Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Jason woke up Friday morning, pumped for the day to come. He had slept like a rock the night before. Though his mind wandered as the day passed, he forced himself to check off a few items demanding his attention.
Over the last several months, he’d found enormous satisfaction in using a sledgehammer to knock down walls and demolish Sheetrock. Goggles and masks had become his friends. The work was hard and dirty and sometimes painful, but he carried a vision of himself living in this house. That image kept him going.
Gabby had softened over their late-night burger dinner. She even laughed at a few of his lame jokes and forgot to be on her guard with him. He loved seeing her genuine smile. Maybe his honesty about the wedding had bridged an unseen gap between them.
In a booth at the diner, they had found themselves surrounded by off-duty cops and hospital personnel who were getting a bite to eat when their shifts ended. No one batted an eye at his and Gabby’s running attire. By the time he eventually took her home, he felt as if they had crossed the first hurdle.
Today, he knew he had to stay on his toes.
Even with a pep talk, he almost screwed up. He was so in the zone with his projects, he worked right through until two o’clock. Then he was forced to scramble as he showered and shaved. After that, he changed into khakis and a navy cotton sweater with a soft button-down underneath. He packed an overnight bag, tossed in his toiletry kit, and loaded the car. The sky was blue as could be. Not a cloud in sight.
He didn’t need a coat at the moment, but he threw one in the back seat just in case, along with a scarf.
When he parked at Gabby’s apartment, he texted her.
The response was immediate. Running late. Come on up.
The casual invitation pleased him. He wanted to see her home, her nest. Maybe it was revealing.
When she opened the door at his knock, her bright smile cut him off at the knees. Until now, he hadn’t known she could look like that. Open. Happy. Friendly. “Come on in, Jason,” she said.
“Hey,” he replied, feeling weird and excited all at once. “Take your time. I’ll just hang out and play something on my phone.”
She nodded. “I’m almost packed. My last appointment ran late—of course. The one day I was trying to get away early.”
“It figures. If you’re going to be a few minutes, could I grab peanut butter from your pantry? To make a sandwich? I forgot to eat lunch.”
She blinked and froze. “Um...”
“Um what?”
“I don’t have peanut butter.”
“You’re out?”
“No,” she said carefully. “I don’t have it.”
“Are you allergic?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Nearly everybody in the country has peanut butter in their pantry. It’s an American staple.”
“Sorry. Not me. You’re welcome to rummage in the fridge and cabinets. Help yourself to anything that looks appealing. I’ll be ready to go in twenty minutes.”
He’d done it again. Stepped on some invisible land mine. Who knew this woman had so many hidden layers?
Because he felt a strange vibe, he didn’t press the peanut butter issue. It wasn’t important. Odd, but not important.
Gabby stopped in the doorway, just shy of the hall. Her back was toward him. Then she turned around. “Jason,” she said. “You might as well know the truth.”
“I don’t understand,” he said. And he didn’t. But he’d done something to ruffle her feathers. Again.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and sat down in one of the chairs at her small kitchen table. He didn’t know whether to join her or not until she waved a hand at him. When he sat as well, she sighed. “I want to get on the road, but it’s silly not to let you see who I am. I don’t mean to be mysterious. Cate and Leah have always known most everything about me. I assumed you might have also. But apparently not.”
He stretched out his legs under the table. “Cate never told me anything personal or private about you. She’s always been incredibly discreet. It’s one of her gifts, I think.”
“Ah.” Gabby played with a saltshaker shaped like an ear of corn, her gaze downcast. “I grew up dirt-poor,” she said bluntly, shooting him a wary glance. “Or maybe whatever is lower than dirt. I told you that my mom had me when she was very young. There was no support anywhere. I never knew my grandparents. I don’t know if they kicked her out for getting pregnant. I just don’t know. But somehow, she got by. When I was old enough, I found a part-time job to help out. As a little kid, though, things were bleak.”
