The Christmas Compromise

by Susan Hatler

  She smoothed a set of crystal icicles on the tree and sniffed. “I’m worried about you.”

  Okay, I hadn’t expected that one. “Why?”

  “You’re not acting like the Morgan I know.” She turned to me and I could see the worry in her eyes. “I love Christmas. I enjoyed that cruise last year but, well, Miami isn’t home. Is it? I’d hoped you’d come home this year. And you did. But you didn’t want to see me.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you.” I stepped toward her, tears threatening to choke me. “One of the reasons I returned home was because I missed you and Dad and Connor. I’ve wanted to come back for years, but I didn’t want to work at the bank. I want this,” I said, gesturing around me, which didn’t look all that impressive. “Well, not in its current state. But the salon will be amazing when I’m done with it.”

  Her hands flew to her hips. “Morgan Reed, you simply cannot open and run a beauty salon. Think of your education. What a waste. How would you use it?”

  Okay, that was more the reaction I’d expected.

  “To run a profitable business,” I retorted. “To make sure I increase my savings, so I can buy a home. I can think of a thousand ways to use my degree practically in life.”

  She blew out a breath and patted her cheeks, obviously trying to compose herself. Then she got distracted by something over my shoulder. Suddenly, she knelt and tugged at the green felt at the base of the tree to hide the small inch of metal holder exposed. “It’s not just that you lied about how you spent your inheritance. Although that does trouble me. You’re using the funds for something that your grandparents never intended. The trust was set up for your education. If you stop this madness, your dad could probably reinvest whatever you have left and help you recoup your losses. I think that’s the best idea.”

  My fists balled at my sides. “Grandma and Grandpa never put a single stipulation on what Connor and I could do with our trusts. I’m opening this salon and I’m going to be a beautician.” The words roared out of my mouth, shattering the hush that had gathered in the store.

  Mom twisted her fingers together. “I know you think this is what you want, but the bank would be so much better for you. You’d have a stable career there. You spent four years at the university learning what you’d need to be successful at the bank. You’d be working with your father, and helping to maintain this family’s legacy. I’m sure you want that.”

  I took three fiery breaths, so I wouldn’t explode. “No, I don’t want that. You’re not even listening to me. I have the right to live my life in a way that will make me happy. You think you know what’s best for me, but I don’t want to work at the bank and I won’t. Ever.”

  Her mouth opened in a shocked expression and an apology flew to my lips, but I held it back. I didn’t want to hurt her, or disappoint her, but at some point I had to live my life. I’d been miserable for so long. Now that I’d figured out how happy I could be, there was no way I wanted to lose that or my soul would shrivel up and die.

  She held her palms up in that stop gesture I’d known my entire life. “How can you say these things to me? You’ve always wanted to work in the bank. Ever since you were young you wanted that.”

  I shook my head. “I always wanted to be a cosmetologist. Don’t you remember how I used to play with dolls? I used to cut their hair, or curl it, or paint their nails, and I’d sneak your makeup to put it on them.”

  Her face went the same color as curdled milk. “This rebellion of yours, or whatever it is, just needs to stop. Connor works at the bank. Grace would’ve worked at the bank. You will work at the bank like your brother and sister.”

  Everything inside me crumbled. Her words about how Grace would’ve worked in the bank knocked me like a punch to my gut. Right behind that hurt came that heavy mantle of guilt. Guilt that I’d lived and that she had died. That I couldn’t measure up. That I didn’t know how to be the daughter she would’ve been.

  The feeling of guilt was so complex and multi-layered and it hit me then that that guilt was the real reason I’d stayed in Miami for so long. Nobody there knew about my sister. Nobody had ever known my sister and had no way to compare me to her.

  That guilt and the hurt and the anger that always ran below those things made me snap, “Why can’t you ever see me? Why do you always have to see Grace in everything that I do?”

