by Marina Adair
His brothers had come at him, proof of betrayal in hand, emotions on high. He’d listened and then reacted. Not because he thought she was guilty—deep down he knew Regan would never take money she didn’t earn—but because she scared the shit out of him. He didn’t know what to do with a woman who didn’t need him, didn’t want him fixing her life.
So he did what any moron would do: he created a problem. Only this time he wasn’t so sure he could fix his way out of it.
“This is what happens when a nineteen-year-old is pregnant and alone. I had no way to take care of Holly. No one would hire me. Then Richard showed up saying he wanted to do the right thing. So when he opened an account in Holly’s name to help pay for diapers and formula, I didn’t ask questions.”
“It was a Swiss account,” Marc accused. “Who the hell opens a Swiss account?”
“It had less than a thousand dollars in it. And he’s Italian,” she defended. “I had no idea what he was doing until I got a call from the bank asking why I had closed out the account. I assumed Abby had finally kicked him out and he’d taken back the money. But when I got the statement showing that twelve million dollars had been deposited and withdrawn only minutes apart, I knew that Richard had played me.”
“Then why didn’t you tell anyone?” Abby accused.
“When the police showed up asking questions about him, I told them everything. At first they saw exactly what Richard had hoped for: the daughter of an illegal immigrant and a teen mother with no job. Thankfully they were smart enough to actually check with Interpol and verify that I hadn’t made the transaction.” She shot a look at Gabe.
“They cut us out of the investigation. I only knew that the money was gone and Abby was a suspect. I had no idea who they had talked to or who they cleared,” Gabe said.
“Yeah, well, neither did I. I didn’t know whose money it was until recently.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the other day...” In my bed, when I was holding you and spilling my guts about how I’d let down my family.
“You mean confide in the guy who ruined six years of my life for accidently sleeping with his brother-in-law?” She laughed mercilessly.
“Finding this account has changed the entire direction of our investigation,” Gabe said, needing her to understand just what this meant to his family. “It actually led us to another account Richard had set up for Holly in the Cayman Islands. Now we have a lead, a real chance at catching the bastard.”
“You people really can’t see past your family, can you?” Regan choked out. “All I want is to keep my daughter safe.”
He took a step forward, needing to touch her, make this right. “Regan, I wouldn’t have—”
This time she stopped him. “Don’t go there, Gabe. You already did and you’d do it again. You would do anything to protect your family.” Her eyes went wide and her lips parted on a breath. “Oh, my God.”
She took a step back.
Then another.
“You were asking Holly about Richard.” Her hand covered her mouth and his chest hollowed out as he saw her put everything together. “You came to my house to ask me about Richard, not to help me move. From day one you’ve been asking about Richard. Even when we were...”
She glanced around, as if suddenly remembering that his entire family and a few PTA parents were in the hall, listening to everything. Her face flushed with humiliation.
She dropped her head, and Gabe for the first time saw a glimmer of that little girl who had been teased and discarded and forced to stand on her own—apart from everyone else. Except that when she looked up, he realized that she no longer had a floor to stand on, he’d ripped it out from under her.
“I’m such an idiot,” she said heartbreakingly soft. “You slept with me because...” She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I let you in my house, around Holly, trusted you with my heart, and the whole time...”
Now it was his turn to explain. Only this time he was guilty of everything she had accused him of.
“It started out that way.” He took a step closer, and she backed farther away. “But then I got to know you, and in the end—”
“In the end”—her big blue eyes darkened with sorrow—“you were a jerk just like everyone else. And you want to know the worst part?”
No, he didn’t want to know anything else.
“I really thought this year”—her breath caught—“that this year was going to be a perfect Christmas.”
“Regan, wait.” He grabbed her arm when she turned to leave. “I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”
She looked at him for a long time, the tears finally spilling over her pretty lashes. She opened her mouth and took a thorough inventory of his family. Holly came out of the dressing room then, dragging an apologetic ChiChi with her.
