Home for the Holidays

by Sara Richardson

  Magnolia stared back at her friend, but she hardly saw her. No one knew about the infertility, about what it had done to her marriage. She stared at the flowers until they blurred into a shapeless splotch of colors. “I think I have to leave him.” The words had to come out. Too much pressure had built in her heart and she couldn’t hold it all back any longer.

  “What?” Coral jolted upright, her coffee sloshing out of the mug. “Gawd, Mags, what?”

  “I have to leave. Maybe not forever, but for now.” She’d known it before this moment. Maybe she’d known it for a while, but she’d so hoped she’d end up pregnant after that last treatment. And a baby would fix what had broken in her marriage. She wouldn’t have to obsess anymore, over hormones and the right timing and what to eat and what to avoid and what to force Eric to avoid. If she’d only gotten pregnant those tired sad circles under her eyes would finally be hidden beneath the healthy glow of pregnancy. If only she’d gotten pregnant this time, she and Eric wouldn’t be crumbling under the stress of the financial sacrifices they’d made so they could simply hold a baby in their arms.

  Her mind wandered backward again, pulling her into the thoughts she hated most. Maybe she and Eric never should’ve gotten married. It had all happened so fast. She’d met him during a vacation to Islamorada, Florida, four years ago. The hotel she and her friends were staying at had a small fire, and he’d been one of the first firemen on the scene. As they evacuated, she’d struggled with smoke inhalation, and he’d taken care of her. Well, he’d done more than that—he’d captivated her. Eric had been strong and charming, spontaneous and a bit wild. Passionate. Best of all, he’d been free of the expectations she’d lived under most of her life.

  Oh, how she’d wanted a taste of that freedom. A life that felt like it truly belonged to her, a life that was deep and adventurous and maybe even flawed but also real. Instead of playing a rehearsed role in her mother’s perfect family, Eric had given her the chance to simply be Mags. To explore, to wander, to dance on the beach under the stars, to go skinny-dipping in the ocean. Theirs had been one of those whirlwind romances—the one she’d always dreamed of having.

  What had happened to those two spontaneous, carefree, loving people? She didn’t know. She only knew she didn’t want to be this person. The one who obsessed over hormones and diets and treatments and anything that might give her hope of finally getting pregnant. She didn’t want to be the woman who fought with her husband because he didn’t want to keep trying for a baby they might never have. She didn’t want to be the woman who spent the night sleeping in her car.

  “Okay. Okay.” Coral steadied her hands out in front of her. “Obviously you and Eric had a fight or something. That’s totally normal in a marriage. My parents fought all the time.” She gave Mags’s upper arm a gentle squeeze. “But honey, that doesn’t mean you have to leave him. You’ll work it out.”

  “We’ve tried.” They’d been trying for two years. Ever since she’d had her first miscarriage. They’d done the counseling, the relationship retreats, the podcasts. And things always got better for a while. But it had become a cycle they couldn’t seem to break no matter how hard they tried. They were both so intense, so passionate. They were too much alike. Or…they had been so much alike. They’d both wanted a family. They’d talked about trying for a baby right after their wedding, and spent hours daydreaming about how many children they would have. Eric used to say he hoped she’d have twins. Or triplets even.

  But last night…

  Mags stared hard at the counter, her lungs contracting so hard her ribs began to ache. “It wasn’t just a fight this time.” It was a turning point, a shift in the foundation of their entire relationship. “Eric told me he doesn’t want a baby. That he’s not willing to try anymore.” He’d said exactly what he knew would wreck her. I’m done, he’d said. I can’t do this anymore. We can’t afford to do this anymore. Our savings are gone, Mags. And you’ve become a completely different person. She had; she knew she’d become a different person. With each disappointment they’d endured she recognized herself less and less. Having a baby had become an act of desperation, of obsession. But she couldn’t give up now. She had to try again. “We’ve had to do all these fertility treatments and they keep failing,” Mags whispered. “It’s been so hard.”

  “Why have you never said anything?” Coral asked quietly. “I didn’t know. I had no idea.”

