“How hard is it to keep a fish alive?”
He chuckled, the sound without humor. “About as hard as real life, apparently.” He paused in front of a large cage containing a white, fluffy kitten. He stroked the cat through the bars. “You’re a pretty one,” he murmured to the purring fur ball.
Noelle’s heart warmed at the kindness in his voice. “She’s from the ASPCA, and available for a small adoption fee.”
“It’s not the fee. I can’t keep fish alive. My chances with a cat are well below zero, at this point. Grace has been asking for a kitten though. I think she has this particular one in mind.”
“Make it a Christmas gift for her.”
He winced. “Could I just get the goldfish, please? I’m hoping to get to the toy store before—” He glanced at his watch. His faint frown twisted into a grimace. “Never mind.” His lips moved, shaping silent curse words.
“Connor?”
“Just the fish. I need to get home. I promised the babysitter I’d be home by six.”
Noelle scooped out three fish into a plastic bag, filled it with air, and sealed it. “Here. A Christmas present, from the Langfords.”
“Thank you.” The sudden smile that flashed across his face was filled with warmth and humor. For a moment, Noelle didn’t see the professional demeanor of a skilled doctor or the distracted expression of an exhausted father. She saw a man—a good-looking man, with compassion and empathy in his eyes.
The moment vanished, though, and once again, she saw the frustration of a man pulled in too many directions. Not my circus. Not my monkeys.
Unfortunately, the quiet pain and heartache in his eyes resonated a matching ache within her.
He was almost out the door when she called out impulsively. “What’s wrong, Connor?”
He shook his head. “I have to get home.”
“I’ll walk with you.” She shot a quick text to her sister, grabbed her handbag, turned off the lights, and followed him from the store. He waited until she locked the door before setting a brisk pace toward their neighborhood. “So, what’s this that Dad said about a PTA surgery?”
“A PTCA. Percutaneous transluminal coronary angioplasty. Your father had a minor heart attack with little damage to his heart muscles, but I’m recommending he talk to a cardiologist about a PTCA. It’s the most direct method of opening a blocked coronary artery and possibly his best chance of avoiding another heart attack.”
“Dad hates hospitals. He hates surgeries.”
“I know.”
“Can you do this? He probably would agree if you could do it for him.”
“I’m a general physician. He needs a trained surgeon for this.” Connor glanced at her. “Will you and Holly talk him into it?”
Noelle’s mouth tugged into a wry half-smile. “You should know by now it’s impossible to talk my dad into anything. We’ll talk to him, but can’t promise the outcome.”
Connor nodded and lapsed into silence.
“Why were you trying to get out to the toy store?” Noelle asked.
“Buy gifts for the girls.”
“Wow, you really do last-minute shopping.”
“The gifts were shipped to Orlando, since I thought we were going to be spending Christmas there. Now, the gifts are there, and we are here. The girls will get the gifts eventually, but I wanted to give them something to open on Christmas.”
“So, what happened?”
“I got the Christmas tree over my lunch break, but it took longer than I expected. The clinic got busy in the afternoon, and I couldn’t break away. Now I have to get home, and I don’t have any more babysitter coverage, not for the whole week, not until the new year. I didn’t think I would need it.
Noelle frowned. “So, no gifts…?”
Connor sighed.
She caught at his arm to make him stop walking. “Really, Connor? No gifts at Christmas?”
He ground his teeth. “I’m not doing this deliberately. I’m not the Grinch you think I am, but sometimes, it doesn’t even seem to matter what I do.”
“Look, I’ll stay with your children while you run out for gifts.”
He stared at her.
Why did the surprise in his eyes make her hurt even more for him? She compensated by keeping her voice brisk. “Come on. You’re wasting time. Let’s get home. You can introduce me to Grace and Hope, get me situated on what to do for them, and you can make it to the stores before they close.”
An explosion of sound and movement greeted her the moment they stepped into Connor’s home. The babysitter, a local high school senior, scurried out the door almost immediately, leaving the children with Connor and Noelle.
