Their Christmas Family Miracle

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘Tull?’

  ‘He thinks it’s a rattle,’ Edward explained. ‘Look, Thomas, it opens, and you can put these bits in. See this one? It’s a square. Look!’

  And Thomas stared, fascinated, as the little shape went into the hole as if by magic, and Jake stared, just as fascinated, it seemed, and Millie blinked away the tears and looked back under the tree. There were still two presents there, and Kitty dived under and pulled them out.

  ‘This is for Rufus, and this one’s for you,’ she said, handing Millie a soft, squashy parcel.

  ‘Me?’ she said, horribly conscious that she hadn’t bought him anything, or made him anything or in fact done anything except make his already difficult life even harder.

  She swallowed and met his eyes, and he smiled tentatively. ‘Go on, open it. It’s only silly.’

  ‘I haven’t—’

  ‘Shh. Open it.’

  So she did, and when she saw the fingerless mitts that could turn into proper mittens, her eyes filled. He’d listened to what she’d said about not being able to do anything with gloves on, and he’d found her a solution.

  A silly, crazy pink solution, with a matching scarf that was soft and cosy and gorgeous, and her eyes flooded with tears that she could no longer hold back.

  ‘You’ve made Mummy cry,’ Kitty said, staring at her, and Edward looked at her worriedly, but she dredged up a smile and scrubbed her cheeks with the heels of her hands and met Jake’s eyes.

  ‘I’m fine, really. Thank you, Jake. Thank you for everything.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘What about the dog’s?’

  ‘I hope it’s not food.’

  ‘It’s not food. Here, open it,’ he said, handing it to her, and she knelt up beside him and tore off the paper and her eyes filled again.

  ‘It’s a coat!’ she said, choked. ‘Oh, thank you, he’s been miserable in the cold and he hates the rain. Oh, that’s lovely.’

  And then, because she couldn’t hold back any longer, she leant over and hugged him. Not as hard as Kitty, careful of his bruises, but hard enough that he would know she really meant it.

  And he hugged her back, his arms warm and hard and strong around her, and it would have been so easy to sink into them and stay there for the rest of the day.

  The rest of her life.

  No!

  She straightened up, blinking away fresh tears and scrambling to her feet. ‘Right, let’s put all this paper in the bin and tidy up, and then we need to get dressed, and come back down and have breakfast, and then we’ve got the world’s biggest snowman to build!’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WAS the most magical day.

  They’d all gone upstairs to wash and dress, and Jake had called her back and asked her to help him.

  ‘I could do with a shower, but I don’t want to get the new cast wet and I didn’t do so well yesterday. Could you tape this bag over my arm?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, putting Thomas on the floor, and he handed her the bag and some tape, and then shucked off his robe so he was standing in front of her in nothing more than snug-fitting jersey boxers that sent her heart rate rocketing. Until she saw his bruises, and they took her breath away.

  ‘Oh, Jake—you’re black and blue!’

  He smiled wryly. ‘Tell me about it. Still, I’m alive. It could have been worse. And it’s better today.’

  She wasn’t convinced, but she stuck the bag on his arm and stood back, trying not to look at him and not really succeeding, because her eyes were relentlessly drawn to his taut, well-muscled chest with its scatter of dark curls, to the strong, straight legs with their spectacular muscles and equally spectacular bruises. ‘Can you manage now?’ she asked, trying to sound businesslike and obviously failing, because his right eyebrow twitched.

  ‘Why?’ he asked, his voice low and his eyes dancing with mischief. ‘Are you offering to wash my back?’

  ‘On second thoughts,’ she said and, scooping Thomas up, she left him to it and concentrated—barely—on dressing her children and making breakfast for them all before she put Thomas down for a nap and they wrapped up warmly and went out into the snow.

