Christmas in Dixie, page 3
“I wanted to surprise you for Christmas. I got off work the next few days,” Collins says.
My eyes widen enough that I feel my hairline raising. “Oh.” I smile. Part of me is thrilled to spend our first Christmas as a couple together. The other part wants to warn him to run before Bradley or Daddy or Liam ruins it. And if he makes it past that many levels of Wisteria, there’s always Aunt Misty. She’s like the monster in the castle on the final level of all those old Nintendo games.
“Well, Collins, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Mama wipes her hands on her apron, steps forward, and hugs him. I let out a breath, thankful for her saving the day.
Meanwhile, Bradley stands there like he’s patrolling our kitchen. I shoot him a mean look. He shrugs.
I set the mixing bowl I’m holding on the counter and roll down my sweatshirt sleeves. “Collins, I’ll go help you get your luggage.”
“Nonsense, your daddy can do that.” Mama gives us her own beauty queen smile.
“Let him do it, he’s a grown man,” Daddy spouts out from the corner of the kitchen in between bites of peanut brittle.
“Of course.” Collins turns and walks out of the house.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, I cross my arms. “Daddy, that was rude.”
“Sorry, Lacie Bug. I just call it like I see it.”
I roll my eyes, then turn to Bradley. “And what are you doing here?”
“I escorted him. He was crawling down the road lost as a sinner, because his GPS wouldn’t work.”
I exhale through my nostrils. “Well, thanks for that, but you’re free to go back to whatever it was you were doing.”
“You mean protecting our county?” Bradley’s dark eyes narrow.
“Sure, whatever, Barney Fife.”
Bradley tips his hat and frowns at me. “Always a pleasure, Lacie.”
I turn toward the sink and grab my bowl, stirring the cake batter so hard that my wrist starts to throb. I don’t turn back around until I hear boots on the wood floor. When I do, Liam and Bradley are gone.
“Don’t be hard on Bradley.”
I slam the bowl on the counter, sending some chocolate drops to the granite. “Daddy, why do you always take up for him?”
Daddy shrugs. “He’s a good guy. He can’t help it Collin got lost.”
“It’s Collins, Daddy.”
“That’s plural.”
“Yes, I know. It’s a family name. Just like Earl Ed was named after Uncle Earl and G-Paw.”
“Well, Earl Ed isn’t plural.”
I slam my hand on the counter and prop my other hand on my hip. “Well, if you write it out, it’s past tense.”
Mama smirks. “Joey, she does have a point.” I nod at Daddy.
Daddy shakes his head. “Fine, I’m sorry. I can’t help that I like Bradley. I’ll play nice with Collin or Collins, or whatever.”
I clinch my teeth at Daddy’s backhanded apology. Knowing that’s all I’ll get from him, I respond, “Thank you, Daddy.”
A few minutes later, Collins comes back into the kitchen rolling a suitcase. He stops in front of the island and parks the bag by his feet.
“Bradley just invited Lacie and me to ride with him in the Apple Cart Christmas parade.”
“You said no, right?” My nerves tick as I anticipate his response.
“I actually said yes. I thought that was nice of him.”
“I told you he’s a nice guy.” Daddy nods at me.
I ignore Daddy and answer Collins instead. “Aren’t you tired from driving all day? I think we’d have more fun staying in and watching movies.”
“Now, that’s not true.” Mama pouts. “The parade will be a great way for Collins to meet everyone and get a feel of the town.”
I bite my tongue to keep from protesting. As much as I disagree with my mom right now, what she says gives me an idea. Maybe if Collins sees downtown Apple Cart, he will be satisfied and not care to hang out in downtown Wisteria. He’s always saying how he wants to see where I grew up. If I have to show him Apple Cart or Wisteria, I’m all for picking the lesser of two evils.
Mama, Daddy, and Collins all stare at me like they’re dogs and I have a bag of bacon strips. I can’t help but make one more rebuttal. “Collins, we don’t have to go unless you want to.”
“I think it would be fun to see the town. I’ve never been to a small-town parade before, much less rode in one.”
