A Magical Christmas

by Patricia Thayer

  “My arms ached. My back throbbed. I was exhausted. No matter how long I walked, no matter how I held him, sang to him, kissed him, he kept crying. Then finally the crying stopped. Justin had calmed down and gone to sleep in my arms. I didn’t know what to do. If I moved he might start up again.”

  She spoke as if reliving the moment—locked in another time and place. Phil knew she couldn’t have killed her baby. He knew there was a logical explanation, one she couldn’t accept.

  “If I put him in his crib I knew for certain he’d wake up. I eased onto the couch and he kept sleeping on my chest. So peaceful. So beautiful. For the first time in hours I found comfort. Comfort in the feel of my precious baby in my arms, and comfort for my aching back, my burning, sleepy eyes. I laid my head against the cushions and my son’s gentle breathing lulled me to sleep.”

  A feral flash in her eyes alerted him that the hysteria was back. “I fell asleep!” she said, pain contorting her face. She continued her story as if he wasn’t there. “I fell asleep,” she sobbed. “And the next thing I knew…Oh, God, my baby!”

  She dissolved into tears, crumpled to the bench. Phil rushed to lift her, to hold her up, to embrace her. After she settled down a bit he cupped her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me everything.”

  She hiccuped another sob. “Justin fell off my chest, he fell off the couch, and…” She cried so hard she heaved, fluids pouring from every orifice on her face. She wiped her eyes with her palms, even as she cried more. “He hit his head on the table…”

  Phil had never heard a woman cry like this in his life. He’d never seen such primal torture. He’d never imagined the depth of pain ripping at her.

  “It damaged his brain.” Then, as if finally giving in to the nightmare, her shoulders slumped in total defeat. “He died the next day.”

  Phil held her so tight he worried she might not be able to breathe, but she held him back, all trembles and shivers. “I never got to say goodbye, Phil,” she whimpered, collapsing against his chest.

  “Baby. Oh, honey. No. No, it wasn’t your fault. Who let you believe it was your fault?” He pulled back to look at her. She avoided his eyes. “You weren’t a single mother. Your man should have helped. You shouldn’t have had to do it all yourself. Don’t you see, he should have been there for you.” Feeling anger at the bastard who’d let her down, Phil kissed her cheek.

  They held each other tight for several minutes. What the hell should he do now? A maelstrom of emotions, fears, and doubts knocked him off balance. He could only imagine how Stephanie felt. She thought she’d killed her baby, didn’t deserve to ever be a mother again, had had her tubes tied to make sure she never would be, and still wound up pregnant.

  And he was the father.

  He didn’t know what else to do, so he put his sopping wet jacket over their heads, and escorted Stephanie back to the clinic. When they got close, he flipped open his cell phone and called Jason as he steered Stephanie away from the clinic and toward his car.

  “Jase, I’m taking Stephanie home. She’s not feeling well.”

  Phil undressed Stephanie. She’d slipped into a stupor, trembling from the cold. He was in near shock, too, but one of them needed to function. He turned on the shower and waited for it to heat up then thrust her inside. She gasped, but didn’t fight him.

  He ripped off his wet and gritty clothes and climbed in with her, easing her head under the water, making sure her body warmed up.

  “Come on, honey, turn around. Let the water hit your back.” The steamy shower felt good. He dipped his head under the stream and shook it.

  What in the hell were they supposed to do now?

  Sherwood and Daisy came sniffing around the bathroom, obviously aware that something wasn’t right.

  With Stephanie still out of it, Phil tried to gather his thoughts. He’d never been in this position before. He watched her through the water. She stared blankly at the tile. His heart ached for her. He could only imagine the torture she’d lived through, the guilt, the self-hatred, and now her hibernating nightmare had been reawakened.

  He washed her hair and lathered his own. The excess sand and mud gathered around the drain.

  “Are you warmer now?”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Let’s get you dried off then I’ll put you to bed.”

  Her worst fear may have materialized, except there was one thing different this time around.

  He was the father.

  Chapter Ten

  PHIL bundled a second blanket over Stephanie, but she still trembled. He made a snap decision to share his body warmth, and climbed under the covers then spooned up against her. She snuggled into his hold. Heavy rain sounded like Ping-Pong balls on the roof, and crackles of thunder in the distance made the cuddling even more intimate.

  After the shower, he’d blow-dried and brushed her hair, and now it splayed across the pillow, tickling his face. It seemed odd to smell his standard guy shampoo in her hair instead of the usual flowers-and-dew-scent shampoo she used. Up on one elbow, he pushed the waves away from her shoulder and dropped a kiss on her neck.

  “We’ll get through this, Steph,” he whispered.

  They’d leaped a thousand steps ahead in their relationship with today’s news. What should they do? He’d just finished a crash course on parenting with Robbie and had barely made the grade, but this was different. They’d made a baby. Together. Was he ready for this?

  And what about Stephanie? The last thing in the world she wanted was a child. He’d never been in this position before. One thing was certain; he didn’t want to run away from the challenge. A part of him was excited about being a father.

  A swell of tender feelings made Phil pull her closer. He pressed another kiss to that special spot on her shoulder.

