The Christmas House

by Victoria James

  “Oh, right. Having a husband walk out on me and ditch me is my fault, is that what you’re saying?” their mother yelled back.

  The humor was sucked out of the room, like a powerful vacuum, and was replaced with a weighty blanket of memories.

  “I didn’t say that. Of course that was never the right thing to do. Ever. But have you really reflected on the type of mother and wife you were? You have two daughters in this house and do you know anything about what’s going on in their lives? You have poor, sweet Olivia, who has always tried to please everyone and keep everyone smiling, on the brink of a breakdown.”

  Charlotte didn’t even look at her sister, she just passed her the box of Kleenex, and then pulled one out for herself, just as Olivia blew her nose loudly.

  She stared at the screen, with the happy couple paused in Hallmark-land. They had been searching for the perfect Christmas tree and were smiling and happy, and their biggest problem was that one of them was from the city and didn’t celebrate Christmas. If only it were so easy.

  “It’s not my fault Olivia is that way. That’s just her personality.”

  “Then you have Charlotte, who has been so hurt by you and Mac that she can’t stop organizing—bordering on OCD in my opinion—because she was raised in a house with so much disorder that she uses it as a way to control her life. That little girl was trying to keep your marriage together by keeping the house together. She hasn’t had a relationship her entire adult life. Do you really think that’s healthy, Wendy? Oh, I suppose you’re not to blame for any of this?”

  Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and choked on the sob in her chest. “Grandma’s killing me. Did you know there was this much wrong with us? I thought I just liked color-coding,” she managed to strangle out. She grabbed a few Kleenexes from the box Olivia was holding for her.

  “Oh, so basically everything is my fault.”

  “Fix it. Be a mother now. It’s not too late.”

  “I really don’t need advice from someone who was so perfect that their fiancé killed himself,” their mother said.

  Charlotte’s body froze, and she and Olivia slowly turned to face each other. “What did she just say?” Charlotte whispered.

  Olivia clutched Charlotte’s arm. “This is so bad. I have no idea what Mom is talking about. I think we need to say something.”

  “How dare you, Wendy? How dare you speak to me like that, about one of the most horrific things in my life?”

  “What is happening?” Olivia whispered.

  “He was a weak man,” Grandma Ruby said, an uncharacteristic break in her voice.

  “Oh, that’s rich. Now you’re even insulting my dead father. You’re better than my dead father. Thanks a lot, Mom.”

  “Wendy, I’ve had enough. Yes, yes, I made mistakes, and I faced them. Choices I can never take back, but at least I faced them. Alone. I didn’t wallow and pout and blame the world for my problems. You’ve always had me. I didn’t have a soul until those nuns took me in. I was on the street with not a dime to my name and no husband attached to the baby in my womb. Don’t you go comparing your life to mine.”

  “Now it’s all making sense,” Charlotte whispered, her stomach churning with wine and popcorn and family secrets.

  Olivia nodded, dropping her hand, her eyes as wide as the holly-rimmed china saucers on the table.

  “Oh, so sorry. I’m not going to play the game of who had a worse life, Mom. But you should really stop and think of what my life was like, being raised by someone like you. So high and mighty—”

  “Oh, Wendy. High and mighty? I cleaned toilets, I scrubbed these floors on my hands and knees. All the while taking care of a newborn baby. How dare you? How dare you? All the stupid things you’ve done—I’ve never turned you away. Don’t compare yourself to me. My parents shut the door in my pregnant, innocent face and left me to freeze in the Toronto winter. I’m not babying you anymore. You want to turn your life around? Then be a real mother and a real grandmother. If you’re looking for me to hold your hand and tell you how difficult your life has been and listen to you talk about all the people you want to blame, then go somewhere else.”

  There was silence then, and Charlotte and Olivia stared at each other, mouths open, the moment so similar to ones they’d had as children as they had listened to their parents arguing. “We have to go in there and break this up. I’m worried for Grandma,” Charlotte said standing.