Regan looked back at Gabe and shook her head, sad and slow. “It’s not enough this time.”
With an angry swipe at her cheeks, she pulled herself together for Holly, her strength amazing to witness. Then she met her daughter halfway, hugging her tightly and congratulating her on her part in the musical before clasping her hand and heading toward the exit.
At the doorway Holly paused and turned, looking at him with confusion. Forcing himself to stand there and let them walk around the corner and out of sight was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.
ChiChi rushed over, demanding to know what was going on. Nate and Trey were trying to explain the events. Marc was apologizing for not digging deeper to get the whole story. And Abby was tugging on his sleeve, asking him if he was okay. None of it mattered.
All he heard was the slamming of the metal theater doors in the distance. Gabe couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t acted in the best interest of his family. Even when it was the hard choice, he always chose family. So then why did his chest feel like it had been gutted?
Oh, shit. He looked from his family and then to the empty hallway.
Oh, shit. His breath came in fast, panicked bursts. The reality of what he had just done crashed in on him. Sure, part of his family was standing next to him, loud and bickering and trying to figure out what had just happened. But the other part, the part of his family that he didn’t even know he possessed, had just walked out the door.
“I love her.” When no one stopped yelling, he looked his family square in the eye. “I. Love. Her.”
The hall fell uncomfortably silent. All five sets of eyes that were the exact image of his father’s looked back at him. The only set that was smiling was ChiChi’s.
“I love her,” he said again, this time just to hear how it sounded. It sounded right.
“There are a lot of emotions going on right now. Let’s take a step back and think this through,” practical, level-headed Nate said, making Gabe want to shove him through the wall.
“Listen.” Gabe waited for silence. He was only going to say this once. “I love Regan and Holly with everything that I am, and I will do whatever I have to do to win her back.” He turned to Abby and took her hands in his. “I love you and I am sorry I allowed that bastard in our lives. But I can’t keep punishing myself or Regan. So if it will be too hard on you to see us together, tell me now.”
Abby blinked, sending tears down her cheeks. “You’d still ask her to leave?”
“No, I’d go with her. I’m not willing to give up Regan, but I also don’t want Holly growing up in a place where Regan is an outcast. Understand?” Abby nodded, her mouth quivering. “So if you can’t let this go, tell me now and I’ll leave.”
“Who the hell would run the business?” Marc asked, his kid brother not looking so cocky anymore.
He looked at his family. “I guess one of you would have to figure it out. But wherever my girls go, I’m going. So if you want me around, then we’d better figure out a way to make Regan stay.”
“Mommy, wake up.”
Regan felt little hands poke her shoulder. Careful not to move for fear that her head would explode, she opened her ey
es and immediately slammed them shut. They were puffy and irritated, and the blinking lights overhead felt like lasers piercing her retinas.
Regan opened her eyes again, pushed through the pain and gasped. Her butt was asleep, her right hand was attached to her cheek with what she hoped was sap and not superglue, and something hard and pokey was sticking her in the kidney.
On second glance, she realized that she was lying under the Christmas tree next to an empty tub of Rocky Road, covered in popcorn garland, and spooning Randolph.
She had a piece of popcorn husk stuck between her teeth. Even sadder was that she hadn’t even had a sip of alcohol. Regan had accomplished all of this awesomeness by her sober lonesome.
She remembered putting Holly to bed, remembered stuffing the stockings, and remembered getting the presents out of the trunk.
She also remembered taking one look at Randolph, alone on Christmas Eve, hiding under the plastic tablecloths with little Santas, and completely lost it. Then, to really put the guilt on, he had flipped his switch and wished her a merry Christmas. Outside of Holly’s, it would likely be the only Christmas wish she would get this year. And how pathetic was that?
Almost as pathetic as carrying Randolph in, sharing a tub of ice cream with him and telling him all about her Christmas curse. Even using his flank to cry on.
“Holy cow, Santa brought you Randolph. You must have been a really good girl this year,” Holly said, scooting closer so she could pet Randolph’s head.
