by Jen Talty
In the last twenty-four hours, a total of twenty-three inches had fallen. Not quite a record in these parts, but close.
And bad enough to keep the roads shut down along with some of the slopes, but thankfully not all.
Perhaps Olivia and her son had called it a night and were all snug in their beds upstairs. The smell of fresh sausage, ricotta cheese, and homemade sauce lingered in his nostrils, making the chicken sandwich he brought home seem inconsequential and lacking in the fulfillment department.
Just one small piece of lasagna. That’s all he wanted.
And maybe one shot of whiskey.
He gripped the doorknob, slowly turning and pulling open the door, thankful it didn’t creak. On his tiptoes, he slinked down the hallway like a little kid on Christmas Eve trying to get a peek at the presents. He paused at the entryway to the family room when he noticed the glow of the television illuminating Olivia’s long, blond hair.
The lights on the Christmas tree flicked bright white then switched to blue and red.
Noah sat on the floor in front of the stupid tree with his mom and a bowl of popcorn, making a string of the stuff that Ryder assumed was to be put around the tree.
“Hey, Ryder,” Noah said. “Thought you were already asleep.”
“I hope we didn’t disturb you.” Olivia’s voice rang out soft and sweet, making his insides turn to mush.
“No. No. I was just heading to the kitchen to find a snack,” he admitted, unable to come up with a suitable lie. “I was trying to be quiet.”
“For a trained Navy SEAL, you suck at sneaking around.” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze roaming from his head to his toes like a scanner on an automatic smart weapon.
He became painfully aware that all he had on was a pair of gym shorts.
“I do better when I have a hundred pounds of equipment to carry.” He pointed to the kitchen. “Mind if I get some of that lasagna? It smelled awfully good.”
“I’ll heat some up.” She pushed up from the floor, sporting the same pajamas as this morning, and his body had the same primal reaction.
“I can manage myself.”
“Well, I was going to make some tea.” She groaned as she took a couple of steps. “My muscles hate me.”
“They’ll hate you more in two days.” He closed the gap and pressed his hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.”
“Want to help us decorate the tree?” Noah asked with a bright smile and the same enthusiasm he exhibited with everything he said or did. “We always decorate on the night before Christmas Eve. It’s what my dad always did, so we do it to honor him. And then tomorrow night, we bake my grandma’s cookies. Double Chocolate Vanilla Chip. They were my dad’s favorite and when he was a boy, he left them for Santa.” Noah leaned forward, glancing around. “I know there is no such thing as Santa, so don’t worry about acting like you believe, but we still leave the cookies out and someone…” Noah rolled his eyes… “always eats them. My mom makes them all the time though. She said when my dad would come home from being deployed, she’d have a whole tray waiting for him. The recipe is a secret but you’re a SEAL, so I think we can trust you to help, and I don’t think my dad would have minded one bit.”
Ryder was exhausted just listening to the kid. But it also stirred so many what if’s and should haves that Ryder drowned the sea of deep sorrow he tried to keep at bay. “Sounds like fun, but I think I’ll pass on both the decorating and the baking.”
Noah’s lips curled down, and he dropped his chin. Disappointment trickled from his eyes like a puppy who’d been told he couldn’t have a treat.
A tinge of guilt fluttered against his heart. Noah had no male role models in his life, except for a father who had died before Noah had been given the chance to know his father. Really know him. But it wasn’t Ryder’s job to be any kind of role model for the lad. Not even for a night.
“I think family traditions should stay in the family,” he said, hoping that would help ease the sting he’d put on Noah’s emotions.
“My dad’s mom always says that family isn’t just blood and it’s not always forever. Sometimes we have to let others in, even if only for a short time, and you’re here alone on Christmas, and no one should be alone during the holidays, so you can be part of our family for now. Right, Mom?”
“Of course he can. Just remember what I said about asking him a ton of questions about his job.”
Noah nodded.
“I appreciate that, Noah, but everyone has their own traditions and being alone on Christmas is mine.” The jury had just cast their verdict, and it was unanimous. Ryder was an asshole. A jerk. Or as his sister would have called him when they were children, a big old puddle of mud suck. Whatever that meant.
By the way Olivia narrowed her eyes, he suspected she would call him something a whole lot worse.
“I’ll just find my snack, heat you up some water for tea, and go back to my room.”
“I’ll heat my own water, thank you.” She stepped in front of him. “I’ll be back shortly, Noah. You keep making that popcorn string. This is going to be the best tree yet.” With lines of tension etched in her face, Olivia padded off. Her body moved in an awkward, almost slow-motion movement, due to the physical strain skiing had taken, but that didn’t make her any less attractive.
Time to go get some grub and get the hell out of Dodge.
By the time he entered the kitchen, Olivia had her nose in the fridge. She yanked out a small container. “Here. There’s another one with your name on it for lunch tomorrow. Just heat it up with the lid cracked open for about three minutes. If you take the top all the way off, it will splatter, and I’m not cleaning out the microwave, so if you make a mess, you clean it yourself.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And cut the ma’am crap. My name is Olivia. Use it. Please.” She stretched her arm out, opening the cabinet to get a mug that was on the top shelf.
