Home > A Seagrove Christmas(8)

A Seagrove Christmas(8)
Author: Rachel Hanna

The last few days of Carrie being there had been difficult, to say the least. She barely uttered five words a day to Dixie, but Harry didn’t see it. Not wanting to cause a rift between Harry and his daughter, Dixie had smiled and played along.

“Thanks,” Carrie said, stepping out onto the porch with a cup of coffee in her hand. She was still wearing her day clothes, a thick gray sweater and a pair of jeans. She sat down in one of the white wicker rockers Dixie kept on her porch and took a sip of her coffee, warming her hands on the sides of the mug.

“I hope you enjoyed dinner.” Dixie had made her famous country fried steak with gravy and homemade biscuits. It was her favorite meal to make, and Harry said it’s what kept “meat on his bones” even with Parkinson’s.

“It was good. Thanks.”

The silence was deafening. Those uncomfortable pauses in conversation had always been hard for Dixie. She liked to hear people talking, laughing, interacting. When it was quiet, she struggled with what to say and do.

“So, any idea how long you plan to stay?”

Carrie looked at her, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Is there a time limit?”

Dixie put her hand on her chest. “Of course not. I didn’t mean it that way…”

“It sounds like you’re ready for me to leave.”

Oh, now she’d really stepped in it. “No. Your father is really enjoying you being here.”

“Just my father, though, right? I mean, let’s be honest, Dixie. You’re not enjoying my presence here at all.”

Dixie bit her lips, trying not to let her feisty southern side out. That was a part of her personality she tried to keep under wraps unless she was fighting with a bill collector or talking to the IRS. “Carrie, I’d like to be honest with you.”

“Please do.”

The tension was so thick that Dixie was sure she could cut it with the dullest of butter knives. “I’ve felt very uncomfortable since you got here.”

“Well, at least you’re admitting it,” she said, her voice monotone.

“And it’s not because I didn’t want you here. I was quite excited, actually. And nervous. But, since you’ve been here, I feel anxious in my own home, and that just isn’t okay.”

“Excuse me?” Again, Carrie looked at her like she’d never had anyone be honest with her in her life.

“Honey, I love your father more than I can describe. I lost my first husband decades ago, and I swore to never marry again. It’s not like I didn’t have opportunities, you see. But, Harry just gets me. He understands me. He complements me, and I like to think I complement him too. And the one thing I wanted to give him was you.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, for some reason, you can’t stand me. I get it. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but I am your daddy’s wife, and I won’t be disrespected in my own home.”

Carrie scoffed and rolled her eyes before standing up. “Then I’ll leave in the morning.” She turned toward the door.

“No, please don’t. That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Dixie was so afraid she was going to pack up and take off.

“Then what are you saying?”

“Please, sit back down. Please.”

Carrie sucked in a sharp breath and sat back down on the edge of the rocker. “You know, I haven’t seen my dad much in the last few years. We had words a few times, and we’d just started rebuilding our relationship when…”

“When I came along?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Darlin’, you’re a grown woman. Certainly, you don’t worry that I’ll take your daddy away from you?”

“No. That’s not it.”

“Do you think I’m trying to replace your mom? Because I’m not.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Dixie leaned back. “So, it truly is that you just don’t like me?”

Carrie chuckled under her breath. “You are a little much sometimes, with your jewelry and bejeweled sweaters. But, it’s not that I dislike you.”

“Then what is it?” Dixie asked, throwing her hands in the air.

“I guess I’ve been holding something against you, and maybe it’s not your fault.”

“What?”

Carrie set her coffee cup on the wicker table next to her and leaned back in the chair. “I’ve always wanted to take care of my dad, but we had a rift for a long time. When we worked things out, I finally asked him to come stay with me in California. I bought a house with a guest suite all set up for him. Then, he told me no. Said he’d met a woman who wanted to travel like he did.”

“Oh…”

“He’s got a disease. I’m worried about him. I want to take care of him, get him the best medical treatment…”

“So, you want him to be your patient?”

“What?”

Dixie smiled. “Carrie, your daddy is still a vibrant man. He’d never want to live with his child and be taken care of like an invalid.”

“I didn’t call him an invalid!”

“You know him. That’s what he’d feel like. Look, we both have Parkinson’s. We see skilled doctors here. And we take care of each other. We’re living our best lives! Who knows how much time we have left, but at least we’ll spend it kicking up our heels and having fun! I mean, we might fall down or fling salt all over the kitchen, but we’re living.”

Carrie laughed. “You’re quite a character, Dixie.”

“I’ll agree with that. So, can we start over? What do you say?”

“As long as you take care of Dad and always let me see him, I think we can make this work.”

Dixie smiled. “Oh, sugar, I would never try to keep you from seeing your daddy! I just want us to be friends, that’s all.”

“I need another cup of this amazing peppermint coffee. Care for a cup?”

Dixie stood up to follow her into the house. “I need decaf, because the Lord knows I don’t need an extra pep in my step before bed!”

 

 

Chapter Four

 

 

Julie opened the drapes and allowed the bright sunlight to envelop the living room. She loved early morning, especially now that Dylan was out of school for winter break. The beams of sunlight danced across the hardwood floors, warming them for her son’s fast little feet that would run across it soon.

She sat down on the antique sofa - not her favorite - and took her first sip of coffee, her slippered feet resting on the mahogany coffee table in front of her. While she loved the history of her new home, she wasn’t a fan of the furnishings. Dawson had kept them because they belonged to his grandmother, so Julie wasn’t about to say anything.

“Good morning,” Tina whispered as she came down the staircase.

They’d had a nice dinner together the night before, although Tina was definitely quiet. She was one of those people that you could tell had a turbulent history and was trying to get her footing now. Julie found those kinds of people interesting. Maybe it was because she worked in a bookstore, or maybe it was because she was writing her first novel, but she always wondered about those kinds of stories. What made people tick? What complex backgrounds had caused them to become who they were?

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