He reached his free hand across his body to hold her hand. “That probably helped you move on.”
“That and having Nathaniel. When everything’s stripped away so the only thing that’s left is your child’s happiness, your priorities get straightened out in a hurry. In some ways, Robert doing what he did was one of the best things that could happen to me and if his parents and my former friends all showed up tomorrow and said they were sorry and want us back, I’d say no. I’m going to put on my pajamas and play a game with my son.”
His thumb stroked circles in the palm of her hand. “I wish I could play, too, but we probably won’t be back before he goes to bed.”
The thought of Will sitting on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with them, being a part of their new Christmas Eve tradition, made her pulse quicken. “I’m sure he’ll want to play again on Christmas Day.”
“I also don’t wear pajamas, so that could be a problem.”
She laughed. “That would be awkward, yes.”
Will lifted his head to look at her clock, then dropped it back onto the pillow. “I really should get up and get dressed.”
“Probably.” He didn’t let go of her hand, though.
“Two more minutes.”
Trying to convince herself his reluctance to leave was more about not wanting to get dressed and go out in the cold rather than wanting to stay in bed with her, Christina closed her eyes. Two minutes more of Will holding her and stroking her palm wasn’t enough, but she’d take every minute she could get.
Chapter Nine
Will drove the forty minutes to his sister’s house while his mom kept up a very one-sided conversation from the shotgun seat. He wasn’t sure if she was that excited about spending Christmas Eve with her granddaughters, or if she was trying to keep them each from getting lost in their own thoughts, but he didn’t think she even took a breath for one two-mile stretch.
But about ten minutes from the house, she got quiet and Will decided that was worse. He glanced over to find her staring out her window, her mouth set in the firm line he recognized as a sign she was trying not to be emotional.
“Do you want to see if we can find a coffee shop or something open before we get there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Once I get my hands on those babies, I’ll be fine. I’m just...there’s a damn strawberry rhubarb pie in the backseat.”
Will reached over and put his hand over his mom’s. Nobody but his dad liked strawberry rhubarb pie, so his mom only ever made it once a year. It was one of her Christmas gifts to her husband and he often gloated about having an entire pie to himself.
The pie would go uneaten this year, but she’d made it anyway. Out of habit maybe, or because it made her feel close to the husband she’d lost.
“We’ll cut a slice out and all have a bite,” Will said. “For Dad.”
“The gagging sounds and spitting in napkins will be a lovely tribute,” she said, and they both laughed.
They were both in better spirits by the time he pulled into Erin’s driveway and cut the engine. After helping his mom out because there was just enough of a dusting of snow to make the pavement slick, he grabbed a bag of gifts out of the backseat. Between presents and food, he’d be making a few trips.
“Grammy!” he heard the girls yell as the front door opened. “Uncle Will!”
He set the bag down just in time to get an armful of girls in matching Christmas nightgowns. “Merry Christmas, kiddos.”
He’d been worried about coming—afraid it would hurt too much to see the happiness when his own had been taken—but his nieces were radiating excitement. And there was good food and good company and flying wrapping paper. It was impossible not to be happy to be there.
None of his trips back to New Hampshire had been for Christmas. His family had never pushed, seeming to understand it would be too hard, and had been thankful to have him for a big Easter dinner. The previous Christmas, he’d watched Dani and Alicia open their gifts from him in a video chat, but it didn’t compare to experiencing the joyful chaos live and in person.
Will was glad he’d come, and he let himself sit back and enjoy the holiday spirit.
He watched Corey lean down to speak quietly to Erin, his hand resting at the base of her neck. His sister smiled and nodded, and then Corey kissed her cheek before going into the kitchen. Then Erin leaned back in her chair and her smile was warm as she watched her daughters play.
Will’s heart ached, and he imagined another little girl sitting on the floor with Dani and Alicia. She would have been a little older than her cousins, and Emily would have enjoyed visiting with Erin and the rest of the family.
There was a time the sudden sense of what he’d lost would have punched him in the gut and probably sent him out of the house. He would have stood on his sister’s front porch, gulping frigid air in an effort not to shed tears.
But tonight he just watched his nieces and wondered if Nathaniel would be as excited about the trucks Will had bought him as the girls were about the little toolboxes and birdhouse kits he’d given them. Christina would sit and chat with his mom, both of them watching the boy with the same expression his sister had.
It wasn’t the same, of course. Christina and Nathaniel weren’t his family and, no matter how much they enjoyed each other’s company, Christina wasn’t looking to settle down with a man like him. But looking forward to seeing them in the morning gave him hope he might have this someday. His heart had been battered, but maybe it wasn’t as badly and permanently broken as he’d feared.
“Do you want some more coffee?” his mom asked, and he realized with a start she was standing next to him, holding out her hand for his empty mug.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“You were smiling,” she said, as if it was a strange occurrence, which he supposed in a way it was. “And a thousand miles away.”
