A Cliché Christmas(31)
“Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. McDonald.”
“You can call me Susie. And merry Christmas to you, too.”
At rehearsal that afternoon, Misty had to repeat her questions a dozen times before my brain could actually compute them—a surefire bet my mind was preoccupied. I’m sure she assumed it was because Weston had taken the day off to go visit Savannah in Portland, and I didn’t bother to inform her otherwise. But I wasn’t fixated on Weston; I was fixated instead on the words of Susie McDonald.
I watched as Josie moved across the stage with confidence and ease. She was no longer the shy, timid girl who auditioned three weeks prior. Her empty eyes were now filled with an infectious joy.
And then there was Justin, who at first could barely stand onstage without shaking and stumbling through his lines. Weston had spent a lot of time helping him enunciate. Now, he was the first to arrive and the last to leave. He had even walked Nan to her car yesterday.
But the biggest transformation was with Kevin, the boxer-brief-wearing wise-man terrorizer. Over the past week, I’d seen something new in him, too. I realized that every time I praised him for a job well done, his posture changed: his chest puffed out, and he held his head high as if he owned the stage. I wondered how much positive feedback he received at home or in school.
As Nan played “O Holy Night” for the fourth time that day, something shifted inside me, and a new vision began to surface.
Nan hooked an arm around my shoulders as we watched the kids leave one by one.
“You’ve got that deep-thinkin’ look about you today.”
I let out a soft chuckle. “I have a deep-thinkin’ look?”
“Oh, yes, your mother has one, too.” Her quiet breathing filled the space between us as we watched the last of the students climb into their cars and pull out of the lot.
“Nan?”
“Hmm?”
“What was she like as a teenager?”
Her heavily loaded sigh caused a twinge of sorrow to prick my heart as I waited for her answer. I may have lost my mom to a new life that didn’t have room for me, but she had lost her daughter long before that.
“Your mother was always looking for a place to belong.”
The numbness inside my chest expanded to my shoulders, arms, and hands, leaving my fingertips tingling. Hadn’t I always wanted the same thing?
Nan continued, “Some people are born with a restlessness inside them that is never satisfied. No matter how much they are loved or provided for, nothing ever feels like enough. Summer had so much drive, so much ambition, but when she started focusing too much on what lay ahead, she missed out on everything that was right in front of her.”
Nan glanced at me, her eyes filled with compassion. And I knew she wanted me to understand something important—something about the past, something about how although my mom and I were wired the same, my future could be different. I could be different. Though the ultimate message wasn’t entirely clear to me yet, one thing was.
Summer Cole hadn’t left only me.
She’d left Nan, too.
And her absence had stained us both.
“She had a lot of dreams, then, when she was young?” The question strained from my throat.
“Yes, she had big dreams—all of which included a future outside this town. She was gonna leave Lenox right after graduation, but—”
“But then she got pregnant before she could finish out her senior year.”
Nan stroked my arm. “And I wouldn’t trade you for a million vintage cookbooks.”
I laid my head on her shoulder. “I love you, Nan.”
She kissed my hair. “Not nearly as much as I love you.”
“You can’t say that. There’s no way to measure it.”
“Sweetie, I have decades on you. I’m quite seasoned in the art of love.”
Yes, you are, Nan. Yes, you are.
“Wait—are you serious? The Weston? The guy who totally humiliated you in front of your entire town?” Cara’s high-pitched shriek could’ve broken a windshield.
“Yeah, the same one, only it turns out he didn’t actually do that. I was blaming the wrong person all this time.”
“Um . . . wow. I’m totally shocked. So what are you two? Like . . . dating?”
“I’m not exactly sure.” Friends who kiss? Is that a thing?
“It’s not that hard of a question, G. You’re either going on dates with him, stealing midnight kisses, feeling butterflies when he’s near you . . . or you’re not.”
“Um . . .”
“Oh my gosh! I haven’t been able to get you to go on a date for over a year, and then you go home to your Little-House-on-the-Prairie town and bam!”
I laughed as I unlocked the door to the theater. It was quiet, dark, and completely empty.
“Well, he’s not an easy guy to say no to.”
She sighed like a princess dreaming of her prince. “Do you think he loves you, Georgia?”
I nearly dropped the phone as I groped the wall for a light switch. “What? No, he doesn’t love me! Don’t be crazy. We haven’t seen each other for seven years!”
“But he’s known you your whole life?”
“Well, yeah.”