Pastor said a prayer and the solemn moment ended. The lights came back up and the candles were extinguished and collected as the mood turned festive and everyone sang, “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, and God bless us, everyone,” said Pastor Jim. “And now, let’s go sample some of those wonderful Christmas cookies I saw earlier.”
People chatted with one another and children dashed off to get into the cookies. A couple of people told Rob it was nice to see him again.
“I’m glad you two are back together,” said Mrs. Walters, patting Ivy’s arm.
“Thanks, Mrs. W.” Ivy decided it was easier to play along than explain that their relationship was in the “it’s complicated” stage.
“Let’s get cookies, Daddy,” Hannah said, tugging on Rob’s arm.
“Just a couple,” Ivy told her. “Then we need to go home and get you in bed so Santa can come.”
“Santa, yay!” Hannah cried, jumping up and down.
Robbie was still clueless about Santa, but his sister’s reaction was enough to make him bounce excitedly in Ivy’s arms.
“Okay, one cookie and then Mommy will take you home,” said Rob.
“You’re coming, too, Daddy,” Hannah insisted.
Rob looked at Ivy. Am I?
“Daddy will come over to help tuck you in,” Ivy said. It was Christmas, after all, and she wanted her daughter to go to sleep happy.
And what about her? Did she want to go to sleep happy? All she had to do was say the word and she could. Her tummy felt as though an entire flock of sugarplum fairies was dancing around in there.
Three cookies and a cup of punch later, Hannah was on a sugar high. “It’s going to be fun getting her to settle down,” Ivy predicted.
“She’ll crash once you’ve got her in bed,” Mutti said. She hugged Ivy. “Come on by tomorrow if you want.” She sneaked a glance in Rob’s direction. “Unless, of course, you get a better offer.”
She had a feeling she was going to. The big question was, should she take it?
Rob helped her pile the kids in the car, then followed them home. No baths tonight. She popped both children into their jammies and settled them in bed, Gizmo trotting behind, supervising. Hannah wrapped her arms around Rob’s neck after they’d tucked her in, reluctant to let him go. “I asked Santa for you to come back home, Daddy.”
“You know, you don’t need to ask Santa for stuff like that,” Rob said. “I’ll always be around for you, princess, whether I’m here in the house or down the street.”
“But I want you here,” she said, her voice tearful. “And I asked Santa. And God.”
“Bringing in all the big guns,” Rob quipped. He kissed her head and gently disengaged himself. “You need to go to sleep, so Santa can come.”
“Okay,” she said, and dutifully closed her eyes.
Ivy bent and kissed her cheek. “Good night, baby.”
“Night, Mommy.” Hannah sighed and snuggled into her pillow.
They quietly left the bedroom and went downstairs, not talking. Then they were in the hallway and Ivy suddenly had no idea what to say.
Rob filled the silence. “Ive, can I stay for a while? Please?”
There went the sugarplum fairies again, dashing back and forth. “You want some hot buttered rum?”
“Sure,” he said, and followed her into the kitchen, Gizmo beside him.
She gave the dog a treat and said, “Lie down.” Happy with his reward, Gizmo went into the family room and curled up on his dog bed.
“He still minds you better than he does me,” Rob said, and sat on a bar stool at the counter.
“He still likes you better.” So did their daughter. But then little girls all liked their daddies best. Even when the daddies left.
He watched as she turned on the electric teakettle and pulled mugs from the cupboard. “Did you see today’s paper?”
She concentrated on spooning the rum mixture into their mugs. “I did.” Say something more. But she couldn’t. Her lips seemed to be frozen shut.
“I know I was a shit.”
All the hurt and anger she’d been carrying around for months sizzled to the surface and melted the freeze. “Yeah, you were. Rob, do have any idea what this year has been like for me? Having to hear about you taking up with that Ashley Armstrong in the New Year? And then that other woman this summer? To see you just moving on and partying, throwing aside what we’d had? Do have any idea of what Hannah’s gone through? What it’s been like around here having to hear her ask God every night to bring you home?” She poured the water into his mug, walked over to the counter and slammed it down in front of him. “I’m sick of you, sick of all the hurt you’ve caused, sick of trying to figure out what I did that was so bad you couldn’t stay and fix it,” she finished, her voice breaking. The thaw released a torrent of tears and she turned her back to him.
He was at her side in an instant. “Ivy, Ivy,” he said, drawing her into his arms. “I was a jerk.”
She laid her head on his chest—it felt so good—and let herself sob.
“Oh, baby. You didn’t do anything. It was all me.”
She looked up at him, tears stinging her cheeks. “How can I take you back? How can I trust you not to break my heart again?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t deserve a second chance.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. But suddenly what anyone did or didn’t deserve was a moot point. It was Christmas Eve and she was tired of holding on to the hurt. She wanted her husband back. She wanted him, period. She pulled his face to hers and kissed him.
His arms tightened around her and he drew the kiss out, their lips salty with tears. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked at last.
That had been the wrong thing to say. She freed herself and stepped back. “It couldn’t have been that long since you were with those two other women. And they’re only the two I know about,” she added. She snatched her mug and went to the living room.
