I haven't had a chance to reply to all of your wonderful, amazing reviews for last chapter, but I wanted to get this posted, mainly because I have quite the busy week ahead and won't have much time for writing - at least not writing Hart of Dixie fan fics! I've really enjoyed reading your speculations as to what Wade's secret is. Some of you are pretty close! I'll get to your reviews as soon as I can. :)
This update is sort of part 1 of 2 and based on the Christmas classic "I'll Be Home For Christmas." Home... It can mean something different for everyone, cant it?
THINGS I OWN: A planner that cries every time I put something new in it this week. Or maybe that's me... THINGS I DON'T OWN: Hart of Dixie
Zoe couldn't contain her smile as she watched Rose clog dance on stage. It was the most ridiculous thing she'd ever seen and yet she didn't think anything could make her happier in that moment than watching the teenager dancing and spinning around with a huge smile on her face, not a care in the world outside of doing her best in the Miss Cinnamon pageant. Rose took a bow and Zoe burst into applause, giving an excited little jump and feeling very much like the proud mother.
"That was quite the clog dance," came Wade's voice.
"She was amazing!" Zoe said excitedly, spinning around so she was facing him. He was taken by surprise at just how beautiful she was. She was always beautiful, as far as he was concerned, but tonight, there was something about her literally sparkling. It could have been the Christmas lights and festive atmosphere, but it looked like it was coming from somewhere inside her.
"Well, you showed her how to be," Wade told her with a bashful grin. He wasn't sure what it was about Zoe that made him say things like that, but when it came to her, he'd learned his rules about women were well out the window. The brilliant smile that broke out on her face and the sparkle in her eye told him it was worth breaking some of his self-imposed rules.
"Thanks," she said softly, almost shy. Wade put his hands in his pockets, grinning, feeling pretty proud of himself. He stood by Zoe as they watched the rest of the Miss Cinnamon pageant. She was glued to it, seemingly more thrilled by it with each passing contestant. She looked like she belonged, like she was meant to be standing right where she was, clapping and cheering with the rest of Bluebell.
"Rose was robbed," Wade said, clapping politely as the yodeling girl who's name escaped him was crowned as Miss Cinnamon. Zoe shook her head.
"She did it on her own terms," Zoe said proudly. "I may have tried to coax her into sparkly dresses and singing, but at the end of the day, it was all her, just the way she wanted it to be."
"Coax her?" Wade asked. "The way I heard it, it was more like you did everything but push her into oncomin' traffic."
"I was just trying to help," she protested.
"And a fine job you did of it," Wade said. He'd overhead several arguments between Zoe and Rose over everything from talent to makeup while he'd been recovering from the flu and despite feeling like he'd been hit by a truck, had come to the younger girl's rescue during a particularly tense debate over whether or not Rose would be singing in the talent show.
"How are you feeling?" Zoe asked, scrutinizing his appearance. He'd had a more severe case of the flu than most and had subsequently spent more time in bed recovering. He was still a little pale, but some of the color had returned to his cheeks and for the first time in days, he didn't sound congested.
"Much better," he told her. "Almost back to normal. 'Course, I did have the best medical care around."
"You darn right you did. Seeing as you were the world's most difficult patient, you should be counting your lucky stars your doctor didn't Kevorkian you."
"I won't that bad," Wade mused. Zoe fixed him with a look. He grinned and shrugged. "Well I mighta been a little difficult," he admitted. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Lavon he hadn't been sick in years and had had a hard time with being cooped up inside for nearly a week. He knew he'd gotten on both Zoe and Lavon's nerves a few times. He'd gotten on his own, for that matter. Something in the distance caught his eye and he grinned.
"Stay right here," he said, touching Zoe's elbow. "Don't move. I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" Zoe asked, but he was already gone, disappearing through the crowd. Zoe remained where she was, exchanging polite hellos with the town people as they passed. Within minutes of leaving, Wade was walking back to her, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in his hands.
"You may not be fond of Agnes' sweet tea, but try this," he said, passing her one of the cups. Zoe blew on the liquid for a moment before taking a sip. She groaned.
