“I’m surprised you don’t mind missing the concert,” Joe said.

It took Holly a minute to realize that Rhett playing guitar in a barn was a concert for someone like Joe. She hadn’t stopped to think about the fact that strangers paid money to see him strum his guitar and sing out his poetry. It was odd, since she’d seen him do it as long as she’d known him—every day.

“I’ve been around his music my whole life, so, for me, it’s not a big deal.”

The clouds had finally moved out, and the sky was an inky black, the stars like twinkle lights above them. Holly’s breath dissipated in front of her as she looked up to view them, the reality of having Rhett so close causing her to feel the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She stepped over the edge of the walk into the snow, deciding she should probably fill Joe in just a little, although she was leaving Otis’s barn to get her mind off Rhett. “When Rhett got famous, he left, without a trace. That made me angry because no matter how big he got, I felt like he should remember where he came from and the fact that there are people here who loved him before he was a headliner on some stage.”

“Mmm,” Joe said in agreement, but it seemed as though he were thinking about something more. He took another one of his deep breaths and Holly wondered if it was his way of clearing his mind—he did it a lot. “I like how welcoming everyone is here. You seem to have closer relationships with your friends than I do with my own family.”

That was saying something, since Holly hadn’t even seen these people in quite a while. But she had a history with them all, and that united them. “I suppose you’re right: they are like family. It’s as if each one of them is a favorite cousin, but you never get to see them. You could go years and then just pick up where you left off.”

She saw a slight wrinkle form between his eyes and then disappear. Perhaps he couldn’t just pick up where he left off with his family. Then she remembered something he’d said. “Did you mention that you don’t talk to your dad?”

His body immediately tensed up and he looked out ahead of them. “Yeah… Where are we headed?” he asked, changing the subject, his navy coat making his dark eyes look incredible in the low light.

“Behind the barn. There’s something I want to show you.”

He seemed cautious about her answer, following slowly, their boots sinking into the snow beneath them. The whiskey made her a little more gregarious than usual, and Holly took his arm to speed him up, her excitement getting the better of her. Whatever it was on his mind about his father left just then and he smiled that smile of his as he looked down at Holly, only adding to her eagerness. She couldn’t wait to show him.

They rounded the corner, and there it was, one of her favorite places: two rows of trees lined up, their trunks hundreds of years old, their branches interwoven above in a vast snow-covered archway that stretched the length of a football field. Holly took a second to admire it before she pulled Joe into it and they started walking toward the large stone fire pit in the center. She’d always wondered what it would look like if someone could weave Christmas lights on the branches way up there. But right now, the moonlight off the snow was causing just enough sparkle to do the job. When they arrived at the fire pit, she pulled the cover off the top of it and set it on one of the benches nearby.

“It won’t catch the trees on fire?” Joe asked, tilting his head back to view the enormous branches above them.

Holly flipped the little wheel on the lighter until it sparked. “No, the branches are too high.” She held the flame down near one of the logs. When it finally caught hold and began to spread to the other logs, she pulled the bench close enough to feel its heat, brushed the snow off it, and sat down.

“This is incredible,” Joe said, his eyes on the lines of trees on either side of them as he lowered himself beside her.

“It’s been here for generations. Otis’s great-great-grandfather planted them. In the summer, the branches are covered in bright green leaves, the sunlight shining through them. It’s so beautiful.”

When she turned, Joe was looking at her intently, nodding, and she felt the flutter again. No one else had ever seemed so attentive to the things in her life before. It made her feel interesting, and she knew that she didn’t want him to leave after this and never see her again. Even after the wedding, she wanted to know Joe for a long time. She ignored the if-only that niggled the back of her mind and realized that, no matter what, he was someone with whom she had a deep connection, like they’d been meant to be in each other’s lives. Maybe this was the start of a great friendship.

“My papa first showed this to me. Otis is one of his really good friends.” She hadn’t expected it, but being there under the trees, the memory of Otis and Papa sharing stories, her sitting on Papa’s lap, her arms stretched behind her to grab the back of his neck, the scruff on his face abrasive against her arms—it made her emotional and the prick of tears caught her off guard. She turned to the fire as if she were warming her hands and tried to get the lump out of her throat.

Joe leaned on his knees. “I’d like to meet Otis,” he said softly. She found it charming whenever he did that: his voice seemed to change tone naturally to her moods. It made her wish he’d share more about who he was because he was so fascinating to her that she wanted to know everything about him. It all brought her emotions right to the surface.

Holly cleared her throat.

She hadn’t seen Otis yet tonight, and she’d love nothing more than to spend some time with him. She ran her hand along the icy bench where Papa and Otis had talked about so many things: the weather report, the growth of the area, or even Papa’s thoughts on Holly’s latest boyfriends—Otis was always in her corner on that one. Sometimes, on warm summer nights, they’d just exist beside each other in silence and watch the lightning bugs. She hadn’t realized how much she loved sitting there until now.