  The snowman was huge—probably not the biggest in the world, but huge for all that—and Jake had found his old ski hat and scarf and they’d raided the fridge for a carrot—and two sprouts for his eyes, ‘because,’ Kitty said, ‘they’re too disgusting to eat.’ Edward found a twig that looked like a pipe to stick in his mouth. Then, when the snowman was finished, standing in pride of place outside the breakfast room window so he could watch them eat, they came back inside, hung their coats in the boiler room to dry, and settled down by the fire in the drawing room to watch a film while they warmed up.

  She flitted between the film and the kitchen, making sure everything was set in motion at the right time like a military operation and laying the table in the breakfast room, because, as Jake said, the dining room was too formal for having fun in. Not to mention too beautiful for Thomas to hurl his dinner across the room or for Kitty to ‘accidentally’ shoot peas off the edge of her plate for the dog to find, and anyway, it was a long way from the kitchen.

  So she put out the crackers and the cutlery and the jolly red and green paper napkins with reindeer on, and a big white pillar candle they’d bought in the supermarket standing on a red plate. In between doing that and checking on the meal, she sat with her family and Jake, squeezing up next to Edward, while Thomas sat wedged between him and Jake, and Kitty had found herself a little place on Jake’s lap, with his arm round her and her head on his shoulder and her thumb in her mouth. The next time she came in he had Thomas on his lap instead, standing on his leg and trying to climb over the arm of the sofa.

  ‘I think he’s bored,’ Jake said softly, and Thomas looked up at her and beamed and held up his arms, and she scooped him up and hugged him.

  ‘Hungry too, probably.’

  ‘Is it lunchtime yet?’ Kitty asked hopefully. ‘I’m starving!’

  ‘Nearly.’

  ‘Can I help?’

  Could he? Could she cope with him in the kitchen, that strong, hard, battered body so close to hers in the confined space?

  She nearly laughed. What was she thinking about? It wasn’t confined, it was huge—but it had seemed confined this morning, while he was making her tea and she was in the pyjamas he’d teased her about and he was in a robe with melted snow on the shoulders and dripping off his hair and those curiously sexy bare feet planted squarely on the tiled floor.

  And now she knew what had been under that robe, it would be all the harder…

  ‘I don’t really know what you can do,’ she said, but he followed her anyway, and he managed one-handed to make himself very useful. He helped lift the turkey out of the dish, entertained Thomas while she warmed his lunch, and then blew on it and fed him while she made the gravy and put everything out into the serving dishes he’d found for her.

  ‘Lunch!’ she called, sticking her head round the door, and they came pelting down the hall and skidded into the breakfast room.

  ‘Oh, it looks really pretty!’ Kitty said. Jake lit the candle and she carried in the turkey and knew how Tiny Tim’s mother must have felt when Scrooge gave them the goose.

  The food was delicious, and the children piled in, eating themselves to a standstill, and still there was enough there to feed an army.

  ‘I hope you’ve got a nice line in leftover recipes,’ Jake murmured as he carried it out to the kitchen and put it on the side, making her laugh.

  ‘Oh, I have. I can turn anything into a meal. Have you got any brandy to put over the pudding?’

  ‘I have—and holly. I picked it this morning. Here.’

  He turned off the lights, and she carried in the flaming pudding by candlelight, making the children ooh and aah. Then, when they couldn’t manage another mouthful, they cleared the table and put on their warm, dry coats and went back out in the garden for a walk, with Rufus in his smart new tartan coat and
Thomas snuggled on her hip in his all-in-one suit. When the children had run around and worked off their lunch and the adults had strolled all down the long walk from the house towards the woods, they turned back.

  And, right in the middle of the lawn outside the bay window, Kitty stopped.

  ‘We have to make snow angels!’ she said. ‘Come on, everybody!’

  ‘Snow angels?’ Jake said, his voice taut, and Millie looked at him worriedly. Was this another memory they were trampling on? Oh, dear lord—

  ‘Yes—all of us! Come on, Jake, you’re the biggest, you can be the daddy angel!’

  And, oblivious to the shocked reluctance on his face, she dragged him by the arm, made him lie down, and lay down beside him with her arms and legs outstretched and fanned them back and forth until she’d cleared the snow, and then she got up, laughing and pulled him to his feet.

