Holly versus Mr. Ivy by Amanda P. Jones
Chapter 25
Holly
than being fed by your crush. Especially when he zoned out, and you had to ask for another bite. What had happened to make Rhett stare at his plate like that? Did I chew with my mouth open? Were my bites too big? Did seeing inside my mouth make him shudder?
He played off his distraction, but I couldn’t eat as much as I wanted to after that. When I was satisfied instead of stuffed as full as the turkey on the table, I told Rhett I was finished. After everyone else ate, Trevor, Mom, and Rhett cleaned up dinner and did the dishes, then Trevor hauled up the artificial Christmas tree from the basement plus the six totes of ornaments.
I’d offered to buy Mom a pre-lit tree, but she’d declined since the one we used every year was the tree Mom and Dad had bought the first Christmas Trevor was born. With Dad now gone, the tree held extra special meaning, and I wouldn’t dare to get rid of it despite the meticulous fluffing of each branch and the hassle of untangling four strands of lights to wind around it.
Mom turned on Christmas carols while Trevor and Rhett got the fake fir nestled in its holder. I stood there directing the men on where to place the tree so it was centered in the front formal living room window. My hands still ached from the burns I’d earned while saving the turkey. Going to the ER was probably a good idea, but since the blisters weren’t broken and I’d taken ibuprofen, what else would they do for me at the hospital, except bill me an astronomical amount?
I really hoped my hands wouldn’t take too long to heal either. We only had five weeks to reach our goal, and the last update Rhett had given Aaron and me hadn’t been promising. I needed to be able to work, not stand around watching my employees do everything.
And how was I going to shower, wash my hair, dress myself, and take care of Mom like usual?
“Oh, it looks perfect!” Mom clapped her hands in glee, staring at the tree now lit up with colored lights.
I liked white lights, but Mom loved the multi-colored strands, and that’s what we used every year. Our decorations had stayed the same since I was a kid. When I moved out, my tree would look like an Instagram influencer’s, with giant ribbon, various sized bulbs, wood signs, and sprigs of berries.
Trevor opened the first tote, sliding it in front of Mom. “Have at it.”
Mom bent down, picking up the ornament on top. She held a hand to her heart, her eyes turning glassy. “Oh, look Trevor, it’s your handprint from first grade.”
Okay, so maybe I needed two Christmas trees. One to be pretty and one for family memories and mementos. I knelt in front of the tote, peering inside. A homemade wreath ornament I’d colored in second grade rested on top, a photo of me, wearing reindeer antlers and a gap-toothed smile, glued to the middle. I remembered bringing this home and how proud I had been for coloring inside the lines and gluing the small red pom-poms to look like berries in a symmetrical pattern.
“You’re adorable,” Rhett said, standing above me.
“It feels like yesterday and yet so long ago, too. How am I thirty-one instead of seven?”
“Wait.” Rhett’s eyes widened. “You’re thirty-one?” he asked incredulously.
Why had Rhett said it like that? How old had he thought I was? “Yes,” I hedged.
He grinned. “You’re older than me.”
Really? “How old are you?”
He clasped his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. “Guess.”
I stood, studying his face. From the laugh lines around his eyes, the strong build of his body, and thick facial hair, I’d say he wasn’t too far off from my age. “Twenty-eight?” Anything less than twenty-seven and I’d seriously have to reconsider the growing feelings I had for Rhett. I refused to be a cougar.
“Close. I’m thirty.”
Months separated us. That was nothing. “When’s your birthday?”
“January twenty-ninth.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “I’m barely five months older than you. My birthday is in August.”
“I’ve always wanted a summer birthday,” he said wistfully.
I wrinkled my nose. “Yeah, I bet a January birthday is hard.”
“Better than December, but yeah, it’s not the best.” Rhett bent down, picking up an ornament out of the tote and brushing my side as he did so. Tingles skipped along my skin, just like they had when we’d made sandwiches in the kitchen. And when he’d hugged me in the bathroom. Seriously, how had I not been electrocuted by this point?
He held a miniature Christmas tree I’d glued together with painted green popsicle sticks. Without needing to look at the ornament, I remembered the words written on it in red Sharpie: Tilly, the beach, fireworks, swimming pool, American Girl doll, and ice skating. Our fifth-grade teacher had us write our favorite things from that year on our tree. The words brought back each memory.
