by Jo McNally
Except by accident.
Tensing, she buried her face in her hands. “You can’t,” she choked out, sounding even more miserable. “No one can.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said quietly. Then his next idea hit. “Do you want me to talk to this guy...whoever he is?”
“Absolutely not!” she replied, horrified, stiffening all the more.
She had helped him out so much over the past few years, he knew he owed her. “Sure?” he persisted, reluctantly letting go of her and stepping back.
Bess composed herself with her usual grace. “Yes. What I feel... Let’s just say it’s destined to be an unrequited love.”
He gave her another reassuring touch on her forearm. “You’re certain?”
Bess’s chin trembled. “Yes.” She swallowed. “I just need to get over it. Find a way to move on. Which, in all honesty, is the real reason I wrote those letters. So I would get it all out and see how foolish I’m being, even thinking about him, when I know there’s no real interest on the other side, at least not the kind I want and need,” she concluded, matter-of-fact.
Jack understood wishing for the impossible, as well as the comfort that could be gleaned from a close and lasting friendship. The kind he wished they had, because up to now, it had been mostly one of utility, centered around the needs of his kids, rather than their own.
Aware this was the first time she’d let him in, he did the same for her, confessing quietly, “The holidays are hard for me, too.” There were times when he was overcome with grief. And guilt...
Her slender shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly. “I know.”
He frowned, thinking about his late wife. It had been three years since she died, but it felt like forever. “I miss Gayle.” And feel desperately lonely. Ready to move on. “I worry I’m not doing enough for the girls.”
Her breath hitching, Bess lifted her gaze to his. Their shared sorrow shone in her eyes. Acceptance, too. She regarded him fiercely. “You do plenty for Lindsay, Nicole and Chloe, Jack.”
He sure as hell tried. It wasn’t enough.
And never would be.
“Except I can’t bring their mother back,” he said tersely. “So every year for me, I feel like I’m Charlie Brown at Christmastime.”
“Privately depressed,” she guessed. “Even though you know that, given everything you do still have, you should be happy.”
“Right.”
Bess reached over and covered his hand with hers. “I never realized that you were feeling that way.”
With a rueful smile, he looked down at their casually linked fingers. “I put on a good show. I have to. Otherwise, the entire McCabe clan would descend on me in force.”
Understanding lit her eyes. “Same here with the Monroes.”
“And I don’t want to let my daughters down. They deserve to have the best Christmas possible. Despite not having a mom around to enjoy it with us.”
She paused as if to weigh their situations. Then brought him close for a warm, companionable hug. “I’m sorry if my pity party brought you down.”
He gave her a supportive squeeze, too. “You didn’t.” They stepped back. “We’re pals. Pals help each other out. And that being the case...” He looked her in the eye, not bothering to disguise his hope she would rush to his aid once again.
She shook her head, her mood turning wry. “You really have something else to ask me, Doc? After all those really nosy questions?”
The kind they had never asked each other before this. In fact, it was their mutual lack of prying and giving each other plenty of emotional space while still spending time together that had helped them stay friends since his wife had died. They’d kept up the same pattern later when Bess’s engagement had ended.
But now that he was here...why not solve two problems at once? Ease Bess’s melancholy and solve his much thornier problem?
He grinned and asked, “Want to have dinner with me and the girls tonight?”
Copyright © 2019 by Cathy Gillen Thacker
ISBN-13: 9781488042409
It Started at Christmas...
Copyright © 2019 by Jo McNally
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