"This is incredible!" she said, already taking another sip. "It's not just chocolate though. It tastes like it has peppermint in it."
"It does," Wade confirmed. "It's her signature peppermint bark hot chocolate. She only makes it in December. I didn't think you'd tried it yet."
They started to walk, no real destination in mind. Zoe took in the town's decorations, the lights hanging delicately overhead, the plastic santas and giant nutcrackers littering the town square. The tree Wade and George had brought back with them was the centerpiece, towering over the town and lit brightly. It wasn't Rockefeller Center, but she found she couldn't really complain.
"Even Christmas is Dixie down here," she commented, passing by a set of animated reindeer wearing Roll Tide Santa hats.
"It's tradition," Wade said. Zoe pointed to a wooden mural of Santa and his reindeer.
"Santa's sleigh has a gun rack on the back." Wade chuckled.
"Lavon might should consider takin' that one out of the décor rotation," he agreed.
"Zoe! Zoe wait up!" Rose called. Zoe and Wade stopped and waited for Rose, still in her clogging outfit, shoes and all, to catch up.
"You were fantastic!" Zoe told her, passing Wade her hot chocolate before she pulled Rose into a hug. "You were the absolute best."
"You weren't bad," Wade agreed, watching the two. They had an almost sisterly relationship.
"Thanks," Rose said with a big smile, clearly not upset that she hadn't won. "I just wanted to thank you for everything. I know you're heading home tomorrow afternoon and I probably won't get to see you before then so I thought I'd catch you before you left." She glanced from Zoe to Wade and back. "I'm not interrupting, am I?"
"Um," Zoe looked at Wade. Was Rose interrupting?
"Not this time," Wade told Rose with a wink. Rose rolled her eyes.
"Anyway," she said, turning back to Zoe. "I've got to go. Me and some friends are having a sleepover so we can rehash all the details of the Miss Cinnamon pageant while they're still fresh. See ya! And Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas!" Zoe called after her.
"She worships you," Wade said, passing her back her hot chocolate.
"She's a sweet kid," Zoe answered as the pair resumed walking.
"So, you all packed and ready to go?" Wade asked.
"Almost. Just a few last minute things to throw into my bag. Are you sure it's okay for you to take me to the airport? I mean, you don't have to work or anything?"
'I've told you ten times, Doc, its fine," Wade said. "I don't mind at all." Zoe gave him a smile and the pair lapsed into silence as they wandered around the town square. Wade was vaguely aware that eyes were following them, but he didn't particularly care. He stole a glance at Zoe, wondering how he'd been the guy lucky enough to get to walk beside her, when he noticed she looked far away. He pumped her arm gently. "Hey," he said. "You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I just…" Zoe sighed. "It's going to be weird, going home," she admitted. She'd been thinking on the subject a lot, especially now that her departure date was practically here. "It's the first time I've been in New York since I learned I'm not Dr. John Hart's daughter. Except me, my mom and my best friend, no one up there knows the truth. So much about this Christmas is different. I don't know. I'm just not sure how it's going to go, I guess."
"I'm sure your mom is lookin' forward to havin' you home for a few days," Wade said.
"She is. Christmas is her holiday, you know? Growing up, I always thought it was so cool that I got to celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas – Hanukkah with my dad's family, Christmas with my mom's family. Apparently I'm not celebrating Hanukkah this year seeing as it started two nights ago and I don't even have a menorah. Wouldn't be the first time though. Last year, I had a menorah, but didn't manage to light it. I was too busy at the hospital."
"Not being Jewish, I don't know much about Hanukkah, but I reckon you get a pass this year, seein' as you've been through a bit of an identity crisis," Wade said. They took a seat on a bench.
"I guess," Zoe said. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I guess at this point I'll just have to go with it and see what happens."
"You know, I know this ain't exactly where you planned to be this time last year, but is it all that bad?" Wade asked. He nodded towards the town square in the distance where the community was celebrating the holiday season, a scene that looked straight out of a storybook except with no snow and the occasional pair of shorts instead of a land of white and heavy coats. When he looked back at Zoe, he was expecting to see her taking in the town square. Instead, she was looking at him, a small smile on her face.