“Just watching the girls play. And wondering if Nathaniel will like his trucks.”
She stroked his hair, pushing it back from his forehead like she had when he was little. “He’s going to love them. I just hope you’re prepared to spend time playing trucks in the snow with him.”
“Doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend Christmas.”
Even as he said the words, he realized how true they were. When the presents were all unwrapped, he and the kid could play outside for a while, and then Christina would make them hot cocoa. Maybe Nathaniel would do the puzzle his Grammy Gail had bought him and they’d all sit and watch him.
With a sigh, he looked down into his empty coffee cup. Then Christina and Nathaniel would go home and he’d go upstairs to his apartment and life would go on.
It was the holidays, he told himself. This strange sentimental phase he seemed to be going through would pass, he and Christina wouldn’t spend as much time together, and he could get back to living his life the way he had been before. A man didn’t have to fear losing what he didn’t have.
* * *
On Christmas morning, Christina was jolted awake by a flying bundle of seven-year-old joy landing on the mattress next to her.
“Merry Christmas!” he yelled so loudly there was a good chance everybody on the street heard him.
There was absolutely no chance of getting five more minutes, so she rolled off the bed and shoved her feet into her slippers. “Let’s go see if Santa came.”
She managed to hold him off long enough to make coffee by letting him open everything in his stocking. It was mostly toy cars and candy and some other small things, but she’d individually wrapped each item to prolong the fun.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him, her mug cradled in her hands, she watched Nathaniel open his gifts. He didn’t rip and tear, plowing through the pile, but savored the opening of each one.
Then he handed he
r an awkwardly wrapped package in Rapunzel paper and she set her coffee aside to take it.
“It’s your favorite princess, Mommy!”
“It is.” She gave him a bright smile, wondering who had helped him get the wrapping paper.
She broke through the tape, taking her time because the longer she took, the more he squirmed in excitement. Finally, she peeled the paper away to reveal a box for frozen pepperoni pizza and she laughed.
“You even got me my favorite topping.”
“No, silly.” He was on his knees, practically bouncing. “Open it!”
There was more tape to get through, and she took her time. It had been Will who helped him wrap it, then. Gail wouldn’t have gone through the recycling bin to pull out a pizza box. He might even have been the one who got the Rapunzel wrapping paper.
The image of Will and Nathaniel, heads bowed next to each other as they wrapped her gift together, made her smile.
“Hurry up, Mom! But be careful.”
She slid her nail through the last piece of tape and peeked into the pizza box. The wreath, with its green pasta and red berries and bow, made her heart swell. “It’s beautiful.”
“Do you think so? Will you hang it up?”
“It’s very beautiful. Where you do you think we should hang it?”
He helped her get to her feet, careful not to knock over her coffee, and they walked around the downstairs before deciding to hang it in the kitchen, on the basement door so it was the first thing they would see when they walked into the house.
“I have another present for you, too, but it’s at Grammy Gail’s house. Go get dressed!”
She managed to slow him down long enough to have some juice so she could take a shower. They’d already been invited to have breakfast with Gail and Will and then exchange gifts, since they’d gone to Erin’s house for Christmas Eve.
Two hours later, when they’d had their fill of pancakes and bacon, they all went to the living room. There were presents still under Gail’s tree and it had been driving Nathaniel crazy since he walked through the door.
The trucks Will gave Nathaniel made him squeal with happiness, and he also loved the hat and mittens Gail had knit for him. She’d made a shawl for Christina, which made her eyes burn with tears.
Nathaniel handed out the gifts from them—a ceramic bowl meant to hold a ball of yarn and feed it through a slit in the side for Gail and a store-bought sweater for Will because Christina thought it would match his eyes. Nathaniel had also picked out a small pocketknife for him, which made Will smile and give him a hug.
When she opened her gift from Will, Christina thought at first it was a card, which was sweet. But when she opened it, a gift certificate to one of the local hair salons fell into her lap and she smiled. It probably wasn’t a typical gift for a man to give a woman, but she thought it was just like him to remember she was still struggling with feeling free to spend money on herself.
“Thank you,” she told him.
He made an exaggerated face of relief, putting one hand over his heart. “I wasn’t sure if you’d take it the wrong way.”
“Once Nathaniel goes back to school, I’m going to schedule a hair day. It’ll feel totally decadent, so thank you. Really.”
“Okay, now?” Nathaniel asked Will when the gifts were all unwrapped, and then he whooped when Will nodded. “Come on, Mommy!”
They all went out to the garage, and Christina had to admit she was excited to see what they’d been up to out there all this time. Gail had her camera and took photos as they led her to a tarp in the corner.
“We ran out of Rapunzel wrapping paper,” Nathaniel said. “So we used a tarp. Are you ready?”
She nodded and Nathaniel grabbed a corner of the tarp. He tugged and the plastic slid to the ground, revealing a big wooden box.
