The Christmas House

by Victoria James

  CHAPTER NINE

  AUGUST 1969

  SILVER SPRINGS

  “‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens …’” Ruby recited the Bible verse repeatedly as she scrubbed the bathroom floor. Gasping out loud as another pain tore through her abdomen, she recited the verse out loud this time. She couldn’t go into labor yet. She wasn’t strong enough. She wasn’t ready to be a mother.

  But the pain grew in intensity, robbing her of her words, her hands digging into the rag she was using, holding her breath, willing the pain to subside. After a minute or so, the deep grip the pain had on her lessened, and she took a few long, deep breaths. She recited the Bible verse again and then finished cleaning the tile. Standing carefully, she glanced at herself in the mirror, worry growing, at the pallor in her face even though she was sweating. You are not going into labor. You are not going into labor.

  She hurriedly placed her cleaning items in the bucket she was carrying and washed her hands. Now she needed to put away all the laundry and hopefully get to the ironing. She was careful not to disturb Mrs. Pemberton, who was sleeping. If the older woman found her like this she was going to insist Ruby rest while she called the midwife.

  The reality of becoming a mother—a single mother—was hitting her hard this week. She hadn’t slept a wink in the last two weeks. Between getting up to use the bathroom a few times every night and the ache in her back and the visions of everyone in her old life haunting her dreams, sleep was not for her. In fact, she’d been wallowing in self-pity during the night. But the deal she had made with herself was that, when daylight hit, she would not yearn for any of those people anymore.

  Ruby gasped as another pain hit, and she clung to the side of the handrail, sitting on the top step of the grand staircase. The pains were too close together now. She knew what this meant. She squeezed her eyes shut and couldn’t prevent the whimper that came from her mouth.

  “‘Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.’” She chanted those words, aware that she was speaking out loud now, as the awful pain gripped her.

  “One of my favorite and most comforting verses,” Mrs. Pemberton’s sweet, soothing voice said. She rubbed Ruby’s back. “Just breathe, child. You will be fine. You get through this contraction and then I will call the midwife,” she said, rubbing Ruby’s back in a circular motion. Ruby forced herself to concentrate on the motion, on the comfort Mrs. Pemberton was providing.

  “I can’t do this,” she whispered out loud, hating that she was so weak, that she wasn’t able to project the image of the hardworking, confident housekeeper.

  “You are not alone, Ruby. I will be here with you,” she said.

  Ruby wanted her mother. She wanted her mother desperately. She let the tears she’d been holding onto for months fall, hoping Mrs. Pemberton would think it was all just pain.

  “Ruby, you are a courageous young woman. A role model to others and to this child you will have,” Mrs. Pemberton said, moving from behind her to take her hands. Ruby stared into her kind eyes and wondered how this woman who had known her less than a year could show her this much grace, this much love. As she held her hands, clutched her hands, she stopped wishing for her mother. She stopped wishing for Richard. And she started to love the woman in front of her.

  “Thank you. I just … I wanted to finish cleaning first,” Ruby sputtered out as the pain started to subside. Her greatest fear was that she wouldn’t be as useful to Mrs. Pemberton and she’d be homeless with a new baby to support.

  “There is a lifetime for cleaning. It’s not every day that a house gets to host the birth of a child. My husband always used to say this was a house filled with magic and love and it brought people together. You are a part of the magic here, Ruby. I’m so happy to share this with you,” she said.

  The light shining in through the windows illuminated Mrs. Pemberton’s head, and Ruby didn’t know if she was starting to hallucinate, but it was almost as though there were a halo shining over her.

  “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” she said, completely humbled by this woman’s generosity.

  Mrs. Pemberton squeezed her hands. “How do you think you came here?”

  “Sister Juliette,” she choked.

  “Grace led you to Sister Juliette and grace led you here. Grace will always lead you home. My husband and I always wanted a child. This house was meant to be filled with children. But … I couldn’t. I was never able to carry a baby to term. I have lost three precious babies, Ruby. But now you are here. You are a gift and your baby is a gift. You are a long-forgotten, now-answered prayer. We are family now, you are home,” she said, leaning down and kissing the top of Ruby’s head.