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me these things, Gabby. They’re in your past. None of it matters.”
“But it does,” she said quietly. “If we’re going to be friends, we have to understand each other.”
He managed a smile. “That sounds like a tall order.”
She lifted her chin. “But doable.”
“Okay.” He waited, sensing she had more to say.
At last, she glanced at her watch and muttered something under her breath. “I’ll cut to the chase,” she said crisply. “I don’t keep peanut butter on hand because it represents painful memories.”
“Got it.”
“Oh, hush,” she said, giving him an exasperated smile. “I’m trying to get this off my chest. Be quiet and listen.”
He mimed zipping his lips.
She stood and paced the confines of the small kitchen. “My mother took me to an evangelical church when I was little. Some people called us holy rollers . But Mom loved it. She liked the energy and the excitement and the feeling of family, I suppose. Especially since she had none. We went every Sunday.”
Jason was mesmerized. He could almost see little Gabby in a pew, her legs swinging. Questions hovered on his tongue. He stayed quiet, though. He couldn’t decide if these memories were painful. Her expression wasn’t bleak. But she had stepped into the past.
Her tale continued. “The pastor was a large, jovial man. Very country . But kind and compassionate. Each week he called kids up front for a children’s time. He would teach us a single Bible verse and then hand out treats . Most every Sunday, it was packs of peanut butter crackers. He always gave me an extra, and the other kids pretended not to notice. As soon as we were dismissed, everybody ran back to their seats. You could hear the crackling of the wrappers and then lots of chewing.”
So far, Jason hadn’t a clue how this connected to Gabby’s peanut butter–free cabinets, but he was determined to listen and learn.
She shook her head slowly. “I was always hungry, and I always wanted to open my crackers like the other kids.”
“But?” He couldn’t help himself now.
“But Mama slipped both packs of crackers into her purse. When I went to school Monday through Friday, I qualified for free lunch and breakfast. But the weekends were sparse. My mother and I had those peanut butter crackers for Sunday night dinner and washed them down with milk.”
“Gabriella...” His heart felt like a jagged piece of glass inside his chest. “Couldn’t the church do more?”
“They were all poor. Just not as poor as us. At Christmas and Easter and a few other times, we’d receive a food basket. Plus, we were able to choose things from the Clothes Closet several times a year. We got by.” She stopped and wrinkled her nose when she gazed at him. “But I confess, I’ve detested the taste and smell of peanut butter ever since.”
He stood up and took a step in her direction, perhaps intending to hug her or comfort her. He honestly didn’t know.
Gabby shook her head slowly, her eyes bright. With tears? “Don’t feel sorry for me, Jason Brightman. Those experiences gave me the drive and determination to succeed in school and in life. I learned that failure wasn’t an option for me. I had to look after my mother and make her proud. That’s all I cared about.” She stood abruptly. “We need to go. Let me finish getting my things together.” And then she disappeared.
Was she embarrassed about saying those things to him? He hoped not.
His hunger had disappeared. It was entirely possible he might never eat peanut butter again. He hurt for that innocent child and her resilient mother. The world could be a cold and harsh place. He’d had the extreme good fortune to grow up never knowing any of those experiences. Somehow, that shamed him.
When Gabby returned fifteen minutes later, he took her larger bag. “I’ve got this,” he said. “You lock up.”
In the car, an awkward silence lengthened. For half an hour, he was able to use traffic as a legitimate reason not to talk to his passenger. Once they were out of town and on the way to Blossom Branch, he cleared his throat. “Will we get the tree this evening? And may I take you and your mom to dinner?”
“That would be lovely. Thank you. She loves eating at the Peach Crumble. I know it isn’t fancy, but—”
He cut her off. “But the food is amazing. I remember. Sounds great.”
The little town where he and Cate and Leah and Gabby had grown up was only eighty miles northeast of Atlanta. In no time at all, it seemed, he was steering the car along familiar byways, though like any place, changes were evident all around.
