Chapter 23
Haven
Something’s off.
I can’t put my finger on what, but it’s something. Even without opening my eyes, I know Alex isn’t next to me.
Flailing around for the bedside light, I knock the manila envelope to the floor in the process. It’s been there since Alex gave it to me. I haven’t opened it again, and we haven’t talked about it. He said I didn’t have to make any immediate decisions, and he’s stayed true to his word.
Nonetheless, that envelope’s been mocking me for the better part of a week, yet now’s not the time to address it. It can stay where it is.
The clock says 5:55 a.m.—too early for any of us to be up. Now that the mornings are darker, we’ve been sleeping past seven some days, even Everly, who’s also missing from her crib.
My first reaction is panic. Since she was sick, it’s like I’m waiting for it to happen again. But the rational part of my brain tells me that Alex would have woken me if that had been the case. She appeared perfectly normal when I did her midnight feed.
Flinging back the covers, I notice a tiny crack of light through the gap where the bedroom door is open. It’s coming from one of the plug-in glow worms Alex bought for the nursery, and I creep in to find him on the couch with Everly sleeping on his chest.
After I gave birth and saw Everly for the first time, I didn’t think it was possible to love anything so quickly or so much, but every time I see them together, I’m overwhelmed all over again. They’re two halves making up my whole heart.
As quietly as I can, I take the blanket from the rocking chair and pull it over them, but when I turn to leave, Alex’s fingers curl around my wrist.
“Don’t go.”
Something about his tone stops me in my tracks, and it’s then that I notice his damp eyelashes and wet cheeks.
“Alex?”
He says nothing but opens his arm for me to slip in next to him, which is exactly what I do.
We lie there, nestled together, and I listen to the sound of his snuffled breathing while I wait for him to speak.
It’s only when I feel the wet of his tears hit my brow that I prop myself with my elbow to find them pouring down his cheeks.
The pain across his face is so acute, it hurts.
“Alex?”
“My father would have loved you, you know.” His voice rasps, thick with emotion.
“He would have loved how obsessed you are with Christmas. You’d have compared favorite tree ornaments, he’d have made you rate all the Christmas songs from one to twenty-five, and he’d have quizzed you on the movies.
” His breath judders, and he takes a big sniff.
There’s a box of tissues across the room, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to leave him crying like this, even for a second, so I use the edge of the blanket to dry his face instead.
“I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”
It’s the same thing anyone would say to me when they’d come to the ranch and hear all about my parents.
And I’d hate it.
The words felt so insincere. A platitude because they couldn’t think of anything else, but it was better than coping with the silence stretching out once they heard the news that my parents had died.
But I’m wrong. I can think of plenty to say, just nothing that adequately expresses the pain I feel at seeing Alex like this.
But it’s not about me, and it’s the truth. I do wish I’d gotten to meet his dad, so I could thank him for his incredible son.
“It’s the anniversary of his death today.”
I reach for his hand resting on Everly’s back, lace our fingers together, and listen.
“I’ve been thinking about how much has happened since last year, how eventful it’s been, more than any other year.
” His voice breaks again, taking my heart with it.
“I have so much to tell him today. I’ve already told him about you and Everly, but I usually recap, and there’s a lot.
” He sniffs, lifts the blanket, and dabs his eyes.
“It’s made me realize how much of my life I’ve put on hold because I didn’t want him to miss out.
I didn’t want to recap too much. But this year, I’m finally remembering what it’s like to enjoy Christmas.
I see it through your eyes, how much wonder you have over the tiniest things—gingerbread and twinkly lights, trees.
” A laugh rumbles in his chest. “And I feel closer to him because of you.”
We lie there in silence, and I listen to the soft sound of him breathing through tears.
“It took me time, you know.”
Alex turns his head. “What did?”
“Loving Christmas again, it took time. Avoiding it was hard because it’s steeped in so much of the family business.
Every year after my mom died, my dad was adamant we kept decorating just like she did, but when he went too .
. .” All the memories come flooding back.
