Low Country Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “She did. He made that very clear.”

  Holly’s heart cracked into pieces. “I don’t think she would have done that,” she whispered.

  “I didn’t think you would lie to me.” He blew out a breath, shook his head. “People are pretty disappointing when you get down to it.”

  His tone was dreary, final, and she missed his warmth and laughter, was only now appreciating how upbeat he normally was. Loss wrapped around her like a heavy, leaden shroud, and yet she knew it was nothing compared to how she’d feel later, once this had all had the chance to sink in.

  Penny’s fussing had mostly subsided but she still moved restlessly, letting out the occasional whimper. Holly’s heart broke for her. She’d lost so much already through no fault of her own; she couldn’t lose her daddy, too. She stood, cuddling Penny close, and approached him. “Could you hold her while I—”

  “No,” he said, and turned away.

  “Cash! You can’t take out your feelings on an innocent—”

  “What do you know about innocence?” He spun back to face her. “You’re the craftiest, sneakiest little liar I ever...” He trailed off. “There’s no point in talking about this.” He pulled out his phone. “Let’s figure out a custody schedule. I’m going back to Atlanta, but I’ll take her one weekend a month like I originally planned.”

  “That’s not enough!” For a baby, it was practically nothing. “What about the parenting class?”

  “I’m not going through those motions anymore. Who are we trying to kid, that we can do a good job with Penny?”

  “You’re giving up on her?”

  He gave Holly a level glare that chilled her. “I haven’t decided how I’m going to go. I might just try to get full custody of her. But for now, I’ll plan on...” He frowned at his phone, presumably at his calendar. “The first weekend of every month. Any objections?”

  So many objections. “She’ll be upset,” she said. “She’s used to seeing you almost every day.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s wrong, you’re afraid if I leave town you’ll lose my financial support?”

  “No! That’s not it at all.”

  “Right.” He clicked off his phone and dug in his pocket. “Here. This should keep you going until my lawyer gets in touch.” He pulled out a huge wad of money and, without even looking at it, threw it down on the table. “See you next month. Or better yet, we can get Rita to help us do the transfer. That way, I won’t have to look at your lying face.”

  Then he turned around and walked out into the storm.

  Carefully, Holly set Penny down. And then she doubled over, because the pain inside was so sharp.

  Eventually Penny’s renewed crying got to her, and she picked her back up and comforted her, settled her in for the night. Then she went back out to the front room and sat listening to the storm.

  Leave. Get out. Run away.

  It was what she’d always done. Human connections didn’t pay off.

  But Safe Haven seemed different.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked while her heart slowly broke. Cash hated her. He actually hated her.

  It had been a mistake to get involved, to think there was a chance she could belong.

  * * *

  FRIDAY MORNING, Rita got out of her car in front of Norma’s condo complex, waved to her friend and surveyed the storm damage with her hands on her hips.

  “You made it! Girl, I’m grateful.” Norma tossed an armload of brown palm fronds into a dumpster and then turned toward Rita. “Don’t hug me, I’m a mess.”

  “Brought my work gloves. What do you need me to do?”

  “We’re just picking up debris from this parking lot so people can get in and park. I took the easy job.” She gestured down toward the beach. “Most of the men are hauling the bigger stuff away.”

  “Not Stephen, I see.” He was at the other end of the lot, alone, hauling branches to a temporary dumpster that had been placed down there.

  “I don’t want to talk about him.” Norma’s lips tightened. “Where’s Taffy? Thought you were going to bring her.”

  “Jimmy’s still taking care of her.” Rita smiled. “He was pretty reluctant when I called from the hospital, but when I asked if he could keep her another day, he sounded a little more positive. I think she’s working her magic on him.”

  “Then she’s a better dog than Snowball,” Norma muttered. She was pulling a heavy branch toward the dumpster, and Rita moved to help her, sloshing through the water, glad she’d dug up her duck boots.

  “Heave it on count of three,” Norma said, breathing hard. “One, two, three.” They lifted the branch together and threw it in. “Whew, I’m getting hot. Let’s collect little stuff for a while.” She pulled large garbage bags from a box beside the dumpster and handed one to Rita. “How’s Pudge doing, anyway? Last I heard, he was still in intensive care.”

  Rita had called the hospital as soon as she’d gotten up. “He’s hanging in there. It takes a while to recover from surgery like that, especially for such a big man.”

  “Did his kids come?”

  “Nope.” Rita scooped up wet palm fronds and tossed them into the bag, hard. “They said to call if he passed. Which seemed to me to be more about making sure they inherited his money than about caring for their dad.”

  Norma puffed out a breath. “Couple of times I’ve met Pudge, he seemed like a good guy. Wonder why they’re carrying so much resentment?”

  “You’re the therapist.”

  “Yeah,” Norma said, “and professionally, I get that what happened to you as kids, any neglect or perceived shortcoming, looms pretty large. But it’s also the case that losing a parent who’s estranged can cast a long shadow in a person’s life.”

  Rita was stuck on some of Norma’s words: any neglect or perceived shortcoming looms pretty large. Involuntarily, she glanced up at the building’s top floor, where Cash had his apartment, now converted into a business center.

