Bess snatched the pages from his hands. “I hope you feel better now. Because I sure don’t!” she fumed.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I wasn’t trying to upset you.”
“Then what was the point of that humiliating recitation?” She slapped the papers in her desk drawer and slammed it shut, appearing ready to both scream in outrage and burst into sobs simultaneously.
Guilt flowed through him. “The point was to get you to talk to me.” He rose, crossed the distance between them and put his hands on her shoulders. “And let me know how I can help,” he countered, able to see how badly she needed comforting. Even if touching each other wasn’t something they usually did.
Except by accident.
Tensing, she buried her face in her hands. “You can’t,” she choked out, sounding even more miserable. “No one can.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said quietly. Then his next idea hit. “Do you want me to talk to this guy...whoever he is?”
“Absolutely not!” she replied, horrified, stiffening all the more.
She had helped him out so much over the past few years, he knew he owed her. “Sure?” he persisted, reluctantly letting go of her and stepping back.
Bess composed herself with her usual grace. “Yes. What I feel... Let’s just say it’s destined to be an unrequited love.”
He gave her another reassuring touch on her forearm. “You’re certain?”
Bess’s chin trembled. “Yes.” She swallowed. “I just need to get over it. Find a way to move on. Which, in all honesty, is the real reason I wrote those letters. So I would get it all out and see how foolish I’m being, even thinking about him, when I know there’s no real interest on the other side, at least not the kind I want and need,” she concluded, matter-of-fact.
Jack understood wishing for the impossible, as well as the comfort that could be gleaned from a close and lasting friendship. The kind he wished they had, because up to now, it had been mostly one of utility, centered around the needs of his kids, rather than their own.
Aware this was the first time she’d let him in, he did the same for her, confessing quietly, “The holidays are hard for me, too.” There were times when he was overcome with grief. And guilt...
Her slender shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly. “I know.”
He frowned, thinking about his late wife. It had been three years since she died, but it felt like forever. “I miss Gayle.” And feel desperately lonely. Ready to move on. “I worry I’m not doing enough for the girls.”
Her breath hitching, Bess lifted her gaze to his. Their shared sorrow shone in her eyes. Acceptance, too. She regarded him fiercely. “You do plenty for Lindsay, Nicole and Chloe, Jack.”
He sure as hell tried. It wasn’t enough.
And never would be.
“Except I can’t bring their mother back,” he said tersely. “So every year for me, I feel like I’m Charlie Brown at Christmastime.”
“Privately depressed,” she guessed. “Even though you know that, given everything you do still have, you should be happy.”
“Right.”
Bess reached over and covered his hand with hers. “I never realized that you were feeling that way.”
With a rueful smile, he looked down at their casually linked fingers. “I put on a good show. I have to. Otherwise, the entire McCabe clan would descend on me in force.”
Understanding lit her eyes. “Same here with the Monroes.”
“And I don’t want to let my daughters down. They deserve to have the best Christmas possible. Despite not having a mom around to enjoy it with us.”
She paused as if to weigh their situations. Then brought him close for a warm, companionable hug. “I’m sorry if my pity party brought you down.”
He gave her a supportive squeeze, too. “You didn’t.” They stepped back. “We’re pals. Pals help each other out. And that being the case...” He looked her in the eye, not bothering to disguise his hope she would rush to his aid once again.
She shook her head, her mood turning wry. “You really have something else to ask me, Doc? After all those really nosy questions?”
The kind they had never asked each other before this. In fact, it was their mutual lack of prying and giving each other plenty of emotional space while still spending time together that had helped them stay friends since his wife had died. They’d kept up the same pattern later when Bess’s engagement had ended.
But now that he was here...why not solve two problems at once? Ease Bess’s melancholy and solve his much thornier problem?
He grinned and asked, “Want to have dinner with me and the girls tonight?”
Chapter Two
Bess looked at the handsome physician still standing opposite her. “I assume by the way you just said that there’s an ulterior motive?”
He lifted his hands. “I need you to talk them out of something.”
Of course he did. His three little girls were known for both their stubbornness and their indefatigable efforts to always get their own way. Fortunately, Jack’s fifty-six-year-old housekeeper and nanny was pretty good at getting and keeping them on track. “Can’t Mrs. Deaver back you up?”
Jack scrubbed a hand across his face. “She’d prefer not to get involved with this one.”
Bess paused, aware that the mystery of whatever was going on in his estrogen-fueled household had already drawn her in. Even though she knew she had to be careful not to get too involved in the sexy widower’s problems, given her current emotionally vulnerable state.
“Which begs the question, then, Doc. Should I?” she retorted, enjoying the switch back to their usual playful banter.
The corners of Jack’s eyes crinkled. “Just join us for pizza.”
As she had many times in the past when he required an extra hand corralling his girls. She sighed. Why was he so damned hard to resist? And why did he keep coming back to her for help, when he could have had any number of other single females in the community rushing to his aid?
Oh, that was right. He picked her because he’d never been attracted to her. And assumed—wrongly, as it happened—she felt exactly the same about him.
