54. Noelle
Chapter fifty-four
Noelle
The Harvest Potluck was almost here. Tomorrow, my party planning efforts would be judged by the entire town, for better or worse, and I was about to throw up. Last-minute details whipped through my brain as I tried to dredge up the energy to drag myself the twenty feet from the couch to my bedroom.
Did Mrs. Gulliver remember she was NOT allowed to bring the green bean casserole? (I’d reminded her three times but caught her stocking up on green beans at the grocery store last week.)
Did we have enough pies? Six dozen had been promised, but would that feed everyone? Math was never my strong suit.
What if—?
I flopped a hand to the coffee table, feeling for my phone and typed out a quick text to Cal.
ME:
Are you still awake?
My phone rang instantly, cutting through the mental clutter, and I smiled.
“You’re overthinking this, Holiday,” Cal said in lieu of a greeting.
“How do you know?”
“Because I know you.” Something shifted on the other end, like he was getting comfortable. “Unload it on me, Elle. Let me carry it for a bit.”
And I did. By the time I finished, it was midnight, and I stifled a yawn. “Thank you,” I said simply.
“I’ll always be here to listen, okay? And I know it’s pointless to say don’t worry, so I won’t.
But I will say this: I’m proud of you, Elle.
You’re amazing. You’ve done big, scary things the last six weeks, and you’ve got this potluck, too.
I believe in you, and I’m with you all the way.
If Mrs. Gulliver shows up with a casserole, I’ll take responsibility and give it a secret burial in the cemetery, then blame it on Satchmo.
And if there’s not enough pie, I’ll forgo my share, okay? We got this.”
His words made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. Like my favourite blanket wrapping me in a cocoon of safety. He believed in me. We were a team.
We. It was a beautiful word.
“You’re too good to me,” I whispered. “I love you.”
“Love you more.”
“Not possible.”
He chuckled. “See you in the morning. Sweet dreams.”
The worries didn’t disappear, but I slept better than I expected. Getting my concerns out helped my mind quiet down, but it didn’t remove my exhaustion.
My alarm jarred me awake, and I pried my eyes open.
Soft morning light filtered through the half-open blinds I’d been too tired to close last night.
Silencing the alarm, I stared at the slatted wood ceiling in my bedroom, willing my limbs to cooperate and move.
It was a nice ceiling as far as ceilings went.
Sit up. Swing your legs over the edge. Walk to the dresser.
Small manageable steps. But just lying here, my body ached. Moving would only make it worse. Warmth scalded my eyes, and a trickle of tears leaked out. Today of all days was not the ideal time for a flare up. I wanted to go back to sleep for another ten hours.
Dragging myself across the room, each step sending shooting pain through my legs—like walking on broken glass—I grabbed the sweater and comfortable jeans I’d laid out the night before and headed for the bathroom.
Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. When the pain got this high, it triggered nausea. What a winning combination.
After choking down breakfast, my vitamins, and a coffee, I fiddled with my phone. I couldn’t drive, not like this. But who to call?
A chipper knock rang through the cottage, and I frowned at the front door. Who had the energy to be that energetic so early in the morning? It wasn’t Cal’s knock. In fact, it sounded awfully like—
“Macy?” I said, dumbfounded, as I swung the door open.
“Surprise!” Macy flung her arms around me.
A grunt of pain escaped me, and she softened her grip. “Bad day?” she whispered sympathetically.
“Yeah.”
“Want me to drive?”
I squeezed her. “You’re an angel in flannel and—” I took in the rest of her outfit. “Is that a Jerry shirt?”
“I found it online!” Macy beamed and held out the bottom of the T-shirt so I could read it better.
Sure enough, it was cartoon Jerry scowling in all his grumpy glory with the words, “Why be a Karen when you can be a Jerry?” underneath.
I shook my head. This town was cracked. “Why are you here?”
“It’s close enough to Thanksgiving, and I wanted to see you.” Macy’s onyx eyes glimmered with mischief. “And I wanted to meet your boyfriend. Make sure he’s good enough for my girl.”
“Mace.” I groaned but couldn’t stop my smile.
“Fine, let’s go. You can help me with the last-minute setup.
” I reached for my cane propped behind the door, then hesitated.
While I was grateful to have a tool that made my life easier, some days it was hard to swallow using it in public.
It acted like a magnet, drawing everyone’s stares. That’s your pride talking.
Gripping the handle, I limped out to Macy’s rental car, and she chatted away as we started the short drive into town. She pulled onto the shoulder to take pictures of the fluffy cows.