  Mom licked her lips. Her hand came up and patted at her hair. “I see you’re too upset to talk about this now and I am as well. We’re having dinner at the club tomorrow night. Your father, Connor, and I will be there. It’s our usual dinner night. It would be nice if you would attend so that we could discuss this in a more civilized manner as a family.”

  In other words, be there. Or else. There was no way to say no to such a guilt-heavy thing. I knew it and she knew that I knew it. It was Ivy Reed’s classic mom calling card. I sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  Mom nodded briskly. “Good. Seven o’clock sharp.”

  “I’ll be there at seven,” I said, sighing again. Okay, I’d kept things from her, which wasn’t nice. But when had I ever not been punctual?

  Her expression softened. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  Even though I felt like a truck had run over me, I forced a weak smile. “I love you, too.”

  She did love me. But she had loved Grace more.

  “Good night then.” She left and I turned to stare at the tree. Tears blurred my vision again and this time I let those tears slide down my cheeks.

  Of course the tree looked fabulous the way my mom had rearranged it. Christmas was my mom’s favorite holiday and she’d always saved decorating the tree for last because she took so much real pleasure in it. The only activity she loved more was setting the table. She approached both decorating the tree and those table settings with the same eye to beauty and elegance and it showed at that moment.

  Past the Christmas tree the streetlights glowed and I could see that they’d set up the booth where Santa would sit to listen to kids whisper their Christmas wishes. Back when I’d been small I’d always asked for the same thing every year. For Santa to bring my sister back, so my mom wouldn’t be sad anymore. So she would have the daughter she really wanted and then I could walk my own path instead of attempting to fill Grace’s shoes.

  Shoes I’d never be able to fill if I tried for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Eleven

  Late the next day, Dallas and I strolled away from downtown and up the stairs to The Sharing Tree that stood next to Kissing Bench beside the Falls. The Sharing Tree had been there for as long as I could remember, a tall tree with a wide body furred with green needles and long green branches, which were the perfect length for decorating.

  And the town did decorate The Sharing Tree, every single year. The whole town got together and turned that tree into a kind of Christmas Mountain mascot, looking like a gloriously bedecked creation that screamed Christmas cheer and joy. Couples would hang ornaments to pledge their love and others would also hang ornaments in remembrance of a loved one.

  There was nobody else there at the moment, though. Dallas and I stood beside the tree on that cold windy Saturday afternoon, watching the tree’s branches flutter and listening to the melodic notes of the ornaments jingling, a counterpoint to the rushing sound of the Falls.

  “You ready?” Dallas asked, slipping his arm around me.

  “Yes.” I nodded and looked down at the angel ornament I held, which I planned to put on the tree. The angel had dark hair, blue eyes, and a rose mouth, reminding me of my big sister.

  Every year after Grace had died, I’d hung an angel in remembrance of her. Usually, I’d buy an angel ornament while shopping downtown. This year, I’d painted my own angel for her at Ruby’s townhome. The family dinner at the country club tonight loomed over my head and that argument with my mom clouded everything between Dallas and me.

  “Watch your step,” he said, his hand settling below my arm to steady me as I wobbled. “It’s sl
ick here. There’s dew on the rocks which has frozen.”

  His words stopped me in my tracks, stirring something from my memory. It had been slick the day of Grace’s accident. I hadn’t watched my step. Every muscle in my body went rigid and I found myself reliving that awful accident in my mind.

  Grace had been the oldest child in our family, a few years ahead of Connor. Mom had put her in charge of us that afternoon when we invited Ruby and Dallas over to play. But it had been Dallas who’d talked us into leaving the house when we were supposed to stay home. He’d suggested we go for a nature walk, and where better to go than the Falls?

  I gulped as the memories flooded into my head. I hadn’t been watching where I’d been skipping on that nature walk, just followed the others merrily as we hiked up the back of the Falls. I’d been having such fun with Ruby and Grace and Connor. Plus, my eyes had been glued on Dallas, who I’d had the beginnings of a crush on even at seven.

