Christmas at the Graff

by Kaylie Newell

  “So, you spent a few hours in a forest lookout, huh?” Joe asked. He rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he was putting two and two together. Maybe not.

  “Yup,” she said. “It was an adventure.”

  “Ah.” He took another sip of coffee. “I’m just glad you two weren’t stuck for longer. That could’ve been dangerous.”

  At that, Jemma looked down at her own coffee as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

  They sat there for another minute or two, the sounds of the café buzzing around them—dishes being bussed, the ever-present Christmas music playing in the background, Elsie laughing at something someone at the counter said. The pretty, dark-haired manager of The Java Café had been absolutely right—Jemma was happy. Happier than she’d been in a long time. She couldn’t stop thinking about EJ and that kiss. It had been everything she’d fantasized about and more. But now, just a few days later, she was finding herself in a familiar situation—worrying about the future.

  It wasn’t because of anything EJ had done or not done. He’d called, said the right things, been sweet and attentive. And truthfully, it had only been a kiss, nothing more. But she couldn’t help feeling like the bubble she’d built around herself since that day would pop soon, leaving her with another broken heart and shattered expectations. She supposed it was cliché, but she almost wanted to be the one to break his heart first. To leave before he could tell her in that sweet attentive voice that he didn’t think anything would work between them. After all, she lived in another town, and he’d said himself that he’d never committed in the past.

  She frowned. That was all she needed. To fall for someone as flaky as her dad.

  “What’s wrong, honey?”

  She looked up to see Joe watching her. His eyes were so kind. The eyes she remembered, except these were more weathered, wizened. She still wasn’t used to the soft crinkles radiating from the corners.

  What’s wrong? She didn’t know where to start. She was afraid to start at the beginning with her father. If she did, she might not be able to handle where it would take them. Still, she’d been harboring the secret hope that when and if she demanded an explanation from him, it would be something monumental. Something meaningful. Something she wouldn’t be able to discount, and she’d finally be able to understand his leaving completely. Because despite everything, despite how Justine still felt, Jemma longed for a relationship with her dad. She knew it couldn’t be the same as before, but maybe it’d be better. Just maybe.

  Joe sat there, his jaw clenching underneath his stubbly cheek.

  “Daddy...”

  She couldn’t help it; it’d just slipped out. She hadn’t called him Daddy since she’d been little. Something about the word cracked open a fissure inside her heart. While there was pain, there was also light that shone through from the other side. Just the smallest bit, but she could feel it. The warmth along with the ache.

  Joe swallowed visibly. He’d told her once that as people got older, it was harder to hide their emotions. They were right there underneath the surface. She saw now that it was true—he was struggling with something. Probably the same things she struggled with. So why was it so damn hard to get through this together?

  She took a deep, even breath. Jemma could stop right now. She could get up, pay the bill, kiss her father on the cheek, and walk out the door. Justine would probably approve. So would her mother from the grave. It would definitely be the easiest thing to do, keeping that fissure in her heart from cracking any wider. Because truthfully, she was scared of what lay on the other side.

  But she was also tired of being afraid. Tired of missing out on things, something that had become crystal clear since the day EJ had kissed her. She wanted to be more courageous, but where did that start? Today? In a corner booth at The Java Café in the middle of a little town that she was growing to love despite trying so hard not to?

  She looked her dad in the eyes. No Place Like Home For The Holidays was playing over the speakers. Melancholy, appropriate. So many memories flashed behind her eyes—Christmases past when they’d been a whole family unit.

  “Why did you leave?” she asked softly. She didn’t sound like herself. She sounded younger. And maybe it was her younger self who was asking. The one who really needed to know.

  Joe watched her for another long minute before sitting back against the booth as if all the energy had drained from his body. His eyes had grown bright, but there were no tears there. Only a very obvious regret. An undeniable sadness.

  The café seemed to have grown quiet in the last few moments—even the music was muted now, as if waiting for him to answer.

  Jemma realized she’d been holding her breath, so she forced it out while wiping her palms on her thighs. Her jeans were soft and comfortable, and she was glad she’d worn them today. She needed all the comfort she could get.

  “I guess I should’ve been expecting that,” he said.

  “Yes, you should’ve.”

  He bowed his head. But after a few seconds, he looked back up and set his jaw. “You deserve an explanation, and I should’ve given it to you before this. But I tried, Jemma. I tried to reach you girls, and your mother wouldn’t allow it.”

  She felt an old prickle of anger at that. “Don’t blame Mom for something you did.”

  “I’m not blaming her; I’m trying to tell you what happened. Will you let me do that?”

  He was right. She needed to shut up and listen. But it was hard not to jump in and defend her mother. Especially with her being gone now. All Jemma had were the memories, and she was fiercely protective of those.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

  She could only guess how he felt—waiting for years to explain himself, then having to do it on the spur of the moment over coffee and Christmas music.

  Taking a visible breath, he leaned forward. “I could lie and tell you there was a really good, clear reason. But that wouldn’t be true. It was complicated.”

