don’t love Rill.” She used a cookie cutter to cut pine tree shapes from the dough she’d rolled and started placing them in a spiral pattern on top of a strawberry-rhubarb pie waiting for the oven.
“How did you know I was talking about Amaryllis?” Not much got past his mother. Ever. Not now, not in the past, and probably not in the future.
“It’s blatantly obvious to me, probably to everyone. Even Ophelia knew.”
“Knew?”
“Back in high school. You dated virtually every girl in school. Except Rill. You focused on the girls with weaker family support or super busy parents. Not having to worry about the girl’s family’s opinion was easier for you, I guess. Though you did date a few girls totally on the sly. Except Rill. You never mentioned her. But you did watch her.” She fluted the edges of the pie. “Don’t make that face, Owen. I might have been busy working too many jobs trying to keep us afloat after your father took off. I might have missed your worst offenses, but I usually heard about them. The two things I never doubted were that you would turn out fine and that you had a thing for Rill.”
“How?”Did his mother ever miss anything?
“Oh, my silly boy. You followed her with your eyes. You were unfailingly polite to her, yet you flirted with every woman from fourteen to eighty-four. It was a glorious day when you outgrew that phase.” She chuckled. “And, I overheard you telling one of your friends that there was no sense in asking Amaryllis to the dance because she was too good for you. You were wrong by the way. She isn’t too good for you. I’m not certain she isgood enoughfor you.”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous, Mom. She’s more than good enough for me. She’s smart, pretty, kind, generous. She makes me laugh. She makes me feel...” he struggled for the right word, “...complete. She makes me feel whole.”
