Merry Little Hate Notes

Chapter Twenty

brANDON

“DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE picked these out in that market in Hamburg?” Holly asked her father, radiating happiness while holding up an old wooden box filled with blown glass ornaments of Santa, cottages, and roses. She sat on the floor near what she called the perfect tree that had only taken her two hours to decide on. We’d already strung the tree with strands of warm lights. Their glow illuminated Holly and the dusty crates surrounding her that probably hadn’t seen the light of day in at least a decade. Andy Williams crooned Christmas tunes on Dr. Harry’s old record player. Holly believed that only Andy Williams or Bing Crosby were worthy to provide the soundtrack for Christmas tree decorating. “I wanted a traditional German tree that year, since that’s where Christmas trees originated.”

“I remember. We cut out paper flowers that year and you hung apples on the tree while Christian and Brandon almost burned down the house when they decided the tree needed lit candles.” Dr. Harry gave me a knowing look.

I offered him a chagrined smile. “In our defense, lit candles were traditional, and we were the ones who put out the fire, as well as replaced the half-charred tree.”

“And whose tree did you chop down?” Holly asked impishly.

“Once again, in our defense, no one lived on that property yet, and my mom made us replace the tree when she found out.” Christian and I really had been idiots. It’s a miracle we hadn’t gotten in more trouble growing up—or been caught. What I wouldn’t do to get in trouble with him now. I probably was in trouble with him. Every time I looked at Holly, I could hear him cursing my name. Oddly, I found it comforting. I needed to hear his voice, even if he was angry with me. I’d been running from it for too long.

Holly laughed. It was the best sound in the world. Unable to resist being close to her any longer, I launched myself off the couch, pushed a crate out of the way, and joined her on the floor. The smell of pine filled my nose. It was the best smell, in Holly’s estimation.

Dr. Harry observed us from an old leather chair I remembered from his study long ago. His wise eyes said he knew exactly how I felt about his daughter. I had a feeling he’d always known. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be against it—if anything, I think he approved. “I think I’m going to go make some cocoa for everyone.” He stood and gave me a wink, as if to say, Good luck and carry on.

“Extra marshmallows, please,” Holly called out to his retreating figure. “Also, there’s peppermint syrup in the cupboard above the stove. Thank you.” She glanced my way and blushed. “I know it’s juvenile.”

“I was thinking more like adorable.”

She nudged me with her shoulder.

I longed to embrace her and kiss her lips under the glow of the Christmas tree lights, but I wasn’t sure when the best time would be to bring up that I was the worst sort of prick. I kept waiting for her to bring it up. Why hadn’t she? I worried she was afraid to ask—or worse, knew it was bad and would be the end of this fire we’d ignited between us. Or maybe she just wanted to move on from the past. Although the Holly I knew would never let what I did to her slide. But telling her the truth now, when she was clearly so happy, didn’t seem right either.

So, I did the only thing I could do: I nudged her back. It was a real smooth move.

She giggled, but there was something in her laugh that said she was making fun of me. Did she know I was purposely keeping my hands off her ?

“Can you hand me that crate? I want to see what’s in it.” She pointed to my left.

“Of course.” I reached over and easily lifted the dusty wooden crate before setting it in front of her.

“I’m not sure what theme I want to go with this year. I thought I would take out all the decorations and then we could decide.”

“Sounds good.”

Holly opened the crate like an excited child opening a gift on Christmas morning. Her beautiful smiling face filled with anticipation as she removed the layer of packing material protecting the ornaments inside. But then, as if a switch had flipped, all the light in her eyes went out, and her face fell when she pulled out a red box. “I didn’t know this was in here,” her voice trembled.

“What is it?” I was more than concerned. I wondered at first if it was something of Christian’s, but he didn’t seem to haunt Holly like he haunted me.

“They’re bride ornaments,” she whispered. “My dad had these specially made for my mother during their engagement. I didn’t know he’d kept these.” She dropped the box back in the crate as if it physically hurt her to keep holding it.

I wanted to ask her what had happened to her mother and why they were estranged, but Dr. Harry walked back in with two steaming mugs of cocoa.

Holly quickly threw the packing material back over the box and plastered on a fake smile. “Hey, Dad.”

Her dad’s smile indicated he hadn’t seen the box. “Here’s your cocoa.” He set both mugs on the coffee table. “I forgot I still have some final grades to turn in, so I’m going to leave you two to handle the rest of the decorating.” Dr. Harry was as terrible an actor as my parents were—he wasn’t fooling anyone. Not that I didn’t appreciate the alone time with Holly.

“Okay. Thanks, Dad,” Holly said, abnormally pitchy.

“Good night.” Dr. Harry waved.

Once he was gone, Holly sat in a daze, staring at the crate.

I scooted closer to her and took her shaking hand. “Do you want to talk about it? ”

“Yes. No,” she immediately corrected.

I placed her hand between my own and caressed it. “I’m here,” I offered, not knowing what else to say, especially since I wondered if I was to blame. All the what-ifs I’d been asking myself for years bombarded me. What if I hadn’t asked Christian to go skiing? What if I’d told him he shouldn’t be drinking? What if I’d never given him that first beer when we were seventeen?