As if sensing she was on the edge of refusing, Jack took her hand and said, “Please?”
Her hand tingling, Bess stepped away from him and moved behind her desk to power down her computer. “All right,” she said, pretending the absolute last thing she wanted was to spend time with him. She grabbed her coat and bag. “You’ve convinced me.”
The corners of his lips lifted in a brilliant smile. “The girls will be so pleased.”
But what about you, Jack? How do you feel? Am I just a convenience? A family friend? Backup nanny or mother figure? And if that’s all I am, how much longer can I go on this way?
He walked her out into the hallway, his nearness inundating her with the smell of wintergreen breath mints, hospital soap and the brisk masculine essence that was him. “Six thirty okay?”
Bess nodded. “I’ve got to go home and change clothes, but then I’ll be over,” she said as they reached the elevators in the hospital annex where all the offices were located. As she turned to look up at him, she couldn’t help but think about how much taller he was, and she wondered what it would feel like to be hauled up against his hard, strong body and kissed. “I can’t stay too long, though. I’ve got to visit my new puppy tomorrow.” She was really holding on to that ray of sunshine in her life. She needed that kind of boundless love.
“Well, what do you know?” Jack said, feigning astonishment. “I’ve got an appointment with Winfield Golden Retrievers, too.”
She knew he’d been thinking about putting a deposit down on one of the female pups in the litter because he’d asked her a gazillion questions. About dogs in general, which were good for kids, this particular type of sporting dog and, most important of a
ll, the breeder.
Bess set down her bag and struggled into her jacket. When it got caught around her midriff, he reached over to help her. Tamping down the pleasure the mere brush of his fingertips evoked, she tugged the ends of her long hair from her collar and asked, “Do the girls know?”
“No.” Ever chivalrous, he picked up her bag and handed it to her. “I’m hoping to surprise them with the news tomorrow. If their first meet and greet at the ranch where you’re getting your new puppy goes well, that is.”
“It will,” Bess promised. His children had wanted a pet for as long as she had, especially four-year-old Nicole.
“Let’s hope so,” Jack said as the doors slid open.
As their eyes met, Bess had the oddest sensation he wanted to say or do something else. But the moment passed. Instead, he simply reached out and stopped the elevator doors from closing, holding them for her. With a smile of thanks, she stepped inside. And that, it seemed, was that.
* * *
What had he been thinking? Jack chastised himself as the elevator doors closed and he headed off in the opposite direction. He had almost reached out to hug her goodbye. Or maybe walk her all the way to her car.
He and Bess did not escort each other to their vehicles. They did not hug hello and goodbye. Or discuss intimate personal issues. Or, God forbid, feelings. They were good “family friends” who helped each other out.
Yes, he’d broken protocol just now, when they were still in her office, and she was so distraught.
But normally, Bess made it clear she liked her physical space...at least when it came to him...and didn’t want him invading it.
Message received. Not exactly wanted, but always received.
He supposed it was the season making him acutely aware of his own loneliness. Making him want what he could not have. Jack released a weary sigh. Like it or not, Bess wasn’t the only one exceedingly vulnerable this year.
* * *
“Daddy!” Jack’s three little girls squealed in delight an hour later. “Bess is here!” Oblivious of the cold November air, they opened their front door wide and ushered her inside their large Victorian home.
“Hi, girls!” Bess knelt to hug them all in turn and receive their wildly enthusiastic embraces. “I hear we’re having pizza tonight.”
All had their late mom’s blond curls and turquoise eyes. Lindsay, age six, was clad in her usual pastel jeans, sparkly T-shirt and matching sneakers. Four-year-old Nicole wore a ruffled dress, tights and ballet slippers. Three-year-old Chloe wore a sweater with a teddy bear appliqué on the front, warm leggings and cowgirl boots.
All three talked at once.
“Hi, Bess! Are you excited ’bout Christmas? Daddy says we can’t always have everything we want.”
Wasn’t that the truth, Bess thought, sighing inwardly.
Jack strolled up to join them. He’d changed into khakis and a long-sleeved olive green polo shirt. He took Bess’s jacket. “Slow down, ladies. Give her a chance to catch her breath.”
Mrs. D. came into the hallway. Her salt-and-pepper hair was swept back into a sleek knot at the nape of her neck. She had a wool coat on over her tailored slacks and sweater, and a bag slung over her shoulder. “Hi, Bess.”
Bess greeted the woman fondly. She had worked for Jack since his wife died. She lived nearby and was on her own most weekends. She stayed with the family Monday morning through Friday evening, and whenever Jack was on call for the hospital or had other obligations that required him to have an adult at home. “Headed out?” Bess asked.
Mrs. D. nodded, then turned to Jack. “If you need me, you know where to find me. Otherwise, I’ll see you all first thing Monday morning.”
Jack grinned. “Thanks, Mrs. D.” Once the door shut behind the housekeeper, he motioned for Bess and the girls to follow him to the back of the house. “The pizza just arrived.”
