by Susan Meier
She laughed.
And his heart lifted again. She obviously loved Christmas, and making her laugh suddenly felt like it should be his life’s mission.
He sucked in a breath, confused by his jumbled thoughts. Especially because that last one was just wrong. It couldn’t be his mission to make anyone happy. He was too depressed.
He picked up the sack of presents David had left behind. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this again.”
“You’ve done it before?”
He took a long breath, wondering why he always spoke before he thought with her. “Once.” He shook his head, again dislodging unwanted memories that flooded his brain. Memories of Blake this time. Christmas in his penthouse. Sneaking into the living room to plug in the tree lights so that when he carried Blake into the room everything would be perfect.
Everything had been perfect.
His breath stuttered out. His feeling of sadness returned. “It’s not important. The important thing is you’ve got a job.”
“A career,” she interjected. “As I was explaining to Artie why he should hire me, I realized that even though I’m probably still going to starve for a few years, it will be sacrifice with a purpose. Exactly what you’d told me.” She caught his gaze. “How’d you get so smart?”
He quickly looked away and hefted the heavy sack over his shoulder. “Part of being a leader is knowing where people fit. I’m amazed it took me so long to figure you out.”
He pointed at the door. “Let’s go. When the punch runs out, everybody goes to a little bar down the street. We need to give them their gifts before they desert us.”
She opened the glass door of David’s office and directed him down the hall.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
At Ricky’s joyful call, the seventy or so employees scattered about in the cubicles stopped talking.
“Has everybody been a good employee?”
Eloise laughed gaily. The little bell at the end of her hat tinkled.
“This is my elf, Eloise.” He paused and faced her. “Eloise Elf...it has a nice ring to it.”
She rang her bell. “I think so.”
Everybody laughed.
That strange feeling floated through Ricky again. This time he recognized it. Happiness. He told himself he didn’t deserve it, but it didn’t go away. Plus, it felt different. Strong. Weirdly strong. As if the earth had shifted and everything in his past was gone.
He shook his head. Everything in his past gone? He didn’t want his past gone. He didn’t want to forget his son. That was absurd.
He got himself back to the business at hand, distributing the bonuses hidden in gifts wrapped in bright red, green, blue, silver and gold foil paper.
Eloise handed him the first box. He read the name, and when the employee opened his gift—a watch—he also found an envelope. He ripped open the envelope, did a small dance of joy, raced over to his cubicle where he grabbed his coat and ran out.
Seeing the confused look on Eloise’s face, Ricky leaned in. “Employee bonuses, remember?”
She turned to him and he realized he’d leaned in so far their faces were only inches apart.
“Oh?”
The temptation to kiss her stormed through him, knitting itself to that odd sensation that everything had shifted. But it couldn’t have shifted. He couldn’t change the past. He might love having her around, but she was better off without him.
He pulled away. “Some of the junior employees, people learning the ropes, earn just enough for their keep. This year, thanks to you, I realized they needed a better bonus.”
She smiled. “You’re a good guy.”
Happiness fluttered through him, not because he thought himself good, but because he knew she genuinely believed it. It had been so long since anyone had thought of him as good—since he had thought of himself as good—that even stranger feelings rose up in him.
If they had been alone, he might have told her about Blake. Everything inside him longed to tell her, even though he could see no point to it. In a few hours, he’d never see her again. So maybe it was lucky this was the wrong place, the wrong time.
He handed out the gifts, and the reaction that rippled through the group made him laugh. Everyone came up and shook his hand. Some people told him what they intended to do with the unexpected extra money. Others just hugged him.
Christmas spirit warmed his heart, and he finally identified the odd feeling swimming through him. It wasn’t happiness. After eighteen long months, he felt normal. He hadn’t changed. The world hadn’t shifted. He was simply coming back to the land of the living.
But he had also been correct. Once the punch ran out, his employees jetted off. A few suggested he join them at the pub. He politely declined.
With everyone gone, he walked through the room, gathering wayward wrapping paper and empty punch glasses.
Out of her elf suit and back in her jeans and sexy black boots, Eloise sat on a desk, watching him. “So now you clean up?”
“My mom always taught me to pick up empty glasses.” He shook his head with a laugh. The memory of his happy childhood was so strong he couldn’t banish it, and longing to be home filled his chest. “Old habits die hard.”
“Oh, I don’t know. It seems to me your mom taught you well. She sounds like a good person.”
He hesitated. “She is.” That funny feeling—the sense that he was reentering the land of the living—rattled through him again. He could see his mom and dad by the big Christmas tree in the great room of their log home. He could see his sisters with their kids and spouses. He could see the empty place in the crowd, by the mantel, where he should be standing.
Her laugh penetrated his haze. “Hey! Earth to Ricky.”
He glanced up sharply. She sat on the desk, one leg tucked under her. A glass of punch in her hand. The gleam of success in her eyes.