"It's not all that bad," she agreed. He returned her smile, certain he'd blushed just a little.
"You knew Harley pretty well, right?" Zoe asked. Wade shrugged.
"I mean, I knew him. He delivered me, was my doctor up until the day he died. He was good to my family when Momma got sick and after. But I wouldn't say we were best friends."
"Did he have a family?" Zoe asked. "A wife? Kids?" Wade shook his head.
"He never got married. I know he had a sister, but she was older and passed away a while ago. The only reason I know that is because him and Brick had this big fight over who would stay in Bluebell the weekend of her funeral. See, his sister had the nerve to go and die the same weekend Bama was playin' Florida."
"Sounds like Brick," Zoe commented. "Who ended up staying?"
"Neither of 'em. They both left to prove a point to each other. I broke my arm that weekend, had to go clear up to Mobile to see a doctor that could set it." He heard Zoe laugh softy. "What's all this curiosity about Harley, anyway?"
"I don't really know," she said. "Lately, I've been thinking about him a lot, wondering who he really was, if he had a family. They'd be my family, you know? I think I'd like to know them. Maybe I can look up his sister's obituary, see if she had kids or something."
"I reckon it's only natural to want to know where you came from," Wade commented.
"I read his charts a lot," Zoe told him. It was easy, talking to Wade about this sort of thing. She hadn't even confided in Lavon about her desire to know more about Harley and she told him everything – whether he wanted to hear it or not. "I've memorized most of them by now, but I realized the other day that we make our 'e' the same way and that even when we're printing something, we still connect all the letters together. It's weird, finding little similarities like that. It makes me curious about what else we have in common. Like, I was making a cup of coffee and I found myself wondering how he took his coffee - if he even liked coffee. It's such a weird, trivial thing to wonder about, but in that moment, I really wanted to know."
"Two sugars, one cream," Wade answered. Zoe looked at him, surprised.
"What?" she asked.
"Two sugars, one cream," Wade repeated. "Just like you, come to think of it."
"How'd you know that?" Zoe wanted to believe him, but she was skeptical. It was such a random thing for him to know about Harley.
"Harley started his day off with breakfast at the Rammer Jammer every single mornin.' Bacon, eggs, toast and a side of grits. Always. Except on Sundays. On Sunday, he'd come in before church and have himself a big 'ol plate of pancakes, absolutely smothered 'em in syrup. Once in a while, he'd get biscuits and gravy, but he'd still order a small stack of pancakes to go with it. I reckon it ain't no wonder he died from heart trouble."
"Ironic, isn't it? That my real father ultimately died of heart disease while the man I thought was my father all these years is a world-renowned heart surgeon."
"I guess there's some irony there," Wade admitted. "But no more so than his one and only daughter turning up here a big fancy heart surgeon." Zoe played with her now empty hot chocolate cup.
"I still haven't cleaned out his stuff," she told him. "Where he lived in the apartment above the practice? Everything is still exactly like it was when he died. I haven't even set foot in there. Mrs. H gave me the keys before she left, said I could go in there, clean things out, and assuming I could convince Brick, live there. I just – haven't. And even if I did clean it out, I'd probably still stay in the carriage house. I've gotten rather attached to it. Save for the whole no kitchen, terrible water pressure, shared fuse box thing."
"I've gotten rather used to having you live there," Wade admitted. They exchanged smiles full of meanings that neither of them could quite identify.
"You heading back to the plantation any time soon?" Zoe asked.
"Right now if you want," Wade said. "It's been a long day and I guess I'm still not back to full strength. I wouldn't mind turnin' in early tonight."
"Right now sounds amazing," Zoe agreed. "It has, in fact, been a long day." She stood and held out her hand to Wade. He took it and allowed her to pull him to his feet. To his surprise, she didn't drop his hand. He laced his fingers through hers and together they walked back through the town square to Wade's car, the town buzzing in their wake.
