by Rula Sinara
He’d have to talk to the Harpers. Eric would soon be back to doing all the things he used to. Would he and Nina be able to act as guardians for three grandkids? Was that asking too much? With a solid salary, though, he could hire someone to help them out, full-time if they wanted. He’d do that. And he’d rent his house to Coop if he wanted. He could have it arranged and rigged for whatever his needs were. He’d have him stay there for free, only Coop wouldn’t go for that, and he wasn’t going to cut the man’s pride any lower than it was right now. He’d keep it cheap, though. And if he did get a dog, he’d have the room he needed. He didn’t in that tiny apartment.
He’d taken Cooper to a few of his appointments last week. The VA was a stickler for making sure they distinguished between an ailment caused by an injury or exposure during service and a disease that was unrelated. The optometrist who’d originally picked up on Coop’s nerve damage during a routine exam Coop had gone in for because of frustration with his vision had been right. And between those records, and the extensive test results and the opinion of a neuro-ophthalmologist that came highly recommended, no one could argue the cause. But things weren’t looking good for his left eye. The doctor hoped they could slow down progression in the right and save some of his central vision. There were no guarantees.
Ben pulled his phone out of his front pocket and scrolled down to the Harpers’ number. It was late. Late enough for Eric and Nina to have gone to bed. It had been past the kids’ bedtime by the time he and Hope had returned from dropping Brie back off at Bentley’s. Hope had wanted to go inside with her, but Brie had insisted she’d be okay. Ben felt rotten to the core. Yet another plan of his had failed. He knew strategy and tactics…just not here in civilian life.
The kids and Hope were in bed. He wanted to wake her up. Just to talk. He wanted to hear her voice.
He cursed himself. It was wrong. It was wrong of him to want that. Or to have kissed her. It didn’t matter that Zoe wasn’t alive and that the last time he’d seen her in person had lasted less than thirty minutes eight months ago and had been ten months after his prior leave. Other than a few short Skype visits, they hadn’t been together in almost a year and a half. But she was still his Zoe.
He walked over to the tree teasing him with ornaments. He hadn’t really taken a close look at them. He’d let Maddie and Chad do most of the hanging because more than that would have been asking too much. Hope had helped them reach a few higher branches. The kids’ three first-Christmas ones were clustered near each other. Another stood out. A small silver frame engraved with First Anniversary. He removed it from the branch. Inside the frame was a copy of an ultrasound. Maddie’s. Shrunk to fit. His eyes burned, and the muscles on the sides of his neck became corded and tight. Zoe had put that black-and-white copy in there because he had been gone. They couldn’t take a celebratory picture together, and she’d wanted something from that moment in time. He hadn’t even been here for that.
He put the ornament back and swallowed the tears that threatened. Zoe had deserved so much more. He’d taken away her life from the start. She’d given up college and pursuing a degree in the arts just a few months after they’d gotten married and he was scheduled to deploy. She’d gotten pregnant, and the morning sickness had had her floored the first three months. He did remember that, because guilt was a hard thing to let go of. She’d spent their marriage living like a single mother of three. And each year their focus had turned more and more to the kids. Her raising them and him providing. It had been hard not to become strangers to some extent.
And now he couldn’t even keep everything she’d devoted herself to building—a home and family of three fantastic kids—from falling apart. He’d wasted her life. She’d left him with the ultimate gift, and he was breaking it.
He bent his knees and crouched in the middle of the room. He rocked on his heels and held his head in his hands.
Forgive me, Zoe. Please, forgive me. I wasn’t here for you, but I did love you.
With that, months and months of holding it all in came to an end.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dear Diary,
I saw Daddy kissing Miss Hope. Chad saw it, too. I put my finger to his lips, but he’s such a blabbermouth. I don’t want anyone talking about it. I don’t want it ruined. I don’t want to say something that will make Hope or Daddy go away.