  “You left for another woman,” Jemma managed. It was hard, pushing the words past her vocal chords.

  “No. I know it looked like that from the outside, and she definitely had something to do with it, but my decision to leave was more than that.”

  Jemma watched him, waiting.

  “Your mom and I didn’t love each other anymore. We were poisoning each other, and I resented that.” He paused for a few seconds, but then plowed ahead again. “I resented a lot of things. I became a father before I was ready, and I blamed your mom for pressuring me into it. But I loved you girls beyond measure, and I was worried that if I stayed, we’d end up poisoning you, too. Our relationship was so unhealthy. I’d been wanting to leave a long time before I actually did, honey.”

  She blinked, her eyes stinging. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but this wasn’t it. She guessed she might’ve felt better if he’d come right out and said he’d been in love with someone else and had to follow his heart. But she didn’t know what to do with this...this conscious decision to leave because he was fundamentally unhappy with his home life. To know he hadn’t initially wanted Jemma and Justine felt like a cruel punch to the gut. But he said he loved them. Did he really?

  “You didn’t just leave Mom,” she said. “You left us. Justine and me. How could you have done that? Even if you were unhappy, Dad. We’re your kids.”

  “Honey, I never intended to leave you girls. But the second I walked out the door, your mom shut me out of your lives. I made a mistake doing it the way I did. I screwed up. You should’ve known from the very first second how much you both mean to me.”

  She knew he was trying. The worry on his face, the pain, it was evident. He was a human being, and he’d obviously changed, grown from the man he’d been before. He was trying to make amends, but the same question dogged her now that had been dogging her all these years. How could he just apologize and expect forgiveness for something this fundamentally wrong? Jemma had always vowed that if she eve
r had children, she’d make sure they knew how much they were cherished, how she’d never, ever leave, no matter what the circumstances.

  “Do you know how screwed up this has made me, Dad? Do you have any idea?”

  He tried reaching for her hand, but she pulled it back before he could touch her.

  “I’m afraid of everything because of you,” she continued. It wasn’t fair—she was blaming him for more than he deserved, but she couldn’t help it. Deep down, she knew her mother had a part in building her insecurities like a glass house. She’d made sure her daughters had nurtured all the fear and questions and bitterness that Joe had planted that day. But her mom was gone, and Joe was sitting right here. It was easier to focus her anger on him. It was like he had a big, fat bull’s-eye painted on his chest.

  She leaned back and glared at him. “Mom said she missed you. She said she loved you, and you left anyway.”

  He looked like he might want to say something he shouldn’t, but instead, he took a breath. “I know how you felt about your mom,” he said. “How you still feel about her. I don’t want to taint any of that, but I also want you to understand that it wasn’t black and white. She was so mad when I left. I believed she would’ve said or done anything to hurt me, even at your expense.”

  Jemma flinched. She didn’t know what was worse—to have lost her dad, or to know her mom was so full of anger that she would’ve sacrificed her daughters’ happiness because of it.

  It was too much. All of it. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked him. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to Marietta at all. It would’ve been so much easier to stay in Missoula, never risking this pain, this unbelievable discomfort she’d opened herself up to.

  She looked down at her steaming coffee that had tasted so good a minute ago, and frowned.

  He reached for her again, but this time, she didn’t pull away. His hand was heavy and comforting, despite everything. For one brief second, she considered what it would be like to forgive him and move on. What would their relationship be like in the future? She knew what they’d been experiencing up to now couldn’t last—it was Christmastime, magical. Reality would eventually set in, and then what? What kind of father would he be after this?

  Then she thought of Justine, who was still so hurt. And her mother—gone now, but still very much a part of this scenario.

  Jemma took a deep breath and looked her dad in the eyes. She just wasn’t ready. Maybe she’d never be ready. “I promised my boss I’d do some paperwork this afternoon and email it back tonight. I’d better get back.”

  Disappointment crept over his face. He’d been hoping for a different outcome.

  She sat up, straightening her spine. The magic couldn’t last. This was reality.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jemma sat in a corner booth in the Graff bar, her laptop open. It was quiet tonight, the Christmas lights twinkling as if in afterthought, the people coming in and out subdued. It was a Monday evening, so maybe that had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the light snow falling outside that gave everything a hushed feeling.

  She tucked her chin further down into her fluffy scarf and peered through her glasses at the computer screen. Numbers. Lots and lots of numbers. This was where she was most comfortable when things in her life got a little too discombobulated. She could open up her computer and make sense of numbers. When added, subtracted, or multiplied, numbers always gave her the same consistent answers.

  She took a sip of her hot peppermint tea and looked up when a tall, broad-shouldered man walked through the door.

  Her heart, which had been beating evenly before, began thumping behind her breastbone.

  EJ saw her and smiled. God, he was hot. He wore work clothes today, khakis and a collared shirt with a black North Face vest. Professional, but very outdoorsy. Very Montana.

