Chapter 27
Sometimes intelligence wasn’t the only indicator of success. Although, Terry didn’t want a doctor who didn’t know what they were doing, and she supposed a few of those graduated as well, like in any field. It was just that doctors could be involved in life-and-death situations.
“All right, how’s that?” Judd said, putting his hands on his hips and standing back so that he was beside her.
She didn’t move over, and his elbow just barely missed her.
“You did a great job. They’re so evenly placed.”
“I told you I had drill sergeant training in putting Christmas lights up, so they ought to be pretty good.”
“Did your mom hate Christmas?”
“She loved it. She decorated everything very tastefully, just so you know,” he said, putting a hand out. “But everything. And usually she started at the end of October. And everything was up until the end of January.”
“It sounds like she really did love it.”
“I think she just loved...elegance. Or style or something. She didn’t put a ton of things out, but they were all very...coordinated, I guess.”
“She sounds like a complicated woman,” Terry finally said. She wasn’t quite sure how Judd actually felt about her.
“Yeah. I think she is. And I think it’s hard for her to show her emotions. But she’s very demanding too, which makes that even harder. If she showed a lot of love but demanded a high standard, I’d probably be a completely different person.”
“I think I’d be very different. A child needs to be shown love.” She said that very firmly and emphatically. She believed that with all her heart and was struck again at how blessed she was to grow up in the home that she had. There was never a dearth of love, whether her dad was home or not. Her mom more than made up for everything, laughing and having a good time, and making sure that all of her children were hugged and cared for to the best of her ability.
“All right, I guess we start the bulbs now,” he said, pulling the box out that they had set aside earlier and opening it up. “My mom always said to put the big ones on the bottom and the little ones on the top.”
“Interesting. I would have thought you should scatter them evenly all over the tree to make it look uniform.”
“I don’t know where she got that idea, but she was insistent upon it.”
She figured he could probably tell her times where he had decorated something and his mom had completely redone it.
Instead, he got a bulb, which still had the hook attached, and looked at the tree. “Are you sure you don’t care?”
“She marked you. You’re scared you’re going to put it in the wrong place.”
“Maybe?”
“How about we just throw them on. See if the hooks hold them.”
He gasped, but it was fake and exaggerated. “We might break something.”
“And that was another fear?”
“Exactly. Everything was expensive, ordered from Europe or antique. Irreplaceable. I broke a couple of those and learned very quickly to be extremely, extraordinarily careful.”
“I’m surprised she allowed you to touch them at all.”
“She didn’t really do it herself. Usually the housekeeper did it, or she even hired people, but there were a few years where she tried to get me to do it. Obviously I still have nightmares about it.”
“I don’t think that’s how decorating is supposed to go at all.” He was coming back for another ball, and she touched his arm, looking up at his face. Wishing that they could make new memories, happy memories. The kind of memories she wanted him to have. “Christmas must be terrible for you?”
He stopped when she touched him, and now he looked down at her with a little smile on his face.
“No. I told you. You can make it what you want to make it. God gave us the power to control our thoughts. And I decided I was going to do that. Now, I’m not saying it was easy, and I’m not saying that I don’t have flashbacks, and obviously I still have those memories, since we spent the last hour talking about them, but...”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you talk about stuff that made you unhappy.”
“No. I didn’t mean that at all. I just know that I’m not over it. Completely. Maybe I never will be. You know? This whole life is a struggle. And our sin especially, but our actions and our attitudes affect other people, possibly for the rest of their lives. Maybe my mom didn’t realize when she was being controlling and grumpy and unhappy, that it was going to affect me.”
“And your memories of Christmas.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah.”
“So you’re making new ones.”
“That’s right. I don’t allow myself the bad thoughts, don’t think about the bad memories, don’t dwell on them. I make my life what I want it to be.”
If she were doing that, she would have more people in it. But he had said he was an introvert. And she could understand that a little bit. By the time she got home from her clinic, she was ready to relax and unwind, although she never minded doing that with him.
She squeezed his arm, and she didn’t see him move, but suddenly his hand was lying on top of hers.
“This is a new memory. A good one.” He smiled, looking down at her.
His arm under her hand, his hand on top of hers, and his whole face beaming down at her. It was tempting to step closer.
“It’s a good one for me too,” she said honestly.
“Jingle Bells” had been playing, but it morphed into a rendition of “O Holy Night,” and the small beat of silence had them breaking apart and grabbing more bulbs.
It took another hour, but they finally had everything put on perfectly, including the unopened package of icicles that had been tucked away in his box.
“My mother hated these.”
“Why? They’re my favorite decoration.”
“Mine too. They just shimmer and sparkle and make everything look beautiful, but she hated them because they constantly fell off the tree and got knocked around everywhere.”
“I see. Because that’s true. Seems like every time you walk by the tree, you get at least twenty attached to you, and there’s always some on the floor.”
“She would pick them up in July and complain that they were there and say she was never putting any on her trees again.”
“When she packed the Christmas decorations away, she wanted them to stay away?”
“Exactly. I’m being kind of hard on her. Our house always looked beautiful. It was like a postcard. And I did enjoy looking at it. I mean, I’m a guy, so it wasn’t like I sat around admiring it, but it was peaceful and pretty and garnered a lot of compliments from everyone who saw it.”
