Holiday Hat Trick

by Catherine Gayle

  But this wasn’t my home anymore. This wasn’t my family anymore. No matter how much I wanted them, no matter how readily they might still accept me, if I couldn’t be with Mia, I didn’t really belong.

  Still, I didn’t have to force myself to smile; it came easily to my lips, and I allowed myself to get swept up in the holiday cheer and family love. It couldn’t hurt to soak up as much of it as possible while I could. There was no telling when I’d be able to get any more of it.

  MARLEY FELL ASLEEP in my arms. She’d played full-tilt with her older cousins—ranging in age from three up to eight—for a lot longer than I thought she’d last. When she had worn herself out, she’d found me in the living room with the other men, climbed up onto my lap, and leaned her head against my chest with her thumb stuck in her mouth. Within minutes, she was out, her little blond curls tickling my arm. Grandma Molly was with us, snoozing in one of the recliners and oblivious to everything.

  Once Marley was out and no longer grabbing for his tail, Inigo had joined her on my lap, curling up against both of us. He started purring right away. He’d snuggled next to her a lot when she was a newborn, too. I got the sense that he thought of her as a kitten, and that he needed to look after her. Even though she annoyed him, he followed her everywhere, always checking in on her and making sure she was doing what he thought she ought to be doing.

  We’d been talking about Davie’s mite hockey team. Davie was my eight-year-old nephew, Seth’s son. Well, technically he was Mia’s nephew, not mine. I still considered them all to be my family, though. But once my little girl had climbed onto my lap, I was a goner, all thought of anyone else fleeing from my mind. I couldn’t focus on anything the guys were saying. All I could do was stare in wonder at the little piece of magic I’d had a hand in creating, trying to cement the image in memory so I would never lose it. I’d had so few moments like this, and she was growing so fast.

  The scent of baking cookies wafted in from the kitchen, and I heard Mia’s laugh coming from the same direction, mixed with the laughter of the other women as they cooked a big meal and talked about whatever had struck them today. After Marley had come to me, the other kids had broken off into two groups, the toddlers playing with toy dump trucks and tractors in front of the lit-up Christmas tree, the older kids out in the back yard building snowmen and having a snowball fight. Every now and then, a shriek of joy would resonate all the way through the walls, taking me back to when Mia, her siblings, and I had been teens and done the same thing.

  Beyond a brief notice of those things going on around me, my attention remained solely on the little angel in my arms. I memorized the cadence of her breathing. I counted her long, dark eyelashes as they fanned over her cheeks. I reveled in the weight of her head making my arm go numb, in the heat she produced burning through me everywhere her tiny body touched mine.

  I lost track of how much time passed with me staring at Marley. It was only when Mia came in carrying a platter of cookies that I could turn my eyes to anything else. In fact, it was just like old times—no matter what was going on and who was around, when Mia was in the room, I couldn’t seem to look anywhere else. She’d always been the most beautiful girl I’d ever known, and she’d always had the ability to make me lose track of everything else around. I supposed there was little wonder that our daughter, who looked so much like her, was charming me in the same way. Mrs. Jennings and the other women followed Mia in, apparently finished in the kitchen at least for now. They oohed and aahed when they saw how Marley was sprawled across me, out cold with her cat curled up around her, her little thumb hanging out of her open mouth where it would be close by should she need it again.

  Mia set the tray down on the coffee table after letting her father and Brian each take one, and then she took a seat next to me just far enough away that we wouldn’t accidentally brush against each other. “She’s finally all tuckered out, I guess.”

  “She was out almost the second she climbed on my lap.”

  Mia brushed a stray curl out of Marley’s face, and our daughter let out a contented sigh in her sleep, one that matched my mood almost to a T.

  “We should really put her in a bed,” Mia said after a moment, her voice low so as not to wake our daughter even though I doubted a rock concert starting up in the next room would do the trick. “She’ll nap better with a pillow and blanket. Won’t get cranky later.”

