by Janice Lynn
“I want you, if that’s what you’re asking. I never stopped wanting you. After what we just shared, surely you don’t doubt that.” His eyes caressed her face. “You’re beautiful, Abby.”
“You told me I looked awful,” she reminded him.
“That was pre-shower.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes remained dark, stormy. “You’re always beautiful, Abby. You must know that.”
“Thank you,” she said. How could she not believe him when his gaze echoed his words? Dirk really did find her beautiful. He really did want her and really had made love to her.
Christmas miracles never ceased.
“But we can’t repeat what just happened. Not when we’re just friends.”
She stood corrected.
Apparently, Christmas miracles did cease.
CHAPTER TEN
HAVING made it clear that he planned to lighten her load whether Abby wanted him to or not, Dirk went with her to her volunteer stints, becoming more and more involved in her day-to-day life, more and more involved in her Christmas charity events.
Although he didn’t pretend the Christmas aspect didn’t bother him, he no longer winced when she told him what they’d be doing for the day.
As she’d just done.
He’d come over, insisted upon bringing bagels, cream cheese and fresh fruit. They’d eaten and addressed Christmas cards to be distributed to nursing-home residents. When they’d finished, running his finger over the steepled church to her mother’s Christmas village, Abby’s favorite piece, he’d asked what was next.
“It’s called Toys for Toddlers. Various businesses have set up stations for people to donate toys to be given as Christmas gifts to needy children. Our job is to go by the various drop-off points and pick up the toys. We’ll deliver them to the headquarters and volunteers will wrap them at a later time, probably tomorrow.”
His face remained impassive as he picked up a village figure of a couple holding hands on a park bench. “When and how do the toys actually get to the kids?”
Purposely trying to look impish, Abby smiled. “Santa delivers them, of course.”
His gaze narrowed suspiciously and she’d swear he’d have tugged on his collar if he had one. She bit back laughter, enjoying teasing him, enjoying this budding aspect to their relationship.
“Santa?”
Watching as he carefully replaced the figure where she’d had it, she gave in. “No worries.” She placed her hand on his arm, loved the sinewy strength there, but wondered at herself for touching him when she usually so carefully avoided doing so. “You’re safe. I’m not in charge of Santa.”
At least he was safe from playing Santa. Safe from her was another matter altogether. The contact of their skin touching was frying her brain cells, making her want to push him down on the sofa and leap into his lap for a little Santa role playing. She had all kinds of things on her wish list—naughty and nice.
She wanted him to kiss her, believed he wanted to kiss her, too. As frustrating as she found his insistence that they were just friends, she believed he had his reasons. But if he didn’t work through them soon, she was going to make herself a mistletoe halo and wear it at all times.
“That’s good to know.” He sighed with real relief.
She observed him closely, noted that his shoulders had relaxed with her answer. “I was teasing. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t resist. Was being my Santa really that bad?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Anything to do with Christmas is that bad.”
His words startled like gunshots fired through a silent night. The true depth of his dislike of the holidays struck her with guilt that she’d teased him. Yes, she’d heard him say he didn’t like Christmas, had seen his discomfort, but she hadn’t truly appreciated how deep his dislike ran, hadn’t fully appreciated that he repeatedly set that dislike aside to help her with holiday projects.
“Why?” Why didn’t he like Christmas? Why was he willing to set aside that dislike for her? Even before they’d known she was pregnant, he’d played Santa. Because she’d asked him to. He’d also volunteered to help her at the food bank. Because he’d thought she was ill and needed his help.
Looking at him, his handsome face clouded, his eyes full of pain as he stared at the ceramic village, she wavered between reminding herself to protect her heart and risking his rejection by wrapping her arms around him. But she only held on to his arm.
“I don’t like Christmas.”
If she understood, maybe she could understand him, could understand why he insisted on calling them friends. Out of misplaced honor to his deceased wife and daughter?
“Tell me why you don’t like Christmas. Please.” She squeezed where she held his arm. “I want to understand you and can’t fathom why anyone wouldn’t love the holidays.”
Silence. More silence.
With his free hand, he raked his fingers through his dark hair. His jaw rotated, then clenched. “Sandra and Shelby died on their way to a Christmas sale.”
“Oh, God, no,” she gasped. She’d known they’d died in a car crash, had known he professed to dislike the holidays. Why hadn’t she put two and two together and come up with the right answer about why he didn’t like Christmas?
“It was early morning, before dawn,” he continued, staring straight ahead, but she suspected he saw nothing, that he was locked away in a different time. A time where he had endured a horrible tragedy. Had hurt in ways Abby couldn’t fix with a little Christmas magic.
Her heart bled for him, at the pain still so evident on his face, at the hollowness in his eyes.
“I’d pulled an all-nighter at the hospital, was still there and didn’t know she was going to the sale. When they wheeled her in, I couldn’t believe it was her, couldn’t fathom why she’d be out that early.”
“Oh, Dirk.” She wasn’t sure he heard her. He didn’t appear to even be in the same room with her, his mind was so far removed from the present.
“She’d dragged Shelby out at that godforsaken hour so she could go and buy my Christmas gift.” Anger cracked his voice. Deep, hoarse anger that chilled Abby to the core.
She clasped his hand, squeezed. “I’m so sorry, Dirk.”