HOPE HAD WOKEN UP the morning after they’d put up the tree and found Maddie curled next to her, sound asleep. Less than a week till Christmas. She was glad school vacation had started because Maddie looked so at peace. She didn’t want to wake her anymore than she’d wanted to crawl out of bed herself. There was something indefinable about the comfort that came from holding a child. It put the world in perspective. It brought everything down to a fundamental, basic need. Love.
Several days had passed since they’d gone tree hunting, and it seemed that Ben was hardly home anymore.
According to Nina, he was helping Cooper get to the appointments he had with some specialists. Hope didn’t understand the way Ben had handled Cooper at first, letting Cooper use him as a punching bag, but clearly he understood what his friend needed. Maybe it was a guy thing. Or a marine thing.
She missed him. She wasn’t about to admit it to anyone, but she did.
She put Ryan on the floor of the living room where she could keep an eye on him yet give him a bit of freedom, and hurried to wrap the presents she’d bought the day Brie had taken her shopping. She had locked them in her suitcase for safekeeping, but with the tree up, she couldn’t wait to set them under any longer. Nina and Eric had picked up Maddie and Chad, wanting to take them to get something special for their dad.
The door opened, making her jump. She quickly scanned the gifts to make sure Ben’s had been wrapped already. Yes. Okay.
“Hey, you,” he said. “Channeling elves, are we?”
He set his keys down on the console and kicked off his slushy boots.
“Hi. You left early,” Hope said, not liking how unintentionally suspicious she sounded.
He pressed his lips together, keeping his smile from spreading, reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, narrow, wrapped box.
“I did leave early,” he said, coming over and slipping it under the tree. Her name was written on it.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” she said, taping her last box and glancing over at Ryan, who was rolling sideways.
“I know.”
She bit her lip and looked at the box.
“You’re the kid who opens gifts and retapes them. Aren’t you?” Ben asked, sitting cross-legged near her. She wrinkled her nose.
“Kind of.”
He belted out a laugh.
“I thought so. Go ahead. But don’t tell the kids. They may follow in your footsteps.”
I’d need to be around them much longer than I will be for that to happen.
She grabbed the box and ripped open the wrapping, scrunching it into a ball and dropping it on the floor next to her. She opened the box.
“Oh, Ben.”
She lifted out a simple necklace. A silver teardrop pendant. Was it a message, a symbol of how sad he’d be when she returned to Kenya, or a symbol of possibility? The promise of rain—one drop that has the power to spring new life from nothingness. From death. She closed her eyes to hide the tears that threatened.
“Thank you. It’s perfect,” she said.
He took it from her and clasped it around her neck. The brush of his fingers at the back of her neck sent shocks of awareness through her. She could feel the warmth of his face near hers. She opened her eyes, and he pulled back slightly.
“Looks as though you know how to tempt a guy,” he said, nodding toward Ryan.
Ryan was crawling for the first time—straight for the crumpled ball of wrapping she’d tossed. And Ben was witnessing a first with his son.
“Come on, baby,” she said, slapping her jeans. Ben cheered like Ryan’s greatest fan. Then Hope trusted her instincts
. She turned to Ben and kissed him.
“Congratulations on a first,” she said.
Then she kissed him again.
*
BRIE HAD BEEN HEARTBROKEN, which was why Hope wanted to stop by and see her before she closed early today for Christmas Eve.
She pulled up to Bentley’s, locked the bike in place and took off the helmet. It was cold but not too bad. She went inside and sat down at the bar to wait for Brie to finish taking a payment.
“Hey, girl,” Brie said, moving around the counter to process the credit card. She sounded down. “A visit from you is the best thing that’s happened today.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Hope said.
“Look at this place. I’m closing in thirty minutes, and I’ve had a total of five customers the entire day. Uncle Ralph couldn’t even find anything wrong with my bookkeeping or where I’ve put advertising dollars. I’m telling you, it can’t just be all the bad publicity we got. All the new shopping centers popping up are killing me and every other ‘old’ business, too. It’s not fair. We were here first, you know? Give me a sec.”