Grace glowered at her father. “Who’s she?”
Noelle knelt to smile at Grace. “I’m Noelle.”
“That’s a silly name.”
“It’s a Christmas-y name.” She looked around. “I see you’ve begun decorating for Christmas.”
Grace turned to look into the living room. “It’s just a Christmas tree. It doesn’t even have lights.”
“Well, decorating the tree would be our job, wouldn’t it? And who is this?” Noelle smiled down at the toddler, who peered out at her from between Connor’s legs.
“That’s my sister, Hope,” Grace said. “She’s just a baby.”
Hope gave Noelle a toothy grin and babbled a greeting.
Noelle held out her arms, and Hope tottered forward into her open arms. She settled Hope on one arm and pushed to her feet. Oh, Hope was a delicious, sweet-smelling armful. The toddler wrapped an arm around Noelle’s neck, apparently contented to survey the world from her new perch. Noelle tilted her head and smiled at Grace. “Well, shall we get started on the tree?”
“I don’t want to decorate the stupid tree.”
He winced.
Noelle shrugged, not in the least bit fazed by Connor’s belligerent daughter. “Why don’t you get dinner on the table while Grace and I work on Christmas decorations?”
With Hope on one arm, Noelle searched through the boxes and concluded that the decorations were grossly age-inappropriate for a toddler. She glanced at Grace. “I don’t think these will work.”
Grace peered into the boxes. “She’s gonna break them.”
“Just what I was thinking. What should we do?”
Grace’s frown wasn’t mutinous, but thoughtful.
“We’ll need decorations that won’t break,” Noelle said.
The girl brightened. “I know.” She dashed out of the living room, raced up the stairs, and returned a minute later with an armful of soft toys.
“Wow.” Noelle smiled. “What a brilliant idea.”
“The toy won’t break even if Hope pulls it down.”
“Sounds perfect,” Noelle said.
Grace stared at her little sister as Hope cooed and reached for the nearest soft toy. “Maybe she could help.”
“I’m sure she’d love to. Come on, let’s get started. This is a huge tree.”
Grace giggled. “I’ll get more toys.”
The lower boughs of the tree were haphazardly decorated when Connor looked in on them twenty minutes later. He stood at the doorway, watching in absolute silence for several minutes, before clearing his throat. “Dinner’s on the table.”
Grace stiffened. “I don’t want the yucky food.”
“Noelle brought it over. Can you try it, at least?”
Noelle stood and held her hand out to Grace. “I hate yucky food, too, but this one is yummy, I promise.”
The look Grace shot her father was distrustful, but she slipped her hand into Noelle’s and followed her to the dining room. Connor had reheated some of the food Noelle had brought the previous day and set the table for three.
“Do you need to go?” Noelle asked him.
“I’ll have time after dinner. Meal times feel like a two-person job.”
Which he had been doing alone for a year, Noelle thought with new respect for his endurance and patience. She sat next to
Grace and scooped out a portion of lasagna and green beans into her plate.
Grace stared skeptically at her dinner.
“If you keep that up, Hope will grow taller than you,” Noelle said casually.
Grace’s gaze snapped up to Noelle. “No, she won’t.”
“Check it out.” Noelle pointed at Hope. The little toddler had scrunched up her face at the first taste of pasta Connor fed her, but had opened her mouth eagerly for the second bite, and the third.
Noelle shrugged. “You better eat if you want to hold on to your head start.”
Grace lowered her head to be on eye-level with her lasagna slice and stuck out her tongue to lick the sauce.
Noelle pressed her lips together to stifle the chuckle and exchanged a glance with Connor.
His smile, as he looked at Grace, was affectionate, but Noelle could see weariness in the slump of his shoulders and fatigue in the dark shadows under his eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked.
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the break. I’ve got all of next week off.”
“Does that mean you’ll be able to sleep in?”
