“Why did you want to come here today?” he asked her.
She was silent for a minute before responding. “Because Harley’s request about her dad brought back some painful memories.”
As a man who carefully guarded his own secrets, he was reluctant to pry into hers. On the other hand, she’d invited him to come here with her today, which suggested that she wanted someone to talk to.
He lowered himself onto the rock beside her, sitting close enough that their shoulders were touching. “What kind of memories?”
“When I was just about Harley’s age, I went to see Santa and asked him to bring my sister home from the hospital in time for Christmas.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Bailey admitted, surprised by her revelation.
“I don’t.” She unfolded her legs and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “Not anymore.”
He didn’t prompt her for more information. She would tell him more when she was ready.
“I was an only child for the first six years of my life,” she began. “An only child who begged for a brother or sister. And when my parents finally told me that there was a baby in my mommy’s tummy, I couldn’t wait for her to be born.
“I don’t know if my parents knew for sure that they were having a girl, but I always thought of her as my sister. It was probably wishful thinking on my part, because I was seven, and I thought boys were mostly gross and dumb and I really wanted a sister.”
She paused for a minute, gathering her thoughts—or maybe her composure.
“Then something went wrong, and my mom had to go into the hospital early. It must have been just before Halloween, because I was sucking on a lollipop that I’d stolen out of the bucket of candy my mom had bought for trick-or-treaters when Grams came into my room and told me that she was going to be staying with us for a few days.
“Miriam was born six weeks before her due date. I remember asking my grandmother why she didn’t seem happy when she told me the news. She said it was because the baby was too small and that she might not make it.
“I didn’t understand what she meant. The only information that registered with me was that I finally had a sister.
“So my grandmother bluntly told me that Miriam might die. I refused to believe it. Babies didn’t die. Old people died. And I demanded to meet my sister.
“A few days later, Grams finally gave in and took me up to the hospital to see my parents and the baby. Miriam was in an incubator, though of course I didn’t know what it was at the time. I only knew that she had tubes stuck in various parts of her body and she didn’t look anything like a baby—at least nothing like Mr. and Mrs. Wakefield’s baby, the focus of everyone’s attention and well wishes at church earlier that morning.
“I think I started to cry, because my dad picked me up and tried to soothe me. And my mom got mad at Grams for bringing me to the hospital, but she argued that it was important for me to see my sister, in case anything happened.
“This made my mom cry and my dad told her to go. But I got to stay for a while, snuggling with my mom while my dad told us that everything was going to be fine, because Mimi—that’s what we called her—was strong, just like me. And he promised that we’d all be celebrating Christmas together in a few weeks.
“And he was right, although it wasn’t really as simple or easy as that. Mimi had to stay in the hospital until she was a lot bigger and stronger, and the doctors warned that could take several weeks or even months.
“One night, in mid-December, my dad said that he had a surprise. Instead of going to the hospital, he took me to the local mall to see Santa.” Serena nudged Bailey playfully with her shoulder. “Back then, it was what you did to see the big guy, because we didn’t have a community center in town or any handsome cowboys willing to put on a padded red suit.”
Taking his cue from her deliberate attempt to lighten the mood, Bailey lifted his brows. “You think I’m handsome?”
“To quote Ellie Traub, ‘all those Stockton boys are handsome devils.’”
“Good to know,” he said, equal parts flattered and embarrassed by the older woman’s assessment. “But you were telling me about your visit to Santa.”
“Right,” she agreed. “My dad took me to see Santa and I thought of all the wishes I’d carefully printed on my Christmas list to decide which one I wanted most of all. That year, it was a toss-up between Mouse Trap, the board game, and a new pair of ballet slippers. But when it was finally my turn, all I could think was that I wanted my baby sister to come home from the hospital for Christmas.”
“Did Santa deliver?” he asked gently.
She nodded. “Mimi came home the afternoon of December 24. It was as if we got our very own Christmas miracle. The next morning, I didn’t even race downstairs to see if Santa had left any presents under the tree. Instead, I rushed across the hall to the nursery, to make sure she was still there.
“And she was. The Mouse Trap game and ballet slippers that I unwrapped later were bonuses—all I really wanted was my sister. Of course, she needed a lot of attention,” Serena continued. “And I was happy to give it to her. Happy to finally have the sister I’d always wanted.
“If she cried, I wanted to be the one to pick her up. If she was hungry, I wanted to give her a bottle. Even when she was content to sit in her high chair or play swing, I was there, reading to her or singing the songs I’d learned at school. Long before she could talk, she would clap her hands and kick her feet whenever she listened to music.”
She smiled at the memory. “And Christmas carols were her favorite. Maybe not that first Christmas,” she acknowledged. “That year she mostly seemed fascinated by the colored lights and sparkly ornaments on the tree. But by the following year, when she was thirteen months old, she was munching on sugar cookies and tearing the bows and paper off presents. The year after that, she shook colored sugar onto the cookies before she ate them and even helped hang some sparkly ornaments on the tree.”