  I was less concerned about the possibility of crankiness sometime down the road than I was about the idea of my moment with my daughter ending so soon. I wasn’t ready to let her go.

  Mrs. Jennings wiped her hands on a flour-covered apron, probably dirtying them more than they’d been to begin with. She nodded, as though having made a decision—a general in command of her troops. “There’s too much going on in the kids’ room right now for her to sleep well in there, but we can put her in your old room. I’ll just grab a few extra pillows to use as bumpers…” She was still talking as she disappeared down the hall even though no one would be around to hear her.

  Much as I hated to move, I knew Mia was right. I nodded, easing Marley’s weight from my lap to my arms so I could carry her there myself. Inigo took the hint and leaped down before I had to dislodge him. Mia stood and reached as though to take Marley from me, but I shook my head. “Let me.”

  Her moment of indecision was so brief I doubted anyone had noticed it but me. I couldn’t miss that flash of uncertainty in her eyes, but then she dropped her hands to her lap, and I got to my feet.

  By the time I got back to Mia’s room, Mrs. Jennings had already brought in about a half dozen pillows and a baby blanket, and she had created a decent nest on the bed. I laid my daughter in the middle of it, and Mrs. Jennings covered her with the blanket and patted her on the bottom.

  “She’ll be just fine in here. We can leave the door cracked so we’ll hear when she wakes up.” She had a hand on my arm and was leading me out, and all I could do was follow her even though I’d debated sitting on the edge of the bed just to watch my baby sleep. “You know,” she said conspiratorially once we were in the hall, “Mia was just telling us she would give anything to go out and build a snowman, to let loose and have a little fun. She doesn’t have much fun these days.” To further emphasize her point, she nodded out the window to the kids who were out doing exactly that.

  “It looks like she has plenty of helpers for her snowman-building if that’s what she wants.” I wasn’t going to be one of them, though. Two of my three goals for my Christmas break had already been accomplished, albeit in an unsatisfactory way. Now I was going to focus solely on that third goal. I wasn’t here to help Mia have fun; I was here to spend every damn moment I could with my daughter.

  Mrs. Jennings made a little humming sound in her throat—one I recognized to mean she disagreed with me and was going to do everything in her power to show me how wrong I was—and slowed her pace until we came to a halt still in the hallway. “Now you listen to me, Mitchell Quincey. You’re as good as my own son, whether you’re married to Mia or not. I know you’re hurting. It breaks my heart to see it, to see both of you in so much pain. It seems to me you’ve got a prime opportunity sitting right in front of you to ease some of that hurt, and I refuse to just sit by and let you walk away from it.”

  “I’m not the one walking away from anything. Mia is.”

  “I won’t deny it, but I’ve never known you to just give up on something you wanted.”

  “Give up?” I scoffed. “She knows I still love her. She knows I always will. She’s made it abundantly clear that it’s not enough, and I don’t know what else to do. If anyone’s given up, it’s her.” God knew if I had any other thoughts on how to salvage our relationship, I would have already tried them. I was fresh out of ideas, though. What else was there to do? “I don’t mean to be rude, Mrs. J., but I’m here so I can spend time with my little girl. That’s all. If Mia wants anything more from me, all she has to do is say the word.”

  She gave me one of her be
st mom looks—a mixture of understanding and disapproval all rolled up in one—and squeezed my arm. “That may be, but Marley’s going to be sleeping for a while. I don’t see any harm in you trying to talk to Mia while your daughter’s asleep. Whether you’re married or not, you two are going to have to deal with each other for many years to come. Might as well find a way to do it without both of you hurting, if you ask me.”

  With that, she took off for the living room and left me standing there, debating whether I should go back in and watch Marley sleep or attempt to do what she’d suggested.

  WHEN MOM CAME back to join the rest of us, she was alone. I patted the open seat next to me on the sofa, but she acted as though she hadn’t seen and went to join Seth on the loveseat. If and when Mitch returned, the only seat left available to him would be the one she’d ignored. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she’d done that on purpose, trying to force us into as much interaction as she could. More than anyone else in my family, Mom was bound and determined to get me and Mitch back together.