“With Hope? Not a chance. She’s usually does a long stretch of sleep in the first half of the night, but all bets are off after 2 a.m. Still, I’ll be able to nap when the children do.”
“You look like you need it.”
“Yeah, I do.” Connor ate and fed Hope until she pushed the spoon away. He handed her a piece of toast, and she cooed, apparently delighted at the item that was as much a toy as it was food. He glanced at his watch. “I should get going.”
Noelle nodded.
“Hope’s formula is on the kitchen counter. She’ll want a bottle before bed—”
“I got it. As long as the instructions are in English, Spanish, or a language translatable by my iPhone app, I’m all good.”
“Okay. Bye, Hope. Bye, Grace. I’ll be home soon.”
Hope giggled. Grace scowled.
Noelle walked Connor to the door. She kept her voice low. “You’ve got a tough situation, but you’re handling it well.”
Connor sighed. “Someone had to be the adult. I didn’t volunteer, but I was the oldest by a long shot, so I guess I was nominated by default.” He smiled. “Thanks for staying with them. I appreciate it.”
Noelle watched him drive off before she closed the door and returned to the table. Hope’s delighted face was a smear of breadcrumbs. As Noelle watched, the sulky expression on Grace’s face faded. The girl picked up her fork and ate the lasagna as if she were starving.
“Is that food any good?” Noelle asked drily.
“It’s quite yummy,” Grace conceded, her voice absent of rancor.
“You know, your dad would feel better if you told him that.”
Grace’s lips shaped a pout. “I don’t want to.”
“Why?”
“I hate him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s mean. He hates Christmas.”
“Really?”
Grace nodded. “All my friends’ houses are pretty. Mine is ugly. He didn’t put the lights up.”
“I see.”
“And he said he was going to take me to Disney World.”
“Right, but you see, Grace, that was my fault.”
Grace’s eyes widened. “What?”
“My daddy got very sick, and your dad had to stay back to take care of him.”
Her mouth shaped an O. “Did your daddy die?” Her voice was quiet, her eyes large, even terrified.
“No, he didn’t. Your daddy saved him in time.”
Grace blinked. On her mobile features, fear gave way to sadness. “My daddy couldn’t save my mommy.”
“I know, honey.”
“She died.”
Noelle nodded, her heart aching at Grace’s matter-of-fact tone. “Do you miss her?”
Grace nodded. She swallowed hard. “I want a kitten.”
Noelle didn’t balk at the change of topic. “What kind of kitten?”
“A white kitten, but Daddy won’t give me a kitten.”
Noelle censored mentions of dying goldfish. “Kittens are lots of work, honey. Your daddy is already very busy taking care of you and Hope.”
“All he does is come home and give us dinner and put us to bed,” Grace complained. “Sometimes, he doesn’t even come back until I’m sleeping.”
Because he’s in the hospital late into the night, deciding on the best level of care for an irascible old man who’s just had a heart attack. She reached out and stroked Grace’s hair.
The child quivered beneath Noelle’s gentle touch. She stared at her half-eaten lasagna. “I know Daddy doesn’t like me.”
Noelle gaped at Grace.
Two fat tears rolled down Grace’s face and plopped onto her plate. “He says I look like Mommy.”
“You do. And so does Hope. And I know he loves the both of you very much.”
“He won’t give me a kitten.” Grace’s lips twisted into a scowl. “I hate him.” Her words were filled with pain instead of venom.
Noelle pressed her lips together. “Why don’t you finish up your lasagna, and then we’ll work on the tree again. Wouldn’t it be an awesome surprise for your daddy if we finished decorating the tree before he got back?”
Chapter 5
Thank God the department stores did not close early on Christmas Eve. Connor managed to purchase toys, stocking stuffers, and clothes for Grace and Hope. He was walking toward the checkout line when he passed the women’s department.
Noelle.