“You miss your grandfather.” He hadn’t asked. It had been a statement, an observation.

She nodded.

There was that smile again. “I’m not really close with anyone in my family.”

Holly couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“You asked about my father… His name is Harvey Barnes. My mother gave me his last name, but I wish she hadn’t.”

Holly offered a sympathetic frown, encouraging him silently to tell her more.

Joe looked into the fire. “He created quite a scandal.” His attention returned to Holly and she barely even noticed the icy cold around her as he spoke. “My parents dated for a few months. My mother was quite respectable—a lawyer like Katharine. But when she found out she was expecting his child, she told him, and he ran. No one has heard from him since.”

“No one?”

“No. He sent my mother a large sum of money and she created an account for me that paid for all my education and gave me a nice nest egg. His money put my mother up in a penthouse in the city, paid all her bills, got her a live-in nanny to help out with me, and sent me to the best schools, but I’ve never even met him.”

Holly was unable to hide the astonishment she felt at that. She couldn’t imagine not knowing her family. “My parents have their issues; they’re different in a lot of ways from me, but I can’t imagine not knowing them. Do you wonder if you look like him?”

“I try not to.”

“Have you ever attempted to find him?”

“Yes. I’ve hired people in the past, but no one can locate him. I’ve come to terms with it now, but I’d like to hear his side, or at the very least, confront him about it.”

“Surely with social media these days, you could find him.”

“Maybe,” he said, visibly unconvinced. “I like your optimism.”

She kept thinking about it, wishing she could do more.

“I’ll tell you what. We’ll try to look him up together.”

“Really?” Holly was excited, already invested.

Joe leaned toward the fire, his hands clasped, his face set in a look of contemplation. Holly’s head was whirring with this new information. She wanted to help him, but she had no idea how. Joe was being very brave in front of her, but she could tell that his father’s absence had affected him more than he wanted to admit.

“I’ve never told anyone about him,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Not even Katharine?”

He shook his head.

“Where does she think your father is?”

“I told her he was dead. To me, he is.” His eyes were full of unchecked anger and hurt.

“What made you tell me?” she suddenly wondered out loud.

He leaned his head back as if he were looking at the branches that reached out like giant hands above them, but she knew he was inside his own head. “I don’t know,” he said finally.

He had to know. Subconsciously, he had to. But the trouble was, she couldn’t figure it out. And now she felt guilty for knowing something that even Katharine didn’t know. She could sense herself slipping into the realm of closeness that happened when someone was a match for her, but this time it was stronger than she’d ever felt before. She needed to put the brakes on, come to a skidding stop before she got her heart broken.

“It’s great here,” he said unexpectedly, sitting up and holding his hands out to the fire to warm them.

“Yes,” she agreed.

“I’d definitely like to come back one day. I’m not often surprised, but every now and again a place will grab hold of me…” He looked at her meaningfully but then he let the moment go. He rubbed his hands along his thighs and she wondered if he was warming them up. Then, all of a sudden, he asked, “If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?”

Holly considered the question. “There’s nowhere I’d like to be besides here or Nashville,” she said, her dreams of eventually going away to New York to design school having melded into the distant memories of all the other things she wanted in her youth. Back when she first enrolled in school, she’d made all kinds of plans for her future, but the realities of life had set in and her ideas seemed to have faded away for now.

“Come on. There has to be somewhere,” he pressed her. He’d leaned back, propping his elbow on the back of the bench as he looked at her, the gesture so casual and calming that she felt the stillness in the air. Joe just had that way about him: he could quiet her racing mind in a second.

“I think I’d like to go to New York,” she said, without really thinking through what he might interpret from it. Even though she never went to design school there, she always dreamed about visiting New York, wishing she could see the city. And she hadn’t meant she’d wanted to go to where he lived. Why hadn’t she said somewhere else? As the worry inched in, he twisted toward her.

“That would be great,” he said, his smile now genuine. “There’s a little café just around the corner from Times Square. It’s called Rona’s. It’s got a gorgeous view of the city and warm coffee in every flavor. I go a lot, even though I’m not much of a coffee drinker. I like to watch all the people pass by the window—it’s so quiet inside. I’ll bet you’d enjoy it there.”

Holly liked the idea. She imagined sitting by the window, drinking her latte, as the snow fell outside. Joe could show her around, she could immerse herself in the holiday clatter of the chaotic city streets, see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, and then retreat to the tiny café where the city atmosphere could seep into her soul. She promised herself just now that one day she’d get there. Being with Joe made her feel like her life was just standing still. There was so much more going on outside of her little world, and she deserved to see it. It was up to Holly to make herself happy. What were her dreams? She needed to seriously think about them and then figure out how to start achieving them. But to move forward, she had to face the past.

“Let’s go back in.” She scooped some snow from beside the bench and threw it on the fire before Joe could question her decision. Then Holly pulled the cover back over the pit and started toward the barn without looking back. She could hear his footsteps as he tried to catch up behind her. She had to face Rhett again sometime. No more standing still.