December is passing quickly. After saying I love you, Harry and I have been almost inseparable. We have started doing everything, planning everything together, as a couple. I can't believe how fast we realized that we were meant for each other. I'm certain that God had something to do with that. Maybe He is more like my dad after all.
We have ten days until Christmas; not nearly enough time to do everything we want to do together. On an unusually slow day, we spend hours at Sue's Brews. It's my favorite thing to do, just to sit and discover more and more about the man I love.
There, I admitted it. It's not a question in my mind any more.
I love Harry Styles and he loves me.
However, it may take some time to convince the other people in our life that our love is real after only a few weeks.
While sipping our coffees, I ask Harry, "Does it bother you that I'm a runner?" I know we touched on this a bit already. I wouldn't want to give up running, but I would do it in a heartbeat if it was too hard for Harry to handle seeing me doing it.
His confused look surprises me. It turns out he's not confused about my question, but about his own reaction. "I don't know," he finally admits. "I mean, I love that you're a runner. But I assume you're wondering if it will bother me that we can't run together, or that I'll have to watch you do something I can no longer do."
"Exactly," I respond.
"I honestly don't know yet," he admits quietly. After several moments in thought, he finally continues. It sounds as if he's changing the conversation, but his thought process must have brought him to this conclusion. "I think the only thing I can't let go of is my dad's resentment towards me. Our relationship has never been great, but since the accident, it's been almost non-existent." He tells me this in a very matter-of-fact way, but I can imagine it feels much heavier than he's letting on.
I wonder what it would be like for my dad and me to have such a huge obstacle between us. Or my mom. Mom and I have our differences, but we don't exactly have a permanent blockage in our relationship. In spite of his unemotional statement, I think I've hit a nerve with Harry. He doesn't say anything else about it, so I decide to take him at his word and leave it at that.
After coffee, we go Christmas shopping together, mainly so I can show Harry some of my favorite shops in our tiny downtown. I know he's been down here before, but there are a few places that are special to me. The area seems kind of magical at Christmas time.
We happen upon an antique store that I've only visited once or twice. Harry suggests we go in and look around because his Oma is kind of a collector. He wants to find something to add to one of her antique displays. I wouldn't know an antique if it was staring me in the face. As we pass a jewelry display, however, I am captivated by a delicate Celtic knot necklace. I can't stop marveling at how fine the chain is and how dainty the tiny knots are. I tell Harry that I've always liked the Irish design because it's part of my family's heritage. The salesperson offers to take it out so that I can have a closer look. The price tag is staggering, so I simply say, "Um, no thanks."
A few days later, we decide to try our hand at baking gingerbread cookies. I'm glad that Harry isn't high-maintenance, that he enjoys such simple things as hanging out in the kitchen with me.
We've been listening to a variety of music while cutting out the crazy little gingerbread shapes. We have enjoyed almost all of the selections, covering a wide range, including alternative, pop, hip-hop, and some popular Christian CD's that Harry had brought. We've also heard a smattering of Indie, retro, and yes, even some country.
Once the cookies are cool, we attempt to frost them. I guess my mom's baking skill hasn't rubbed off on me because we end up with tie-dyed, lopsided gingerbread men.
After washing the frosting from our hands, I tell Harry that there is one more song I want him to hear, but he doesn't seem thrilled when I pull out a CD from Fiona's collection. "Absolutely not," he states. "I draw the line at One Direction."
"Oh, come on. This CD is different, a little more mature than their younger, boy band sound. There are several really good songs on this one." I can tell I haven't fully persuaded him, but I pop in the CD anyway. "This song makes me think of us," I tell him.
I can tell he's trying not to roll his eyes, so I whack him with a pillow. "Just listen! This song is called 'Strong'."
He listens intently to the words and tries not to enjoy the catchy rhythm.
My hands
Your hands
Tied up
Like two ships
Drifting
Weightless
Waves try to break it
I'd do anything to save it
Why is it so hard to say it?
My heart
Your heart
Sit tight like book ends
Pages
Between us
Written with no end
So many words we're not saying
Don't wanna wait 'til it's gone
You make me strong
When it reaches the chorus, I start to sing along with a wooden spoon as my microphone.
I'm sorry if I say, "I need you"
But I don't care
I'm not scared of love
'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker
Is that so wrong?
Is it so wrong
That you make me strong?
He dissolves into laughter and pulls me into his lap. "I love you, but I will have to smother you with this pillow if you keep singing."
When the song reaches the bridge, I pull away and start singing again, really putting my heart and soul into it and knowing Harry is cracking up watching me.