I nod slowly, and Mama claps her hands. “I’ll take plenty of pictures for you kids. This will be perfect for his first visit.”
Daddy grins around a mouthful of candy. Most likely, his amusement comes from me having to ride with Bradley. I take a step back from the cake batter and sit on a stool at the island. I think I’m gonna be sick.
Collins
* * *
My first few hours in Wisteria were interesting. First, I got pulled over for supposed drunkenness, followed by a police escort to Lacie’s house. Then, in a desperate attempt to find some common ground with Mr. Sanderson, I asked about one of the deer heads on the wall. This led to an hour-long story of how he tracked the deer for two days before killing it.
I finally had a few moments alone with Lacie before we had to get ready for the parade, when she helped me settle into the basement. Of course, our alone time was cut short by her mother coming in and out with bedding and other things I might need. Not to mention her brother coming in and out for guns every fifteen minutes.
Now I’m about to witness the Apple Cart County parade.
Mr. Sanderson pulls into a gravel parking lot and stops in front of a metal building. A sign beneath the larger “General Store” sign reads, “From a cradle to a coffin.” A little freaky, if you ask me.
Everyone gets out, so I follow. As if right on cue, Bradley drives up on a John Deere tractor. It has a cedar branch wreath on the front and Christmas lights around it. “Glad you guys could make it. Hop on.”
He has to be kidding. There’s one seat beside him. Well, more like one half of a seat.
“We can’t all fit on that,” Lacie protests. That’s my girl.
“Sure we can. Collins can sit in the buddy seat, and you can sit on my lap.”
Bradley seems like a nice enough guy, but this is a little over the top. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say.
“Why, you think it would work better if you sat on my lap?”
Mr. Sanderson laughs behind me. I try my best to ignore him.
“Why can’t she and I share that little seat?”
“No offense, but it’s barely on there as it is. Two adults will break it.”
I inhale, then exhale and lower my shoulders. “I’ll sit on the side.”
“Okay, glad you agree.”
Without saying a word, I climb up the step and get on the fender. “This side.”
Lacie smiles at me and sits in the tiny seat, not Bradley’s lap. I lift my chin in a metaphorical “take that” toward Bradley. If we were animals in a jungle, I’d roar, but no sense in causing a scene in front of some warehouse coffin building.
I grip onto the edge of the fender as Bradley rolls out across the gravel parking lot. Dozens of floats and cars and even horses are lined up in a row. We bypass them and park in front of the high school bands. An ATV with a sign on the front that reads “Sheriff Bradley Manning, Grand Marshall” pulls in front of us. It’s driven by a kid in a Santa hat.
I squirm against the hard metal beneath my khakis to try and not sit on a strand of Christmas lights.
“Collins, if you want, you can ride behind Riley on the four-wheeler.”
I flare my nostrils and try not to sound gruff with my response. “No thanks, Bradley, I’m good.”
“If you say so, big dog.”
A second later, the Riley kid takes off, and we follow him. Christmas music fills the air as the bands start to play. It pulsates my ears, as the drummer is right behind me. Bradley reaches down by his feet and pulls out a huge bag of candy. He hands it to Lacie.
She starts tossing candy, and both of them wave at everyone. “Wave, Collins.” I do as Bradley says, then quickly regret it as I almost fall off the fender. Lacie snatches onto my arm and helps me adjust my seating. I smile down at her and scoot closer to her seat. Forget waving, nobody here knows me anyhow.
A few minutes later, we stop in front of the Piggly Wiggly. There are tons of people sitting in lawn chairs and truck beds all over the parking lot. It’s like a modern-day conservative Woodstock or something.
Then Bradley puts the tractor brake on and we sit while the band begins to perform. The cheerleaders descend from a firetruck on down the parade line and come out front. The baton and flag girls join them and start dancing to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” An old man who looks like Kenny Rogers—before all the plastic surgery—gets out of a pickup and starts handing out candy. He’s wearing a Santa suit and a cowboy hat.
The band gets louder, and the girls start getting more aggressive with their flags. I watch with caution until someone from the parking lot calls out, “Look, Lacie and Bradley are back together.” Wait, what?