Regan thought back to all that she had lost last night and wanted to disagree, but she kept her mouth shut.
Then she stared at her daughter, sitting under an enormous Christmas tree, and her heart melted, moving somewhere closer to right. Holly’s face was flush with sleep and her hair was sticking up in the back. Dressed in red footie pajamas and clutching her kitty Pillow Pet—who she had named Gold Fish—Regan, for the first time in weeks, saw things clearly, and agreed.
She must have been a good girl, because she had Holly. And nobody else in the world could say that.
Scooping her daughter up, Regan settled Holly in her lap and held her close. She breathed in little girl scent and slowly exhaled while holding her tighter. “I love you, angel.”
“I love you too, Mommy, but you’re all sticky.”
Regan didn’t let go. And Holly, getting stickier by the second, didn’t move. Regan looked around their dinky little apartment and a warm sense of belonging passed through her. It didn’t matter where they lived or what kind of job she had, or that she’d have to look for new ones the next day. All that mattered was that, in her arms and together, she and Holly were enough. They always had been.
“Why don’t we do presents first and then breakfast?” she said, tugging one of Holly’s ringlets.
Holly shook her head and looked up at Regan with excited eyes. “We have to wait until my last present comes.”
“How do you know it isn’t already under the tree?” Regan had been keeping track of things that caught Holly’s attention. She couldn’t afford them all, but with her promotion had come a raise and Regan had been able to buy a few things she knew Holly wanted.
“Nope, it doesn’t fit under a tree,” Holly said, sending Regan’s heart plummeting to her toes.
Not wanting to shatter her kid’s Christmas wish but refusing to lie to her, Regan went for honest. “I did something that I’m not proud of.”
“Did you pay the Dirty Jar?” Holly asked, as cool as if this was a daily occurrence. For Regan, as of late, it was.
“I did. Remember that letter you gave me to mail to Santa?” Holly nodded. “Well, I opened it and read it without your permission, even though it wasn’t mine to open. And”—another deep breath—“I know you asked Santa for a forever home. And I know that one year we’ll get that home, just not this year.”
“I know,” Holly said with a duh tacked on to the tone. “At first I wanted a forever home where I could have a kitty of my own, then I realized a daddy was better.” If Regan’s heart had been in her toes, now it was lodged painfully in her throat. “So Lauren and I sent him a second letter and Santa brought me Gabe.” Holly’s smile fell flat and her lip quivered. “Why are you crying, Mommy?”
Regan touched her cheeks, surprised to find that she was. She never cried in front of Holly. Then again, ever since Richard, she’d avoided decisions that had the potential to break her baby’s heart.
“Honey, Gabe isn’t coming.”
Holly’s eyes went wide and bright. “Why?”
Because he’s a jerk. Because he lied. Because you got stuck with a mommy who is missing something that makes her lovable.
Regan swallowed. “Because he is spending it with his family.”
“But we’re his family.” The confusion in Holly’s voice burned through Regan’s chest.
She wrapped Holly tightly to her, hugging her fiercely and hoping to convey just how special she was, how loved she was, and most importantly, that just being herself was enough. “We are our own family, Holly. You, me, and Gold Fish.”
“And Randolph?” Holly whispered, too much understanding in her six-year-old little voice.
Regan pulled back. “No, we have to return Randolph.”
“Good, cuz the Dirty Jar’s already full.”
“They’re all staring at us,” Holly whispered, tightening her mittened grip on Regan’s left hand. Regan’s right hand was pulling a wagon.
The red wagon was heavier than she had expected, and even though a Christmas-morning storm sent frigid winds rushing though the main part of town, sweat beaded on her skin. Because the wagon, borrowed from Perkins’ toolshed, held one very wanted, fresh-from-his-bath and smiling-out-at-his-adoring-public Randolph.
The adoring public, however, was not smiling back. They were scowling. At Regan, not Randolph.