  “I agree. Let’s go together,” Olivia said, already making a beeline for the door.

  “Should we ask about what they were fighting about?” Olivia said, pausing.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No. Not tonight. Maybe when things calm down.”

  Olivia nodded and they walked out of the room. This was what Charlotte had been avoiding for so long. The fighting. The secrets. The emotional toll it all took. The arguments reminded her of her childhood—the disruption, the chaos, the insecurity. But they weren’t kids anymore, and this shouldn’t bother her. In a couple of weeks, she’d be back in the city. She’d be able to walk into her calm and peaceful condo every night, never having to worry about an argument.

  The scene in the hallway was not good. Their mother was pretending to pack her already packed purse while Grandma Ruby was standing there with a fierce frown. “Why don’t we just agree to disagree tonight and wake up tomorrow refreshed?” Olivia said, with a valiant attempt at sounding cheerful.

  Their mother flung her red scarf over her neck, the image suddenly reminding Charlotte of Snoopy the Flying Ace that she had watched relentlessly when she was a kid. She stifled a giggle, then coughed when everyone looked at her. Olivia’s eyes were comically wide. “Sorry, too much wine.”

  Grandma Ruby’s eyes filled with tears, and Charlotte regretted the callousness of her remark. “I’m sorry, Grandma. Don’t worry. Olivia and I have a two glass limit pact and we’ve never broken it.”

  Their mother let out a strangled noise and marched to the door. “Well, I guess I’m the only one who’s imperfect!”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and spoke the words she really didn’t want to say, but she did it for the grandmother who had always put them first. She deserved a great Christmas. And Charlotte knew that, for her, it meant having them all there under one roof. “Mom, we all love you, and no one is trying to make you feel bad. Why don’t we take Liv’s suggestion and start over again tomorrow?”

  Wendy crossed her arms, and her shoulders relaxed slightly.

  “When Charlotte and I go on our walk tomorrow, I can leave Dawn here and the two of you can have some bonding time,” Olivia said with a strained smile.

  Their mother gave them a wobbly smile. “That sounds nice. Okay. Let’s try again,” she said, extending her arms. She and Olivia hugged her.

  “You too, Mom,” she said, motioning to Grandma Ruby.

  Grandma Ruby came over, and they wrapped their arms around her too.

  The four of them stood there and Charlotte knew this should be a happy moment, but she didn’t feel happiness. She felt agitated. She’d had hugs from her mother before, and they meant nothing. This was all temporary. Everything with her parents had been temporary. She was happy for her grandmother, she was happy that Olivia was looking better, but it wasn’t enough. There was something missing. Something for her. Someone for her.

  “Well, I’d better go to bed. Dawn usually wakes up at least once during the night,” Olivia said, pulling back.

  “That’s wise, dear. I think I’ll head off to bed as well,” Grandma Ruby said.

  “Me too, I’m wiped,” their mother said and the three of them walked up the stairs.

  Charlotte couldn’t bring herself to move yet. “I’ll clean up the family room,” she called out after their retreating figures.

  Olivia paused. “Oh shoot. I’ll help.”

  Charlotte waved her off. “No, no. It’ll only take me a minute. Go to bed,” she said, giving her sister a smile and walking to the family room before Olivia could argue.


  She piled all their things into the empty bowl, her thoughts on the argument they’d overheard. What had her mother been talking about? A part of her didn’t even want to know. Then there was Grandma’s analysis of her and Olivia; as much as it made her uncomfortable, she was right. Grandma Ruby was always right.

  None of them were living their best lives—maybe her most of all. She had been on the sidelines, proud that she had remained unscathed, but it was a lie too. She had been fooling herself that she was really living.

  She loaded the dishwasher and glanced at the time on the oven. It wasn’t that late.

  Not questioning the pull, the deep yearning, she quickly put her coat and hat on and walked out the back door into the night.