So, baby, hold on to my heart, oh, oh
Need you to keep me from falling apart
I'll always hold on
'Cause you make me strong
When the song ends, he relents, "It is a pretty good song. I might catch myself singing it from time to time."
"It's a great song," I insist. "Because it's true. I don't think I was a weakling before, but since I met you, I've become a stronger version of myself."
A few days before Christmas, Harry invites me to visit Oma in Ontonagon with him for an afternoon. It's strange that I haven't met her yet, since Harry and I have been together almost constantly. I agree since we are done with shopping and I don't have to work. That, and I never want to leave his side.
Ontonagon is not far from Eagle Canyon. When we arrive mid-afternoon, I smell wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen. Harry's grandmother welcomes me with a big bear hug. I can see where Mr. Styles, and in turn, Harry, got his beautiful jungle green eyes.
Harry leans in to kiss her on the cheek and greets her, "Hallo Oma, wie geht es dir?"
He speaks German?
She calls him a name I don't understand and then pinches his cheek. She turns back to me, "So, Katherine...." She pronounces my name with a hard t in the middle, a guttural r and an extra syllable at the end so it sounds more like Katerina.
"You can call me Kate," I politely suggest.
She thinks for a moment. "I like Katerina better," she insists. Harry smiles apologetically and I decide it's okay with me if it's okay with him.
"So, how do you like my Harry?" She continues.
I giggle at her bluntness. "He's wonderful," I tell her with a grin.
"Good," she says. "He'll take very good care of you, that boy."
"Oma," Harry says in a pleading, and clearly embarrassed, tone of voice.
"What?" She sounds surprised. "You are a good boy."
We sit in the family room chatting comfortably for a while when suddenly, Oma gets up and hurries out of the room. She returns with the biggest jar of pennies I've ever seen.
"This is for you. For your wedding shoes." She hands me the gigantic jar as I look at Harry quizzically.
"It's a German tradition that a girl saves pennies to buy her wedding shoes some day," Harry explains. "Oma started Gemma's penny jar when she was little. Then she started one for me in case my bride-to-be wasn't German."
He then turns to her and explains, "We're not engaged, Oma."
She ignores him when she insists that I take the jar. Heat spreads across my face as I take the heavy jar from her grasp.
Then she takes me by the hand and says, "Stand up." I comply. "You're so skinny," she says. "You gain some weight before the wedding." The blush that began with the pennies grows hotter and wider.
I bite my lip. Mrs. Styles is the one who seems to resemble her mother-in-law with her bluntness. Aside from my embarrassment, my heart is swelling with happiness. I know that Harry must have spoken to her about me, and from what it sounds like, she must have gathered that I'm very special to him. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
Harry says something to Oma, a little sharply, in German.
She shakes her head at him and walks toward the kitchen to put supper on the table.
"You speak German?" I ask in a whisper.
"Ja," he answers.
"What did you say to her?"
"I told her to back off," he chuckles. I'm sure he was much more polite than that, but she seems to have taken the hint.
During dinner, Oma goes on and on about her courtship with Harry's grandfather, who passed away many years ago. She tells us they fell in love when she was 14, but they weren't allowed to marry until they were 18, after which they immigrated to England. Then, when Mr. Styles and his siblings were in their teens, the family moved to Ontonagon and she's lived in the same house ever since. Harry's father returned to England to attend university so that's where he met Harry's mom.
I enjoy hearing about Harry's ancestry. I can tell that his family's heritage is important to Oma, and she seems eager to pass along some information to me. It's clear that Harry already knows German. I wonder if that's because his family taught him, or if just decided to learn in school. I think a bit more about my heritage. My family is mostly Irish, with some French and Scandinavian thrown in. We've never practiced any particular traditions that come to mind.
When we leave Oma's house, she gives me another bear hug and tells me, "I like you, Katerina."
I kiss Oma's forehead to let her know that I like her, too. "Thank you for the lovely dinner," I tell her.
She turns to Harry and tells him, "You hold on to this one!"
Not even the winter cold can erase the blush from my face.
* * * * *
So, obviously, I broke the fourth wall with the 1D reference and Strong, but when I first started writing this book, Midnight Memories had just come out, and the song Strong seemed fitting for the theme of the book. (I named the book before I even thought about the song, I assure you.) I originally had the lyrics and everything, but then I took them out for my Amazon for Kindle version because I didn't want to infringe on copyrights. But I did include One Direction in my acknowledgements because they have inspired me so much.
In case you're wondering, the character's name in the original book is Chase Nichols, instead of Harry Styles :)
It's getting so close to Christmas! Are you all getting excited?