  * * *

  “Are you in seventh or eighth grade, Sam?” Charlotte asked, peering into Wyatt’s fridge. Sam was sitting at the breakfast bar, chatting with her and doing homework.

  “Seventh. But I can’t wait for next year. I hate how grade eights lord their power over the rest of us,” she said, making a face.

  Charlotte let out a soft laugh and pulled out some prewashed lettuce. She joined Sam at the counter. “I remember that. I always thought it was so stupid, especially since we were only a year apart.”

  Sam nodded. “Exactly. Are you making dinner again?”

  Charlotte paused, heat flooding her face as she remembered the last time. She was saved from coming up with an answer when Wyatt walked through the front door.

  “Hey, guys,” he called out as he approached the kitchen, as though this was a regular thing.

  Charlotte’s stomach fluttered as Wyatt walked into the room. His end-of-day look was impossibly handsome. His dark hair looked as though he’d run his hands through it multiple times, and stubble lined his strong jaw. He was wearing a navy T-shirt that emphasized his wide, strong shoulders and biceps and hung loosely over his flat stomach. His worn jeans fit his lean and athletic build perfectly, and Charlotte forced herself to glance away in case he noticed her staring. He was … he was beautiful and luckily not paying her any attention as he walked over to give Sam a kiss on the head and place a paper bag on the island. Sam peered inside.

  “Hey, Charlotte,” he said, with a smile that curled her toes.

  “Hi,” she said, smiling back, forcing herself to appear normal and not at all like she’d just been checking him out.

  “I hope you like chicken and roast potatoes, Charlotte, because that’s what Dad brought home,” Sam said, placing the food on the island.

  Charlotte’s gaze went back and forth between Sam and Wyatt. “Oh, um, I was just going to head out. And you have to rush off to ballet—”

  “Canceled. The snow is really coming down out there. We’re in for a big storm,” Wyatt said, coming to stand beside her at the island and washing his hands.

  “Perfect! Do you want to stay, Charlotte?” Sam asked, leaning forward.

  She couldn’t say no to Sam again. She didn’t want to, either. She smiled at her, pushing aside all the reasons she shouldn’t. “Then I’d love to. I’ll just finish this salad,” she said.

  “I’ll set the table,” Sam said, hopping off the bar stool and walking to the cupboards.

  “Should we eat in the dining room since the table is filled up?” Sam asked, holding a stack of dishes and frowning at the table.

  “Sounds good to me,” Wyatt said.

  “Sorry about that. I’ll have that all sorted and put away tomorrow,” Charlotte said, adding dried cranberries to the bowl filled with lettuce.

  “No worries. Take your time. How about I get that bottle of wine? Do you like red? I think I have a bottle of merlot somewhere,” he said, leaning over to check the built-in wine rack on the side of the island.

  “Yeah, Dad’s more of a beer drinker,” Sam said wisely as she gathered the cutlery.

  Charlotte swallowed her laugh and added walnuts to the bowl while Sam disappeared into the dining room again.

&nb
sp; “You’ll definitely need this after you dine with a tween,” Wyatt said, in a hushed voice as he opened the bottle of wine.

  Charlotte laughed. “She’s lovely. Really. You have a great kid,” she said softly.

  He held her gaze and, for a second, it looked as though he was going to brush off the comment. “Thank you, I think she’s pretty great too. There have been many days where I’ve wondered what I was doing, if I was screwing up along the way. With work and just everything, sometimes I felt like I wasn’t going to make it. But she’s my world. And her happiness is the most important thing to me. You remember what it was like … I wanted more for her,” he said, his voice thick.

  Charlotte swallowed hard, past the lump in her throat, past all those emotions and memories. He was opening up to her, just like he had when they were kids. “You make it look easy. Like you’re a natural, and I can tell she knows she is very loved,” she said softly.