"Are you sure you ain't movin' back to New York, Doc? It looks like you're takin' everything you own with you." Zoe looked over her shoulder as she folded another sweater to add to her already full to the brim suitcase. A smaller one, also stuffed to capacity, was zipped and waiting at the foot of her bed and her carry on lay on the floor nearby.
"I'm going to be there 9 whole days. That's like a lifetime in Bluebell," she answered. She turned back to her packing, missing the sad look that crossed Wade's face. He shook it off and went to sit on her bed while she finished.
"It's gonna be quiet with you around," he mentioned.
"Look at it like this. For the next 9 days, you can use as much power as you want and play your guitar as loud as you can possibly stand it." Wade shrugged.
"It's not as appealin,' knowin' I won't blow out the box and run the risk of you stormin' over to my place in those little shorts of yours." Zoe rolled her eyes.
"I definitely won't be wearing shorts while I'm in New York," she told him. "It's going to be 30 degrees and snowing most of the time."
"That sounds like hell," Wade commented. He was sitting in jeans and a t-shirt, completely comfortable in Bluebell's 65 degree weather.
"That sounds like December," Zoe replied. She couldn't quite wrap her head around how warm it still was to be just two days from Christmas.
"You 'bout ready to go?" he asked. "We'll have to hit the road pretty soon if you're gonna make your flight." Zoe zipped up her suitcase with some effort.
"I think I'm ready," she said. "Oh! Hang on." She went to her closet and pulled out a coat from the back of it. She stuffed it into her carryon with as much difficulty as she'd just zipped her suitcase. "It's not going to be 60 degrees when I get off the plane in New York," she explained as Wade looked on, amused. He stood, picking up her bigger suitcase.
"Let me get that," he said, reaching for her carryon. Zoe let him take it, now used to how southern men tended to do things like carry the bags and open doors. He threw the brightly printed duffel bag over his shoulder and picked up her other suitcase. She led the way outside and got in the car at his insistence while he loaded her things in the trunk.
"Thanks again," Zoe told him when he slid behind the wheel. "I know I've said it a dozen times, but thank you." Wade gave her a smile as he put the car in reverse.
"It's no problem," he told her. "I'm happy to do it."
"Can we stop by your place first? I think I left my black sweater when I was over there the other night."
"We can, but I know you didn't leave your sweater. You had it on when you left." Wade could tell her that with certainty. He had watched her leave, rather enjoying the view from behind.
"I did," Zoe argued. "I'll just run in and grab it."
"Alright," Wade agreed, "But you ain't gonna find it."
A few minutes later, Zoe was walking out of his house, no black sweater in sight, her giant purse draped over her shoulder.
"Told you," he said, when she got back into the car.
"Consider it the one time you get to be right," Zoe replied. He laughed.
The drive to Mobile went by too quick for Wade's liking. He kept Zoe entertained with stories about different Bluebell residents, enjoying the easy rapport he had with her. Too soon, he was pulling into short term parking despite Zoe's insistence that he could just drop her off.
"Seriously, Doc, you keep this up and you'll be hoarse before you even get to that big city of yours." He lifted both of her suitcases from the trunk and passed her her carry on. "'Sides, these bags weigh more than you do. I ain't sure how you're gonna manage when you get to New York."
"I can handle it," Zoe insisted. Wade ignored her and started towards the doors, leaving her to follow. She made her way to the ticket counter while Wade took care of her checked luggage. Combined, the two bags had weighed nearly 80 pounds. Having carried Zoe around a time or two, he knew she only weight about 20 pounds more.
"All set," she said, returning to him. "Thank you – once again – for everything – the ride, carrying my bags, checking my bags…" Wade smiled at her and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear so he could see her better. Her hand caught his as he let it fall from her hair.
"You're welcome," he said. He suddenly really didn't want her to leave.
"I should go," she told him, even as she held his hand tighter. "I still have to get through security and find my gate." She didn't make a move to leave him.
"I guess you should," Wade agreed, looking into her eyes. He really just wanted to throw her over his shoulder, stuff her back in his car and take her back to Bluebell. She'd be mad at first and maybe for a few additional days, but she'd get over it eventually. He'd just blow the fuse box and refuse to fix it until she forgave him. It was simple, really.
