The Perfect Love Song Read Online Free Page B

cried silent tears that were the good kind of tears—ones of filling, not emptying. The family, who had snuck up and been listening the whole time, now burst through the door, and their private moment became a shared moment. And for the first time in Jimmy’s life, he believed that Christmas just might be different from any other day.

    I ’m not the biggest fan of New Year’s Eve parties. It seems to be a night made for disappointment. All those songs and poems and parties about the new year, that big crystal ball falling in New York City and smaller balls falling all over other cities and other places, and people go putting so much stock into the night, as if the clock turning from 11:59 to 12:00 can change everything. This entire ruckus raises expectations to a level that just can’t be fulfilled in anything but movies and books. I know, I know, it’s the symbolism of a new year, a new start, and more than anyone you know, I believe in symbols, but it has become an extreme sport, this New Year’s Eve-party thing.
    All that getting drunk and finding someone to kiss and putting all that importance on resolutions and goals is just enough to make anyone depressed. And from what I can tell, this is mostly what happens on New Year’s Eve—getting drunk and depressed. Ah, but maybe that’s why everyone does all that silly drinking—to NOT think about the kissing and love and resolutions and goals. In my humble opinion (okay, so it’s not so humble), New Year’s Eve should arrive in humble quiet and glory. But that’s just me.
    On this particular New Year’s Eve, Jimmy and Charlotte, along with Jack and Kara, went to a concert in Savannah. The Unknown Souls were part of a “Country Music
New Year” concert featuring all the up-and-coming country artists. And this is where it all began—where Jimmy’s fame and therefore Jimmy’s downfall began.
    The Lowcountry coast during the holidays is one of the most tender and heart-opening scenes in the world. The lights set against the hanging Spanish moss and whitewashed porches look like angels gathered to sing. That year December arrived in a warm, moist nuzzle. The fancy scarves and hats, they were of no use. Soon January would come in with a freeze that broke all records, but for now there was a reprieve.
    The holidays are beautiful anywhere they are celebrated, but they are extraordinary when celebrated in a place that honors the story. Not only the story of Christmas, but the story itself for just what it is.
    What I also know—the stories change every year. The people who tell the stories don’t know they change the details a bit every year until the story becomes a living, evolving thing. But here is the beautiful part: It is still the same story even if it sounds a little bit different each time it is told. The important part remains the important part. The essence stays. And this is what happened as Kara, Jack, Jimmy, and Charlotte drove to Savannah on New Year’s Eve. Charlotte drove her convertible because they believed the warm weather would allow them to put the top down, but
after twenty minutes on Highway 16 they decided it wasn’t such a great idea. Charlotte’s heart felt as if it were piled so high and sweet with love that it might burst.
    She pulled the car to the side of the road, and Jimmy jumped out to pull the top up. Charlotte turned to the backseat and looked at Kara. “Remember that night your mama took us to see the Christmas lights in Savannah and she got a flat tire?”
    Kara’s eyes flashed with tears. “Yes. Oh, my gosh, yes. How do you remember that? We were like eight years old.”
    “And you wore a red taffeta dress with this huge green bow, and I wore this silly scratchy wool dress my grandma made for me that Mama forced me to wear so Grandma could see the pictures. And it was just the three of us—me, you, and your mama.”
    Kara leaned forward in the seat so she was in between the two front seats, her left leg and arm draped