A Christmas to Remember

by Jenny Hale

  “What would be the last possible date to get it through?” he asked the man on the other end as he looked in the mirror, his eyebrows going up in surprise at the sight of his reflection. “How soon would you know?” He wiped at his upper lip, but the paint had dried and wasn’t coming off. He licked his finger and rubbed. “Mm hmm…” The mark finally came off, and he started working on the one on his forehead as Carrie realized that she was standing there for no reason. He could clearly clean his own face, and he had everything he needed. So, with a grin in his direction, she left him in the office and went to check on the children, but as she left, she couldn’t stop the happiness from rising up, knowing that they’d just had another of their little moments.

  Chapter Twelve

  Avoid the people who make you feel insecure. How was she supposed to do that? David started toward the door when the doorbell rang, so Carrie followed. She knew who was on the other side of it, and it made her legs feel like spaghetti. She’d been talking to Walter about nothing in particular when the bell had sounded. Having Adam’s family around wasn’t bothersome in the slightest, and having Walter there was particularly lovely. He made her feel like she was home. With a shuffling sound, he followed behind David and Carrie. David grabbed the knob and opened it, sending a burst of cold air toward them.

  On the landing outside stood a beautiful redhead. Her hair was long, well past her shoulders, but layered, each section like an ocean wave, shiny and soft. Covering her flawlessly blushed cheeks, she had on large sunglasses with a logo on the side that Carrie recognized but couldn’t place. Her trousers were pressed and her coat was so fitted that it didn’t look like a coat at all but a fashion piece, some sort of giant accessory designed to show off the color of an oversized beaded necklace and her tiny waist. Her feet wobbled just slightly in the snow, and Carrie realized that she’d managed to get through the wintery slush in heels that probably gave her an extra six inches of height. The woman looked first at Carrie and Walter and then down at David and smiled, her berry-colored lips revealing straight, white teeth.

  “Hello,” she said, holding a gloved hand out to David. “I’m Andy.”

  David reached out and shook her hand, his shoulders squared. Carrie smiled despite her nervousness as she watched him trying to be a big boy in Andy’s presence. He stepped aside to allow her to enter. Once Andy got inside the door, Carrie realized that she was quite tall, nearly as tall as Adam, towering over Carrie’s petite frame and making her feel small.

  “Hi,” she said, holding out her hand in greeting to Carrie and offering a warm smile. “I’m Andy. I work with Adam.”

  “Hello,” Carrie said, nodding politely and returning her handshake. “I’m Carrie, the nanny. Adam’s in the office. I’ll just go and get him for you. Can I get your coat first?”

  Carrie felt like some sort of butler. She was already an outsider, but seeing this new facet of Adam’s life, this person he knew well enough to have drinks with into the night, made her feel even more isolated. She looked over at Walter to keep her nerves at bay. He smiled at her; it was an encouraging smile, the same kind her mother used to give her on the first day of school when she was a child, when she had to face a brand new teacher and a room full of strangers. It was as if he were trying to pass off a little strength with his eyes.

  “Hi, Andy,” she heard Adam say from behind her just as Andy was handing her coat over. She didn’t want to turn around. What if Adam was looking at Andy the way he’d looked at her? What if all those moments they’d had weren’t really significant at all? She didn’t want to see his smile, that vulnerability, or the way he looked like he was thinking about something more when he looked at her. She didn’t want to look at him because she wanted to pretend for just a bit longer, that he only looked at her like that. She didn’t want to acknowledge the obvious: that Adam would be much better suited for someone like Andy. Andy knew his business, she understood the importance of his work, she was polished and clearly secure with herself. “I see you’ve met Carrie,” he said, and she had to make eye contact. His face was pleasant and calm just like one would be with someone they knew quite well. “Carrie is our new nanny.”

  Adam had moved on, introducing Walter and talking to David.

  “I’ve got the latest offer back from Robert on Building C, and I’d like to share with you our options,” he said, walking with her toward the office and leaving Carrie behind. She wanted to say something more, something relevant, intelligent, but as she looked at the two of them walking down the hallway, Andy tipping her head back and producing a laugh at something he’d said, she’d lost her chance.

  David had run off, leaving Walter and Carrie alone in the entryway. “Andy’s quite nice,” Walter said, grabbing her arm and leading her toward the living room. Carrie nodded, feeling out of sorts. Every time she had a tiny success with Adam, something came along and knocked her two steps backward. What she knew deep down was that she’d always have things get in her way when it came to Adam because his world was so different from hers.

  “And very pretty,” Walter said, adding salt to her wounds. They sat down on the sofa together. “But I wonder how well she can throw a football?” he said with a devious smile. Carrie laughed. Walter had a way of making things funny, no matter what the circumstance. The mental picture of Andy with a football in her manicured hands made her giggle. Leave it to Walter to find the one thing, without even realizing it, that Carrie knew she could probably do better than Andy.