“Do you remember what this means?” Rhett asked, holding the ornament in front of me.
“I do.” I sat on the floor, my legs crossed with the backs of my hands resting on my knees, my back against the couch. Rhett took a seat next to me. “Tilly was my best friend who lived next door. We were inseparable until she moved away in seventh grade.” I still sometimes wondered what had happened to her. When I joined social media, I tried finding her, but none of the profiles with her name had matched her face.
“The beach referred to the vacation we took that year to South Carolina. I never wanted to leave. I loved searching for seashells and chasing the waves.” If I closed my eyes, I could almost remember the smell of salt and fish.
“The fireworks happened on the night of the Fourth of July while we were in South Carolina. I’d never seen such a beautiful display of art in the sky. Someone on the beach next to us had music playing. It really hit me for the first time how truly blessed I was to live in the land of the free and the home of the brave.”
Rhett didn’t interrupt once, just kept his attention on me as I recounted each item on my popsicle stick Christmas tree.
“The swimming pool was for Tilly’s grandparents’ house. She’d invited me over for a sleepover in the summer, and they had a pool in their backyard. We swam the entire time, only coming out to eat and sleep. I remember being the best kind of tired when bedtime rolled around that night.
“For my eleventh birthday, my parents gifted me my first All-American Girl doll. Her long black hair and blue eyes matched my own. She wore a denim skirt and a pink shirt. My parents also gifted me the same outfit so we’d match. I still have her.” I kept her tucked in a box on the top shelf of my bedroom closet. One day, I’d give her to my own daughter.
“The ice skating happened only the weekend before I made the ornament. I’d never been before. Mom said I was too young to try it in previous winters. I fell in love with the sound of the blades cutting through the ice, the cold wind in my hair, and the feeling of speed.”
Looking back, I wished I’d kept a similar ornament for every year of my life.
“Sounds like you had a wonderful childhood.”
Mom snorted. “She was spoiled.”
I didn’t know any different, but I guessed Trevor and I were. From what Rhett had said about his childhood, we were paupers. But I couldn’t complain about my youth. I’d never lacked for anything. “If you made an ornament like this today, what would your favorites from this year be?” I asked Rhett.
He scrubbed a hand along his jaw. “That’s tough. For sure The Boardwalk.”
I lifted a brow, surprised work had made the list.
“Santorini. My health.” His eyes darted to Trevor and Mom, who ignored us as they kept hanging decorations. “You,” he said softly.
What? For a moment I was jealous he’d been to Greece, but that last item took priority. My pulse raced as if I’d started to climb Mount Chogori. Did he mean me as his friend, or something else? I studied his warm brown eyes. Desire radiated from his soft gaze fixed on me.
Breathing became difficult. I wanted more with Rhett. But I was also freaked out. I hadn’t had a relationship in a long time and never with someone like Rhett. And there was still the matter of our jobs. Despite the obstacles, I was feeling bold after the tender way he’d cared for me earlier. “You’d make my list, too.”
Rhett’s lips pulled up into the biggest smile.
“Will you two stop the disgusting sappiness already?” Trevor complained. “There are other people present.”
Yikes. We really had to watch how we interacted around other people. No matter what Rhett and I wanted, we couldn’t allow others to see us as anything more than friends.
“I didn’t realize talking was sappy, Trevor. But we’ll stop.” Rhett shot me a look that said for now. He stood, placing my memory ornament on the Christmas tree. Rhett snatched another ornament and placed it on a high branch. With Mom and Trevor present, we kept further conversation light. I got lost in the lyrics of the Christmas music playing in the background, the shared memories with each new bulb unpacked from a tote, and the feeling of contentment wrapping my heart like a warm blanket.
When the Christmas tree was finished, Trevor and Rhett moved the boxes and totes back to the basement. Mom excused herself for bed. She’d worn herself out today between cooking and decorating. I hoped we hadn’t pushed her too hard.
Using my elbows instead of my hands, I slid under the bottom of the tree, flipping onto my back, and stared up through the branches, admiring the way the lights reflected off the ornaments and remembering doing this exact thing with Dad every Christmas. Stars, I missed him.
Rhett’s head appeared next to mine. “What are you doing down here?”
“Where’s Trevor?” I asked instead of answering.
“Telling your mom goodnight. He said he was heading out soon. Though why he’s leaving before we’ve had pie is beyond me.”