  ‘Look! You’re so big!’ she said with a giggle. ‘Mummy, you lie down there on the other side, and then Edward, and Thomas, too—’

  ‘Not Thomas, darling, he’s too small, he doesn’t understand.’

  ‘Well, Jake can hold him while you and Edward make your snow angels,’ she said, bossy and persistent to the last. She looked into Jake’s eyes and saw gentle resignation.

  ‘I’ll take him,’ he said softly and, reaching out, he scooped him onto his right hip and held him firmly, one-handed, while she and Edward carved out their shapes in the snow, and then she took her baby back and they went inside to look, shedding their wet clothes all over again, only this time their trousers were wet as well, and they had to go up and change.

  ‘Hey, you guys, come and look,’ Jake called from his room, and they followed him in and stood in the bay window looking down on the little row of snow angels.

  ‘That’s so pretty!’ Kitty said. ‘Jake, take a picture!’

  So he got out his phone and snapped a picture, then went along the landing and took another of the snowman. Afterwards they all went downstairs again and Kitty got out her book, and Edward got out the construction kit, and they set them up at the far end of the breakfast table and busied themselves while she loaded the dishwasher and cleared up the pots and pans.

  There was no sign of Jake, but at least Thomas in his cot had stopped grizzling and settled into sleep.

  Or so she thought, until Jake appeared in the doorway with her little son on his hip.

  ‘He’s a bit sorry for himself,’ Jake said with a tender smile, and handed him over. ‘Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a cup of tea?’

  ‘Because I’m supposed to be looking after you and all you’ve done is make me tea!’

  ‘You’ve been on your feet all day. Go on, shoo. I’ll do it. Anyway, I can’t sit, I’m too full.’

  She laughed at that, and took Thomas through to the breakfast room, put him in his high chair with his shape sorter puzzle and sat down with the children while she waited for her tea.

  ‘Mummy, I can’t do this. I can’t work it out,’ Edward said, staring at the instructions and the zillions of pieces he was trying to put together. It was complicated—more complicated than anything he’d tackled yet, but she was sure he’d be able to do it.

  And how clever of Jake to realise that he was very bright, she thought, as she saw the kit was for older children. Bright and brave and hugely talented in all sorts of ways, and yet his father couldn’t see it—just saw a quiet child with nothing to say for himself and no apparent personality.

  Well, it was his loss, she thought, but of course it wasn’t—it was Edward’s, too, that he was so undervalued by the man who should have been so proud of him, should have nurtured and encouraged him. It wouldn’t have occurred to David to look into choir school. He would have thought it was sissy.

  But there was nothing—nothing—sissy about Jake. In fact he was a lot like Edward—thorough, meticulous, paying attention to detail, noticing the little things, fixing stuff, making it right.

  The nurturer, she realised, and wondered if he’d spent his childhood trying to stick his family back together again when clearly, from what she’d overheard, it had been broken beyond repair. How sad that when he’d found his own, it had been torn away from him.

  And then he came out and sat down with them all, on the opposite side of the table, and slid the tea across to her. Edward looked up at him and said, ‘Can you give me a hand?’

  ‘Sure. What’s the problem?’ he asked, and bent his head over the instructions, sorted through the pieces and found the missing bit. ‘I think this needs to go in here,’ he said, and handed it to Edward. Didn’t take over, didn’t do it for him, did just enough to help him on his way and then sat back and let him do it.

  He did, of course, bit by bit, with the occasional input from Jake to keep him on the straight and narrow, but there was a worrying touch of hero worship in his voice. She only hoped they could all get through this and emerge unscathed without too many broken hopes and dreams, because, although Jake was doing nothing she could fault, Edward was lapping up every moment of his attention, desperate for a father figure in his life, for a man who understood him.

  And she was dreading the day they moved out, to wherever they ended up, and she had to take him away from Jake.

  She doubted Jake was dreading it. He was putting up with the invasion of his privacy with incredible fortitude, but she had no doubts at all that he’d be glad when they left and he could settle back into his own routine without all the painful reminders.

