Elizabeth had attended the annual event for the past few years, and as far as she was concerned, this had been the best one ever. She had loved being able to sit with Luke, to feel part of the family instead of being relegated to the back row.
“All right, kids. It’s bedtime,” Luke said when the pizza was mostly gone. “It’s been a long day.”
“It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow!” Bridger exclaimed, as if suddenly remembering. “That means today is Christmas Eve Eve.”
“That’s right. And our schedule is packed full of fun tomorrow.”
“Can we go sledding?” Bridger asked.
“It’s on the list.”
“And we need to give out our friend gifts,” his sister said.
“Planning on it.”
“And our award for best Christmas decorations!”
“Oh yeah. I completely forgot about that,” Cassie said.
“I didn’t,” Luke said. “I bought the prize the other day when I was shopping in Shelter Springs. It’s under the tree.”
“What prize?” Elizabeth had to ask.
“Every year, the kids vote on their favorite holiday display in someone’s yard around town. I buy a little prize and we deliver it on Christmas Eve.”
“Last year it was my friend Sarah’s house,” Cassie said.
“The year before that, it was Mr. and Mrs. Leclair,” Bridger added.
“What a...fun idea.”
“Hey, you can help us award the winner this year,” Bridger said with delight. “Maybe you can be the tiebreaker.”
“I don’t know if I’m...ready for that kind of responsibility,” Elizabeth said gravely.
“It’s not hard. It’s just for fun,” Bridger answered, tone serious.
“Oh, whew.”
“Go put on your pajamas and brush your teeth and I’ll be up to read to you shortly,” Luke said.
“I want to read to myself,” Cassie said. “I’m rereading my favorite series since I hope I get the latest book for Christmas. I only have fifty pages to go.”
“You probably will get some kind of book. That’s what Aunt Megan always gives us.” Bridger’s disgusted tone made her smile.
“Books are the very best gifts,” Elizabeth said. “You know my...favorite quote about that? Books are the...best gifts because you can open them...again and again.”
“Ha ha. I get it. Not open the present, open the book,” Bridger said with delight.
Oh, how she adored him. Bridger was funny and smart and creative. When she thought of how she almost hurt this innocent child that terrible night, she became physically ill.
“Will you read to me tonight?” he asked her now.
She looked at Luke, who shrugged. “Go ahead. I don’t mind.”
“Yay!”
“What book are you going to read?” Luke asked.
“I don’t know. Something good out of the Christmas basket. Do you want to pick?” Bridger asked her.
“What...Christmas basket?”
“We keep all our holiday-themed storybooks in a basket by the Christmas tree. It helps to keep them organized. The kids like to pick a new one every night. Well, Bridger, usually.”
“You pick one for tonight while I go get my pajamas on,” her son ordered.
“Deal,” she answered. While the two children raced up the stairs, she went into the great room and found a basket overflowing with storybooks. For some reason, the sight of them touched her, bringing tears to her eyes.
It took work to create a collection this big. She pictured Luke going through school book orders or letting the kids make a choice at a book fair. Megan probably helped add to the collection, at least according to Bridger, and they may have received some as gifts from teachers.
This collection represented all the Christmases she had missed with her children. All the stories she hadn’t read to them, all the moments that had slipped past her, never to be recaptured.
She stood for a moment, hands on the spines of the books.
“Are you okay?”
She turned, not realizing Luke had followed her. “Yes. Of course. Why?”
“You’ve been sitting there looking through the books for ten minutes. I can tell you, it doesn’t really matter which one you pick. Bridger likes whatever you read to him. He’s easy that way.”
She grabbed a random book from the back of the collection and made her slow, awkward way up the stairs.
“I’m ready,” Bridger told her when she knocked on his bedroom door. He was already in his bed, covers up and playing with a couple of superhero action figures.
“Did you...brush your teeth?” There. That was a motherly thing to say.
In answer, he widened his mouth in a rictus sort of grin. “See? Sparkly.”
She smiled. “How...does this work?”
“Dad usually sits on the chair or on the other bed.” He pointed to the twin bed next to his that must be for friend sleepovers. “Only when he does that, sometimes he falls asleep there, right in the middle of the story. When he does, I put a blanket on him and let him stay there.”
She sat down where Bridger indicated, touched by the picture her imagination conjured of Luke stretched out at the end of a long day of trying to be a mother and a father.
The book she selected turned out to be a good one, a funny, charming tale about a mouse trying to make it home to his family for Christmas and encountering obstacle after obstacle. Reading someone else’s words was so much easier than trying to come up with her own. She didn’t stumble over them, didn’t struggle to find the right one. If only someone would write a script she could follow in all other aspects of her life.
Though the story line hit a little too close to home, she made it through the book without becoming too emotional.
