Second Chance Christmas--A Clean Romance

by Rula Sinara

  She really couldn’t blame Caden. He was dealing with what no child should have to, but at the same time, it was Zuri’s job to give him structure. She stepped into her sister’s shoes the day she died and she was in this for the long haul. If she had given in to the urge to coddle and spoil him out of sympathy, he would have never gone back to school after the funeral. She had to be his rock and source of normalcy. At the same time, she was afraid to be too strict. She didn’t want to screw up and make his depression or mourning any worse than it already was.

  A part of her feared her choice to bring him to meet his father would backfire and make things worse instead of better. Here she was, used to relying on science and facts, yet all she had to go on at the moment was her gut instinct. Her moral compass. Why did life have to be so subjective? The last time she trusted her gut, Damon had rejected her in the worst possible way.

  She yanked her own change of clothes out of her bag and tossed them on the bed closest to the window overlooking the beach, not caring if they wrinkled, then slumped into the wingback chair in the corner of the small room. She had barely slept last night, thinking about coming face-to-face with Damon after so many years. Anticipation anxiety had kept her awake. And now, after the fact, Damon’s reaction down at the beach had her wishing she’d never come to Turtleback. But she knew that was selfish. At least he’d tried to apologize, not that words could erase the past. It wasn’t even just about how he’d crushed her heart in high school anymore. It was also the fact that if her sister had been destined to get cancer and die, then maybe if she’d never gone to prom with Damon she’d have had a freer life than the years she’d spent as a single mother out of high school. Stop thinking like that. It’s wrong. Vera loved Caden. She’d have given her life for him. Zuri would, too. Her mother always said that everything happens for a reason. She wasn’t sure she believed it though. She couldn’t think of a good enough reason for her sister’s life to end so soon.

  The shower stopped running and she could hear faint singing coming from the bathroom. She hadn’t even heard Caden so much as hum since the funeral. Maybe getting out of Boston had been a good idea after all. It could have been that dog down at the beach cheering him up, though she wasn’t sure they could handle getting a puppy back home. She wasn’t a dog person and she’d felt guilty when Caden’s therapist had asked if they had any pets. She’d been told they could be quite therapeutic. Honestly? Dogs made her anxious and she was allergic to cats. Maybe finding out that the man he’d referred to as a cool hero on the beach was his father would make her nephew happy. No pet needed. Maybe it would make the difference between him spiraling into darkness, as his grief counselor had warned, versus pulling through.

  “I hung your clothes on the doorknob,” she called out. The bathroom door cracked open and a hefty cloud of steam filled the room. His hand reached out to grab his stuff.

  “Thanks.” The door closed. He had been irritated when he found out they weren’t staying in a real hotel. She understood that teens liked their own space but he didn’t know that they were here for other reasons and she had to go with what was available in the tiny town and make it work.

  “You might want to turn the vent on,” she called out.

  There was no mistaking he’d obeyed this time. The exhaust fan motor roared to life. It was so loud and grumbly it had to be as old as the place itself. The Turtleback Bed & Breakfast was a two-story, pale yellow cottage on stilts, with a deck off the first floor. Stairs from the deck led visitors down onto a wooden, planked pathway, which in turn took them past tall reeds and short dunes, onto the beach itself. It was charming inside and out, especially with the holiday touches that had been added for the season. Evergreen boughs and lights spiraled along the deck railing and the main entrance was graced with a seaside-themed Christmas wreath and a Santa figure wearing sunglasses and holding a fishing rod.

  The interior was decorated with antique furniture and marine-themed artwork, which the owner—Melanie Biddle—said her late husband had painted. In fact, she had explained that she had opened the house to guests only after his passing, as a way of earning enough income to cover seasonal repairs. And of course, Melanie had a Christmas tree in the main room downstairs. Several photos of her husband and of the two of them together hung proudly on it. The place was warm and homey. Even the bedroom they were renting included seasonal throws and decorative pillows in red and green. A regular hotel wouldn’t have felt like a home away from home for the holidays.