  She smiled back as he walked over, and pushed her glasses up.

  “Have time for a drink?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. They’d talked on the phone since the other day, but she hadn’t seen him in person yet. Seeing him was doing funny things to her belly, because all she could think about was how his mouth had felt on hers.

  “I was just about to ask you the same thing,” he said, sitting down. “I was going to treat Joe tonight, and he said you were here working. Thought I’d stop by on my way.”

  She could smell the faint scent of his aftershave. His strawberry-blond hair was less unruly tonight than it had been a few days ago, but it still brushed his collar temptingly. She knew he’d gone snowboarding yesterday, and the sun showed on his face—his skin was tan, with sexy white crinkles next to his eyes. His lips were pale and a little chapped, making her want to run her fingers over them.

  Sitting up straighter, she closed her laptop and folded her hands on the table.

  He seemed to sense her nerves and smiled that easy Ryan Gosling smile he had going on. He put one arm over the booth and leaned back like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he did this every day, this making-women-swoon thing.

  Butterflies bumped around in her stomach. Maybe he did, for all she knew. Maybe every female in a fifty-mile radius was hot for EJ Corpa. That wouldn’t exactly be a surprise.

  “Getting much done?” he asked.

  She glanced out the window. “Trying. But the snow’s making it hard. I want to go play in it.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “How long has it been since you just stood in the snow and enjoyed it for what it is?”

  “I...”

  Leaning forward, he put his elbows on the table. “You what?”

  “Well, when we went up looking for the tree...”

  “That doesn’t count. You almost got frostbite. I’m talking about really experiencing it. Like when you were a kid.”

  The truth was, she hadn’t been excited about snow since she’d been little, just like he said. Something about Marietta, the way the whole town seemed to be eagerly awaiting Christmas, was bringing that anticipation back again. That giddy feeling which made it hard to concentrate on anything other than the shop windows, warm cinnamon pastries, and the color of EJ’s eyes. It was ridiculous.

  She ran her fingers along the rich, dark wood of the table. “I guess it’s been a long time.”

  A waiter came over and put his hands on his hips. “Can I get you folks anything?”

  “No, thank you,” EJ said. “In fact, we’re gonna step outside for a few. Will her laptop be okay till we get back?”

  “Sure thing. I’ll keep an eye on it.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  The waiter sauntered off, and EJ reached for Jemma’s hand. “Come on.”

  “What? I don’t...”

  “Your computer will be fine. Your work isn’t going anywhere. Five minutes.”

  A slow smile crept across her lips. “Just to experience the snow.”

  “Abso-damn-lutely. Come on.”

  After taking her glasses off and setting them on her computer, she let him help her out of the booth. They crossed the bar with her hand tucked securely in his. She leaned into his warm, solid side and felt a few envious glances from the women in the room. EJ most certainly did not blend in.

  When they got to the doors leading outside, he leaned forward and pushed one open for her. “Ladies first,” he said.

  She took a deep breath as the icy air whispered against her face.

  Jemma stepped outside, making a conscious decision to savor the moment. She listened to the crunch of the snow beneath her suede boots, felt the chill of the snowflakes falling on her scalp, against her skin. The world was silent, with only the occasional car passing by, the headlights illuminating the snowflakes for the briefest of moments.

  EJ walked up behind her and bent to kiss her neck. She shivered, closing her eyes.

  “Pretty great, right?”

  “It really is.”

  “I think we might’ve done things a little backward, princess.�
�

  At that, she turned and looked up at him. “What?”

  He held her hands in his, keeping them warm. “We’ve kissed, but I haven’t taken you on a date yet.”

  Honestly, she was just so happy about the kissing part that the date part hadn’t even occurred to her.

  “Luckily for you, I’m easy,” she said.

  “Honey, you’re anything but easy.”

  He’d never called her honey before. It made her warm in places the snow couldn’t touch.

  “What about picking out the Christmas tree at the lot?” she asked. “We could grab dinner afterward?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll get the tree, but that’s business.”

  “If that’s business, we have a one-hundred-percent history of messing around on the job.”

  He maintained a perfectly straight face, something that never failed to attract her. “Whatever we have to do to make a magical tree together is what we have to do.”

  She grinned.

  “I’m talking about a date,” he continued. “I’m thinking ice-skating and dinner afterward.”

  Her heart skipped at the thought. Ice-skating at Miracle Lake... It was the most perfect, romantic, Christmassy date she could possibly imagine.

  “How did you know I’ve wanted to do that ever since I got here?”

  “Because you’re a girl and girls love that shit.”

  She raised her brows.

  “Okay. I might like it a little, too. I’m a bad son of a bitch on skates.”

  “Roller or ice?”

  “Both.”

  “This I have to see to believe.”

  “Believe it, sister.”

  She laughed, the snow falling harder now. The night was perfection, the man, even more so. And it was just an ordinary Monday evening, nothing to write home about. Until now.