  “The snow has started to subside finally,” Bruce said as he peered out the kitchen window. “The roads look like they’ve been plowed. Makes me feel better about Adam’s friend, Andy, getting around. I worried this afternoon when she left.” Carrie nodded. Despite her anxiety about Andy, she was unable to ignore the buttery smells coming from the oven. It was interesting to her how Adam’s parents felt so much at home in this giant house—they cooked, played games, drank beer—they felt comfortable enough even in Adam’s absence. The way his parents behaved seemed so relaxed and easy, yet Adam had done nothing—that she’d seen—to make them that comfortable. It was as if Adam didn’t fit with them. He was serious, withdrawn, always focused on work, but his parents were the complete opposite.

  If she had to choose one person who she thought was most like Adam, it would be his sister, Sharon. She was quiet like him, and seemed to enjoy being alone. She’d spent a lot of time in her room upstairs, and, even during the card games, she seemed content being silent. Something told her that Sharon had more going on than Carrie had seen. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she was usually right about people. Carrie had a sense about them—something about the way they carried themselves, the way they responded to people. She could usually determine what was wrong in a short period of time, and she was almost always right.

  Sharon was sitting at the table with Olivia and David, drawing a picture. Carrie sat down beside them. Sharon was extremely thin, almost boney, and she always seemed to close in on herself—her arms crossed, her shoulders hunching slightly forward, as if she wanted to crawl into a ball and hide. She was so completely different than Joyce and Bruce. Even Adam had an affectionate side to him. Sharon didn’t have that same look in her eyes. She had a look of… Disappointment, maybe? Carrie couldn’t tell, but there was something there.

  Sharon’s husband, Eric, came in and sat down beside her. At supper the other night, he’d participated in the conversations, smiled, played cards, but he seemed to always have his eye on Sharon as if protecting her from something. Whenever she’d stood, Eric would give a tiny lurch forward as if he were going to catch her. Eric had stayed downstairs after supper last night, but Sharon had gone up early, and today was the first time Carrie had had a chance to really be with her. She tried to see if Sharon showed any signs that she could be suffering from some sort of illness or something, but her skin was rosy, her hair healthy—there was no outward sign, except for her tired eyes.

  “Can you make a dress for her?” Olivia aske
d Sharon, pointing to a drawing of a circle with legs. For the first time since she’d seen her, Sharon’s eyes had life. She smiled, affection for her niece seeping out from every bit of her face, taking Carrie completely by surprise. She’d always been good at assessing situations, but this one she hadn’t anticipated. There was something about Olivia that could light Sharon right up. As she thought back, this was the first time Olivia had been awake when Sharon was around, so she hadn’t seen her interact with children, but her face was brighter when she talked to Olivia. Then, as Sharon looked back down at the paper, her face fell into its neutral position, the withdrawn look returning. It was the oddest thing.

  “So, Carrie, did Adam say if he was coming out of the office today?” Bruce asked. Carrie shook her head. Andy had left after a few hours, and Adam had been in the office ever since. The coffee pot beeped and Bruce got up to get a cup. The massive kitchen had deep cranberry-colored walls and stainless steel appliances, giving the room a formal look, but with everyone in it, it seemed cozy. Olivia offered David a brown crayon.

  “I don’t know why he can’t take a few minutes and be with us,” Bruce said under his breath. He was clearly trying to hide his irritation, but it came out against his will. He poured a cup of coffee and looked back out the window. Carrie understood Bruce’s feelings completely. He was more annoyed by Adam’s absence than he let on, but he held his tongue. Carrie could imagine Bruce’s pride at the fact that his son was so successful, had a home worth millions, owned his own business, but at what cost? His family was very accommodating of his working, and she understood that Adam was an adult and could make his own choices, but he needed someone to stand up and tell him what they thought.

  There had to be a book on workaholics, Carrie thought. She decided that she’d find one for her next purchase. As good a man as Adam seemed to be, and as lovely as his family was, she found his absence confusing. She understood that it took a lot to run a business, but why, as smart as he clearly was, couldn’t he figure out a way to balance it all? Was there some reason he didn’t want to?

  Bruce and Eric left the room to join Walter, and Carrie heard the click of the widescreen television. Sports highlights, it sounded like. The three women and the children were left in the kitchen. As Carrie watched Sharon with the kids and Joyce chopping apples at the island in the kitchen, she wondered why she was even there. Why had Adam hired her when he clearly had an entire family who was willing to watch them? As she thought about it, she began to feel out of place, and she wished she could be with her own family on Christmas. A snowplow grumbled down the street outside.

  Adam came into the kitchen, and she immediately felt the heat on her neck from nerves. He’d changed and had on jeans and a navy blue sweater. She almost had to look away before her hands started shaking. He was so attractive that she felt like she’d fall apart just looking in his direction.

  “I heard the snowplow, and Andy said it’s been down the main roads. I’m going to go into work,” he said to Joyce, but he glanced in Carrie’s direction. Why did he look at her? Could he sense how he made her feel? Did he know how much it bothered her that he was never around? “I shouldn’t be too late, but don’t feel like you have to save me a spot at the table.” He walked over to David and Olivia who were watching him with interest. “Bye, kids. See you… in the morning.”

