Christmas Ever After

by Niomie Roland

She couldn’t exactly oversee the servants — not only did she not know what she was doing, but it was clearly Celia’s domain.

  She couldn’t even dream of doing a chore in her own room; she had tried to take Miranda’s clothes to the huge laundry room to do it herself, but a servant quickly collected them with a disapproving air. It wasn’t until later when she realized she was taking work out of a person’s hand.

  Though she had entertained the idea of going back to the nursing home for a while, she knew she couldn’t. Even though her wedding was private, and the press had no idea who she was, the privacy didn’t last as long as she thought.

  One call was all it took to crash that dream.

  Janaye had called her and asked her point-blank if the rumors were true. Without waiting for an answer, she asked for a little cash. In her words, “Just a little something for all those times I helped you out.”

  Trinity had switched off the phone before she lost her temper. Their relationship had been warm once upon a time, but after she moved in with Janaye, Janaye changed. Janaye had given her a place to stay, but Trinity had already paid for it in even more than cash — not to mention the near death experience.

  Trying to get the conversation off her mind, she logged in online to search for education programs — anything to keep her busy and give her something to fall on after these twelve months were over. Only winter courses were available this late in the year.

  Still, she found a few and decided to apply for the winter semester. For a moment, she wondered if she could do so, and decided she would.

  A few hours later, she was racing to bring her daughter home. The anger from the conversation with Janaye was still lingering, but she tried her best to push it all aside. The chauffeur back at home had looked at her with reproach when she told him she would be driving herself, but she was done feeling useless.

  She drove to a stop and got out of the car, handing the keys to a hovering valet. She left him with the instructions to wait — I won’t be long. She hastily made her way into the school building.

  The first time she had been here — apart from being awed by the building, it's grounds and the sophisticated air of the place — she had wondered why a school needed valet parking.

  Now she knew. Trinity smiled to herself, wondering if perhaps she was adjusting better than she imagined. Twenty minutes later, she exited the huge doors with a morose Miranda in tow.

  She debated for a second before strapping her daughter into the back seat of the new car Michael had gifted Miranda. He’d said he wanted his daughter riding around in a car that was safe and less likely to break down in the middle of a snowstorm. She made her way to her side of the car thinking how slick her husband was to say it was a gift to Miranda and not her, he knew her pride would never have allowed her to accept such a gift.

  Trinity sighed as she looked at her sulking daughter. "What's wrong, love?"

  "They were mean again today.” A pout was on her lips, and Trinity felt her heart break just a little.

  She had expected an adjustment period due to the change in environment, but she had not expected bullying. She decided she would go to the administrator’s office tomorrow after dropping Miranda off. She wouldn’t stand by and watch anyone take advantage or be mean to her daughter.

  “I’ll talk to you principal tomorrow. Let's go home." Home.

  "Is Daddy at home?" Miranda asked, her eyes shining with hope.

  Trinity's heart squeezed the way it did whenever she heard Miranda refer to Michael as “daddy.” She had given up on correcting her. Michael didn’t help the situation either, and he cheered on the little girl every time she said it. Still, the words drove a reaction out of her every time, and she wondered what could have been if… I hope we can both get out of this with our hearts intact.

  No time for these thoughts, she decided. She started the car, and the engine roared to life. Pulling out of the parking lot, she turned the way back home.

  MICHAEL 

  M ichael never had a reason to race home, and the commute between his house and the airport gave him a chance to take a good breather from the business conferences and meetings.

  Still, he found himself driving with anxious nerves, for some reason, a little more than eager to get back home.

  Twelve months, he reminded himself again, and barely lifted his foot off the accelerator. They would be gone in twelve months; this was just a business deal.

  He remembered the tinge of relief in her eyes when he left her room that night. He really should slow down, there wasn’t any need to rush…

  His foot remained on the accelerator.

  When his driveway came into sight, he tore in, and leaped out of the car. He didn’t even bother to take the key out of the ignition, bounding up the steps with curious energy. Guided by some inner radar, he headed for the kitchen.

  “Daddy!"

  He barely braced himself before the body launched at him. He stooped to catch the girl, and lifted her into a hug, receiving one in return. He was shaken and humbled by the sudden emotion he felt — he had not expected her enthusiastic hug, the easy love that shone in her eyes, and the displays of affection.

  "Michael,” Trinity called out in welcome.

  She offered a shy smile, and before he could think on it, he pulled her into an embrace. At the sound of Miranda’s squeal between them, something settled in him. He didn’t understand it.

  As they ate dinner, Miranda went a mile a minute with her questions about his trip and why he was away for so long.

  Dinner had never been so alive and satisfying, until he asked her about school. The sound of cutlery rattling against fine bone chime prevailed for one long second. Only a fool wouldn’t notice something was amiss. His two girls — yes, his two girls! — looked at each other from across the table.

  A pit formed in his stomach. “What happened?” An unfamiliar wave of protectiveness washed through him.

