A Christmas to Remember

by Jenny Hale

  As Olivia ran off to find the others, grabbing David by his arm and whisking him down the hallway, Carrie turned back toward the door. She took in a breath to steady herself. She’d never pressed him when he was actually working, when he was in the middle of something important. There he was, talking heatedly to someone, and she was about to interrupt him to show him a fort made of blankets. It sounded ridiculous even to her, but she knew better. It wasn’t about the fort. It was about him being present in the lives of his children, showing them that he cared about what they were doing. She just hoped that she could make him see it. She tiptoed in and sat in the chair opposite the desk.

  He kept talking, but his eyes were on her, a crease forming between his brows. “Get me the figures. I won’t make a decision until I can see it on paper,” he said, a curious expression on his face as he watched her. The sight of it made her stomach flutter. “Once I have the report, I’ll send it to Andy.” Instantly, the flutters wilted into nothing. There was Andy’s name again, mocking her, reminding her of all the moments the two of them shared. He was with her every day and most evenings. What was Andy’s personality like? Did she make him laugh? Carrie thought back to the time she’d made him laugh in the garage when she’d asked for the beer that she’d offered his family. The way his eyes creased at the edges, how he’d grinned at her once the laugh had dissipated, it was like the feeling she got sleeping in her own bed after being away. He made her feel comforted, protected. She hadn’t met anyone else in her adult life who could make her feel that way.

  She mouthed, “The kids need to show you something.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to say there was nothing he could do. She pursed her lips, thinking, and then whispered, “Call him back?”

  He took in a breath and let it out. “Mm hm,” he said, allowing his gaze to move away from her. His body language was telling her that he wasn’t interested in what she had to say. He was busy, and she was in the way. He was looking down, but it was clear that he wasn’t processing what he was seeing. She could feel the invisible clock ticking. Olivia had probably gotten the whole family together already, and she was still sitting there with Adam. Come on, Adam, she thought. She leaned into his line of vision and mouthed, “Please?”

  “Chuck, I’m so sorry,” he said suddenly, and she felt lightheaded. “I think I’m going to have to call you back. When’s your flight?” She tried to decipher his expression, and she couldn’t. She didn’t know him well enough just yet. It was just enough to make her skin prickle with anxiety. She waited the agonizingly long time for Adam to talk again. “I’m aware of that. If I don’t catch you before you leave, I’ll see if I can’t get you first thing in the morning.” More silence. “Thanks.” He hung up the phone.

  “You have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under,” he said, turning toward Carrie. His lips were pressed together, his head turned slightly to the side. He hardly had to move to make his expression intimidating. At that moment, she realized what it must feel like to be on the opposite side of Adam Fletcher in business. It wasn’t a good place to be. “No one seems to understand what it takes to run this thing. It has to be a priority, and no one appreciates that priority. Why do you need me right now?”

  She felt ridiculous even saying it. She felt like she’d overstepped the line more than she ever had. She’d just interrupted a very important call to show him something that the kids made. She knew the fort was important, but she worried that Adam would see it as trivial. “The kids made a fort,” she said.

  He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, his eyes confirming all of her fears.

  “But I don’t want you to see the fort,” she said quickly before he could throw her out. “I want you to show David and Olivia that, just like your business, what they’ve made using their time and their hands is important and a priority.”

  His shoulders fell just a little, and she could see that contemplative look pushing out the irritation. He stood up and walked around the desk, his gaze on her in a reluctant but surrendering way. If he hadn’t been raised with manners, he may have rolled his eyes. Yet still, Carrie wanted to yelp and clap her hands, throw her arms around him and tell him what a great thing it was for him to do this, but she kept her composure. This was a teaching moment like any other she’d had with children. If he was going to learn how to be a father, she couldn’t distract him with her own excitement.

  “I need you to trust me. When you get to the playroom, I want you to crawl into the fort and play with them. No questions,” she said. He shook his head as if he were annoyed, but she knew he was lightening up. As they neared the door, she looked up at him. “Adam. This is very important for your kids. They made a fort, and they don’t believe that you’ll get in. I’m nearly certain of it. So, please, get in for them.”

  Adam knew a lot about life that Carrie hadn’t experienced yet. She kept thinking about all the things he’d experienced: He knew what it was like to be married to someone, the feel of that relationship crumbling, he knew what it felt like to pay a mortgage and be rooted in one place. But when it came to his relationship with his kids, Carrie knew that she had the most knowledge on the subject, and she felt as though he knew it too. Being able to help Adam balanced her feelings of inadequacy a little. It made her feel like she was doing something right, something just as important as that big phone call he’d just ended. “Are you going to get in?” she pressed.

  “I’ll get in,” he said. She wanted him to want to, but she knew that it would take many baby steps to get him to understand. He was getting in. Right now, that’s all that mattered.