"Okay," Zoe said, her eyes remaining locked on his. "I'm going to go." Several seconds past. She took a deep breath. "See you in nine days," she said. She turned to leave, her hand still in his.
"Wait," Wade said, pulling her back to him. Zoe looked up to him expectantly. He put his hand on her cheek and ran his thumb over her cheekbone, looking into her eyes. "Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?" he asked. Zoe raised an eyebrow.
"You're asking?" she replied. He had definitely never asked permission before, her mind jumping to their steamy kiss in his living room the night she was furious at him over abandoning their float building.
"I figure we're in public so I'd ask to avoid a scene," he answered. "And besides, I'm not exactly on a first name basis with the sheriff around these parts. Or the mayor for that matter." Zoe smiled up at him. She'd been hoping he'd kiss her goodbye. She reached up and pulled him to her, giving him permission to kiss her. And he did, making sure it was a kiss she wouldn't forget when she stepped off the plane in New York. Only when it became necessary for them to take a breath did they pull away.
"I should go," Zoe said again. She was hyper aware of Wade's arm around her waist, holding her tightly to him.
"You should." He kissed her one more time, softly. "I'll see you New Year's Day." Zoe nodded.
"New Year's Day," she agreed. Reluctantly, she pulled away from him. She looked over her shoulder at him as she passed through the checkpoint. He nodded at her and gave her a smile before turning to leave. Zoe blew out a breath as she handed over her ID and ticket. As much as she was looking forward to going home, she was pretty sure she was leaving a piece of her heart in Bluebell.
Never, ever, would she tell Wade he was right, she decided as she half carried, half dragged her luggage into her mother's building from where the driver had unloaded it at the curb. The doorman recognized her and greeted her by name, pulling the door open for her. She breathed a hello to him and stabbed the elevator button. She made a production out of dragging her bags into the elevator and took a seat on the bigger of the two to catch her breath as she rode to the top floor. More huffing and puffing followed as she pulled them into her mother's foyer.
"Zoe! You're home!" her mother exclaimed, appearing almost right away.
"Yeah," Zoe breathed. She hugged her mother. "Whew." Sybil frowned.
"What on earth?" she asked, taking in her daughter's somewhat frazzled appearance. "I know the trip from Alabama to New York isn't pleasant seeing as there isn't a direct flight to be had, but you look like you just fought a war."
"No war, just my bags," Zoe answered. "I may have over packed just a little."
"Well let me help you get these upstairs," she said. "Then we'll see about some dinner and catch each other up on the last few days of our lives." Sybil grabbed the handle of the smaller of the two suitcases. She managed to lift it a few inches off the ground before she let it fall back to the floor. "What did you pack? Bricks?"
"Close," Zoe answered. "Shoes." Sybil cracked a smile. Some things would never change.
"How about we have Andrew carry this up for you?" she asked Zoe, referring to the family's longtime butler and all around right hand man. He'd always reminded Zoe of Niles from The Nanny. She nodded in agreement.
"As for dinner, would you hate it if we had Chinese delivered?" she asked. "It's been a long day, traveling and all, and I really just don't feel like going out. Besides, I haven't had food delivered to my door in months." Sybil smiled.
"I think that's a wonderful idea," she said. "Let's go pull the menu book out and see what sounds good." She started towards the rarely used kitchen where she kept an impressive stash of takeout menus. "Andrew! Will you take Zoe's bags to her old room please?" she called out into the house. Zoe made to follow but heard her phone sound. She retrieved it from her bag.
Make it okay?
She smiled as she read Wade's text. Having Chinese brought to my door right now, she texted back. She held the phone to her chest, a silly smile playing on her lips. She'd never had a guy look after her the way Wade did, let alone do it so genuinely. Within a few moments, her phone chimed again.
I'm kickin Lavon's ass in NASCAR. He's worse than u are. Zoe laughed out loud. She heard her mother call her and headed for the kitchen, replying to Wade as she went.
