by Cindy Kirk
“She was too young to die.” The bleakness of the words threatened to overtake him.
“You won’t get any disagreement from me on that score.” A sadness stole over Ginny’s features. “When you’ve lived as long as I have, you’ll see many friends and family leave this earth far too early.”
“If I’d stayed home, instead of leaving on that trip, I could have taken Charlotte to the doctor. Steph could have stayed home with Hannah.”
“Then it may have been you who died, instead of my girl.”
“How can you not hate me for that? For not being there for Steph when she needed me.”
Though they’d had many conversations, in the aftermath of Steph’s death and in the years that followed, his whereabouts that night had never been discussed.
“The meeting in Chicago was a good opportunity,” he began. “That was the truth. But I could have gotten out of it. I thought I needed a break from my home life, and I took it. Steph paid the price. If she’d been at home—”
“Graham,” Ginny interrupted. “There’s an old saying. If the good Lord wants you, he’ll find you hiding under the bed.”
“I don’t want anything to do with a God who’d take a woman as young and vibrant as Steph, someone with two little girls who needed her.” Graham’s voice had begun to crack, and he bore down hard. “I needed her. The girls needed her.”
“Life isn’t fair. What happened to my Stephanie wasn’t fair.” Ginny’s eyes filled with sympathy. “You need to let the guilt you feel go. For your sake and for your daughters’ sake as well.”
“I know.” Graham raked a hand through his hair. “It’s just this thing with Faith has me all discombobulated.”
“The attraction, you mean.” Ginny’s blue eyes, which had been cloudy only a second before, twinkled. “I think you should pursue it.”
Graham choked on his cocoa. He set the cup down, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Really? Even though I’ll be heading back to the city at the end of the month?”
“None of us knows what the future holds. The way I look at it, as long as you’re both going into this…well, whatever you want to call it, with your eyes wide open, why not enjoy each other and your time together?”
Pushing back her chair, Ginny rose. “I need to get back and prepare dinner. I can’t believe how much my grandsons eat. No wonder Shawn and Morgan are always short of cash.” Ginny laughed. “If I had to feed those boys every day, my wallet would be empty, too.”
After making sure the girls were still sleeping, Graham walked Ginny to the front door and helped her on with her coat.
Then, impulsively, he pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you,” he whispered against her hair. “You’re the best.”
She returned the hug, then stepped back. “Anytime you want to talk, know I’m here for you. I love you, Graham.”
He watched her walk out the door and stood staring into the falling snow until she disappeared from view. Then he went back upstairs, determined to work until his daughters woke up.
* * *
Faith’s head was still spinning when she arrived home at seven, in desperate need of food and a few minutes of quiet. The second she stepped inside the house, she realized if food and quiet were what she craved, she should have stopped at Rosie’s Diner and sat in a corner booth far from the hubbub.
She’d forgotten that tonight was a gift-wrapping marathon. Several people in the community who had stellar wrapping skills had volunteered to help and instruct others on wrapping gifts. Some were there to wrap gifts for the troops and for those in the community who were homebound or lived in nursing homes.
The night was always a raucous event, with wine—sparkling punch for those who didn’t drink—lots of ribbon and paper and laughter. At the end of the evening, they played games in which participants could win plates of cookies and fudge to take home.
Normally, Faith loved being involved. In the past couple of years, she’d had to be involved because Mary simply hadn’t felt up to it. Instead, her grandmother had sat in her favorite rocking chair and watched the activities while Faith took charge.
Guilt flooded Faith. She should have been home thirty minutes ago to help get everything organized so she could be at the door when guests began arriving for the seven o’clock start time.
To her surprise, it appeared everything was running smoothly, with her grandmother directing activities at the different stations.
Faith blinked as if seeing a ghost. This was the grandmother she remembered. Take-charge Mary, a master at organization, a dynamo who had only one speed—fast. Seeing her now, it would be easy to believe the last three years had been a bad dream.
She was still staring, watching Mel show a woman Faith recognized from church how to tie an intricate bow when Mary noticed her and crossed the room.
“You’ve got everything under control,” Faith blurted.
Mary’s eyes twinkled, actually twinkled. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve run a few of these wrapping parties in my day.”
“What can I do to help?”
Her grandmother studied her. “I wager you haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
Faith waved a dismissive hand. “I had a big lunch. I’m fine.”
“Go in and make yourself a sandwich.” Mary patted her shoulder. “Put your feet up. Everything is under control here.”
“Are you sure?”
Mary gestured with one hand toward the buzzing parlor. “Doesn’t it look under control?”
“It does.”
“Relax. Have a cup of tea. Or maybe a glass of wine.” Mary smiled. “I’m enjoying myself immensely, Faith. Overseeing this is giving me pleasure.”
A kind way of saying, Let me have this moment. Faith was happy to oblige.
“If you need an extra pair of hands for anything, you know where to find me.”
“I won’t, but thank you.” Mary brushed a kiss, whisper soft, against Faith’s cheek. “You look tired and a bit stressed. Take some time to unwind.”