  I was so close to the edge of the cliff as we went and should’ve been paying attention to where I was walking. But I’d flapped about and slipped on the slick granite beneath my feet.

  My stomach dropped as I started falling over the edge. . . .

  “Morgan?” Dallas asked, jerking me back to the present. I could hear the Falls crashing beside us with its gentle roar. He slipped his hand around mine and squeezed. “You okay?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied, but I did know. I wasn’t all right. Not even close. How could I be? I’d lived with this guilt for so long now—from what I’d never told another soul.

  “You’re thinking about Grace.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Yes.” I nodded, but it was more than that. My lips trembled. Everything in my childhood up to that point had been golden and rosy. I’d never told anyone the truth about why everything had changed. But staring into his gentle caramel-brown eyes, I knew it was time to be honest. “The accident was my fault. Grace died because of me.”

  “What are you talking about?” he said, softly.

  “I-I should’ve been more careful that day.” My vision blurred. I closed my eyes, transporting myself back in time as a hot tear slid down my cheek. “I slipped, Dallas. I started falling backward. I would’ve gone over the cliff. It all happened so fast. But I can still feel Grace’s hand on my arm, yanking me back toward safety. And when I turned around she wasn’t behind me anymore. She’d gone over the edge.”

  His gaze held mine, but there was no blame in them.

  “If I’d been watching where I was going then Grace would still be alive,” I said, trying to make him understand. After finally admitting that aloud, the weight of my guilt lifted off my shoulders, replaced by a sorrow so strong that it threatened to crush me. My knees buckled. “She’d still be alive.”

  I dropped down onto the cement and sobs escaped in loud racking bursts. A gaping hole burst through my chest, leaving me open and vulnerable. Grace had died saving me, because I hadn’t been careful. It was my fault. In the depth of my pain, warm hands cupped my cheeks.

  “Listen to me.” Dallas’s voice was gentle, but firm as he lifted my face to his. “You told me that accident with my uncle wasn’t my fault and I had to let it go—”

  “This is different,” I snapped, staring at him. Didn’t he get that this was different? I swallowed hard, fighting for breath. “If I’d been paying attention then Grace wouldn’t have died.”

  “If I’d set my alarm then my uncle wouldn’t have suffered that injury.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t know that. There are too many variables. The accident could’ve happened anyway . . .” My voice trailed off as my own words hit me.

  “Is there anything you wouldn’t have done to save her?” he whispered, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.

  “No,” I said, my voice coming out in a hiccup, before my breathing started to slow down.

  “Me, either.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “You have to let go of the guilt. We both do.”

  I laced my arms around him, burying my nose into his neck. I breathed in slowly. He smelled like lumber. His scent made me feel warm and safe, like I wasn’t alone. We were a team.

  “My mom blames you for Grace’s death.” I murmured, letting him pull me closer against his firm chest.

  “I know.” He pulled back and sighed. “Many times I’ve felt that way, too. If I hadn’t suggested the nature walk—”

  “We all wanted to go,” I said, sniffling and rubbing my nose. “Grace did, too. You were always the fun one in our group.” A smile came to my lips. Then out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a couple coming up the stairs. Dallas stood, pulling me up with him. A minute later, they passed by us and took a seat on Kissing Bench, cuddling and looking very much in love. So sweet. After talking with Dallas, I felt lighter, but drained. And the day wasn’t over yet. “I’m having dinner at the club with the parents tonight.”

  He smirked. “I hear the food’s good there.”

  I shot him a sidelong glance. “Is that an idle comment or are you hoping to come along?”

  “I’m just saying.” His grin became wide and toothy. He lifted my hand, swinging it back and forth. “And no way am I going to that dinner without a proper invitation. Your mom scares me. And I was in the Marines, so that’s saying something.”

  My smile was rueful. “Yeah, she can be scary. I feel like she doesn’t mean to be, though. She only wants to . . . control everything and everyone.” I laughed, bitterly. “But it comes from a good place. She thinks she’s doing what’s best.”