Zoe couldn't remember having that much fun with her mother of all people. They had sat around in the living room that didn't seem quite as cold as Zoe remembered it feeling during her childhood, eating Chinese out of cartons with just the soft glow of the Christmas tree for company. They had laughed and talked and just enjoyed one another's company for hours and ended the night by popping in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, an old favorite of Zoe's, and laughing together at scenes they'd each seen a hundred times.
"Good night, Zoe," Sybil called as Zoe climbed the stairs to her room.
"Night, Mom," Zoe called back. The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed midnight. "And Merry Christmas!" she added, now that it was technically Christmas Eve. She entered her childhood room – that she hadn't even set foot into since arriving hours earlier – and just shook her head at all the pink and flowers. Her mother never did accept that pink wasn't her favorite color.
Andrew had brought her things up and left them on her bed. She unzipped the bigger suitcase in search of her pajamas. She pushed the top open and on top of the sweatshirt she remembered adding as an afterthought was a haphazardly wrapped package. She picked it up and just as she expected based on the wrapping, saw it was from Wade.
Curious and now understanding why Wade had sent her to get in the car when she'd tried to help put her bags in the trunk, she sat cross-legged on her bed. She tore away the wrapping and smiled when she realized it was a cookbook.
"How to Boil Water: Life Beyond Takeout," she read, shaking her head in amusement. She made to open the book when she realized there was a piece of paper marking a page. She opened the book to it and saw it was a recipe for a variation of spaghetti. Her smile even bigger, she unfolded the piece of paper. 'Uncle Moe's Gumbo' was scrawled across the top in Wade's chicken scratch handwriting, a step by step recipe listed out below. She laughed out loud. It was easily the best Christmas gift she'd received since she'd gotten her very first plastic doctor's kit when she was four years old.
Wade stretched his arms over his head as he climbed his porch stairs. He looked longingly at Zoe's dark house, feeling oddly lonely without her. He'd texted her all evening, in between races with Lavon, all of which he'd won handily. He hadn't been kidding – Zoe really was better at the game than Lavon and seeing as she was terrible, that was saying something.
Driving back to Bluebell, he had replayed their kiss at the airport over and over. He was sure he had imagined it, but it almost seemed like Zoe was reluctant to get on the plane. He was reluctant to let her go. He was sure that once she got back in the city, she'd remember why she loved it so much and all of Bluebell's charm that had worn her down would be erased. She'd be more eager than ever to get back into the city and move on with her life once her year was up in Bluebell. He'd just have to do what he could to convince her to stay.
He didn't bother turning on a light as he wandered through his house. It was after midnight, technically Christmas Eve. Zoe would be back on the first and by his math, that was just eight days away. Eight very long, very Zoe-free days.
He pulled back the blankets on his bed and stripped down to his boxer shorts. The Rammer Jammer was only open half a day on Christmas Eve, but he'd planned to work all of it to let some of the others who had families have the day off. He'd head to Mobile to be with his sister's family after work.
He slipped under his covers and moved around, trying to get comfortable. His foot kicked something hard. Frowning, he sat up and turned on his bedside light. A thin, square package was laying on his bed, wrapped in bright red paper with an elaborate bow. He reached for it and read the name tag. It was from Zoe. Smiling, figuring that's what she'd been up to when she'd insisted her sweater was at his place, he opened it.
He knew what it was before the paper was even half off. It was an LP of Willie Nelson's version of "Moon River." Smiling, he got out of bed and plugged in his old record player, hoping it still worked. He put the LP on and set the needle. Moments later, "Moon River" filled his living room. He laid down on his couch, listening to Willie Nelson as he played with his necklace. He drifted off to sleep thinking about Zoe, his mom, and how maybe he'd play the record for his dad sometime soon.
I've been thinking about Harley and Zoe's 'relationship' a lot - surely the show will eventually explore that? Zoe doesn't strike me as the kind who'd just accept that he was her real father and leave it at that. I'm also hung up on the practice - it's the big two/three story townhouse looking place so I'd think there would be living quarters or something of that nature above it. In my story there is anyway!
Thanks for reading and reviewing!