  Stephanie needed oblivion. She needed to find one tiny corner of her mind and hide there. She didn’t want to think. Couldn’t bear the truth.

  A vague memory of Phil bathing and drying her then brushing her hair filled her heart with gratitude. Even in her haze, she could sense the delicate way he’d treated her. Now his warm hands surrounded her and pulled her close. His breath caressed her neck. He kissed her…there. Chills fanned across her breasts and she suddenly knew how to keep from thinking about anything but Phil.

  She turned into his arms and eager mouth. His kiss was different. The passion was still there, but this one felt warmer than all the others had. Phil handled her gently, lovingly, taking their kisses slowly, yet building each on the next until she longed for more of him. She needed his hands touching her everywhere, and guided one to her breast. He didn’t require schooling on the rest. She cupped his head at her chest as he kissed and taunted her. Desire burrowed through her, down to her belly.

  As his arms explored and caressed every part of her, her legs entwined with his locking him tight. With his passion obvious, she moved against him, placing him at her entrance. His hand moved between them, touching and teasing her, making her squirm for more. She needed to forget everything, and Phil’s deep kisses and sex would soothe all the aching in her soul.

  His tongue delved into her mouth as he simultaneously entered her with a slow, determined thrust. She gasped as she stretched and gloved him. He kissed her harder and quickened his rhythm, the building heat pulsing through her center. Her inner muscles throbbed as he edged farther inside. His breathing went rough and ragged and he cupped and tilted her hips for deeper access. She gulped for air and ground against his powerful penetration, her muscles and nerves winding tighter and tighter with every lunge.

  He held her at the peak of pleasure with the steady pace, and she thrived on every sensation swirling through her body. She never wanted the exquisite feeling to end and, languishing there with her, it seemed his only desire was to please her. Feeding on the suspended moments of bliss, her hunger grew. He’d made her frantic and dependent on him to take her all the way. As if reading her thoughts, he doubled his rhythm, pu
shing and nudging her to the brink, holding her there until she begged for release and he erupted.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as she quivered and gave in to the pulsations pounding through her body, floating her outside of time and mind and, like a heavy sedative, numbing her to harsh reality.

  Phil had taken her there—to oblivion.

  Stephanie cracked open an eye. The room was still dark. She’d been sleeping, one glance at the bedside clock told her, for hours. Phil breathed peacefully beside her, his warmth like a snug cocoon. Sherwood had curled into a ball at the foot of the bed, and Daisy sprawled out on a nearby rug.

  The snapshot of domestic tranquility shocked her back into the moment.

  An odd fragment of thought repeated itself in her mind. Who let you believe it was your fault? You weren’t a single mother. Your man should have helped. You shouldn’t have had to do it all yourself. Don’t you see, he should have been there for you.

  She blinked and sat up as the course of the afternoon came roaring back through her mind. Phil rustled and turned. She studied him. Had he said those words merely to console her or did he really believe them?

  Was a guy like Phil capable of committing to one woman? Would it matter if he could? She shook her head—she couldn’t handle this pregnancy. She never deserved to be a mother again.

  She lay back on the pillow and stared through the shadows at the ceiling, desperately in need of sorting through her problems.

  She studied Phil’s mop of dark blond hair, his straight and strong profile. She ran her finger along the length of his red-tinged sideburn. In other circumstances, she could see herself waking up next to a guy like Phil for the rest of her life. If things were different.

  It was a fool’s dream.

  You don’t deserve to be happy. You’re a murderer.

  Out of reflex, she curled into a ball and covered her eyes. The negative thoughts her husband had charged her with day after day until they’d divorced became so strong she couldn’t ward them off. A queasy feeling took hold in her stomach, and self-hatred pulled her deeper inward. She definitely couldn’t keep the baby.

  “Are you all right?” Phil took her by the shoulders and shook her. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you having a nightmare?” He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.

  “Yes,” was all she could whisper. “A nightmare.”

  “Come here,” he said, rubbing her back and kissing her again.

  He wanted to protect her. Had her ex-husband ever offered to protect her at the worst moment of her life? No. He’d blamed her. He’d called her out as the monster she was.

  What kind of person would do that? he’d accused.

  Along with the vivid memory, Stephanie whimpered, and Phil drew her closer to him. His warm chest and strong arms gave little solace. She didn’t deserve solace.

  “Let me take care of you,” he said. ‘I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

  What happened to two weeks of good times? No strings attached? Now, only because she was pregnant, he wanted to take care of her? If she weren’t pregnant, would he still want her? Could she trust a man like Phil to be there if she needed him?

  He was practically a stranger, and she needed to think things through.

  Confused and unable to respond to his caring words, she bolted from the bed.

  He looked like a man about out of patience.

  “Phil…” She paced the length of the rug. “This wasn’t supposed to happen with us.”

  “You’re right. But it did, and now we have to figure out what to do.”

  Why did he sound so reasonable?

  The jumble of feelings and fears caused that queasy sensation to double into a fist of nausea. Before she could think another thought, she sprinted for the bathroom.