  "They were mean, Daddy," Miranda replied finally. Her teary pout drove him just a little into rage before he fixed his eyes on Trinity

  "There have been a few cases of bullying...I am going to see the principal about it tomorrow," she explained.

  "I'm coming with you." His tone had no room for arguing, but she tried again.

  "You have work, and one person is enough to—”

  "Don't fight this, I'm coming with you,” he interrupted her. No one made his daughter cry—not yours, the insidious voice in his head came again. Twelve months, remember?

  Trinity nodded and he turned back to the adoration in Miranda's eyes. Her innocence and gratitude made him feel ten feet tall, like a hero.

  Now, only if her mother would—

  Just business, he reminded himself, just twelve months.

  But his attempt at cautioning himself came far too late.

  TRINITY

  "M a'am, I don't understand how we should monitor all her interactions; it would only prove difficult and succeed in making her feel isolated," said a snooty voice.

  It set Trinity’s teeth on edge. "She is feeling isolated without the benefit of that now," she pointed out.

  The older man seated across her smiled frostily, a move she expected was intimidating some, but not to her. "I hardly think childish squabbles are worth—”

  She didn't allow him to finish his condescending statement before she countered hotly, "It is not childish squabble when they tell my daughter she is the granddaughter of a murderer!"

  "That is another matter entirely," the older man finally subsided, a little shocked himself.

  She made progress, but still refused to be pacified. “There is no way—” She almost blurted out her thoughts, but suddenly realized that Michael was tense beside her.

  What had happened? He had been willing to allow her to battle it out while lending his support silently so far. Had she gone too far?

  "We will do something about this, madam. I don't see how such vicious rumors could have originated from the children
themselves." The principal conceded. He gave a sigh, indicating this was not the first time he had suffered an issue like this. "I assure you that I will have a stern talking to the parents and their kids. We do not tolerate such behavior within our educational setting."

  Compared to his previous icy manner, he was humbled and apologetic now.

  "See that you do," Michael growled, his one and only contribution to the conversation before he stood up and exited the office.

  Trinity followed, wondering what had happened.

  The silence between them remained as they got into the car and followed still as Michael drove out of the school grounds. She couldn’t help but look at him.

  She must have done something, said something that upset him. Did that insult mean something to him, or had she fallen foul of a particular social etiquette by shouting at the principal?

  She knew so little about this silent man, and now more than ever he seemed much more closed off. It put a whole a whole new spin on the marry in haste, repent in leisure phrase. She couldn't help wondering what made him suddenly rigid in the office, and his reason for storming out. His actions were nothing dramatic, but his abrupt leave was just that.

  "I'm sorry she had to go through that," he said, his words surprising her.

  He started to look over at her, but it was only a brief glance before he returned his attention back to the road. He turned the corner out of the school gates and into the main road.

  "I'm sure you didn't expect the school to be negative for her."

  "You don't understand," he continued.

  That’s right, I don’t. The atmosphere chilled, and she could tell there was something weighing in his mind.

  “No. It’s my fault in more ways than one.” He kept his eyes on the road, not looking at her. “You see, my mother killed my father when I was a young boy. Until now, I believed that was something that had faded out of the memories of many people, but apparently just because it faded out of mine, doesn’t mean it has left others."

  He delivered it precisely, and so very politely. She hoped she was never a victim of his politeness — he handed it off like bombs.

  She caught the distress lurking deep in his eyes, for the first time feeling like she knew him, Trinity felt like he had lied to her. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name.

  He may have hoped people had all forgotten about it like he had, but where he was wrong was that he hadn’t forgotten it himself. No, not when it was etched like an invisible mark just under the skin, an ache that throbbed at the oddest moments.

  And she knew this because she could understand what it was like trying to outrun her past, and trying to forget. She didn’t offer any judgment, because she was just as bad as he was about holding onto the past.

  Without thinking, she allowed her hand to cross the console and rest gently on his thigh. He tensed at her touch, but she didn’t move from him.

  "You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “You did nothing wrong."

  MICHAEL

  H e couldn’t get over the thoughts — his mind refused to go beyond the point, playing in an endless loop through his mind. Thoughts of her haunted him, his mind going back to her every single minute.

  He had expected her to shy away from the subject, or at worse — accuse him of something.

  He still couldn't get over the fact that she had touched him, willingly and oh so sweet. The soft hand was like an ember thrown on his lap, and he had suffered gladly until she had taken her hand away.

  How could she so easily push him to the edge, and wake his desire in the most innocent way?

  She only needed to look at him with those clear brown eyes and he felt that stirring...that fire gathering in his loins.

  I want her. He unclenched his fists, uncurling one finger at a time, thinking. Getting out of his chair, he stalked to the window, the view lost to his eyes.

  It was a mutually benefiting deal. Why was everything unraveling now, moving out of their places, spilling out of their places, position — why?