  * * *

  Wyatt opened his front door, grateful that Sam was sleeping over at his aunt’s house that night for their yearly girls’ shopping and bonding trip. The timing couldn’t be better, because it would get her mind off Charlotte. Unintentionally, it had worked out perfectly for him too, because he couldn’t see his daughter right now. He needed to be alone and decompress for a little bit. Thank God he was officially on vacation because he needed it.

  There were days when he loved his job with everything he had, when he made a difference in someone’s life, and then there were days that made him want to hand in his badge. Usually on those days, he didn’t come home straightaway if Sam would be here, because he’d need to detox and get his head screwed on straight first. Tonight was one of those nights. He didn’t bother taking off his jacket or boots; he headed straight for his liquor cabinet and poured himself a double shot of scotch and then marched out to the back deck. He swung back a healthy dose and then took a deep breath, the cold air a blistering contrast to the heat of the alcohol in his mouth.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the snow-lined wood railing with one gloved hand. One of his most detested parts of his job were things involving some kind of crime against a woman or a child. As a father, as a nephew, as a son, as a decent man in general, it made it hard for him to stay professional and to keep his heart out of it. But as a victim and witness of abuse, it made it damn near impossible to not take an involuntary trip down memory lane.

  When Mary Beth Chalmers’s son called 911 tonight, Wyatt had already known it was going to be a grim situation. He’d been going to that house for years and, just like always, Mary Beth refused to leave her husband. Even when he knocked her down the stairs unconscious and her kid had to witness it all. That’s when it made it very hard for him to just be a man in uniform. That’s when he just wanted to be a friend, when he wanted to beat the shit out of her husband, and take her and her little boy and put them in a shelter for women and kids. He wanted to tell that little boy to stay strong, that one day he would grow up and he didn’t have to be the kind of man his father was. He swung back the rest of whiskey and hung his head back, staring at the sky. There were some nights he stayed awake worrying about all the things that could happen to Sam; he would go through all the what-if scenarios, and he’d wish he could just keep her safe.

  As much as the whole sarcastic, preteen thing drove him nuts, a part of him liked Sam’s sarcasm—it showed that she wasn’t afraid of him. He would have never even dreamed of speaking to his dad like that without risking a brutally violent reaction. He was proud, knowing that even if he was screwing up at this parenting thing, at the very least he’d done better than his parents. His daughter knew that when he raised a hand, it was for a hug, never for violence.

  He stared up at the sky. There were days and nights he searched for signs, signs that there was more. Up until a couple of weeks ago, the world he knew was filled with lonely people and messed-up lives, and sometimes it was pretty damn lonely to be raising a girl alone. Sometimes it was too damn hard to always be strong, to always have his shit together, to always be brave. He had gotten over his childhood, the crap that he’d been through, but nights like tonight brought it all out in a blizzard of haphazard memories he’d rather avoid. Tonight he identified with that little boy more than his parents.

  He wished he was a man who could just believe in something so much greater and more powerful than him, but there were days … there were days he looked for it and came up empty. There were so many lonely days and nights where he wished he had a partner to talk it out with. Like Charlotte.

  “Wyatt?”

  Her voice cut through the night air and through the stillness of the night. She was here. Unplanned. Like she somehow knew. She had always been that light in the darkness for him. He couldn’t turn her away. He could never reject Charlotte. He turned around, somewhere in his gut knowing that she was the last woman he wanted to see in this condition, but she was also the only woman, the only person, he wanted to see.

  She was standing there in that cute red hat with the pom-pom and the cranberry-colored coat and matching lipstick, and he wanted nothing more than to walk over and kiss her until neither one of them could remember the way the world had screwed them over, until all they were in the moment was more than enough.

  He stood still, not knowing what to do with his emotions, not wanting to tell her to go away, but not having the words for polite conversation. But she was here at this hour of the night for a reason. He didn’t want to hope. Hope was for fools. He held her gaze, her beautiful face illuminated by the moon. The uncertainty in her eyes changed to something else as her gaze flickered over to him and she took a step forward.