He trailed her in. “Ivy.”
She was mad all over again. “I guess you weren’t exactly moping around, dreaming of kissing me.”
He settled on the couch next to her. “Yeah, I admit it. I thought life would be better with no strings.”
Yeah, well, maybe she wouldn’t have minded escaping those strings, too, getting a break from long hours at the shop, housework, babies up all night with ear infections. She scowled at her drink and set it aside.
“You know, I took Melody to my folks’ for Thanksgiving.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
He held up a hand. “No, let me finish. Everyone was nice to her, but it was weird. We went to Seattle afterward but the magic wasn’t there for us. It was like when you’re putting together a puzzle and you keep trying to fit in a piece that’s almost the right shape, but not really. You keep trying and trying to force it in. It never works, though, because it’s not the right piece. That was when I knew I’d been fooling myself all along. I should never have left.”
“But you did,” she said sadly.
“I know. I was tired of the grind, tired of feeling like...” He shrugged. “I don’t know, just another thing on your to-do list. We’d lost what we’d had, and I figured there was no point in trying to get it back.”
“We could have gone for counseling.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t think it would work.”
Why? And why hadn’t he said all this to her back then, instead of just giving her vague excuses? “Rob, I would have done anything.”
He turned and faced her. “Would you, Ive? Would you really? What about the times I suggested taking a weekend off? What about Thanksgiving weekend last year?”
“It’s one of our busiest weekends!
” she protested.
“Yep. I remember you saying that. More than once. That was the tipping point, though.”
They’d gone to a fund-raiser dinner in October for Camp Summit, a camp just outside of town that focused on helping underprivileged kids, and Rob had bid on a weekend at a Seattle B and B in the silent auction. He’d wanted them to leave the kids with her parents and go away for a second honeymoon. “We could go Thanksgiving weekend,” he’d said.
“We can’t do that weekend. I’ve got the store.”
“You’ve got employees. Your parents could help out.”
“And watch the kids?”
“Okay, if not then, when?”
“We can’t go in December.”
“It’s only good till the end of the year,” he’d pointed out.
“I guess we can’t use it, then,” she’d said.
“I guess not,” he’d agreed irritably, and stopped bidding.
The drive home that night hadn’t been as happy as the drive to the fund-raiser. Rob had been ticked.
“We’ve got a business,” she’d reminded him.
“No. You’ve got a business. I’m not part of it. And frankly, ever since you took over for your folks, that place has owned you.”
Now, looking back, she realized it had. “So, it’s my fault you left.”
“No. It’s mine. I was tired of being in second place and I walked out like a spoiled kid who can’t get his way.”
Second place. “Was that what you thought, that you came in second?”
“More like third or fourth, after the kids, after your family, after the shop. And yeah, I know that makes me a supershit. I really don’t deserve another chance, Ivy, but I’m hoping you’ll give me one, anyway.”
“What would things be like if you did come back?” Did he want her to quit working at the shop?
“Better than they were when I left, I hope.”
“We’ll still have kids. I’ll still... Will I have a shop?”
“I know you love that shop. It’s been in your family since dust. Hell, my mom remembers when it first opened as Kringle Mart. It was dumb of me to think I could separate you from it, especially since you’d been working there since we were in high school. So, yeah. Do what you gotta do. Just put me back in the picture.”
“Or the puzzle,” she said, managing a smile.
“Have we got a deal? Can I come back home?”
She bit her lip. Could they work things out?
He was looking at her so earnestly. He’d taken a risk in coming over, in writing that letter to the paper. She could get even right now and send him packing.
But she didn’t want to. “Yes. Please come home,” she said.
With a very unmanly sob, he pulled her to him and kissed her like a man who’d been marooned for a very long time and just been rescued. Maybe they’d both been rescued.
Their lovemaking was fast and heated, their clothes torn off with the same eagerness they’d been shed on their honeymoon. Afterward, when they lay together on the couch, he kissed her temple and murmured, “I love you, Ivy. I always have. I’m so damn sorry I hurt you.”
So was she. But her joy in having him back eclipsed that sorrow. “You’re here now and that’s what counts.”
“Daddy?”
The sudden sound of their daughter’s voice made Ivy just about jump out of her skin.
“Shit,” Rob muttered, grabbing for his pants.
“Hannah, go to bed!” Ivy commanded.
Hannah remained perched halfway down the stairs, rubbing her eyes. “Did Santa come?”
“Not yet,” Rob said, trying to discreetly get himself back in his pants. Not an easy feat considering the fact that the couch and the two naked people on it were in full view.
“Mommy, where’s your nightgown?” Hannah asked.
“Daddy’s going to get it for her,” said Rob, zipping up his jeans. He walked to the stairs, leaving Ivy to fumble for the throw on the end of the couch. “Come on, back to bed.”
“When’s Santa coming?”
“As soon as you’ve gone to sleep,” he said, picking her up.
“But I went to sleep.”
“You have to sleep some more.”