  A pinch took hold of Carrie’s chest as she watched the exchange. He didn’t plan to be home until after their bedtime, and the kids wouldn’t see their daddy until the next day. She worried for them. Did they think he was choosing work over them again? Certainly they must. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and look straight into his eyes. It’s been snowing like crazy! Take one little day off! Don’t go to work, she wanted to say. As she was mentally pleading with him not to go to work, she caught sight of Sharon, whose eyes were on Adam, her gaze like daggers.

  Carrie understood that look. She had only known Adam a short time, but her irritation with him was quite strong, so she could only imagine what Sharon felt if she’d been dealing with this for years. Carrie looked at the faces of the children, and she could feel the sting of anger—she wanted to scream at him, but even if she knew him as well as Sharon, her manners made her think better of it. Even though he made her so nervous, there was a part of her—the part who knew without a doubt what he needed—that wanted to stand up to him, look him in the eye, and tell him not to be so selfish, to stay at home with his kids just for one day.

  “I wish we could paint some more, Daddy,” Olivia said, coloring haphazard streaks across her paper with a purple crayon.

  Carrie could feel the tension in the air. Joyce’s artificial smile, Olivia’s request, Sharon’s look—it all put a heaviness in the room. The only one who hadn’t added to the moment was David, but even he was looking down at his paper, a disappointed look on his face. He colored slowly back and forth, and she wondered what was going through his little mind. The anger was nearly boiling under her skin. Didn’t Adam realize what he was doing? How rude could one person be? This was so much bigger than her wish for him to spend more time with his kids. This was clearly a family that had dealt with it for much longer than she had. It wasn’t just his kids he was letting down but his grandfather, his parents, and his sister. What concerned her most was Sharon’s look of disapproval—it wasn’t hurt or disappointment, it was anger. What was going on between those two?

  “Andy’s waiting at the office. We have some things that have to get done. I have to go,” he said, but he looked at Sharon as he said it. That look Carrie had seen in his eyes—that moment of consideration, of deliberation—she saw it just then. He knew he needed to stay, she was nearly certain, but he wasn’t going to. He was choosing work. She could feel the wetness in her palms from the anxiety that his leaving was causing. She worried for the kids, and for Sharon. There was something on Sharon’s face that made her believe that the anger was rooted deep, and she wished that she could ask about it, help her through whatever it was.

  Without any further discussion, Adam walked out of the room. A second later, she heard the door to the garage shut. In the silence, as the children continued to color, Joyce wiping the counters, and Sharon twisting her fingers in her lap, Carrie heard the rumble of the car engine. The sound hit her like a smack, and she could feel an ache in her chest. Carrie looked at Sharon protectively, wanting to ease whatever was going on in her head. She stopped breathing for a second at the sight of her. Sharon was sitting at the table, turned away from the children, tears sheeting down her face. She was chewing her lip as if it would help stop the tears, but the rims of her eyes were blood red and her face was crumpling under the weight of whatever had caused her sadness. She got up and left the room.

  “I’ll be right back…” Joyce said, her words trailing behind her as she lumped the rag on the counter and rushed off after Sharon.

  The whole situation made Carrie uneasy, her stomach burning with apprehension. Something more had caused this than just Adam going to work. She sat down next to the children and watched them color, but her mind was elsewhere. She worried for Sharon, and she wondered what was causing such an avalanche of emotion.

  “Was Aunt Sharon mad at Daddy?” Olivia asked, still looking down at her paper. She’d drawn a rainbow in the corner of her page, each color one single arched line.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.

  Children, she believed, were no different from adults in understanding emotions and social situations. They were just less experienced with the world. They knew when things weren’t right, and they could tell when adults spoke over them, so Carrie was always careful about that. It was clear that Olivia sensed the tension in the air, even if she hadn’t seen Sharon’s tears. She knew that Joyce’s quick exit after Sharon wasn’t a normal response. Little Olivia just needed help processing what the meaning behind it was, and Carrie couldn’t help her with that.

  Just then, Eric came into the kitchen. “Where’s Sharon?” he asked.
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br />   “She went upstairs, I think. With Joyce.” Then, in a miming fashion behind the children she mouthed, “She was crying,” while dragging her finger down her cheek.

  Confusion clouded his face, and he nodded. Whatever the reason for his visit to the kitchen, she wouldn’t know because he left the room and headed upstairs after his wife.

  “It looks like the other grown-ups in the house have some things to work out,” she said carefully to Olivia. “I’m nearly sure that your daddy’s handprints are dry on the canvas. We need to finish that project. By then it’ll be lunchtime. Why don’t we head over to the playroom and we can do a little more painting?”

  The children climbed off their chairs and ran toward the playroom. As Carrie followed them, she pictured Adam’s empty office, and she wished he was in there. On the outside, he seemed like a selfish workaholic who didn’t care about anyone—and she wondered if Sharon thought that about her own brother—but there was something about him that told her otherwise. Maybe it was the way his lips pressed together just before he huffed out that little laugh of his, or the way his eyes showed affection and consideration behind them sometimes. Maybe it was the way he’d looked with paint on his face. She was having trouble pinpointing what it was because it was whole bunch of tiny things that when she put them together, gave her a picture of him that was so much more than what he was showing everyone.