Twelve Days

by Teresa Hill

  "Give me a call. I think I'm going to owe you a favor."

  "Oh, hell, Sam. I'd have been mad if you hadn't called for something like this. You're a part of this town now. We stick together, look out for each other."

  Sam nodded. He knew the people of Baxter did. He just hadn't realized he was considered one of them.

  "I need to get back," Joe said. "I'll call you as soon as I hear anything."

  Sam thanked him again and headed home himself, just remembering as he came into town that it was Christmas Eve. He didn't know whether to hope this woman in the hospital was Annie Greene or not. She was so sick she might never wake up, and he didn't want Emma or Zach to lose her. Grace was so young, she wouldn't remember her, but Emma and Zach would. He didn't want to have to tell them their mother was gone, and at the same time, he didn't want Rachel to have to let these children go. He didn't want to do that himself.

  And he had no idea how to work out any of this so that no one ended up with a broken heart.

  * * *

  When Sam got home, Rachel was getting Zach ready and Grace was asleep, but Emma was waiting for him. From the worried look on her face, he knew he had to tell her something and he didn't want to do it here.

  "I need some help," he told Emma, before she could ask him a thing. "I'm not quite done with my shopping..."

  Rachel laughed. God, he loved hearing Rachel laugh again. "He always waits until the very last minute," she told Emma.

  "Will you come with me?" he asked. "And help me?"

  "Okay," Emma said.

  Rachel looked surprised and he knew she wanted to ask what was going on, but he cut her off.

  "We'll hurry," he promised.

  "We have to be at church at six," she reminded him.

  "Church?" Zach frowned.

  "Yes, church," Rachel said. "There's more to Christmas than Santa."

  Sam promised he and Emma would be back in time. Emma followed him to his truck and said, "We're going shopping?"

  "Yes," he said. "Rachel needs a present."

  "Oh."

  She let it go at that and Sam tried to figure out what to say to her about her mother. He really didn't know anything for sure.

  He glanced over at her finally, after driving for a few minutes, sitting silently beside him looking at all the windows of the shops. She looked so sad. He didn't want her to be sad.

  "Rachel really should have something from you and Zack," Sam said, hoping to distract her and give himself some time to think. "Will you pick something out?"

  "I don't have any money," Emma said.

  "That's okay. You pick and I'll pay. It'll come from all of us. Do you know of anything she needs?"

  "No."

  "Well, maybe we'll find something." He parked in front of one of the two women's clothing stores in town and they walked in. There was Christmas music coming through the speakers in the store and a festive, if slightly desperate air about the place. It was Christmas Eve after all.

  The clerk, Jamie Cousins, whose husband worked with Sam, greeted him by name and gave them a warm smile. "Waiting til the last minute again, Sam?"

  Emma laughed a bit at that and Sam admitted that he was. They wandered around the store, Sam following Emma, who paused in front of a display of thick terry-cloth bathrobes.

  "Rachel's has a hole in it," she told him.

  "It does?"

  Emma nodded. "And Zack spilled grape juice on it the other day. Grape juice is hard to clean up."

  Sam frowned, thinking a bathrobe was as good a present as any. He'd gotten Rachel something else already, something he hoped she'd like, and this would be fine coming from the kids. He fingered the thick material in a pale, pale pink. It was soft, and he supposed it would be warm.

  "You don't like it?" Emma asked.

  "No. It's fine," he claimed, picking it up.

  And then his gaze caught on a flash of blue in the corner. He liked Rachel in blue, and this was the color of her eyes. Sam walked over to the silk robe and pulled it off a dainty, thickly padded hanger that was more suited to one of those lingerie stores at the mall than downtown Baxter.

  Jamie walked over to him and took the terry cloth robe from him. "Going to be practical, Sam? Or not?"

  He flushed a bit, caught fingering the silky robe and thinking about what his wife would look like in it.

  "That's pretty, too," Emma said, oh so innocently.

  "Practical is nice, but it only goes so far," Jamie claimed. "Especially at Christmas."

