Chapter 31 #2
“And even though I’m terrified of disappointing everyone, I’m doing it.
I’m doing it the way she would have wanted, to make her proud, but she had me to help her, and I have no one to help me now.
And I scared off the one person who tried to convince me to put myself first!
Not even all the time! He just wanted me to set boundaries once in a while so I wouldn’t burn out like I am right freaking now!
And now I’m probably going to die alone, and this is the first time in twenty-seven years that the festival won’t have music, as someone so kindly reminded me, and the first time in sixty that Blue Bird Lane won’t be totally lit up, and I’m failing! ”
A tear falls, and a part of my mind is together enough to note with relief that the only people in the room right now are my family.
I’m not sure if Mom and Dad ushered them out when they noticed I was breaking or if it’s been just us for a bit, but I’m relieved all the same.
My shoulders drop with exhaustion, like that outburst took the very last drop of my strength from me.
“But sure, I’ll watch Emma while Jesse goes and gets his dick wet. ”
“Wren, I—” Jesse starts, eyes filled with remorse.
“Stop. It’s fine. It doesn’t…” My voice trails off as I put my head in my hands, a million thoughts and feelings flashing through my mind.
Grief and disappointment and heartbreak and fear all course through me on loop, and my breathing comes in shorter and shorter gasps as I try to keep it together.
I know my brothers are staring at me, shocked and bewildered and unsure of what to do, and that’s not fair to them.
I shouldn’t be doing this right here, right now.
It’s not fair that I’m directing this outburst at them.
I need to get it together. I need to take a few deep breaths in and—
“Wren, honey, come here,” a familiar voice says, and when I lift my head, I see him.
My dad.
The quiet, easygoing man who does what my mother asks without question, who shakes jingle bells outside every kid’s house on Christmas Eve to make them think that Santa is here just to keep the magic alive.
The one who quietly delivers trees and lights to houses that remain unlit, the one who grew up with my grandmother telling him nothing is more special than Christmas spirit and community.
The one who lost his mom nine months ago.
His eyes are warm and knowing, and he opens his arms for me. Like I’ve done a million times in my lifetime, I run into my dad’s arms.
“Dad, I messed up,” I say, sniffling and biting back tears. That single statement encapsulates so, so many things, but I don’t have to expand: it’s my dad. He knows.
“No, you didn’t, sweetie. You were doing what you thought was right, trying to make everyone happy. But you need to learn to say no every once in a while. That would solve a lot of these problems,” he says, rocking me back and forth and rubbing a hand on my back.
“I know,” I whisper.
“And you need to share your problems.”
“I know,” I repeat. A long beat passes, and I think he’s just letting me collect myself before he speaks again, and I realize he was actually weighing his words.
“This isn’t what she would have wanted for you.”
My body goes still at the familiar words, but in my dad’s arms, I don’t feel the same uncalled-for anger I did in my living room when Adam said it. Instead, I feel a terrible mix of guilt and grief washing over me.
I pull back to stare at him. “That’s not fair—” I start anyway, he shakes his head, pulling me in tighter, his voice going lower.
“I miss her, too, honey. So much. And I know this is your way of keeping her alive. And I’m sure she’s up there watching and in awe of all you’ve accomplished by yourself.
But she’s also frustrated that you haven’t asked for the help you need, that you look like you could fall asleep standing.
She was always busy this time of year, but what you don’t realize is that all the years you saw her running this thing, she was retired.
Sure, she was taking on a lot, but she didn’t have a classroom of kids to manage every day.
” I scrunch my nose. “She also said no and delegated more. If she saw how thin you were, wearing yourself down, she’d be worried, Wren. This isn’t what she would have wanted.”
I let a lot of time pass as his words sink in, creating and discarding a million different responses before one slips through the cracks.
“Adam said the same thing,” I whisper around the lump in my throat.
“He’s a smart man,” my dad says simply. “I like him for you.”
“I yelled at him when he said it.”
My dad pulls back to look at me and raises an eyebrow before he laughs, shaking his head.
“Now that? That’s your grandmother through and through. Acting on impulse and then coming down from it and having to put the pieces back together.”
Despite it all, I give him a small, sad smile. With his words, memories of my grandmother’s temper return, the way it would flare hot and she’d snap, but then how she’d come back and talk it out after.
You always have to talk it out, Wren. Life is too short to let a little argument ruin a friendship, she told me once, when I asked why she was being kind to one of her knitting circle friends whom I had watched her fight with the week before.
If it’s too short to let bickering ruin a friendship, it’s undoubtedly too short to ruin what Adam and I have.
I nod then, stepping back and out of my dad’s arms. When I turn, Mom, Madden, and Jesse are all watching me, Mom, wiping a tear from her eyes.
You always have to talk it out.
“Sorry, I snapped at you. I was generally frustrated by people asking favors of me and assuming I’d step in, and you were an easy target.
I’m still annoyed that you didn’t ask, but I get that we’re family, and I have made it clear that I’m always available to watch Emma,” I say to Jesse, then turn to Madden.
“I love you, but you take my kindness for granted, and it’s unfair. ”
“I know, Wren. I’m sorry. I’m a dick,” he says, a genuine apology written on his face.
I nod, then give him a small smile. “You are, but I forgive you.”
He lets out a laugh, then reaches over and pulls me in for a hug. After Madden, Jesse tugs me over to him, and he gives me one as well.
One more person to talk to, but he’s going to have to wait.
But not for that long. I turn to my dad.
“Can you and Mom handle cleanup at the end?” I ask. “Just the basics. I’ll do the big cleanup and breakdown after the holidays, since it can wait. Just any food and trash cans, and whatnot. I know you have so much—”
“I have been waiting for you to ask for my help, Wren, sweetie. My god, you’re stubborn,” my mom says, coming over and brushing a tear from my cheek. “Are you going to talk to him after?”
I nod. “He won’t come today, not after the way I left and then ignored him last night.” My mom raises an eyebrow, but I shake my head, not wanting to get into it. “I can’t fix things right now, but I want to get over there as soon as everything is over.”
Mom nods. “That’s a good plan.”
Before I can say anything, Hallie enters with Emma, and everyone uses it as an opportunity to change the subject, which I am grateful for.
Madden and Jesse return to wrapping and accomplish a surprising amount with the patient guidance of Mom, while I put out fires and complete the finishing touches.
However, the whole time, I repeat my new plan for the night in my head.
I’m going to make it through this festival. I’m going to do it with a smile, and everyone is going to enjoy it because it’s a fabulous event that I put a ton of work into and because it’s just what Holly Ridge does. We come together, and we celebrate the community we’ve created.
And then when it’s over, I’m going to be selfish.
I’m not going to worry about take-down or cleanup. I’m going to trust that it will get handled.
Instead, I’m going to find Adam and tell him I’m head over heels in love with him and hope against all hope he’ll forgive me.
“Okay, so it’s a bit of a different concert tonight, as Mr. Mooney came down with the flu, and despite my many talents and my mother’s disappointment, I’ve never learned to play more than ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ on the piano.
” The room laughs, and it eases me a bit despite the ache that the night at Adam’s piano causes in my chest.
Tonight is not going to be a failure.
And if things go my way, I’ll have a lifetime with Adam to teach me how to play the piano, in case this happens again.