  Zuri wanted desperately to curl up on the matelassé bedspread and nap, but she needed to wash up, change and take Caden over to Damon’s place—the gray, bleak house he’d pointed out from the beach. No holiday lights or decor to brighten it up. Nothing like the colorful homes and shops that made Turtleback the subject of one of the paintings downstairs. He’d insisted that she bring Caden over for dinner, so that they could tell the boy who he really was. Damon’s place would offer them the most privacy and she sort of hoped that maybe having Duck around would help. The therapist must have known a thing or two. The boy and dog seemed to hit it off—a fact that made her feel guilty for resisting the whole pet idea.

  “All yours,” Caden said, finally emerging from the bathroom.

  “Take another shower that long and Mrs. Biddle is going to kick us out or charge us double the rate,” she quipped, gathering her clothes and walking past him.

  “Maybe if I had a cell phone, I could set an alarm, so I don’t lose track of time.”

  “Nice try, but your mom said you’re supposed to get one for your thirteenth birthday.”

  “Everyone in my class already has one. Except Joey, but his was confiscated.”

  “Look at it this way. You can’t have yours confiscated if you don’t have one.”

  “But what if it’s the only thing I put on my Christmas wish list?”

  She gave him a pointed look and he huffed before propping up his pillow and lying on his bed with the copy of The Lord of the Rings she’d given him over the summer. He hadn’t touched it until now. She closed the bathroom door and leaned against it. Pick your battles. He didn’t know that she’d found his Christmas wish list—which Vera had encouraged him to start before she died, thinking it would give him things to look forward to. Zuri came across the list while cleaning. Finding his dad had been the second thing on it.

  Zuri had moved in to her sister’s place last summer to help care for him, since Vera had to spend so much time in treatment. Even when Vera was home, she had been too weak to do much. Zuri hadn’t been snooping when she found the wish list. She’d been trying to pick up enough books and clothes to make the kid’s bedroom less treacherous to navigate.

  His list had broken her down. The first thing written on it had been for his mother to get well. The second had been to find his father. What had killed her was the thick black marker line drawn through number one. He’d given up hope that his mom would live. If a cell phone was truly the only thing he wanted now, it meant that he’d also given up hope of ever finding his father. Or maybe he was so angry at losing his mom that he didn’t want another parent replacing her.

  Zuri knew the power of hope and how devastating the loss of it could be. She’d seen how losing hope had once left Damon depressed and unmotivated when he realized his family was crumbling apart. It had been part of the reason his grades had plummeted and his teachers had sent him to the student assisted tutoring clinic at the school. Teenage and young adult depression, with all the life changes mixed in, could be deep and gouging...and grim. And she was terrified that if her nephew gave up on family, she might lose him, too.

  * * *

  DAMON FIDGETED WITH the buckle on his diver’s watch, then with the collar of his sweatshirt. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he had a son and Vera Habib was dead. He’d been shocked enough when he first got Zuri’s email. Shocked...then excited for a fleeting moment. The sort of excitement
you felt when you reconnected with a friend from the past. But then reality quickly set in. He knew seeing her after how he’d shunned her in front of their peers would be awkward. Then he had assumed, from her mention of a kid, that she’d found someone to start a family with and a strange, wistful feeling hit him. He didn’t do wistful. He had no business feeling let down. No right to wish the past had been different between them. He’d missed their connection. Their friendship. And he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. He’d thought of her a lot after leaving town. She had been his motivation without knowing it. He had become a navy SEAL in order to prove he’d be good enough for his parents and someone else like her someday. That he could live up to expectations and earn respect.

  He sat down and scratched Duck behind the ear, as she lay resting in front of his old cracked leather couch. She raised one eyelid then, satisfied that he seemed all right, closed her eyes again. He snatched one of the rags he kept in a basket dedicated to drool mopping and wiped the floor directly under the corner of her mouth. They’d be here any minute now and keeping up with a Newfoundland’s slobber trails was akin to picking up toys or laundry after a human child. He didn’t usually think twice about it, but he had company on the way. First impressions were everything, especially when seeing Zuri again forced all his high school insecurities to resurface. She was the one person he wanted to show he’d gotten his act together. And then there was Caden. What if the boy ended up being disappointed in who his father was?

