Her Holiday Man

by Shannon Stacey

  “Your dad did the exact same thing when he was bored,” his mom said. “It’s a good thing you look more like my side of the family, or I’d think he was haunting me.”

  “I need to do something.”

  “I can’t think of anything that needs to be done. You’ve already done anything that needs doing.”

  Great. Maybe he’d go park himself at the diner’s counter and talk to the old men all day.

  “We should go Christmas shopping tomorrow,” his mom said, and Will groaned. That didn’t rank right up there on his list of favorite things to do, but at least it was something.

  “We could go today.”

  “If we go tomorrow, Christina and Nathaniel can go with us. We can go to the big mall in Manchester. Don’t they have that store where you make your own teddy bear? He loves stuffed animals.”

  He didn’t want to think about Christina today. It made him feel disloyal somehow, especially after their moment in the kitchen they’d been pretending never happened for the last five days. They were back to polite small talk now. But hearing Nathaniel’s name made him remember he was supposed to help the kid with something after school. At least there’d be that to do.

  “We could have a photo taken at the picture studio, too. Wouldn’t that be fun? With the four of us?”

  Alarm bells went off in Will’s head. “Why would we do that?”

  She shrugged, keeping her eyes on her knitting. “I just think it would be nice to have a picture of all of us to frame, that’s all.”

  “Don’t go there, Mom. I know Christina’s your friend and you enjoy having her son around, but this is not a one big happy family thing going on.”

  “It could be.”

  He knew it. He should have kept Christina and her son at arm’s length from the first time he met them. “I had a family. I had a wife and a child and I lost them. You can’t just...replace them.”

  “Of course not.” She gave him a look that splintered his heart into a million pieces. “You can never replace those you’ve loved and lost. I could never replace your father, William. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life being miserable and pining for him, either.”

  It was on the tip of his tongue to challenge that statement. How would she feel if he brought some older guy around, trying to set her up with a new relationship?

  But he didn’t say it. For one thing, he couldn’t stand the thought. His dad had only been gone half a year, and it was too soon to even consider it. And the last thing he wanted was to start a pissing match with his mother over which of them had suffered the most. His wife and the baby he’d never even got to meet had been killed in a horrific accident. But his mother had been married to his dad for almost forty years. It couldn’t be a competition.

  They both hurt. And she was his mother, so of course she wanted to make it better for him. But she couldn’t this time.

  “You’re stronger than I am,” he said softly. “I can’t do it again. I can’t...I just can’t.”

  “So you’re going to spend the rest of your life alone? Honey, Emily wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”

  He held up his hand and stood. “Don’t. Not today.”

  Her eyes widened and then she closed them for a moment. “I’m sorry. I forgot. No. I didn’t forget, I just didn’t realize the date today.”

  Crap. Guilt made him sit back down. He wasn’t trying to make his mom feel bad. “I don’t expect everybody to live their lives around the date, Mom. I’m just a little sensitive today. That’s all.”

  “Of course you are. Are you going to go to the cemetery?”

  He felt like he should. He’d been thinking about it all morning, but just the thought of the small granite stone made his stomach ache. Emily Smith Broughton & Her Beloved Infant Daughter.

  Will didn’t feel close to her there. All he felt was sadness and loss looking at that stone and he didn’t want to lay a rose on it, knowing it would begin to wither and brown from the moment he left.

  “Nathaniel made Christina a present at school,” he said. “I promised I’d help him wrap it after school today, before she gets home from work. And he wants special wrapping paper with some Disney princess on it because she’s her favorite. The one with the long blond hair that whacks a guy with a frying pan or something. So I’ll probably hit the stores to find some before he gets home.”

  “That’s Rapunzel, from Tangled,” his mom said, her lips curving into a smile. “Your nieces are obsessed with all of the princesses, but you might have trouble finding that particular one because it’s been a while since the movie came out.”

  “I’ll find it.” He looked at the clock. “But I guess I should head out now, just in case I have to make the trip to Concord for it.”

  “Good luck.” The words were fairly benign, but he didn’t miss the gleam in her eye.

  “Stop.” He laughed and shook his head. “I’m going to get the kid some wrapping paper. It’s not like he can drive himself to the store.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “I can practically hear the wheels in your brain turning. I’m just doing the neighbor’s kid a favor.”

  It turned out to be one hell of a favor. Not a single store in town had wrapping paper with the right princess, so he made the drive to the city. After the second store turned out to be a dead end, he got smart and sat in the parking lot to call around. Then he called his mom to tell her he wasn’t going to make it back in time to be there when Nathaniel got home. The boy should hide the gift and they’d wrap it when he got back. If Christina showed up, Gail should distract her.

  A few more phone calls later, he found a roll of the damn wrapping paper. After driving to the other end of the city for it, he fought the Friday evening traffic which saw the usual commuters clogged up with skiers heading north.

  It was stupid to waste most of a day on wrapping paper, he told himself. They’d had Christmas paper with Disney princesses on it right in his own town. But they hadn’t been the right ones and Nathaniel had insisted the one with the really long hair was Christina’s favorite.

