Coming Home for Christmas

by RaeAnne Thayne

  It smelled like his soap, cedar and pine with a citrus undertone. She wanted to stand in the doorway and inhale, but by then he had moved to the children’s rooms.

  Seeing Bridger’s and Cassie’s personal spaces was both delightful and heartbreaking. She loved the little glimpses into their personalities. Bridger had a cowboy hat hanging on one bedpost and a baseball glove on the other. Cassie’s room was decorated in lavender and brown but she had her own baseball glove on the bookshelf and posters of the latest pop heartthrob on the wall.

  Elizabeth had tried to stay in the children’s lives on the periphery, timing her visits around sporting events and school performances. The truth was, she didn’t know her children. Not really.

  “It’s a beautiful home,” she said as they headed back downstairs. “Perfect, down to the smallest detail.”

  “I tried. The basement is still mostly unfinished. Eventually that will be a hangout place where the kids can bring their friends. I’m planning a home theater as well as a game room with Ping-Pong and pool tables.”

  She couldn’t quite imagine Bridger and Cassie as rambunctious teenagers but knew that that time was right around the corner. Cassie was almost ten. She would be dating before they knew it.

  What would happen now between them all? Would Luke allow her to be part of the children’s lives? She had already missed so much. She didn’t want to continue on the periphery but the future seemed as murky as the gathering clouds outside.

  She did notice one glaring exception to his penchant for detail as they returned to the great room.

  “What about Christmas? Christmas Eve is a week away and you don’t even have a Christmas tree.”

  He winced. “Yeah. Believe me, I’m aware. Both kids have been nagging me about that. Right after we moved in, I ordered a big tree that wouldn’t be dwarfed by the two-story ceiling in the great room, but the company had shipping problems and it only arrived last week. We were planning to set it up and decorate it Sunday, but then I got the tip about Christina Torres planning to file charges and that took priority. Things were a little crazy last night, so it didn’t happen, but we’ll get to it.”

  He gave her a considering look. “Maybe you can help with that. You did a great job staging the other house.”

  “Me?” She stared at him, shocked at the suggestion.

  “You don’t have to. It was just an idea.”

  “No.” She hurried to answer. “I would love to help. But I thought you wanted me to...leave town as soon as possible.”

  He leaned against the kitchen counter. “I’ve been thinking about that. About you leaving, I mean. You said you have an airplane ticket home on Christmas Eve. Maybe we should stick with those plans. You should stay at least until the program on Monday night.”

  She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, so loudly it seemed to echo in her ears. “You would let me...go to the program?”

  “You’re the one who said we still have work to do restoring my reputation. Christina Torres is only one person. You may have convinced her you’re still alive and kicking. But what about the rest of the town? Bridger and Cass are most impacted by gossip at school passed down by kids who hear it at home from their parents.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I was thinking maybe Megan might have some ideas of places where we could show up around town this week. The school program is one. Maybe the fund-raiser she and the other Helping Hands are throwing Sunday. She might have other suggestions.”

  Tuesday. She could stay until Christmas Eve. Was it possible he might let her stay through the holidays? She couldn’t even imagine the joy. She had spent so many Christmases alone, aching for her children and the man she loved with all her heart.

  The price she would have to pay would be steep, though. She would have to speak with people, despite her awkward, brain-injured speech. She might even have to confess why she had left.

  Could she do it?

  She had to. She owed it to Luke, after everything he had been through. This was the least she could do.

  “Are you up for that?” he asked. “I don’t want you to overdo.”

  He was watching out for her. The concern in his eyes made her want to cry. “I would love to spend this week with the children and you. I’ll...gladly help you decorate and go to the school program and...anything else you want me to do. Anything, Luke.”

  She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing down, and after another minute, he sighed and pulled her into his arms.

  This was a much different embrace than their angry one the day before. This was tender, gentle. Healing. She cried for a moment longer, then became lost in the sheer wonder of being close to him.

  She wanted to rest her cheek against his shirt and stay here forever, feeling his warmth and listening to his heartbeat. She’d thought she remembered how good he felt next to her, but her memories paled in comparison to the real thing.

  This was heaven.

  She nestled closer, wishing they could curl up together on the sofa and stay this way all day. Eventually, she knew she had to move. She lifted her face to meet his gaze. “Thank you. I’m...sorry I lost it like that.”

  “You’ve had a rough day,” he said, his voice rough. “You have every right to be emotional.”

  She wanted to kiss him again. Not out of anger but from the sheer joy of being here in this beautiful house while a fire blazed in the hearth, from sheer relief that she had revealed the worst about herself and he was still willing to let her talk to their children.

  “Thank you,” she whispered again, then stood on tiptoe and pressed her mouth to the corner of his.

  He didn’t move for two seconds, maybe three. For one agonizing moment he stood frozen. Just before she thought he would push her away, he shifted his mouth with a desperate sound deep in his throat and kissed her.