Serena dropped her chin to her bent knees, her gaze focused on something in the distance—or maybe something in the past. “And then, just a few weeks after her third birthday, she disappeared.”
Chapter Six
Disappeared?
Just when Bailey started to think he knew where the story was leading, it took a major detour. He caught the sheen of moisture in Serena’s eyes, noted the tension in the arms that hugged her legs tight. He shifted on the rock so that he was sitting behind her, his legs splayed to bracket her hips, his arms wrapped around her.
“My parents had planned a special trip for all of us,” she continued. “We went to Missoula to participate in the Parade of Lights and enjoy a performance of The Nutcracker. Of course, Mimi was too young to understand the show and she fidgeted through the whole thing, but I’d been dancing for five years by then, and I was completely entranced. Next to Mimi, that was the best Christmas present I’d ever received.
“The morning of our planned return to Rust Creek Falls, we stopped at the Holiday Made Fair so that my parents could do some last-minute shopping. It was crowded with booths and toys and goodies and lots of people. I was under strict instructions to hold tight to Mimi’s hand, and I did.” She swallowed. “Until I didn’t.”
He hugged her a little tighter, a wordless offer of comfort and encouragement.
“She saw the doll first,” Serena said, resuming her narrative. “It was a replica of the Sugar Plum Fairy and she pulled me to it. There was a whole bin of them, and Mimi tugged her hand from mine so that she could pick one up. And I picked up another one, admiring the intricate details of her costume, and I turned to show Mimi something, but she wasn’t there anymore.
“It happened that fast,” she said, her voice hollow. “She was right beside me...and then she was gone. My parents were, of course, frantic. We didn’t celebrate the holidays—we were too
busy looking for Mimi. But she’d disappeared without a trace. The police got all kinds of tips and followed countless leads, but nothing ever panned out. As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, we began to lose hope that she would ever come home again.
“I know she’s out there somewhere,” Serena insisted. “And I believe with my whole heart that she’s alive...just lost to us.
“By the summer, my mother was self-medicating with alcohol. I didn’t know what that meant, except that I heard my dad say it to my grandmother. I did know that my mom stumbled around a lot, ran her words together so that sometimes I couldn’t understand what she was saying, and slept a lot. And, of course, my parents fought. All the time. Several months later, before Christmas the following year, my dad took off.”
And only a few days earlier, Bailey had accused Serena of not understanding that happiness was a fickle emotion that could be snatched away without warning. No wonder she’d cautioned him about making assumptions, because she did understand. Because she’d experienced a loss as profound as his own.
“He left a note,” she continued. “It wasn’t like when Mimi disappeared. But the note didn’t say much more than that he felt as if he’d failed his family, and every day with us—without Mimi—was a reminder of that.”
“I’m so sorry, Serena.” The words sounded so meaningless, even to his own ears, but they were all he had to offer.
“There wasn’t anything joyful about Christmas that year, either,” she said.
“I can only imagine how difficult it would be to celebrate anything after losing a child,” he acknowledged.
“Mimi’s disappearance was devastating for all of us,” Serena agreed. “But my parents had two children—and they didn’t lose both of them.”
But Serena had effectively lost both of her parents after the disappearance of her sister. And Bailey suspected that she’d been deeply scarred by it.
“Of course, my mom’s drinking got even worse after my dad left. And Child Protective Services got involved in the New Year after my teacher called to report that I frequently wore the same clothes to school several days in a row and sometimes didn’t have any food in my lunch box.
“That’s when my grandmother came to stay with us again. She tried to get my mother back on track—and Amanda tried to stop drinking. But inevitably, after a few weeks—or sometimes not more than a few days—she’d decide that she needed ‘just one drink’ to take the edge off her pain and emptiness. Of course, one drink always turned into two and then three, until eventually she’d end up passed out on the sofa.”
Bailey had been there—alone in that dark place where it seemed that nothing could take the edge off his aching emptiness and the only recourse was to drown his sorrows. He didn’t do that anymore, but he could appreciate that it was a slippery slope and he was grateful that he’d managed to find his footing before he’d slipped too far.
“After a few such incidents, my grandmother talked her into going to rehab. She completed a thirty-day inpatient program and, when she came home, assured us that she’d turned a corner. A few days later, on what would have been her thirteenth wedding anniversary, she got drunk again.”
“Significant dates and special occasions are triggers for a lot of people,” he observed.
Serena nodded. “But as much as my grandmother was worried about her daughter’s downward spiral, she was even more worried about me. So she packed up all my stuff and brought me to Rust Creek Falls to live with her. And she told my mother that, when she was ready to prove that her daughter was more important than the contents of a bottle, she would be welcome to stay with her, too.”
“Sounds like a strong dose of tough love,” Bailey remarked.
