A Bramble House Christmas (Carrigans of the Circle C Book 6)

by CJ Carmichael

  Thankfully she had distractions. She and Sage were developing a real friendship, helped along by the fact that Savannah and Scout really seemed to enjoy playing together. A few times their play dates extended into dinner invitations that included Willa.

  Being invited into Sage and Dawson’s world was amazing for Willa. Her parents were kind and caring with one another. But Sage and Dawson loved to tease and flirt. There was so much laughter in their house.

  Willa especially admired their approach with their children. They were both loving and responsible. But they were so relaxed, as well.

  In the far distant past Willa could remember a time when she, too, had been that sort of parent. And Jeff may not have been the most practical father, but at least when he was around their home had been filled with music. He would bring his guitar into the kitchen and play while she cooked. And times when Scout was crabby, Jeff could usually make him smile by singing silly songs.

  She had to try harder to be that person again. The mother she had been before the cancer. Watching Sage she began to believe it was possible.

  And then, about ten days after they’d arrived in Marietta, Scout woke up with a sore throat and a running nose.

  “I’m afraid you caught a cold,” she told him, after checking his temperature and finding it normal. She tried to sound like this was no big deal, but inside she was panicking.

  Perhaps it was just a cold now. But what if it developed into something worse...bronchitis or pneumonia? They were so far from Scout’s pediatrician. Yes, he’d given her a recommendation for someone in Bozeman, but that was such a long drive away.

  Maybe she should book tickets home now, before Scout got too sick to travel.

  Just in case.

  Willa shut herself in the bathroom and stared at her reflection. You’re crazy. Don’t overreact. But no matter what she told herself, tension seeped into every cell in her body, and a dark, impending doom pervaded the very air she breathed. It was a feeling she’d lived with for years...

  She splashed water on her face, then took a deep breath and went out to take her son downstairs for breakfast.

  They were the last to arrive in the sunny dining room. Mable Bramble was at her usual chair, sipping tea from her fine bone china cup. Next to her was Finn, looking incredibly appealing in a dark gray sweater the same color as his eyes. Marshall and Eliza had been waiting for them before serving the waffles and sausages they’d prepared for that morning’s feast.

  Scout pumped his arm. “Waffles!”

  Then, abruptly, he sneezed. Willa leaned over him with a tissue. “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the others. “Scout isn’t feeling well today. Maybe we should have our breakfasts in our room so we don’t risk infecting anyone”

  “It’s just a cold,” Mable said. “Don’t be silly.”

  “It’s fine,” Eliza added her assurance. “Two weeks ago we all came down with head colds. Scout probably picked up the same bug. I think the virus is making its rounds.”

  Since Scout was already pouring maple syrup on the waffle Marshall had just given him, Willa decided to give in and stay for the meal. After she’d settled into her chair, she noticed Finn looking her way. She gave him a smile, and after a brief delay, he smiled back.

  Conversation focused on a new dump of snow that had fallen during the night.

  “Should be great skiing up in the mountains,” Marshall said to Finn. “Want to rent some equipment and check it out?”

  “I might just do that.”

  “We can head to the shop after breakfast and I’ll get you outfitted. If you want something that can charge just as hard on powder days as on hard-pack I’ve got a great suggestion for you.”

  “Awesome. I’d like to see that.”

  Scout took in the conversation with interest. “Can we go skiing today, too, Mom?”

  Willa paused for a moment, noting that Finn did not jump in to invite them to join him. Not that she wanted him to. She was definitely not ready to send her six-year-old son careening down a bona fide mountain, even if he wasn’t sick. “Since you have a cold we should plan an indoor activity. Want to see a movie?”

  Scout’s face fell. “Nah. Can we phone Savannah? Maybe she’ll go sledding with me.”

  Even as he spoke, his nose was running. Willa reached over with another tissue. “Sledding is not an indoor activity young man.”

  He sighed, then picked up his fork and resumed eating.

