Vacation

by Jane Green

  And Walker and Maggie have changed so much. In just a few months it seems they have grown louder, more confident. Both of them are crawling all over him, talking talking talking, each of them having so much to say, their excitement making their words spill and stumble together as Eddie laughs. In the old days he would have sent them off to watch television, and now he just wants to be with them.

  In the family room the television stays off. Eddie sits on the floor and roughhouses as the kids shriek with laughter and hang off his neck.

  “Daddy?” Walker says after a while. “Are you home now forever? Are you staying?”

  Eddie takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, Walk. My work is still in Chicago but we’ll have to see what happens.”

  Maggie starts to tear up. “Please don’t go, Daddy,” she says, and Eddie scoops both of them up and hangs them upside down.

  “Who wants to go to the diner for supper?” he says, as they giggle hysterically, not used to their father playing with them like this.

  “Yay! Me!” the kids shout.

  “And who’s going to leave milk and cookies out for Santa tonight?” Eddie shouts, as he places them gently on the floor.

  “We are!” They dance around him again.

  “Dad?” Walker says eagerly. “You know what Santa’s bringing me this year?”

  “Hmmm.” Eddie pretends to think hard. “A Barbie jeep?”

  “No! That’s for me!” Maggie shouts.

  “Oh, okay. A pair of socks?”

  “Ew! No! He’s bringing me a light saber and an army jeep and a cool robot thing from the movie.”

  “I don’t think Santa will be able to carry all those things, Walk, but I’m sure he’ll manage one of them. Maybe even two.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Walker says. “I hope it’s the army jeep and the light saber.”

  Eddie thinks about the enormous robot sitting in his suitcase. “Are you crazy? The robots are the coolest thing in the world. If I were you I’d want the robot.”

  “Oh, yeah, Dad. I do. I want the robot.”

  “We just have to remember to leave the milk and cookies.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later Sarah comes downstairs, feeling beautiful and confident in her black cocktail dress and heels. She debated putting her hair up but remembered how much Eddie always loved it down, so she left it softly curling on her shoulders.

  “Mommy, you look beautiful!” Walker says, as Sarah enters the family room, and Eddie’s heart skips a beat as he lets out a soft wolf whistle. Damn. He didn’t want to be so obvious but she looks more beautiful than he’s seen her look in years.

  “Obviously I’m not the only one who’s changed.” He smiles. “You look beautiful, Sarah.”

  “Thank you,” she says. “I made meatloaf for dinner, which is in the fridge. You just have to heat it up for about a minute in the microwave, and then the kids can have I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M. . . .”

  “Ice cream!” Walker leaps up and down. “I want ice cream for dinner.”

  “Actually,” Eddie says, “I thought I’d take the kids to the diner for dinner. If that’s okay with you.”

  “Oh,” Sarah says. “Sure.” Of course it’s okay, but Eddie has never offered to do anything with the kids before. In fact, she doesn’t remember him ever having taken them anywhere by himself just for the sheer fun of it.

  “So have fun at your party,” Eddie says, forcing himself to turn away from Sarah. “See you later.”

  “Great. Sure. Have a good time.”

  * * *

  “But he looks ten years younger!” Sarah sits at Caroline’s kitchen table while Caroline pours her a glass of white wine. “God. He looks like the old Eddie.”

  Caroline raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to say you fancy him again?”

  “No!” Sarah says, a little too quickly. “Don’t be ridiculous. Just because he’s changed on the outside doesn’t mean he’s changed on the inside.”

  “And what if he has?”

  “I’m sure he hasn’t.”

  “But if he has?”

  Sarah shrugs, thinking about the young, energetic Eddie she said good-bye to half an hour ago, and she leans her head on the table and groans. “Oh, God. Now I’m all confused again. This morning I was ready to sit down and tell him I wanted a divorce. Now I don’t know.” And suddenly she stands up. “I’m going to go to the diner. Damn it. The only way I’m going to know is to be around him, see if he really has changed. Do you mind?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I was going to say the same thing myself.” Caroline gives her a big hug. “Good luck.”

