Christmas in Cambria

by Linda Seed

  Delilah hadn’t realized how starved she was for adult conversation until Quinn showed up and suddenly she was having one.

  Talking to Jesse and Gavin was fine—it was better than fine, in fact; it was one of her favorite things to do—but she always had to filter with them. She always had to act calm and in control so they wouldn’t be scared about whatever their future held.

  Sometimes, Delilah longed to admit to someone that her life had been run through a wood chipper and she now had to make something decent out of the resulting chips.

  Why the hell shouldn’t she admit all of that to Quinn? It wasn’t like she was going to see him again after today.

  “So, does their dad ever take them hiking or camping?” Quinn asked.

  Delilah saw that for what it was—a fishing expedition regarding her marital status. She knew she should keep her private business to herself, but she was so tired of filtering, so tired of struggling to stay strong, that she couldn’t do it for even one more minute.

  The boys had run up ahead on the trail again, so they were out of earshot. Why not just come clean with it?

  “No, he doesn’t. Their father moved to Paris with his mistress, and we haven’t seen him in months. Except when I took him to court for spousal and child support.”

  “Holy shit.” His voice was tinged with awe. “How did the settlement work out?”

  “Well enough. I can take care of the boys without having to work three jobs. Or any, for now. But no amount of money would be worth what we’ve gone through.”

  “I guess not. What does he do?”

  Delilah glanced at Quinn as they walked. “He’s an attorney. Corporate. Formerly of Wall Street, now of the firm’s Paris office.”

  “He’s an attorney and he didn’t know he had to pay alimony and child support?”

  “Oh, he knew. That’s just it. He knew everything. He knew exactly how long he could put it off without having to pay, and he knew exactly how to do it. Meanwhile, I got a job bagging groceries for minimum wage so I could buy food for his children. It wasn’t enough. I had to borrow money from my parents to pay the utility bills.” She shook her head, the bitterness still fresh. “And he had zero remorse about it, even though he was the one who left me. He was the one who cheated.” She could hear the anger and spite in her voice, and she willed herself to tone it down. Quinn didn’t need to hear all of this. He didn’t need to be saddled with the job of soothing her emotional wounds.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” They crested a hill and stood to look at the ocean spreading out far below them.”You know what the worst part of it is?” she asked, continuing to talk about it even as she told herself to stop it.

  “What?”

  “Not bad-mouthing him to the boys. Keeping positive in front of them. Reassuring them that their father loves them and wants the best for them, contrary to all appearances.”

  “God. I can’t imagine.”

  She glanced at him. “Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Ever been?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Well, don’t.” She couldn’t seem to keep the venom out of her voice. “Because those vows? They didn’t mean anything. He promised in front of God to devote his life to me, and that didn’t stop him from walking away the minute things stopped being fun. The minute our marriage stopped meeting his own selfish needs …”

  Damn it. Now she was crying. Not loud boo-hooing, thank God, but a tear slipped down her cheek entirely against her will. She wiped it away and folded her arms across her chest. She let out a bitter laugh. “Clearly, I’m a ray of sunshine.”

  Quinn wondered what, exactly, he’d stumbled onto.

  He’d been interested in talking to Delilah, in walking with her a little, because she was attractive and appealing. But he hadn’t anticipated the emotional landmines that had been set for him to step on.

  He had conflicting emotions: Part of him wanted to excuse himself, make up some errand he’d forgotten to do or some appointment he was late for, and get the hell out of there. But another part of him wanted to fly to Paris, track down Delilah’s ex, and kick the crap out of him.

  What kind of man abandoned his wife and children? And what kind of man would want to leave Delilah in the first place?

  Oh, there were two sides to every story—he knew that. But right now, damned if he could think of what her ex’s side of it might be.

  “So you’re here, what? Taking a break from your problems?” he asked.

  “Something like that. Our house was sold in the settlement, so we’re between places.” She smiled, just a little. “We came here so I could think. So I could take some time to contemplate what comes next. And, I might be running away from my family until the holidays are over. I’d have to admit that’s a factor.”

  “Don’t tell me they’re taking his side.”

  “Not exactly. But they do think the split is just temporary—something we’ll both get over. And they treat me like I’m damaged. As if I’m going to break into a thousand pieces like some delicate crystal figurine.”

  “Or like a bomb that’s set to go off,” he suggested.

  “Yes, also that.”

  They walked a little more while the boys chased a rabbit that had found its way onto the trail.

  “So, that’s my story,” she said. “What’s yours?”

  “I don’t have a story.”

  She guffawed. “That’s not true. Everybody has a story.”

  Okay, she was right. He had a story. But damned if he was going to tell it to her.

  What was this, a competition for whose life was more fucked up? She’d probably win, all things considered, but not by much.

  “Come on,” she said. “I’m a stranger. You’re probably never going to see me again. Why not tell me?”

  He shrugged, then lied to her. “There’s nothing to tell.”

  He could see on her face that she didn’t believe him—not for a second. He gave her a half grin—tacit admission that she was right and he was holding out on her—then ran ahead to look at the lizard the boys had found.

