The Christmas House

by Victoria James

  “Okay, ready to go?” Wyatt asked, appearing in the hallway.

  She gave herself a mental shake, refusing to sit in a past that was steeped with pain. She shot him a smile. “Sure. Sam’s all tucked in bed?”

  He nodded, smiling. “She is. She knows I’m walking you home,” he said, taking her coat from the closet and holding it out for her.

  She could actually feel herself blushing as she put her arms into the sleeves. “Thank you,” she said, cringing at her breathless voice. Why was she like this? Why couldn’t she fake casual and cool? Because he was … he was more than any other man she’d ever been around.

  A few minutes later they were walking down his driveway. The night air was brisk and cold and exactly what she needed to cool her overheated face.

  “I always love the sky in Silver Springs,” she said, looking up for a moment and pausing to take it all in. The stars were bright and copious and the moon so large that all the pines were almost completely illuminated as they swayed with the wind.

  “I know. This view makes me happy we moved from the city,” he said as they walked along the road, their boots crunching the snow.

  She glanced over at him, her heart racing, and broke the silence as they walked up the path to the front porch of The Christmas House. “Where did you go that day?”

  His jaw clenched and he didn’t answer. There was a silence in the air as they kept walking, the kind that made her very aware of the intimacy of this moment. They stood at the door and light streamed through the transom windows. He glanced down for a moment and then up at her, his eyes filled with a pain that made her want to reach out and touch him.

  “We had to leave. My, uh, my mom was in the hospital for a while and then we moved around a lot after that,” he said, his voice thick.

  She wanted to ask more but didn’t want to push him. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. She wanted to walk over to him and wrap her arms around him, around the boy he was, and make up for everything he’d lost. But they weren’t the same people, and their lives were complicated now.

  He shrugged and took a step back. “It was a long time ago.”

  She nodded. “So, I’ll be by tomorrow,” she said, her hand on the doorknob.

  “Sure. Thanks again,” he said, his deep voice slicing through the barriers she was so desperately trying to keep up.

  “No problem,” she said, turning the handle.

  “Hey, Charlotte?”

  She paused and turned to look at him. He was standing halfway down the long porch, his handsome face in the shadows. “Yes?”

  “Thanks again for everything you’re doing … and with Sam. I missed you,” he said, his voice was thick with emotion.

  She nodded, barely able to breathe normally, her words buried deep inside her chest, trapped. She wanted to tell him it was the best night she’d had in a long time. She had missed him too.

  It had felt real and right and made her long for things that she’d forbidden herself to long for. But it was silly. These were silly little thoughts from a woman who had no experience with family and love. “Me too. Good night, Wyatt,” she said, forcing herself to walk away from him.

  The warmth from The Christmas House flooded her, and she leaned against the door, closing her eyes, and just as she suspected, the image of Wyatt was there, teasing her with the idea that there could be so much more out there for her, if she wanted it. She didn’t want him to belong in her past anymore. She wanted him now. She just needed the courage to go for it.

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHRISTMAS EVE 1969

  SILVER SPRINGS

  “Merry Christmas. May you have the courage to go after all the dreams in your heart, baby Wendy,” Sister Juliette said, raising her glass and toasting all of them.

  Ruby’s heart swelled, and it made it almost impossible to swallow the champagne in her mouth. But she did, as she looked around the dining room table. It was filled with the sisters from St. Michael’s and of course her and Mrs. Pemberton, and baby Wendy, who was being passed around like pumpkin pie among all the women.

  This was a room of dreams. Ruby had always thought it would be the perfect room for large families to gather and share in the joys of the holidays. Last Christmas Eve she had been a broken woman—just a girl, really. Now she was surrounded by new family, with a child of her own, with a knowledge of the world that she hadn’t had before.

  “Merry Christmas to all of you. There will never be enough words to express my gratitude to every one of you. But know that you have changed my life and Wendy’s. One day I will find a way to make you all proud,” she said, her voice wobbly as she forced her hand in the air triumphantly.

  Everyone clinked glasses with hers. Ruby stood as the doorbell rang. “Why don’t I get that? You all carry on with dinner,” she said, placing her linen napkin down on her seat. She paused to kiss the top of sweet Wendy’s bald head before leaving the room, the sound of animated chatter lingering and floating in the air.

  Ruby opened the door to find Harry standing there, a handsome vision against the blustery snow swirling around him. “Merry Christmas, Ruby,” he said, a slight smile on his face.

  Ruby stepped out onto the porch, her heart pounding in her chest. “Merry Christmas, Harry! What are you doing here?”

  He took off his hat, and that thick dark hair swayed slightly in the harsh wind. “Ruby … I … I came back to ask you one more time. I’ve met a great girl and … before I go any further, I want to know that this door is closed here with you.”

  She ignored the stab of jealousy that filled her. Whoever the girl was, she was a lucky one. She shook her head. “No, Harry. You go and live your life and get married to that great girl,” she whispered softly, more softly than she intended. A part of her hoped the wind would carry away her words the moment she said them, but when his face fell she knew he’d heard her. She would never burden him like that. She would never be the woman he was forced to marry out of duty, no matter how lovely the idea of being his wife.