His favorite spot was the town square, or to be more exact, the quad. Many years ago, city managers with keen foresight had earmarked two square blocks of the community for a park. Not only had they preserved the grassy spaces, but a beautiful gazebo had been erected right in the center. Seeing the heart of Blossom Branch again brought a ton of good memories. Jason remembered hearing bluegrass music there. Kissing his first girlfriend beneath an oak tree. Eating ice cream.
As he steered carefully between cars parked at the curb, he saw that one beloved tradition was still in vogue. To the left of the gazebo, an enormous blue spruce had been erected. It was covered with decorations that caught the afternoon light, despite the fact dusk was fast approaching. On the other side of the gazebo, a plywood Santa with eight reindeer—plus Rudolph and a fancy sleigh—were poised to lunge into the sky.
When he glanced sideways, he caught Gabby smiling, the delighted, uncomplicated smile of a child. Only Gabby was no child. She was a fascinating, beautiful, sexy woman. The more time he spent with her, the more he felt the pull of something that was both alarming and undeniable.
“Look,” she said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
“It is,” he agreed.
“They don’t cut it anymore,” she said. “Underneath all that magic, the root ball is wrapped in burlap and watered for the entire month. On New Year’s Eve, the town will raffle off the tree. One lucky farmer will take it home and replant it.”
“I like that idea, but digging it up must have been a bear of a job.”
“I’m sure...”
Earlier, when they reached the outskirts of town, Gabby had begun giving him directions. Now, after passing the heart of the charming community, they headed out the other way. Eventually, the houses they passed were older and not as upscale.
When Gabby told him to turn one last time, they pulled up in front of a tiny place that was maybe eight hundred square feet, judging from the outside. It was a white-frame, one-story structure with a leaning chimney and a gravel driveway.
“Did you tell her I was coming with you?” he asked.
“Sort of...” Gabby made a face as she got out. “We’ll wing it.”
He grabbed her two bags from the trunk and followed her to the tiny concrete porch. She must have had a key, surely...but she rang the bell. Jason saw the curtains twitch. Moments later, the door swung wide.
“Gabby, my baby!”
The woman grabbed her daughter in a tight hug. Her eyes closed, and a look of absolute joy brightened her narrow face. She was shorter than her daughter, but with the same build. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders. A few strands of gray aged her, but mostly, she and her only child could be mistaken for siblings in this light.
Gabby stepped back. “Mama, this is who I told you about. Jason Brightman. He’s going to help us get a tree tonight after we eat dinner. Jason, this is my mother.”
He held out his hand. “Hello, Ms. Nolan. It’s nice to meet you.” The older woman’s grip was strong, but her fingers were cold.
She smiled up at him, her expression mischievous. “Are you my daughter’s young man? I’ve been waiting for her to bring someone home. Call me Dahlia.”
Gabby made a sound that amused him, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he concentrated on her mother. “I am her friend. But that’s all so far. Let’s leave it at that. Dahlia is a beautiful name.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Come inside before we all freeze.”
It was a chilly night as December nights went in Georgia, but the little house was cozy. And almost too warm. A real fire burned in the fireplace. Jason took it all in as Gabby disappeared down the hall, presumably to her old room. It occurred to him he’d forgotten to make a hotel reservation, but if he couldn’t snag a B and B in town, there were always rooms at the chain motels out by the interstate.
Dahlia fluttered around the room. That was the best way he could describe it. She sat and stood and sat again. Was his presence making her nervous?
He cleared his throat. “I told Gabby I’d like to take you two ladies to dinner. She suggested we eat at the Peach Crumble. Is that okay with you?”
Gabby’s mother brightened again. “Oh, yes. I’m not much of a cook. It’s always nice to have someone else do it.” She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle from her pants. They were black denim. Her shoes were plain black sneakers, and her top was a simple red cotton button-up. She had fastened a gaudy Santa Claus pin at her shoulder.
