A Saltwater Christmas (The Southern Isles #1)

Chapter Twelve

“T hey brought cookies!” Sam said, pulling Tulip into his side. “Tulip made ’em.”

“Chocolate chip.” She snuggled happily into the spot that appeared to be quickly becoming her most treasured place.

Allie tried to pull herself together and act normal. She had never been a fan of unannounced visits, and it felt like her neighbors were experts in it. “My favorite.”

“I’m so happy y’all are okay. Joey said he’s been trying to reach you, Allie, but you haven’t responded at all.”

“I left my phone at work.”

“Oh.” Jessa’s sweet smile was suddenly back. “Well, then use my phone. That man is beside himself with worry.”

The last thing Allie wanted to do was call Joey when just moments before she’d been locked in a passionate kiss with Sam. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to him on Monday.”

Jessa shook her head. “The man will die of worry before then.” She laughed. “You might as well be committing a murder.”

Allie was confused. Why would Joey even care? Was he that desperate for her to apologize to him?

She leaned in and whispered, “He said y’all almost had a little thing.”

From the look on Sam’s face, he’d heard every word.

“What we had was too much wine. Well, I did, anyway.” The heat of embarrassment creeping up her face was painfully familiar. “Can you just tell him that you saw me and that I am truly sorry? I’ll apologize again when I see him at work.”

Jessa squinted at her.

“Oh, and can I hitch a ride in on Monday?” Allie added, desperate to change the subject. “My car’s there too.”

Jessa frowned at her. “I’m trying to tell you that Joey likes you, ya dumbhead.”

Dumbhead?

“And of course you can have a ride.”

Allie’s heart dropped to her stomach as she whispered to Sam, “Excuse us.” She motioned for Jessa to follow her into her bedroom, then shut the door, grateful for the tiny bit of diffused light coming in from the window. “What do you mean, he likes me?”

“Listen, he wouldn’t have told me except for that he was worried because you haven’t been responding to your texts or calls. He’s afraid he messed up.”

“He didn’t mess up—I did.” And now, thanks to Jessa’s visit, Sam probably thought she was the hook-up queen of Goose Island. “I feel like I just ran into a wall,” Allie said, sitting on the bed. “My head hurts.”

“Oh, honey.” Jessa patted her on the shoulder. “Sometimes walls are put there for us to lean on.”

It was such a compassionate thing to say, so spot-on, that combined with all of the other crazy emotions she’d experienced in the past twenty-four hours, Allie was afraid she’d either burst into tears or laugh like a maniac. “I can’t talk to Joey right now, Jessa. I just can’t.”

Jessa must have some of whatever it was that Dottie possessed, because she was really good at sussing out situations quickly. “I’ll handle it, Allie. Don’t worry.”

Allie squeezed the hand on her shoulder. She might be making a friend on the island after all.

“You know,” Jessa said, “my little sister has a crush on your roommate.”

“I think even the dog knows that.” Allie laughed, grateful for the change of subject. And in that moment she knew—she was developing a crush on Sam too. “Let’s go back out before they wonder about us.” The hallway was so narrow, the girls walked shoulder to shoulder. “So, do y’all have power?” Allie asked, thinking about the plate of warm cookies and the fact that she was starving.

“Naw, but the stove is gas, so Mama and Tootie have been at it, baking up everything in the pantry. Then Uncle Fred and Whiskey came over, and I tell you what, I was glad that Toots demanded to come here in the rain because between the dog terrorizing Mama’s cats and Fred bringing the tequila, it’s louder than an SEC game over there.”

Dottie and Fred drinking tequila? The thought of Santa and the psychic drunker than skunks made Allie laugh. “Y’all are welcome to stay for some chicken soup,” she said. “We just cooked it over the coals.”

“Hey, Toots!” Jessa said. “These campers just invited us to stay for soup.”

Tulip was sitting as close as possible to Sam on the couch. She gave a satisfied little nod before snuggling even closer. Sam looked both honored and mildly uncomfortable.

“We’d love to,” Jessa said.

No sooner had they sat at the table with their steaming bowls than the front door sounded like it was under attack by a monster-sized woodpecker. The knocks were loud and fast. Cuppie was at the door and barking before Sam had a chance to get up from the table.

“It’s got to be Mama,” Jessa said with a sigh.

“Is she gonna make us come home?” Tulip looked distressed.

As soon as Sam twisted open the lock, the door opened and Dottie and Fred entered like stampeding elephants.