  He looked away, and she studied his strong profile, the hard edges of his jaw, and waited for him to say something, wanting to hear that voice again. “You’re a great girl too, Ruby, and I think we could be happy together.”

  “Harry, I’m not going to let you do that. I have a life here now, a healthy baby, a new start. I can’t go back. I can’t. It’s too late.” She didn’t want to add that she didn’t want to see his parents, that she would destroy his relationship with them. They would never forgive him for marrying her. And maybe, if she were a better person, she would be able to let go of the bitterness and resentment that was chained to her heart when she thought of them and her parents for tossing her aside like that. But she hadn’t gotten over it still. It was something that burned inside her, that she hadn’t shared with Sister Juliette because she knew how wrong it was. She needed to find a way to forgive, but she couldn’t. She could never forget crying out for her mother, knowing her mother would never come to her again. Now she was a mother and she answered each of Wendy’s cries, knowing she would give that child all her unconditional love.

  Harry rubbed the back of his neck and then finally looked at her. “If you ever need anything, I will always be there for you. But you should know that it’s never too late for a happy ending, Ruby,” he said, those words touching her heart, stroking her soul, even though she knew that, for her, it was too late.

  “Thank you,” she managed to whisper, refusing to cry.

  He gave a nod in her direction. “Merry Christmas, Ruby.”

  “Merry Christmas, Harry,” she whispered as he turned and walked down the long porch. She held her gaze on his strong, tall figure, knowing this would be the last time she saw him. He was on his way to start a life with another woman, and Ruby would never have a right to be a part of it. She would always be a part of his past. Looking back was a fruitless endeavor. It held nothing for any of them.

  She walked back into the house, closer to the voices and laughter of the
future that she was claiming. “Ruby, my dear, you look as though you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right?” Mrs. Pemberton asked.

  Everyone turned to look at Ruby, including Wendy. She forced a smile on her face. “Of course I am.”

  “Good, then it’s my turn for a toast,” Mrs. Pemberton said, leaning heavily on the side of the table as she stood. They waited as she coughed. The older woman had already warned Ruby that every winter she came down with bronchitis but not to worry. The sound of that cough did have everyone frowning, and just when Ruby was about to help her, she stopped and picked up her champagne glass. “This is to all of you, but especially Ruby and Wendy. You have made my dreams of seeing this dining room table filled with life and laughter and a new generation come true. Merry Christmas to us, this wonderful, unconventional mix of women. May the new year be filled with good health for us all!”

  As they toasted and laughed, Ruby picked up Wendy and held her close, wishing that life could always be like this, that every Christmas could be filled with people like this and love like this. And she wished that Harry would find love and live a good life.

  * * *

  Wyatt knew he was in trouble the moment he entered the house and smelled baking. It evoked a feeling of comfort, warmth. He never baked. He probably could if he tried, he just didn’t have the time. Sam had no interest. When he was growing up, there hadn’t been a baked anything in his house. Aunt Mary had told him that his mother used to bake, but his father had basically destroyed all her happiness. He had never walked into a house with the smell of baking, had never known how the smell of vanilla and sugar could lull a person into thinking everything was going to be okay.

  He shook off that sappiness as he hung his jacket, the anticipation of seeing Charlotte making it worth it. Christmas songs were playing again, and he smiled at the sound of laughter—Charlotte’s and his daughter’s. Something settled in his chest, a heaviness, a contentment he had never experienced. It was Charlotte.

  The other night it had taken everything he had to not open up completely to Charlotte. But once they went down that road of sharing their pasts and their secrets, there would be no going back. He knew neither of them could get hurt again. Charlotte wore her trepidation on her sleeve, and he didn’t want to risk anything hurting Sam.

  He took off his boots and coat and made his way into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway, which had almost become like a new routine for him. He had never been the sentimental type, but it was too good a picture, too good a feeling to not want to savor. Charlotte was currently swearing under her breath and then covering her mouth as she burned herself on some sad-looking cookies, while his daughter looked delighted by the accidental swearing.

  “Trouble?” he said, walking in.

  They both looked up at him startled. “Charlotte and I burned the cookies,” Sam said, not looking upset by it at all.

  Charlotte winced, her face turning red. He didn’t really care about the cookies. He cared about the feeling she managed to bring out in him. Two feelings actually—one of warmth and family, and then there were the other feelings … the not so platonic kind. Like, he couldn’t ignore the immediate attraction he felt for her the second he saw her. Every damn time. He found himself wanting to reach out to kiss her or touch her. His eyes took in the curves that he knew he wanted to feel against him and the mouth that he wanted to taste.

  “Those don’t look too bad,” he said, joining them at the island. He was contemplating trying one of the black cookies, despite their probable carcinogen rating, just so he could get his mind off kissing Charlotte.

  “I wouldn’t suggest it,” Charlotte said, moving the tray.

  “Don’t worry, Dad, we have another tray ready to go in the oven. We got sidetracked and forgot the cookies because we finished all the kitchen organizing.”

