26. Chapter Twenty-Five #2
As we stepped inside, the conversation hushed. Every head turned toward us.
Caroline, never one to miss a moment, broke the silence with a grin. “I found them,” she announced proudly. “They were kissing on the porch.”
Caroline’s announcement earned a few laughs. Some were genuine. Others felt hesitant—like laughing might be mistaken for approval. And I was pretty sure not everyone was ready to hand that over just yet.
No matter. Brady leaned in and kissed me on the lips, deliberate and unapologetic. “Guilty as charged,” he said with a grin.
“How touching,” Benjamin teased. “Now, get in here so we can eat.”
That earned a few more chuckles, and the tension in the room eased just a notch.
I snuck a glance at Brady’s momma. She sat exactly where she had last time—rigid, composed, trying too hard to be unreadable. But I saw it. The cracks.
Even Beau reached over and squeezed her hand, like he was silently begging her to behave.
I prayed she could hold it together. I didn’t need her kind of crazy on Christmas. Or ever.
Brady and I were seated together near his daddy, across from Benjamin and Kendra. It felt strategic—like the room had been divided into camps.
There was a neutral zone in the middle, where the teenage nieces and nephews sat. From what Brady and Kendra had told me, the younger generation was leaning in my favor. Apparently, being a little famous helped. And the girls approved of my fashion sense.
I could work with that.
Dinner was already on the table, and it smelled divine. Prime rib, herb-roasted potatoes, warm rolls, crisp salads, and fruit trays arranged like edible art. It looked like something out of a magazine—elegant, abundant, and inviting.
Brady guided me to my seat—right next to his daddy. I didn’t bother glancing at his momma to see what she made of it. No doubt she loathed it.
Once everyone settled, Mr. Jackson bowed his head and blessed the food. His voice was strained, breath catching in places. He didn’t sound well at all. But the prayer was sweet—gentle and heartfelt.
He thanked God for his children, his grandchildren . . . and for new additions to the family.
Brady reached over and touched my hand when his daddy said that. I felt the warmth of it. The weight. And I was touched. But also confused. All my life, I’d believed this man hated me. And to be honest, I’d returned the favor. He’d kept me from Brady. He’d broken my aunt’s heart.
And yet . . . I found myself wanting to know him. To understand him.
He was going to be my father-in-law, after all.
But the guilt crept in. Was I betraying Aunt Lu by feeling this way about Isaac Jackson? What if he told me something awful—something that made the past even harder to swallow? Not that cheating wasn’t awful enough.
Still, it was clear he was trying. Just like Aunt Lu.
Maybe that meant I should try, too.
Brady had said it best: Let the past be the past.
But I couldn’t let go—not yet. Not until I got answers. Not until I knew the truth—for Aunt Lu’s sake.
Maybe then, I could make space in my heart for Isaac Jackson.
When the blessing ended, Isaac looked out over his family as they began filling their plates. His eyes were misted—reflective even.
Then, without warning, he placed his hand over mine where it rested on the table.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said quietly.
I sat stunned. Not just because Mr. Jackson had touched me—but because it didn’t repulse me. In fact, it felt comforting.
“Merry Christmas,” I stuttered, unsure what else to say. It wasn’t like I could ask him about Aunt Lu right there at the dinner table.
He patted my hand gently. “I think it will be.”
Maybe he was right.
Dinner, oddly enough, went well. Sure, Mrs. Jackson wrinkled her nose at me more than once, and Brady’s older brothers and their wives weren’t exactly lining up to chat. But at least no one threw a roll at my head. Not that they would—they were far too proper for that.
Kendra, bless her, passed me a plate of sliced apples and whispered, “One bite and all your dreams will come true.” Just like the evil queen in Snow White.
I laughed, grateful for the levity. And for Kendra.
With each minute that passed without incident, Brady and I exchanged quiet grins—relieved, almost giddy. The knot in my chest loosened, and I even found the courage to speak to Mr. Jackson.
I figured I should start with something polite before I went in for the kill, so to speak.
“Mr. Jackson,” I said softly.
He turned to me, eyes kind. “Please, call me Isaac.”
“Okay,” I replied, nerves fluttering. “Isaac.”
“ Isaac! ” Mrs. Jackson shrieked, cutting through the moment like a blade. “I think it’s time you played the piano for everyone.”
Oh, that was deliberate. Why didn’t she want me talking to her husband?
Isaac didn’t respond. He simply rose—slowly, painfully—gripping his cane like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to him as he made his way to the gleaming grand piano.
I watched, heart tight. The walk looked exhausting.
I worried he wouldn’t have any strength left to play.
But he managed to seat himself on the bench and after a few beats, he started a beautiful medley of favorite Christmas carols from “Silent Night” to “The First Noel.” I wasn’t sure who had done the arrangement, but it was perfection, and Isaac played it from memory.
During the song, I kept sneaking glances at Brady.
The love he had for his daddy shone in his eyes, but there was worry in them too.
It was clear that his father wasn’t well.
Yet, he played masterfully and with such emotion.
Dang man, he was going to make me like him.
He was making me see why my aunt fell in love with him.
He was passionate and my aunt was all about passion.
Not the romantic kind. Just finding your passion and running with it.
Isaac finished his medley, and everyone in the room clapped, including me.
Just when I thought the night couldn’t be any more surprising. Isaac set his sights on me. “Join me, Ellie,” he said clearer than I’d heard him speak all night.
Say what? In front of everyone?
Surely, this was going to send Mrs. Jackson over the edge.
I peeked at her at the far end of the table, and even from a distance, I could see she was seconds away from a nuclear meltdown.