  * * *

  “Mommy!” Maggie sees her first and bounces up and down in her seat, holding her arms out for Sarah to give her a hug and a kiss.

  “Hi, guys,” Sarah says, feeling suddenly rather sheepish, not to mention overdressed, for the diner.

  “That was quick.” Eddie looks at his watch. “What happened?”

  “Oh, you know. The party was filled with too many people drinking too much. And I thought that I should really be with my kids on Christmas Eve.”

  “I know how that feels,” Eddie says, as he slides a menu over to her.

  “So what’s everybody having?”

  “Pancakes and French fries!” Walker says.

  “French fries and French fries!” Maggie says.

  Eddie shrugs, an apologetic smile on his face. Actually, he hasn’t been able to stop smiling since Sarah walked in. He knew it was a ruse. Of course it was a ruse. Did she think he hadn’t got to know her at all in the years they’d been married? If she turns up at the diner then this marriage will work again, he had told himself. If she turns up at the diner then I know there’s hope.

  Sarah thinks about saying something, insisting on something healthier.

  “It is Christmas Eve.” Eddie shrugs, by way of explanation.

  “Fine,” she says. “I guess I’ll have the French toast then.”

  * * *

  Sarah and Eddie don’t talk much over dinner. Most of the talking is done by the children, their attention focused on Eddie, and Sarah is surprised to find how comfortable she is.

  She hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to be sitting here with Eddie and the children, hadn’t expected Eddie to be so interested in the children, and hadn’t expected any of this to feel so . . . normal.

  It isn’t that it feels wonderful. Or special. Or unique. It just feels as if they are a family again, which in itself is something Sarah had forgotten. It is a feeling of contentment that surfaces, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed it. Not just during the weeks that Eddie has been gone, but during the last few years. This, she realizes, sitting at the table, is the kind of father she’d always hoped Eddie would be. This is the kind of family she’d always hoped to have. Is it possible that she could finally have it at last?

  * * *

  By eight o’clock the children are in bed. Walker insists he’s going to stay up to see Santa come down the fireplace, but when Sarah checks on him ten minutes later, he’s fallen asleep in his bed, sitting up, with books scattered all over the comforter, clutching onto his favorite stuffed monkey.

  Eddie appears behind her and walks over to Walker, gently removing the books, laying him down, and placing a kiss on his forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, as he turns off the bedside lamp, and Sarah has to blink away the tears.

  She lets Eddie check on Maggie as she goes downstairs and starts clearing up the mess the kids made as they baked chocolate chip cookies for Santa.

  She had fully expected Eddie to do his usual disappearing act, but he had sat at the kitchen table with the children and helped them roll out the dough, cutting out the cookies with reindeer-shaped cookie cutters, then had insisted on taking them upstairs and giving them a bath himself.

  Sarah had started to feel almost redundant. It was like a role reversal. There was her husband, her husband who had been so useless with the children, suddenly being Mr. Mom whi
le she was left sitting on the sidelines, and of course the children were only interested in Daddy, which was to be expected. But still. She couldn’t help feeling left out.

  While Eddie had been bathing the kids Sarah had snuck into her office and phoned Caroline.

  “This is getting more confusing,” she had said. “I just don’t know what to make of him.”

  “Just enjoy it,” Caroline had advised. “And if I were you I’d pour myself a stiff drink.”

  And so she had.

  * * *

  Sarah finishes cleaning up the mess as Eddie walks downstairs, and as soon as he enters the room she feels the tension. Now that the kids are asleep it is uncomfortable. This, at least, is what she was expecting.

  “The wall looks great. Or, rather, lack of it,” Eddie says.

  “Oh, yes. Thanks.”

  Eddie sighs. “I’m sorry I never got around to getting that done.”

  Sarah shrugs. “It’s done now.”

  “Do you mind if I join you in a glass of wine?”

  “No. Sure. The bottle’s on the table.”

  Eddie helps himself to a glass and pours himself the wine.

  “Sarah,” he says eventually, and she knows he’s going to ask to sit down and talk, and suddenly she doesn’t want him to. Suddenly she wants to put it off, because what seemed so certain this morning suddenly seems so up in the air.

