She was on her toes, about to go to the girl and explain her behavior to Ann, when Noah stopped her with a hand at her wrist.
"Give her a chance," he said under his breath.
Give who a chance? Lindsey? His mom?
This whole thing might be a disaster.
Hours later,Noah walked side-by-side with Jilly down the old cow path behind his house. He had his cane in hand.
"Your mom is kind of amazing," Jilly said.
"I know."And so are you. The words stuck in his throat.
He and Jilly walked through a copse of woods. The trees were mostly bare of leaves at this time of year, their branches creaking in the breeze.
If they followed the path even farther, they'd reach the little pond over a slight rise. The rancher who'd owned the land before Noah had used the pond to water his cattle. It was spring-fed, a little jewel tucked back on the property. Noah had spent many hours fishing there.
Might be a fun activity for the kids next summer.
Or maybe he had no business thinking of next summer.
He was flying high after spending the day with Mom and Jilly and her crew. When he'd hatched the plan to bake cookies, he'd never imagined things going this well. His mom had wrangled everyone into the kitchen and given each kid a task to be responsible for. He and Jilly had mostly watched, offering help when it was needed. Somehow, they all managed to get covered in sugar and frosting.
Afterward, his mom had talked them into watching the Grinch movie, a newer animated version from the one he remembered from his childhood. The children had giggled at the Grinch's antics, but it was the deeper message that had resonated with Noah. If the Grinch could find happiness, did Noah have a chance?
When Jilly had made noises about taking the kids home for dinner, his mom had insisted on springing for pizza. And after the pizza, Mom had nudged Noah and Jilly out the back door, making up a flimsy excuse that Noah looked like he needed some air. No doubt the kids were consuming their weight in Christmas cookies, but if it gave him a few minutes alone with the woman he was falling for, he couldn't find it in himself to care. Hopefully Jilly would feel the same when she had to tuck the sugared-up kids into bed.
"When did she move away?" Jilly asked.
Jilly had been quiet this afternoon. He wondered if his mom made her uncomfortable, but the Jilly he knew wasn’t shy about sharing. Maybe something else was going on.
"She moved away about three years ago,” he said. “She lives in Galveston with my stepdad."
"It must be hard to be so far away from her."
"I learned to dress myself pretty well. And having Aiden working with me helps."
"Oh, no. No, I wasn't talking about that. I meant, it must be so hard not to be able to spend time with her every day."
He hadn't given a thought to the fact that Jilly interacting with his mom might make her loss more acute. He grabbed her hand. "I didn't even think—I'm sorry if having her here today has been difficult for you."
"I am... okay."
At least she hadn't said fine. She leaned a little closer as they walked, and her shoulder bumped his arm. Intentional?
"Some days are harder than others,” she said. “This season is... Well, Christmas was one of her favorite times of year."
He couldn't remember whether his dad had liked Christmas. It had been too long, and his memories of his dad were tainted by grief and shame.
"What was her favorite part of Christmas?" he asked.
He could hear the smile in Jilly’s voice, even though her tone reflected sadness. "She loved decorating the tree. She had this whole method, including a certain CD she would play, a really awful Kenny G instrumental one. She always made my dad get the tree set up in its stand and help her string the lights at the top of the tree. He usually ducked out after that." Her voice went slightly bitter when she spoke of her dad. "She would bring out these boxes of ornaments. A lot of them were handmade by Iris and me or had a special memory for her. She had this one that was from my great-great-grandpa. A hand-me-down silver-and-white angel."
"Do you still have it?"
"No." Her breath caught a little. "I think it might be in a box in Iris's attic. We didn't do the tree that first year after Mom died. And I'm not sure whether Iris has been back up to see what's there."
"You should ask her if you can look for it. Wouldn't she want you to have it?"
