“I don’t know about those lights.” Grady stroked the area underneath her eyes, apparently noticing her oh-so-attractive dark circles. She tried to pull back, but his other arm held her firm. “You must be tired, honey.”
“Not really, just—”
“Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”
“What?”
“You know…running?” he said, deadpan. “Tired?”
“Oh!” Her entire body quaked with laughter. “I so didn’t see that one coming. Nice one, Grady.”
Excruciatingly slowly, as if nothing else in the universe mattered, as if no one else existed but for them, he pulled her to him tight and held her. Her head lay on his shoulder, and if she moved the tiniest bit, she’d be able to kiss his neck. And then, maybe she’d move on to his ear…his cheek…his jaw…his mouth. But she didn’t move, even though her body cried out for her to. She barely breathed. This wasn’t like the other hugs they’d shared, either before or after Cody. This embrace seemed to have a language that only they understood.
It was sweet and quiet and oh-so-intimate.
Holding each other seemed exactly right. Anything more would be too much. At least for now. At least for today. So she enjoyed the comfort of his arms around her and hers around him. She breathed in his scent, rubbed her cheek against the softness of his shirt and allowed herself to revel in the present. In this moment. On this day.
After a while, and she had no idea how much time had passed because Dean had long since stopped singing, they reluctantly separated and got to the business of decorating.
Naturally, they started with the lights. Surprisingly, they all functioned. Grady was taller, so he dealt with the top of the pine, and she fed him the strings of lights as necessary. Once they reached the middle of the tree, they took their positions on either side and worked together to weave the lights in and out of the branches.
Neither spoke until the tree held what seemed to be thousands of blinking lights. Olivia’s heart squeezed as she looked over their handiwork. Yes, Cody would have been thrilled. He’d have asked Daddy to hold him up high so he could put decorations on the “toppest” part of the tree. Grady would’ve done so, and Olivia would’ve come up from behind and tickled Cody.
God. She could almost hear his squeals and his giggles. A sigh as heavy as an anchor expelled from her lungs. Her gaze met Grady’s and she saw that he was battling with his own memories. Yep. This was hard. Really, really hard.
“Why don’t we hang the basic stuff first?” Grady asked softly. “And set aside any of Cody’s ornaments. It might be easier to put those on last, all at once. We can celebrate him then, Olly. Instead of breaking it up into tiny moments. What do you think?”
She almost lost it then. Because to her, there was nothing to celebrate here. This was about moving forward. This was about learning to experience the joy of her son in the present. “What an odd word to use,” she whispered. “Celebrate what? Getting through Christmas without our son? Because I’m sure you didn’t mean to say we should celebrate his death?”
“Of course not! Celebrate his life.” He went to her and opened his arms. She stepped out of his reach. “Celebrate our love for him. That’s all I meant to say.”
She stared at Grady, once again questioning her motivation for doing this now. Why couldn’t she be like her husband? Why couldn’t she see moments like this as a cause for celebration instead of something she had to get through?
“I’m sorry I misunderstood,” she said in a wobbly voice. “But I…I want to be able to understand, to see things as you do. I’m trying.”
“I know.”
“Do you care if I put the music on again?” she asked, fraught with the want to move on from this place. “It distracts me.”
“Music is good,” he said with a small smile.
So, with Dean singing his Christmas heart out, she pulled her courage together and helped Grady separate the boxes of ornaments. They zigzagged around the tree and each other while hanging the simpler, easier-to-manage Santa Clauses, snowmen and angels, along with a mixture of other Christmas curios they’d picked up over the years.
Every now and then, Grady would ask her if she was okay. In between those moments, she’d ask him how he was doing. And then, quicker than she’d have thought possible, there weren’t any ornaments besides Cody’s left.
Olivia’s throat tightened as she searched the room, looking for anything—even a freaking candy cane—that would put off the inevitable. Other than the standard half dozen or so ornaments that had somehow broken since they were last used, there was nothing.
“Well. I guess that’s it.” She crossed over and picked up the box that held the decorations that reminded them of Cody. Some were crafted by him, some were his favorites, some were chosen by him at one time or another, and then there were those that had belonged to him. A myriad of memories bundled together in a plastic box. “How should we do this?”
“One at a time.” Grady stood in front of her and reached into the container. He pulled out a store-bought ornament of a miniature mouse holding a green-wrapped Hershey’s Kiss. “Remind me,” Grady said in a hushed tone. “When did Cody get this little guy?”
“Cody was four. The three of us were shopping for your family,” she replied instantly. “And Cody saw the display of candy boxed with various ornaments. He thought…he thought it was funny that a mouse would want chocolate instead of cheese.” She tipped her chin up hoping to stop the tears from falling. “I snuck that into the cart for his Christmas stocking.”
“Ah,” Grady said. “That’s right. So, sweetheart, where should we hang this one?”
She attempted to answer, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate. Instead, she waved her hand in the general direction of the tree and shrugged.
“The front of the tree? Do you think the top or the bottom?”
She still couldn’t answer—not without bawling, anyway—so she shrugged again and continued to stare at the ceiling.
