by Olivia Miles
He held his mother’s eyes, unwavering in their hold on him. He couldn’t lie to her if he tried, and he didn’t really want to. He and his mother had always been close. As the only son, he’d always held a special place with her, especially after his father’s life was cut so short. He’d stopped being her little boy a long time ago, instead taking on the role of helping out and doing his best to take care of his mother and two younger sisters. His father had left his wife and three children with financial security for life, but Luke knew how much his mother depended on him. And he her, if he was honest.
Now, at thirty, he had to admit that he was still the child, and she was still the parent, no matter how much he prided himself on being the surrogate head of the family.
“Grace Madison is here, if you must know,” he said, giving his mother a grim smile, trying his best to show that he didn’t care, that it didn’t affect him. The soft look that fell over her eyes told him she knew otherwise.
“I saw her,” she said, reaching out to pat his arm. “I made a point of it.”
“Mother,” he warned.
“What?” she cried. “Can you blame me? I heard that girl was coming back to town and I wanted to take a good look.”
He glanced at her sidelong, frowning. “Didn’t you see her at the funeral?”
“Oh, well, that was different,” she tutted. “I didn’t want to make a point of staring at such a somber event.”
“Now you can?”
She shrugged. “What can I say? The gloves are off!” Her lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Settle down, Luke. You know how much I always loved Grace.”
Luke paused. “I know.”
Rosemary shifted her eyes in the direction where he knew Grace and her family to be and then ushered him over to the edge of the room. From a three-tiered silver tray she plucked a sugar cookie shaped like a candy cane. She nibbled it, smiling at what she experienced, and then helped herself to another. “They put cream cheese in the dough,” she said with a wink. She took a third. “Nice touch.”
Despite his mood, Luke chuckled. “And to think you maintain a dancer’s figure,” he mused.
His mother raised her eyebrows in mock indignation. “For your information, I don’t only teach eight classes a day. I also demonstrate. It’s tough work for a lady of my age.”
Luke smiled, shaking his head. He could banter with her all night about her poor eating habits, but he had other things on his mind. “So did she say anything to you?” he asked. His voice sounded strained, and he cleared his throat. He couldn’t look his mother in the eye as he waited for her reply.
“No,” she said lightly. “She was sitting a few rows in front of me. Poor thing looked downright terrified when she saw me, though. I could see the whites all around her eyes!”
Luke’s gaze returned to his mother, who was feasting on another cookie. “Well, you can be a very intimidating woman, you know.”
“Nonsense. Only in my studio. Besides, Grace knows I’ve always had a fondness for her. There was a time when I thought she would become my daughter in-law, after all.”
She paused, alarm sweeping her face, as her eyes flashed on his. “I’m sorry, Luke. I—I don’t know what I was saying. It’s the cookies… the sugar. It’s messing with my head.”
“It’s fine,” he said gruffly
She shook her head, frowning. “No, it’s not. This is a difficult time for you. For all of us. We loved Helen.”
Luke nodded. “I know.”
They lapsed into silence, standing side by side, staring at the clusters of parents and children, listening to the happy din over the jingle of the music. It all felt like a slap in the face, like some callous reminder of what everyone else had and he didn’t. What he had lost. It was hard enough losing Helen, reliving that experience every year at this time, but it was also becoming increasingly difficult to think of everything that went with her—children, family, generations, shared experiences.
Although, maybe all of those things were gone before she died. And maybe that was why he was having such a hard time living with himself.
“I should go say hello to her,” Rosemary offered, and Luke forced his attention back to the present. Back to Grace. It always came back to Grace.
“Have you spoken to Kathleen Madison recently?” he asked. The two women had always been friendly, even after their children had gone their separate ways. It was through his mother that Luke gleaned most of his insight into the Madisons’ lives these days, but Rosemary also knew to keep a distance. She only discussed Grace’s family when he asked. He tried not to, even when he wanted to.
His mother shook her head, her brow furrowing in concern. “No, I haven’t. I’ve tried calling a few times but she hasn’t seemed up for socializing. Betty next door told me that Kathleen wasn’t going to judge the Holiday House contest this year.” She gave a sad sigh. “It won’t be the same without her.”
“Their house isn’t even decorated,” he added.
His mother’s eyes widened. A natural reaction, Luke determined, given that Kathleen was famous for her Christmas decorations, but she surprised him by saying, “When did you go by their house?”
Crap. Luke rubbed the stubble on his chin and thrust his hands in his pockets. “I drove Grace home the other night. She needed a ride.” He looked around the room, uncomfortably aware of his mother’s watchful stare. There was a heavy pause.
“I see,” she said pointedly.
He loosened his shoulders. “It wasn’t like that,” he insisted. The twitch in her lips sent a flicker of impatience through him. “She needed a ride, Mom. That’s all. Her car broke down.”
He didn’t appreciate the way his mother cocked an eyebrow suggestively. “If you say so,” she said.
“Mother,” he muttered. He reached for a cookie and ate it quickly. “It’s not like that with us. I moved on; Grace has moved on. Besides, she isn’t even in town for long.”
“And if she were?”