  You’re miserable without him, she’d told me so many times I could almost hear it in my sleep. It didn’t matter that her words were the truth; I didn’t want to hear it, let alone acknowledge it. You’ve figured out who you are again. You won’t lose yourself this time because you know who you are and what you want. You can make this work. All the things she continually said made sense, but I still had my doubts that I could make it work.

  If I got back together with Mitch—if I moved with him to his new city, with his new team—how long would it be before everything was back to what we had before? I didn’t think he would try to force me into being a carbon copy of what I’d been in the past, but I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to maintain an identity separate from him unless I was physically apart from him.

  Quite a few more minutes passed before Mitch returned—enough time that I started allowing myself to believe maybe he wouldn’t come out—but then he emerged from the hall, crossed the room, and sat next to me. A little closer than was necessary, actually. Definitely closer than I’d sat next to him a little while ago. I inched over to the arm, almost frantic to put a little more space between us, or else I might give in to the urge and snuggle up against his warmth.

  Dad had built a fire in the hearth, but a fire couldn’t do much to combat winter in Manitoba. I’d gotten spoiled a little being married to Mitch and spending our holidays in warm-weather places like Florida and Texas and California. This was the first time I’d been home for winter in years, the first time I hadn’t been in some strange city for Christmas with Mitch in a very long time. Even though we weren’t the kids now, I knew Mom and Dad’s Christmas routine wouldn’t have changed in all this time other than to accommodate for grandchildren instead of just children. We’d have a big dinner tonight, and then everyone would sit around the fire while Dad read The Night Before Christmas dressed in a Santa suit before the kids went to bed. They’d each get one present tonight but the rest would have to wait until morning, after Santa came to deliver the big stuff. I knew Mitch would remember, too. He’d been here for more than a few Christmases, even if it had been a while.

  “What’s the weather like in Portland right now?” I asked, trying to make light conversation.

  He spread out, filling up all the empty space I’d just created between us like he had done for as long as I could remember, and he winked at me. “Not as cold and snowy as this, that’s for sure. Fairly mild.”

  The look in his eye wasn’t anything close to mild. It heated me through, far more efficiently than the fire a few feet away.

  I looked away, trying to figure out what everyone else was talking about, but it didn’t do anything to cool the burn he’d ignited in my belly. Mitch didn’t make any effort to reengage me in conversation, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the sensation of having him next to me, the electric charge that seemed to pull us closer.

  We weren’t doing anything but sitting, listening, breathing, but my pulse had kicked up to a gallop and it was roaring in my ears. I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing. I glanced down at the space between us on the sofa. My gaze fell on his hand and settled there. I knew everything about that hand intimately—every angle and line, the strength of it, and all the things he could do with it. Some of that heat from my belly flared up and tickled my cheeks, and I forced myself to look away.

  Davie raced inside, the back door clattering loud enough in his wake that it woke Grandma Molly with a start. He darted into the living room, face red with cold but with a grin as wide as his face. “Aunt Mia! We need your help.” He grabbed my hand and started tugging. He was little but strong, and before I knew it he was hauling me toward the back door in a fit of laughter.

  “What kind of help?” I demanded.

  He put his hands on his hips like Mom had always done when answering something she thought we should already know and rolled his eyes. “With Lila’s camcorder. Come on.”

  I didn’t have the first clue what they thought they needed to record while they were out there in the mounds of snow, but knowing my nieces and nephews it could only mean trouble. Every summer, when Mitch and I would come back home from wherever he’d played that season, these little monsters had counted on the two of us to join in their play. We were the youngest of their aunts and uncles, we hadn’t had kids of our own, and we were cool because Mitch was a pro hockey player. It wasn’t surprising at all for Davie to try to draw me into the fray even though now I had Marley to look after.

