She flashed back to a similar scene. A girl, older than Mia, but still in love with Christmas, begging her father to sing along with carollers who’d come to their door. Her heart breaking when he shut the door in their faces, abandoning her in favour of watching something boring on the television.
History would not be repeated.
She took hold of one of Mia’s hands and began swishing it back and forth in time with the music. Callan made to back away. Josie caught his hand before he could and drew him into their circle.
‘Uh-uh. We’re sticking together, remember?’ She raised her brows and threw him a look of mock-disapproval.
With a laugh, he slipped his hand into Mia’s outstretched one and the three began spinning around faster and faster until the world around them was a blur.
She should have broken her hold right then and there. Begged off with some excuse. Headache. Tiredness. An unsettled tummy from sampling too much of her baking that day. Left the two of them to make a beautiful memory together. Instead she followed Callan’s example and tipped her head back to the shining stars and let the music envelop her, lead her, weave its cheery magic.
With great gusto, Margo bellowed the final line into the microphone, joined by the rest of the people in the square, and the song finished.
Josie waited for Callan to drop her hand. Instead he held fast as they puffed and panted and tried to get their breath back. He didn’t let go even when the Christmas tree’s lights were switched on and the rest of the town broke out into a raucous round of applause that had them stamping their feet and clapping their hands above their head.
Callan’s eyes locked on Josie. A mixture of emotions she couldn’t put her finger on raced through his eyes in those seconds. Surprise. Confusion. Happiness. And what looked like desire, but surely was not.
Except maybe it was, because in that moment as they stared at each other, unable to break away, her senses went into high alert, sending a ripple of goose bumps all over her body. Her heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with the dancing. And her soul brightened, like for the first time ever the world made sense.
She was where she was meant to be. There was no need to leave. She’d found her home.
All she had to do was the one thing she’d never been able to do her entire adult life.
Stay.
Chapter 10
Callan ran through his shopping list one more time:
Sparkly unicorn soft toy.
Pony with blue body and rainbow hair.
Slime. That must be pink. And glittery.
Strange plastic animal that attaches to your finger and responds to touch and voice commands.
And a Cinderella dress with shoes and a crown as Mia’s gift from Santa.
He glanced over at Josie who had offered to drive them to Broadway so they could get their Christmas shopping done. Her hands were relaxed on the wheel, a small smile lifted her cheekbones high, and every now and then she hummed the final line of ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’.
‘I do believe, Miss Donnelly, that the Christmas spirit may have done a number on you.’
Josie glanced over at him, her eyes twinkling. ‘I know. I can’t believe it. I’m in shock. There’s a chance I might actually become a Christmas person.’ She paused, pressing her lips together. ‘Will you think less of me if I do?’
Callan snorted. Couldn’t help himself. As if he could dislike someone who had in the space of a fortnight filled his life with more laughter and happiness than he’d felt in all the months since Abigail had passed.
What surprised him more was that he didn’t feel guilty about it. Even after experiencing what he could only call ‘a moment’ with Josie the night of the Christmas tree lighting.
Specifically, the moment when the final song had ended and the three of them had continued to hold hands as he and Josie had faced each other, her eyes as bright and alive as he felt, and … connected.
That was the only word for it.
Something unspoken – something he couldn’t quite get a handle on – had passed between them. And it didn’t scare him or make him feel like he was betraying Abigail’s memory.
Since that night, Callan had wrestled with his feelings towards Josie for hours, trying to make sense of them.
With Josie there was none of the heart-racing anticipation he’d experienced when he’d met Abigail. With Abigail he’d had to force himself to not text her, or call her, or email her constantly. When he and Abigail had gone on dates it had been pure hurricane-force attraction. The possibilities that their relationship could bring, the chance of a life so different from what he’d grown up in, fuelling his desire. His life with her had been so new, so fresh, exciting and vibrant. He’d fallen hard and fast, and by the end of their first date he’d known that she was the one.
The only.
