Starry Night: A Christmas Novel

by Debbie Macomber

  Chapter Twelve

  “When is Paul leaving?” Sophie asked on Saturday afternoon. Finn was in her kitchen, fixing sandwiches for their lunch. Carrie had been bringing down dishes when her friend had called.

  “His flight is scheduled for Monday. I mentioned our Christmas party, and I hope he’ll be able to change his plans so he’ll be staying for that.” He’d used her laptop to see about alternate flights and to check his emails, but it didn’t look promising that he’d be able to delay his return to Alaska.

  “Do you think he might?”

  “I don’t know.” The thought of him leaving filled her with dismay, but at the same time she appreciated that city life was completely foreign to him.

  And she would need to return to work Monday morning and he’d be restless in the city, although there would be plenty for him to see and do.

  “How come you left so early last night?” Sophie pressed.

  “Too noisy,” she explained, as she strolled into the kitchen. “It was difficult to hold a decent conversation, and Paul and I had been out and about all day.”

  “I have an idea,” Sophie returned cheerfully, as if she was the most brilliant woman in the universe. “I’ll have the two of you over for dinner this evening. I’ll ask Bruce, and we’ll have a small dinner party with just the four of us—nothing fancy.”

  “Good idea, but I’ve already got a roast in the Crock-Pot.” A good portion of the leftover turkey had gone into the freezer, and she’d made up plates with turkey, stuffing, and the other side dishes to distribute to her neighbors who were widowers.

  “Great,” Sophie returned enthusiastically. “Then we’ll come to your place. Does six work?”

  Carrie glanced at Finn, knowing he could hear the conversation, and he shrugged as if to say it was her decision. “Sure. We’ll see you then.” Carrie would have preferred to spend the night with just her and Finn, but she had more or less been manipulated into agreeing. Setting her phone aside, she wrapped her arms around Finn’s waist. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “I can call Sophie back and tell her we’ve changed our minds.”

  “It’ll be fine. I liked your friends.” He downplayed her concern, kissed her cheek, and brought their turkey-salad sandwiches to the table.

  Sophie and Bruce arrived at six, bringing flowers and chocolate-dipped strawberries for dessert. Her friends wore matching Santa hats. The flowers became the centerpiece, and the meal was served. Conversation flowed smoothly throughout dinner. For obvious reasons, the answers to questions directed at Finn were vague. Sophie was the one who asked one question after another, almost as if she were conducting an interview. At one point, Carrie opened her mouth to stop her, an uneasy feeling filling her chest, but Finn pressed his hand over hers, reassuring her that all was fine.

  Following the meal, Bruce and Finn went into the living room to watch a college football game while Sophie and Carrie cleared the table.

  The instant they were out of earshot, Sophie hissed, “Who do you think you’re kidding? That’s Finn Dalton.”

  Just as she’d suspected when Sophie started hitting Finn with a barrage of questions, her friend had seen through their little masquerade.

  Carrie started to explain when Sophie quickly cut her off. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

  “All right, all right, yes, it’s Finn. Paul is his middle name.”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “Who did you think you were fooling, Carrie?”

  “Do you remember,” Carrie said, grabbing hold of her friend’s forearm, “you said that Finn Dalton could be walking down the streets of Chicago and no one would even know it was him? Well, guess what, he is, and you’re right, no one knows.”

  “Carrie, I’m worried about you. Surely you realize this relationship isn’t going to work. Long-distance relationships rarely do. The two of you are night and day, oil and water.”

  “Well, to this point we seem to be coming along rather nicely,” Carrie countered, unwilling to let her friend rain on her parade. Not for anything would Carrie give up on her and Finn.

  “For the love of heaven, why haven’t you written the article?” Sophie demanded. “We both know what that would mean to you and your career. You could have your choice of jobs with any newspaper. You’re always talking about moving back to Seattle one day. This is your golden opportunity.”

  “The article is off the table.” Carrie rinsed the dirty dishes and set them inside the dishwasher, not wanting to have this conversation. “I’d rather not discuss this, Sophie.”

  “Why can’t you write it?” Sophie wasn’t willing to let this go.

  Carrie straightened and faced her friend head-on. “Finn asked me not to.”

  “What?” Sophie all but exploded.

  Carrie hurriedly glanced around the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room to be sure Finn hadn’t heard any part of this conversation. Both men appeared caught up in the football game. Sighing with relief, Carrie turned back to her friend.

  “Keep your voice down, would you?”

  “Sorry, but you need to think this through; give me one good reason why you aren’t writing that article. Just one.” She held up her finger and threatened to wag it with every word.

  The answer should be obvious. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m in love with Finn.”

  “You barely know the guy,” Sophie challenged.

  “I know him well enough.”

  “Listen, Carrie, I realize you think you’re in love, but you aren’t. This is a classic case of wild infatuation. Opposites attract, right?” She didn’t wait for a response. “You’ve gone bonkers for him, and it’s understandable. He’s not bad looking, and he seems to be a nice guy, but tell me, do you honestly see yourself picking berries out in the wilderness in order to survive?”