His steps faltered. The memory, forever frozen into a perfect image, made his breath catch. Noelle stood in his living room, cuddling Hope, while Grace, with a delighted smile on her face, placed soft toys on the lower branches of the Christmas tree.
For a moment, he had the crazy illusion of a completed family. Three golden heads of hair. Three beautiful, happy faces. Three sets of flashing smiles. He had to remind himself that he was looking at Noelle, not Millie, but for an instant, it hadn’t mattered. For that single, priceless moment, he hadn’t felt a broken piece of a whole.
What could he get for Noelle for Christmas?
Some part of his mind shrieked at him—why was he buying gifts for a woman he hardly knew?—but mental and physical fatigue kept him from digging too deep. He stopped at the jewelry counter and surveyed the mind-boggling selection of earrings, bracelets, necklaces, and rings. The saleswoman smiled at him. “Can I show you anything today?”
“I need a gift for a friend.”
“How special of a friend?”
“I don’t know.”
“How special do you want her to be?”
He turned the question over in his head. His mind was too fuzzy to deliver clear answers, too drained by weariness to sort through the turmoil in his heart. “I don’t know yet.”
The woman smiled. “I’d recommend earrings or a bracelet. Do you know if she has pierced ears?”
Was he supposed to notice things like that? “I don’t know.”
“Most women do, but a bracelet would be safer.” She walked him over to the right section. “What’s her favorite color?”
“I don’t know.” He was starting to feel like an idiot—an unobservant idiot.
“What’s her coloring?”
“Blond. Blue eyes.”
The woman picked out three bracelets. “Any of these will complement her fair coloring.”
Connor’s eyes stung from lack of sleep, and he blinked in a slow and deliberate motion to moisten them. His head felt like it was packed in wool. Damn, but he was tired. “This one, to match her eyes.”
“Wonderful. Would you like it wrapped?”
“Yes, please.”
Only when he got back to his car did he realize he had paid for Noelle’s bracelet with his credit card without actually taking note of how much it cost. He turned the key in the ignition and pulled his car out of the parking lot. Exhaustion crashed over him like a wave; perha
ps he should have taken the time to stop for an espresso.
No matter, he supposed. He was just fifteen minutes from home. He would be there soon enough.
His car raced down the highway, swallowing the miles. The glare of the streetlights blurred the white lines of the road into hypnotic patterns. The purr of the engine blended into a soothing white noise, and the headlights of on-coming vehicles danced across his field of vision like brightly glowing balls.
His mind drifted, and for a single second, his eyes closed.
Chapter 6
Noelle glanced at her watch. 11 p.m. Where was he? The stores had closed an hour earlier, and even if he had stayed until closing, he should have been home within fifteen minutes; Havre de Grace was not a large town.
Frowning, she stretched out on the couch and stared into the crackling flames. An urgent text to her sister earlier that evening had brought Holly scurrying over with a bale of firewood, chocolate, marshmallows, and graham crackers. While Hope dozed on a cushion, Grace and Noelle made s’mores and picnicked in front of the fireplace.
The children were both finally in bed, though, and Noelle enjoyed the quiet of Connor’s home over a cup of chamomile tea. Her gaze fell frequently on the photograph on the mantle place. They had been a beautiful family. Everywhere she looked, she saw evidence of Millie’s artistic hand. Knitted throws in relaxing pastel colors draped over large armchairs. Watercolors of fairies, obviously painted to delight children, filled the house with whimsical charm.
A dull ache throbbed in Noelle’s chest. Millie had infused her home with love and beauty, and she was gone, leaving behind a grieving widower and two motherless children. How difficult it must have been for Connor—
Noelle’s cell phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Connor.”
“Where are you?”
“At the ER.”
Noelle frowned. “Did you get called in?”
“No, I…I was in an accident.”
“What?” She sat upright. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, mostly. The car went into a ditch. I strained my back, and I’ll probably have a couple of bruises tomorrow, but I’m all right.”
Graced: A Love Letters Novel Page 3
