Chapter 28
Thank goodness for Kirby, who darts around Jasmine and catches Mom before she hits the ground. A second later the drama’s over, my parents and Amelia thanking Kirby profusely.
“These two here have given me lightning-fast reflexes,” he jokes, pointing at Jasmine and Jonah, who now run tight circles around him, caught up in their own game.
People nearby have begun clapping, and Mom holds up Kirby’s hand and the two give a bow—as though the entire thing was part of a rehearsed act.
I can’t stop shaking. Adrenaline pumps through me, and my hands are still clenched in fists.
Liam, standing directly in front of me on the floor, catches my eye. You okay? he mouths. Relaxing my hands, I nod my response, then repeat it in my head: Mom’s okay. I’m okay. I force a smile as my parents make their way onstage, Dad a half step behind Mom this time.
We share a long hug before I join Amelia stage left, where we watch them open the gift (a new clinic sign, made of laser-cut bronze) and give an impromptu speech to the receptive, appreciative audience.
“That was too close. So glad there was no broken ankle this time,” I whisper to Amelia, as Dad wraps up the thank-you speech. I’m still wobbly from the adrenaline crash, but grateful Kirby was in the right place at the right moment.
“What do you mean, this time ?” Amelia asks, also whispering.
Shoot. I scramble to cover my misstep. “Nothing. Just that I’m glad she didn’t hurt herself.”
“But you specified a broken ankle… and this time . Like it has happened before.” Amelia likes clarity—it’s the teacher in her. “When did Mom break her ankle?”
She frowns, as though trying to recall a story she’s forgotten.
“Never, I don’t think,” I reply, still whispering. “Broken ankles are just common injuries. From falls, stairs or otherwise.”
I take a deep breath, glance at Amelia to see if this is mollifying her. “She’s lucky Kirby was there.”
Amelia nods. “Look at them, Libby. They’re so happy.” Emotion makes her voice crack. “This hasn’t been the easiest year for them,” she adds, more softly.
I stare at my sister. “How so?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it. We can talk later.”
I want to push, but then our parents finish speaking and the crowd erupts. Beaming, Mom and Dad hold the sign up, waiting for the applause to ebb.
After the anniversary surprise, it’s chili time, and Beckett’s family wins the golden kidney bean trophy.
Soon, Christmas carol karaoke is in full swing, as Miss Betty and Mr. Cutler sing “Jingle Bell Rock” as a duet (clearly Liam didn’t inherit his granddad’s lovely singing voice).
On the stage, kids take turns sitting on Santa’s knee while parents and grandparents snap photographs.
I’m nursing my mulled wine—a heady concoction made of zesty orange, cinnamon, cloves, and a deep burgundy red—while I take it all in. Why was I so eager to leave this?
In the emergency room I see much heartbreak and despair, as well as plenty of lonely, isolated people.
It’s the opposite here in Harmony Hills.
Sure, there’s some gossip—when you live in a tight-knit community, there’s a sense that all problems are shared, and all joys are celebrated together—but people show up for one another.
It’s a rare thing, and I’m only now realizing the power of it.
“For your sweet tooth,” Dad says, appearing beside me. He holds out a cellophane-wrapped candy cane.
“Thanks, Dad.” I take the candy cane—noting it’s cinnamon-flavoured. I think about Mary Piggins, which makes me think about Liam, and I smile, a warm flush moving through me that inwardly I blame on the wine.
“That’s nice to see,” he says, noticing the smile. “You were looking a little forlorn, over here by yourself. Everything okay, honey?”
Not really. “Everything’s great.”
How I wish I could confide in my dad, who I know would tell me he believes every wild detail of my story. Even if he had doubts, he would be steady with his support, the way the best dads are.
“Mom looks like she’s in her element.” She’s currently accepting a gift bag from Rosalie Everhart, adding it to the others already in hand.
“After it took us thirty minutes to move two feet, I told her I needed a walkabout,” Dad says, chuckling. “You know your mom—the epitome of a social butterfly. But also very beloved by everyone.”
I nod, watching how Mom’s face lights up every time someone comes over to say “hello.” She always shakes hands, or returns a hug, and has generous and genuine smiles for all.
“Looks like an early Christmas for you two,” I say, pointing to the bags in Dad’s hands that have piles of tissue paper poking out the tops, and curly-cue ribbons.
“Everyone outdid themselves, and many are edible, too! A banana-chocolate-chip loaf, some homemade granola, Christmas cakes, a bag of oranges—the fancy kind, with the stems and leaves still attached,” Dad says, his tone indicating he’s impressed.
“A couple of casseroles, for the freezer, that Amelia already put in the car.”
“Wow. You guys won’t need to cook for a month,” I reply. “That’s really nice of everyone.”
Dad smiles. “That’s Harmony Hills for you, Libby.”
“It sure is,” I murmur, again seeing my hometown through a different filter. I unwrap the candy cane and pop a piece in my mouth. It’s spicy and sweet enough that my teeth ache.
“So where were you a minute ago?” Dad asks. “You seemed lost in thought.”
I suck on the candy cane, taking a moment. “I was thinking about how nice it is to be home. It’s been years since I came to a chili night.”
“And we have loved having you home, honey. Both of us, and I know Amelia really appreciated your arriving earlier than expected. The two of you, pulling off this surprise…” Dad’s voice catches. I reach out and rub his arm, and he smiles at me. “It means the world to your mom and me, Libby.”
“I’m glad to be here, Dad.”
“I’m not anxious for you to leave, but when do you expect you have to head back to the city?” he asks. Another urge to confide in my dad grips me. Tell him everything, Libby.
Yet, I can’t form the words. “Not sure yet. Sorting a few things out.”
But this may be the opportunity I’ve been looking for. To get more information about the clinic, and what’s really going on. “I may stick around a bit longer. A few more days, at least.”
“Oh?” Dad’s eyebrows go up. “What about your trip with Austin?”
“It’s no big deal if I can’t go.” Austin most certainly would not agree. “He has some work stuff to handle. I was just tagging along for a dose of sunshine.”
I never told my family the trip was an early Christmas gift from Austin, and I don’t mention it now. Though I wonder, Why not? It seems like the sort of thing you’d be excited to tell everyone—that your boyfriend is whisking you to sunny L.A. for a magical Christmas holiday.
“But enough about me. How is everything with you and Mom?” I ask, seizing my chance. “With the clinic? Twenty-five years… that’s really something.”
The briefest of pauses, and his lips press together. But then a second later I wonder if I imagined the hesitation, because he’s smiling again.
“Twenty-five years. Amazing, isn’t it?” Then he glances at his watch. “Oh, look at that. Almost gingerbread house time. Let’s go extricate your mom from her loyal fans.”
I follow him, watching his steady stride.
The candy cane melts on my tongue and my mind lingers on that brief pause in his answer, on the momentary shadow that crossed his face.
There’s something unspoken here—something I can’t put my finger on.
But if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that a secret doesn’t last long in Harmony Hills.
I just need to stick around long enough to figure out what it is.