He went to help, but she pushed his hand aside.
He arched a brow. “Olivia, you made me lunch for tomorrow?”
She shrugged. “There is enough lasagna to feed us all for a week, so I just put some in a separate container for you.” After filling her mug, she put it in the microwave and pounded a couple of buttons.
“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you,” he said with a tight tone. “I’m sorry I offended you by not wanting to participate in your traditions.”
“Christ. You didn’t offend me, but you hurt my son. I don’t know what kind of demons you’re battling and it’s none of my business, but you could have been a little kinder and nicer in your delivery when Noah offered you a seat at our table. He was trying to do what his father would have done. Or what any decent human being would do for someone alone during a time that is all about families being together. Would it have killed you to sit down for five minutes and string some popcorn? Or maybe have a cookie with him? It’s not like I’m asking you to spend weekends with him in some big brother program. All he wanted was to show you kindness, and you tossed it in his face.”
Ryder opened and closed his hands, shaking them out, trying to rid himself of the tension and rage blustering. This time the jury would hang him, but she was asking too much. “Besides the fact that you’re overreacting to my response, I came here to be alone because I don’t want to be reminded that it’s Christmas. I wanted to drink the damn fucking holiday away. I promised I’d not drink around your son, and that I can do, but I will not be part of your little family traditions. It might not kill me to participate, but it sure as hell reminds me of everything I want to forget.” He tossed the container of lasagna on the table. “Noah’s a fine boy, and he’ll get over me saying no, thank you. Life is filled with disappointment, a lesson he needs to learn. People are going to act worse and do worse, but you might think about toning down the rituals, making everything about his dad, and maybe think about making some
new ones. Ones for just you and Noah and—”
She poked him in the chest.
Hard.
“Don’t you dare tell me how to parent or lecture me on disappointment. I lost my husband. Noah lost his father before he ever knew him. All this tradition is about helping Noah have some understanding of what a great man his father was and the kind of father he would have been to him. I’m just trying to give Noah a little piece of Jason.” She waved her hand in the air.
He took a step back, rubbing his chest. He didn’t want that fingernail digging into his skin again.
Well, not like that anyway.
“What the hell do you know about kids anyway?”
Clenching his fists, he sucked in a deep breath. He had three choices. Walk away. Tell her the truth. Or tell her where she could go.
“More than you know,” he said under his breath, opting for a combination of all three. “Good night, Olivia.” He left the kitchen without food but with a wicked desire to get hammered.
He had to pass Noah to get to his room. He paused, glancing at Noah sitting under the tree, still stringing the popcorn. “Good night, kiddo. Perhaps I’ll see you on the slopes tomorrow.”
“That would be cool.” Noah smiled, but it wasn’t his usual full, bright grin that filled a room.
Yeah. Ryder had hurt the kid’s feelings. But that didn’t change the fact that right at that moment, Ryder missed his own family.
He stepped into his room, yanking his rucksack out of the closet and tossing it on the bed. Taking the glass he’d left on the nightstand, he reached back into the closet, snagging the bottle of Jack and poured. With the whiskey burning his throat, he pulled out the picture of Owen and Melissa taken almost exactly one year ago. He traced his fingers along the edges of Melissa’s face, and then Owen’s pudgy little cheeks. “Shit,” he muttered. If he had died and his family had lived, and some asshole got stuck in a cabin with them, he hoped that asshole would man up and do the boy a solid.
Ryder dropped the picture to the bed and headed toward the bathroom. He dumped the drink down the drain and then ran cold water against his face. He’d man up all right. He’d put some decent clothes on, go back out there, and string the best goddamned popcorn whatcha-call-it and dress the tree with it.
“Mom?” Noah stood two feet from the kitchen only seconds after Ryder stormed off. She’d heard Ryder’s final exchange with Noah, so points to Ryder for being polite, but in all likelihood, Ryder would avoid them as much as possible over the next few days. She let out a long breath.
As if that were going to be possible.
Ryder pushed her to take lessons with her son, and she was glad she’d taken the challenge. She’d also listened to how her son went on and on about the traditions, using the exact same language she had used telling him, making him sound like a grown up, not a little boy. While she could tell he was certainly excited, it wasn’t about the traditions, but about sharing them with someone other than his mother.
And his rambling on about them had been for her.
She hated to admit it, but Ryder had a point about what she’d been doing all these years.
“Yes, Noah?”
“Please don’t get mad at me, but I don’t think you should have yelled at Ryder like that. He wasn’t mean or rude. He just doesn’t want to be around anyone. Don’t you always tell me not to take certain things personally?”
Out of the mouths of babes. She pulled Noah in for a hug. Soon, he’d be pushing her away, telling her he was too big and old to hug his mother.
She dreaded that day.
“You’re right. It’s just that I could tell you were disappointed.” She stroked her son’s wavy hair.
“I was more sad. But not for me. For Ryder. I think he misses someone like we miss Dad.”