  His jaw clenched and he looked away. “Thanks,” he said, holding out a glass of wine.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the glass. Her fingertips brushed his and she knew, even before their fingers touched, that she’d feel a jolt of something. She knew because it had always been that way for her. She took a quick sip and she wondered if he’d experienced it as well. “This is nice,” she said after putting the glass back on the island.

  “Glad you like it. Can I help with that salad?” he asked as she tossed the lettuce.

  “All done. I’ll admit I was a little surprised that you had walnuts and dried cranberries …,” she said, looking at him over the rim of her glass.

  He let out a short laugh. “Believe me, I’m just as surprised as you are. But actually, it was part of a gift basket my friend gave me,” he said.

  “Table is all set. Can I bring the salad in?” Sam asked, walking back into the kitchen.

  “Sure, here you go,” Charlotte said, sliding the bowl across the counter.

  They both watched Sam pick up the bowl and walk back into the dining room humming “Winter Wonderland” under her breath.

  “Let’s go join Sam,” Wyatt said, waiting for her to pass him in the doorway.

  One of the things that had always surprised her about Wyatt was his manners. She knew he hadn’t learned that at home. Charlotte sat beside Sam, and Wyatt took the seat opposite her. The dining room was cozy, with a bay window that overlooked the backyard. The large, dark wood table and upholstered parson chairs were the only furniture in the room.

  “We should say grace,” Sam said, and Charlotte caught the flicker of surprise that shot across Wyatt’s face.

  “Sure,” he agreed, bowing his head while Charlotte did the same.

  “This is so good,” Sam said, a few moments later, taking an enthusiastic bite.

  They ate in silence for a bit. Wyatt offered everyone seconds before helping himself to more chicken. Charlotte sat back in her seat, sipping her wine and listening to one of Sam’s stories about the weird kids in her class.

  “So how do you two know each other again?” Sam asked, looking back and forth between them.

  Charlotte looked at Wyatt and raised her eyebrow. She’d let him take the lead since she had no idea how much he’d told his daughter about his childhood.

  “We lived in the same apartment building in Toronto and went to the same school,” he said.

  “That’s so cool. Did you go to high school together?”

  Charlotte tensed, waiting for his reply.

  He gave a quick shake of his head. “No. I, uh, left in eighth grade.”

  “What was my dad like, Charlotte?” Sam asked, turning to her with a big smile on her face.

  Charlotte took a sip of wine and willed her face not to go red. Damn. She felt like they were being interrogated. “He was … nice. He was a really nice guy,” she said, wishing she could expand without revealing her feelings.

  “But I guess you felt sorry for him because he had no friends,” Sam said, shooting Wyatt a teasing glance.

  He barked out a laugh and picked up his own wine glass and leaned back in his chair.

  Charlotte smiled. “Actually, your dad was really cool. Honestly, he was probably the coolest guy in school.”

  Sam’s mouth dropped open. “I’m so shocked.”

  Wyatt coughed. “Thanks a lot, Sam.”

  Sam put her elbows on the table. “This is just so surprising to me. Were you guys like girlfriend and boyfriend?”

  Charlotte choked on her wine.

  “Uh, no. Because twelve- and thirteen-year-olds shouldn’t have romantic relationships,” Wyatt said, saving her from answering. She knew her face was all kinds of red at this point.

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Fine, maybe in your century, but not mine.”

  Wyatt stood. “As long as you and I are in the same century, Sam, you have to go by my rules. Let’s clear the table instead of scaring Charlotte off,” he said, giving Sam a pointed stare.

  “No worries, Dad, I’ll do it. You can sit and relax a bit,” Sam said, flashing him a smile before grabbing their plates.

  “I should probably get going,” Charlotte said, standing.

  “No! You can stay,” Sam said, appearing in the doorway.

  Charlotte smiled. “Oh, hun, I’m sure you guys need to get on with your evening and you have homework and stuff. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon,” she said, glancing over at Wyatt, who was silent.

  “There’s a snowstorm, it’s the perfect time to watch a Christmas movie,” Sam said, the longing in her voice making Charlotte’s heart squeeze.