That’s when I let my guard down and get smacked in the face by a flag pole. I lean back and tumble down the tractor and hit the ground. A collective gasp comes from the parking lot, and the music fizzles out.
Lacie is by my side in an instant. “Come help me!” she yells, and Bradley comes down. He hoists me over his shoulder like a duffle bag, which is impressive since we’re relatively the same size. Not my best moment. Then he hauls me across the parking lot to the Piggly Wiggly. Lacie follows behind him. We walk through the automatic doors, and Bradley lays me across the grocery belt like I’m a sack of potatoes.
“Careful, Bradley,” Lacie scolds him.
“Don’t worry, Collins, I’m a paramedic.”
Of course, he is. “And I’m a surgeon.”
Bradley laughs. “Funny.”
“He is a surgeon,” Lacie snaps.
I muster a smile and raise to my elbows. “I just need to rest a minute. Nothing is broken, I assure you.”
Lacie strokes my back and gives me a sympathetic face. “I’ll take you home.”
And let Bradley win? Never. “I’ll be okay.”
No sooner have those words left my mouth than the automatic doors open and an attractive blonde jogs past us best she can in heels and grabs some candy from a shelf. She slaps a twenty-dollar bill on the register beside me. “I forgot my snack.” She clinches her teeth, then turns and walks out.
“Is that normal?” I ask.
“For her, yes,” Bradley answers, as he cranes his head to watch her leave.
I shake my head and focus on sitting up. My leg will be sore tomorrow from hitting the pavement. But other than that, I should be fine. Lacie takes my arm and steadies me as I lift my legs off the belt and slide down to standing. She kisses my cheek and pats my back. “You’re sure you don’t want to go home?”
“I’m sure.” In all honestly, there’s nothing I’d rather do than throw in the towel and have Lacie drive me back to their house and nurse me back to health. But my inner caveman nature won’t allow me to look weak in front of Bradley. Who, according to half the crowd, was once an item with Lacie.
“So, y’all feeling up to going to Mrs. Mary’s?”
Lacie stares at me for an answer, even though I have no clue what Bradley is asking.
“Sure.” Too late to back out now.
With Lacie latched onto my arm, we follow Bradley outside. Someone has parked the tractor in the parking lot, and all the other vehicles are off the street as well. We walk a few blocks down the sidewalk and stop in front of a restaurant with “Diner” etched into a wooden sign.
Bradley opens the door to a room filled with people standing around eating and talking. Lacie leads me to the snack table and hands me a plate. She gently lets go of my arm and picks up a fancy cookie. “You’ve got to try these. My Aunt Carla made them.” She piles a few on my plate. They’re shaped and decorated like different Christmas ornaments. “Oh, and these are my mom’s.” She drops something chocolate beside the cookies.
“Excuse me.” An older man in a bright striped shirt and a huge belt buckle breaks in front of us and puts some sweets in a Styrofoam box. Then he closes the lid and disappears.
We get a few more items and some hot chocolate. When we walk toward a row of booths, several people stare at me and whisper. No doubt I’m the talk of the town with my tractor tumble. I try extra hard not to limp and hide my pain as I crouch into the short booth.
Bradley is in the corner chatting up the pretty blonde. I catch Lacie eyeing him now and again, and I wish I had taken her up on that offer to go home.
Chapter Four
Lacie
* * *
I slide into the backseat of Daddy’s truck and shut the door. Then I scoot closer to Collins and stare out at the Christmas lights as we pull out of the General Store parking lot. Collins reaches for my hand, and suddenly I’m fifteen again, in the back of my parents’ car as they drive me and my boyfriend.
Awkward.
But not nearly as awkward as someone yelling, “Lacie and Bradley are back together,” followed by Collins falling off the tractor.
“Collins, I hope you’re feeling better.” Mama smiles back at us.
“I am, thank you.”
“You hit the ground pretty hard.” Daddy laughs, until he catches my face in the rearview mirror.
“Yes, sir, I did.” Collins raises an eyebrow at me.