  Chapter 8

  The accidental meetup with Delilah was nothing. Obviously. He’d been walking, and she’d been walking, and they’d run into each other. It happened. In a small town like Cambria, Quinn ran into people he knew all the time. You stopped, you chatted, and then you went on your way.

  Except now that he was back home, he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her.

  He wasn’t mooning over her or anything. She wasn’t the kind of woman he would moon over, even if he were inclined toward that sort of thing.

  His usual woman was a solid nine on the one-to-ten scale, and Delilah was … well. She was too normal to even be on the scale in the first place. Too much like your next-door neighbor. Too much like somebody’s mom.

  Hell, she was somebody’s mom.

  And yet, right now if he had a chance to be with one of those nines or with Delilah, he would choose Delilah, hands down. She had those curves, for one thing. And that expressive face that told you whatever she was thinking. And that glossy hair. He loved her glossy hair.

  And, damn it, none of this was useful. None of it was productive. Because there was no way he was going to date her, or sleep with her, or do anything with her except casual chat should he run into her again sometime.

  Maybe what he needed was to spend some time with a nine to get his mind off of mom-next-door Delilah.

  The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a fine idea.

  The plus side of running into Quinn at Fiscalini Ranch was that Delilah had enjoyed a lovely time talking to an adult—and an attractive one, at that.

  The negative side was that the chance encounter had started the boys back on their obsession with Quinn.

  “Can we have him take us on a hike? Or camping? Please?” Jesse begged. “Mom? Can we?”

  “Please?” Gavin asked, talking
around the thumb that was plugged into his mouth.

  This was lunchtime on the day after their meetup at Fiscalini, and the boys were still going on about it. Even though Delilah had already said no. Repeatedly.

  “Guys, eat your lunch.” She’d put out grilled cheese sandwiches and bowls of tomato soup, but both of the boys were too focused on badgering her to pay any attention to their food.

  Jesse obediently took a bite of his sandwich, probably hoping she’d be more amenable to his demands if he were compliant. He still had a mouthful of grilled cheese when he started in again.

  “It would be safer. I wouldn’t get hurt. You wouldn’t have to worry.”

  “Jesse, honey, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “But Mom—”

  “Chew, swallow, then talk.” She’d repeated that refrain so many times she thought she should have it printed on a T-shirt.

  He chewed, swallowed, and then, unfortunately for Delilah, began to talk again.

  “We’d be doing him a favor,” Jesse said. “Because it’s his job, and he probably needs people to hire him, and he did us a favor, so it just makes sense.”

  Gavin nodded his agreement.

  “Guys …”

  “Why not?” Jesse demanded. “Why can’t we?”

  Delilah tried not to talk to her boys like they were kids. She tried to talk to them like they were people. Maybe it was time for some person-to-person straight talk.

  She sat down across from them at the table and folded her hands on the tabletop.

  “Do you know what I think?” she began. “I think you like Quinn so much because you both really miss your dad, and you want Quinn to be kind of like a substitute. Just for a little while, to make you feel better. And I’m not sure that helps anything. I’m not sure that’s going to solve anything for either of you.”

  Gavin’s wide eyes pooled with tears. “When is Dad coming back?”

  Delilah’s heart felt the tight squeeze of sympathy, and she blinked a few times to keep from crying herself. “Oh, honey. I don’t know. Maybe you can talk to him about it the next time he calls.”

  Mitch hadn’t called for weeks, and that was yet another thing that made Delilah blind with fury. She pushed the anger down to someplace inside her where her children wouldn’t see it.

  “He barely even calls,” Jesse said, as though reading her mind. “And when he does, it’s all, ‘How’s school going? How are your grades?’ And then he says he has to go.”

  The anger in Jesse’s eyes mirrored her own rage at her ex. If she didn’t handle things right with Jesse, the anger in him might win. She couldn’t let that happen.

  “Honey?” She waited until Jesse looked at her, and she reached out and took both of his hands in hers. “None of this is your fault, okay? Yours either, Gavin. I mean that. What happened between me and your dad was his fault and mine. None of it was yours.”

  Taking part of the blame herself—the and mine of her statement—stung her, but she had to say it to avoid demonizing Mitch to the children who loved him. And it was probably true on some level, wasn’t it? Surely part of the failure of her marriage was her fault. Mitch certainly thought so. And sometimes, in her darker moments, Delilah thought so, too. She’d done something wrong, and she didn’t know what it was, so she hadn’t been able to fix it.

  Which just might mean she was now and would always be unworthy of love.

  She got up, went around to their side of the table, kissed both of her boys on their sweet, fragrant heads, and went into the bedroom so they wouldn’t see her lose her composure.

  With all of that going on, Roxanne chose exactly the wrong time to call Delilah to nag her about Thanksgiving.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come? Mom and Dad really want to see you. And Grandma Joan’s been asking. You know she doesn’t have that many Thanksgivings left in her.”