  Willa monitored every bite he took. She was relieved when he put away most of two waffles, a sausage and a glass of orange juice. The fact that his appetite was normal had to be a good sign. He did look a little pale, though, and his nose just wouldn’t stop running.

  The fifth time she reached over to him with a tissue, he scowled at her.

  “Mom...”

  “Stop fussing over the child,” Mable said. “He has a common cold, not the black plague.”

  Willa flinched at the sharp comment, and Eliza was clearly not impressed either.

  “Aunt Mable, please.”

  “Please what? Refrain from stating my opinions in my own home? I simply don’t understand why today’s parents must constantly dote and fuss over their children.”

  Mable folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate. “Excuse me. I’d like to take my tea to the library now, Eliza.”

  After the elderly woman made her regal exit, Eliza reached over to touch Willa’s hand. “I apologize for my aunt. She can be quite...caustic.”

  “It’s fine.” Willa put on a smile hoping to smooth over the moment, even though it did hurt to have her mothering criticized so openly.

  “Thank you for being so understanding.” Eliza sighed, then pushed away from the table. “I’d better put together her tea tray before she gets really crabby.”

  “Funny how the people who don’t have kids often have the most advice on how to raise them,” Marshall observed, as he, too, rose from the table and began clearing the dishes.

  “Those who can’t do, teach,” Finn agreed.

  Willa appreciated everyone’s efforts to make her feel better, but at this point she just wanted to get her son back to their room. “Come on Scout, let’s go brush our teeth.”

  “I’m not finished my waffle.” Scout folded his arms across his chest and pushed out his lower lip.

  At most there was one bite left on his plate. She waited, then sighed as he pushed the tiny square of waffle into a pool of syrup and left it soaking. Even when he’d been at his sickest, Scout had always been an easygoing, affable child. Willa hoped this wasn’t a new stage he was entering.

  Finally, after what seemed an age, Scout picked up his fork and popped the last bite into his mouth.

  After Scout’s reluctant thank you and good-byes, Willa led the way to the second story. On the landing her son paused in front of the door to the Red room.

  “I don’t believe Kris Krinkles is really staying here.”

  “We haven’t seen him, it’s true. But Eliza and Marshall say he is.”

  “Why doesn’t he ever eat breakfast with us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I bet there’s no one in the room. Can I peek in and check?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I bet it isn’t locked.”

  “That’s no excuse for violating someone’s privacy.”

  Once again Scout scowled, leaving Willa wondering what had happened to her sweet little boy. “You sure woke up on the wrong side of your bed today.”

  Or maybe he was feeling worse than he was letting on. She was about to check his forehead again when her phone rang. Seeing it was Sage, she answered.

  “Hi Willa!”

  Just the sound of Sage’s cheerful voice made Willa smile.

  “Savannah and I were wondering if you and Scout would like to come skating with us on Miracle Lake. We’re getting a big group together. It will be a chance for Scout to meet some new friends.”

  “That does sound like fun. But Scout wo
ke up with a cold and besides, neither of us knows how to skate.”

  At the word “skate” Scout went on alert. He grabbed Willa’s free hand and gave it a tug.

  “Is it a bad cold? Savannah powered through hers last week. It didn’t slow her down much. There’s a booth where you can rent skates. None of us are experts, we just go out to have some fun.”

  Oh how lovely it would be to have Sage’s attitude, to not feel a cold was something to worry about. “It’s a tempting offer, but just to be safe we’re going to have a quiet day.”

  Sage told her she understood, but to call if she changed her mind. Willa could hardly hear her. Scout was still tugging on her arm and practically shouting at her.

  “I want to go skating, Mom. Please. I’m not sick. It’s only a cold.”

  Once she’d ended the call, Willa crouched to give Scout her full attention. “The way you’re acting right now, I suspect you’re feeling worse than you let on.”

  Scout suddenly went quiet. “If I’m nicer will you let me go?”

  Oh Scout. “I’m sorry, honey. Not today. But I promise I will take you skating when you’re feeling better.”