They disappeared upstairs, and Ivy threw her clothes back on and got busy putting out presents for the kids—a pink bumblebee Pillow Pet and LeapFrog LeapPad for Hannah, and some Fisher-Price goodies for Robbie.
She found herself singing “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus.” More like I saw Mommy boinking Santa Claus.
“Do you think we scarred her for life?” she asked when he came back down.
He grinned. “In a good way. She’s sure that Santa’s already been and gone—and left me here to stay.”
“I guess he did,” Ivy said with a smile. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”
“Great idea,” he said. And once back in the bed they’d shared for so many years, the bed that had been half-empty for so many months, he proceeded to give her a very merry Christmas.
They were awakened that morning by Hannah bouncing on the bed. “Santa came, Santa came!” she cried, falling on her father and hugging him.
From his room Robbie was howling to be let out. As Ivy left to go and get him she heard her daughter say, “I knew you’d come home.” This was followed by, “Thank you, Santa, thank you, God.”
Her daughter’s prayers had worked and she’d gotten just what she wanted for Christmas.
They all had.
Chapter Twenty-Three
So what really makes the holidays perfect? Two things—appreciating the message of joy that comes with Christmas and loving one another. After that everything else falls into place.
—Muriel Sterling, Making the Holidays Bright: How to Have a Perfect Christmas
Christmas Eve had not gone according to plan. Maddy’s father-in-law had sprained his wrist. Corrine’s diagnosis was less conclusive. X-rays had been taken and the doctor couldn’t rule out a subtle fracture. The patient had been put in an ankle brace, instructed to use crutches, to remain non-weight-bearing and repeat the X-ray procedure in a week. Which meant—oh, joy—staying in town for another week.
They’d transferred the folks from the upstairs bedroom to the sleeper sofa, which allowed Corrine to complain about her back all through their Christmas-morning stollen. Tom, who’d had to cancel his appointment back home, simply said, “Oh, well,” and got to work rebooking their flight. Now the Queen of the World was enthroned on the living room couch, her foot propped up on a pillow, while they opened their presents.
Jordan was delighted with the iTunes gift card her parents had given her (since Grandma wasn’t going to come through) as well as the gemstone necklace and the decorative bed pillow that said Plant Face Here. Now she was opening a present from her grandparents. “An iTunes gift card. Thank you, Grandma! Thank you, Grandpa,” cried Jordan, hugging first Tom and then Corrine.
“You’re welcome,” Corrine said. “That’s what your mother said you wanted.”
Jordan nodded eagerly. “Thanks. I did.”
“I didn’t know your parents were going to give you one,” Corrine added, and looked accusingly at Maddy.
What to say to that? Nothing, of course.
Alan got a tin of his favorite hard candies, along with a shirt (the same thing he got every year) and a Rascal Flatts CD. He also received a MasterCard gift card.
“We figured you could use it to do something as a family,” Corrine said. “It sounds as though you’re not getting to spend much time together lately.”
She might as well have added, “And, obviously, with the problems you’ve had with your daughter, you need it.”
“Thanks, guys,” Alan said. “That’s nice of you. Isn’t it, hon
?”
“Yes, it is,” Maddy agreed, forcing herself to smile.
Corrine shifted on the couch and let out a whimper.
“Do you need another pain pill?” Maddy asked her.
“That would be good,” Corrine replied. “I’ll have some more coffee, too,” she said, holding up her mug.
“Of course.” Maddy took the empty mug and went to fetch coffee and more painkiller. A whole week of this lay ahead. Santa sure had it in for her this year.
She returned with a pill and the coffee, and Alan said with a sly smile, “Here’s a present for Maddy.” He handed her a small gold foil-wrapped box. The tag on the bow said To the world’s best wife. Love, Alan.
Aww. She pulled off the paper and found a black velvet box from Mountain Jewels inside. “Oh, my. What’s in here?”
“Something that’s going to earn my son a lot of points,” predicted Tom.
Tom had tried to earn points with Corrine by getting her a gold bracelet—and failed. Corrine had been eyeing a different one. What a surprise. “But it was very sweet of you to try,” she’d said. “I’ll exchange it when we get home.” Charming. For the millionth time since they’d got married, Maddy found herself wondering how her husband had turned out to be such a great guy. Oh, yeah. He took after his father.
“Open it,” Alan urged, nodding at the box in Maddy’s hand.
She did, and there sat a pair of pink diamond earrings. “Oh, Alan, they’re gorgeous!” she cried, and kissed him.
“Now, how come I don’t get rewarded like that?” Tom joked.
“Trade this in for the bracelet I wanted, and you will,” Corrine promised.
“Here’s another present for you,” Jordan said, handing Maddy a square box wrapped in expensive red foil with a gold ribbon. It was the same wrapping as Alan’s and Jordan’s presents, one of the gifts Tom had put under the tree.
“It’s so pretty, I almost hate to open it,” Maddy said. She’d probably like the wrapping better than what was inside.
Corrine smiled, the picture of self-satisfaction.
Christmas on Candy Cane Lane Page 32