  “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

  He gave her a nod, not knowing if he’d be able to speak without telling her what was really on his mind. But he didn’t want to scare her off, he didn’t want to jeopardize this friendship they were building. He knew she had her own baggage and her own insecurities, and the last thing he wanted to be was a man who reminded her of a father who couldn’t keep his shit together and fell apart.

  He wanted to show her that he was strong, that he could hold it all together for the people he loved. This was just a bad day and nothing more. He didn’t want to lose the first woman to ever make him wish for miracles and happily-ever-afters. He cleared his throat and looked down. “Fine. Just a long day,” he finally managed to force out, cringing because his voice sounded rough.

  Charlotte walked toward him, silent, her gaze locked onto his, until she was maybe an inch or two from him, and it felt like she had always been within an inch or two of him. Charlotte had always been there, just slightly beyond his reach.

  He didn’t know if he had the words he thought she needed to hear, or if he’d ruin the moment by speaking, but somewhere in his gut he knew that Charlotte needed more than the little he had left tonight.

  “It’s pretty late,” he said, wanting to know if it was there, hidden under all those gorgeous layers of vulnerability and kindness. He wanted to know if that pull that he felt existed inside her too, or if he was just delusional, dreaming about a woman who didn’t feel the same way.

  She crossed her arms and looked down, kicking at a tuft of snow. “My mom and grandmother got into a fight and it was just … it was old family stuff and I didn’t want to deal with it, you know? Whenever I’m here … with you … I can forget all of it. I just wanted to see you. Just like I used to look forward to seeing you every morning before school.”

  And there it was, that honesty she’d always given him, when she trusted him back then. Wyatt stood motionless, conflicting emotions tangling their way through his body as he processed Charlotte’s words. Laced ever so gently throughout her voice was an honesty that touched him and reached the part of him that no one ever had. Charlotte made him want things—things he’d told himself and everyone around him he didn’t want. But it wasn’t just a woman he wanted, or just a mom for his daughter, it was Charlotte. He wanted her. Physically, emotionally.

  His throat felt raw, tight, but he needed to tell her how much she meant to him. “It was the same for me. You were the same for me. You were sunshine. Your smile would lift me out of the hell I was
living in, Charlotte. And now … now you’re here on a dark day, and you’re this ray of light. Again. I don’t know how it happened, how we found each other again, but I know in my gut that you and I have never been a coincidence.”

  She ran her teeth across her lower lip, her eyes glistening. The image of him, gently pulling, tugging on that lip with his own mouth crossed his mind, and he pushed aside the thought. In that half second, he reached for her and she walked right into his arms. Her soft curves pressed against his body and she held onto him like she couldn’t let go, and he let the emotion reach the part of himself that he kept locked away.

  He brushed his lips across the top of her head, because he wanted, needed more. He didn’t know if he could still pretend that he was fine with just friendship. She slowly pulled her head from his chest but didn’t pull away from him. Instead, she leaned back and stared up at him, those blue eyes filled with the same hunger he felt, and that was all he needed. Maybe she was all he needed to get out of the place he was sitting in right now, that hell between work and real life. Maybe she was the one who could bring him right back home, like she had always done, like he’d done for her.

  “I missed you so damn much,” he whispered roughly, his hands gently framing her face before he leaned down to finally kiss Charlotte.

  Maybe he’d waited a lifetime for her, for this moment. Charlotte’s soft lips opened under his and he kissed her, unable to get enough of her, unable to remember all the reasons they were supposed to not be doing this. But this was Charlotte, the girl that had reached him when no one else could, the last good memory of his childhood. Now she was here, in his arms, filling him with a desire he’d never experienced.

  He left his one hand on the side of her face while the other traced the curves on the side of her body, and she made a sound that seemed to reverberate through all his nerve endings. Her hands went inside his jacket and found his waist, scrunching a bunch of his shirt in her hand. He kissed the impossibly soft, fragrant skin below her ear and tucked her into his body as he felt her knees wobble. “I missed you so damn much,” he said as he trailed kisses under her ear to her jaw line.