The Christmas House

by Victoria James

  “See, your dad is pretty organized,” she said, giving Sam a little wink.

  Sam brought the remaining ingredients to the island, where Charlotte was setting up a cutting board and lining up the ingredients. “Do you like cooking?” Sam asked, sitting on the other side of the island.

  Charlotte paused for a second, brushing aside the memories. “Not really … but I kind of had to learn at an early age how to put things together. I was a sandwich master,” she said with a short laugh as she began thinly slicing the apples.

  “Really? How come?”

  Charlotte paused, making sure to keep any bitterness out of her voice. She smiled as Sam leaned across the island and took a slice of apple. “My mom had a lot of … issues when I was growing up, and my dad had a demanding job. My sister was a few years younger than me so I used to make our school lunches and after-school snacks. I usually made some kind of simple dinner too.”

  “Wow, that’s kind of rough. I’d be kind of pissed if I had to do all that,” Sam said, staring at her with a strange expression.

  Charlotte shrugged. “It wasn’t so bad. It made me independent, that’s for sure. I also didn’t really have a choice. Your dad seems like he’s amazing and has it all together, but that’s actually really hard to do. He’s got a tough job, and he’s got a daughter he obviously loves more than anything. I didn’t do any extracurricular stuff because there wasn’t a willing parent and there wasn’t extra money.”

  Sam’s face fell and Charlotte hoped she hadn’t pushed too far. “He’s a good dad,” she said softly.

  Charlotte opened the sealed pack of ham. “Oh, I hope I didn’t make you feel bad. I wasn’t trying to. I just think it’s so great you’re involved in ballet and you have this dad who tries so hard for you.”

  “You didn’t make me feel bad. Sometimes it’s easy to forget all that,” she said softly.

  Charlotte held the girl’s gaze and smiled. “I can understand that.”

  Sam nodded and fiddled with the apple slice she was holding. “Yeah. He is a really good dad.”

  “I also like to think that we learn from all our life experiences. If I hadn’t had to be so independent from an early age, then maybe I wouldn’t have started my own business.”

  “Good point. I’d like to be able to boss people around if I had my own business,” Sam said.

  Charlotte laughed. “Yeah, that always sounds better than it is.”

  “Can I help?” Sam asked.

  “Sure. Why don’t you spread the red pepper jelly on each slice of toast? Just a thin layer,” Charlotte said, handing Sam a knife.

  “Did you grow up in Silver Springs?” Sam asked while diligently spreading the jelly.

  “No. In the city. But I came here a lot to visit my grandma. And my sister and I spent most summers here with her,” she said, counting out the slices of ham.

  “I miss Toronto,” Sam said, with a slight frown on her face.

  “I know it’s hard to adjust to new places and people, but this a great little town. My grandma has said that she’s met the kindest people here.”

  Sam shrugged and placed the knife down when she was finished. “They’re okay.”

  “Except for the weird ones?” Charlotte teased, desperate to lighten the mood.

  Sam let out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess. Things just keep changing.”

  Charlotte placed the ham over the jelly on half the pieces of bread. “I can’t say I’m a fan of change either, Sam. I kind of like things to stay the same, but that’s not realistic. Life is filled with change. We change. The better we are at accepting that, the easier it gets.”

  Sam nodded. “That makes sense.”

  It was strange, being in this kitchen and talking about life with a girl she’d only met the day before. But Charlotte felt like she understood Sam. She had pushed people away for so long, and suddenly she was back in Silver Springs surrounded by people who needed her on some level. Sam had a vulnerability she tried to keep hidden, but it came out in revealing sentences. Charlotte sensed that Wyatt was a great dad and was trying his best, but getting a teenage daughter through all these changes couldn’t be easy. And for Sam, she was pretty sure that no matter how amazing her dad was, certain topics could be pretty awkward. She added the slices of cheese and pushed aside all these thoughts—these were thoughts of a person who was getting involved. These people were still strangers to her. Wyatt wasn’t a fourteen-year-old boy anymore.