“Good thing Bradley was there to pick you up,” Daddy says.
Collins squeezes my hand, and I lean my head on his shoulder. I close my eyes and silently pray for Daddy to shut up. My prayer works, sort of. He doesn’t shut up, but he changes the subject.
“I really thought Mary’s would have more than sweets. Who’s hungry?”
“I can make us some grilled cheese sandwiches when we get home,” Mama says.
Daddy smiles at her, then shakes his head. “How about Wa-Ho?”
“Wa-Ho?” Collins turns to me in confusion.
“Daddy’s pet name for Waffle House.”
Collins nods.
“Is the Waffle House fine with everyone?” Mama looks back at us.
I try not to focus on Mama’s need to put “the” in front of the restaurant name and instead channel my sarcasm elsewhere. “Well, that’s kind of our only choice besides the gas station or Enchilada.”
“Exactly.” Daddy makes eye contact with me in the mirror.
We ride in silence the next few miles, then park in front of Waffle House. I’m surprised to find a decent-sized crowd this time of night, a few days before Christmas. Not so surprising is that they’re all men wearing camouflage.
Daddy stops to talk to them. The rest of us greet them, then find a table near the back. A waitress who’s about the size of an eleven-year-old comes over with menus and asks about drinks. Daddy rushes over and orders coffee, black. He’s the only person I know who can drink coffee at ten p.m. and pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow.
Since I didn’t inherit that trait, nor am I a fan of Wa-Ho coffee, I order water. My vision blurs as I watch the lights change colors on the fiberoptic Christmas tree sitting above the grill.
The waitress comes back with our drinks and gets our food orders. She smiles for the first time, or at least that I notice, revealing a missing front tooth. I cut my eyes toward Collins, curious as to what he thinks about all this. He’s leaned against the back of the booth, relaxed. I pat his knee under the table, and he takes my hand.
“Collin—”
“Collins, Daddy.”
“Sorry, Collins.” He overstresses the “s” and looks my way. I frown. “Would you believe this used to be Lacie Bug’s favorite restaurant?”
Collins turns to me and lifts the corner of his mouth in a playful smirk. I shrug. “I like waffles.”
A minute later, the waitress returns. This time, I notice a barbed wire tattooed across her weathered skin. I’m guessing there’s a story behind that. She sets plates all around, and Daddy bows his head before she even walks away.
He voices a quick prayer, then immediately digs into his hash browns. Thankfully, what I did inherit from him was a good metabolism. Although, I haven’t eaten a plate full of anything this late since undergrad. I wake up so early that it messes with my sleep.
Daddy takes a big gulp of coffee and sighs. Mama shakes her head. “I don’t know how Joey drinks coffee this late.”
“Or how he drinks this coffee, especially black,” I add.
“Not every coffee has to cost ten bucks and come in an eco-friendly mermaid cup.”
Collins’s eyebrows squish together in confusion. I lean closer and whisper, “That’s his way of making fun of my Starbucks habit.”
He lifts his chin and unfurrows his brow. Then he elbows me under the table. He’s always telling me I spend too much on coffee, too.
We start eating, with the ambiance of the deer hunters laughing behind us and dishes being slung in the sink at the grill. Typical late night in Wisteria.
Mama chatters about anything and everything to do with me growing up. Either G-Maw never embarrassed her like this, or she’s forgotten how it feels. I muster through it until she mentions something about senior prom. Not that prom was bad, but she had to include that Bradley was my date.
As she continues, I chew my waffle and hope Collins overlooked that detail. He didn’t.
“You went to prom with Bradley. Is that why people were saying you were back together?”
I choke on my waffle and scramble for my water like someone backpacking through the Sahara beneath the midday sun. The cold liquid dislodges the syrupy mush caught in my throat, but still makes me cough.
Before I can steer the conversation elsewhere, Daddy steps in. Or more like steps on his tongue. “Nah, I think they said that because we all thought they’d get married.”
Now, I’m coughing so loudly that I can’t catch my breath. Mama’s eyes widen with concern. I finally manage to catch a breath when she hits Daddy in the chest.