  Sam wasn't thinking of being practical at all. He was thinking of what his chances were of seeing Rachel in the midnight silk robe. Maybe he had some hope left in him after all.

  "We'll take both," he told Jamie.

  Jamie smiled knowingly.

  "Both?" the ever-practical Emma asked.

  "Yes," he said, refusing to be embarrassed. "You and Zach can give her the pink one, and I'll give her the other one. Or maybe I'll save it for another day. Her birthday's not long after Christmas. Maybe I won't wait for the last minute for that."

  Emma still frowned, probably at what she saw as the extravagance of buying two robes at a time, Emma who'd likely spent her whole life in hand-me-downs, too rapidly outgrowing everything she had when there was little money to buy more.

  He paid for the robes and waited while they were wrapped. He and Emma were back in the truck, almost home, when he couldn't wait any longer to bring up the subject of her mother.

  "I guess we need to talk about something else, too, before we get back to the house."

  Emma just looked at him, with so much hope it nearly broke his heart.

  "I'm sorry, Em," he said quickly.

  "You didn't find my mom?" she choked out.

  "Not yet."

  "But you tried? That's where you were all day?"

  "Yes. I tried." He felt as if he'd failed her and hated the idea. He wanted to make everything all better for Emma, too.

  Her face fell. Her bottom lip quivered but she stubbornly fought back tears.

  "Hey, this was just the first day," Sam said. "Just because I didn't find her the first day..."

  "You won't give up?"

  "No," he promised. "I'll never give up."

  Chapter 15

  Rachel had never faced a Christmas Eve with as much anticipation or dread. It seemed her whole life had come down to what happened in the next twenty-four hours. They'd have this one day, and then her husband would make his decision. He would either stay or go. Her whole life was about to change, and she had to keep reminding herself—one good Christmas. That was what she'd vowed to give them all, and it was upon them. She wouldn't let herself ruin it by worrying about what would come later.

  Sam and Emma came home, and they had to rush to get to the six o'clock service at church. The bells atop the old stone church were ringing when they arrived, the front steps adorned with poinsettias and greenery strung along the rails. Inside, the lights had been dimmed and there were candles burning on the altar, the whole place seeming to glow.

  The organist was already playing Christmas music softly and people spoke in hushed tones, feeling the reverence of the evening.

  Rachel remembered the feeling of peace she'd found here the night before, the sense of hope, and it was all here tonight. She still felt it as they settled into a pew near the back and on the right.

  "Is it almost time?" Zach asked, still looking for Santa.

  "Not quite," Rachel said. "What did we say? Church. Dinner. A story. Bedtime. Then Santa."

  He gave a long-suffering-child sigh.

  Someone else crowded into the already packed pew, and Rachel found herself pressed tightly against her husband's side. Grace started babbling, trying to get Sam to talk to her. Sam put his arm around Rachel's shoulders and touched a fingertip to Grace's chin. She giggled at him and cooed and batted her eyelashes.

  "She is going to be a knockout someday," he said. "She'll give her father fits for sure."

  "I know," Rachel sai
d, wondering if he wanted to be her father. If he'd stay if the children did.

  He'd said no more half measures between them, and she supposed staying for the children would definitely be that. What would it take for him to want to stay?

  He looked so handsome tonight and smelled faintly of Old Spice; she'd bought him his first bottle of it their first Christmas together, and he'd never worn anything else. His hair was still damp from his quick shower, and it was jet-black and curling a bit at the ends. He hadn't shaved, and it was late enough in the evening that she knew just how his slightly roughened cheek would feel against her skin. She knew how soft his mouth was, how strong his arms were, how safe she'd always felt there.

  Seeing him now with Grace... She loved seeing him like this, seeing all the gentleness and kindness and love inside of him that she always knew was there. He might hide it from the rest of the world most of the time, but she'd always known. These children did, too, despite the rocky start they had with Sam.