  “We’d love the company, but if you have to get going we understand that too,” Wyatt said, his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, a rare glimmer of vulnerability in his eyes.

  “Please?” Sam said.

  Charlotte couldn’t walk away from them. And she didn’t want to. “Okay, why not? I haven’t watched a Christmas movie yet this year.”

  Sam continued cleaning up the kitchen while she and Wyatt walked into the large family room. The peaked ceiling overhung a large, stone, wood-burning fireplace and two large sofas. Wyatt rattled off the titles of different Christmas movies.

  “Oh, will Sam like It’s a Wonderful Life?” Charlotte asked.

  Wyatt shrugged. “I have no idea. She’s never wanted to watch it before, but she might like it. She does have an aversion to black and white, though.”

  They were standing side by side, close enough that she could smell his woodsy, fresh scent. Close enough that she could lean her head on his shoulder or touch his arms if she wanted to. She took a step back.

  “All right, I’ve got popcorn for all. Let’s watch!” Sam said, bursting into the room, popping the tension between them like a balloon.

  * * *

  A few hours later Charlotte was curled up on the sofa, sipping her second glass of wine very slowly and having the best night she’d had in a very long time. The fireplace made the room toasty, and its flickering lights were soothing—which was great because now that Sam had fallen asleep on the couch, things were awkward with just her and Wyatt. She kept her eyes glued to the large screen, pretending she was absorbed in it, even though she’d seen the movie five thousand times and her thoughts at that moment weren’t about Jimmy Stewart and his problems, but her own.

  Wyatt looked over at her as the movie ended, and she quickly jumped off the sofa like it had caught on fire. She was hyperaware of him, his every move, his every sound. “Well, I should really get going,” she said, wishing the lights were on and it didn’t feel so intimate in here.

  “Thanks for, uh, staying and watching this with us,” Wyatt said, standing. He had an easy, relaxed charm to him that seemed a contradiction to his physical appearance. He seemed like he should be tough and unapproachable, but he had a wit and a kindness to him that made her want to know more about the man he’d become.

  “Why don’t I help Sam up to bed and walk you home?” he said.

  She waved a hand. “Oh, gosh no, don’t worry ab
out it. I’m fine.”

  His lips twitched. “Not this again. You know it’s what we do, Char. We walk places together,” he said, his voice thick and his eyes sparkling.

  Warmth flooded her body. It’s what we do. Char. “Okay. You’re right. We have taken a lot of walks. What’s one more?”

  It was a walk and nothing more. In a few weeks she’d be back in Toronto. She was very happy with her life there. She liked her small condo in the city, she liked running her business, and she liked the simplicity of her everyday life. Having relationships meant that you were only fifty percent in control of your life. The other person, without warning, could completely change the trajectory of your life, and why would anyone want that? She knew kids and marriage weren’t in the cards for her, and she was fine with that. Look at what had happened to the rest of the women in her family. Tragic. She had no intention of ruining her life. Why strive for something that could be amazing when her life was already … good? Why risk it all? She’d never understood that.

  “Okay, I’ll get Sam up to bed and meet you at the door,” he said, walking over to Sam and crouching down.

  Charlotte walked back into the kitchen, listening to Wyatt’s deep voice speaking to Sam. She stood in the door and watched as he walked his daughter down the hall, his arm around her shoulders, and a warmth flooded her body as her throat tightened.

  What was happening to her? Maybe she was becoming a sap like Olivia. It couldn’t be the sight of the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, the perfectly masculine Wyatt, so thoughtfully taking care of his daughter, could it? He was clearly the real deal—a man who was strong and capable and loving.

  He wasn’t a man who would just walk out on a family … like her father had. Her father had been her hero. He had been there for her every morning and every night, until he wasn’t. The sun rose and set with him and then he’d destroyed every sunrise and every sunset until she’d reclaimed them as an adult. Or she thought she had. But maybe the fact that she never let anyone get close meant that her father still held onto a piece of her heart that she wasn’t giving away to anyone.