  Sadly, she didn’t think it would be any time soon, but all too quickly reality was going to intervene and she’d have to start sending out her CV again and trying to get another job. Maybe Jake would let her use the Internet so she could do that.

  But not now. It was Christmas, and she was going to keep smiling and make sure everyone enjoyed it.

  Jake included.

  He thought the day would never end.

  It had been fun—much more fun than he could have imagined—but it was also painful. Physically, because he was still sore from his encounter with the trees and the rocks in France, and emotionally, because the kids were great and it just underlined exactly what he’d lost.

  And until that day, he’d avoided thinking about it, had shut his heart and his mind to such thoughts.

  But he couldn’t shut them out any more; they seeped in, like light round the edges of a blind, and while Millie was putting the children to bed he went into his little sitting room and closed the door. There was a video of them all taken on Ben’s second birthday, and he’d never watched it again, but it was there, tormenting him.

  So he put it on, and he watched his little son and the wife he’d loved to bits laughing into the camera, and he let the tears fall. Healing tears—tears that washed away the pain and left bittersweet memories of happier days. Full days.

  Days like today.

  And then he took the DVD out and put it away again, and lay down on the sofa and dozed. He was tired, he realised. He’d slept well last night, but not for long, and today had been a long day. He’d go to bed later, but for now he was comfortable, and if he kept out of the way Amelia wouldn’t feel she had to talk to him when she’d rather be doing something—probably anything—else.

  She’d done well. Brilliantly. The meal had been fabulous, and he was still full. Maybe he’d have a sandwich later, start on the pile of cold turkey that would be on the menu into the hereafter. Turkey and cold stuffing and cranberry sauce.

  But later. Not now. Now, he was sleeping…

  ‘That was the best day,’ Edward said, snuggling down under the quilt and smiling at her. ‘Jake’s really cool.’

  ‘He’s been very kind,’ she said, wondering how she could take Jake gently off this pedestal without shattering Edward’s illusions, ‘but we are in his way.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to mind.’

  ‘That’s because he’s a very kind man, very generous.’

  ‘That’s what Kate said—that he was generous.’ He rolled onto hi
s back and folded his arms under his head. ‘Did you know he went to choir school?’

  ‘Yes—I heard him tell you,’ she said. ‘I’d just come downstairs.’

  ‘He said it was great. Hard work, but he loved it there. He was a boarder, did you know that? He had to sleep there, but he said his mum and dad used to fight, and he was always in the way, so it was good, really.’

  She was just opening her mouth to comment when Edward went on diffidently, ‘Were we in the way? Was that why Dad left?’

  Her heart aching, she hugged him. ‘No, darling. He left because he realised he didn’t love me any more, and it wouldn’t have been right to stay.’

  He hadn’t loved the children either, but there was no way she was telling Edward that his father had used them as a lever to get her to agree to things she wouldn’t otherwise have countenanced. Things like remortgaging their house so riskily, because otherwise, he said, they’d be homeless.

  Well, they were homeless now, and he’d had to flee the country to escape the debt, so a lot of good it had done to prolong it. And why on earth she’d let him back last year so that she’d ended up pregnant again, she couldn’t imagine. She must have been insane, and he’d gone again long before she’d realised about the baby.

  Not that she’d send Thomas back, not for a moment, but life had become infinitely more complicated with another youngster.

  She’d have to work on her CV, she thought, and wondered what Jake was doing and if he’d let her use the Internet to download a template so she could lay it out better.

  ‘You need to go to sleep,’ she said softly, and bent over and kissed Edward’s cheek. ‘Come on, snuggle down.’

  ‘Can we play in the snow again tomorrow?’ he asked sleepily, and she nodded.

  ‘Of course—if it’s still there.’

  ‘It will be. Jake said.’

  And if Jake had said…

  She went out and pulled the door to, leaving the landing light on for them, and after checking on the sleeping baby she went back downstairs, expecting to find Jake in the breakfast room or the drawing room.