  Sophie was right about one thing; Carrie couldn’t see herself living her life in Finn’s cabin, raising a family in such a limited environment. Still, she wasn’t willing to give up Finn.

  “What about your career?” Sophie challenged next.

  “I can write anywhere.”

  “You can,” Sophie reluctantly agreed. “You’re smart and talented. But you can’t seriously be considering giving up this golden opportunity.”

  Carrie lowered her voice to a whisper. “I won’t betray Finn. I’m not that kind of person.”

  “I can’t bear to see you make this sacrifice,” Sophie insisted. “You’d be a fool not to take advantage of what you know about him.”

  Carrie refused to listen to this any longer. “Stop, Sophie. I said I’m not doing it, and I mean it. End of story.”

  Sophie gave a disgusted shake of her head. “Don’t you see what he’s doing?”

  “What are you talking about? He trusts me, and I trust him.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he might be using you?”

  “Using me? For what?” The idea was so preposterous that Carrie nearly laughed out loud.

  “To keep track of what you’re doing so you won’t write the article,” Sophie explained.

  Carrie shook her head, finding this conversation almost comical. “Finn isn’t like that.”

  “Are you sure?” Sophie challenged. “Take my advice and admit that this relationship isn’t going anywhere. If you hang on, you’ll only be setting yourself up for heartache. I’m your friend, and I have your best interests at heart.”

  Carrie actually felt sorry for her. “You are getting to be such a cynic, Sophie. How can you say these things?”

  “How can you be sure he isn’t with you so that you won’t write the article?” Sophie asked. “Against all odds, you found him. You know too much.”

  “Stop,” Carrie insisted. “I don’t want to hear it.” She was finished with this conversation. She tossed the dish towel down on the counter, jerked the Christmas apron loose from her waist, and stuffed it in a drawer. “I’m done listening to you,” she said.

  Abruptly, she turned away from her friend,
and to her shock she found Finn standing in the doorway.

  Sophie cast her an apologetic glance, murmured, “Oops,” and then scooted past Finn. “Hey, Bruce, time for us to leave.”

  “But the game …”

  “You can watch it from my place.”

  Carrie waited until she heard the front door click closed. “How much of that did you hear?” she asked.

  Finn had his arms crossed over his muscular chest. His frown compressed his forehead. “I heard enough.”

  “Don’t be offended by Sophie. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. She certainly doesn’t know my heart.”

  “Don’t be so sure.”

  “Finn …”

  “You mean to say you never guessed what caused my change in attitude while we were in the cabin?”

  “I …” She frowned. “No …”

  “When you first arrived I was determined not to give you a single bit of information, and then you riled me to the point where I said far more than I ever intended. Very clever of you, by the way.”

  “I didn’t mean … That wasn’t my intention.” He couldn’t honestly believe that the argument about his mother had been prompted by anything other than exactly what it was. She hadn’t been looking for a way to unearth his motivations so she could share them with the rest of the world. He couldn’t actually believe that, could he?

  “Despite my best efforts to keep you in the dark, it was clear you had enough on me to write ten articles if that was what you wanted,” he continued.

  Unwilling to trust his words, Carrie shook her head. “I don’t believe you any more than I do Sophie. Are you telling me this has all been a game … you don’t have any feelings for me?” She shook her head.

  “Okay, sure. You’re attractive and fun, and for a while I actually thought there might be something between us, but these last few days have shown me nothing permanent will ever come of this relationship.” He looked almost apologetic. “I was perfectly content until you came into my life; I will be again, and so will you. We had a good run, but it’s time we were realistic enough to accept that this relationship isn’t good for either of us. It was always about the article.”

  He couldn’t possibly mean what he was telling her. “Finn, please. You’re overreacting. Sophie’s like that. She makes assumptions she shouldn’t. I would never betray your trust. Never.”

  He stared at her long and hard. “You’re dying to write the article, aren’t you? You as much as admitted it. An article on me would make your career.”

  “I don’t care about that stupid article; what matters to me is you.”

  “Then you’re lying.” He wiped his hand across his face.

  “I am not lying.”

  He exhaled slowly. “Carrie, I saw it on your laptop.”

  “What?” She slowly shook her head. “But that was before—” Abruptly, she stopped and sucked in her breath. She’d never deleted the rough draft of the article she’d written while in Alaska. It remained on her computer, nearly forgotten. Finn had used her laptop to check availability with the airlines and his emails. He must have seen it then. “Okay, yes, there’s an article there, but did you look at the date? I wrote that while I was at the cabin before … before you asked me not to publish it.”

  Finn shook his head. “We’re in over our heads. This isn’t going to work. Sophie’s comments should be a wake-up call to us both. She knows it, your mother knows it, and for that matter my mother, too. It’s time for us to be honest, Carrie. This relationship is doomed. It always has been.”

  “Stop saying that. I’m not willing to give up on us. I love you, Finn.” She threw her heart out to him and waited breathlessly for him to respond.

  For the longest time all he did was stare at her. His shoulders sagged, and he released his breath in a long, slow exhale. “I’m sorry, Carrie. I don’t love you.”