  In a few weeks she’d be long gone. Back to living her perfect little life with color-coded weeks filled with nothing but work. The Christmas House had never really been home, only her little escape from reality. Just like Wyatt had never really been hers, just a schoolgirl’s hero.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  JULY 18, 1969

  SILVER SPRINGS

  Ruby clutched the underside of her belly as a deep, gnawing pain coursed across it. She stood perfectly still and tried to breathe. After a few endless moments, the pain slowly eased so that she was able to continue pulling down the clean clothes from the clothesline. Her months at this home had been filled with growth and introspection. When she’d left home on Christmas Eve, she had been a naïve, sheltered girl. She’d had an idealistic view of the world. Now she knew what it meant to be an adult, to find her way in a world that could be cold and cruel. But she’d also learned that there were good people out there, people whose compassion was bigger than their judgment.

  This house, this rambling, old, majestic home would be something at Christmas. It was truly a Christmas house and she felt very grateful to be a part of it. Her son or daughter would grow up here, and she would teach them every day to appreciate it. She would hold her head up high and she would never let them know the shame she kept buried deep down inside. She would never let them think that they were less than their peers with perfect families. She would tell her child their father had died of a heart attack. That he loved them and he was watching over them from above. If she had been a better person, she would have hoped that was true, but she wasn’t and she hoped that he couldn’t see them. She hoped that he was being punished for leaving her like this. Maybe one day she would be able to forgive Richard, but not now. The humiliation and hurt was still buried deep inside her.

  “Ruby?”

  Ruby stilled, her hand on a clothespin, ready to pull down a nightgown, when an unmistakable voice pierced through her thoughts. Harry. Richard’s older brother. Her hands started shaking, and she couldn’t bring herself to turn around. Why would he be here? How had he found her? His defense of her had been a soothing balm that night, but she was sure he would have changed his mind by now. She didn’t want to see that in his eyes too. Not now, when she was healing.

  “Ruby, it’s me, Harry.”

  Ruby dropped her arms and turned slowly, squinting against the afternoon sun, and focused on the man standing there, hat in hand. Harry was as handsome as always, tall and fit. She finally forced herself to raise her eyes to his, her stomach churning, her muscles tightly wound, until she saw nothing but … surprise and then sympathy on his face.

  “Hello, Harry,” she forced herself to say, her voice sounding shaky to her own ears. She kept her chin tilted up, though, because she would never look down in disgrace again, no matter how hard it was.

  “You’re looking well,” he said, holding his hat in her direction.

  She put a hand on the small of her back, a new habit that had formed these last few weeks. “Thank you. I don’t imagine you’re here to see how I look.”

  His strong jaw clenched, and something flashed across his eyes. “Ruby, I’m sorry. For everything. For Richard, for my parents.”

  She swallowed past the lump in her throat and struggled to maintain her composure. She hadn’t expected that. But Harry had always been different. He’d been more serious than Richard, who had thrived on being the life of the party and making people laugh. Harry had stood on the sidelines, serious, brooding maybe, but always a gentleman. “Thank you,” she m
anaged to say.

  He winced. “It’s not enough, I know. And if my brother were alive, I would have throttled him for what he put you through.”

  She almost smiled, but it was all so sad and … embarrassing. She didn’t know what he must think of her. Certainly he thought she was someone with loose morals, even if he felt sorry for her. Really, she wanted him to leave so that she could go back to her new life. The one where she was a poor young widow with a baby on the way and no family to speak of. She didn’t want to face the reality of who she really was unless she was alone in her room at night. “Thank you, but I’m doing just fine. It … is kind of you to say that, though.”

  He took a step closer to her and her pulse raced in a way that she hadn’t expected. His green eyes were filled with something she hadn’t seen before, and her mouth went dry as he reached out to grasp her hand. She pulled it back as though she’d been burned. A searing heat scorched her body at the feel of his large, warm hand on hers. It was something she’d never experienced before. She didn’t know what it was. That had never happened with Richard.