  Everything inside her seemed to sigh. Oh. This. She had missed his kiss so much. Missed the way his mouth fit hers perfectly, missed the slide of his tongue against hers, missed the soft, aching hunger rising up inside her.

  This was her husband, the man she loved. The chance to be with him like this felt like a precious gift and she didn’t want to waste an instant of it.

  Chapter Twelve

  This couldn’t really be happening. Could it?

  A few hours ago, he had been so furious at this woman in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to look at her, forget about holding her like this, kissing her with this tender emotion swirling around him.

  How had everything changed so quickly? In only a few hours, his perspective had completely shifted.

  She hadn’t left him and their kids. She had suffered a terrible accident and had had to relearn everything. That she wasn’t dead, that she was here, warm and sweet in his arms, seemed like the most priceless of gifts.

  Their kiss the day before had come from a place of anger and pain. This was far different. This was a reunion, a celebration of sorts. As he kissed her, tasted her, he was yanked back more than a decade, to those heady first months of their marriage when he couldn’t get enough of the amazing woman who had miraculously fallen for him.

  She didn’t look the same now. Her cheekbones were different, her nose missing the little bump he had loved. But her mouth tasted the same and her eyes still seemed to see straight through him.

  He had missed her every single day of the past seven years. She was here, right now, in his arms, and he felt as if he had been waiting for this moment forever.

  They kissed for a long time, standing there by the fireplace in the great room. He kissed her until he couldn’t think straight, until the initial tenderness gave way to hunger. He wanted to take her into the master bedroom off the kitchen, to explore every part of her he had missed so much.

  He even moved in that direction, not really thinking it through but knowing he wanted to be closer to her. They
had made it just to the door when Finn suddenly barked from his spot by the fire and the sound seemed to arrow straight through the haze of desire, especially when he heard what sounded like a key in the front door.

  Cassie and Bridger were home from school.

  He slid his mouth away, dazed and aching for more. Somehow he managed to pull his brain together long enough to step away from her an instant before the front door opened.

  “Hey, Finn. Who’s a good boy? Huh?” Bridger said. He could picture the boy petting the dog while he jumped all over him.

  “Dad? Are you home?” Cassie called.

  His eyes met Elizabeth’s and the shocked arousal in them almost had him reaching for her again.

  They had always been like this together, incinerating at the first touch.

  “Wait here,” he murmured to her, kind of nudging her into the room, before he turned to face the children. “Grab a snack and I...we will be there in a moment.”

  “Who’s we?” Bridger asked. “Is it Aunt Megan? I need to tell her about the new game we played at recess.”

  How was he supposed to break the news to the kids that their mother was alive and well and in their house? He had no idea how to find the right words for that kind of revelation.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” he called out again. “I have something I...need to tell you.”

  He couldn’t see the children, but he could visualize their expressions. Bridger would be purely curious, his eyes eager to find out something fun and his dimples flashing as he grinned in anticipation.

  Cassie, on the other hand, would be curious, too, but her expression would probably lean more toward apprehension. She didn’t love surprises. She was a great kid but she had been through so very much—not only losing her mother, but dealing with the aftermath. The rumors and gossip and hurtful accusations.

  Over the last few years, those rumors had begun to impact her more. She didn’t say much about it but he knew she heard them and he knew they bothered her. He didn’t need her to tell him that. He could tell by the way she seemed to shrink into herself.

  Both his kids needed this to be resolved. It wasn’t right that they had to live without their mom all these years and also had to be subject to gossip about their father.

  When he walked into the master bedroom and closed the door behind him, he found Elizabeth standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around her chest. She had started to tremble, little shivers she probably wasn’t even aware of making. Was it in response to his kiss or because she had heard the children?

  Did he owe her an apology? He hadn’t intended the kiss to spiral out of control like that. Another minute or two and he would have lowered her to the bed, just like old times.

  “Elizabeth, I—”

  “Don’t,” she said, her voice little more than a squeak. “It happened. The best thing is for both of us to...to forget about it now.”

  Forget about it? What kind of man did she think he was? In seven years, he hadn’t forgotten one single detail about her: the taste or smell or silky smoothness of her skin. He remembered everything in vivid, painful detail.

  “I don’t see that happening,” he said gruffly.

  “Dad?” Bridger’s voice sounded like it was coming right outside the room but was probably at the bottom of the stairs. “Can I have a bowl of cereal? I’m starving.”

  Right now he had more important things to think about than the stunning kiss he had just shared with his wife.

  “Yes. Just give me a minute.” It would take at least another minute or two to control his instant and shocking physical reaction to her closeness.

  “Okay,” Bridger called back.

  “I’m sorry,” Luke said to her. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “Please don’t apologize,” she said again. “I...missed kissing you.”

  Her words slid through him, filling a spot that had been empty too long.

  “I missed kissing you, too.”

  Kissing and everything else. It had been so damn long since he’d held a woman that it was taking all his strength to keep from wrapping his arms around her again.