He knew that he had Eloise to thank for the normal feeling that kept creeping up on him. And, although she was happy right now, she had no one. He might have gotten her a job, but she’d be alone on Christmas. It just wasn’t right.
He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Give me ten minutes to change out of this suit.”
“Sure.”
He raced down the hall. As he slipped out of his red flannel Santa clothes, he grabbed his cell phone and called David.
The noise of the pub poured through the phone when his assistant answered.
“I know you’re celebrating, but I have a major mission for you.” After the promise of another bonus, Ricky outlined his plan.
David laughed, but Ricky said, “Don’t take this too lightly. This mission comes with a deadline. You have just a little more than one hour.”
* * *
Norman drove them back to her apartment, and even to Eloise, who hoped to stall her time with Ricky, it seemed as if he took his time.
But eventually the silent ride came to an end. She wasn’t surprised that Ricky shifted nervously as they climbed the several flights of stairs to her apartment. He hadn’t made any mention of the Christmas Eve wedding she’d been expecting to attend with him. And she suspected this was it. Their last few minutes together.
When they finally reached her apartment door, he put his hand on her shoulder. “Mind if I come in?”
She met his gaze slowly, not sure why he wanted to come in. Would she get a kiss? An explanation? A sad goodbye? Or did he want a few minutes to remind her that in a few years, when she had some experience, he would fund her?
Her spirit of boldness rose up in her again. She was not letting him go without a fight. If he was giving her five minutes of private time, she would use them.
“I’d love for you to come in.” She had no idea what she would do, but she wasn’t going to just stand there, letting him go
, letting him pretend there was nothing between them.
She turned, unlocked her door, opened it and stopped dead in her tracks.
Surrounding her pitiful eighteen-inch plastic tree were several boxes.
He leaned in, over her shoulder. “I think Santa’s been here.”
“You’re Santa.”
“Exactly.”
He gave her a nudge into the apartment. “Go. Open them.”
Not sure what was going on, she hesitantly walked over to the little tree. Sitting on the window seat, surrounded by cotton pretending to be snow, the plastic tree was dwarfed by one tall box, one huge box and three smaller ones.
Her chest tightened. All this time she’d been thinking she had to make a move to keep him. But maybe these gifts meant he was trying to keep her?
“Open the little ones first.”
Confused, she slowly picked up the small square box to find a pink cashmere sweater. Pink. The color he’d liked her in the best.
Her gaze flew to his. “I love it.”
He smiled. “I knew you would. Open the next small one.”
She ripped the wrapping paper off a box that had clearly come from a jewelry store. “A diamond watch?”
Before she could say anything, he directed her to the last small box. “Keep going.”
She opened the gift to find a book: How to Get the Most Out of Your Intern Experience.
She laughed. “I’ll need this much more than a diamond watch.”
He pointed at one of the two bigger boxes. Steeped in bewilderment, she opened this one a little slower. It contained a satin evening cape.
“Not a fur,” he said, explaining his choice. “Something I think you’ll be comfortable in. And look,” he said, pointing out the quilted material beneath the shiny cape. “It has a lining for really cold nights.”
She caught his gaze. He beamed at her. She’d never seen him so happy. As much as she wanted to ask him what the hell was going on, she couldn’t spoil his fun. “It’s perfect.”
He pointed at the final box. “Now, the last one.”
She ripped off the paper to reveal a shiny new coffeemaker. Her gaze swung to his.
“There’s a year’s supply of coffee too.”
She said, “Thanks,” but her voice choked. He’d gotten her coffee? Only a person who truly knew her, who paid attention to her, would know how much she’d missed her coffee. How could that possibly mean anything except that he loved her? Her eyes filled with tears.
“You don’t like it?”
So why didn’t he just say he loved her?
“Everything is perfect.”
“Over the past few weeks you’ve given me lots of gifts. The biggest one was happiness.”
She looked at him, her eyes blurry with tears. Just let him say it. Please let him say it!
“You changed me. I was stuck. I couldn’t even see a speck of light at the end of any tunnel. All I saw was darkness until you. Then gradually I started seeing things differently again, and today I realized I felt normal.”
Her confusion returned. “You feel normal?”
“Yes. Not perfect, certainly not good, but normal.”
“So you bought me a bunch of gifts?”
“Important gifts. Things I know you’ll need.”
Confusion and pain collided to create an indescribable tightness in her chest. She was expecting him to tell her he loved her and instead he’d bought her gifts to show his appreciation.
But they were important gifts.
Gifts that proved he knew her and cared enough about her that he bought the things she really needed. He had to love her. Nothing else made sense.
She slowly met his gaze. “You have to help me out here.” She lifted the new evening coat. “What does this mean?”
“It means you no longer have to wear your wool cape.”
She shook her head fiercely. “No. Don’t cop out. The real bottom line to all these gifts is that you know me. You like me.”