  He glanced at the roll of paper on the passenger seat and smiled. He just didn’t have it in him to let the boy down.

  * * *

  Something was up, though Christina couldn’t put her finger on what. Nathaniel had actually been disappointed to see her walk through Gail’s front door, which was a first. And then, when Will showed up, they’d disappeared into the garage doing who knew what.

  “What are they doing out there?” she finally asked Gail when she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Christmas is the season for not asking questions, young lady.”

  “I hope he’s not bugging Will. He has a tendency to be in the way.”

  “If he gets in the way, Will won’t be shy about sending him inside.”

  She wished they’d hurry. There was a roast in the slow cooker and she was starving. She hadn’t anticipated having to wait around while her son and Will did a secret project.

  “It won’t take long,” Gail said, and Christina realized she’d been drumming her fingers on the counter. “That’s a pretty sweater.”

  “Thanks.” She looked down at the thick sweater coat she’d thrown over her QuickStop polo shirt. It was a blend of heathery blues and greens and tan, and was one of her favorites.

  Gail fingered the knit, looking more closely at it. “You know, I have some merino wool that exact shade of green. I could knit a beautiful scarf to go with that. Stay here. I’m going to run upstairs and grab it just to make sure it’s the right shade.”

  Before Christina could protest, she was gone. Gail had chicken breasts roasting in the oven and the aroma was making her stomach grumble. Being left in the kitchen while her own supper was waiting was torture.

  When the door to the ga
rage opened, she hoped it meant Nathaniel was ready to go, but it was Will who walked into the kitchen. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She went upstairs to dig through her yarn stash.”

  He frowned and crossed his arms. “We need tape. Little kids are not good at handling tape.”

  Being alone in the kitchen with him again made her think of the night they’d decorated the tree and he’d almost kissed her. She’d gotten scared and run from him, and things had been slightly awkward between them since. “I don’t know where she keeps it. Did you check her computer desk?”

  “I’ve checked all the usual places, and I can’t find any. There’s no way my mom would run out of tape in December.”

  “I’m dying of curiosity, you know.”

  He gave her a stern look. “You’re not allowed to ask questions in December.”

  “That’s what your mom said, too.”

  “And no using maternal super powers to weasel secrets out of the kid. He’s excited and he’ll be sad if he gives it away.”

  “I promise.” She smiled. “It won’t be easy, but I won’t ask any questions. And it’s less than two weeks to wait. Thirteen days, I think. Today’s the twelfth, right?”

  His expression darkened and his jaw clenched before he gave a sharp nod. “Yeah. It’s the twelfth.”

  “Are you okay?” She didn’t want to pry, but he wasn’t shy about asking her that question.

  “Yeah.” He shrugged. “Today’s the anniversary of...you know, the accident.”

  “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what to say. “I didn’t know.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m trying not to focus on it, you know? I’d rather it just go back to being a day in December, thirteen days before Christmas.”

  “I felt like that when my wedding anniversary came and went. I just wanted to pretend it was a random day in August.”

  “I guess you know a little bit about how I feel.” He gave her a sad smile.

  “I can’t compare what I went through to what you suffered. A lot of people get divorced.”

  He shrugged. “We both lost what we thought our lives would be and have to make new ones.”

  “How’s yours going?”

  “I have good days and bad.” He looked like he was going to say more, but he frowned again. “Be a lot better if I had some damn tape.”

  They both looked around, and she found a roll in the junk drawer. “Here’s some.”

  “Thanks.” He took it from her, but paused before going back to the garage. “Supper smells good.”

  Then he was gone. Christina sighed and snuck a chocolate chip cookie from the jar on the counter and sat down to wait for Gail.

  * * *

  Will could rebuild a Ford 305 engine with his eyes closed, but he was about one more piece of tape from crying uncle and begging his mom to help Nathaniel wrap his gift.

  It was the classic wreath, with pinwheel pasta painted green and glued to cardboard. The groups of red berries appeared to be painted clay balls and a glittery red bow was glued crookedly to the top.

  The thing did not want to be wrapped. After several tries of using just paper, Nathaniel had suggested the wreath needed to be in a box because it had a funny shape. Rummaging through the recycling bin had turned up the box from a frozen pizza, which was the perfect size.

  “She’s going to think I got her a pepperoni pizza,” Nathaniel said with obvious glee.

  He’d put Nathaniel in charge of the paper first, but he kept tearing it with the box corners. He took over and handed the kid the tape. That was a mistake. It was in the boy’s hair, on his shirt, on the basement floor and there was even a piece stuck to his mom’s car because that’s where it landed when Nathaniel flung it because it was stuck to him.

  Once he’d found the second roll, he’d looked at Nathaniel. “Okay, kid. We’re burning through wrapping paper here and I can tell you this was the only roll of Rapunzel paper in twenty miles. This might also be the last roll of tape in the house.”

  “Okay. I’ll be careful.” Then he pulled off a ten-inch strip of tape which ended up tangled around his wrist.

  With a lot of patience and a few bad words he didn’t say out loud, Will helped the kid cover the pizza box with the princess paper completely and tape it all together. It wasn’t pretty and Christina might need a machete to hack through the packaging, but it was done.