  He rubbed the crick in his neck and went to the cottage’s newly renovated galley kitchen to pull out plates and cups. The pizza he’d ordered had already arrived and he was keeping it warm in the oven. Kids liked pizza. Right? He figured it was a safe bet. He also had a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer—the only flavor he ever bought. He remembered that Zuri had never been fond of the flavor, but he didn’t have time to run to the store. They didn’t have to have dessert. He just kind of thought that maybe it was something a kid Caden’s age would want or that ice cream would soften the blow.

  He used to take Lucas out for the treat whenever his brother got a bad grade in school or got in trouble for missing curfew. Going to the ice cream shop down the street from their school in Boston had also been a tradition for celebrations. But Damon wasn’t sure whether Caden would be feeling celebratory once he found out he was standing next to his father—a man who’d missed every milestone in the boy’s life thus far. He’d know soon enough if today was going to be a celebration or a fu—no... Not funeral. He shook the inadvertent word choice from his head.

  He got up and started setting plates out. He had to keep busy. His nerves were on fire and he was overthinking this whole Operation Parenthood.

  Duck jumped up and barked once. The girl had lungs on her, and the sound shook every cell in his body. Or maybe that was adrenaline. They were here.

  He started for the door, then realized he had forgotten to lock up the room next to his and across from the hall bathroom. What if one of them accidentally entered the wrong room in search of the bathroom? He wasn’t used to visitors. He let out a breath. Everything that had happened today had him thrown off. He needed to keep his wits about him. He swore at himself and hurried to the room, reached in and clicked the lock on the knob before pulling it shut and jogged back to the front door. He paused for a brief second to gather himself. It’s all good. They’re not going to find out who you really are. At least not yet. Just open the front door before they think you’re not home and leave, you idiot.

  “Back.” Duck obeyed, giving him some clearance in the narrow entryway, but she kept wagging her tail. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one anxious to see Zuri and Caden again.

  He opened the door and gave them a casual I’m-in-control-and-unfazed welcome. A sort of cross between the way he and his teammates used to psych themselves before a military op and a beach bum attitude. Zuri, standing there looking effortlessly beautiful, and Caden, looking up at him as though he’d met a superhero, tore at him. He was an imposter. Anything but a hero. Townsfolk and tourists using the term had no idea how uncomfortable it made him. He’d seen that same look in their eyes before.

  “Hey. Come on in.” He didn’t sound as casual as he’d hoped but they didn’t seem to notice. He stepped aside and Caden went straight for Duck, oblivious to the rest of the place. The kid had his priorities.

  “Hey,” Zuri said. She entered but stayed within a few feet of the door, clutching an oversize canvas purse. Her brow furrowed as she looked around.

  “You don’t have to stay by the door. Make yourself comfortable,” he said, waving her into the living room area. Her cheeks flushed and she smoothed out her sweater. She looked anything but comfortable, but she gave a small, quick smile, set her bag on the wooden console and moved cautiously to where Duck and Caden sat in the middle of a dark red afghan rug patterned in traditional geometric designs. He’d gotten it during one of his deployments.

  “This place is nice.”

  “Surprised? You thought the place would be a mess. Didn’t you?” he asked. He hadn’t been the neatest person during high school. In fact, she had helped him find lost assignments crumpled in the bottom of his backpack multiple times.

  “No. I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to,” he said, picking up one of Duck’s fake bones and tossing it in her toy basket. He knew the beach cottage still needed a lot of work on the outside. He had been investing his time and effort on renovating it inside first. When he bought the place, he had planned on updating and making it livable before trying to keep up with the beating the homes along the Outer Banks endured from the weather. The outside had been in solid enough shape—no leaks or anything like that—and he wasn’t as concerned with curb appeal as he was with the heart of the place. He couldn’t see the outside when he spent evenings with his dog on the inside. Besides, he liked the fact that the drab exterior didn’t draw attention during tourist season. And looks could be deceiving. His mother had always kept a tidy front yard and home, yet life inside had never been comfortable.

