Christmas at the Graff

by Kaylie Newell

  “Really?” He nodded slowly. “Well, that’s a shame. You’re in the Christmas capital of Montana. You know that, right?”

  Her lips tilted. “You’re just saying that.”

  “It’s true. Everyone within a five-hundred-mile radius knows it. We’re like the North Pole and shit.”

  “I think I saw that on a postcard at the Graff. Welcome to Marietta. Like the North Pole and shit.”

  “Poetic, right?”

  “Oh, so poetic.”

  “So, why no Christmas?”

  She immediately stiffened, and he was sorry he’d asked. But she looked up, straight into his eyes, which surprised him. There was some of Joe’s resolve there.

  “My dad left right before Christmas when I was fifteen. I haven’t celebrated since.”

  EJ exhaled slowly. He hadn’t expected something so profound. He thought she’d say something like it was too commercialized or some such crap. But this was deeper. Something that would leave a scar, for sure. And there he was, trying to guilt her into decorating a tree. What an asshole.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “It is what it is. My mom refused to acknowledge the holidays after that, and I guess my sister and I can’t now. You know. Out of loyalty to her.”

  “Loyalty...to her?” He left out the obvious. She was dead.

  Still, he got it. His past wasn’t as sordid, but he understood the feelings well enough. Christmas had always been hard for him, too. Another holiday to work his way through.

  Jemma looked out the window again, her expression turning wistful as the snow fell against the velvety backdrop of the night.

  “I know it’d be easier if I’d just let it all go. I mean, she’s gone, right?”

  He watched her steadily.

  “But then, there’s Justine,” she continued. “She’s still so mad. And I’m mad, too. Years of birthday cards can’t erase what he did. It was unforgivable.”

  She looked back at him, her eyes bright. “I guess I probably shouldn’t be unloading all my family drama onto a complete stranger.”

  He smiled. No, on the contrary. He was finding her more attractive by the minute.

  “I think unloading just makes you someone with a functioning conscience.”

  “I picked the right physical therapist, then. Or family therapist.”

  “Well, I’m pretty screwed up myself, so...”

  “Now I’m curious.”

  “Another night,” he said. “We’d be here until Tuesday. You don’t think you’ll ever forgive your dad?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. I haven’t seen him in so long. I came here expecting to hate him.” She shrugged. “But I can’t bring myself to.”

  “You think your sister will ever come around?” The idea of siblings had always intrigued him. The closest thing he had to a brother was Chad, and that was a stretch.

  “No way. She’s extra resentful. She shouldered more of my mom’s resentment than I did.”

  “Maybe you shouldered more than you think.”

  They stood there for a few long seconds as the Christmas music changed to something instrumental he couldn’t put his finger on.

  Then Jemma looked up with an expression of newfound resolve. “If you’d let me, I’d love to take Dad’s place and help you decorate that tree.”

  He had to work to keep from grinning like a moron. “Sure. If you have the time.”

  “I think I’ll have plenty of time.”

  He stuck his hand out. Smiling impishly, she shook it. Her skin was warm and soft. He could only assume the rest of her body, the hidden parts, would be even softer. His heart beat heavily inside his chest, something it hadn’t done for a very long time.

  “Partners, then?” he asked.

  “Partners.”

  Chapter Five

  Jemma stood in the little bathroom, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She’d come over to Joe’s planning on cleaning a little, but the place was actually spotless. She looked around, expecting to have to take out the garbage at least, but even that was empty.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a housekeeper?” she called to her dad, who was reading in the next room.

  “I do,” he called back. “It’s me!”

  She looked at the gleaming baby-blue 1950’s sink. Growing up, her mom had said Joe was helpless and had to have a woman around to take care of him. It had been one of her favorite things to hammer home when he’d left. Your father can’t be by himself. It’s pathetic.

  But the house she’d walked into today was very different than the one she’d grown to expect. Not only did it look like he could take care of himself, but he was also doing it quite well. True, there had been another woman at first, but there hadn’t been for quite some time. Either he’d learned to be proficient, or he’d been proficient all along, and her mom hadn’t given him any credit.

  Jemma frowned and ran her tennis shoe along a floorboard. This was a new revelation. A confusing one. She’d spent so long swallowing what her mom had fed her that she hadn’t stopped to question any of it. She’d only considered the facts as she knew them. Her dad had left. Fact. And he’d broken her heart. Fact.

  She’d loved her mother dearly. But she’d also known how angry her mother had been. She’d never gotten over her husband leaving her. The rejection had damaged her mom fundamentally, and that part was becoming clearer after her death. Like a fogged-up mirror that could now be seen clearly in after it was blasted with a hot blow dryer.

  It was unsettling for Jemma because even though the house being clean seemed like something small, it felt big. What else had she been missing? Her entire adult life had been built on the fact that people would eventually leave. No matter how much they were loved or depended on. It was just how it was. She was well aware that she’d let herself mold more than one relationship out of that simple truth.

  “How’s it going in there?” Joe called. “It’s about time for lunch. I have a surprise for you.”

  “Dad, you can’t be making anything.” She turned and leaned against the bathroom doorjamb. “You’re doing too much as it is.”