  He pushed the playroom door open and stopped. The entire family was there—they’d even helped Walter to get there. For a second that felt longer than an hour, no one spoke. The kids were inside, and Carrie could see the beam from David’s flashlight. Sharon looked at Carrie first and then at Adam, her face neutral of any emotion. Everyone else just looked expectant—as if they were waiting for Adam to give a speech or something. Everyone except Joyce. Carrie was surprised to find her looking straight at her, a small smile hiding behind her eyes. Adam raised a hand in greeting. Then, without prompting, he walked past the family and got down on his hands and knees. He lifted the sheet up and put his head in. Olivia let out a squeal so loud it startled Carrie. The squeal transformed into a bunch of giggles.

  “May I come in?” Adam asked her.

  Carrie couldn’t see the exchange, but the sheets began to move, and she heard David say, “Scoot over, Olivia, and give him room.”

  Adam wriggled his way inside the fort. Under the beam of light from David’s flashlight, she could make out Adam’s shadow. He was sitting cross-legged, his shoulders hunched over to help him fit under the art table. Joyce was standing beside Carrie as she watched, her hand covering the smile on her face, and even though Carrie wasn’t a mother, she’d felt those same feelings enough to know what Joyce was thinking: He got in. He’s with his kids. How wonderful. Carrie felt it too. There was something so attractive about watching a man with his children—it was different than watching a woman with them. Even though she could only see his silhouette, she watched how his movements had become more gentle around them, how still he was as he listened to them. To see someone—who was such a strong businessman, who didn’t waver when making decisions, who could direct whole teams of people—to see him change before her eyes into this tender, soothing person made her heart patter. Joyce motioned to the others to follow her out of the room, and as Carrie complied with them, Joyce put up her hand as if to tell her to stay. “Help him,” she whispered, nodding toward the fort.

  Carrie watched his shadow, wondering what the kids would ask him, how he would talk to them. She wondered if David would ask him to help build something like he always asked Carrie to do, or if Olivia would dress him up in her dress-up accessories. The thought warmed her. This part would be easy. Now that she’d gotten him here, even if it was only fifteen minutes, she could easily show him what to do. He was going
to play with the kids, and they would never forget it, she was certain. Spending time with them would tell them how much he thought of them, how much he cared.

  They were all turning to go, and Joyce was assisting Walter with his walker, as Olivia asked from inside the fort, “Will you stay and play with us, Daddy?”

  “I can’t,” she heard him say gently. “I have to finish my work. But you two have fun, okay?”

  Carrie’s heart fell. She knew what kind of pressure he was under to get his work done, but she’d hoped, watching him, that he’d stay and play, seize the moment.

  “Okay,” Olivia said quietly.

  “Bye, Daddy,” David called as Adam lifted the sheet and crawled out. Sharon shook her head at him. She spun around and darted out of the room. Eric and Joyce followed her.

  Carrie’s hopes for that moment had just come tumbling down around her. She wondered which was worse: him just not being there at all, or being there and then letting them down. The kids were disappointed; she could tell by their voices. And it had been all her fault. She should have left him in his office. The kids had been so excited about the fort—she should have left well enough alone. The splotches were beginning to crawl up her neck as Adam approached her.

  Bruce started to help Walter get to the door, but Walter stopped and hobbled over to Adam. He grabbed Adam’s arm and went with him to the door. Unprompted, Walter guided him just out of earshot of the children, put his quivering hand on Adam’s shoulder, and said with a smile, “Do you know what I used to love to watch you do?” Adam shook his head. “When you were seven, and you came to visit me and your Grandma,” he looked up at the ceiling and smiled again, his bushy eyebrows going up, creating long creases on his forehead, “you used to make forts like that,” he pointed toward the children, “in my back woods. Do you remember? You’d stay out there all day until dark. You’ve always been a builder of things. You built the model train village with your dad at twelve, you built your first home brewery using that kit in college, and now you’re building a business. I’m proud of ya, son. I just wish you’d work on building one more thing for me.” That pensive look sheeted over Adam’s face, the skin between his eyes wrinkling. “Build your family,” Walter said. “The fort’s gone now. So’s the home brewery and the village. It will all go. But family stays.”

  Carrie felt as if she were intruding by listening, so she took a step back. Walter’s words had caused a storm of thoughts to flood her mind: she thought about how right he was, and it made her feel inadequate again and lonely. Certainly, Adam needed some help making his family, but he had a family. Carrie had never married, she had no children, nothing to build. Was she wasting her skills on others when she should just quit and focus on herself a while? She pondered that question all the time, but she didn’t know where to go or what to do. There was no clear path to follow.

  The buzz of a rev-up car came from inside the fort. Adam stood very quietly as he took in Walter’s suggestion. His only movement was when he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He seemed to be thinking—it always showed on his face. Finally, he said, “I’m working on a deal that will more than triple our distribution on the East Coast,” Adam said. “It’s a game-changer. I’m the only one who can facilitate it. I know that sounds heartless, but I am up against a wall here.”