“How about if I take care of Mr. Mouse here while you choose the next ornament?”
Okay. She could do that. She wanted to do that. Behind her, Grady hummed in tune to the Christmas music, apparently seeking out the ideal place for the mouse. She reached in and blindly grabbed an object. Then, without looking at what she held, she placed the box on the coffee table and turned to face the tree. Mr. Mouse was almost at the very top.
And her husband… Well, she couldn’t see his face. But he stood so straight and so tall and so motionless that she knew he was fighting to control his emotions. Somehow, in a way she didn’t understand, that pushed her forward. She closed the gap between them and oh-so-gently ran her hand down his sweater-covered back. His muscles jerked in response.
“You found the perfect spot,” she said. “A place of honor for one of Cody’s favorite decorations.”
A minute passed before Grady answered. When he did, she heard nothing but calmness and clarity in his tenor. “Well, come on, Olly. Mr. Mouse deserves nothing less. Besides, I figured he’s so small that he’d appreciate being up so high.”
“Cody logic.”
“Yup.” Pivoting, he asked, “Did you choose one?”
“I did.” She held up her hand, showing him the ornament. A ceramic candy cane that Cody had painted in bold splashes of red and green. “He brought this home from kindergarten his last day before Christmas break. He ran into the house and straight to the tree. He hung it—” she stepped to the side of Grady, crouched, and slipped the hook over a bottom branch “—right about here.”
When she stood, Grady was ready with the next ornament. From there on out, they took turns in selecting, reminiscing and decorating. Instead of becoming easier, as she’d hoped, the task only grew harder as they continued on. Which, she supposed, made sense, considering the circumstances. Strangely, though, as difficult as the process was, she still felt a lightening of the spirit. And in a way that she couldn’t begin to explain, she felt physi
cally closer to her son. His presence was so strong, she kept expecting to hear his voice or see his smile.
“There,” Grady said after placing the last ornament—the popsicle-stick picture frame with the photo of Cody—on the tree. This one Grady had put in the front and center position, with all the other ornaments framing Cody.
“So beautiful,” she whispered. “Truly.”
Again, her husband stood straight and tall, his attention on the tree…on their son. Emotion welled in her chest, and she—again—stepped forward to place her hand on her husband’s back. A deep, almost guttural sob choked out of Grady’s throat. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder and let the tears she’d held flow.
Grady turned and captured her in his arms. Dean was crooning “Silent Night” in only the way that Dean could. Olivia had always loved the quiet beauty of the song, but never so much as she did at that minute. Every word resonated in her heart and soul. She raised her arms and wrapped them around Grady’s neck.
And then, in silent celebration of their son, they danced.
Chapter Nine
The next week passed in a blur. Each morning, Olivia would take a few minutes before leaving for work to stand in front of the Christmas tree. And each evening, she curled herself on the sofa—sometimes with a book, sometimes not—and let the blinking lights do their magic. The icy frost she’d shielded her heart with for the past three years was slowly melting.
It was scary and wondrous, all at once.
As the deep freeze let go of its hold, she began to notice little things in her world. Like the way her next-door neighbors—an elderly couple who’d been together for so long they resembled each other—would stop and wave whenever they saw her. Had they always done that? Had she ever waved back? She didn’t know.
Then, one night when she dashed into the grocery store to pick up something for dinner, she was startled when the cashier greeted her by name. The woman also asked after Olivia’s cat and wished her a Merry Christmas. Try as she might, she couldn’t remember ever speaking with the cashier before, when obviously she had.
And here at work, she was blindsided to see how her coworkers, while always kind and polite, kept their distance unless there was something job-related they required from her. Yet, they spoke easily and often with each other. Apparently, in the two-plus years Olivia had been employed here, she hadn’t gone out of her way to get to know anyone.
She, like the Dickens’ character, had closed her eyes to the people in her life. Not out of monetary greed, but out of self-preservation. But really, was that any better? She’d still become indifferent—cold—to everyone and everything. Well, except for Samantha. Even with her, though, Olivia recognized that she had put limitations on their friendship.
All of this needed to change. So, she did something she probably should have done years ago—she made an appointment with a grief counselor before she lost her nerve. She… Well, she was ready to fully wake up. But she needed to do so on her terms and in her way. That was why she chose to keep this decision to herself. At least for now.
Ugh. Shoving herself away from her desk, she grabbed a sheaf of papers and headed for the copy machine. Thank God it was Friday. There were two hours left before the workday ended, and while she’d managed to mostly catch up on her workload, staying focused had proved to be an issue. How could it not with everything that was going on inside of her?
She punched the required number of copies into the machine and hit the start button. The swish-swish of the papers sifting through the cycle silenced the background noise of patients chatting in the waiting room, which was just on the other side of the door.
Her mind wandered while she waited, once again going to Sunday. Decorating the tree with Grady had been tough. Okay, huge understatement. Sunday’s activities had left her raw. But a sweetness existed there, as well. A sweetness she couldn’t have experienced with anyone other than her husband.