Faith waved to her friends, who were too busy to do anything but smile back, then stepped into the quiet of the large kitchen.
She made herself a sandwich with roast beef and two slices of homemade oat bread. Instead of tea—or wine—she opted for a cold glass of milk. Then she did as her grandmother had instructed and put her feet up.
The last bite of the delicious sandwich had barely disappeared when Graham ambled into the kitchen. He stopped short at the sight of her.
“Faith.” A smile lit up his face. “I didn’t know you were home.”
She dropped her feet from the chair and straightened, pleasure rippling through her at the sight of him. Wearing jeans and a ski sweater, he was dressed even more casually than when she’d seen him earlier.
If he’d shaved today, it didn’t show, and a dusting of dark scruff covered his cheeks. His hair, instead of falling into perfect place, looked as if he’d just ran his hands through it.
The urge to stand and run her fingers through it and brush her knuckles against that scruff teased and tempted. She settled for a smile. “Care to join me?”
In answer, he dropped down into the chair opposite her. “You’re just now eating?”
He gestured to the plate with only a few crumbs remaining.
“I got caught up working and lost track of time.” Her lips tipped in a rueful smile. “I even forgot tonight was gift-wrapping.”
“Your grandmother reminds me of a general marshaling the troops.”
“I noticed that.” She shook her head. “It’s like a miracle. I don’t know how or why the turnaround, but I’m thrilled.”
She realized suddenly that her pleasure over seeing her grandmother so vibrant had shoved aside thoughts of Krista’s business proposition. Not to mention her growing feelings for Graham.
Now, those thoughts flooded back.
“—the girls.”
Faith blinked. “Where are the girls?”
“Did you tune me out, Ms.
Pierson?”
His teasing tone had heat burning her cheeks.
“It was a just a business thing that—” She waved a dismissive hand. “Where are the twins?”
“Where do you think?” He gave a little laugh, gestured with his head in the direction of the other room. “They took a nap this afternoon. Now they’re firing on all cylinders. At the moment, they’re on ribbon and wrapping paper duty. Anyone who needs a certain color of ribbon or a specific roll of paper asks them, and they get it. They are taking their jobs quite seriously.”
“I’m glad they’re having fun.” Faith paused. “On the way home, I thought about seeing if they’d be interested in building a snowman in the backyard. While the front is more for the community, I usually try to build one for myself every year.”
Faith flushed. Only after the words had left her lips did she realize how they sounded. A thirty-year-old woman who built a snowman for herself every year?
“I think they’d love it. I know I would.” Graham shot her a conspiratorial smile. “When I was a little boy, I always wanted to build a snowman. But my father, when we were in the house in Connecticut, considered them eyesores. Until they helped with the massive one in your front yard, the girls had never had the experience. That’s on me.”
He took a lot on himself, Faith realized. Typical, she thought, of a high-achieving personality. She recognized it because her family was made up of type A, high achievers.
“Which reminds me, I still need to get a tree. I promised them we’d get and decorate one this year, and I’ve yet to follow through on that.”
Faith thought of Krista’s offer and decided, after the snowman, they could discuss getting a tree.
Chapter Eleven
Graham didn’t know if it was the nap or the excitement that made building the snowman in the backyard so much fun.
“Lift me so I can give him his eyes,” Charlotte said, then paused to add, “Please.”
“I’ve got the carrot for the nose.” Hannah held it out in case he’d missed Faith handing it to her only seconds before.
“Your dad and I will do the mouth,” Faith added, taking it upon herself to lift Hannah so she could stick in the nose right after Charlotte finished with the eyes.
Faith gave a handful of pebbles to Graham, and they carefully formed the mouth.
“Now, let’s step back and say hello to our snowman.”
Hands on hips, Faith surveyed the snowman, who stood nearly as tall as Graham.
Graham had sacrificed the scarf he’d been wearing to drape it around the snowman. He had to admit the bright blue cashmere gave the snowman a jaunty air.
Charlotte clapped her hands.
“Be-u-ti-ful,” Hannah declared.
“You know, there’s a tradition after you finish building a snowman,” Faith said.
Graham cocked his head, unsure where she was going with this. He’d never heard of any tradition. Then again, he was hardly the expert when it came to such activities.
“Snowball fight.” With those words, Faith scooped up a handful of the white stuff, and a second later, a snowball hit Graham in the chest.
The twins dissolved in giggles, while he lightly packed snow in each hand and tossed it at them.
The fight was on, and it lasted until they were all cold, wet and red-faced with laughter.
Tromping into the back-porch area, or what Mary referred to as the mudroom, they peeled off boots and socks and gloves, hung coats on wall pegs and doffed hats crusted with snow.
“It’s been fun—” Faith began, but Graham cut her off by taking her hand.
“Do you need to help with the wrapping?”
She shook her hand, her ice-cold fingers curving around his. “It’s wrapping up.” She grinned at her pun. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Why don’t you come upstairs? The girls will take showers and head to bed. I’ll make you something hot to drink, and we can catch up on each other’s day.”
