Their high school hadn’t changed in any way, except for the new sign out front. Josh had first said I love you to her on one otherwise normal day during the spring semester of their senior year. They’d been in the hallway together. The bell had already rung and kids had been hurrying past them. She and Josh had been about to part and go in opposite directions when he’d pulled her back to him.
“I love you,” he’d said. And he’d said it with the most solemn seriousness, as if he’d been unable to wait another minute to tell her, as if he was about to be shipped overseas to fight a battle, as if he was dying. And Holly had felt like she was dying, too, except from bliss and lack of oxygen because he’d stolen all her breath.
Then he’d smiled a crooked smile at her. She’d known she loved him before he’d said the words. But it was that crooked smile there in that school hallway that had settled the matter in her heart.
Sam would definitely not approve of her Josh Memory Tour.
Sighing, Holly turned onto the road that wound past a park and picnic area at the edge of Lake Cypress Bend. The sun had just set but full darkness hadn’t yet descended. She parked and went to sit on top of a vacant picnic table.
The bulbs on the light posts glowed through the hazy evening, making their illumination appear soft, round, enchanted. Several families dotted the area, some at the playground, some at the lakeshore or on the dock, fishing. Everyone had bundled up to ward off the chill. The children’s voices carried on the same breeze that spun leaves from their branches.
She and Josh had sat here, on this exact table, numerous times. This had been their spot. Sometimes they’d come here to eat. Sometimes, just to hang out and talk. She’d sat here with him, her head resting on his shoulder, contentment weaving circles around and around her. She could recall how he’d kissed her, and how her body had rushed in response with the joy and awe of it.
A twig cracked behind her and she swung to face the direction with a gasp. Josh?
The twig had been broken by two kids, kicking up leaves.
Rob just asked you out. Your neighbor and friend, Rob, who is a very decent person and good-looking to boot. Think about Rob, Holly. Think about Rob.
Holly came to understand, in very clear detail, why Sam scorned the idea of waiting by the phone for a man to call. Sam scorned it because living that way stunk.
Even though Holly knew Josh wouldn’t call, she took her phone with her everywhere. It was ridiculous. Josh had no reason to call her. He no longer needed help planning the rehearsal dinner.
Nonetheless, when she slipped into bed at night, she rested her cell phone within arm’s reach on her bedside table. She double-checked it frequently throughout the day to ensure that it was charged and prepared to receive a text message or a call from Josh.
Neither came.
She looked for him when she drove around town and each time she entered a shop or restaurant, without success.
Her rational mind knew that remaining separate from him was the best possible thing for the preservation of her well-being. Her irrational heart, however, couldn’t get over the fact that she’d never again have this sort of proximity with him. Josh’s time in Martinsburg was vanishing.
The days leading up to Thanksgiving, beautiful days gilded with autumn, should have been too full to dwell on Josh. Her wedding coordinator duties had kicked into fourth gear thanks to Mitzi’s astonishing doggedness. Her work on her book had intensified too. Like a round stone that had topped a rise and begun to roll downhill, her plot was picking up speed. She had blog posts to write for her website and marketing to catch up on.
In pursuit of their Year of Restaurants quest, Holly and Sam hit Martinsburg’s only Indian food joint and then the most girly sandwich/salad/soup restaurant the town had to offer.
Holly and Rob’s dessert date had gone smoothly. In fact, it had been much like their group outings, minus other humans. There’d been chocolate pie, but no romantic feelings on Holly’s part. Rob had asked her out again afterward, but since she didn’t know how she felt about more one-on-one dates with him yet, she’d declined.
The day before Thanksgiving, Holly’s immediate family (and her sister’s fabulous new boyfriend) poured into Martinsburg. In tandem with their arrival, great, low-lying banks of clouds rolled over central Texas and coated the town with a steady drizzle. The precipitation escalated on Thursday to rain that alternated from light to downpour.
As was their tradition, the Morgans sat down together in their family home for a formal Thanksgiving meal of turkey and all the fixings, served on Holly’s mother’s Lennox wedding china.