  Cash was trying to get over his resentment toward her; she could see that and she appreciated it. But underneath, he still blamed her for abandoning him and his brothers.

  Talking with Pudge’s snotty kids had made her realize how irrational such resentments could be. But that didn’t make her feel a whole lot better. She didn’t remember Cash as a kid, not except for a few glimmers, but she felt a mother’s love for him, somehow. The fact that he treated her in a cool, distant way made her heart hurt.

  She turned to refocus on her work, helping Norma to right an overturned planter. “What’s made you hostile toward Stephen again? I thought you two were going to go out.”

  Norma’s lips tightened. “We did.”

  “And?”

  Norma sorted through the plants, tossing broken ones, replanting those that might make it. “I asked him to dance.”

  “That’s great!”

  “He said no.”

  “Oh.” Rita frowned. “Maybe he just doesn’t like to?”

  “Or maybe he meant the evening to be just friends. Maybe he’s not attracted to me. He really clammed up after that and we left pretty soon after. He barely spoke to me all the way home.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I told you men aren’t worth getting your hopes up for.”

  “You also told me not to give up on Jimmy, that grown-ups have to work through things,” Rita said. “Why don’t you ask him what happened, what his attitude was all about?”

  “Nope. I’m done with him.”

  “Norma! You give everyone else a million chances, especially as a therapist. Why can’t you cut him a little slack?”

  “Because he hurt my feelings.” Norma smiled as if she was making a joke, but it was a forced effort.

  “Maybe he wants to apologize,” Rita said. “He’s coming over this way.”

  Norma glanced back and stiffened.
“I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Be a grown-up,” Rita said, and grabbed her friend’s arm to make sure she didn’t bolt. “Hey, Stephen. How’s it going?”

  “All right.” He smiled stiffly at her, then looked at Norma. “Wondered if you have a minute to talk.”

  “Not really.” Norma crossed her arms and looked out toward the ocean as if intent on counting the gulls and pelicans flying low over the water.

  “I’d like to explain about last night.”

  Norma took her time looking back at him. “So explain.”

  He glanced at Rita.

  “I’m leaving,” she said.

  Norma clutched her arm. “Anything you want to say, you can say in front of her.”

  “Norma...” Rita backed up, but Norma’s grip on her arm grew tighter. Like a claw.

  Like she was terrified.

  Wow. Rita stepped closer to her friend and put an arm around her. It had been years since Norma had gotten this close to romance, and from the way her throat was working and her back was sweating, Rita guessed that the bored look on her face was a complete facade.

  “All right.” Stephen’s slight British accent sounded stronger. “I wanted you to know that the reason I don’t dance has nothing to do with you.”

  “Right.” Norma rolled her eyes, but Rita could feel her shoulders tightening.

  “There is nothing I’d like more than to take you in my arms,” he said, “but I just don’t have the skills to dance.”

  “Hmmph.” Norma turned away from him. “We done here? I’ve got work to do.”

  “Why don’t you have the skills?” Rita asked him. While Norma was barely looking at Stephen, Rita could read both sincerity and pain in his eyes.

  “I’ve recently...” He broke off, took a breath and then spoke up again. “I’ve recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. It explains some difficulties I’d been having with gait and balance. Walking, I manage quite well, but dancing is out of the question. I’d hoped...” He broke off. “Well. It doesn’t matter now. I just wanted you to know that it was nothing to do with you.”

  Norma was looking at him now. “You hoped what?”

  “I hoped there was a chance for us, but when I saw how important something like dancing is to you... Well. You deserve a man who can give you everything, a whole man. That’s all.”

  He turned and walked away, and Rita saw what she’d never noticed before, a slight shuffle to his step.

  “I thought it was me,” Norma said. “That nobody would want to—Stephen!”

  “Go after him,” Rita urged, and Norma did.

  Rita watched as Norma caught up and spoke urgently to Stephen. He shook his head and continued on, but she grabbed his hand, spoke some more, and then hugged him. Then they looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. When they hugged again and then walked off together, talking, Rita’s eyes blurred.

  No one deserved love more than Norma. Maybe, just maybe, she was going to find it.

  Rita had just found a push broom to brush muck and sand off a walkway when she heard a voice from above. “Rita? Is that you?”

  She looked up and saw her son leaning out over the third-floor railing. “Cash?”

  “What are you doing here?” He trotted down the stairs.

  “Just giving Norma a hand with the cleanup. What are you doing here this early? Hard at work?”

  He looked away. “I slept here.”

  “Why?” She’d gone back to sweeping, but when he didn’t answer, she stopped and looked at him. “You’re upset.”

  “Yeah.” He looked down. “Holly and I had a fight.”

  “That’s normal,” she said. “Why don’t you take her flowers or something?”

  “No,” he said. “I’m moving back to Atlanta. Leaving right away.”

  She leaned her broom back against the wall and faced him. “Away from Holly and your child? Why?”

  “She...” He trailed off, looked out toward the ocean, pressed his lips together. Then he looked back at Rita. “She kept something from me, something pretty major.”

