Chapter 34 MJ
MJ
I’m only in the car for a moment when I know I’m not going home. There’s one more stop I need to make.
The way to Ron’s house is thankfully seared in my mind because if I had to call first, I might lose my nerve. I might be tempted to take the easy way out, but this conversation needs to happen in person.
My fingers tap the steering wheel in an off-tempo beat to “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” playing on the radio. I take a deep breath through my nose and let it out through my mouth in a futile attempt to soothe my nerves.
It doesn't take me long to get to Ron’s, but I argue with myself the whole way.
Is this the right thing to do? Am I being crazy? Is this crazy?
The porch light is on when I pull into the asphalt driveway, and there’s still light seeping out from around the curtains. I cut the ignition and get out of the car, shutting the door with a soft thud. It’s not too late to back out. I can just go home.
But I don’t go home. I tread carefully up the shrub-lined walk, the tap of my boots against the concrete mingling with the laughter wafting outside from the house.
I release a sharp exhale as I hit the top step. My finger is hovering centimeters from the doorbell when I drop my hands back to my sides.
This is crazy, I’m being a crazy person. It’s Christmas. He’s with his family. This can wait till tomorrow.
“What are you doing, Myra Jean?” I mutter, backing down the steps. “You need to—”
An ear-piercing bark startles me and I yelp, tripping over my own two feet, landing butt-first in one of the bushes.
June Bug appears in the glow of the window, her head hooked around the curtain, squawking like a deranged goose. She must be standing on top of the couch, unless she’s grown giraffe legs since I saw her last.
The laughter inside comes to a halt, and the best I can hope for is to get my butt out of this bush before Ron—or worse, his son—opens the door. If I thought I was going to be able to scoot out of here unnoticed, I was terribly mistaken.
I do a lightning-fast rundown to make sure nothing’s broken and begin to hoist myself up, my fingers snagging between the branches.
I’ve nearly regained my footing when I slip on a wet leaf, launching myself farther into the bushy pit, and I can’t help but think this is some sort of karmic retribution for not refusing that damn bikini wax Rose tried to pawn off on me.
I’m going to die of embarrassment, trapped in the bushiest bush that ever dared to bush.
How poetic.
The lock clicks, sealing my fate. Instead of fighting it, I allow myself to sink deeper into the shrubbery. Maybe if I’m very still, he won’t notice I’m here.
“Myra Jean,” Ron’s voice calls. “Is that you?”
I pop my head up and nervous laughter spills out of me, as though the only thing that had been keeping it in was the unfortunate angle of my head.
“Oh, hi there,” I say, popping my head up as though it’s totally normal for me to be here. “Merry Christmas!”
“Are you okay?” he asks, rushing toward me. “Here, give me your hands.”
I do as he says, and he holds on tight, pulling me until I’m right side up again.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks as I wipe dried-up leaves and seedlings from my backside. “You’ll catch a cold.”
“Well, you see, it’s a funny story,” I begin before remembering there’s actually not one funny thing about it. “Okay, so it’s not really ha-ha funny so much as it’s—”
“Spit it out, why don’t you?” he asks with a chuckle.
“I was on the way home after Christmas with the kids and Noah and Emily, but the day didn’t feel complete without seeing you, and now, here I am.
” I sigh. “Ron, I like you. You’ve made me consider the possibility of a future I thought I lost when Henry died.
I’m still trying to figure out what that even means and what it looks like.
All I know is that I want to find out. I can’t promise anything, but I think we have something here, and I want to see it through. ”
“What about tonight? Right now?” he asks. “Can you promise me that?”
I nod, the corners of my mouth tugging into a grin. “That I can do.”
“Good,” he says, reaching for my hand. “That’s all I need.”
“Thank you,” I say, swallowing hard.
He slides his arm around my waist. “For what?”
“For being understanding. For being willing to meet me where I am.”
He smiles and brushes my cheek with his thumb. “I’d meet you anywhere, Myra Jean. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“I’m starting to.”
I hold his gaze, my lips being drawn closer and closer to his.
“Dad?” A deep voice startles us apart. “Is everything okay?”
I look up to see a young man I recognize from the photographs on Ron’s wall. He’s holding a wriggling June Bug in the crook of his arm.
“Hudson, I have someone I’d like you to meet,” Ron says, beaming up at his son. “This is Myra Jean.”
A smile stretches across Hudson’s face as he descends the stairs to shake my hand.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, shifting June Bug to his other arm. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” I say as June Bug practically leaps into my arms, covering my face in wet kisses. “And it’s good to see you again, sweet girl.”
Hudson nods toward the house. “You want to come in? My wife was just making some hot cocoa. We’re about to watch It’s a Wonderful Life before we head back to the hotel. Can you believe Liz still hasn’t seen it?”
My breath catches in my throat. I haven’t seen that movie in years. Not since…
A pretty redhead appears in the doorway.
“I have seen it,” she insists, with a sniffle. “Well, most of it. Listen, it’s a long movie.”
Hudson’s lips quirk as he bounds up the steps and curls his arm around her. “Myra Jean, this is my wife Liz, and she has a condition where she passes out ten minutes into any movie we watch.”
June Bug yawns and settles into my arms. “Looks like this little stinker is getting a head start on movie naptime.”
“Well, what do you say?” Ron asks, his wiry brows raised. “You want to come in and watch the movie with us? Or fall asleep to it, as the case may be.”
“I’m not sure that one’s going to let you leave,” Hudson says, pointing at the sleepy pup I’m holding. “She looks pretty cozy.”
“Yeah, she does,” Ron agrees.
“I’d love to watch the movie with y’all,” I say finally.
Hudson smiles. “Come on in.”
“I’ll pour you some hot chocolate,” Liz offers, disappearing inside.
Ron places one hand on the small of my back and holds the other out in front of him. “After you, Myra Jean.”