He nodded. “I do.”
“So do these gifts mean we’re dating for real?”
“Oh, Eloise.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t want that.”
Her heart kicked with fear. After everything they’d shared, how could he not see they were made for each other? How could he believe she wouldn’t want him?
“I would! I do!”
“You don’t.”
She set the coffeemaker on the sofa and scrambled over to stand beside him. When he turned to walk way, she caught his arm, forced him to face her.
“Tell me why. After all these weeks of dating, getting close, why are you pushing me away?”
He didn’t even try to deny that he was pushing her away. “Because I’m no good for you.”
“That’s another cop-out. Another vague reason that explains nothing!”
“Be glad I’m not letting you in.” He pivoted, motioning with his arms to the gifts and wrapping paper. “Christmas kills me.”
“Hey, it’s not exactly a walk in the park for me either. I’m alone. I lost a husband and have no family. You can’t tell me not seeing your son is worse.”
He stared at her, his mouth slightly open. “How can you say that?”
“I know it’s painful. I think it’s unconscionable that your ex took him away—”
He gaped at her. “My ex didn’t take him away.”
“She didn’t?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, then popped them open again. “No, Eloise. He died. My son, Blake, died.”
Her brain froze. Her breathing stalled. Incomprehension stopped her heart. “Your son is dead.”
He said nothing.
White-hot anger fueled the pain that roared through her. “Your son is dead...and you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want your pity.”
“Pity?”
“I always told you that. I wanted you to behave normally at those parties. To make it look like we were beyond my tragedy. And it worked. I could even play Santa today.”
The shock and pain that filled her nearly burst her chest. She fell to the sofa, feeling like a hundred different kinds of fool. But most of all, she just felt sad. He hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her the most important fact of his life.
He didn’t love her.
She loved him, but he clearly didn’t love her.
He scrubbed his hand across his mouth. “Look, I’m sorry. But I needed this. I really, really needed a few weeks of pretending I was okay.”
She said nothing. The pain of knowing he didn’t love her, that he probably didn’t feel anything for her, was too intense.
“Blake was eighteen months old. He and his mother had been at a barbecue. She wrecked her car, a convertible. She hit a pole...and Blake was thrown from her car. He lived for only forty-eight more hours.”
She went from upset to horror so quickly her breath caught.
“You want to know the worst of it? Had Blake been buckled into his car seat properly, he would have been fine.” He took a breath and turned to Eloise. “His mother had been drinking. She wasn’t sloshed, but her blood alcohol was over the legal limit. And she hadn’t buckled him in right.”
“She didn’t want him. Never had. She wanted eighteen years’ worth of child support. I have no doubt that she loved Blake. But she wasn’t a mother. I saw the signs.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “I saw a hundred signs. And I wanted Blake. I had a weekend nanny I could have hired permanently. I had the big penthouse. I had the money. But I always thought I’d talk to her about my taking custody the next weekend or the next or the next.” He faced her sad Christmas tree again. “Now Blake is dead and his mother is serving out a manslaughter sentence.”
Eloise caught his gaze as a bit
of understanding crept in. His story wasn’t just a story of loss. It was a story of failure. And guilt. Pain. Shame. Torment. He believed his son’s death was his fault.
Her anger dissolved in the face of her love for him. Not quite sure what to say, she slowly rose from the sofa. “You can’t change the past. But that doesn’t mean you should stop living.”
He spun to face her. “It doesn’t?” He laughed harshly. “Really? Because there are some days I think stopping living would be easier. My son is dead. It is my fault. I deal with that every day.”
“Of course, you do. But you just told me I gave you eleven dates of happiness. You’re on the right track.”
“I’m on no track. I take one day at a time, bury myself in work. It’s all I have. All I deserve.”
Her fight returned. Something inside told her if she didn’t reach him now, she wouldn’t get another chance. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but you deserve more. A lot more.”
His voice softened. She could almost see defeat settle on his shoulders. “No. I don’t.”
She sucked in a breath. The do-or-die feeling flooded her, urging her forward. “It doesn’t matter what you think you deserve because I already love you.”
“Then you’re a fool.” He walked over and slid his hands up her arms, as if comforting her. “You are a wonderful, beautiful woman who deserves to be pampered and loved. Getting involved with me would be nothing but sorrow for you.”
Before she could stop him, he scooped his jacket off her sofa and walked out. Eloise raced after him, but he was so much faster than she was that by the time she reached the lobby, Norman was already pulling away from the curb.
He wasn’t ever coming back. She’d never see him again.
Her chest stung. Her eyes filled with tears.
As always with him, she didn’t feel her own pain. She felt his. Only this time it was stronger, like a coal from the burning pits of hell. His son was dead. He felt responsible for the imprisonment of a woman he shouldn’t feel sorry for. He took too much on his shoulders.
It was no wonder he didn’t want another wounded person in his life.