“You did a great job with your daughter,” he said quietly. “She’s very smart. I’m sure her boss is happy to have her there.”
Dahlia nodded slowly. “Yes. I know she has a good job. But I’m most proud of the way she cares for her friends. She cooks for the old woman in 3C. Twice a week. And there’s a single mom who gets one night to herself each time my Gabby babysits the three-year-old twins. I adore her for doing that. Raising kids alone is hard.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” he said, his mind racing. “I didn’t know Gabby was so involved with her neighbors.”
“Oh, yes. She has a huge heart. I know she wants me to move to Atlanta, but I can’t imagine living anywhere but Blossom Branch.”
He wanted to ask if she was born here, but it seemed too personal a question.
Fortunately, Gabby entered the room before he bobbled the conversation. She had changed out of her office clothes and was wearing black stretchy pants with a soft pink pullover that looked as if it might be cashmere.
Her cheeks were flushed. “Sorry, Mama. I know you must be starving. I got away from work later than I meant to. And there’s always traffic.”
Dahlia beamed. “No worries, baby girl. I had a snack to hold me over. But I’m ready to head out anytime you two are. I’ve put the screen in front of the fireplace and separated the coals.”
Jason nodded. “I’m hungry, too. Let’s go.”
He wasn’t surprised when Gabby took the back seat so her mother could ride up front. Dahlia oohed and aahed over Jason’s car. It was a midrange vehicle. Not a Porsche, but not a tiny Kia either. The leather upholstery and seat warmers impressed Dahlia. She snuggled deeper into her spot. “I could get used to this.”
Gabby met Jason’s amused gaze in the rearview mirror and shrugged. He wondered how many times she had tried to buy her mother a new car. Probably half a dozen at least. He knew her that well.
The restaurant was crowded, but after a short wait, they were lucky enough to get a booth by the window.
“I love people-watching,” Gabby said.
“Me, too,” said Dahlia. “I can always tell who grew up here and who’s a transplant. But I don’t mind the rich folk moving to Blossom Branch or buying vacation houses. Their money has kept this sweet little village alive.”
“You’re right about the newcomers,” Jason said. “There are a lot of small towns in Georgia that got bypassed by the interstate and slowly dwindled to wide spots in the road. I love the fact that Blossom Branch is scrappy and intriguing and so very welcoming to strangers. It has heart, I think. That’s what’s so attractive.” In fact, he could say the same about Gabby.
Gabby sat quietly as her mother and Jason enjoyed a lively conversation. Dahlia was often shy around strangers, even though she enjoyed the company. But Jason set her at ease right away.
Dahlia had urged Gabby and Jason to sit beside each other. Now she faced them as she ate her pot roast and mashed potatoes and green beans. It bothered Gabby that her mother seemed so hungry. Was she not eating enough breakfast and lunch?
Jason took a sip of his tea and smiled. “So, what do you do for fun, Dahlia?”
Gabby’s mother blanched. Her entire demeanor changed. “I see a friend over there,” she muttered. “I’ll be back in a moment. You two children finish your meals.”
Jason shot Gabby a startled look. “What did I say?”
She rubbed his arm briefly to comfort him. “Not a thing. It’s hard to explain.” She lowered her voice. “My mother struggles with several mental health issues. Her boyfriend, my dad, was killed in a motorcycle accident three weeks before I was born. The grief, combined with postpartum depression, broke her, and she never fully recovered. It’s understandable, but I feel guilty that I haven’t been able to help.”
He frowned. “And no one back then got counseling for her?”
“Apparently not. She’s never been able to manage a full-time job, but she works twenty hours a week at a local nursing home. She’s happy there...and loves caring for the patients. Nothing medical, of course. She reads books aloud and sings to them and helps write letters to faraway family members if they want. I hope she’ll always have that outlet.”
“I’m sorry I said anything,” he muttered.