  No one knew. Not even her own sisters. It was so grueling the things they’d gone through. The testing and the procedures. And the results—that was always the most frustrating moment of them all. The I’m sorry, not this time, you can try again. It didn’t matter how much money they paid or which doctor they worked with or how much her heart pleaded with God, their answer was always the same. No.

  “I know it must be hard to talk about,” Coral prompted.

  “I don’t even know what to say anymore.” She’d always been independent, the peacemaker in her family. She worked hard. She loved hard. So how come she didn’t deserve a baby? How come she couldn’t have the one thing she wanted most in life, the one thing she felt would complete her?

  “I understand.” Coral covered Mags’s hand with hers. “I can’t imagine how painful this all must be. Have you gotten any outside support? From family? It’s too much to carry on your own.”

  “I haven’t talked about it with anyone.” Not even the people she loved most besides Eric. But she’d been thinking about her sisters ever since she’d received Sassy’s package. Holding that rolling pin her aunt had chosen for her had given her the first flicker of hope she’d felt in so long. Dally and Rose had texted her just this morning that they were both going, and they’d begged her to come, too. “I think I’m going to take some time off,” Mags told Coral. “To go stay with my aunt in Colorado. Just until after the holidays. Can you run things while I’m away?” They were only open three days a week in the winter as it was. This would be the absolute best time for her to get away.

  “I can handle things.” Coral stood and started to tidy up the counter like she wanted to prove herself. “You go, Mags. Take all the time you need.”

  “Thank you.” Tears sprang to her eyes. Maybe the Juniper Inn would help her find the healing she so desperately needed.

  Chapter Five

  Dahlia

  Dahlia drank in the dazzling white-capped peaks lining either side of the two-lane highway. God, she’d forgotten how much she loved the mountains.

  Even in early December the snow had already piled up in the Colorado Rockies, but it was crystalline and powdery instead of grimy like the snow back in Minnesota. So pristine and lovely. It looked exactly like one of those postcards her aunt used to send before the big falling-out in their family—like the inside of a snow globe. The sight gave her the first flicker of Christmas spirit she’d felt since Jeff had told her he wanted to take the kids to Europe.

  Truthfully, she’d been dreading Christmas and everything that came with it this year, knowing she would be separated from Maya and Ollie for the first time in their lives. But the view out the windshield loosened the sadness that had settled in Dahlia’s chest when she’d kissed Ollie and Maya goodbye. Her sweet son had taken her cheeks in his chubby hands, tugging her face close to his. I asked Santa to bring you the specialist surprise since we’ll be so far away on Christmas, he’d whispered. I can’t wait, Mama. I’ll bet it’s gonna be so amazing, whatever it is. You’re gonna love it.

  She’d held him tight, silently gagging on the tears she’d refused to let fall. Now they filled her eyes once again, blurring the ice-glazed road in front of her. She’d better slow—

  A form materialized out of nowhere. A man in the middle of the road! She hit the brakes and cranked the wheel, sending the car spinning off the asphalt down a small embankment. White whirled around her—sun and then shade, trees and then sky. The car came to an abrupt stop in a puff of snow, facing the highway.

  Adrenaline pounded through Dahlia’s chest, hammer
ing against her heart. What. The. Heck? The man—who she’d thought might’ve been an apparition—materialized again, sauntering casually toward her car like he had all day to get there. He might’ve been whistling for all she knew.

  Fury stormed through her as she ripped off her seatbelt and threw open the door, barely remembering to cut the engine before she flew out of the rental car.

  “What are you thinking?” she demanded, taking a step toward him. Immediately, her leg sunk into the snow all the way up to her mid-thigh. Letting out a grunt of frustration, she planted her hands onto the snowbank to free herself, but both arms sunk in all the way to her chest. Goldarn it! How was she supposed to give him a proper talking to when she was stuck like this?

  A shadow eased over her and Dahlia craned her head to look up. It was a shame she’d given up on swearing when the children were born.

  “Need some help?” The man wore something between a smirk and a smile. He was clad in flannel, from the trapper’s hat on his head to the heavy coat that made it difficult to tell just how big he really was. Could that all be muscle under there? Or more layers? She hissed in a breath, unable to contemplate anything other than the freezing sting in her hands.