  I definitely didn’t mind being the cool aunt. It had helped me to have a great relationship with these kids, and I was a different sort of adult figure for them than their parents could be. If I went out there with them, I could keep an eye on them and maybe prevent them from getting into too much trouble.

  “Don’t move a muscle,” I told him. “Let me get my coat.” Not to mention my hat, scarf, and gloves. It was bone-chillingly cold out there, and judging from the fresh dusting of snow covering my nephew’s hat and shoulders, more of the white stuff was falling even now.

  When I turned around to grab my outer layers, it was to find Mitch coming toward me carrying all of it in his arms, as well as his own.

  He shrugged. “Thought I’d join you. You never know—Davie might need my help, too.”

  For that matter, I might be the one to need his help. It all depended on what those little munchkins had planned.

  “Good idea,” Davie said, nodding so hard he looked like a bobble head going haywire. “You’re really tall, Uncle Q. Rory might need you. He stretched really far but he can’t reach. Hurry up!” My nephew had taken to calling him Uncle Q when he’d learned “Q” was what most of the guys in the NHL called Mitch. He thought it made him cool like them.

  Then Davie darted out the door, leaving us standing there. Can’t reach? What couldn’t Rory reach? The tree house? My mind raced with all sorts of possibilities, none of them good. I pictured that little boy dangling from a high branch. My eyes went wide when I looked up at Mitch. I couldn’t help it, imagining all the horrifyingly dangerous things they might have come up with to do. Technically there were a lot of things out in the backyard that Rory couldn’t reach. He was only five, going on six, but we were all a lot safer for the fact that he couldn’t reach those things.

  Mitch handed my winter things over to me. “Hurry and get this on. God knows what they’re up to.”

  I was still trying to button up my coat by the time he’d finished dressing, so he put my toque on my head and tugged it down over my ears before trying to awkwardly wrap my scarf around my neck. His big hands weren’t designed for up-close work of that nature, and we ended up bumping into each other more so than getting me properly outfitted.

  “You’re going to give me a black eye if you keep that up.”

  “Sorry,” he said, laughing as he finally gave up his efforts.

  I shook my head. “Go on. I’m right behind you, but one of us needs to get out there as soon as possible.”


  “On my way.” He opened the door, took one look outside, and then turned back to me. “Hurry. I’m positive I’ll need reinforcements.”

  The door closed. I had straightened out the mess that was my scarf and was just starting to pull on my gloves when Mitch let out an indistinguishable shout, followed by a blood-curdling scream from Lila.

  I’d taken too long. They needed help. I flung open the door with one glove still held in my hand. That was when a snowball pelted me square in the face.

  MIA NEVER SAW it coming.

  Lila’s scream had worked exactly as we’d planned when I’d gone out to plot with the kids before rejoining the adults in the living room. Mia would do anything to protect her nieces and nephews from harm, and if she thought one of them was in danger, she’d drop everything in a rush to come to their rescue.

  I hadn’t wanted to listen to Mrs. Jennings’s advice at first, but then I’d allowed myself to think about it for a few minutes. She was rarely wrong, particularly when it came to her youngest daughter. The thing I’d always loved the most about Mia was her ability to let loose and enjoy herself, and it was clear from the hollow look in her eyes that she just wasn’t doing much of that anymore. I might not change her mind in terms of our relationship just by drawing her into a bit of fun, but at least I could help her find her smile again.

  When the first snowball hit her, Mia froze in place, too stunned to react.

  “Aunt Mia, come on,” Davie called out to her from behind one of the bunkers the kids had built in preparation, even before I’d asked for their help. He lobbed a wet ball toward us. “I need your help. They’re going to cream us.”

  I was with Rory and Lila behind the other mound. It was my toss that had hit Mia. I’d had it in hand and ready to go before Lila had let out her scream. Now the game was truly underway, though. Rory was already flinging balls wildly in his cousin’s direction, and Lila was busy packing more snowballs together so we wouldn’t run out of ammo. On the opposite side of the clearing, Davie was quickly going through the stack of snowballs he had lying in wait.