  “Now who’s lying?” she asked, hiccupping on a half-sob. It felt as if the floor had started to pitch beneath her feet as though she were on board a ship, tossed about in a vicious storm at sea.

  “Believe what you want.”

  His words hit her with a nearly physical impact. It felt as though he’d reached out and shoved her backward. Despite herself, she stumbled back several steps.

  Although she recognized that it would do little good to argue with him, she made the effort. “What about the toaster?” she whispered, hardly able to speak because of the tightness in her throat. She might be able to believe him if she didn’t know about the significance of the toaster. It meant far more to him than an antique. It’d been his way of telling her she was important to him. As important to him as his mother had been to his father.

  “Ah, yes, the toaster. That was a rather brilliant move on my part. I didn’t know yet if you’d take my request seriously. I needed to do something that would have an effect on you, and I figured you’d ask my mother about it.”

  Her knees suddenly felt like they were about to collapse on her. She needed to sit down, and quickly.

  Finn started for the door, briefly hesitated, and turned the knob.

  “Take the Christmas present with you,” she called after him, anger coming to rescue her pride in those final seconds.

  “Keep it,” he said on his way out the door, as if it meant nothing.

  As if she meant nothing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carrie didn’t even bother to go to bed that night or the next, sleeping in fits and starts, a few minutes at a time. She sat up on her sofa with a quilt her mother had lovingly crafted for her while she was in college. With its thick warmth wrapped around her shoulders, she tried to digest what had happened between her and Finn, and what would happen next—if anything. Try as she might, she couldn’t make herself believe that the things he said had even the smallest semblance of truth.

  At seven Monday morning she tossed aside the quilt, and although she was bone tired, she readied for work. Staring at her reflection, Carrie did her best to disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes, but with little success.

  Sophie, who usually rushed into the office five minutes late, was already at her cubicle when Carrie arrived at her normal time. Her friend had left several messages, but Carrie hadn’t answered her phone or responded to text messages.

  Sophie didn’t wait for Carrie to remove her hat and coat before she pounced on her, seeking information.

  “What happened Saturday night after Bruce and I left?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you answer any of my phone messages or texts?”

  Carrie stared back blankly.

  Sophie lowered her voice. “I feel terrible that Finn heard the things I said.”

  Fearing that if she said one word she would give in to the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her, Carrie simply shook her head.

  “You have to tell me,” Sophie pleaded. “Me and my big mouth. I’ll never forgive myself. How could I be so stupid?”

  Carrie swallowed against the tightening knot in her throat and gave an offhand shrug. “Apparently, you were right.”

  “Right?” Sophie’s jaw dropped several inches. “Right about what?”

  Bending over to turn on her computer, Carrie did her best to sound nonchalant and disengaged. “You might as well say ‘I told you so.’ Finn and I are over.”

  Sophie’s look of disbelief slowly evolved into a frown. “You’re kidding, right?”

  How Carrie wished she was. In answer, she shook her head. “Finn wanted to end it; he basically said the same thing you did, that we could never make it work, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Finn said that and you believed him? Listen, Carrie, I was wrong. Before I left I saw the way he looked at you. If a man ever looked at me like that, I’d be willing to give up chocolate and bear his children.”

  With all her heart, Carrie wanted to believe that was true, but she wasn’t sure it even mattered. Finn was gone. Nevertheless, she was hanging on to that slender thread called hope, only in her case it was ragged hope.
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  Sophie pulled out a chair and sat down. “Anyone with two functioning brain cells could see he’s nuts over you.”

  “I’d like to believe you, I really would, but he left shortly after you did, and I haven’t heard from him since. Frankly I doubt that I will.”

  Sophie stiffened. “Fine, then write that article. He can’t treat you like that.”

  Why was it everything went back to that stupid article?

  “You’re going to do it, aren’t you? You’d be a fool not to.”

  Carrie didn’t need to think about it. Undoubtedly, it was what Finn expected of her. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Instead, she reached for her mouse and clicked on an email.

  “You’ve got to write it,” Sophie insisted.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Are you off your rocker?” Sophie stood and did a complete three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn. “Someone call a medic; Carrie’s losing her mind.”

  Carrie stopped her friend from making fools of them both. “Don’t you understand that’s exactly what Finn expects me to do?”

  “Then give him what he wants,” Sophie suggested. “That way you can both have what you want. Don’t be an idiot, Carrie. This opportunity is one that comes along once or maybe twice in a career. This is your chance to prove yourself to Nash.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Finn loves me.” It was the only scenario that made sense to Carrie. He had vehemently denied it, but Carrie refused to accept that. For two nights she’d mulled over his words, and ultimately she chose not to believe them. She couldn’t feel the things she did if it’d all been a lie.

  “Where is Finn now?” Sophie asked. “Let me talk some sense into him.”

  “Sophie—” Carrie really didn’t feel like discussing this now.

  “Is he still in Chicago?” Sophie asked, cutting her off.

  Carrie shook her head. “He’s gone.”

  “Back to Alaska?”