She went back to finish up with the last customers. From the way she spoke to them all, full of energy, no one would have known how she was hurting. She came back and handed Wolf a reward, then started polishing glasses as she spoke.
“It’s just frustrating.”
“Are you sure it’s not just the holidays? People traveling out of town and such?” Hope asked as she leaned her arms on the roughened wood bar.
“Nah. I know it’s because people don’t see past the surface. Show most folks a shiny new ornament and its tarnished and dented twin and they’ll go for the shine like a moth to light. It doesn’t even occur to them that the tarnished one might be more valuable. It has a history and holds stories they can’t imagine. It has a heart.” She sighed. “See that wall?”
“Yes,” Hope said. She was also seeing that Brie wasn’t just talking about ornaments or Bentley’s. She hadn’t read every plaque, but she had noticed the wall that held signed photographs.
“We’ve had famous people, politicians and musicians come here over the years, but we’re not good enough for everyone else.” She whispered the last part so as not to offend the group walking out. “Bye! Thanks for coming!” She set a polished glass in place and picked up another, smile gone. “I had a college student do a great review a few weeks ago. No difference. You’d think all the adverts and effort would have negated anything that was said when Zoe died. You’d think that word of mouth would give us some chance against the newer chains.”
“Brie, hang in there. Seasons change. You know…in Kenya, there is always an annual drought. It’s tough, and many of the tribal farmers suffer and struggle to feed their families. But eventually the rainy season comes. Often with its own hardships, but it comes and life is renewed. We have a saying. ‘There is no rain season without mosquitoes.’”
Brie cocked her head and repeated the words.
“Oh, my gosh, I love that, Hope. I’m going to put it on a sign in the back as a reminder. I may use it on Uncle Ralph, too. Or have a T-shirt made.”
“Here,” Hope said, reaching into her tote and pulling out a small bag. “This is for you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“I wanted to. You’ve become a good friend, in spite of the fact that you’ve added a few inches to my hips, but that’s okay.”
Brie laughed. Hope pushed the gift toward her. “It’s not much, but it made me think of you.”
Brie opened the small green velvet box and pulled out an ornament hand painted with giraffes, elephants and gazelle.
“It’s Africa. It’s gorgeous.”
“I found it in a shop with international things. When we first met, you said that someday you wanted to go on a safari in Kenya. This will be your reminder that when you do, you have a friend there and she expects you to visit.”
“Of course I would.” Brie came around and gave Hope a big hug. “Thank you. I’m not risking this getting swiped. It’s getting hung on my tree at home.”
“Are you going to your uncle’s after closing?”
“I don’t know. They want me to, but I told them I might wait until tomorrow morning.” Brie took a deep breath and blinked. The tip of her nose turned pink, and she sniffed but held herself together. “It’s just that I had imagined spending Christmas with Coop. I don’t care if he goes blind. I wouldn’t care if he’d lost his limbs. I feel as if we’ve always known each other. As though we were meant to be. Why isn’t he feeling it, too?”
“I wish I could do something to help. If you want to come over, I’m sure the Harpers wouldn’t mind at all. We’ll be there for dinner.”
“No. No. I’ll be fine. You go and make your calls. I’m closing up and going home.”
“You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah,” Brie said with a sad smile.
Hope walked to the door and started to pull it open, but it moved too easily. She stepped back. Yes.
“Hope.” Cooper tipped his chin in greeting.
“Cooper.” Hope’s heart raced for her friend. Brie stood there trying her best to look stoic, but her fair skin gave her away. Wolf, who’d been lying down near the bar, sat at attention. Cooper limped a couple of steps closer to Brie. Hope gave a quick wave goodbye and wished them merry Christmas.
She walked outside and couldn’t help overhearing them before the heavy door eased to a close.
“Hey, you.”
“Brie—Brie, I’m scared.”