“It was tough on Grams, too. She wanted to make everything right, but she couldn’t fight Amanda’s addiction. So she focused her attention and efforts on me. I had sporadic contact with Amanda over the next few years,” she confided. “I still feel guilty saying this out loud, but those were some of the most normal—and best—years of my childhood. Maybe it was a little strange that I lived with my grandmother rather than my mother or father, but I had no cause for complaint. I had regular meals and clean clothes, willing help with homework and even a chaperone for occasional school trips.”
“I’m glad you had her,” Bailey said.
“I was lucky,” Serena acknowledged.
He hadn’t had the same fortune when he lost his parents. In fact, Matthew and Agnes Baldwin had essentially told their three oldest grandsons to fend for themselves—and allowed their two youngest granddaughters to be adopted, forcing the split of seven children grieving the deaths of their parents.
“Does your grandmother still live in Rust Creek Falls?” he asked Serena now.
She shook her head. “A few years ago, after I’d graduated from college and she was sure my mother’s life was back on track, she decided her old bones couldn’t handle the cold any longer, and she moved to Arizona.” She smiled a little. “It’s been good for her. She’s taken up golf, plays bridge and does water aerobics—and she’s got a new beau.”
“You can be happy for her and still miss her,” Bailey assured her.
“I do miss her,” she admitted. “But I’ve also realized that I maybe relied on her too much. I don’t think the warmer climate was her only reason for leaving Rust Creek Falls. I think she wanted me to stand on my own two feet—not to see if I could, but to show me that I could. Because she always had a lot more confidence in me than I had in myself.”
“I’d say her faith was well-founded.”
“My grandmother’s a wise woman,” she acknowledged. “She’s the one who taught me to focus on my happy memories of the holidays.”
“That couldn’t have been easy,” he noted. In fact, considering how much heartache she’d endured—and so much of it focused around this time of year—he might have found the task impossible.
“It took me a while to look past all the bad stuff and remember the good stuff,” she confided to him. “Although we only celebrated three Christmases together with Mimi, those were the happiest Christmases of my life. Every memory of my sister is a happy memory, and she loved everything about Christmas.”
“You’re an amazing woman, Serena Langley.”
“I’m not sure about that,” she said. “But focusing on the happy memories is the one thing—the only thing—I can do that helps me get through. And in remembering Mimi’s holiday joy, I’ve rediscovered my own.”
Her outgoing and optimistic demeanor had led him to make certain assumptions about her, but those assumptions couldn’t have been more wrong. Not knowing what to say to her now, certain there were no words to express his regrets and sympathy, he merely pulled her closer.
Serena dropped her head back against his shoulder, and when her lips curved a little as she looked up at him, he knew that he was forgiven for what he’d said the other day.
And then his head tipped forward...and his lips brushed against hers.
He hadn’t consciously decided to kiss her. Sure, he’d given the idea more than a passing thought. And yeah, he’d wondered if her lips would be as soft as they looked or taste as sweet as he imagined. And maybe, when they’d been dancing at the Presents for Patriots fund-raiser, he’d considered breaching the scant distance that separated their mouths.
But he’d resisted the impulse, because he knew that kissing her was a bad idea for a lot of reasons. First, after the breakdown of his marriage, he was wary of any kind of romantic involvement. Second, even if he was looking to get involved, it would be a mistake to hook up with a woman who was both a colleague and friend of his sister-in-law. Third—
He abandoned his mental list in favor of focusing on the moment—and the fact that Serena was kissing him back. And her lips were as soft as they looked, and their taste was even sweeter than he’d imagined.
And he real
ized that sitting on Owl Rock and kissing Serena was the absolute highlight of his day. His week. His month. Possibly even his whole year.
He lifted a hand to cup the back of her head, his fingers diving through silky strands of hair, tilting her head so that he could deepen the kiss. She didn’t protest when his tongue slid between her lips but met it with her own.
He wrapped his other arm around her middle and dragged her onto his lap. Her arms lifted to his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He wanted to touch her; he wanted his hands on her bare skin. But they were outside in Montana in December, which meant there were at least a half dozen layers of clothing and outerwear between them.
After a while—two minutes? Ten? He didn’t know, he’d lost all track of time while he was kissing her—she drew her mouth away from his.
“Maybe we should...slow things down,” she suggested a little breathlessly.
He took a moment to draw the sharp cold air into his own lungs. “That would probably be the smart thing to do,” he agreed. “But it’s not what I want to do.”
“Right now, it’s not what I want, either,” she admitted. “But I haven’t had much success with romantic relationships and I don’t want to jeopardize our fledgling friendship by trying to turn it into something more.”
“I suck at relationships, too,” he told her. “I’m not sure I’m much better at friendships.”
“You seem to be doing okay so far.”
He appreciated the vote of confidence, but he remained dubious. “You think we’re friends?”
“I think we could be,” she said.
“Hmm,” he said, considering.
“Unless you have so many friends that you don’t want another one?”
He chuckled softly. “Before I came back to Rust Creek Falls last year, I’d been gone for a dozen years and lost touch with not just my family but my friends.”
Bring Me a Maverick for Christmas! Page 7