A hope chest, she realized, and her throat tightened until she could hardly breathe. Tears flowed unchecked over her cheeks and her son wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Are you sad again, Mommy?”
“No, honey.” She hugged him and leaned down to kiss his hair. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten. I love it.”
Over the top of Nathaniel’s head, she looked at Gail and then at Will. She didn’t know a lot about wood, but it had to have been expensive to get all the supplies. Especially the cedar.
Will was smiling at Nathaniel, but then he looked up and met her eyes. She wasn’t sure why, but she somehow knew it had been Will’s idea to do this and it had obviously been him who’d done the work.
“How did you do this?” she mouthed.
“I traded for the wood, but Nathaniel made it almost all by himself.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, she’d turned back to the hope chest before the impact of his words hit her. They’d banned her from the garage, but now she looked around and realized what was missing.
Big Red. His three-wheeler was gone. The one he’d been punished with having to ride the school bus for and rebuilt with his dad wasn’t in the corner anymore. Staring at the empty spot, she remembered Will telling her his friend who owned the hardware store had been trying to buy it for years. He said he’d never sell.
She looked at Will, and he was blurry because her eyes were filling up with tears. “Thank you.”
His smile was warm and held no regret. “Merry Christmas.”
Nathaniel pulled out of her embrace. “There’s a book, Mom! Grammy Gail, where’s the book?”
“It’s inside.”
Nathaniel tugged on Christina’s hand. “Come on. Open it!”
Before she did, she ran her hand over the smooth wood. It was a simple box, and she liked that. The corners were reinforced with brass that matched the latch and when she opened it, she saw they’d even put in a brace to hold the lid open.
“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered, and then she saw the hands.
Inside the lid, carefully engraved with a router, were her handprint and Nathaniel’s handprint, and the date. She remembered the day Nathaniel had traced her hand on the red paper and got teary-eyed all over again.
Her son reached into the hope chest and pulled out a photo album, which he handed to her. She slowly flipped through the pages of the album, letting Nathaniel tell her about each picture. He told her about sanding and cutting and hammering and there was so much pride in his voice, she was surprised he didn’t burst.
The photos had been taken—either by Will or Gail, or both—carefully, capturing Nathaniel crafting the hope chest for her. But most of them also showed a glimpse of Will. His strong hand guiding Nathaniel’s, or just the edge of his arm as he hovered over the boy and the power tools.
He would be such an amazing dad.
“Now your last present!” Nathaniel pulled a sheet of paper from behind the recycling bins. “It can be your first hope and dream for your hope chest!”
Christina took the sheet of paper and felt her breath catch in her chest. He’d drawn them all. A little boy that looked just like him. On his left was the mom, with Christina’s blond hair and a big red smile. On his right was a man who could only be Will. He’d even drawn a car on the sweatshirt with a Christmas tree strapped to the top. And Grammy Gail was on the other side of Will, with a crayon shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
It was a family—his family—and it made her heart hurt.
* * *
Will felt as if the air had thinned somehow until he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs.
The boy had drawn his family—the people he loved—and Will was in it. He was standing next to Nathaniel in the spot where his father should be, but the details made it plain it wasn’t Robert Forrester in the picture.
He watched as Christina fussed over the hope chest some more, stopping every few minutes to hug her son, and hi
s mom took photos. All the while, he concentrated on breathing in and out without giving away his rising sense of panic.
They weren’t a family. Seeing them through Nathaniel’s eyes made Will realize what they could have if only he could be the man Christina wanted. But he wasn’t and the longer they went on acting like a family, the more it was going to hurt—both him and the kid—when they stopped pretending.
He couldn’t let them in any more than he already had.
For the rest of the day, he held himself back a little. With Nathaniel’s help, he managed to get the hope chest across the street and into Christina’s living room in one piece. He offered to bring it up to her bedroom and put it at the foot of her bed, but she said she wanted it in the living room for now, where she and Nathaniel could both enjoy looking at it.
Then he parked himself in front of the television and watched Christmas movies with Nathaniel. Dinner passed without any more emotional moments and, after dessert, he sent the women out to visit with Nathaniel while he cleaned up. When it was time for them to go home, he gave them each a quick hug and wished them a Merry Christmas.
It was relatively painless. The hard part would be slowly stepping out of their lives a little. Not totally because that would never happen while they were neighbors and while his mom watched Nathaniel. But with the hope chest done and the holidays essentially over, he could concentrate on work and doing some stuff around his mom’s house. Eventually their relationship would revert to being more about neighbors and less about family.
It only took three days for it to blow up in his face. He was in the garage, changing his mom’s headlights to a brighter aftermarket model when Christina walked out and pulled the door closed behind her.
“Need some help?”
“Nope.” He dug through his toolbox, looking for a wire crimper. “But thanks.”
“Nathaniel and your mom both fell asleep watching TV. It’s pretty cute, actually.”
Her Holiday Man Page 11