They all sat down at the table. Bess had been there so many times it was like a second home to her. “So what’s going on?” she asked the kids, once again putting her secret attraction to Jack aside.
“We want to write our letters to Santa, but Daddy says it’s not time yet,” Nicole explained.
Jack gave Bess a look that let her know this was what he needed help with. “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet,” he reminded the girls.
“It will be next week!” Chloe said. “And we always get our tree right after that!”
Bess recalled how important the holiday had been to Gayle. He had continued their traditions, for the girls.
“So we could mail our letters then, if they were all done,” Lindsay said.
Bess noted that Jack was looking awfully tense. She helped herself to some of the salad Mrs. Deaver had left for them. “Do you girls know what you want to ask for?”
Lindsay nodded. “I want him to come to our house this year and leave our presents here, not at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”
Now Jack looked really stressed.
“I want a puppy,” Nicole announced, “like the one you’re going to get, Bess. Only I want Santa to bring it down the chimney.”
Which explained Jack’s urgency to have the girls meet the puppies in the litter and see how they reacted to each other.
“I want a new baby,” Chloe said sweetly. “A real one.”
“Santa doesn’t bring real babies,” Lindsay huffed.
“He will, too, if you ask nicely!” Chloe argued.
Bess began to see why Jack had called for reinforcement. “You know,” she intervened, aware this was a really uncomfortable topic for Jack, given the tragedy that had happened the last time a baby arrived in his family, “I think Santa brings baby dolls to little girls.”
“But he brings puppies. I know he does,” Nicole said, “because my friends got puppies last year.”
“Well, I don’t care what Santa brings as long as he comes to our house this year and brings it down our chimney.” Lindsay pouted.
“Actually,” Jack said casually, “I have it on pretty good authority that Santa was planning on leaving your presents at Grandma and Grandpa’s ranch house again this year.”
Lindsay’s lower lip shot out. “I want him to come here,” she stated.
Jack sent Bess a helpless look.
She dived in to find out the reason behind his eldest daughter’s defiant request. “Why is it so important Santa come here instead of somewhere else?” she asked.
Lindsay picked the cheese off her pizza. “Because he comes to all my friends’ houses.”
Nicole nodded. “I think he should come here, too.”
Chloe stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Me, too.”
“Sounds like you’re outnumbered,” Bess told Jack when the meal had concluded and the girls ran upstairs to get their pajamas on.
“I was hoping that, unlike my parents...and Mrs. D., you’d take my side on this,” he grumbled.
“I wish I could,” Bess said, determined not to put herself in an emotionally vulnerable situation with him.
“But...?”
She held his gaze. Struggled not to notice how good he looked and smelled, like bergamot and suede. She moved her eyes on the strong column of his throat and the tufts of dark brown hair visible in the open collar of his shirt. When she felt composed enough, she returned her gaze to his. “They want normal, Jack. And what normal means to them this year is celebrating in their own home. But that doesn’t mean you have to go it entirely on your own.”
“Mrs. D. spends Christmas with her daughter and her family every year. It would be unfair of me to ask her to come in, even for a little bit, even though I know she’d probably do it out of pity.”
She wondered how he could look so cool and confident when she felt so emotionally frazzled just discussing this. “That doesn’t mean you can’t invite your folks to come here for Christmas Eve and Christmas mo
rning.”
“First of all...” Jack rubbed his hand across his closely shaved jaw. “...they’re hosting a big McCabe family get-together on their ranch on Christmas Eve, and another brunch for friends who don’t have family nearby on Christmas morning, so it’s not practical to ask them to do that. Second...” Sadness filled his eyes. “...it reminds me...”
Her heart clutched. “Of Gayle,” she said, resisting the urge to take him in her arms and hold him until their mutual sorrow faded. She had known and loved his late wife, an ob-gyn at the hospital, too... She swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. “Everyone who knew her misses her, too,” she murmured when she could speak again.
Broad shoulders taut with tension, Jack turned away. Slid the leftover pizza into the fridge. When he appeared to get his emotions under control, he turned back to her, his posture casual as ever. “I don’t want to be sad.”
She adapted an equally nonchalant stance. It was time both of them moved on. Likely in different directions. “Maybe you won’t be.”
He studied her, as if trying to decide how much further he wanted this discussion to go.
She squirmed under his scrutiny. It was disconcerting, as a single woman with no children of her own, giving this father of three parenting advice. “Look. The girls feel the way they feel. You can either argue with them about this for the next month, or suck it up and give them what they all really seem to need.”
An indefinable emotion flickered in his eyes. The corners of his lips slanted downward. “Is this your version of tough love?”
“All I can tell you is that when I lost my parents in that car accident when I was sixteen, holidays were hard. But my siblings and I survived them by staying at the ranch and celebrating all the holiday traditions our folks held dear.”
He rubbed the tense muscles at the back of his neck. Exhaled. “Okay, so assume I give in on this point, and the puppy—”
“Which should prove a monumental distraction.”
“—there’s still the matter of the new baby to address.”
A Tale of Two Christmas Letters Page 2