  He could see the questions in her eyes, the things she wanted to understand. He could tell she wanted to say something, but she bit her tongue and smiled at him, a quick tentative curl of lips that reminded him so much of Miranda.

  Like mother like daughter — only the mother was more elusive, more guarded. A fighter.

  What am I going to do about the rumors?

  What was he going to do to give her back her smile? He wanted to bring back the carefree smiling child with her innocent, trusting eyes. It was not right that his issues, his life, would taint her innocent joy.

  The office door behind him opened, but he didn’t care enough to turn around and see who it was.

  “First you come to work at a normal time, next I find you taking things easy... I like her already."

  Michael’s whole body stilled, and he finally turned around. "Grandfather."

  "Son, the view is amazing here."

  "Never really had a chance to see it before." He turned back to the window.

  "I'm sure," the old man said, as if he was fishing.

  "What are you doing in my office, old man?"

  "Going for the jugular?" The older man chuckled.

  "You taught me well."

  "Indeed."

  "When are you signing over the company to me?"

  Was he really evading? Yes, blatantly.

  "I should think you're still at the honeymoon phase, too loved up to think about the company."

  Still fishing.

  "Loved up?" Brows arched, he looked across to his grandfather.

  "I wasn't always old."

  "I'm sure," he echoed, subtly mocking. "And the company?"

  "In due time."

  Cryptic.

  The two of them stood in front of a view they could barely see, clouded by their thoughts, time passing in silence.

  TRINITY

  T rinity was stir crazy, restless, and bordering on insane. When she was an overworked, over-thinking single mother, she dreamed of the free time she had now.

  As it turned out, free time and in a decadent location wasn't exactly what it was cracked up to be. She had nothing to do — she simply had to mention her needs to have them satisfied. Somehow, it was stifling.

  She found herself trying to take a breath, a real honest-to-God breath. She walked around as if everything around her was normal, but a small part of her mind was hyperventilating. Panicking.

  She drew the words around herself like a trusty blanket. Still, that was a long time coming, and she was losing her mind right now.

  Trinity rolled over in the lake they called a bed, not a smidgen of guilt filling her for rumpling the sheets. She couldn’t stop thinking about the meeting with the principal and the flippant confession that followed it.

  Every time she asked herself why — why did she need to know? It was obviously a sore subject, no matter how easily he tried to pass it off. Obviously, the subject was closed, and no matter how much she needed to understand she couldn't even think about bringing it up.

  Still, it seemed too big, too monumental to hide from someone you were in a relationship with — no matter how unconventional.

  Six months, she reminded herself, but her feelings still drove a sigh from her lips.

  She could read about it, maybe. The news was sure to cover something, especially with his high-profile family involved.

  But it was a betrayal of sorts — he had trusted her with that much, and she couldn't go behind him to dig it all up. And for what?

  It would change nothing...

  No, it would change that stark look in his eyes, that look he masked with silence.

  She didn't understand her new life. The only constant was her daughter, and if she was being honest with herself, sometimes she missed the past.

  It brought a wave of guilt with it, but she wished for the familiarity of those streets. She had everything good here, but she missed the children playing soccer, the occa
sional loud wail of a cop siren, and the bums that sunned themselves on the only bench by the curb and the—

  The bum... the bums — Winter was coming!

  The thought shot her up from the bed and straight into the kitchen.

  "Where is the fire, girl?"

  The entire kitchen staff turned to her before Celia snapped at them. Only Bethany was too elated to be embarrassed.

  "I found what to do!" she exclaimed, winded from her short sprint.

  "I’ve seen your moping, going to put yourself to good use then?" Celia asked, eyebrows arched.

  "Clothes — winter is coming and the people in my neighborhood will surely need them. People freeze to death every year in the winter cold."

  "Good on you." The words were said in a so-so tone, but she didn't miss the going of approval and the nod that followed.

  "Thanks. Do you think he'll like it? Will he think it's okay?" When she thought of her husband, she suddenly started rethinking her whole plan. Would he like it?

  "I don't think he can deny you that."

  Graced with another of Celia’s odd seals of approval, Trinity went back to her room in high spirits. But before she left the kitchen she turned right around and issued her first order.

  “You're coming with me, Celia."

  She didn't expect the smile that crinkled the older woman's face but the answer was pure Celia.

  "But of course, girl."

  At first, Trinity had believed it was something she could tackle in a day, but the moment she started on her list, she wondered if maybe she had bitten off more than she can chew. She took several trips, grabbing anything and everything she could lay her hands on, but the pile still wasn’t high enough to suffice all she wanted to do. She couldn’t decide who needed clothes most, so she bought enough for every age group in mind.

  One trip home couldn’t fit all the clothes she had bought. The living room was already packed, and the chauffeur was still going back for more.

  MICHAEL

  T he pile in the living room dazzled him. It had his feet frozen to the ground, his breath suddenly winded.