  Rita frowned. “Holly doesn’t seem like she’d mislead you on purpose.”

  “I didn’t think so, either.”

  “How good is your source?”

  He looked at her a moment and frowned. “I don’t know exactly,” he said. “It’s my father. Orin.”

  * * *

  LATE FRIDAY MORNING, Holly woke up from a beautiful dream. Cash wasn’t angry at her anymore. He’d come back and looked in on Holly, then he’d gone to Penny’s room and picked her up and soothed her crying.

  Holly drifted back into sleep with a smile on her face. Woke up feeling warm and happy.

  Only gradually did she realize that Cash’s presence in the apartment had been a hopeful delusion.

  He couldn’t have forgiven her. He surely still hated her for what she’d done.

  She tossed, restless. She’d gone over and over it in her mind, and she still couldn’t figure out what she could have done differently. Oh, she could have told Cash the honest truth when she’d discovered that journal entry, but she’d been terrified that he would cut them off, emotionally if not financially. And Penny needed a daddy.

  Cash’s actions now made it seem like Tiff had been right: once Cash knew the truth, he’d lose all interest in his child. He hadn’t even touched Penny, let alone comforted her crying. He’d thrown down that big wad of money and left.

  How could he think she only wanted him for his money? The truth was, she’d fallen in love with him. With his humor and his kindness and his protective nature. With the way he cared for Penny. With the way he cared for her.

  Only he didn’t, not anymore. It hadn’t been stable and real, because it hadn’t lasted.

  The flicker of anger she felt burned out quickly, though. Despite all the risk of it, she should have told him the truth. Shouldn’t have kept herself isolated and kept the secret. She should have realized she needed him and needed him to know everything. Once there was a baby in the picture, that highly independent lifestyle had to go by the wayside.

  If she ever saw Cash again, she’d tell him that.

  Feeling too warm, she pushed off the covers and opened her eyes, blinking. It was later than she’d thought, way later, and the sun was heating up the room.

  Weird that Penny hadn’t woken up. But she’d been worn out by crying, herself.

  Feeling a hundred years old, Holly got out of bed and dressed and washed her face. Nothing like having a baby to keep you from wallowing in sadness.

  She opened the door to Penny’s room, glad it was bright and cheerful, glad she could provide a good place for her child. No matter what happened between her and Cash—especially if he was going to cut way down on his visits with Penny—Holly had to stay strong and be a good mother. “Good morning, sunshine,” she said, forcing cheer into her voice.

  Penny wasn’t stirring, so she walked over to the crib. A giant fist clamped around her chest as her mouth went dry as straw.

  Penny wasn’t there.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CASH GUNNED THE Tesla as he headed south toward Atlanta. It was a shiny, perfect December day in the South, although evidence of the recent tropical storm was visible along the roadsides: trees and electrical wires down, standing water in low-lying areas, pieces of debris.

  Amazing how a big storm could pass. Today, it was hard to believe the winds and rain had been so strong as to wreak this destruction.

  His phone buzzed for the umpteenth time, but he ignored it. His own storm had passed, mostly, too, leaving him sad and empty.

  He missed Penny fiercely, didn’t know if he could follow through with his idea of only seeing her once a month. In the short time he’d known her, she’d taken over a huge part of his heart. He liked to think that he was impor
tant to her, too, but he couldn’t swear to it. Penny had lots of people who loved her—Rita, his brothers and Holly. She’d be fine with minimal contact with Cash.

  Holly. He couldn’t shut her out of his mind. The look on her face when he’d thrown the money at her and walked toward the door... Well, it would have been priceless if he’d been only angry. But he was hurt, too, almost grieving a loss. Hard when something you were excited about turned to dust.

  His phone buzzed again, and since he was basically alone on this stretch of highway, he put the car on autopilot and glanced down at the screen. The same two numbers that had been trying to reach him all morning: a no-caller-ID, and Holly.

  Maybe it was cowardice, but he wasn’t going to call her. A man was only so strong. If she cried, or sweet-talked, he might turn around and go back. It had been hard enough to leave.

  But he couldn’t stay in Safe Haven feeling like a chump, knowing Holly had purposely deceived him, even entered into a relationship of sorts with him when she knew the basis of it was pure lies.

  When the phone buzzed once more, his heart leaped, but then he saw it was the no-caller-ID number. He hated his own hope that it was Holly calling again, hated the temptation to give in and talk to her. He took the call just to distract himself.

  “This Cash O’Dwyer?” The voice was unfamiliar: deeply Southern, young and male.

  “Yep.” He slowed down.

  “Good.” There was the sound of something rustling. Then a baby’s cry.

  It sounded like Penny.

  His heart skipped a beat. “Who’s this?” he asked as he eased the car onto the berm and stopped.

  “My name ain’t important. But this li’l baby goes by the name of Penny.”

  Cash’s heart stopped. “Where are you?”

  “That ain’t important, either.” The man gave a low chuckle. “What’s important is the money you’re going to give me if you want to see your baby again.”

  Rage and terror exploded inside Cash’s head, but he fought down his emotions. “Yes. What do you want?” His phone had a record feature and he clicked it on.