“Thanks, Mom,” Bridger said sleepily when she finished. “Will you still be here tomorrow?”
The innocent question seemed to suck the air out of the room. He had lived most of his life without his mother. It was only normal for him to worry she might leave again without warning.
“I’ll be here. Don’t worry. I’m not going back to Oregon until the day after Christmas. We have more time together.”
“Good.” He smiled. “I like having you here.”
She heard a sound by the door and looked over to see Luke leaning against the jamb. The expression in his eyes left her suddenly breathless.
“Thank you, son,” she said. The word felt foreign on her tongue but so perfect, she had to fight tears again.
She didn’t need Christmas presents. She only needed this precious moment with her child to fill her heart to overflowing. She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Mom.”
On legs that suddenly shook, she rose and headed out into the hall. Luke turned the light off in Bridger’s room. “Good night,” he said.
“Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” their son said.
“Same to you,” Luke answered before closing the door behind him.
Cassie’s light was still on, so Luke knocked on the door.
“Come in,” she called.
He opened her door. “You can read another half hour, then lights out. Even if you’re not finished with the book.”
“I should be done by then. Good night, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you, too, bug.”
She looked past him toward Elizabeth, standing in the hallway. “Night.”
Of course her daughter would not say the same words of affection to her. Elizabeth had not earned Cassie’s love. Not by a long shot. At least Cassie seemed to be tolerating her much better now than she had a few days earlier.
After Luke closed their daughter’s door, the two of them stood rather awkwardly in the hall for a moment.
“
I, uh, should put the leftover pizza away and clean up the kitchen.”
“I can help.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is to me.”
Gripping the banister, she made her way slowly down the stairs. Going down was always so much more difficult than making her way up, probably because gravity added more strain to her bad leg. Tonight she felt weaker than normal, her balance unsteady. Was it because Luke was there behind her, watching her slow progress?
She was breathing hard by the time they reached the bottom, tired and sad that the simple act of tucking her children into bed could turn into such an ordeal.
At least the kitchen cleanup was easy, only wrapping the leftover slices and stowing them in the refrigerator, throwing away the pizza box and loading their plates into the dishwasher.
They worked together, finishing the job in only a few moments.
“Okay. That’s done,” Luke said, leaning back against the edge of the table and giving her a careful look. “Now can you tell me what’s wrong?”
She glanced up from the sink, where she was wringing out the dishcloth she had used to wipe down the counters.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been quiet since the show at the school ended. Something is obviously bothering you. Are you feeling okay?”
She didn’t want to tell him about the conversation she had overheard or how it had forced her to face the grim reality that she couldn’t continue spinning ridiculous fantasies about building a life again with him and their children.
She forced a smile. “Just tired. I took my...seizure medicine later than normal and it...kind of wiped me out.”
He blinked a little, as if he had forgotten about her seizures. “Oh. Never mind, then. I was going to ask if you would mind helping me wrap some last-minute presents for the kids, but I can handle it.”
“Of course,” she said quickly. “Wrapping gifts doesn’t take much effort. I would be glad to help you.”
At least that was something she could still do.
“We should probably wait a few more minutes to make sure they’re asleep and don’t walk in on us.”
They both seemed to realize what else his words could represent. Memories of her body entangled with his, of the heat and wonder they always found together, soaked through her, and Elizabeth had to catch her breath. Luke’s eyes darkened and somehow she knew he was remembering those same moments.
Tension seemed to swirl around them, sweet and heady and impossible.
“Wrapping presents, I meant. I don’t want them to walk in on us wrapping presents,” he said gruffly.
“I knew...what you meant.”
She couldn’t manage to say anything else, filled with a longing so intense it made her ache.
“If you’re too tired, don’t worry about it. I’ve done most of them already and it won’t take me long to finish wrapping the rest.”
The children. She needed to focus on the children now. “I want to do it. I need to make a phone call to my...friend Melissa in Oregon and then I can help. Where are the gifts?”
“Christmas Central is my office right now. It has a walk-in closet I can lock from curious little snoopers, so I’ve stored everything there.”
She nodded. She could imagine Bridger and Cassie scouring the house for their Christmas gifts. Something told her that if they set their minds to it, a locked closet door wouldn’t be enough to keep them out.
“I’ll go...make my phone call and...meet you in a few minutes.”
In the large master bedroom, she took a moment to collapse onto the bed, holding her hands against her flaming cheeks. She had to quit letting her imagination run away with her. She missed the physical connection she had once shared with her husband so fiercely it kept her awake at night. That didn’t mean she should make a stupid mistake that would make leaving even more difficult.
After splashing a little water on her face, she pulled out her cell phone and punched in Melissa’s number. She had promised Skye she would be home in time for Christmas and owed the girl an apology for breaking that promise.