“Remind me to ask you whose farm that is so I can ask them if they offer cow hugging,” she said once we were back on the road.
I was right—she was obsessed.
Once she parked outside the library, I checked my reflection in the drop-down mirror before we hopped out.
Main Street was quiet this morning. The streetlamps had just gone off, and the light from the sunrise crept over the hushed streets.
Banners, pennants, and pumpkins decorated the shops, the windows filled with simple fall designs Paisley had drawn.
I inhaled the crisp, sharp morning air, holding my breath till my lungs burned before letting it out.
This was where I belonged.
“Put me to work, chica.” Macy grinned at me across the roof of the car.
“You might regret that,” I teased. “How do you feel about scarecrows?”
We’d set most of the decorations up yesterday, but there were always a few things that got added the morning of. Several of the Satterfields arrived minutes after we did, and the extra volunteers warmed something inside me.
Cal was the first one on the scene. He strode over to us in all his flannel-and-backwards-hat glory, giving me a quick kiss. “Hard day?” he asked in a low tone, hand lingering on my lower back as he gave me a once-over.
I hated that it was so obvious, but I leaned into his side. “Better now that you’re here.”
He grinned and kissed my temple. “Consider me your right-hand man. I’ve got you.
” Then he straightened, as if noticing Macy for the first time.
Odd, since my bestie was gorgeous with her jet-black hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail and her rich brown skin, and she never lacked for male attention.
“You must be Macy. Elle talks about you all the time.”
Macy shot me a knowing look. “She has impeccable taste. Now tell me, are you gonna marry her? Because Nasty Nate led her on for years before dumping her like last night’s leftovers, and if you plan on doing the same, you’ll have to deal with me.”
“Mace!” I hissed. For all of Macy’s strong points, tact was definitely not one of them.
“Nasty Nate?” Cal asked, amused.
Macy snorted. “Her snobby, social-climbing ex was too preoccupied with his daddy’s money to see the good woman in front of him. I’ve seen dentures with better eyesight than him.” She arched a brow. “That gonna be the case with you?”
“No, ma’am. My vision is just fine.” Cal’s arm around my shoulder squeezed me closer. He smiled down at me. “And I fully intend to marry her, if she’ll have me.”
“I . . . what . . . you . . .” And the best speech award goes to . . . Pull yourself together!
Chuckling, Cal pulled me even closer against him. “I fully agree. We’ll revisit this after the festival, yeah?” With a final wink, he nodded to his truck, parked behind us. “I brought all of Mama’s pies. Are we still keeping them in the library?”
He expected me to be a fully functioning human after that declaration? Sir, you’ve been spending too much time at book club. Maybe I needed to go to book club. Blinking to orient myself in the real world, I nodded.
“Lead the way, Holiday.”
Whoever coined the adage “Many hands make light work” must have had Serenity Springs in mind because in less than an hour, everything was ready. When this town pulled together, it was a thing of legend. We were a well-oiled machine of community spirit.
Macy made a coffee run to Bean There, Done That under the guise of grabbing coffees and pastries for everyone, but really it was so she could meet her hero—Jerry—since The Vine updated that as his last known location. Yup, we had a thread for Jerry sightings.
Caffeinated and sugared up, we were ready for the day.
Crowds trickled into the park in the center of downtown just before nine, and after Mayor Gulliver’s speech, the festival began.
Despite all the possible mishaps I’d dreamed up and Cal had talked me out of, everything went off without a hitch. People seemed happy with my efforts, given the number of approving nods directed my way.
Mrs. Gulliver marched up to me, Jerry tucked under her toothpick-thin arms like a football. “You’re a good egg, Miss Shepherd. I had my doubts, but you did it. Even Jerry is impressed.” She thrust the feline towards me, eyebrow arched in expectation.
Having just acquired her tentative favour, I didn’t dare disappoint her now. So against my better judgment, I held out my hand out for Jerry to sniff, silently praying for him to not mistake me for a chew toy. Or for him to decide human was his meat of choice today.
Jerry sniffed my fingers. Once. Twice. His whiskers twitched, then his sandpapery tongue licked me.
I snatched my hand back in case that was just a sampling before he chomped down on my flesh.
Mrs. Gulliver beamed.
I stared.
Jerry. Had. Licked. Me.
The hater of mankind liked me? Okay, there must be something wrong with me. Being disliked was a badge of honour that meant you were a normal human being. If the little devil actually liked someone, you could bet your bottom dollar you were a problem. What if—?
Jerry hacked up a hair ball.