  He bent over to tickle Grace's chin again, and she cackled in delight, then held her arms out to him. Sam took her, one-handed, with Rachel's help. She was standing on his lap, his arm around her middle, and she put her chubby little hands against his cheeks and patted them, then either tried to kiss his nose or take a bite out of it. Grace laughed at that, and she made Sam laugh, too.

  Rachel felt a twinge in the region of her heart and said, "You would have made a wonderful father."

  Sam looked at her, unsettled and too serious in a moment's time.

  "It's okay," she said. "I'm not going to cry or run away from it anymore. We had a child once, and you would have been a wonderful father to her. You still could be."

  Sam still didn't say anything. Grace looked a bit puzzled and stared from one of them to the next. "It's all right," Sam whispered to her.

  "I'm better now, Sam," Rachel said. "I've changed. I think you've changed, too, and that I've finally grown up. I'm not that silly, spoiled girl anymore."

  "I liked that girl," he said. "I didn't think she was silly at all. I thought she was sunshine and laughter and everything good in this world. And I always wanted to spoil her myself. I wanted to give her everything."

  "She just wanted you," Rachel said. "All along. Just you."

  He was going to say something else. She could see it in his eyes, but Grace started making a racket and the service was starting. They concentrated instead on quieting her and keeping her entertained, and then it seemed they'd lost the moment to talk.

  Rachel sat there with Sam's arm around her and let herself rest against him, let the music and the beauty of the place settle over her once more, calming her, giving her strength.

  It wasn't over yet, this battle she faced to keep her husband and maybe these children. She was ready to fight, and she wasn't afraid anymore. She wasn't afraid of anything.

  * * *

  Emma used to go to church with her mother but she hadn't been in a long, long time. This one was especially nice. It was big and crowded tonight, but she liked the way it felt in here—warm and hopeful. She liked the Christmas music, the candles, and the fancy windows, like the ones in Sam and Rachel's house. They seemed to glow tonight. She liked Sam and Rachel, too, felt safe with them and trusted them. Honestly, she did.

  It was just that the world was such a mixed-up place right now. At least, hers was. When Sam said he'd go look for her mother, she'd been so sure this would be the day she'd have her mother back. But he hadn't found her.

  Emma was scared now.

  She'd trusted Sam to find her, but she was afraid he was keeping something from her, something bad.

  And tomorrow was Christmas.

  She sat there as still as possible in the crowded church, wishing and praying as hard as she could and feeling more lonely and more miserable with each passing moment, and still her mother was nowhere to be found.

  They went back to Sam and Rachel's house. Emma picked at her dinner, not caring a thing for anything like food. She got out of her church clothes, the prettiest dress she'd ever owned. She wished her mother were here to see her in it. Then she put on her pajamas and went back downstairs.

  Sam read The Night Before Christmas, the one with his and Rachel's house on the cover, and Emma thought about that some more, about being in the Christmas house at Christmas.

  Where was the magic? she wondered. Where was her mother?

  Grace was asleep by the time Sam finished the story. Emma gave her a kiss and then Rachel took her upstairs. Sam took Zach, telling her that she should go on up to bed, too, because they'd all be up early in the morning.

  Emma slowly climbed the stairs and sat down on her bed in the unfamiliar room missing her mother so bad it hurt to breathe. Rachel came in a moment later and sat down beside her. She didn't say anything at first, just pulled Emma against her side and held on to her.

  "What's wrong, Emma?"

  "It's almost Christmas. I was sure that if I could just hang on until Christmas, my mom would be back."

  "And now you don't think she's coming?"

  "I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."

  "You know she loves you," Rachel reminded her.

  "Yes." She was sure of that. She could hold on to that.

  "And Zach and Grace love you," Rachel said. "I love you, too."

  She gave her a big squeeze and Emma thought about that. About having Rachel love her. Rachel was a good person. She was kind and nice and she'd taken such good care of all of them. Sam, too. She thought Sam might love them a little bit, too. And this was a good place to be. She didn't want them to think she was ungrateful.

  "I like you and Sam a lot," she said. "I do. It's just..."