  “After what happened with Grace, I shouldn’t have done so much crazy stuff with Connor. She was probably scared I’d get another one of her kids killed.” His hand rested on my shoulder, the touch light but very much there. “Even if your mom has some faults, at least she’s still there for you.”

  His words gave me a chill. “You’re right. I can’t imagine what it would be like not to have a mother,” I said, softly.

  He glanced away, looking at The Sharing Tree and wearing a pained expression. His shoulders lifted and dropped like he wanted to shrug that comment off. “She left a hole that can never be filled.”

  “I’m sorry, Dallas.” I shook my head. My sister’s death had left a hole in our lives, too, but she hadn’t chosen to leave us. I couldn’t imagine the hole his mom had created. “I’m sure your mom had problems. But I wish she’d made a different choice—for your sake and for hers. She missed out being with you, too.”

  “My mom loved Christmas.” He gestured to The Sharing Tree. “She’d decorate this tree and the one at home. Every year, she’d buy gingerbread houses and we’d put them together. My dad would eat the roofs and steal the icing, acting like a kid.” He chuckled at the memory. “Once, he ate a gingerbread bridge made from plastic.”

  My hand flew to my mouth. “How did that work out?”

  “After the trip to the emergency room or before?” He grinned, showing merriment at first and then his smile faded. He tucked a piece of my stray hair behind my ear. “I miss those times.”

  “It’s weird how life goes on.” I took in his sad expression, my mind moving back to Grace. “It seems like everyone has forgotten that Grace died on the other side of the Falls. Sometimes I wish there was some kind of marker to let people know she’d been there. I visit her gravesite sometimes, but I’d rather think of her in a place where she’d been alive.”

  He turned away from me, looking up toward the top of the Falls. “I could build a bench and put it back there, so you could go and sit anytime you want.”

  I blinked at him. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Yes,” he said, his eyebrows coming together in a way that said that shouldn’t even be a question. “I’d even sit there with you.”

  I threw my arms around him in an impulsive hug, and pressed my cheek to his chest. We stayed that way in each other’s arms for a long time. Then my eyes drifted to the bench that the couple just vacated. I thought of the night he’d punched my boy
friend and still wondered what that had been about. I opened my mouth to ask him—

  Before I could speak, he kissed me.

  The kiss caught me off guard and took my breath way. My hands pressed against his chest as I kissed him back. The steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath his shirt and coat felt reassuring. I forgot about that night with Tom and the question I’d been about to ask, especially as our kiss turned heated, warming me and keeping the late afternoon chill at bay.

  We finally broke apart. I smiled up at him. His mouth curved upward in return.

  “I’m ready to hang this angel ornament for Grace.” I looked down at the small angel still in my grip. “When I do this, it makes me feel like an angel is watching over my sister. Maybe the angel will watch over your mom, too, wherever she is.”

  “You have the biggest heart I know,” he said, the tender expression in his eyes making me melt. He smiled as his fingers closed over mine.

  Then we reached forward together, hanging the sweet angel on the highest limb we could reach. When I looked up at her, I could almost feel her smiling.

  Chapter Twelve

  The country club sat on a high rise of hill, tucked back among acres of pine and old fir trees. The building, low and rambling, had been built to blend in with nature and so the cedar siding and shingles made it seem like the place had grown up on that spot.

  All of the windows sent out a warm amber light, there were small twinkling lights along the roofline, and the pine trees that lined the driveway had been decorated for Christmas. The white lights and bright star toppers glowed and would’ve made me smile if it weren’t for my major uneasiness about how this “family” dinner would go.

  I parked my car, hopped out, and hurried along the low ledge of sidewalk that fronted the building since I was running a little late. Oops! A red-and-black uniformed doorman opened the door and ushered me in with a smile. As I walked in, a rush of warm air hit me along with the lovely sound of “Silver Bells” playing softly from the speakers.