She was gripping Beau’s hand like a vice, and he was whispering something to her. Hopefully not the nuclear launch codes.
Brady beamed at me, like he’d expected this. Did he know and not give me a heads up. “Go on, darlin’,” Brady encouraged.
“Yay, Miss Ellie,” Caroline cheered me on. “She helped me play the piano once,” she informed everyone. “She’s so good.”
How could I refuse after that ringing endorsement?
I stood and tiptoed over to the piano, heart pounding, limbs trembling.
It didn’t help that Beau, Booker, and their wives were watching me like judges at a recital—eyes daring me to impress them.
And Mrs. Jackson’s eyes were so narrowed at me now they were just slits.
She was going to launch an attack. I just knew it.
Then, in a voice meant only for me as soon as I sat down, Mr. Jackson whispered, “If memory serves me right, this was Luanne’s favorite Christmas song.” He placed an arrangement of “O Holy Night” in front of me.
My breath caught.
He said her name. Luanne.
And not just said it—he spoke it with the same quiet passion he’d poured into every note of his medley.
What did this mean?
Was this the beginning of the answers I’d been searching for?
“It is,” I whispered, barely believing it myself.
All of this gave me the courage to play and sing like I never had before. The nerves gave way to hope. And before I knew it the song was over. But no one clapped. Not even Brady. For a moment I felt sick, but then I looked around the room and everyone seemed in awe, stunned even.
“I never thought I would say this, but you’re even better than your aunt,” Isaac rasped. And not exactly quietly. That probably didn’t land well with Mrs. Jackson, but I didn’t get the chance to look at her.
Brady was walking my way, smiling the smile I loved the most. He approached the bench and kneeled in front of me, eyes shining full of adoration.
Then it clicked. He was kneeling in front of me. In front of his entire family.
“Daddy, will you please hand me the gift next to you?”
What gift? I hadn’t noticed one.
It took some effort, but Isaac reached down and handed the pretty silver-wrapped box with a meticulous gold bow on it to his son.
Brady took the box before handing it to me. Honestly, I was little disappointed in its size. It was too big to be a ring box.
He turned to his family, who were all as confused as I was. “I hope you don’t mind, but I want Ellie to open the first gift tonight,” he announced.
Caroline did mind and obviously wanted to open the first gift of the night. “Aww man,” she said, but she quickly recovered. “I hope it’s a puppy.”
Everyone laughed, except her dear sweet grandma. I dared a glance at her. Clearly, she was ready to hit the last button on the launch code.
Brady crushed Caroline’s dreams. “It’s not a puppy, darlin’.”
He faced me, his expression tender and full of meaning. “It’s actually something I’ve been waiting to use for ten long years.”
He definitely had my curiosity piqued.
“Ellie, will you please open it now?”
I carefully began to undo the wrapping paper. I tried not to rip the thick silver paper, but Brady became impatient. “Just tear it off, darlin’.”
I smiled and gave in, tearing the paper off in one swift motion. Inside was a simple white rectangular box.
I opened the lid eagerly, and Brady leaned in to peek—despite knowing exactly what was inside. That made me smile even more.
I pulled back the tissue paper, and my breath caught. My eyes stung with tears. There it was. The gift I’d thrown at him ten years ago. Back when my heart was young and broken and convinced it would never mend.
But now . . . Now, it felt like that very gift was stitching it all back together.
“I can’t believe you kept it all these years,” I whispered, running my finger over the license plate cover. House Divided. Half Auburn. Half Alabama.
When I was seventeen, I thought it would tell him I’d always be his. It seemed silly now. But it came from my heart.
Brady smiled and reached into the box. “Well,” he said, “I added a little something to it.”
He lifted the plate cover, and, tied to it with a crimson ribbon was a diamond ring—simple, stunning, and sparkling.
I placed my right hand over my mouth, overwhelmed. I felt like I might burst.
Brady gently untied the ribbon and took my left hand in his.
“I know you think I forgot this minor detail,” he said with a grin.
Brady slipped the ring onto my finger, and it fit perfectly—like it had always belonged there. “Ella Lu Eaton,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “I’ve loved you for half my life, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. Please say that you’ll be my—”
“ Brady James Jackson! ” his mother shrieked, slicing through the best moment of my life like shattered glass.
Brady’s face flushed blood red. He stood, turning to face her. Oddly, so did his father.
“ Enough, Elizabeth! ” Isaac said, voice strained and trembling. He placed a hand on my shoulder to steady himself.
But Elizabeth refused to be done. “After everything I’ve been through, I will not see my son marry an Eaton!”
Just like that, the room erupted.
Brady shouted, “ Damn it, it’s not your decision! ”
Beau and Booker jumped to their feet, defending their mother. Voices rose. Accusations flew. Caroline began to wail.
And I just sat there, staring at the ring on my finger—tears slipping down my cheeks. Why did our love always ignite so much anger? So much pain?
Maybe this was a fairy tale.
And maybe we were cursed.
Isaac’s grip on my shoulder tightened. He was gasping for air.
I stood quickly, trying to help him sit, while chaos swirled around us—shouting, profanity, fury.
“ Brady! ” I called, desperate to get his attention. But he couldn’t hear me.
Isaac turned to me, eyes full of something ancient and aching. “Tell Luanne I’m sorry,” he rasped. “And that I always loved her.”
Then he collapsed.
I dropped to the floor, hovering over him. “Brady, call 911!” I screamed.
That got his attention. And everyone else’s.
Suddenly, the room shifted—rushing toward the piano, panic replacing rage.
Elizabeth shoved me aside, her voice sharp and venomous. “Do you see what you’ve done?” she screamed.