  Nathaniel held it in his hands. “I hope she loves it.”

  Will hadn’t experienced getting school-made gifts for himself, but he remembered his mom’s reaction to every gift he’d ever made her as a child. “Remember the weird reindeer head made out of felt on the Christmas tree?”

  The boy nodded, grinning. “It was pretty funny looking.”

  “But my mom said it was one of her favorites, right? I made that when I was in second grade and she loved it. Your mom will love your wreath just like that.”

  “I bet she’ll keep it forever.” Nathaniel stopped smiling. “She would probably keep it in her special hope chest, but the men took it. They took all our stuff.”

  Those would be the men from the auction company, Will thought, or whoever had handled the sale of their belongings to pay off the jerk’s debts. “But you have new stuff now, and your mom’s taking care of things so nobody will ever take your stuff again.”

  “I know, but it was sad.” Nathaniel gave a tiny shrug of one shoulder that made Will want to beat the crap out of the kid’s father. “Mom was really sad when they took her hope chest. She even cried in the bathroom. She loved it lots because she said it’s where women keep their hopes and dreams in.”

  “Maybe she’ll get another chest and have new hopes and dreams.”

  “They cost lots of money.”

  “I don’t know about that. You can use a cardboard box if that’s what you have. It doesn’t matter what you hold your hopes and dreams in, as long as you hold on to them.”

  Nathaniel didn’t look too sure, but before Will could say more, his mom stuck her head into the garage. “Christina wants to get Nathaniel home and feed him, so I hope you’re almost done.”

  “We’re done,” Will said. “He’ll be right in.”

  “Thank you for helping me. And for getting her favorite wrapping paper.” He held the present out to Will. “Will you hide it for me? I don’t want her to guess what it is.”

  If Christina could guess it was a pasta wreath in a pepperoni pizza box from the lumpy package in his hands, she was probably psychic. “I’ll hide it for you. And remember, it’s a secret.”

  Once Nathaniel was gone, Will went up to his apartment. Christina was sometimes in the garage to help his mom with groceries or the recycling, so that wasn’t a good hiding place. He decided to put it in his closet, just in case the women got it in their heads he needed housecleaning help.

  But as he passed by his bed, the double wedding ring quilt his mom and her friends had stitched for them caught his eye and he set Nathaniel’s gift on the bed.

  He pulled the quilt off and drew in a deep breath at the sight of Emily’s hope chest. It had been his wedding gift to her. Closing his eyes, he remembered the way she’d thrown her arms around his neck and kissed all over his face, not caring that they’d already done her makeup. Then they’d whisked her away to put on her gown and the next time he’d seen her was at the end of the church aisle.

  Will’s hand shook as he pushed the button to release the locking mechanism, and then he lifted the lid. The smell of cedar filled his sinuses and he released the breath he’d been holding.

  Right on top, the last thing Emily had ever put in the hope chest, was the ultrasound photo. He stared at the fuzzy black and white image, his gaze tracing the tiny profile with its tiny bump of a nose. It was stupid, he knew, but he imagined it looked like Emily’s nose and their dau
ghter would have looked like her.

  He knew that under the photograph were the layers of Emily’s life. A tattered Holly Hobbie doll she’d had since she was little. Her diplomas and graduation tassels. The velvet box her engagement ring had been nestled in when he took her on the tram to the top of Cannon Mountain and asked her to be his wife. Keepsakes from their wedding. And the first few rows of a pink baby blanket on a circular knitting needle with the ultrasound photo next to it.

  There was so much space left in the chest. So many more layers of Emily’s life she’d never get to treasure.

  Releasing a shuddering breath, Will closed the chest and smoothed the quilt back over the top. It was painful, seeing the bits and pieces of their life together, and so was imagining Christina having something so special and personal taken from her on top of all the other losses she’d suffered.

  A woman should have a place to keep her treasures from the past and her hopes and dreams for the future.

  Chapter Six

  Saturdays for Christina usually meant spending time with Nathaniel and catching up on some housecleaning, but Gail had enlisted his help to make cookies and buckeyes for her holiday baskets. Though she wasn’t sure how much help a seven-year-old in a kitchen full of cookie dough, peanut butter and melted chocolate would be, Christina was thankful to have a little time to finish up her own Christmas preparations.

  Thanks to layaway and a few big sales, her shopping was done, but she’d been putting off the wrapping. It was one more task the housekeeping staff had handled for her and one more reminder of how many things she didn’t know how to do.

  But if there was one thing she’d learned about herself, it was that she could do anything. Maybe not perfectly, but she’d get things done. And when the pile of presents she would put under the tree after Nathaniel went to bed on Christmas Eve was wrapped, she felt a surge of satisfaction. He wouldn’t even notice the lumpy paper, crooked tape, or the lack of elegant ribbons and bows.

  Feeling proud of herself, Christina loaded the presents into a plastic laundry basket, which she carried into the basement to hide behind a pile of boxes that belonged to the Porters. Not that she thought Nathaniel would venture down the off-limits stairs, but she hid them anyway, just in case.