  “Oh, I’m not. We’re getting takeout.”

  “Yeah?”

  “From the Main Street Diner. Best grilled cheese sandwiches you’ve ever had. You still like grilled cheeses, right, baby?”

  He hadn’t called her baby since she’d been a girl. Thank God he was in the other room and couldn’t see her face before she’d had time to compose herself.

  “I do. They’re my favorite.” He’d remembered. And again, a seed of doubt settled in her mind before she could pluck it out.

  She squared her shoulders. Just because he hadn’t forgotten her favorite childhood meal didn’t make up for walking out on his family.

  “And candy-cane cake for dessert,” he continued. “It’s seasonal. People come from miles around for the cake in December.”

  She’d never heard of any such thing, but her stomach growled appropriately. Her heart was supposed to be as frozen as the Montana landscape outside the frosted windows, but she still had to eat. Even if Justine would’ve rolled her eyes at how easily Jemma could be swayed by flour and sugar.

  “That sounds nice,” she said, looking around the bathroom again. “Well, I guess I’m all done in here. It’s pretty clean already. I think you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “It was clean before the accident. I just tidied up.”

  Turning, she flipped the light switch off and walked into the living room where her dad sat over a crossword. His readers were slipping down his nose, and he frowned in concentration.

  “What’s a six-letter word for evergreen tree?”

  She studied the ceiling. “Not pine...spruce!”

  He counted the letters out and broke into a grin. “Thanks, hon.”

  Sitting down, she arranged the magazines on the coffee table into a neat little pile. She felt useless. In her head, she’d imagined all the ways she’d help her dad rec
over. In reality, there wasn’t a ton to do except help him move around when needed, and keep him company. Which was fine until there was a quiet minute or two, and then she’d get worried he’d want to talk about things. She really didn’t know if she was ready for that.

  He looked up and took his glasses off. He was so different than she’d remembered. Still handsome, but in an older, more dignified way. His hair, once a rich brown, was now almost completely silver. Deep, soft wrinkles lined his skin, and his eyebrows were bushy and thick. He’d always been a nice dresser, and that was the one thing that hadn’t changed. He wore a soft Pendleton sweater in a smoky gray and khaki slacks. She’d always been so proud of him. He’d been such a good dad. What had happened along the way?

  “I hear you’re taking my place on the Christmas tree decorating committee,” he said.

  “Guilty as charged.”

  Joe sat back. “EJ really loves it. More than he’ll let on.”

  “I get that feeling. We’re going to meet tonight so we can plan.” She smiled, remembering how serious he got when mentioning the theme. It had to be better than last year, so Mountain Physical Therapy could beat their archrival, The Java Café. Apparently, EJ and Joe had come in behind them the last three years, but EJ was confident this was their Christmas. “He does this every year?”

  “Every single one. Without fail.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “He said he doesn’t go home for the holidays. What’s his story?”

  Joe frowned and shook his head. “His mom gave him up as a toddler. He was bounced around foster homes. Never adopted.”

  Jemma’s heart twisted. EJ never went home, because he didn’t have a home to go back to. The fact he’d grown so close to her dad finally made a little more sense. No wonder. Joe wasn’t just a friend. He was family.

  Part of her still didn’t know what to do with that. After all, her dad hadn’t been around for his own flesh-and-blood daughters for years.

  She looked around the living room, suddenly wanting to change the subject. “Where’s your tree, Dad?”

  “I usually put it up after Thanksgiving. But I haven’t gotten around to it since the accident.”

  Looking down, she picked at a cuticle. “Do you want one? A tree?”

  “Oh, honey. You don’t have to worry about that. I’m fine.”

  She looked back up, feeling the decade yawn between them like the Grand Canyon. “Do you still celebrate Christmas like we used to? When Justine and I were little?”

  Growing up, the holidays had been an outright spectacle that she and her sister delighted in. All the other kids wanted to come to their house because there’d always been warm sugar cookies on the counter and Christmas movies on TV. Her mom had decorated the minute after Thanksgiving, while her dad trekked out to get the tree.

  “No,” he said softly. “I don’t. But I still love it.”

  She nodded, looking away. She didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes. But he’d left. It had been his choice.

  “I hope someday you can forgive me, Jemma.” Joe’s voice wasn’t the deep, raspy timbre she’d come to expect. It was laced with regret. Sadness. Years and years of distance, missed birthdays, and holidays they’d never get back. Her heart ached for him, ached for EJ. Ached for herself and her sister, and for every broken family that needed put back together again.

  “I tried,” he continued. “After...”

  She did look up, then. “What do you mean?”

  “I tried contacting you both, but it was hard with your mother. She was so angry, and she had a right to be. But there are things you and Justine don’t know. Reasons why I did what I did. I came back to see you, but your mom wouldn’t have it. I’d already caused so much pain. I just thought it’d be easier on you all if I wrote letters instead. Let you contact me when you were ready.”

  She stared across the living room, but didn’t really see anything. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she wanted to ask. She opened her mouth, but then closed it again. Maybe she’d never be ready.