  “It’s very nice, Damon. Very...neat.”

  “Why don’t you have any Christmas decorations up?” Caden asked.

  “Caden!” Zuri shot her nephew a look, though Damon was pretty sure the boy was saying exactly what she’d really meant by “neat.”

  “Nah, it’s fine,” Damon said, laying his hand on her shoulder to guide her past the dog and to the armchair. He did it without thinking. He thought she wasn’t sitting because Duck was blocking her way. He intended the gesture as reassurance, but she sucked in a soft breath at the contact and he quickly pulled away. He cleared his throat and went over to scratch Duck behind the ears with Caden. “I just haven’t gotten around to decorating yet,” he lied. He hadn’t planned on it. And Christmas was just over a week away. Not that he ever went all out with his place. He was usually too busy with work or renovating. And then there was Duck. Last year, she knocked the tree at the ocean patrol office down twice. But she had still been in training back then.

  “Sorry if I was rude,” Caden said. His brow furrowed, and he nibbled at his lip. The poor kid embarrassed too easily.

  “Like I said, no big deal. You hungry? I ordered pizza. I hope that’s okay. If not, the restaurant on the boardwalk makes good fries and grilled fish. I assumed here would be better for—” Zuri glanced worriedly in Caden’s direction when the boy looked up. She widened her eyes at Damon. “I mean better so that Duck can hang out with us,” Damon clarified, before the boy could ask why. “She and restaurants don’t mesh well together. Trust me on that.” Zuri’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. “You don’t have allergies, do you?” Damon asked his son. He should have thought of that. Most parents would have known to ask.

  “Oh. No, not to food. Dogs, I’m not sure. He’s never owned one.”

  Caden gave his aunt an annoyed look. “I’ve been doing just fine.”


  Damon reached in the woven toy basket by the couch and pulled out a thick red-and-white rope with a rubber ball attached to the end. Duck’s favorite toy. He tossed it to Caden.

  “She’s the biggest dog I’ve ever petted,” Caden said. “I wish I had a dog.”

  Damon and Zuri exchanged glances. Technically, he now had one. He just didn’t know it.

  “You can play with Duck all you want while you’re here. Except when she’s training or on duty, of course,” he said.

  “Cool. Nix the cell phone idea, Aunt Zuri. I want one of these for Christmas. Will she ever have puppies?”

  “Not anymore. She’s been spayed. I adopted her almost a year ago. She had been abandoned and someone found her with her litter of puppies. Our town veterinarian stepped in and helped get them adopted. In fact, one, Shamu, now belongs to one of our police officers—and Duck came to live with me. She had been found in the town of Duck, but I named her because of her affinity for water. Not the town. Actually, it’s really ‘Mother Duck’ because of all her pups, but everyone calls her Duck for short.”

  He was rambling. The boy asked about puppies and he was getting the dog’s full medical history. What’s wrong with you, Damon? Since when do you get nerves? He rubbed his palms together and rocked on his heels. Caden was so preoccupied with Duck he’d probably tuned out half of what Damon had said.

  “That’s sad that someone abandoned her,” Zuri said, eyeing Caden on the floor. She sucked in the corner of her lip.

  At least Zuri didn’t seem to think he was talking too much. Maybe she had a heart for dogs after all.

  “I promise she won’t bite, Zuri.” He hadn’t forgotten the story she told him once about how a dog had bitten her when she was a kid. A bite that had left a scar on her ankle. But that dog hadn’t been trained and everyone in their neighborhood knew his owner didn’t deserve to keep animals. “She’s a gentle giant. You can pet her if you want. I mean, look at how good she is with Caden,” Damon said.