Which meant … despite the warmth, the happiness she brought him, Josie could only be a friend. Even if he did find her attractive. Enjoyed her company. Didn’t hate holding hands or linking arms with her.
Even if, in that moment as they’d held each other’s gaze, the heaviness in his heart had lifted, and pure joy had raced through him, filling him with a joie de vivre he’d thought well and truly gone.
‘Really? You’re seriously considering hating me for warming to this season your village has inflicted upon me?’ Josie shook her head slowly back and forth, her mouth opened as long as her eyes were wide in shock. ‘Consider me stunned.’
Callan shook himself free of his ponderings and brought himself back to the present. ‘Sorry, Josie. I was away with the fairies for a second there. Of course I’m not considering holding this newfound enjoyment of Christmas against you. In fact, I’m considering joining you. The other night was fun, wasn’t it? I never thought it could be again.’
Josie tapped the brake, slowing the car down as the shops drew near. Her eyes darted back and forth as she searched for a parking space. ‘It really was. I haven’t laughed or danced like that in years. At least, not while one hundred per cent sober.’
Other than being curious about her family situation, Callan hadn’t thought about Josie’s life pre-Sunnycombe. What it had looked like. Where she’d lived. Truth be told, he’d not had any reason to. Now? He wanted to know. Needed to.
‘Did you go out a lot? Before moving to Sunnycombe?’ He indicated to her left. ‘There’s a space just up there.’
‘Fab. Thanks.’ Josie pulled over and parallel parked in one fluid move. ‘A little bit. I wasn’t a huge party girl or anything like that. But I’d go out with workmates on occasion. Mostly kept myself to myself, to be honest.’ She released the seatbelt and stepped out of the car.
Callan shut the car door behind him and waited for Josie to make her way to the pavement. ‘And why would you do that? You’re young. Fun. I’d have thought you’d be out socialising most nights? Going on dates, and things like that …’
Josie fiddled with the strap of her tote bag. ‘You make it sound like you’re a hundred years old and I’m a youngster in comparison. You can’t be much older than me?’
‘Just gone 31.’ Callan had a feeling Josie was about to steer the subject away from herself. ‘And before you switch the subject around to me and my lack of socialising, I’ll have you know I used to be very social. It was only after Abigail passed that I began to stay home. I wanted to be there for Mia. Wanted to make sure she felt secure, happy, safe in the knowledge that she wasn’t going to be left by me.’
‘I know I said it the other night, but I want you to know I mean it. You’re a really good dad. Mia’s lucky to have you.’
Josie’s voice was quieter than usual, like she was holding something back. An emotion she didn’t want to acknowledge. Or feel.
‘It must’ve been hard having your mother leave. Were you very young?’
Josie nodded. ‘I was 12. So not super young, but young enough.’ Her jaw tightened. Her chest rose and held.
Callan instinctively knew to tre
ad carefully if he wanted to know more. ‘So your father brought you up?’
‘He did. By himself. Like you, there wasn’t family around to help out.’
Muffled chatter and the warm glow of a well-lit café caught Callan’s attention. A hot drink in a cosy place might be a good way to get Josie to open up. To share her past with him. To relieve the tension that had her shoulders all but touching her earlobes.
‘Do you want to pop in there? Have a cup of tea or coffee?’
Josie shook her head. ‘No, I’d rather keep walking and get the shopping done, if that’s all right with you.’
He wasn’t surprised she’d declined, but he was surprised at how his heart stuttered a little at the rejection. Even though he knew it wasn’t directed at him, it was just Josie’s way of not having to reveal more about herself.
Still, it stung. And not in a ‘friend said no’ way, either. More in a ‘woman I’m interested in doesn’t want to spend time with me’ way.
Callan shoved his hands in his coat pocket. What was going on with him? Was this part of the healing process? Part of moving on? He made a mental note to look it up on the internet later that night.
‘How did your dad handle your mum leaving?’
Josie shrugged. ‘As you’d expect. Not well.’