  Out went the bottom lip again. “It’s not fair. You said I’d get to do everything other kids get to do once my cancer went away.”

  Willa caught her breath. Her son was definitely punching below the belt today. And then she heard a creak on the stairs behind her. Scout’s eyes widened, and he rushed into their room, slamming the door.

  Slowly Willa turned. She had a pretty good idea who Scout had seen coming up the stairs behind her. And she was right.

  From the sympathetic look in his eyes, Finn had heard Scout deliver that last bombshell.

  Chapter Ten

  Cancer. The word echoed in Finn’s head as he watched Scout storm into his room. Then Willa turned to face him, her complexion pale, her eyes wide and sad.

  For a few moments neither of them said a word. A lot of puzzle pieces were falling into place for him. The strange feeling he’d had that first morning, watching them make that snowman. Willa’s over-protectiveness. Scout’s vacillating moments of bravery and fear.

  He couldn’t imagine how tough it had to be for a little guy like Scout to have to deal with a serious illness like cancer. It seemed so wrong. And it must have been even harder for Willa, to be the mother and fully capable of understanding the gravity of the situation. No wonder she sometimes got so tense and worried. She’d probably spent years on the alert for the smallest change or problem with her son.

  Willa’s gaze turned to the door. Fearing she was going to dash off, Finn put a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me.”

  Her thick dark lashes gleamed with unshed tears. She expelled a long, shaky breath, then found her voice. “It’s true. Scout’s been...a very sick boy, for a long time. He’s better now, but at times, it’s hard for either of us—mostly me—to believe it’s true, that the cancer really is gone.”

  Every worry and every question he’d had in the past six months—regarding his father’s will, regarding the Brambles, regarding pretty much everything—suddenly seemed inconsequential. “What kind of cancer was it?”

  “Acute lymphocytic leukemia.”

  “And it’s gone now?”

  She nodded, but there was no relief evident in her eyes. “So they say. But it can come back, so it’s impossible not to worry.” She glanced at the closed door to her room, then lowered her already quiet voice to almost a whisper. “Boys are at a higher risk for relapse than girls.”

  Instinctively Finn reached out to her, and as she let him draw her near, he rested his cheek against the cloud of her hair. “I’m sorry, Willa. Sorry you and Finn had to endure something so awful.”

  After a few seconds she drew in another deep breath, then pulled away. “Thanks. The hug—felt good. But I should get back to Scout.”

  He tried to put himself in her shoes. No doubt she had to be worrying about Scout’s cold, if it truly was just another bug, or a sign the cancer could be coming back. Being alone all day probably wasn’t what she or Scout needed.

  “Would you and Scout like to come to the matinee this afternoon? I think there’s a two o’clock showing of It’s a Wonderful Life.”

  “I thought you were going skiing?”

  The prospect of chasing powder suddenly seemed unappealing. “The snow will still be there tomorrow.”

  She studied his face, probably trying to figure out his motives. Finn couldn’t blame her. He’d been pretty unfriendly the past week or so.

  “I apologize if I’ve been preoccupied recently. Some family stuff came up and I let myself get buried under it all.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  “It’s complicated. Maybe another time.”

  “Then I say yes to your invitation to the movies. As long as Scout is up to it.”

  Scout wasn’t thrilled about seeing a movie that wasn’t animated and didn’t have any identifiable action heroes, but after a morning of quiet games and books at the B&B he agreed to the outing. Mostly, Willa thought, because Finn was going to be there. Plus, she’d promised him popcorn and an orange soda.

  Though his nose was still running, Scout had no fever or headache and his energy level and appetite were both fine. During a lunch of chicken noodle soup and grilled cheese sandwiches at the Main Street Diner, Willa gave herself a silent pep talk about keeping a positive attitude. She was going to kill herself with worry if she suspected cancer every time Scout sneezed. Worse, Scout might pick up on her anxiety and become scared himself.

  They met Finn in front of the Palace Movie Theater at quarter to two.