If, if, if. There were always so many ifs when it came to Grace. He looked his mother square in the eye. “It wouldn’t make a lick of difference.”
“Well,” said Rosemary, “I should go see Jane. I have something I’ve been meaning to discuss with her, and now is the perfect opportunity.”
Luke nodded, relieved to be set free of the conversation, and walked over to the drinks table to refill his cup.
“Hey there.” The voice in his ear made him jump, almost spilling his eggnog, and he turned around, his eyes locking on Grace’s alarmed gaze.
“Sorry,” she said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.” It wasn’t like him to be so jumpy, but knowing Grace was nearby had unnerved him, left him feeling shifty and agitated. Her mere presence brought back every kiss they’d ever shared, every laugh and every smile, even every tear. He didn’t want to go there or think about the past. He’d made his decision, he’d lived with it. It was too easy to slip back into what they once had, and he couldn’t do that. Not now. Not ever.
His eyes shifted to the door. He’d hoped to dodge her, slip out of the party without any further exchange, but now she had cornered him.
“I wanted to give this to you,” she said, holding out his scarf.
He took it from her and draped it over his arm, trying his best to ignore the wave of disappointment that their final connection to one another had just been severed. “Thanks. You could have kept it, though.”
“It’s okay,” she replied. “Between all of us girls, my mother has a supply.”
Luke set his paper cup on a nearby table, darting his vision from the curious gaze of Mrs. Carson, the head of the parents’ association, behind the punch bowl. Catching his eye, she glanced meaningfully at Grace, her eyes widening ever so slightly.
He set his jaw and turned away. Just what he needed. Since Helen died, he had been promoted to Briar Creek’s most eligible bachelor in the eyes of the women’s auxiliary board, the PTA, and every other fundraisi
ng committee around town. Mark had been tickled to have finally slipped in ranking, having suffered through years of nosy inquiries into his love life by the women around town. Luke supposed it was incentive enough to move on with his life once and for all—anything was worth escaping this unwanted attention. Anything but getting involved with Grace again, that was.
Wouldn’t they love that, he thought, narrowing his eyes.
“Don’t turn around now, but I think we’re giving some of the locals something to talk about,” he warned, and Grace laughed softly, that lovely, melodious sound that forced him to smile. No one had a laugh like Grace.
But then, Grace was one of a kind.
“If I didn’t want to induce a cardiac arrest, I might be inclined to grab you by the lapels and kiss you right here and now,” she quipped. “It would serve them right, old gossips.”
Luke rubbed the back of his neck and thrust his hands in his pockets. “Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to more neutral territory.
“Oh, I loved it.” Grace smiled warmly, but a strange shadow came over her eyes. “Sophie was just darling,” she said, her voice fading.
Luke glanced across the room to where Sophie stood with the rest of the Madisons. Adam was there too—Jane’s husband. A friendly enough guy, but not one he knew well.
“She’s a sweetheart,” he observed. “My mom enjoys teaching her ballet.”
At the mention of his mother, Grace’s cheeks flushed. “I saw your mother earlier. I—I didn’t get a chance to say hello,” she finished.
So she was feeling a little nervous then, wasn’t she? Well, good, Luke couldn’t help but feeling. It shouldn’t be so easy for her, to come back to town after all this time, after the chaos she had left in her exit. He’d stuck around, lived out the repercussions of their breakup, the hounding questions from anyone and everyone who was disappointed in their outcome. Did she honestly think she could come back here without facing some consequence? That she could stride into town and mess everything up, and stroll right back out again?
“Well, she’s over there talking to Jane,” he offered. “Why don’t you go over and say hello?”
Alarm flashed through Grace’s emerald gaze and she glanced away quickly. “Oh, I will. Later,” she said.
“I’m sure she’d like that. She was always fond of you.” He grinned, noting the relief that spread over her delicate features.
“She always meant a lot to me,” Grace said, smiling sadly. She lifted her chin, shrugging off the sentimental turn in the conversation. He was too grateful to be stung by the gesture. She’d built a wall up around herself, but so help him, he wouldn’t let her tear down his. Not now. Not after everything.
“I have to admit, I was sort of surprised to see you up there tonight.”
Luke shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
“Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”
Luke stared at her, and after a pause gave a simple nod. It was always a sore spot with him, the way she’d been less than supportive in him choosing to take a teaching position in Briar Creek, in the very school they had both attended as children. It was unglamorous to her, predictable. He wasn’t challenging himself, she’d told him. He was settling.
She couldn’t understand that it was what he wanted to do, or why. Ray Madison had been like the father he never had through his adolescence, and it was because of his stories that Luke chose to follow in his path, just as Grace had followed hers. It wasn’t lost on him that Grace wouldn’t have her father any other way, but somehow she expected different from Luke.
Maybe it was because Ray had never stood in the way of her dreams the way she felt he had.
Grace pursed her pretty lips. She’d painted them a dark shade of red—a festive color, he noticed with a twinge of irony. He wondered what that was all about. He tried not to consider that it would have anything to do with seeing him tonight. After all, she’d just admitted that she hadn’t expected to see him.