It was like getting blood out of a stone, but Josie could stonewall him all she wanted, Callan wasn’t giving up.
‘He must’ve been hurt. Angry.’ He pointed out the toy store. A spacious shop filled to the brim with toys for all ages and stages, it was where he and Abigail had come to buy the toys that would furnish Mia’s nursery, and returned every birthday and Christmas since.
‘Yeah well. When your wife walks out without a word on Christmas Eve, you’re going to feel some feelings, aren’t you?’ Josie pushed the door open and walked in without making eye contact.
She didn’t want to show Callan the hurt, the pain she felt after all these years? Fair enough. He could understand that. As much as he’d stayed home the past year for Mia’s sake, he’d also done it for himself. Wanting to avoid looks of pity and well-meaning meaningless advice.
What could he say to a woman who’d been abandoned by her mother, at what was meant to be the happiest time of year, that she hadn’t already heard before?
Nothing. Not a thing.
Except maybe share his experience and hope that by doing so Josie would realise she wasn’t alone. That he was there for her.
Callan followed Josie inside and found her browsing the soft toy section.
‘I’ve come to think, to believe, that when someone you love leaves you, not only at Christmas, but at any time of year, the pain never goes away.’ He picked up a smiling emoji cushion, turned it over in his hands, then set it back down again. ‘I’m proof of that. And I suspect you might be, too.’
Josie picked out a rainbow-coloured kitten with glittering eyes. It purred as she hugged it to herself. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Except the way her thumb was stroking the kitten’s head, while she continued to avoid eye contact told him she did.
Callan resisted the urge to bundle her into his arms, to hold her close, to circle her back with the palm of his hand. To ease the pain she kept so close while she treated her mother’s abandonment like it was nothing.
‘You’re too flippant about it not to care.’ If he couldn’t soothe her with touch, perhaps words would help. ‘You tossed the circumstances of your mother’s leaving out there like it meant nothing, which, to my mind, means it meant a lot.’
‘Mia would love this.’ Josie thrust the kitten in his direction. ‘I saw that unicorn she wanted on a shelf just round the way.’
Callan followed Josie’s stalking form, determined not to let her change the subject or avoid it altogether.
‘If you and Margo can have secret plans to get me out of the house, to pull me from the doldrums, then I think it’s only fair you let me have my say. That you let me talk you through whatever it is you’re holding so tight. Caring isn’t just one-sided. It’s reciprocal. And I care about you, Josie. Especially when I see how much hurt you hide.’
Josie spun round. Her face blanched as her eyes narrowed. Her hands fisted at her sides.
Callan took a step back and raised his hands. He didn’t want her exploding in the shop. He hated the idea of Josie despising him for pushing her too far. ‘Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Truly. Or make you angry. I just want to …’
‘To what?’ Her breath was ragged, harsh, as she pushed the words out. ‘To try and make it better? To get me to move on? I’ve moved on. I’m always moving on. It’s what I do best.’ Josie sucked her lips into her mouth, like she didn’t want the words to tumble out, or like she’d said too much.
‘Ignoring your feelings isn’t the same as moving on.’ Callan fought the urge to tuck his fingertips under Josie’s chin, to bring her lowered gaze up to his so she could see the sincerity of his words in his eyes. ‘I never ignored my feelings after Abigail passed away. If anything I paid too much attention to them. Lost myself in my grief. Until you came along to snap me out of it. To make me realise that there was life after Abigail, one that didn’t revolve around being the perfect father, while doing everything to keep Abigail’s memory alive. Even making the worst baked goods the villagers of Sunnycombe have ever tasted.’
Josie blew out a long shuddering breath. ‘They really were diabolical. I’m surprised you didn’t go out of business.’
‘Sunnycombe’s full of kind people. They’ll bend over backwards for you, if you let them.’ Callan rolled his eyes. ‘Or in my case, even if you won’t let them.’