“There y’all are!” Dottie declared, blowing past Sam to the kitchen with Cuppie on her heels. “It’s Saturday night, and I am not spending it alone with my brother.” A loud roll of thunder emphasized her words.

Fred ambled in behind her, taking his time. The minute he stepped into the family room, he noticed Sam’s little red stocking. “Where’s yours?” he asked Allie.

Allie blew it off with a shrug, so Sam clarified for her. “She’s taking a little break from Christmas traditions.”

Fred chewed on his ever-present toothpick as he looked around the room. “You put up that tree?” he asked Sam.

“Yessir.”

“Well done, soldier.”

It was clear from Sam’s face that soldier was meaningful to him. It was a term of respect.

“Would y’all like some soup?” Allie offered.

“Hell yeah.” Dottie was already seated at the table, and Fred pulled up the last chair next to her.

Tulip was almost done slurping her soup by the time Allie served Dottie and Fred. “Uncle Fred,” Tulip said, “did you know that if you say the word colorful , it looks like you’re saying I love you?”

“ Olive juice works for that too,” Fred said, blowing on the steaming broth.

Tulip made a show of turning to Sam and mouthing, “Olive juice.”

“Colorful,” Sam mouthed back as Tulip giggled.

“How ya feelin’, darlin’?” Dottie asked Allie.

“Like an idiot.”

“I don’t see an idiot.” Dottie stared at Allie like she could see straight through her. “But you’re giving too much power to negative thoughts. You know, a rising tide lifts all the goats.” She reached across the table to touch Allie’s hand. “Work on your thoughts, lift them up, and you can still get what you want.” The whole table was listening. “And what might that be, the thing that you want?”

“Alright, now, Dot. Let the girl be,” Fred interjected with a piece of noodle stuck in his beard.

“I don’t know.” Allie shrugged. “My dad back?”

Dottie shook her head. “Dig deeper.”

“Control over my life?”

“And…”

“A future that doesn’t include me being alone?” She felt the weight of Sam’s eyes heavy on her face. “Or maybe I just need to accept that my life will never be happy again.”

“No maybes,” Dottie said. “Maybes ain’t of no use at all.”

That was not the response Allie expected, and frankly, she was tired of being on display while she tried to come up with an answer. “You know what? After my dad died, not only did my mother move away from my childhood home, but she threw away everything. I mean, everything . My trophies, my high school yearbooks, even the teddy bear she sewed for me from scraps when I was a baby. So, I’ll ask you. How would that make you feel? Secure? Happy? Like you have a strong family to fall back on? Anyway, she has a boyfriend now, so she doesn’t need me.”

Dottie just smiled like she was freaking Zen Buddha and had all of the answers. “So, what you want is…”

“To be left alone.” Allie scooted out her chair and stood. “I don’t mean to be rude. Please excuse me.” She walked out of the room having never taken even one bite of soup.

“Dang it, Dot. As soon as you get to drinkin’ you start pecking away at people,” she heard Fred say.

And then “I’ll talk to her” from Jessa before Allie shut and locked her bedroom door.

Thankfully, someone must have decided to give her some time. No one came knocking. But now, she was stuck in her room ashamed of behaving like a spoiled child, and her only warm blanket was in the family room in the shape of a ball and covered with dog fur and ash. Her bed had a top sheet, but there was nothing else to cuddle up in. It was like a metaphor for her life. She was alone and freezing.

Through the thin walls, she heard Tulip start to sing a Christmas carol. She strained to listen. It was “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” but Tulip must’ve only known the chorus, because she sang that portion three times in a row. Then the whole group sang “Jingle Bells,” and Allie covered her head with her pillow.

But it was when Sam started in with an old Elvis Christmas classic that Allie’s stomach turned sour. Panic attacks always happened that way. First with a déjà vu, and in this case, it was her father doing his yearly Elvis impression. “Blue Christmas” was his signature Christmas song and the only one within his very limited vocal range. It was one of her favorite parts about Christmas—her dad all smiles and silly Elvis moves.

Nausea always hit next with a panic attack, then her arms went numb, her heart raced, her brain went foggy, and darkness filled her soul with a powerful dread that something horrible was about to happen. Something she couldn’t wrap her mind around, no matter how hard she tried. With each attack, she feared she might not survive. But she’d had enough of them now to know that they wouldn’t kill her. The attack would pass, and she’d be herself again. The trick was to let it happen, ride it out, and try not to think too much until the world righted itself again.