  “I’m sorry if that was too forward. Ruby, I came to ask for your hand. I will make this right, I will right Richard’s wrong. I will give you a roof over your head and raise this baby like my own.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and the world tilted ever so slightly, but Harry was there, grasping her arms. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice rough and filled with a worry that wrapped itself around her heart.

  She shut her eyes for a moment and nodded. In that moment, she imagined what it would be like to be his wife, to play pretend family. It was enticing. Wonderfully so. But she’d learned her lesson. No man. She would rely on no man. Ever again. “I’m sorry, Harry. I … I can’t accept your offer.”

  Surprise flickered across his eyes and maybe something else. But she couldn’t wonder at it. She needed to stay focused and continue with the plan she’d laid out for herself. “I can offer you a good life, Ruby. I’m almost finished law school. We can be a good couple. I … wouldn’t pressure you into anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  Goosebumps sprang up across her body at the realization that she had been a fool. This man was a real man. But she would never trust anyone again, and she wouldn’t ruin his life. “Harry, you’re a good man, but I can’t expect you to raise your brother’s child as your own. I can’t ruin your life like that. You deserve to marry someone you love, to have your own family.”

  He looked down for a moment and then back up at her, the expression in his eyes making her forget to breathe. “Marrying you would not be ruining my life.”

  She fought against the heaviness in her chest, the fluttering in her heart. “I can’t. Thank you, but I can’t. I’ve become someone new in these last few months, and I’m determined to do this on my own. And I will. Please just forget about me and live your life. I know you’ll have a good one.”

  “Ruby,” he said, his voice thick as he took a step closer to her.

  She shook her head and took a step back, closer to the life she was going to live, farther from him and the life he was offering. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to get back to work.”

  He pulled a thick envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. She stared at it but didn’t reach for it. “It’s my savings from my job this last year. Please take it.”

  She drew a deep breath. “I … I … that is incredibly generous, but I can’t take it.”

  “I won’t leave unless you take it. I can’t. I can’t leave you like this, Ruby. Take it, even if you never use it. Have it for peace of mind. Or take it for my own peace of mind. Please.”

  She reached for the envelope, so very aware that her own parents hadn’t done this for her. She was also aware that she would never use this money. She would save it for her child one day. “Thank you, Harry.”

  “Ruby … if you ever need me, you can contact me at P. Williamson Barrister and Solicitor in Toronto. I … anything you need, I’ll be here for you.”

  Tears blurred her vision and she forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. You go and have a good life, Harry.”

  He gave her a nod, his green eyes glistening, his jaw hard. “You too.”

  * * *

  Wyatt walked through the front door after a day he’d rather forget and was dreaming of a cold beer and takeout pizza and maybe passing out on the sofa since it was the only night this week without ballet. But he was pretty sure he’d come into the wrong home. Christmas music was coming from the kitchen, his daughter was actually laughing at something that wasn’t him, and he didn’t trip over her usual heap of belongings.

  But the biggest shock was overhearing the conversation happening in the kitchen. He’d assumed that Charlotte would be long gone by now, but her sweet voice was unmistakable, and he felt an odd ache in his chest when he heard her saying how hard he worked and what a good dad he must be. The emotional punch had then come from his daughter actually admitting that he was a good dad.

  Just hearing that made the attitude he knew he’d face from Sam later on almost tolerable. He’d spent his entire adult life trying to give her the childhood he’d never had, even though it wasn’t ideal. He and Leanne weren’t supposed to be teenage parents. But he’d loved Sam more than anything in the world. Leanne walking out on them was something he blamed himself for daily. He’d thought that even though they were young, they had a chance. That wasn’t the way Sam’s life was supposed to go, and he didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself for that. He had learned the hard way how to be a father—mostly following instincts and doing the opposite of what his father had done. It had worked up until Sam hit puberty. Now Wyatt was fumbling around in the dark.