“Don’t be, Jason. It’s hard to know what will set her off. Even I make things uncomfortable at times. Mostly she lives firmly in the present. But it’s as if she slips sometimes. I never can tell if she’s seeing the past, or if she simply withdraws when she’s not able to handle a situation.”
“You’re a good daughter,” he said quietly.
She poked at the remains of her chicken and dumplings. “Doesn’t seem like it sometimes. I’ve always felt this crushing responsibility to make things up to her. My being born changed her life forever.”
“Isn’t that true of all kids?”
“This is different. You know what I mean.”
The waitress brought the check. When Jason insisted on taking it, Gabby glared at him. “I have money,” she said. “Give it to me.”
He shook his head, his gaze taunting. “Nope. A gentleman takes care of the ladies in his party.”
“We’re not a party.”
“I don’t need gratitude,” he said. “But you’re not paying for dinner. End of story.”
Gabby grimaced. “I’m used to paying my own way.”
“Too bad. I’m here, and I’m paying.”
“Well, don’t try this at the Christmas tree lot.”
“Your threats are meaningless, Gabriella Nolan.”
Dahlia appeared at his shoulder. “Why are you arguing with my daughter?” she asked, her voice calm.
Gabby grinned. “Busted.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “And why do you call her Gabriella?”
Jason took his credit card from his wallet. He looked at Dahlia. “I try to call her Gabby most of the time. But you gave your baby girl a beautiful name. I happen to like it.”
Dahlia beamed. “Her father picked it, but he—” Her face paled, and she began to wring her hands. “I want a Christmas tree,” she said. “Can we please go now?”
Outside the restaurant, the walk to the car was strained.
Gabby put an arm around her mother’s narrow waist. “Does Mr. Dave still have the big tree lot out on Highway 16? Or is there somewhere better?”
“I only want a Dave tree,” her mom said. “His are the best.”
Gabby slid into the back seat again. She leaned forward and showed Jason her phone. “We’re only five miles away. Here’s the map.”
Now that they were all three closed up in the car, the silence was more noticeable. Jason punched in a Christmas channel on the satellite radio. Soon, holiday music was a welcome diversion.
They didn’t need a diversion for long. The locally famous Christmas tree farm was easy to find. When they turned onto a well-marked side road, a string of vehicles said they were in the right place.
Jason eased forward. “I’ll let you two ladies out and find a place to park.”
Dahlia punched his arm. “I’m neither old nor feeble. I think my daughter and I can walk a quarter mile.” She pointed. “Take that spot there.”
Jason shot a glance over his shoulder at Gabby. “Yes, ma’am.”
When they climbed out, they were instantly surrounded by the scent of fresh-cut evergreens. As they walked toward the trees that rested against roped walkways, the smell deepened. Gabby inhaled sharply. Christmas had never been a particularly wonderful time for her. Even when she found a job that paid well, her mother wasn’t impressed with expensive gifts. Dahlia did like decorating the house, but only to a point.
Once, when Gabby was fourteen or fifteen, her mother told her that Christmas sometimes made her sad, because she had always wanted a big family, and it was just the two of them. The statement hurt, though she knew Dahlia hadn’t meant to wound her.
All Gabby’s life, she had tried to make her mother’s life happy and fulfilling. But there were many things beyond Gabby’s control.
The crowds made it tricky to assess the available offerings. Jason lifted first one tree and then the next, letting Dahlia examine them. Her house was modest in size. The nine-foot trees were out. But she insisted that the six-footers were too small. In the end, they finally found a seven-foot contender that was full and nicely shaped.
Jason hoisted it up, and they made their way to the small wooden booth to pay. Gabby had cash in her hand before Jason could reach for his wallet.
The gray-haired man running the credit card machine and making change looked familiar even with his head bent. He wore denim overalls and a crisp white dress shirt. When he straightened and spotted Gabby’s mother, he smiled broadly. “Dahlia Nolan. I haven’t seen you in so long.”