Epilogue
MELODY
One Year Later
Ican barely contain myself when Eli’s truck pulls up to the cabin. Grabbing my laptop from the kitchen table, I bolt out into the snow in socks to meet him at the truck.
“Woah!” my husband grumbles good-naturedly, securing his toolbox in the cab. “How many times do I have to tell you not to come flying out of the house dressed like that? Do you want to get sick?”
“The cold doesn’t get you sick,” I remind him again, thrusting my computer screen in his face as he ushers me up the porch steps. Bits of ice trickle down my leg where my leggings meet my socks, but I’m far too excited to care.
“What has you hopping around like a kangaroo?” he howls, taking my device as we regroup in the house.
The scent of turkey and ham wafts up to greet us, and the Christmas tree in the corner shakes slightly as we secure the door against the wind outside.
“Look! Just read it!”
He struggles to balance removing his boots and reading simultaneously, his smile growing wider with each sentence.
“Well, how about that?” he laughs, setting the laptop on the counter. “You are an international best-selling author once more!” He wraps his muscular forearm around my waist and kisses my lips sweetly before letting go. “Not that I had any doubt about it.”
“Ha!” I snort, following him inside the living room toward the woodstove. “I did.”
“How could it not be a best-seller? You wrote about us,” he says.
I laugh. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”
“It’s just flattering to know I’m forever memorialized in a book,” Eli insists. “My wife, the world-renowned author.”
I flop down on the sofa and strip off my soaked socks, sticking my toes out in front of the heat to wiggle them around.
“How was your job?” I ask, peering at him. “I can’t believe you went out on Christmas day for a job.”
Eli laughs loudly. “First of all, it was an emergency.”
“Edna says everything is an emergency,” I protest. “I mean, I love the woman, but come on…”
“No,” he reassures me. “It really was an emergency. She has a big hole in her roof.”
I frown slightly. “Oh… is it really bad?”
“I patched it up. It’ll keep for now, but she’s going to need to get it repaired soon.” We look at one another.
I nod. “You do what you have to do. I’ll take care of the supply costs for her.”
“She’ll never go for it,” he sighs.
“She’s tough, Eli, but she can’t fight off you and two other roofers once you get up there to do the job.”
He snorts again. “And second, it’s not Christmas Day.”
I wave a hand dismissively and jump to my feet to check on the progress of my food. “For all intents and purposes, it’s Christmas Day. My parents are coming, yours, your sister?—”
“It’s three weeks until Christmas. Just because you want to go all out and feed everyone Christmas dinner, does not make it Christmas,” he challenges me.
I fake glare at him as I turn away from the stove, shutting the door.
“It’s like you don’t even want Santa to visit or something,” I tell him, wagging a finger.
The flashing lights accenting the window catch hints of dark red in his chestnut mane. He lounges casually against the back of his recliner, imported from his house, which we now rent for a side income.
“Edna is still coming, isn’t she?”
“She said she is,” he reassures me. “I’ll pick her up in an hour.”
Relieved, I exhale and look at the rest of my prep list.
“She was in a mood today, though,” Eli chuckles. “She keeps going off about this new guy who works at the animal shelter. I feel sorry for him. It sounds like she's finally met her match in stubbornness.”
“If anyone can handle themselves, it’s Edna Monroe,” I tell him with a laugh. “Anyway, it’s about time someone gave her a challenge.”
“I worry about her a bit,” Eli confesses. “She’s been alone for so long…”
I’ve often had the same thought about Edna, which is why I make it a point to invite her over every couple of weeks.
Rufus barks once, and I jump.
"My gosh, Rufus. Sometimes I forget you're even here," I tell the massive mixed-breed dog as he rises from his nap on our bed and ambles toward the front door. "Eli, Beth, and her husband just pulled up," I call, peering out the window. "And it looks like your parents are with them."
Eli groans, pulling himself off the couch as I hurry to find another pair of socks from the bedroom. “I told them four. It’s three!”
“You should know better by now,” I chuckle as the front door opens.
Matthew coos at the dog, and Eli’s parents, Beth, and Beth’s husband shout out greetings.
I rejoin the Bartons in the living room, accepting hugs from everyone as they demand to know where my parents are.
“They refused to stay here and ‘take up space,’ as my mother put it,” I sigh, rolling my eyes dramatically. “So they got a room at the Snowy Ridge.”
“I do love that place,” Eli’s dad sighs. “We used to take the kids there for overnights just on a whim.”
“It’s too busy now that the country star’s there all the time,” his mother complains.
“It’s more fun knowing you might see a celebrity!” Matthew declares from the floor, where Rufus rolls over for belly rubs.
“What can I do?” Eli’s sister asks, and I try to make them all sit, but the Bartons refuse, and I’m surrounded by their chatter as they help me chop vegetables and prepare the baking.
“I’m going to pick up your parents and Edna,” Eli calls an hour later, and I wave him off from the living room where we pore over old photo albums from Christmases past.
“Look at how little Eli was!” his mom coos, and Matthew laughs aloud.
“He looks like a little alien.”
“You looked like one, too, when you were born,” his mother reassures him.
“No. I was born handsome,” Matthew tells us, and we all laugh.
Succulent smells flood the small cabin house, and I turn off the oven just as Eli returns. My parents embrace me but almost immediately cast me aside for Matthew and the dog.
“I think they prefer smaller things,” Eli teases.
Edna lets out a huff. “Some people are good with children and animals. Others shouldn’t be around them.”
I stare at her oddly.
“What are you talking about?” I ask worriedly. “My parents are solid people, Edna.”
Offended, she glowers at me. “Not your parents. I know they’re wonderful people. How does a girl like you happen if not by good parenting? I wasn’t talking about them.”
“I think she’s still going on about the kid at the animal shelter,” Eli murmurs.
“What kid?” Edna whiplashes, reaching for the bottle of rum to spike her eggnog with. “He’s a full, grown man. My age.”
Dead silence follows her confession as we all look at one another. Rufus barks once to break the awkward pause, and I swallow a smile.
“Come on, everyone,” I call. “It’s time to eat. Wash your hands and sit down.”
We gather at the dinner table after Eli's sister helps me arrange the feast of turkey, ham, gravy, potatoes, greens, cranberry sauce, and mixed vegetables across the surface.
Eli cuts up the freshly baked bread and puts it down next to the dinner rolls and corn on the cob as his mom sets a platter of cheeses.
My eyes shine as I look around the table at everyone, my heart in my throat. I catch a hint of Gran’s floral perfume under my nose, and I close my eyes, drinking it in for a second. She’s here with us; I can feel her.
“Can I just say how grateful I am that you’re all here with us for Christmas?” I tell them. “I know it’s difficult to get everyone together, but having you here for our first official Christmas as a married couple… well, I want you to know how much it means to Eli and me.”
His mom and mine give me warm smiles as Eli squeezes my hand.
“And maybe next year, there will be an extra place setting at the table,” Eli’s dad pipes up hopefully.
“There it is,” Eli grumbles as the table titters. “Now you’re officially a part of the family, Melody. They’re not even hiding the grandchild suggestions.”
“You already have a grandchild,” Matthew says, sounding hurt.
His grandparents appear mortified as they stare at him, speechless for a moment.
“Oh, Matty, we don’t mean?—”
“Rufus is your grandchild!” Matthew cuts them off wickedly, and the Bartons visibly exhale. He turns to us. “Seriously, I would like a cousin. This only cousin thing sucks.”
“Matthew, language!” his father reprimands him. I look over at Eli, and he shakes his head half-apologetically, but there’s nothing to be sorry for. This is exactly what life and Christmas should be. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.