  It worried Willa, the way her pulse raced at the sight of him. But she couldn’t help it. He cut a fine figure in his jeans and dark pea coat, a tartan scarf twisted casually around his neck. And his smile seemed so genuine, as if he truly was excited to see them, too.

  When they were about forty feet apart, Finn lobbed a snowball that flew just over their heads, then splatted on the door to the antique shop behind them.

  Scout took up the challenge, grabbed a handful of snow and retaliated. Finn caught the projectile and grinned. “You’ve got a good arm.”

  Scout looked pleased, then suddenly turned shy, ducking his head and moving close to Willa.

  She thought she knew why. Putting her hands on Scout’s shoulders she crouched to his level. “Are you embarrassed because he heard you say you had cancer?”

  After a moment, Scout nodded.

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of son. You were so strong and brave during all your treatments. I was so proud of you, and I still am.”

  Finn caught up to them then, and from his expression Willa could tell he’d overheard her.

  “I agree with your mom, Scout. You’re a brave boy. Maybe one day my writing partner and I will put out a book called Everyday Sam Beats Cancer. I bet lots of kids would like to read a story like that.”

  Scout shrugged. “Most kids don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Mom says it makes them scared. It used to make me scared, too.”

  “Scout didn’t want anyone on this holiday to know that he’d had leukemia. He’s tired of friends and family treating him like he’s...fragile.” Even worse, a lot of people, even adults, had acted as if his ALL was contagious. Willa often wondered if they had any idea that their avoidance felt like rejection.

  “I just want to be a normal kid.”

  “I can understand that.” Finn squeezed his shoulder. “But the way I see it, you’re better than normal Scout. Just saying.”

  “Cause I get to be in an Everyday Sam book?”

  “For that reason and a lot more, too.”

  Scout’s grin marked the first time he’d seemed genuinely happy all day. Willa felt incredibly grateful to Finn for handling the situation so well.

  “Now are we still okay to watch the movie?” Finn asked. “Or would you rather continue on with the snowball fi
ght?”

  “Snowball fight!”

  “Movie,” Willa countermanded, shaking her head at Finn for opening that door.

  “Movie it is, but don’t worry Scout. We’ll have the snowball fight later.”

  “Awesome!”

  Finn had already purchased their tickets, and when he heard about the promised popcorn and soda, he insisted on paying for that, as well as another popcorn and water for Willa.

  They sat with Finn in the middle, and as the credits rolled, Willa felt a pang of nostalgia, remembering the times she’d watched the movie with her family, back when she was a child.

  She sensed Finn’s eyes on her, and when she turned to look over her son’s head she saw that she was right.

  “When’s the last time you saw this?” he asked.

  “I guess when I was fourteen. Maybe fifteen.”

  His eyebrows went up. “I watch it every year.”

  “Seriously?”

  He nodded. “I’m sentimental. It’s one of my many character flaws.”

  She laughed and shook her head at him. “Some flaw.”

  For the first while, Scout was absorbed with his popcorn and drink. Willa couldn’t tell how much of the story he was absorbing, but when the second bell chimed and her son whispered, “That means there’s a new angel, right Mom?” she knew he was taking in some of it, at least.

  Forty minutes into the show, Scout needed to use the restroom.

  “I’ll take him,” Finn offered.

  When she tried to protest, he put a hand on her shoulder. “I know the script by heart. You stay and enjoy.”

  Willa was only too happy to sink back into her seat and do as ordered. Almost an hour later, she was still riveted when she felt Scout’s head sag against her arm. He’d fallen asleep.

  “It’s a long movie for a little guy,” Finn noted quietly.

  Willa nodded, unable to speak because of the lump in her throat. George was having his crisis of faith on the bridge, and his guardian angel was trying to save him.

  Finn knew every camera angle in the movie, every line of dialogue. So it was much more interesting to watch Willa than the screen. She was totally engrossed in the story, and as she connected with the characters on the screen, he could feel himself connecting with her.