“Ours always looked like six little kids had put the decorations up, which six little kids had put decorations up, so no wonder.”
“Bet that was fun.”
“It was.”
Her hot chocolate was cold, but the air felt warm and cozy. They put the extra boxes away and then stood back and admired their handiwork.
“I think it looks gorgeous,” she said, realizing that it had been years since she had had a full-size tree up in her living room like this.
“I agree. It could beat any one of my mom’s,” he said.
He put a hand around her, laying it on her shoulder which felt natural, and she leaned into him without thinking. With the snow falling outside, and the cozy heat of the house, and the pretty decorations, and the good companionship, she felt like she was glowing.
“I’ll decorate a tree with you anytime. Not because you’re such a great decorator, although you are,” he squeezed her shoulder when she started to straighten, because she was going to call him on that one, “but because you’re good company.”
“So are you. And that’s pretty admirable. I had a great example in my mom and an even better example, if possible, in my dad. And all I have to do is think about what they would do, and I have that laid out for me. You know? Like I can do the right thing, be the kind of person I want to be, when I think about how they did things. You don’t have that.”
“Maybe I just had to think about things a little harder, to decide what I wanted to be and do.”
“You have. And you’ve done an admirable job.” She looked up at him, smiling, and kind of turned to face him. His hand slipped off her shoulder and somehow ended up in her hair.
Her hand touched his waist, and she took that step that she had been longing to take.
Their eyes met and held, and she felt like she was standing on sunshine and holding her breath at the same time.
He leaned down a little, and she stretched up, and she was pretty sure it was all her when their lips touched.
He seemed a little surprised, and she almost pulled back, but his hand moved again, warm and solid around the back of her neck, as his other hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her even closer.
He tasted like hot chocolate and Christmas, and her thoughts of the little boy who had spent lonely days with the mother who was never satisfied evaporated as she pressed closer, never wanting that feeling to end.
And then, just as quickly as it happened, one of them pulled back, she wasn’t sure which one, and they stared at each other. And she realized what she’d done.
What had she done? She hadn’t meant to kiss him. How was this going to change everything? They had such a great thing going on, they were sharing a duplex, enjoying each other’s company, treating the other with respect and kindness, and now... Did she want this? Did she really want to start a relationship with this man? Because that was what kissing was to her. It wasn’t just a one and done. She didn’t think he was the kind of man who acted like that, either, but maybe he was. And it was going to be very awkward for her because she wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
“Good night,” she said quickly and hurried from the room.
She didn’t know why she was running away. That wasn’t in her personality at all. She was a commanding personality, outgoing and friendly, facing things head-on, she couldn’t have gotten to where she was if she didn’t. But she didn’t stop even when he called her name.
She was halfway up the steps when he called it again.
“Terry!”
She didn’t stop until she was at the top, and then, with her hand on the banister, her head down, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not!” he said from the bottom of the stairs. “It was the best night of my life, and you made it better.”
“Good night,” she called, hurrying to the door, opening it quickly, and stepping in. She couldn’t get it shut fast enough behind her, and she leaned against it.
What had she done?
She was still wondering the same thing four hours later as she lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
What had she been thinking?
She didn’t do anything without thinking about it first, planning it, working toward it. She had everything thought out, and she worked according to her goals and the things she wanted to accomplish. She didn’t just go around kissing random men.
She wasn’t the kind of woman who kissed a guy and it meant nothing. It had meant everything to her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted it to. Did she really want to start a relationship with Judd? And how did he feel about it? He had said that it was the best night of his life, but what did he think they were going to do now? Were they just going to be friends who kissed?
She shuddered at the thought. That wasn’t who she was, and it wasn’t who she wanted to be.
What were they going to do? How were they going to act? The thought made her cold.
A noise made her freeze.
It happened again. The creaking of the steps.
She noticed that the two middle steps creaked no matter how you went up or down them.
So that must be Judd, going downstairs.
Immediately she thought about the Secret Saint and how she hadn’t pressed him for answers.
She had wanted to, but she hadn’t been sure she wanted to know. Mostly because... There was a reason he was trying to keep things secret. The few people that she’d talked to who had actually been in contact with someone during the Secret Saint gift giving had said that they couldn’t say.
Whoever it was was trying to keep it pretty quiet. And he’d been successful.
She slipped out of bed, still wide awake, still thinking that she might have made a big mistake, and padded over to the window, standing at the side and looking out.
Sure enough, shortly she heard the front door creaking just a bit. If she hadn’t heard it a million times, she might not even notice what it was. And sometimes at night, she had music playing. But she didn’t this evening. She’d left her speaker downstairs.
After she waited a few more minutes, Judd came into sight, hurrying down the sidewalk.
She hadn’t asked him what he was doing this evening, but then she often didn’t. And just assumed that he was going to bed and staying there. Sometimes she met him in the morning, but he had told her when she first moved in that he had odd hours, and she never really thought a whole lot about it. He’d mentioned that the courthouse needed to be cleaned overnight when there was no one there, and he had a key to get in.
She wished she would have pressed him about his plans for the night. Were there other jobs he did in the middle of the night?
She looked at the time, one o’clock in the morning. Did he clean the courthouse at this hour?
She went back to bed, but she didn’t go to sleep easily.