Regan tightened her grip on Holly, giving her hand three little squeezes. When Holly didn’t give her usual squeezes back, she stopped and looked down at her daughter, who looked back—terrified.
Dropping to her knee, Regan smoothed Holly’s silky hair. “You did nothing wrong. I made a mistake and I have to fix it, but I can bring you to Pricilla’s and pick you up after this is over.”
Holly took in the crowd, the not-so-welcoming glares, and shook her head. “Nope. You and me is family. A mistake is only wrong if you don’t right it.” With her me-too squeezes, Holly tugged her forward toward the town Christmas display.
Already packed with spectators wearing their mourning best, a gilded podium, and the mayor at the mic, it looked more like a funeral procession than a Christmas celebration. Reminding herself that there was nothing left to lose, Regan threw her shoulders back and kept on moving through the crowd, around St. Vincent’s upper-class glee club singing, “Randolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” past an overjoyed Isabel, only stopping after she had squeezed her way up to the podium.
“Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say,” the glee club belted out.
The mayor took one look at the stolen goods in the wagon and stepped back. Regan walked up to the mic and tapped it. The muffled thump echoed throughout the street, instantly silencing the crowd and cutting off the glee club right as the altos sang an ominous, “Ho Ho Ho.”
“Um, hello, everyone,” Regan began, with her best the-funniest-thing-happened-on-the-way-over smile. No one smiled back. “Merry Christmas?”
Silence.
Holly looked around. Sensing that her mom was a total bust, she held up a finger and whispered something to Randolph, whose smile oddly appeared to grow bigger. Then Holly wheeled him in front of the podium and pushed his nose.
“Merry Christmas, one and all.”
When the greeting wasn’t returned, Holly ran up on stage and pulled Regan close. “Like a Band-Aid, Mommy.” And then she ran back to the front row and gave her a double thumbs-up.
Quick and painless. Right. “I know you all have a busy schedule this morning, so I’ll just come out and say it—”
/> “I stole Randolph.” A voice came from behind. The crowd parted, all three hundred heads turned in unison to stare back.
Frankie stood on the curb in front of Stan’s Soup and Service Station, covered in dirt and grape stains. Her hair was a disaster and she was holding Randolph. Well, not Randolph, since Regan had the stolen Randolph in her stolen wagon. But it was a close match.
The crowd looked back and forth between the two statues, trying to determine who had the real Randolph and who was the big fat liar.
She had no idea where her friend had bought the reindeer or why she was doing this, but Regan was touched. That Frankie was trying to take the fall made the lump in her throat that much tighter.
Sweet or not, though, she couldn’t allow it. Holly was in the crowd, and Martin women didn’t hide from their mistakes. No matter how bad it sucked to fess up. “Frankie, that is so incredibly wonderful of you, but—”
“We stole Randolph,” the three Mrs. Clauses chimed in while marching across the street, each one carrying a Randolph look-alike.
“Impossible,” Mrs. Lambert said, coming from the general direction of the Grapevine Prune and Clip, a Randolph in her clutches. “I’ve had him all along. See?” She pushed his nose.
“Merry Christmas, one and all.”
From the back row, Regan could see a bundle of auburn curls rise. Abigail DeLuca stood on her chair, and the entire audience gasped at what was most likely going to be the best throw-down in St. Helena Christmas history.
Regan stood frozen, her palms sweating and her heart thundering in her chest. Last night had been one of the hardest moments of her life, which was saying a lot because she’d weathered more than her share of heartache. But this was something she refused to weather, not in front of Holly.
She stepped down from the podium and took her daughter’s hand. Before she could speak, Holly gave three squeezes and said, “Mrs. Dee, are you also going to fib and say you had Randolph?”
Abby looked down at Holly and then to Regan. The woman didn’t say a word, but then she didn’t need to. Regret was in her very expression. “No, honey, but give me a little while to get used to this.” She looked back at Regan and shrugged. “By next year, who knows.”