  He hung his coat in the hall closet, and for the first time in forever, hung it next to his daughter’s already hanging one and then made his way into the kitchen.

  He stopped short in the doorway, still unnoticed. A lump formed in his throat at the sight of Charlotte at the island with Sam, cooking together, as though this were perfectly natural for them. His daughter’s face was relaxed, and she was listening intently and following Charlotte’s instructions on where to place the apples.

  Charlotte glanced up, startled to see him there, and damn if eye contact with her didn’t send a jolt of awareness through his body.

  “Hi, sorry if I startled you,” he said, remembering he wasn’t a teenager anymore, and walked into his kitchen. “Hey, Sam,” he said, leaning over to kiss the top of her head.

  “Hey,” she said, and lo and behold, she looked up and gave him a smile.

  He had no idea what was happening, but if Charlotte was the reason his daughter was actually being warm and kind and like the kid he remembered before the hell of twelve, then he was indebted to her forever.

  “Charlotte, you don’t have to do all this. I think this goes beyond a gift certificate’s worth of organizing.”

  Her cheeks turned slightly pink. “Well, not really. It’s not a big deal because they’re just sandwiches. I was emptying out the pantry and fridge and it was getting close to dinner, so …”

  He shoved his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. “Really. This is very nice of you.”

  She waved a hand. “Seriously, it’s not a big deal. I was just going to toss together a salad too. This tray can go in the oven for like five minutes,” she said, walking to the fridge to get the package of prewashed lettuce, which was, for him, basically even too much effort to open and put together some days.

  “You’re staying for dinner, right?” Sam asked, worry tinging her voice.

  Charlotte glanced over at him then back at Sam. “Oh, I wasn’t planning on it. It’ll be really easy for you and your dad to put this together.”

  Sam made a face. “He burns everything.”

  Wyatt choked out a laugh. He wasn’t offended because it was true—he did burn everything—but he also knew his daughter was just desperate to have Charlotte stay. Maybe as desperate as he was. There was
a light in here now, and he wanted to cling to it. “We’d love it if you could stay. I mean, how am I going to repay you for making dinner too? At least eat with us and I can get you a glass of wine to go with dinner?”

  Charlotte’s mouth opened slightly, and it drew his attention to her full lips again. “Um, that’s really nice of you guys, but I need to get going. This was really no trouble. I knew you were busy with work and I was here anyway,” she said, scrambling to gather her notebooks and cramming them in her bag.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, her explanation reminding him of what she used to tell him about home. He could probably remember almost every conversation they’d had about their home lives. She cooked at home. She cooked to make life okay, easier, for her mom and dad. He quickly surveyed the kitchen, her expression, Sam’s. Charlotte was doing the same thing here. She was cheering up his daughter, she was making his day easier. Hell. It made him feel like crap. He’d kept his distance. Or tried to. And she was here, opening herself up to Sam. He owed her more than dinner.

  “Bye, Sam. I had a great time today,” she said, flashing his daughter a big smile.

  Sam gave her a forced smile, the light gone from her eyes. “Me too, Charlotte. I’ll be here tomorrow,” she said, insecurity lining her voice.

  “Great. I’m looking forward to it,” she said, before walking out of the room.

  “Sam, I’m just going to walk Charlotte home. I’ll lock the door behind me,” he said.

  “Sure,” she said, picking up her phone.

  He frowned, lingering in the doorway. It was his fault that Sam was disappointed and that Charlotte was leaving. “We’ll have a good night. Maybe we can catch a Christmas movie and eat dinner in front of the TV,” he said.

  “Uh, sure,” she said, shooting him a distracted smile.

  Well, that wasn’t too bad. He walked to the entrance only to find Charlotte ready to leave. “Hey, I’ll walk you home.”