  “Eddie,” she interrupts him. “We have to do the talcum powder thing and get all the gifts together.”

  Eddie grins, relieved at putting the talk off, not sure yet quite what he’s going to say. “Okay,” he says. “You get the powder, and I’ll go out and bring my gifts in from the car.”

  Sarah sprinkles the powder from the fireplace to the Christmas tree, and sits back as Eddie treads big footprints through the powder, creating the effect of Santa walking through a sprinkling of snow.

  “Sarah,” Eddie says, as he refills both their glasses once they’ve finished laying the gifts at the base of the tree, “please don’t take this personally, but the tree looks terrible.”

  Sarah, slightly buzzed from the wine, snorts with laughter. “I know I shouldn’t be passing blame onto a five-year-old, but Walker did it all by himself.”

  “God bless him.” Eddie laughs. “I kind of figured as much given that the decorations don’t reach any higher than his head. I can’t deal with it. Please say we can redo it. We can tell him Santa did it.”

  “Thank goodness!” Sarah laughs. “I didn’t have the heart to redo it myself.”

  “Do we have popcorn?”

  “Naturally.”

  “Okay!” Eddie rubs his hands together with glee. “Let’s get this show on the road, and while we’re at it, do you mind if I build a fire?”

  Sarah hesitates. Red wine. A blazing fire. Popcorn. It’s beginning to feel strangely like a date.

  Eddie forces a laugh. “Relax, Sarah. I’m not trying to seduce you. It’s cold in here; that’s all.”

  “Oh, sure.” Sarah shrugs. “I didn’t think you were . . . oh, never mind. Absolutely. Let’s build a fire.”

  When the tree has been decorated the two of them sit down on the sofa and smile at one another. Tonight has been fun. They haven’t talked about any of the serious stuff. They haven’t talked about themselves. They’ve talked about the kids, Sarah filling Eddie in on all the funny things that have happened since he’s been away, and they’ve talked about their jobs, their lives independent of one another.

  * * *

  “You’ve really changed.” Eddie is the first one to say it, as he sits on the sofa opposite her.

  “I have?” Sarah attempts a mysterious smile from over the rim of her wineglass. “How?”

  “You seem . . . happy.” Eddie realizes, with a pang, that it’s true. Sarah does seem happy, and it never occurred to him that she could be this happy with him gone. Nor does it occur to him that she may be this happy because he’s back.

  But it occurs to Sarah. For the first time in years it occurs to Sarah.

  “I am happy.” Sarah nods. “This job has been incredibly fulfilling. I feel as if I’ve found myself again. Do you know what I mean?”

  Eddie looks quietly at her. “I do. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m happy, but I’ve found respect for myself again. I’ve got more energy than I’ve had in years and I feel like a young man again. Before . . . I felt middle-aged. I felt like my life was over, and now I feel that it’s beginning again.”

  Oh, God. Sarah feels a jolt. Maybe he’s met someone new. Maybe he has a girlfriend. The thought had never occurred to her before now, but then again the Eddie she remembered wouldn’t have had the energy to go out and find himself a girlfriend, much less have the ability to attract one.

  But this Eddie? This is the Eddie that chatted her up at that Halloween party all those years ago. This Eddie would have no problem attracting women. And, hell, even Sarah knows how big the singles scene is in Chicago. She’s just never thought that anyone would be interested in Eddie.

  “Have you . . . ?” She has to ask. She swallows hard. “Have you met anyone?”

  Eddie widens his eyes in disbelief. Is she kidding? He spends every night missing Sarah, figuring out how to get her back. But maybe she’s asking because she has? It’s the one scenario he hadn’t pictured, hadn’t prepared to deal with.

  He shakes his head and Sarah feels relief flood over her. “You?” he says, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  Sarah thinks about her brief flirtation with Joe the contractor and smiles. “No.”

  And now it’s Eddie’s turn to feel relieved. There’s a long silence as both of their eyes meet until Sarah smiles and looks away, her heart pounding. This is the last thing she expected to happen. This is a date. It feels just like a date. She feels excited, and nervous, and scared. She’s sitting opposite her husband of eight years, ever so slightly drunk, and she’s wondering whether he might be thinking of kissing her.