Her husband. She’d been thinking a lot about that, too. About what he wanted. About what she wanted. She’d known for a long time that she’d never be whole without Cody, but she was beginning to sense that expunging Grady from her life would only increase her emptiness. But was that a good enough reason to stay in their marriage? Especially when she wasn’t sure if she was capable of giving him what he needed.
Hell, she didn’t know. But she loved him, and she believed he loved her. It was the what-ifs that were killing her. What if she let him down? What if, once he understood that she blamed herself for the car accident, he blamed her, too? What if he couldn’t forgive her? What if she could never tell him? And the kicker: What if they reconciled, found their way to happiness again, only to face another tragedy down the line?
So many what-ifs. She yearned for a guaranteed happily-ever-after. A promise that the rest of her life would only be filled with joy. Since that was impossible for anyone who lived outside of a novel, she had to decide if the risk of losing everything—again—was worth it.
And that decision needed to be made soon.
Grady held the bucket of popcorn out for Olivia. She grinned, scooped a handful and returned her attention to the screen. They were seated in a darkened theater watching a movie. A romantic comedy, no less. Grady had chosen this particular movie on purpose, but Olivia hadn’t caught on yet. Well, to be honest, why would she? They’d seen hundreds of movies together, and a fair number of them were romantic comedies.
Grady had taken Olivia to such a movie about ten months after Cody’s funeral. Getting her out of the house back then had been nearly impossible, but he had to do something. He was hopeless with grief, with loneliness, and he saw her spiraling away from him. Each day, she closed herself off more and more, and each day grew bleaker. He’d asked her to go see a therapist with him. She refused. So he went on his own. The therapist had suggested changing their daily routine to draw her out. It had taken weeks to get Olivia to agree to an outing.
There hadn’t been a must-see action movie playing at the time, which would have been his first pick. His choices had been a romantic comedy, a tear-jerker of a drama, a horror flick and a few family-friendly films. Obviously, given those choices, he’d gone with the romantic comedy. Even so, unless she somehow narrowed in on that day, the chances were high she wouldn’t connect this movie to the one they saw that afternoon. Nope. It would be their next stop that would clue her in.
Chances were, all hell would break loose then.
Fidgeting in his seat, he stretched his legs out. Olivia and the rest of the audience laughed at something the dashing hero said to the wistful heroine, but Grady didn’t know what. He couldn’t concentrate. He’d fought with himself all week about today’s date. Here they were, and he still hadn’t decided if his plan would prove beneficial.
Or, hell, if he should even follow through.
Sure, Olivia had handled Sunday well enough. In some respects, better than he. But tonight was a beast of a different variety. And damn, he ached to protect her from every ill the world might throw her way. Naturally, he knew he couldn’t, which only served to make him feel worse about the hours ahead.
But…he’d set up these dates for a reason. They were meant to serve a purpose. With date one, his goal was to remind Olivia of who they were before Cody, of the early nuances of their relationship. Thanksgiving… Okay, he’d taken a misstep, there. A stupid one. He’d initially introduced Olivia to his family on Thanksgiving Day, about seven months into their courtship. That was what he’d hoped she’d connect with, and therefore, reconnect with his family. But he should’ve realized that the underlying tension over Seth could affect her, and he damn well should have known she’d be more likely to think of the last Thanksgiving they’d celebrated together as a family. So yes. A huge misstep.
Fortunately for him, the day hadn’t completely bottomed out. Whatever she’d felt at his parents’ had paved the way for what had taken place last Sunday. Even with all the emotional ups and downs, he considered every second of that day a gif
t. He was pretty sure that Olly would say the same. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding wheezed from his chest, and some of his anxiety eased off. Perhaps date three would also turn into a gift.
The audience laughed again, startling him enough that his arm jerked and a good portion of the popcorn dumped into his lap. “Damn it,” he muttered.
“Are you okay?” Olivia asked. She leaned over to help him clean up the mess. “You don’t seem as if you’re having a very good time.”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “And I’m with the most beautiful woman here, so how could I not be having a good time?”
“Hmm,” she said with a grin. “That sounds suspiciously like a corny pick-up line.”
“Nothing corny about it, darlin’,” he said, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “The movie’s great. Even better than I heard.”
“Sure it is,” she drawled. “I can see that you’re absolutely riveted.”
“Shh,” he said. “I’m trying to pay attention here.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes in doubt, but didn’t press the issue. Once she was engaged in the movie again, Grady returned to his musings. Tonight’s date—date number three—was all about dragging the dirty laundry out. He felt sure she blamed him for the accident. He felt just as sure that she needed to find the courage to tell him so. Whether she screamed, hollered or threw things at him, he didn’t care. He was ready for it. Beyond that, they had never really talked about what had happened that night. The air had never been cleared.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried, but Olivia always shut him down. Now, he understood that they had to have this conversation. That if they didn’t expose the raw underside of their pain, of their worst fears, they would never be able to move beyond it—whether separately or together. So yeah, as fervently as he wished otherwise, as much as he questioned this path he’d chosen, somehow he was going to have to find a way to help Olly feel secure enough to speak her mind.
Miracle Under The Mistletoe (The Foster Brothers #1) Page 13