‘Margo is a force to be reckoned with.’ Josie bent over, picked out a jewellery box and opened it to reveal a plastic ballerina taking centre stage. She twisted the knob at the back once. Tinkly music filled the space between them. ‘I’ll get this for Mia. I think she’ll like it.’
‘She’ll love it.’ Callan felt his shoulders relax as the tension between him and Josie simmered down. ‘You don’t have to do that, though.’
A small frown line appeared between Josie’s brows as she looked up at him with serious eyes. ‘But I want to. Just like I want to say sorry for getting so worked up just now. You’re right, I am flippant about my mother leaving. It’s the easiest way to cope. And I’m not used to people pushing me to talk about it. Not used to them caring …’
‘Well, get used to it, because I care.’ Callan plucked the unicorn off the shelf and tucked it under his arm. ‘And when you care about someone you don’t let them flail. You don’t let them fall. And if they do you make sure you’re there to catch them, to save them. Margo taught me that. You did, too. So feel free to tell me to bugger off, but shall we pay for these toys, pick up our gifts for Margo, then go get a hot drink and … I don’t know … talk about it? Get in touch with all those horrid feelings?’
Josie’s furrowed brow deepened. She shivered, like a ghost had walked over her grave. And maybe it had. One that she’d once called ‘Mum’.
Josie’s brow smoothed as her chin tilted in a defiant manner. An action that made Callan sure he was about to hear a ‘no’.
‘You know what, Callan? I think you’re right. I’ve kept myself to myself for too long. And while I don’t think I’ll ever get over my mother leaving me, I do think I probably need to talk about it. But promise me something.’
‘Anything.’
‘Don’t let my story change how you see me. No pity. No feeling sorry for me. And no pats of “you poor dear” on my hand. Deal?’ She narrowed her eyes and waited for his answer.
‘I don’t do pity. I’ve seen enough. So it’s an easy deal to make.’
‘Good.’
Without another word, Josie made her way to the counter and paid for the toy, while chatting amiably with the girl serving. She turned around, bag in hand, and flashed him a brave smile.
Callan’s stomach clenched. His heart skipped. And somewhere, buried de
ep in the back of his mind, he remembered the last time he met a woman who’d made his stomach tighten, and his heart race.
It was time to admit the truth: he could friend-zone Josie all he wanted in his head, but his heart knew better.
He waited for the guilt to hit hard and fast.
Prepared himself for the self-loathing.
There was no guilt. No self-loathing.
There was just hope that spread through him as he realised perhaps there was life after Abigail.
Life, and maybe even a second chance at happiness.
Chapter 11
Josie placed her bags under the table, pulled out the chair opposite Callan, settled into it, and tried not to talk herself out of sharing her past with Callan for the hundredth time in the past few minutes.
She still couldn’t believe she’d agreed to open up. To let him in on her family history. But when he’d pulled out the far-too-good-for-her-own-good point that she had been the one to get involved in his life without his permission first, she knew she had to relent. She was no hypocrite, and knew if she saw fit to poke her nose into his life, then she couldn’t complain when he did the same to her. Especially when his interest came from a good place. All these years of hiding her pain and Callan saw through it so easily. Wanted to see her heal, to move forward with her life. In a way that didn’t mean physically running away.
And who knew? Maybe if she opened up about her past, she could change her future. Stop running. Start staying. Settle in Sunnycombe.
‘Menu?’ Callan offered her a folded piece of cream card that had the café’s name, ‘Home’, emblazoned on it in gold script.
She shook her head. ‘I’m fine. A latte’s all I’m after. Here.’ She reached into her bag to grab her wallet.
‘Oh no, you don’t.’ He waved her offer away. ‘It’s on me. You saved me much head-scratching over what to get Margo. That scarf you picked out for her is perfect. I’d have probably bought her a three-pack of handkerchiefs if left to my own devices.’
‘She’d have loved them.’ Josie dropped her wallet back into her bag and sat back in her chair. ‘You could give her anything and she’d love it. She adores you and Mia. Thinks the world of you.’
The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams Page 10