They’re not ones I’ve repressed, but they aren’t particularly happy, and I don’t enjoy revisiting them.
Yet for Alex, I’ll do anything. “It was like I got sucked into this black hole. I was so angry with him. The first year after he died, I opened the store as usual, but my house was bare.”
His eyes widen. Alex saw my house last year, so I know it’s hard for him to imagine because Christmas was everywhere. Trees in every room, lights strung around the house, a full-sized reindeer, and a sleigh.
“Really?”
“Really. Grief isn’t linear. It takes time. But I realized I wasn’t any happier by not celebrating.” My lips quirk with a smile. “Because I do love it.”
The pain on Alex’s face shifts, replaced by a genuine smile. Not a huge one, but it’s authentic and a little lopsided. “You love Christmas?”
I lift my shoulder. “It’s my thing.”
“I think it’s my favorite thing about you,” he says, leaning in and pressing his lips to mine.
The movement has Everly stirring on his chest, and it’s got to be almost seven by now, which means that she’ll be awake soon, and our day will begin the same as every day.
Except today’s not any other day, and I, of all people, know the sorrow that drags through you during certain times of the year.
“What do you normally do to remember him today?”
His fingers twist through my hair. “We go to the church and then I usually get blind drunk, so I’m not entirely sure what the others do.” He chuckles darkly.
His eyes widen as I sit up sharply, but I’ve made a decision.
“Okay, then. That’s what we’re doing today. We’re going to find out.”
The churchyard is the one place I haven’t yet visited in Valentine Nook, and walking through the gates, I regret it.
It’s incredibly pretty. Holly bushes ripe with berries frame the outside, and the path cuts through neatly cut winter grass where headstones of differing sizes are set out haphazardly.
They look old, yet whimsical. I spy graves dating back to 1750, bringing a poetic quality to it, and on a frosty December morning with fog hanging in the air, it all feels very Emily Bronte.
It’s not any of these stones we stop in front of, however, because the path curves around behind the church and over toward the fields.
My neck cranes as we walk slowly past, and my eyes trail up the steeple, past gargoyles and crests, and ornate spires until they reach the bells in the tower.
I’ve gotten so used to them going off on the hour that I forget how loud they are until they ring out, making both of us startle enough that it sets us off into a fit of giggles.
It’s exactly what we need to lighten the moment.
We’re still giggling when we turn the corner to find one of the twins sitting on a bench in front of the door to a wide stone crypt.
Ivy trails around the edges, twining with the floral symbols carved into the rock.
Above the door, there’s a crest which I recognize as the one in the middle of Alex’s pinky ring, and hanging on the front is a Christmas wreath.
“Henners?”
He’s dragging a sleeve under his nose as he spins around, and when he sees it’s us, his shoulders relax. “Oh, hey, Al. Haven.” He smiles and shifts up the bench to make room. “Fancy seeing you here.”
The joke is weak, but we all laugh anyway because laughing is the better option.
“Didn’t expect anyone so early, to be honest,” Alex says, throwing his arm around Hendricks as he sits down.
Everly’s in the harness, which he unbuckles so she can turn and stare at Hendricks, who’s waving his hand in her face.
There’s a small silver and leather flask on the bench between them, which Alex picks up and sips. When he pulls a face, I’m guessing whatever’s in there is strong.
“Ugh, is this hot Ribena? What are you? Five?”
“I can’t start drinking at eight a.m., and yes, I have a five-year-old.” Hendricks snorts.
Alex’s lips roll and curve upward. “That’s probably something I need to remember. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve been drunk since Everly came along.”
He looks at me like he needs confirmation, so I shake my head. The same goes for me. Beyond the glass of wine we have with dinner, I’ve barely had anything to drink all year.
“Where’s Max, anyway?”
“Still asleep when I left. Birgitta will get him up,” he replies, peering back down at Everly and holding out his finger for her to grab. “Is this Everly’s first time meeting Grandad?”