“Mom and I already had some for breakfast. I’m sure Trevor will take some home with him.” I crossed one ankle over the other. “Thanks for coming today and for all your help.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” His elbow nudged my arm. “Will you answer my question?”
I closed my eyes for a moment. “When I was little, my dad would always have us crawl under the tree when we finished decorating it. He loved the view from the bottom. ‘A new perspective,’ he’d always say.
“He said sometimes we get so used to the ordinary that it became another background piece we walked past and forgot to appreciate. By looking at it from another angle, we renewed our appreciation for the beauty of the tree. I think he meant it more as a life lesson. To make sure we weren’t being complacent or only focusing on the same old things, day in and out.”
Rhett’s words came out soft. Gentle. “Your dad sounds like an amazing man.”
I blinked rapidly, clearing the tears trying to gather in my eyes. “He was. I miss him.”
“Tell me more about him.”
An image of Dad on our family trip to Florida, in his awful fuchsia and teal flower shirt, tan cargo shorts, and sandals flashed in my mind. I had been so embarrassed to walk by him. His outfit screamed tourist and uncool dad, neither a look I’d wanted to be associated with. In hindsight, I wished I’d cared less about appearances and enjoyed his company more.
“He told the worst jokes.” I chuckled. “Most of the time, they didn’t even make sense, but we’d all end up laughing because Dad’s laugh was like a yawn—once he started, it was contagious. He’d always come into my room at night and read me a book and ask how I planned to tackle the next day. Once Mom was diagnosed and we had to track her schedule, I relied on the techniques my dad taught me to keep everything straight.”
Rhett’s knee bumped my leg. “You’re doing a good job with your mom. She seems as happy as she can be given her circumstances.”
My lack of sleep and busy day caught up to me. No other reason explained why I spilled my guts to Rhett. Things I usually kept to myself, even with Noah, who knew almost everything about me.
“I feel like a failure,” I whispered. “Like I’m not doing enough to help her. In my head, it’s my fault she got sick to begin with and my fault she’s not healing faster. If only I’d been better at organizing our lives earlier, or a better daughter, she’d never have been diagnosed with cancer in the first place. It’s the same at work. If I don’t keep everyone on track at all times, then the kitchen will fall apart. I’m rigid because when I’ve been more relaxed, my life shattered around me. I’m stuck picking up the pieces and I’m not doing a great job at it. I’m tired, mentally and emotionally. Well, physically too. I’m trying to control everything, and it’s like sand trickling through my hands. No matter how hard I try to hold on, it inevitably drains out.”
Rhett turned his head, his gaze on the side of my face. “There is nothing you have done or could have done differently to prevent your mom from getting sick. From what I’ve seen, you’re a fantastic caregiver. As for work, you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. Aaron, Nico, and Kevin are there. We want to help you. It’s okay to let go of the fist you’re holding and take our hands instead.”
“I feel like I have been doing that already.”
“You’ve made a lot of progress. I’m proud of you for all you’ve accomplished. But I can tell that you fear truly allowing others in.”
“I can’t just make everyone else do my job for me.” If I did, then what was there left for me to do?
“That’s not what I’m suggesting.”
I turned, meeting his gaze. “Then what are you saying?”
“You keep this shield up at work. It’s as if you feel by sharing any part of your personal life, people will see you as something other than the boss. When you just told me about your dad, your whole face lit up. Stop hiding that part of yourself, and let everyone else see the amazing woman I see.”
I didn’t know how to let others in. I’d kept my professional and personal lives separate because it was easier for me to deal with each issue on its own. By turning off the stress, worry, and fears over Mom while at work, it was easier to function. If the faucet was on full blast at all times, what happened if I completely shut down in the middle of my shift?
What Rhett was asking was too much.
I rolled my head away from Rhett. “My boundaries keep me safe.”
“Or do they keep you locked up like a prisoner?”
He didn’t understand how easy it would be to fall apart without my protections in place. Besides, I’d been doing better. I may not share about myself at work, but I did laugh with my staff. I let them talk about whatever they wanted instead of demanding silence like I used to. Wasn’t that enough?
And why was I the only one being asked difficult questions? “You seem to have all the answers about my life, but what about yours? Tell me why you hide behind your flirtatious behavior and happy-go-lucky personality.” And what happened that night I took you home?