  He didn’t even know who his daughter was anymore. She was all smiles and amicability. There wasn’t a scowl in sight. “Wow. That was fast. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done,” he said, turning to Charlotte.

  She raised sparkling eyes to his and hell if he didn’t actually feel himself getting pulled in. “We were motivated to finish because it meant we could eat cookies.”

  “And all the sugar is being counteracted by these,” Sam said, holding up a green drink.

  “Ugh. What is that?” He said, frowning.

  Sam shoved the drink in his direction. “Dad, you have to try these smoothies from that new place in town.”

  He gently pushed it back. “Uh, no. I wish Mable’s hadn’t closed. Things aren’t supposed to change in small towns. I don’t need to try their smoothies.”

  “It’s the pine energizer,” Sam said, wriggling her eyebrows and sipping from the straw.

  Charlotte laughed and shot him a look. “Sam warned me not to pick one up for you.”

  “Dad drinks a powder so he doesn’t have to actually chew vegetables. Come to think of it, the only time he eats salad is when you’re around.”

  Wyatt kept his head in the fridge a little longer, so that the heat hitting his face wouldn’t be noticeable. Why was his daughter constantly trying to embarrass him? He forced himself to focus on the contents of the fridge and that’s when he noticed … that he could actually see things. Like individual items. And the fruit and vegetables. All the ones he didn’t eat. The shelves sparkled, and the doors of the fridge had neatly grouped bottles of condiments and his greens powders. “Wow. This looks like a brand new fridge,” he said, shutting the door and turning around to Charlotte.

  She smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Sam was a big help.”

  Sam pointed her awful drink to the pantry. “Open the pantry, Dad. You’ll die.”

  “Great, exactly what I need to do,” he said with a laugh as he followed her instructions.

  Lo and behold, clear bins lined most shelves and like items were grouped together. The varieties of cereal were placed in tall, clear containers. Which was perfect since his daughter adored putting empty boxes of cereal back in the pantry and then complaining to him when they were out.

  “What do you think, Dad? Don’t spend the whole night in there, look at all the cupboards too. You know that pots and pans drawer you can never get to shut without swearing? It’s all done too.”

  He cleared his throat and crossed the room to open the drawer. Pots were stacked and the damn lids that drove him nuts were all lined up in something that looked like a stainless steel file holder. “This is great, wow. Thank you, Charlotte.”

  “You’re very welcome. But there was no way I could have gotten this done so quickly if it hadn’t been for Sam,” she said, shooting his daughter a smile. Sam beamed at her as though Charlotte had just given her the latest iPhone.

  He glanced at his watch. He hated to have to leave. “Are you ready for ballet, Sam?”

  “Nope. Almost. I’ll go get dressed. I already ate dinner. A delicious salad. Oh, and I’m going with Cat and then sleeping at their house tonight.”

  “Does Scott know that?” he asked. He wasn’t about to start thinking about the fact that his house was actually going to be empty and that Charlotte was here.

  Sam rolled her eyes, and he felt a bit more comfortable knowing the daughter he remembered was actually still in there. “Of course. He promised we’d order pizza and get the TV in the family room.”

  “Sounds like he’ll have a fun night,” Wyatt said with a laugh, glancing over at Charlotte.

  “I do make good salads, and I saved you some,” she said.

  He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her salads, that it was her. But that would be crossing a line and he’d rather never cross that line so that he could have her in their lives. This was the house he always wanted—as a kid, as an adult. One that was filled with teasing and laughter and love … he’d given up on that dream after Leanne had walked out. But now …

  “I’m going to go pack,” Sam said, racing by him and then stopping in the doorway. “Are those cookies going to be ready befor
e I go, Char?”

  Charlotte glanced at the oven. “Probably not, but I promise I’ll have a stash just for you so your dad doesn’t eat them.”

  “Hey, that’s offensive,” he said, reeling. This was the kind of conversation people had after months of knowing each other. Sam was even referring to her as “Char/”

  “I might have told her about your issues with sugar,” Sam said, laughing and running out of the room.

  Suddenly the room felt small and quiet. Charlotte was washing her hands, getting ready to leave, and he didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want any of this to end. This house hadn’t seen this kind of laughter or lightness in … forever. Maybe never, because when he and Sam had come here two years ago they were different people. Back in the city they were different people. When Sam’s mom had been with them, they’d been different people. There had never been much laughter between him and his wife. There had been a lot of fights. A lot of shitty words spoken that made him uncomfortable now, looking back. He’d been younger. More of a hothead. He wasn’t without blame in how their marriage ended. He regretted not doing better, not trying harder. But they’d been kids practically. Way too young to be parents, to be married. He understood that he had never loved Sam’s mother the way he should because they were very different people, but maybe if he’d tried harder, then she would have had a role in Sam’s life. He regretted not being able to give his daughter the mother she deserved. He regretted not being enough for his little girl.

  “So, um, these will be done in ten minutes. You just have to pull them out of the oven when the timer goes off and then let them cool on the rack over here. Don’t forget to use an oven mitt,” she said, shooting him a smile.

  He grinned. “Did you actually just remind me to use an oven mitt?”