  Phil sat outside the washroom door, listening to Stephanie heave as if exorcising a demon. He scrubbed his face. What in hell was he supposed to do now? Was he anywhere near ready to be a father? At the moment it seemed the bigger problem was that Stephanie felt determined not to be a mother again.

  What kind of mind game had her ex-husband played on her to make her feel so unworthy of a second chance?

  Behind the door, the toilet flushed and the faucet was turned on. For Stephanie’s fragile sake, no matter how much he wanted to, he wouldn’t dare broach the subject that they were having a baby until she brought it up.

  Maybe he could distract her. Why not pretend things were the same as they were two days ago? What normal activity would they have done this weekend before everything had changed?

  “I was thinking that maybe today we could shop for a Christmas tree,” he called through the door, feeling completely at a loss for what to say or do. All he knew was that he wanted to make things easier for her. Maybe he could distract her with something fun and frivolous like buying a Christmas tree. It was the season.

  She didn’t answer.

  Lame idea. Okay, he’d think of something else. He’d help her get through the shock of it by keeping her busy, and maybe in the process he’d manage to work out his own feelings. “Or we could take the dogs to the beach.”

  Still no answer.

  A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom fully dressed.

  He went on alert.

  “I’m going away,” she said. “I need to be alone.”

  He jumped to his feet. “What? Don’t I figure into this?”

  With eyes as flat as stone, she looked at him. “Ultimately, it all comes down to me and what I decide to do.”

  He words were like a slap to the face. Just like that, she’d shut him out. He needed to buy time, to keep her there. “At least let me fix you something to eat.”

  “I don’t want anything.”

  “You can’t just think about yourself anymore.” Ah, damn, that had been the wrong thing to say. Why was he such an idiot?

  She gave him a measured look. He wished he could see inside her mind, to figure out what was going on. He was at a loss and she wasn’t having a thing to do with his fumbling attempts to keep her there.

  Stunned silent, he watched her gather up her purse and leave.

  Phil couldn’t stand staying in his house alone, so he herded the dogs into his Woodie and drove to the beach. Sherwood stayed close to his side as Daisy romped through the waves, chasing the Frisbee he threw again and again.

  Never in his life had he been more confused about a woman. He’d covered for his true feelings when he’d insisted they carpool to work together. He hadn’t wanted to scare her off by asking her to move in with him for the rest of her time in Santa Barbara, though that was exactly what he’d wanted. Hell, these new feelings scared him enough for both of them. The problem was, for the first time in his adult life he was open to exploring where this “thing” between him and Stephanie might lead. And she’d have nothing to do with him.

  He’d never cherished a woman in his life, yet last night, after she’d told him her darkest secret and they’d made love, he’d felt the subtle shift of his heart. She’d transformed from hot girlfriend to the woman he loved…and she was carrying their child. Had he just admitted he loved her?

  He swallowed, wanting nothing more than to prove he could be the kind of man she deserved. A man who believed in her, who’d never let her down. Was he capable of such a thing?

  He’d learned an important fact about himself when Robbie had been thrust on him. When he set his mind to something, he could do it. No matter how foreign or hard, he could make it work. He and his little brother were closer than ever before, and Phil was quite sure he could do even better by his own kid. The thought excited him, and he wanted to make things work out with Stephanie. He’d never wanted anything so much in his life.

  Yet, just like his mother, when life had gotten tough, she’d split.

  Daisy scampered toward him, soaking wet, and dropped the slobbery Frisbee at his feet. Deep in thought, he hardly noticed he’d thrown the toy back to sea. Sherwood snuggled on his lap.
Without thinking, he rubbed the dog’s ears.

  “Don’t worry, boy, she’ll be back for you. I’m the one she left.”

  Phil couldn’t sleep all weekend. He felt like hell on Monday, and with a million lectures planned for Stephanie, he was surprised to find out she’d called in sick. As hard as it was, he’d given her the weekend to sort things through, but she still wasn’t ready to face him. Or their baby.

  Frustrated, he scraped the stubble on his jaw. Damn, he’d forgotten to shave, but it didn’t matter. He was far more concerned whether Stephanie had made a rash decision or not. Damn it, he deserved to be in on any decisions she made about their baby, but she wouldn’t answer her phone. He’d called by the extended-stay hotel, only to be told she’d checked out.

  He dialed her cell number again and it went directly to messages, then he shoved it back into his pocket. Gaby give him a strange look.

  “What?” he said.

  “Nothing.” She went back to her task as if it was the most important thing on the planet.

  Jason buzzed him on the intercom. “Hey, just wanted to tell you that Claire is going to pick up as many of Stephanie’s patients as she can. I’ll see a few myself.”

  “I’m a pulmonologist.” Phil censured the expletive he wanted to utter. “I don’t know squat about gynecology. Can’t help.” He clicked off without giving Jason a chance to respond.

  Stephanie cried about everything. What to eat. What to wear. Whether to get out of bed. Whether to run away to the desert. Every single thing about life set her off.

  She’d changed hotels, and gave strict instructions that no one was to know which room she was in. Yet deep inside she wished Phil would find her. And that made her cry, too.

  With each passing day, she grew more aware of the life forming inside her, and with that knowledge she forged a private bond with the baby. The thought of giving it up…made her cry.