Wrapped Up In Christmas

Dismay filled her at the idea of being in the room alone, decorating the tree alone when she had so many cherished memories of doing so with her aunt. She wanted Bodie to stay. Yes, he’d already helped her with the lights when she knew he didn’t want to but surely staying a little longer wouldn’t be too much to ask?

“You’ve already done so much to help me today, and I know I’m being silly, but, I… I’d really appreciate it if you’d decorate the tree with me.”

He looked torn, as if everything in him was saying that he should get out while he could, but something held him in place. “It’s been a long time since I’ve helped decorate a tree, Sarah. Hanging the lights is my extent of my tree-decorating abilities.”

He was turning to go, would soon be back in the bathroom working on getting everything ready for her future guests. It’s where he should be. Where she needed him to be. He was her repair guy, nothing more.

“Please don’t go.”

He met her gaze and studied her for long moments, then seemed to see beneath the surface, that this had nothing to do with trying to get him into the Christmas spirit and everything to do with her and what was going inside her head. Inside her heart.

Despite his tough exterior, she knew Bodie wouldn’t leave her when she’d asked him to stay. Strange to think how fully she trusted him to be good to her when she and Richard had dated for over a year and she knew he wouldn’t have hesitated to leave.

“You’re the boss,” Bodie said, as if that explained why he was still standing in her living room. “If you want me to decorate a tree, I’ll decorate a tree.”

She wanted to hug him.

“Thank you.” She clung to her cocoa mug and pretended to take another sip. Pretended because the cup was empty.

“Can I carry that to the kitchen for you?”

She started to say no but a trip to the kitchen would delay what she wanted delayed.

“That would be great.” She put her mug on the tray and she and Harry followed him to the kitchen. After he sat it down on the kitchen counter, she rinsed out their mugs and saucers, then placed them inside the dishwasher.

When she turned, Bodie was leaned against the countertop, watching her. Harry stood next to him, waiting to see what they’d do next or perhaps just hoping they had a few leftover cookies they planned to share with him.

“We don’t have to decorate the tree tonight.”

Oh yeah, he was on to her. His insight had her feeling guilty that she was dilly-dallying, that she was putting any type of damper on Christmas. She was supposed to be giving him Christmas joy.

“Then it would just be waiting.”

“I’m sure there are other things waiting on your attention that you’ve been putting off.”

“Plenty.”

“Then do those and come back to the tree when you’re ready. For that matter, you could help me install the vanities.”

Sarah closed her eyes. “I feel ridiculous.”

“Because?”

“Because I am so excited about that tree and yet I am procrastinating on decorating it.”

“Maybe you need to buy new decorations,” he suggested, the simple phrase clearly broadcasting that he’d accurately read what was bothering her.

She could. Except money was an issue. As would be looking at a tree in Aunt Jean’s house that held ornaments other than the ones Sarah cherished. She shook her head.

“I love those ornaments. Forgive me. I’m just being silly.”

“She must have been a wonderful person.”

“She was.” The tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes. “I’ve tried to keep myself busy enough that I haven’t thought about just how different all my Christmases are going to be without her.”

She hadn’t wanted to do this, but talking to Bodie was so easy.

“Aunt Jean was the closest I had to a mother—while also being so much more. It makes me sad that I’ll never see her smile again or have her teach me something new.” She pointed toward a quilt rack in one corner of the room. “She made that. It’s one of my favorites. There’s a trunk full of them in my bedroom. She made and did so many things, helped so many people, and was just such a talented person. She donated dozens of quilts over the years. Baby quilts, charity quilts, Quilts of Valor for soldiers—those were her favorite to make. Probably because Roy died in the service.” Sarah sighed. “I tried to soak up everything I could, to do good things like she did, but there was so much more for me to learn from her.”