  “That’s low.” Delilah propped one fist on her hip, her cell phone to her ear. “Using Grandma Joan to manipulate me, that’s just …”

  “Did it work?”

  “No!”

  Why couldn’t Roxanne understand that Delilah needed to be away from everything—including her family—for a while? Why couldn’t she get it?

  “But I just don’t see why you wouldn’t want to be around your family right now,” Roxanne said. “I would think you’d want to surround yourself with people who love you and want the best for you.”

  Delilah, who was standing on the back patio so the kids wouldn’t hear her conversation, tipped her head back and closed her eyes, willing herself to be patient with her sister. The waves crashing against the rocks below the house provided a soothing backdrop to the noise in her head. The day was clear, and the sky was a piercing blue.

  “Look,” Delilah tried again. “I know everyone means well. But they pity me.”

  “Oh, Delilah. That’s not—”

  “They do. And that would be bad enough, but they’re also pushing an agenda. Mom wants me and the boys to move back home, and she’s got Dad on her side, and probably you and Grandma Joan, too. And I can’t. I can’t move into my old bedroom and pretend that isn’t a huge step backward. I can’t make decisions based on what my mom and dad want me to do. I have to decide what’s best for me and my kids. On my own. And I can’t do that if—”

  “Okay. Okay. I get it.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes.”

  The fact that she had to keep having this conversation with various members of her family was putting Delilah under stress she didn’t need on top of everything else going on in her life. She was tempted to turn off her phone, screen all of her calls, and pretend she’d fallen off the earth.

  She didn’t mean to take it all out on her sister, but she did.

  “I don’t think you do get it!” she went on. “I think you pity me, too. I think you’re smug and superior because, hey, your life isn’t the one that’s been run through a shredder. Your life isn’t the one that’s turned out to be a lie. You’re not the one who’s homeless and directionless, and … and … and you’re not the one who doesn’t know who you even are anymore! And I just don’t need you or anyone else looking at me over the sweet potato casserole thinking, ‘Poor Delilah. She’s a total wreck.’ Because I know I’m a wreck! I already know! And I don’t need to hear it from you or Grandma Joan or anyone else! I won’t have it!”

  At first, Roxanne was silent. Then she said, “Are you done?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you feel better now that you’ve gotten that out?”

  “I … yes. I actually do.”

  “Good. Then my work here is done.”

  All at once, Delilah was flooded with guilt for the things she’d said. Roxanne wasn’t smug and superior. She was just trying to help.

  “Rox?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I didn’t mean …”

  “I know.”

  “I just needed to vent, and I—”

  “I know. But, Delilah?”

  “What?”

  “It’s really good sweet potato casserole, and you’ll be missing it.”

  Delilah let out a laugh, and it felt good. It felt cleansing. “I love you, you know,” she told her sister.

  “Pffft. Of course I know that. Call me soon.” And then Roxanne hung up.

  Chapter 9

  The boys were still nagging about Quinn two days later, and Delilah couldn’t take it anymore. Her resolve broke and she called him.

  “Quinn Monroe.”

  His voice was deep and resonant, and Delilah felt it down to her toes. But she couldn’t get distracted by things like deep, resonant voices. She’d called for a reason.

  “Uh … hi. This is Delilah. Ballard. Delilah Ballard.” She was babbling like an idiot, which she hadn’t done the last time she’d talked to him. There was something about calling a man on the phone that made her feel like she was back in high school asking Tony Martin to the Sadie Hawkins Dance. He’d said no, so there were
scars.

  “Oh. Hey.”

  “I was just … I was wondering if you had some time to take us on a hike. Me and the boys. They’ve really … They’ve been asking. Nagging, honestly. Pestering. Driving me to near insanity, if you must know.”

  He laughed, and that was deep and resonant, too.

  “Any particular route in mind?” he asked.

  “No. I’ll leave that up to you. Just something we can do in a couple of hours that’s not likely to result in one or more of my sons falling off a cliff.”

  The laugh again. It made her stomach do odd things she absolutely did not need it doing right now.

  “I’m sure I can come up with something that’ll work.”

  “Great.”

  They talked about his schedule and put something on the books for later that week.

  “The kids are going to be really excited,” Delilah told him. It was an understatement.

  “You know what?” he said. “I kind of am, too.”

  Quinn got a kick out of the Ballard kids. Jesse had a bright and fiery personality, and Gavin seemed like a gentle soul—the kind of person you wanted to protect from the realities of the world.

  The idea of hanging out with them wasn’t the worst thing he could think of. And, hell, he was man enough to admit that their hero worship fed his ego in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant.

  He found himself looking forward to Thursday, when he would lead them on an easy two-hour hike. He got on his computer and started researching routes. He knew most of the trails around here, but it paid to double-check for any hazards the boys might get into, given what had happened last time.

  As he Googled and scrolled, he thought about Delilah.

  She was funny—so there was that. She had a way of talking that wasn’t inclined toward comedy, exactly, but her wry delivery made him smile or even chuckle all the same.

  He found himself wishing he’d met her under different circumstances. Before she’d gotten married and had kids, to be specific.