Chapter 10 Lucas
LUCAS
To avoid lugging the past around with me everywhere I go, a fresh start with Christmas seems to be the best solution.
Olivia was all too eager to help me collect bits and baubles from around town.
She has today off from her firefighter duties, but she’s still working a shift at the bookstore.
Kristen was nice enough to let her take a half shift so she could help me out.
When I swung by the bookstore this morning, both women decided I needed to be supervised while shopping.
We have shopped for hours. Olivia has dragged me from one overly decorated store to another.
Up and down both sides of Main Street and beyond.
Olivia and I make detours to the van every few stores, and we don’t stop until the back is completely stuffed.
Though the tree wrapped in the back is taking up a majority of the van’s cargo space.
We’ve stopped for coffee, sandwiches, and roasted sugared almonds.
My credit card is definitely getting a workout.
Dressed in jeans and a green crewneck sweatshirt, I tried to blend in with the holiday shoppers.
And it’s a success. In a sea of red and green, for once, I’m just like everyone else.
I’m trying to enjoy the holiday atmosphere, the hum of music over speakers in each store, the scent of roasted nuts or fresh-baked cookies, and the thrum of people all around us.
And for once, maybe since before the accident, I find myself enjoying the Christmas season.
Almost as much as I enjoyed spending Saturday with Lillian and Poppy.
I want to give them the Christmas that Lillian described, but said she struggles with each year. She’s done her best, but she’s still dreaming of that over-the-top Christmas.
‘Just once,’ she said.
This can be that ‘just once’ moment.
“I think this is overkill,” I state as Olivia and I try to play Tetris with the remaining boxes and bags.
“Maybe the passenger seat?” she peers into the van’s passenger window, “or not.” Her red hair is in a French braid and she’s dressed in jeans and a festive sweater. It’s bright red with black and white trim to mimic a Santa suit.
Who is supplying these holiday sweaters to the townspeople?
She grins as she sees gift-wrapped boxes stacked there.
“Those are the presents from my mom.” I stuff the last bag in the trunk and shut the doors to the back of the van.
“She apparently found ‘the perfect gifts’ while walking around the market stalls set up at the farm. Or she just likes to shop and it was an excuse to buy more gifts and spread more holiday cheer.”
I push my sleeves up, exposing my forearms, and look around at the busy street. We’re parked behind the bakery. My final stop before heading to Lillian’s home.
“I still need to get cookies,” I run my fingers through my hair and sigh. “Yeah, I’m going overboard.”
My muscles start to tense as I mull over the things I could probably return. No need to bombard Lillian and Poppy. Maybe a small tin of cookies and an apology will do.
No, no second guesses.
Just dive in.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you excited about Christmas before,” Olivia murmurs before she adds, “nor have I seen you smile so much in one day.”
“I smile all the time,” I retort as she jabs my chest with her pointer finger.
“Eh,” she shrugs, “you have a fake customer service type smile all the time. Like you’d rather be anywhere else. I see you with kids, though, that’s usually a real smile. But it fades when they leave.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I let my words fade out.
I know exactly what she means.
I’m closed off.
I’ve let my scars become walls over the years, like thick vines twisting over my limbs and encasing my heart.
Time passed and nothing even made a dent.
Apparently, all it took was one weekend with Lillian for the vines to be cut and pulled down.
Some are still there, but each moment spent with Lillian seems to make them easier to pull down.
More proof that I need to just go for it with her. I need to go all in and take a risk.
“I hope you guys end up dating,” Olivia chuckles, “hell, you’ll probably be married by next Christmas at this rate.” She clasps her hands together, “You should totally have a Christmas wedding. Your mom would die!” Olivia squeals.
“Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” I reply, “first step is apologizing.” Though the thought of spending next Christmas together isn’t scary. It’s warm and welcoming, like a steaming cup of hot chocolate.
“I’m sure if you explain everything,” she lightly taps my forearm covered in faded burn scars, “she’ll be more than happy to start over.”
“Let’s hope so,” I grin, and we hug.
We say goodbye, and I drive to Lillian’s house. Hopefully, she’s willing to talk.