That stopped her breath. When she thought of what his demons might be, she figured it had to do with the job. Being a SEAL. Her husband, as a pilot, brought home his fair share of death and destruction and not being able to talk about half of it with her made Jason often uptight and edgy. But it was part of being a military family, so she could understand if a mission had gone bad, Ryder could be dealing with the repercussions of his career choice.
Or maybe the loss of someone he cared for.
Whatever it was, she’d sure been insanely insensitive.
“Why don’t you finish putting the popcorn string on the tree and then go upstairs and go to bed. We’ve got another exhausting day tomorrow, and I want to heat this up for Ryder and apologize to him, and that’s a grown-up conversation.”
“Sure thing.”
She kissed the top of Noah’s head and then went about heating up the lasagna and warming a piece of bread. It wasn’t homemade, but it was still pretty good. She set it all on a tray, along with a tall glass of water and headed down the hallway. She paused, seeing Ryder’s door open.
“Ryder? she called, peeking her head in.
Hearing the water run in the bathroom, she decided to bring the food in and set it on the bed. She was about call for him again when she saw a picture of a beautiful woman with a little boy.
A little boy who looked an awful lot like Ryder.
She glided her fingers across the edges of the image before lifting it with her shaky hand. The woman and the kid looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place them. But she knew she’d seen them before.
Somewhere.
“What the hell are you doing?” Ryder’s voice boomed across the room, bouncing off the walls like a rubber ball. He tossed a towel over his bare shoulder, glaring.
Dropping the picture as if it were on fire, she rubbed her hands together. “I was bringing you a snack, and the door was open.”
“So, that gives you the right to go through my things?”
“I did no such thing. The picture was on the bed.” She gasped, covering her mouth as fifty-eight different images flooded her mind.
Fifty-eight people dead.
Gunned down.
At the Regency Mall in Virginia Beach not far from NAB (Naval Amphibious Base) in Little Creek.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know about your family.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“You don’t know anything about me, my wife, or my son.” He snatched the picture up and stuffed it in his bag, tossing it haphazardly into the closet.
“I know that the two people in that picture were murdered. I know because I’m a desk editor for Channel 6 News.” She hadn’t been on the desk that day, since she was in Lake George last Christmas, but her friend had called seconds after the story came into the news station. Olivia had been glued to the television for hours and when she’d gotten home, she spent her first day back at work, looking over the story as they continued to cover the details and focused on the individuals.
“You live in Virginia Beach?” he asked with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw.
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. That wasn’t a question she had expected considering the conversation. “I live in Norfolk. Jason has a lot of family down there, so I just stayed.”
“We used to live on the river, but now I live in an apartment near downtown.” He rubbed his eyes, his gaze shifting about the room.
“What SEAL team are you with?” What a ridiculous question to ask. She should have said something comforting. Or at the very least, offered her condolences.
“Ten.” He ran his hand down his face, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks. “It will be one year on the twenty-sixth. I left Christmas night for a special assignment. I didn’t know Melissa and Owen had been killed until the twenty-eight. Her family was furious with me. Still are. Can’t say as I blame them either.” He let out a long breath, shaking his head.
“It’s not your fault.” She swallowed the thick lump in her throat.
“Her folks never liked my career and used to tell Melissa all the time I’d end up making her a widow…shit. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My parents never verbalized that thought
to Jason, but they did with me, especially when they found out Jason was fighter pilot and an adrenaline junkie. That was part of the reason I didn’t move back to Saratoga Springs, where Jason and I met. Part of why I don’t go home for the holidays. They always remind me that maybe if I had talked Jason out of going into the Navy in the first place, he’d still be alive.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“You’re telling me.” The one thing she hated more than anything was pity. She suspected that was true of Ryder, and she appreciated his candor. She snagged the bottle of Jack from the nightstand and sat on the bed taking a big gulp.
She gagged and coughed as the swill hit her stomach like flowing lava while he slapped her back.
“You okay?”
“I hate whiskey,” she mumbled.
He reached for the bottle, but she pulled it back, taking another swig.
“You didn’t want me drunk in front of Noah, and I’m sure you don’t want to be wasted around him either.”
“I won’t tell, if you don’t tell.” She handed him the bottle.
“Where is he?”
“He went to bed, and I told him not to come back down, since I needed to have a grown up conversation with you. Anyway, despite his peppy demeanor, that kid is exhausted.” She blinked, letting a couple tears break free and roll down her cheeks. “I know it’s just words, but I’m so sorry for your loss.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach, remembering what it was like to carry Noah around in her belly. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, so I won’t pretend I do.”
A throaty laugh filled the room.
“That’s not even remotely funny,” she said, watching as he took a swig from the bottle, cutting his laughter short.
“Everyone thinks they know what I’m going through. You, at least, understand what it’s like to lose a spouse. And not to know the details surrounding his death, well, I can’t imagine what that’s like. So, not being told how I should act or not act, is refreshing.”
“Not knowing the details of his death hasn’t given me much closure. The closest I’ve come to that is when you said he died a true hero. To me, that means he battled to the bitter end and that’s my Jason.”