  "You still miss your mother. I understand that. And how much you want her back. I know it's hard, but sometimes we just have to hope, Emma. Sometimes that's all we have to hold on to. Hope. Do you think you can hold out just a little longer? Can you find just a little bit of hope and a smidgen of faith? And believe that everything's going to be okay?"

  Emma nodded, too upset to even say a single word. She just leaned into Rachel and let Rachel hold her, which was almost as good as having her mom's arms around her.

  She thought she had just enough hope and faith left to hang on until Christmas, but that was it.

  Tomorrow... She didn't know what she'd do tomorrow if her mother wasn't back.

  * * *

  Rachel went back downstairs to sit in front of the fire, brushing away a few stray tears. She didn't want Sam to see them, had promised herself she wouldn't cry at all. But Emma was so sad, and Rachel knew what her Christmas wishes were all about, Zach's too.

  Not tonight, she told herself firmly. Not tomorrow, either. They would take the day and all it had to offer, worry later about what came after.

  She looked up and saw Sam standing in the doorway looking so handsome in the gentle light of the fire. She forgot sometimes; she'd been looking at him for so long, but he was a truly handsome man. There was still a hint of that bad boy she'd fallen in love with so long ago, the slightly dangerous one. But there was so much more, too. So much more she loved about him.

  Which made her think about what she wanted for Christmas. She wanted him to stay.

  "What in the world are you thinking?" he asked.

  "About what I want for Christmas," she said, way too seriously, then, determined to lighten the mood, imagined what he'd do if she walked over to him, tied a red ribbon around him, and said she'd picked out her own present, thank you very much. She'd take him.

  He arched a brow at that and looked puzzled. She remembered Christmas mornings they'd spent snuggling in bed, hiding from the cold in what was once this drafty, old house. Christmases spent laughing and playing in the snow. Christmases spent missing all the people they'd lost. So many Christmases. So many years with Sam.

  "I can't imagine my life without you," she said, remembering courage, faith, hope, a vow she'd made to do her best to salvage this marriage.

  "Why w
ould you be thinking of your life without me, Rachel?"

  She gathered up all her courage and knew it was time. It was long past time. "I think you know why, Sam."

  He shook his head back and forth, but she saw the tension coming into his entire body. She hadn't meant to do this on Christmas Eve, but she was all out of time. In a day and a half, he was supposed to go, and the hardest thing of all to admit was that she would let him go, if that's what he had to do.

  "I told you I want you, and I'll never ask you to leave, but, Sam, if you want to go... If you don't think you can be happy here with me. If I haven't loved you enough or made you feel like you belong here with me. If it takes leaving me for you to be happy, then go, Sam. Because I want you to be happy."

  She did it without a single tear falling, did it looking him straight in the eye, and thought he looked as miserable as she'd ever seen him.

  "You know?" he whispered.

  "I heard you talking to Rick on the phone the day the children came."

  He looked away for a moment, looked as if the breath simply left his body. "Oh, God, Rachel," he said. "I'm sorry."

  And then her tears wouldn't stay away. They rolled down her cheeks.

  "Don't be sorry," she insisted, her head held high. "I know how unhappy you must have been for you to think you had to go, and I can't blame you for that, Sam. I know what it's been like between us for a long time. I know what I've been like."

  "You've been so sad," he said.

  She nodded.

  "I never wanted to hurt you," he said, then took her face, her wet cheeks, between his hands, bent down, and touched his forehead to hers. "It seems like we've been sad forever."

  "I know. I never wanted to make you miserable, Sam. I wanted you to be happy. I still do. Whatever it takes," she said. "Even if it's leaving me."

  She let the words sit there between them, not liking at all the way it sounded, as if she were offering her permission for him to go, but not knowing how else to say it. She was going to think about what he needed now, what it would take for him to be happy.

  She was setting him free and yet...

  "Hey, it's not a hint," she said as lightly as she could. "I meant what I said yesterday. If it were up to me, you'd always be here. But I'm not going to try to hold you here if you believe you have to go."