  Seeming to take her silence as a cry for help, the man leaned down and plucked her from the snowbank, hoisting her up into his arms and delivering her to the road with two giant steps. Definitely all muscle.

  “There.” He set her down. “You okay?” He seemed to look her over. “I mean you look good. Really good.” Suddenly he seemed to blush—or was it the cold air freezing him too? And then he cleared his throat. “But it’s best to make sure.”

  Ugh! Was he seriously trying to hit on her right now? The fear and the cold all seemed to converge on her at once. “Of course I’m not okay!” she blurted. “I could’ve hit you! I could’ve hit a tree!” She could’ve died and then what would happen to Ollie and Maya? They’d be stuck with their father!

  “But you didn’t. You’re fine. Your car is fine. Mostly.” The man’s nonchalance ground down against her nerves. He’d almost been hit by a car and was acting like nothing had happened.

  Breathe, she commanded herself. But her ribs seemed to have tightened, and oxygen was harder to come by at this altitude. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Hey, nothing to worry about,” the man said in a reassuring tone. “Spinouts happen all the time up here. No big deal.”

  Dahlia’s jaw hinged open. He took her irritation with him as embarrassment? “Spinouts don’t happen to me.” She was from Minnesota for the love of God. She knew how to drive in the snow. Now that the adrenaline had started to subside, she studied the man’s face. He looked about her age, maybe. It was always hard to tell with men. There was something boyish and playful about his hazel eyes, but the Paul Bunyan jawline and stubble gave him a more rugged appearance. Still, his good-natured smile kept her from checking her pocket for her pepper spray.

  “You weren’t going fast enough to get too far off the road,” the man told her, one corner of his mouth hiked into a sly grin. “You could’ve hit a moose though.” He gestured to their left.

  A massive bull moose stood about twenty feet up the road staring them both down.

  “Oh God.” Dahlia immediately stepped back and sank into the snow again.

  “Easy.” Paul Bunyan clasped her hands in his and pulled her out. “Don’t panic and make any sudden movements. He’s assessing the situation, making sure we’re not a threat.”

  Oh, was that all? “He’s huge.” The whisper scorched her throat. How had she missed that? The moose was massive and imposing and quite possibly angry. Oh, dear God, don’t force my kids to grow up with their father.

  “I was trying to flag you down, so you’d stop in time,” Paul Bunyan commented softly, keeping his eyes on the animal. “But you must’ve not’ve seen me until the last minute.”

  “Um, no.” She didn’t mention that she hadn’t seen him because she’d been crying. Her eyes heated again. This trip had been a huge mistake. She shouldn’t be here. This was crazy. What if something happened to her? Who would make the kids their lunches and get them to their music lessons on time? Who would read them stories before bed and make sure they actually bathed once in a while?

  “What should we do?” she hissed. The moose still stood frozen, every bulging muscle seemingly tensed. Weren’t moose dangerous? She’d always heard you were supposed to stay away from them. “He looks mad.” Panic rose into her throat.

  “He’s not gonna hurt us,” Paul Bunyan insisted.

  As if wanting to refute that statement the moose clomped a few steps closer, tossing his head this way and that. It was a wonder he could even keep that head lifted with all the weight in his rack.

  Dahlia’s lungs pressed out a whimper. “Call 911.”

  The man next to her laughed. He laughed!

  “By the time Timmy got here, the moose would be long gone,” he assured her. Easing closer, he linked her arm through his. “We’re gonna slowly back up. Keep your head down and whatever you do, don’t look him in the eyes.”

  Don’t look him in the eyes? Why? Would he attack? A tremble recoiled through Dahlia’s upper body as she pressed her chin to her chest. Somehow, she managed to stumble backward alongside the man, even with her knees weakening.

  “There he goes.” Paul Bunyan stopped, and Dahlia forced up her head. Sure enough, the moose was sauntering to the other side of the road where he disappeared into a thicket of trees.

  Letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Dahlia propped her hands on her knees to hold herself up. “I can’t believe…what in the…that was a moose.” Walking down the middle of the road. He could’ve flattened her…

  “I see him all the time. I call him Brutus.” Paul Bunyan turned to face her, shielding his eyes from the late-afternoon sun. “You’re not from around here, huh?”