Graham’s tone was light, but his eyes lingered on her lips. When he realized what was happening, he pulled his gaze to her eyes and saw the twinkle.
“Sounds like a good idea. Give me a few minutes. I’m going to make sure Mary doesn’t need me, then change into something more comfortable.”
He grinned at her words, and she returned the smile before he shifted his focus to his daughters. “Is there anything you want to tell Faith?”
The twins exchanged puzzled glances.
“Thank you for letting us use your snow,” Hannah said promptly.
“Thank you for not hitting me in the face with a snowball,” Charlotte said with an almost-prim smile.
Faith chuckled. “Thank you for making this evening so much fun.”
As Graham ushered the girls up the stairs and listened to their excited chatter while they relived every moment of the snowman-building and the snowball fight, he realized Faith had summed up the evening perfectly.
Fun. It had been a fun evening.
How long had it been since he and his daughters had done something so enjoyable together? Oh, he’d taken them to FAO Schwarz shopping or walked the High Line a couple of times, but romping in a backyard in a boatload of snow…no, this evening definitely topped them all.
As they reached the second floor, Graham decided it was time to carry through on another promise. “You know what we’re going to do tomorrow?”
“Another snowball fight?” Charlotte asked hopefully.
“Even better,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’re going to get a Christmas tree and decorate it.”
When they hugged him, letting out little squeals, his heart swelled with emotion. He wasn’t sure where he’d find this tree or where they’d get decorations, but he’d make it happen.
For their sakes. And, he realized, for his own.
* * *
A small part of Faith wished Mary had needed her help. But by the time she changed out of her wet clothes and into flannel pants and a soft tee, everyone had gone.
Faith thought there might be cleanup left, but the parlor had been set to rights and was ready for tomorrow’s activity, Christmas bingo. It was Mary’s favorite event of the season, with Santa—Kenny—acting as the bingo caller.
When she told Mary she was going upstairs to have a cup of something hot with Graham, her grandmother had only patted her arm and told her to have a good evening. Mary made it clear she was heading to bed and didn’t want to be disturbed.
Faith had the vague feeling she’d been given free rein to do whatever she wanted. Like bringing a boy home to a house where no parents were in residence.
What a silly thought, she told herself as she knocked lightly on Graham’s door at the top of the steps.
“Come in,” he called out.
When Faith turned the knob, she found the door unlocked.
“We’re back here.”
She followed the sound to the back bedroom, which was where the twins slept. The girls were still awake. For now, anyway.
Huddled close in a double bed in nightgowns covered in sheep, they smiled as she stepped into the room.
“Daddy is reading us stories,” Charlotte announced, as if that wasn’t clear by the fact that Graham held an open book in his hands while he sat on the edge of the bed.
“We’re on the second book. I picked the first,” Hannah said. “Charlotte picked the second. We thought maybe we’d let Daddy pick the third.”
“Faith should pick the third.” Charlotte gave a decisive nod. “Daddy picked the third last night.”
Hannah cocked her head, considered, then nodded. “Yes. You pick the third.”
When Graham patted the spot on the bed beside him, Faith saw no other option but to sit there. There wasn’t room for a chair in this smaller bedroom, so her choices were limited to standing or sitting on the bed.
“I don’t know what kind of books you like,” Faith said.
“They brought only their favorites,” Graham informed her. “You can’t go wrong pick
ing any of them.”
He’d shaved and showered since the snowball fight, his hair still damp at the ends and curling just a little. He smelled wonderful, and if it wouldn’t have looked ridiculous, she might have opted for self-preservation and headed for the far end of the bed.
“Okay.” She spoke easily, her tone giving no indication of her galloping heartbeat. “Once you’re done with this book, I’ll pick the third.”
The girls only smiled as if they hadn’t a single doubt that’s what would happen.
The book he was reading was about two hedgehogs.
Faith had to smile as Graham read the character voices. He mixed them up with Hattie having a high, almost-falsetto quality, while Horace sounded like a cross between Louis Armstrong and James Earl Jones.
The twins paid rapt attention and smiled at the end when Horace and Hattie realized that everyone was wonderful in their own way.
The girls’ eyelids had begun to droop, but if she’d thought she could pass on reading the third, she was mistaken. Their gazes shifted to her as soon as Graham closed the book, telling her that wasn’t happening.
“What books do I have to choose from?” Faith asked, glancing around the room.
Graham pointed to a tall stack of books atop the small dresser. “Any of those. The smaller bunch are ones we’ve read since coming to Holly Pointe.”
Faith glanced through the stack, then saw one that appeared to have the same characters as the one Graham had just read. She was intrigued by Horace and Hattie. Besides, she loved books in a series, and she bet the twins did, too.
“What about this one?” She held it up, showing the twins the cover.
“Yay.” Charlotte glanced at her sister. “I knew she’d pick a good one.”
If Graham was to be believed, these all fell into the category of “good ones.”
She ran into trouble almost immediately as she tried to mimic Graham’s skill at voices. Charlotte’s lips twitched first at Faith’s attempt to reach the depths of Horace’s voice.