We both nod. I did wonder if Alex had ever brought her here by himself, but I guess not. As it is, he twists her toward the door and points at it.
“Everly, that’s where your grandad is.”
It’s as he points at the door that I realize we’re all still outside. Because that door looks like it opens, and it’s cold out here. The fog is adding an extra level of chilliness. “Why are we sitting on a bench?”
“That’s the Burlington Family Crypt, where generations of our family have been buried.”
“I’m amazed there’s still room,” Hendricks quips.
“Hmm.” Alex tilts his head my way. “But in answer to your actual question, we don’t have the key.”
“The key?”
“To the door. We lost it.”
“You lost the key?”
“Miles did, somewhere.” Hendricks picks up. “Mum wasn’t happy. She had a new one made, but no one’s allowed it.”
Next to me, Alex’s shoulders begin shaking in silent laughter.
We’re in a graveyard, so I’m guessing he’s trying to be respectful, which is why it seems all the funnier.
It’s one of those times when you know you shouldn’t be loud, but repressing it only makes it worse.
Whatever memory he’s laughing at has his body shaking enough to set off Hendricks.
I’m soon sitting at the wrong end of a bench that feels like it’s going to topple any minute.
And while I’m not sure exactly what’s so funny, I can’t help but join in because there’s such a purity to seeing them laugh that I’m getting a kick watching them together, being brothers, sharing a lifelong bond.
Weird as it is, sitting in a graveyard, I feel incredibly happy because Alex is happy.
Then, as their laughter starts to die down, Hendricks drops his head on Alex’s shoulder. It’s so sweet and tender, I almost tear up.
“Coming to the pub this afternoon?”
Alex nods. “Is that what you all do when I go and get drunk by myself?”
“Yes, we get drunk together.”
“Then count me in.” He laughs.
At the sound of footsteps, the three of us turn to see Miles walking around the corner, coming through the fog in a baseball cap, thick black scarf wrapped around his neck, blowing into his hands for some warmth.
“It’s cold as balls this morning.”
Alex picks up Hendricks’s flask and holds it out. “Hot Ribena?”
Miles’s eyes flash with excitement. “Fuck yes. Nice one, Henners.”
I shuffle up so Miles can sit next to Alex.
“Morning, Haven, thank you for bringing the big man today.”
I peer around him to Alex, with a smile. “He got here all by himself, actually.”
“But he’s still sober, so that’s an improvement.”
“Milo, shut up,” Alex snaps, though it holds no real mirth and only makes Miles chuckle.
“Mum and Clemmie are on the way,” he says instead. And just like Hendricks did, he drops his head on Alex’s shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here, Al.”
“Me too.”
“And you’re still coming for Christmas Day?”
He nods. “Yes, we’re still coming.”
“Good, remember it’s early doors.”
“I remember.”
We sit in silence, them reflecting on memories of their dad while I think about the future. Alex’s family, our family, Everly. And the manila envelope on the floor.
Before the others arrive, I stand to get out of their way. I want to give them space to grieve together.
“Alex, you want to give Everly to me? I’ll take her for a little stroll.”
“Are you sure?”
I smile. “Yes, have some time with your family.”
After he straps us both into the harness and gives us a kiss, Everly and I wave goodbye.
Valentine Nook is still waking up when I leave the churchyard and walk across the road to stand under the arch.
The twinkle lights strung along Valentine High Street are still bright against the lightening morning sky.
I watch the store lights turn on and the door signs switch from Closed to Open.
Dave at The Valentine Cook is busy stacking the displays of fruit and vegetables outside the store, but only The Beanery is in full flow, and that’s because Claudia opens it up at seven o’clock in time for everyone to grab their coffees ahead of the morning commute into Oxford and London.
Alex’s family. Everything about this place—Valentine Nook—is steeped in him, their history, their father.
This is where Alex belongs, not Aspen.
If Alex wants to buy the ranch, then he can go right ahead. But the truth of the matter is, while he might say he’s happy to leave all this behind, I’m not willing to let him.