  “I’m from Minneapolis.” They had moose in Minnesota, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d ventured into the North Woods. And she’d never seen one that close up before.

  “So, what brings you to Juniper Springs?” Paul Bunyan started walking in the direction of her car while Dahlia gimped along behind. Her knees apparently couldn’t believe the danger had passed.

  “My aunt.” She tried to sound as breezy as he did. “She’s dying and she asked my sisters and me to come spend one last Christmas with her.” This trip might not be all that uplifting, but it was important. That’s why she had to come here—even if it meant braving icy roads and grumpy bull moose.

  “Three nieces…” The man paused from seeming to assess the damage to her car and gazed back at her. “Are you talking about Sassy?”

  “Yes.” Dahlia quickly closed the distance between them, anxious for any update on her ailing aunt. She’d tried calling Sassy multiple times since receiving the package in the mail, but the woman never answered her phone. Sassy had simply texted Dahlia saying she couldn’t wait to see her. “You know Aunt Sassy?”

  “Everyone knows Sassy.” Paul Bunyan dug a set of keys out of his pocket and pointed them toward a black truck parked on the other side of the road. “Looks like the car is okay, but we’re going to have to dig you out.” Then he added, “Sassy is not dying, by the way.”

  “Yes, she is.” Dahlia followed him to the truck where he pulled out a shovel. “She sent us each a package with our favorite Christmas decoration from when we were young, and specifically asked us to spend one last Christmas with her.” That’s what Dahlia had been preparing for all week—nursing her aunt through some terrible illness, making herself useful.

  The news didn’t seem to ruffle Mr. Bunyan any. He simply crossed the road back to her car, toting the shovel along with him. “I’m Sassy’s doctor,” he said, shoveling the snow away from the wheels. “Pretty sure I’d know if she was dying.”

  “You’re a doctor?” Normally she didn’t resort to categorizing people, but she would’ve pegged Paul Bunyan as a lumbe
rjack or a forest ranger. Definitely not a doctor.

  Her surprise reinstated his grin. “That’s right. I’m a doctor.” He stuck out his hand. “Ike Songer and you are?”

  “Dahlia.” She straightened her shoulders. Just last week she’d done a presentation for the entire PTA at the school, and there hadn’t been one internal flutter, but now butterflies were beating their wings against her ribs.

  “Nice to meet you, Dahlia.” A grin lit his eyes. “I should’ve known you were related to Sassy. You have her eyes.”

  Well, he would know being her aunt’s doctor and all. She did her best to ignore his captivating grin. She recognized a charmer when she saw one. Heck, she’d been married to one. “There must be some mistake.” Dahlia steered the conversation back to her aunt. “Sassy is dying. Maybe she hasn’t told you. Maybe she doesn’t want anyone around here to know.” That was the only explanation.

  “I’m telling you, she’s not dying.” Dr. Ike stomped through the deep snow to the back tires of her rental and started to shovel. “She was in the office not three weeks ago for a full-on physical. Your aunt is as healthy as that bull moose.”

  “That’s impossible. Why would she ask us to come out here for one last Christmas then?”

  The man shook his head in amusement. “Knowing Sassy, she has her reasons.” He slipped off the thick flannel coat he wore and wrapped it around Dahlia’s shoulders as though he could tell she was chilled. “Let me tow your car out of the snowbank and you can ask her yourself.”

  Chapter Six

  Magnolia

  By now she should have learned chocolate couldn’t fix everything, but that sure didn’t stop her from trying.

  Dusting brownie crumbs off her hands, Magnolia scrambled out of the rocking chair she and Eric had bought for the baby almost two years ago when they’d first started trying to get pregnant. She’d thought it would be so easy, that she’d go off the pill and within a couple of months she’d be glowing and rounder. She stood in the center of the baby’s room now staring at the furniture she’d found on clearance at Target. It had all seemed so serendipitous when she’d bought the crib and changing table and matching plush chair. Eric hadn’t been exactly thrilled with the purchase, but like she told him—it had been an incredible bargain and they would need it eventually.