Melissa answered on the first ring. “There you are! We’ve been so worried about you.”
“I told Rosa I was staying through Christmas. She said she would tell you.”
“She passed on the message but we still worry. All of us. How are things there?”
“Good. I should be home in a few days.”
“And how’s that gorgeous husband of yours?”
Still gorgeous. And still completely out of her reach.
“He’s...fine. May I speak with...Skye? Has she gone to bed yet?”
“Not yet. She’s right here.”
A moment later, Melissa handed the phone to her daughter.
“Hi, Sonia.”
That name seemed completely unfamiliar now, after a week as Elizabeth. How would she go back?
“Hi, sweetheart. I need to tell you I’m not going to make it back tomorrow to see you on Christmas Eve like I promised. I’m staying here a few more days.”
“Mom told me,” Skye said, disappointment clear in her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Mom said you’re with your family. That’s the most important thing.”
“Thanks for...understanding.”
“You’ll be here for my mom and Eli’s wedding, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Merry Christmas and...I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, Sonia. Merry Christmas.”
Skye handed the phone back to her mother, and Elizabeth and Melissa talked wedding details and holiday plans for a few moments before wrapping up the call.
When she ended the connection, Elizabeth sat for a moment, grateful she had good friends in Oregon. Something told her she was going to need them more than ever in the coming days.
Chapter Twenty
When she made her way to the other wing of the house and the room Luke was using for an office, she found him setting up a small folding table, along with a couple of chairs.
“Hey. Everything okay in Oregon?”
“Yes. I...promised my friend’s daughter I would see her at Christmas. I needed to...apologize for not making it...back when I said I would.” She felt stupid for even mentioning it. “I suppose that must seem...ridiculous compared to all the time I’ve missed with Bridger and Cassie over the...years.”
“Not at all. I’m glad you have people there who care about you.”
She looked around at the tubes of wrapping paper he had laid out on the bed.
“Do you wrap each of the children’s presents every year?”
Luke looked embarrassed. “Megan helps me sometimes. And I’ll confess, there have been times I’ve taken the easy way and used gift bags as much as possible. When he was younger, Bridger had a big thing about opening presents. He loved that even more than whatever was inside. If he had the chance, he would rip open everybody’s presents. He won’t admit it but he still likes opening gifts, so I always feel like not wrapping them deprives him of a little extra joy.”
He was a remarkable father. The contrast between Luke and all she had heard about his own father was stunning.
“With all that practice, you’d think I’d be better at it, but my gifts still always look like they were wrapped by a monkey wearing mittens.”
She smiled a little. “Where do you need me...to start?”
“Everything’s wrapped except a few things I ordered online that came later than I expected. All I have left are the things on the table.”
There were a few board games, some books, new earrings for Cassie, as well as new soccer balls for both kids.
She picked out wrapping paper, tape and ribbon and went to work.
“Wow. That took you half the time it would have me,” Luke said when she
tied the last bow with a flourish. “They look great.”
“Thanks. Is that everything?”
“I think so. I can’t believe it but I think that means Christmas is ready. Thanks for your help.”
“I didn’t do very much but I’m glad I could contribute at least a little.”
He was quiet. “The kids loved having you there tonight.”
“I’m glad.”
“So did I,” he added.
His low, gruff words seemed to hover between them. She was suddenly breathless.
“Have you thought more about my suggestion last night that you move back permanently?”
Had she thought about anything else? “Yes,” she said slowly.
“Think about how wonderful it would be for the kids. They’re hungry to have you back in their lives.”
“Maybe...Bridger. I’m not sure about Cassie.”
“Things are better with her, though, right? She doesn’t seem as angry. It will just take time. We’ve got an appointment with the child and family therapist after the New Year.”
“That will help.” Elizabeth certainly knew the value of a good mental health professional.
“This is me speaking and not the therapist, but it makes all the sense in the world that she would adjust more quickly if she has you as a regular part of her life, not only as a long-distance mom.”
Elizabeth wanted that, too, so very much. Seeing them every day would be a dream come true.
“Think how great it would be if you could attend all their games and school events, not only a couple times a year when you can arrange trips back here,” he pressed.
Images crowded through her head. Helping them with homework. Going to the library. Teaching Cassie how to bake the prized apple pie Elizabeth’s mom used to make.
“You could live in the other house. For now, anyway.”
“For...now.” She sounded like a stupid parrot. She couldn’t seem to make her brain cooperate, the words more slippery than normal.
He sighed and took her hand in his. Could he feel how her fingers were trembling? “I still have feelings for you, Elizabeth. I would like to see if maybe we could try again.”
“You want to...stay married?”
Coming Home for Christmas Page 24