  He reached out and put his hand on hers. His skin was rough and warm. She remembered him feeling for a temperature when she’d been sick, kissing her cheek before school, trying to fix her hair and doing such a miserable job that it had become a running family joke. And then, the anger came rushing back. She wanted to know why he’d left, but part of her didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking. Inside, she was a hurt, insolent teenager, crossing her arms over her chest and flouncing off. You left? Fine. I’m leaving, too.

  She slowly removed her hand from underneath his.

  He cleared his throat and reached over to grab the phone from the end table. “Better order those sandwiches before the lunch rush,” he said.

  She thought he might be holding back tears. She was definitely holding back her own.

  Chapter Six

  EJ sat in the elegant, dimly lit bar of the Graff. He took a long pull on his beer, a dark local ale that made him proud to be a Montanan.

  Stretching his long legs underneath the booth, he looked around. He’d always loved the Graff. It was a pillar of their small community, a piece of history dating back to the days of copper mines and cowboy-laden horses trotting through wide, dusty streets.

  But he had a personal connection with it, too. He’d stayed here when he’d interviewed for his job right out of college. He’d felt at home immediately. Not just in the hotel, which was easy because of how nice it was, but in Marietta itself. He’d always wanted a place to call his own. And now, he had it. But there had always been a small, nagging part of him that wanted more. He recognized his need for adventure, his wanderlust that had been evident since childhood. That was where the snowboarding and mountain biking came in. But there was something else. Something deeper that he didn’t quite understand, or maybe he just wasn’t comfortable with yet. He wanted someone to share this with, but he knew relationships, the meaningful kind that lasted, were dangerous to think about, to aspire to. His parents had taught him a simple lesson that he’d taken to heart—most people would let him down. Even the ones he loved the most.

  He pushed the thought down like a chalky pill. Thinking about this stuff got him nowhere. But the thing was, since talking to Jemma last night, he’d been turning her situation with Joe over in his mind. If it were him, how would he handle it? What would he do if one of his parents were to show up now and try to make amends? He really didn’t know. But the question intrigued him. If he were being honest, she intrigued him, too.

  As if on cue, she appeared like an apparition, walking through the door before he had a chance to shut that particular thought down. Her thick hair was swept back in a ponytail, and she wore a white coat, something with a high, elegant collar. Again, her clothing couldn’t hide her generous curves. They moved underneath the fabric like warm, lapping waves.

  She hadn’t spotted him yet. She stood in the center of the room, craning her neck, seemingly oblivious to the looks she was getting from the men. Jemma Banks gave off the clear impression of not knowing how hot she was. Which, to EJ, made her infinitely hotter.

  He watched her for a long minute, an undeniable heat rushing to his groin, to his heart. There was a pained vulnerability there, written all over that lovely face. Someone who didn’t want people to know who she was deep down, but she did a crappy job of hiding it, too. She’d been hurt. Like him. And she was also lonely. He’d recognized it the second she’d walked through the door of Joe’s hospital room.

  Rising, he called her name. When she looked over, she smiled, and it shot like an arrow through his chest.

  “I was worried I’d missed you,” she said. “I was with Dad longer than I’d planned.”

  They sat across from each other. She smelled good, like perfume. Her skin looked as soft as powder. He thought about what it would be like to pull her into his lap, to nuzzle that incredibly graceful neck. EJ had always been a sucker for a woman’s neck. So many places to explore, to appreciate.

&nb
sp; “I hope you weren’t waiting long,” she continued.

  “Nope. How’s Joe?”

  She put her hands flat on the table as if she were keeping it from flying away. She was nervous, he could tell. Maybe she thought this Christmas tree meet up was more than that. Maybe she had good reason. Because maybe he’d used it as an excuse to get her alone, despite needing to talk about the damn tree. Okay. He needed to talk about the damn tree, but getting her alone was a pretty sweet bonus.

  “He’s great,” she said. “He’s powering through those exercises you gave him like a champ. I really can’t believe how well he’s doing.”

  “He’s got an amazing physical therapist.”

  She laughed. “Right?”

  The sound was like a bell. Her eyes danced, her lashes long and dark. She looked around the bar, and he could see the appreciation etched on her face. Pine wreaths hung in the darkened windows, and a lit Christmas tree towered in the corner. One of the bartenders, Shane Knight, wiped down the long, wooden bar while laughing with a few locals having a glass of wine.

  “This hotel...” She didn’t finish her sentence, but she didn’t have to.

  “I know.”

  “It’s like something out of a dream.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And my room... It’s enchanting.”

  He smiled. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone use the word enchanting in a sentence before.”

  “It’s the only word that fits.”

  “Hell, if it fits, use it.”

  “I will. This whole place is enchanting.”

  “Atta girl.”

  She shrugged off her jacket as a server came to take her order. “A pinot gris, please. Your house wine would be great.”

  When they were alone again, she folded her hands on the table. “I hear from my dad that you take Mistletoe and Montana very seriously.”

  He folded his hands on the table too, and leaned forward. “You hear right.”

  “What’s our plan of attack? If we’re going to put The Java Café in their place, we need something pretty special.”