  They had other hurdles to overcome right now, though. He looked down at Elizabeth. “Are you ready to talk to the kids?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “I’ll be right there with you.”

  He meant his words. He hadn’t been with her after her accident or during her long recovery, but he could stand beside her when she faced their children.

  “Thank you. That...means the world.”

  They walked into the kitchen with Elizabeth in front. She moved slowly but steadily. Luke’s emotions were in an uproar and he didn’t quite know what to do with them. He’d never been the best at handling strong emotions and the events of today were enough to challenge any man.

  In the last four hours, he had gone from hate to shock to unwilling compassion to aching hunger and now to this growing respect.

  When they walked into the kitchen, they found Cassie watching something on TV and Bridger eating a bowl of cereal at the counter.

  “Hey, Dad.” Bridge grinned around his spoon. “Before you ask, I don’t have any math homework. I did it in class. I still have to read another twenty minutes, though.”

  “Good. Thanks for the info.”

  “I don’t have homework either,” Cassie said, her eyes still glued to the screen. “I did all mine in class, too.”

  “Great.” At least they would have one less thing to stress about that evening.

  He knew the moment they both noticed Elizabeth standing slightly behind him. Bridger set down his spoon, his cereal only half finished, while Cassie’s jaw sagged so much, she almost spit out the piece of cheese stick she had just bitten off.

  What was the matter? They’d never seen him with a strange woman before?

  No. He answered his own question. When would they have, other than caregivers? He didn’t date. He had a few good female friends, but they were all people the kids knew well and were usually married to one of his guy friends.

  In general, his friends were a close-knit group who had stepped up to rally around him after Elizabeth disappeared. A few of them had dropped away, persuaded by the avalanche of doubt that sometimes threatened to suffocate him, but for the most part, he considered himself lucky in his friends.

  The kids knew all of them, though. They didn’t know this woman standing beside him.

  “Kids. I need you to meet someone. Cassie, can you turn off the television? Bridger, are you done with your cereal? This is important, and I need your full attention.”

  “I’m done,” Bridger said, pushing his bowl away as if to emphasize the point. Now both children looked apprehensive.

  “What’s going on?” Cassie asked.

  He didn’t know what to say. He really should have thought this through a little more, maybe warned them ahead of time before trotting out Elizabeth.

  It was too late for any kind of warning. He simply had to plow through the situation, as he’d become fairly good at over the years.

  “I have someone who would like to meet you. Well, to meet you again, anyway. Cassie, Bridger. This is your mother.”

  He held his breath, not sure what kind of reaction to expect from the children.

  Both of them seemed frozen with shock, mouths open and eyes wide. Then Cassie shoved away from the table.

  “No, she’s not. Why would you tell such a terrible lie? Our mom is dead. You said so.”

  The distress in her voice ripped through him. He was an idiot. He really should have talked to them first by himself. He blamed the kiss that had left his thoughts scattered and had tossed his common sense out the window. He could have handled this so much better if he had made Elizabeth stay in the other room while he tried somehow to ready his children.

 
How could he possibly have prepared them for the sudden reappearance of their mother in their lives? No words of warning he might have uttered would have been adequate to explain away this sudden shocking turn of events.

  He took Cassie’s hands in his. They were trembling, much as her mother’s were.

  “For a long time, that’s what I thought. That she was dead. I truly believed she was gone. Recently, though, Aunt Megan and Elliot found her. It took a lot of work and a lot of searching but I promise. This is your mother.”

  Cassie ripped her hands away. “You’re wrong,” she snapped. “This isn’t her. It doesn’t even look like her. I’ve seen the photographs. Plus, I remember her a little. I don’t know who this lady is, but she’s not my mom.”

  “You said our mom died.” Bridger echoed his sister, looking baffled.

  Luke grimaced. How the hell did he explain this complicated situation to his kids? He barely understood it himself.

  “I thought she had died. I was sure of it. I never would have told you that if I didn’t believe it myself. She was...sick and she left to get help, but when she was trying to come back, she had a bad accident.”

  He could see why she might feel guilty for her actions the night she left. Any mother should be horrified at the idea that she could even consider hurting her child. But as he’d told her, the important thing was, she hadn’t done anything to Bridger or to herself. She had fought the demons and she had won.

  “Did she get better from being sick?” Bridger asked. He cocked his head, studying Elizabeth as if wondering if she might have some obvious disorder like measles or leprosy.

  “Eventually.” Elizabeth answered his question, her voice low. “Not right away. As your dad said, I was in a terrible accident and I...I got lost for a few years, I guess you could say.”

  “Why is your face so different?” Bridger asked. “You’re not like the lady in the picture Dad has by his bed.”

  Luke flushed, not sure he wanted Elizabeth knowing he kept a picture of her in his room. He didn’t display it, though. That would have been too painful. It was in his bedside drawer. He looked at it every time he reached inside for his reading glasses or a tissue.