  The edges of Walter’s lips turned upward into a knowing grin, his eyes showing wisdom beyond any Carrie could imagine. “No one’s doubting that you can make it happen. But more isn’t always better, young man. Now, I’m going down to your lovely, gigantic kitchen so that I can sit at the table and play solitaire the same way I do in my kitchenette at home. Bruce, do you mind walking with me?” After they left, Carrie caught Adam take one last glance at the fort before departing himself, leaving her feeling sad for him and his children, lonely for herself, and altogether confused about how she could possibly fix it all. It seemed no matter what she did, she just couldn’t get through to Adam, and as her time with the Fletcher family slipped away, she knew she wouldn’t be staying longer to help him figure it all out. In a month’s time, she’d be applying to the university back home, taking classes. Her stomach churned with the thought of it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Make every moment count. Carrie and the children had many wonderful moments together in the fort they’d built. That night, after the kids had been put to bed, she walked into the playroom to clean up. They’d spent hours in the fort. David had added a few more sections and Olivia had decorated the inside. It was mostly empty now—just sheets, blankets, and toys—but she could almost hear the laughter and the voices of the kids as they’d played. David had been a pirate on his ship at sea and Olivia had been a Mommy, taking care of her baby. The doll was still inside the fort, covered in a small toy blanket. Instead of cleaning up, Carrie crawled inside.

  The blankets were thick enough and the room dark enough that the light from the room barely penetrated the space, so she clicked on David’s flashlight. As she sat cross-legged, her head at an odd angle because of the height of the art table she was under, she felt the irritation and frustration coming back. Adam had real demands of his work, but he had a family too. He couldn’t just not do the job—she understood—but he couldn’t just not raise his children either. They were only with him a short time, and then they’d be back with their mother. It all made her feel helpless, more helpless than she felt about her own life. For her, it was just a matter of doing something else and finding her way. This job would end, and she could take a different path in life. But with Adam, this was something he’d built and worked very hard to achieve. She couldn’t expect him to just give it up. He had a huge house to pay for, bills, children to support. A hopeless feeling snaked through her chest.

  A book on workaholics would offer suggestions on how to get the person to stop working so much. That wouldn’t help. A book about balancing family and work certainly couldn’t address the problem of having a career that demanded more than someone could offer. The more she thought about it, the more Carrie realized that Adam’s problem wasn’t an issue of choice, it was an issue of time. He only had twenty-four hours in the day, and that wasn’t enough time to get it all done. He wasn’t being standoffish or heartless; he wanted to be able to do it all, she could tell, but he just couldn’t. What bothered her was that he didn’t realize that having children who didn’t know their father was worse than having to give a little at work. As the thoughts went around in her head, confusion mixed with anger. Almost every time she put him in the path of his children, it backfired. She felt like she couldn’t be what the children needed her to be because she’d always been able to make the children she cared for happy and well behaved. She’d never faced an obstacle like this one, and it tortured her that she couldn’t find an answer. She wanted to be angry with someone—at him—but she couldn’t.

  The side of the sheet went up beside her, startling her. When she saw who it was, she took in a sharp breath, her heart going wild. Carrie hadn’t expected to see anyone in the playroom—the family was all downstairs and Adam had been in his office until this very minute when his head poked through the opening in the fort. To her surprise, he crawled in beside her. On a regular day, he had such an authoritative presence that it was almost intimidating, but when he let down his guard, there was a realness to him that she loved. She ached for him to talk in a soft voice like he did with the children, that curiosity in his eyes, that smile on his lips. She wondered what he looked like asleep with his eyes closed, when he was the most vulnerable, when there was nothing pulling on him, nothing consuming his time.

  The beam from the flashlight hit his face in a harsh way, showing the exhaustion on his forehead and under his eyes. He had on a sweater that made his eyes more blue, jeans, and socks—one was inside out, and Carrie had to swallow her smile. This gorgeous, wealthy man, who worked at a job she probably didn’t even understand, had put his sock on inside out just like she probably would if she were in a rush. Even though
his inattention to his family made her crazy, something as simple as that could make her smile. She tried to hide it, but she knew that her emotions were showing on her face. The heat of the splotches began to tickle her neck, and she felt her breathing speed up as a result. Her pulse was up in her ears, and she couldn’t get a breath.

  He looked at her curiously, his eyebrows furrowing just a little, and in a different way than they did when he was working, as if he were responding to her smile, which he hadn’t ever done before. It was clear that he was thinking something, like something was registering, but he wouldn’t let it show.

  “What are you doing in here?” he asked. His gaze roamed around her face. It made her feel anxious. She didn’t know how to be anything more than a nanny—she wasn’t practiced, she hadn’t read up on it at all. She didn’t know how to respond to a look like that with anything more than utter confusion. She didn’t know how to be charming and flirty, even though when he looked at her like that, she wanted to know how. She’d have to go with her gut, and it scared her. There was a part of her that thought she wasn’t good enough to catch the eye of someone like Adam Fletcher. She worried that she was misreading him, but he had definitely responded to her smile, and it was clear by the softness in his eyes that he was trying to ease her nerves. What he didn’t realize was that by looking at her like that it was making them worse.

  “I was…” What should she say? She was thinking about him. How could she explain herself? “I was…” Ugh! she thought. He got her so flustered that she couldn’t even get a lie right! She could be doing anything: picking up the toys, looking for an earring, getting the flashlight… But, when he looked at her, she couldn’t get a coherent string of words together.