  And as she imagines him bending down to kiss her she feels a shiver of excitement and she flushes.

  “Are you okay?” Eddie asks.

  “Fine,” she whispers, attempting a seductive smile, which comes out rather crookedly, thanks to the alcohol.

  Eddie stands up. Here it comes, she thinks. Here he comes. Back home where he belongs. And her heart stops.

  Eddie stretches, then checks his watch. “I’d better go,” he says. “I’ve got to be at the inn.”

  Sarah takes a deep breath. “Do you want to stay the night?”

  There’s a long silence. Too long. Eddie’s trying to figure out what she means, trying to figure out whether his heart should be leaping with joy or whether he’s misinterpreting what she’s asking, and Sarah feels sick.

  “I didn’t mean that,” she says suddenly, blushing, even though that’s exactly what she meant. “I meant in the spare room. Just so you could be with the kids in the morning. It just seems silly for you to go to the inn now. It’s so late . . . this makes more sense.”

  “Oh, sure,” Eddie says, disappointed. “Okay. Great. I’ll just go and get my stuff. Oh, and Sarah?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you for such a special evening. For letting me be with the kids. For being so great about everything.”

  “Oh. You’re welcome.” Sarah forces a smile. Damn. This isn’t the way she wanted it to go. “I’ll go and make up the bed in the spare room. Sleep well.”

  “Sarah?” Eddie’s voice is soft as Sarah turns expectantly from the doorway. “Merry Christmas,” he whispers, and she smiles at him uncertainly and wobbles upstairs on unsteady feet to make up the bed in the guest room.

  * * *

  Walker and Maggie sleep in, given that it’s Christmas Day. At 5:45 A.M. they get up and scramble downstairs to the Christmas tree. Maggie knows instantly that the huge box contains her Barbie jeep, and Walker is delighted that Santa heard him and gave him the robot and the light saber. They are both even more delighted that Santa c
learly enjoyed his cookies and milk.

  * * *

  “Mommy! Look! Santa got me web shooters!” Walker bursts into Sarah’s room, already in full Spiderman costume, Maggie following closely at his heels as Walker climbs on the bed.

  Eddie rolls over with a smile. “Shhh!” he says, getting out of bed and leading the children into the hallway as he gestures to Sarah, sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed. “Mommy and Daddy had a very late night. Let’s go and make breakfast for Mommy, okay?”

  “Okay, Daddy.” Walker and Maggie each take a hand as Eddie leads them out of the master bedroom and downstairs, and lying in bed Sarah smiles. She may not have known what she wanted for Christmas, but Santa certainly did.

  Please turn the page for an exciting sneak peek of

  Jane Green’s

  THE OTHER WOMAN

  now available in trade paperback from Plume!

  Pulling a sickie is not something I’m prone to do. And, while I’d like to say I feel sick, I don’t. Not unless prewedding nerves, last-minute jitters, and horrific amounts of stress count.

  But nevertheless this morning I decided I deserved a day off—hell, possibly even two—so I phoned in first thing, knowing that as bad a liar as I am, it would be far easier to lie to Penny, the receptionist, than to my boss.

  “Oh, poor you.” Penny’s voice was full of sympathy. “But it’s not surprising, given the wedding. Must be all the stress. You should just go to bed in a darkened room.”

  “I will,” I said huskily, swiftly catching myself in the lie—migraine symptoms not including sore throats or fake sneezes—and getting off the phone as quickly as possible.

  I did think vaguely about doing something delicious for myself today, something I’d never normally do. Manicures, pedicures, facials, things like that. But of course guilt has managed to prevail, and even though I live nowhere near my office in trendy Soho, I still know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that should I venture outside on the one day I’m pretending to be sick, someone from work will just happen to be at the end of my street.

  So here I am. Watching dreadful daytime television on a cold January morning (although I did just manage to catch an item on “updos for weddings,” which may turn out to be incredibly useful), eating my way through a packet of custard creams (my last chance before the wedding diet goes into full acceleration), and wondering whether there would be any chance of finding a masseuse—a proper one—to come to the house at the last minute to soothe the knots of tension away.