*
HOPE LIFTED BABY Ryan in the air and wiggled her nose against his belly for the sixth time. His giggles and hiccups made him sound like a hyena. She’d joined the kids at their grandparents’ after stopping to see Brie. Ben was supposed to meet them soon.
“An adorable, lovable baby hyena,” she said out loud, and tickled him again and blew raspberries against his belly. “Okay, no more or you’ll be hiccupping all night.”
She put Ryan in the safe confines of a play yard. It was as if he’d gone from zero to sixty since that first crawl.
Eric came and sat down with a cookie. Hope sat next to him and snatched it right out of his hand. And took a bite.
“I can’t believe you stole a cookie from a grandpa,” he said. He looked over at the dining table where Maddie and Chad were coloring. “Did you see that, you two? Do I have witnesses?”
Maddie looked amused, and Chad poked his cheeks in with his forefingers and made a fish mouth.
“You’re not exactly an old grandpa. How many of these have you eaten today?” Hope asked.
“A few,” Eric said in a gruff voice. “It’s not my fault she won’t stop making them.”
“Eric, get Nina out to do something. You’re doing better. Go for a short walk with her. Take her with you to swim at that indoor pool where you exercise your knee. And when spring comes, get her in the habit of cycling with you. She’s distracting herself with cooking and baking. It’s up to you to break the cycle. Besides, you’re going to give yourself diabetes if you don’t stop eating these—” Hope took another bite “—and if you put on extra weight, it’s not going to help your knees.”
Eric made a face. He knew she was right.
“What about you, Hope? Is that a good example you’re setting?”
“It’s my very last one. I have to get on track after this. I won’t need as much willpower when I’m gone.”
She noticed Maddie looking over and frowning.
“What’s diabetes?” Chad asked, swinging his legs under the table.
“Diabetes is when sugar makes a person very, very sick,” Hope explained. “Much worse than just a tummy ache. It can hurt your vision, your feet and everything in your body.” Was that too scary? Chad slowly put down the cookie he was munching on as he colored.
She lowered her voice so the kids couldn’t hear.
“Eric, I’m serious. Take care of yourself, for these kids and for your wife. And take
care of her, too.”
“You’re being harsh,” he said, his brow furrowing.
“Maybe, but I don’t see you going in that kitchen and dragging her off dancing or to the movies. She devoted herself to helping you after surgery. Which, by the way, I know enough to know you milked your surgery a little longer than necessary.”
He grimaced and gave her a sideways look.
“Don’t go telling her that.”
“Is surgery a cow?” Chad asked.
Maddie rolled her eyes at her brother.
“No, Chad. It’s just an expression,” Eric said.
“What expression are we talking about?” Nina asked, walking in from the kitchen and flopping onto the recliner next to their sofa. Hope tried to answer. She almost said something. But God help her, Chad beat her to it.
“I saw Daddy kissing Miss Hope.”
*
BEN HURRIED IN through the Harpers’ door. He needed to get the kids and Hope home. He’d taken Cooper to consult with a low-vision specialist to see if there was anything that would help him cope on a daily basis. The clinic had been eye-opening, so to speak. There were patients wearing headgear with special lenses, special computer screens that magnified words per the need of individual patients…even telephones with extralarge numbers on them for patients who couldn’t function with standard phones. If there was a way to help someone visually disabled function better, those docs were gonna find it.
Brie had shown up with Wolf while he was waiting. She’d insisted that her uncle was working the morning so she could stay and take Coop home. Ben had had a feeling Coop would rather have her stick around.
And that meant Ben could pick up the kids and get home to answer his emails. He’d gotten a reply that he was able to read on his phone, but he didn’t want to respond from it. He needed to sit down at his laptop and be focused on work, not driving around. He also didn’t want to drive them home after dark, it being Christmas Eve. He wanted a quiet night at home.
Ben found Nina in the kitchen, cleaning up.
“You’re back early,” she said.