“I meant that it was surprising to see you lead the show,” she said. Leaning in closer, she lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper: “I mean, last I checked, you weren’t exactly gung-ho about Christmas.”
Luke listened to the sweet voice in his ear, felt the tingle of her breath on his skin. From this close proximity, he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo, feel the heat of her body close to his. It was so familiar, so right—Luke stopped himself.
It was so wrong.
He pulled back, straightening his spine. “Do you think I had ’em fooled?”
She grinned and his groin stirred. Damn it. “Completely,” she said.
He matched her smile, relaxing into the moment, and then stopped himself. It was too natural to fall under her charm, to get caught up in the depth of their connection. He couldn’t have that.
“I guess we’re the only two Scrooges in this room,” he said, glancing around at all the smiling families, the laughing children. He grinned, hoping to replace the ache in her heart with a joke, but one look into her eyes cut him straight to the gut. This could have been them—if she had stayed, they could have been among these happy, smiling families, instead of two lonely people, standing on the edges, left out.
Helen. His breath stalled on her image. This is exactly why it was not good for him to be standing here, spending any more time with Grace. If he and Grace had made it, then he and Helen would never have married, never even met, never would have shared anything. Shame churned his stomach raw, and he swallowed the acidic taste that filled his mouth. He reached back to the table for his eggnog, ignoring Mrs. Carson’s piercing gaze.
“Helen died right after Christmas,” he said suddenly. He needed to say it, needed to speak her name out loud in front of the one person who had the power to make him forget her altogether.
Beside him, Grace had paled, her eyes were dark and hollowed, and when they met his, she averted her gaze. “I’m sorry,” she said on a breath. “I didn’t know that part.”
“Why would you?” He suddenly turned angry. He didn’t need her here, didn’t want her here. He just wanted to be alone. He didn’t want to be reminded of what a terrible husband he had been, especially now, when he should be honoring the wife he had betrayed.
“I guess you have a valid reason for hating Christmas then,” she said grimly, and Luke felt himself waver at the kindness in her tone. It was the first time he felt he could let down his defenses—the first time he felt she wouldn’t try to take Helen’s memory from him, replace it with something lustful, passionate, and wrong. So wrong.
He forced a grin. “What’s your excuse?” His heart skipped a beat when he thought of Ray. Of course.
Grace only huffed out a breath. She glanced around the room, and even in profile he could see the strain on her face. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess you could say that life hasn’t been working out for me lately.”
“You mean with your father,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing his eyes on her. “Grace, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not just that.” She halted, frowning. “Well, of course it is. But… it’s other things too. I guess—I guess you could say that life hasn’t turned out the way I had hoped it would.” Her voice cracked on her last words and she forced a brave grin, attempting to mask the pain with laughter—a trick he understood all too well. Her eyes shone bright, betraying her.
He expected to be relieved, almost vindicated to hear her confession—to know that she had regretted her path, the one that had led her away from him. But hearing her words, watching her fight for composure and hold her head high, he felt overcome with sadness. Not for the pain she was going through, but for time lost, and hopes unfulfilled.
She had been so insistent about leaving, about going out into the world. She needed experiences, stimulation. Excitement. Everything she could never find here, she’d said. And she’d gone, left him. It had all meant more to her than he did.
Or s
o he had thought.
He could still remember the way he felt when he saw her walk up his driveway that warm spring day, six months since he had last seen her. He had come home from work, knowing Helen would be arriving any minute, and there she was. Grace.
“Hi, Honeybee,” he’d said, as naturally as if he’d seen her that morning and kissed her goodbye after breakfast instead of Helen. It was always that way with Grace; they could always leave off as if no time had passed.
He’d stood, unable to move or step forward, the air locked in his chest, his mind racing. He was frozen with conflicting thoughts, paralyzed with desire he fought to deny as she strode toward him. He remembered the way the sun caught her hair, the way her eyes shifted. She was nervous. And that was when he knew what she had come to say and dread pooled in his gut.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, and he’d stood, holding her stare, gripping his keys, his breathing labored and heavy. He couldn’t say it back, no matter how true it was. It was too late.
He shook his head, anger coursing through his veins. How easy for her to come here, looking like this, standing so close, after all this time. As if he’d been waiting for this day, hoping she would come to her senses. Come back to him.
“I’ve met someone, Grace,” he said, and she lifted her chin.
“I know.”
He exhaled. He stared at her, watching as she chewed on her lip and smoothed her hands over the skirt of her dress, giving him that questioning look that made his heart ache like it never could for anyone but her. A thousand questions ran through his mind, but he didn’t have time for them all, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers. It would only make this more difficult than it had to be.
“Look, it’s not a good time. Helen will be here soon.”
She arched a brow, pinching her lips in displeasure. “Helen? Is that her name?”
“How long are you in town for, Grace?” Luke looked down the street, bracing himself for the sight of Helen’s car rounding the bend. As much as he dreaded her finding him like this, he was almost wishing she would appear, save him from these unwanted emotions. With Helen he was safe. Their life was simple and easy. By this time tomorrow he’d forget Grace all over again, he’d go back to his routine, the established life he had with Helen. And he’d be content.