She leaned her head on my shoulder and exhaled loudly. We sat like that for several minutes while neither of us said anything.

Her sniffles broke the silence, and her tears seeped through my shirt.

“Holly,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

I had to own up to what I could. Not everything. Not yet. “I never should have let Christian on the slopes that day. I knew he’d been drinking. It’s my fault he hit that tree and your family fell apart,” I choked out. “You can blame me.”

She lifted her head, tears streaming down her creamy cheeks, tinted rose to match her lips. “Brandon.” She blinked back her tears. “Honestly, I used to blame you for stealing Christian. He’d promised to spend that day with me. But you called, and he always chose you.”

“He loved you,” I tried to assure her, even though the guilt was eating me alive. More so now that I knew Christian should have stayed home that day.

“I know the jerk did,” she half laughed, half cried. “But I really needed to talk to him that day. I saw something at your parents’ Christmas party, and I didn’t know what to do. He’s the only person who would have known what to do. Then he was gone, and I never got to tell him. I’ve told no one, and it’s killing me.”

My mind raced with what she could have seen at my parents’ party to make her so upset. I reached up and ran the back of my hand down her wet cheek, wanting to make it better. “You can tell me.”

She closed her eyes and held her breath for several seconds before letting it out slowly and deliberately. “Brandon, it’s not your fault my family broke up,” she stuttered through her shuddering. “My mom,” she could hardly say .

“What about your mom?” I asked when she didn’t finish her thought.

Holly opened her eyes and peered directly into mine, begging for me to help her get the words out.

I cupped her cheek with my hand. “Whatever it is, I’ll make it better,” I promised, not knowing how to keep that promise, but I sure as hell would find a way.

She leaned into my hand. “I always loved helping your mom at the party,” she began bravely. “That night she asked me to run down to your basement and grab a platter of shrimp from the extra refrigerator. You know, the one in your game room.”

I nodded, remembering and letting her know I was here for whatever she had to say.

“Of course you know which one I’m talking about,” she said nervously. “Anyway, I ran down, happy to help. But ... when I got down there, I saw my mom and Mr. Garrison embracing each other in a darkened corner of the great room in your basement.”

“Mr. Garrison, the contractor who built our houses and lived down the street?” He and his family had moved away several years ago. I wonder if this had played a part in it.

“That’s him.”

“What were they doing down there?” I stupidly asked.

“I’m sure it wasn’t the lie they told me. They broke apart as soon as they saw me. Then my mom spluttered about how he was showing her the subbasement he’d designed for your house and that she was interested in doing something similar to ours. But I knew she was lying. It was evident from her flushed face and shaking hands there was something going on between them. Mr. Garrison wouldn’t even look at me. He left and ran upstairs, leaving me and my mom to stare at each other. I didn’t know what to say. All I did was look at her in disbelief, feeling like I was going to vomit.”

I felt sick for her. I would never have guessed that Mrs. St. James would cheat on her husband. They’d always come off as a couple very much in love. “Did you say anything to her?” I asked delicately.

“She wouldn’t let me. She kept rambling and then she ran off as well. I didn’t even bring the shrimp up to your mom.” Holly fell against me.

I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s doubtful my mom even remembers that.”

“I still feel bad.”

I chuckled somberly. “Don’t. I’m the one who feels awful.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“I have for many years, especially now. I’m sorry you’ve carried this with you all this time. You never told your dad?”

“I couldn’t. Christian died the next day, and it devastated him. He loved my mom so much, I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.”

“What about your mom?”

“She got quiet. She would hardly look at me or talk to me. Every time I tried to bring up what I’d seen, she would get defensive and tell me I just needed to let it go. That I didn’t know what I was talking about. She had enough to deal with, she would say. Meanwhile, I was trying to cope with Christian’s death and her betrayal, all while watching my father fall apart. I think, in the end, the guilt got to her and she left. But she used the excuse of my dad’s drinking.”

“So she left you to pick up the pieces?” What the hell? “Do you have any contact with her?”

“Not for a long time. For a few years after the divorce, she would call once in a while to check up on me and to ask if I needed any money. My pride always said no. They weren’t pleasant calls. I was angry and scared, and I lashed out. I felt like she was gaslighting me.”

“She was.” I was angry on Holly’s behalf. “Did she know what you were going through?”

“I’m sure she did, which probably made her feel even more guilty. Eventually she stopped trying, and I did my best to stop loving her, but I’ve failed miserably,” she choked out. “Sometimes I miss her so much, even more than Christian. I think it’s because he didn’t purposely leave me. And sometimes I wonder if my mom was ever the person I had once thought I wanted to be like more than anyone in the world.”

Ah. Now it made sense why Holly hadn’t become a lawyer. It wasn’t because she’d been trying to save her dad, although I’m sure that played a part. But her hero had betrayed her .

I stroked her hair, holding her head against my chest, wishing I could take away her pain. “Holly, I’m so sorry you felt like you had to keep this to yourself all these years. I should have been there for you.”

“You should have been,” she said with no ill intent, just a deep hurt. “I would have liked that. ”

It was official—I was the world’s biggest prick. How was I ever going to tell her that I’d lied to her too?