“Yeah, me, too.” He looked toward her, met her gaze, and possibly saw her, although she still wasn’t sure he wasn’t too far lost in the past. “I’d rather have had my wife and daughter than anything any store sold.”
“I know you would.” Beyond caring about protecting her heart, she moved to where she could wrap her arms around him, hold him close. “Of course, you would.”
He remained stiff in her embrace, not relaxing, not making any move to take her into his arms or acknowledge that she held him.
“There was a Christmas tree in the emergency department’s office where they put me after…Christmas music played.” His face twisted. “I felt as if Christmas mocked me. The best part of my life was being ripped away when the world was celebrating peace, love and happiness. It didn’t seem right.”
“What happened was an accident. A tragic accident.” She reached up, brushed her fingers over his face, smoothing the tension lines at his temples. “But Sandra and Shelby wouldn’t have wanted you to be unhappy, to lose the spirit of Christmas, the spirit of life.”
He blinked. “You don’t know that.”
“Your wife was on her way to purchase a gift for you. Not because of whatever that gift was, but because she wanted to buy you something special. That doesn’t sound like a woman who would want her husband to be lonely and miserable at the holidays.”
But it wasn’t just at the holidays, she realized. Dirk had closed off his heart. Permanently.
“As if my family would let me be lonely at the holidays,” he snorted.
He’d never mentioned a family. Only Sandra and Shelby. “Your family?”
Why had Dirk mentioned his family? Just because his mother had called repeatedly over the past week wan
ting to know if he was coming home for Christmas, attempting to change his mind when he repeatedly said no.
Apparently, she’d also put his brother and sister on the task as well, as both had been using various technologies to insist he come home so the family could all be together for the holidays.
As if he’d want to set himself up for another miserable confrontation. As if he’d want to give them the opportunity to force him down memory lane with photos and movies like they had the year before until he’d had enough and walked out.
A Christmas intervention. Who ever heard of anything so foolish? Anything so humiliating and embarrassing? Anything so hurtful? He’d been emotionally ambushed and, no matter how well intentioned, they’d ripped away what little balm he’d coated his raw heart with.
They just didn’t understand the ache inside him.
No one did.
How could they when they still lived inside their safe little world? Sure, they’d mourned Sandra and Shelby, but they’d moved on, forgotten. Only his mother seemed to have some understanding. She put up Christmas ornaments in honor of Shelby. A baby’s first Christmas ornament that had his precious little girl’s photo inside.
As much as he wanted his mother to keep Shelby’s memory alive, being surrounded by family only brought home just how much he’d once had. How much he’d lost.
Why had he brought up this subject? He didn’t talk about Sandra and Shelby. Neither did he discuss why he didn’t like Christmas. Not with anyone. Ever.
He’d never told anyone the details of his wife and daughter’s deaths. His family knew, of course. Sandra’s sister had shared that they’d planned to meet early at the department store. So early another car had crashed into her head-on when the driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel. A driver who’d also been on her way to an early-morning Christmas sale. All for a few sale-priced items that the recipient hadn’t needed to begin with.
If Christmas never came again, Dirk wouldn’t care, would be glad to not have to face all the reminders, would be glad not to have his family put so much pressure on him to “live life.” What did they think he was doing?
“Dirk?” Abby touched his face, pulling him to the present. Her palm was warm against his face. “Do you have a large family?”
Closing his eyes, trying to focus on the present, he sighed. “Huge.”
When he opened his eyes, Abby’s had widened with delight. “Really?”
His stomach ached. “Unfortunately, yes.”
She blinked, clearly confused. “Unfortunately?”
“Obviously you’ve never had a big family.”
Looking a little sad, she shook her head. “No, my parents were both only children of older parents. I sort of remember my grandmother, but she died when I was five and the others had passed before her. When my parents died, I went to live with my great-aunt. She died while I was in college. I always wanted a big family.”
Dirk studied her, a woman who had no family, had lost a great deal, and thought of what a bright light she was to those who knew her. “How is it you remain so positive when you’ve had so much loss in your life?”
“Everyone faces loss, although certainly there are varying degrees. Attitude is a choice and I choose to be happy.”
“Even though you’re pregnant with my baby?” He hadn’t meant his question to sound so negative. Neither had he meant to hold his breath while he waited for her answer.
A smile softened her expression. “This baby is a blessing. I might not have thought so when I first found out, but that was foolishness. Our baby is a miraculous gift. All babies are.”
He let out the breath, relaxing a bit that their baby would be loved, that Abby would be able to wrap this baby in her goodness, that she’d make up for the hole where his heart used to be. “You’re the gift, Abby.”
Clasping his hand, she lifted it to her lips, pressed a soft kiss to his fingers. “I’m thankful for you, too.”
Her eyes glittered with compassion, which usually sent him running for the hills, but there was more in Abby’s gaze. So much more.
In her eyes he saw hope. Hope that he could be what she needed. Hope that was a waste of her goodness since her hope centered around him.
Dirk’s apartment stood out in stark contrast to Abby’s house. No brightly lit Christmas tree. No wrapped packages. No Christmas spice candles. No garland or bows. Nothing.
For that matter, his apartment was stark when not considering the Christmas season. The bare necessities interlaced with a few high-tech niceties. Nothing warm and inviting.
A sofa. A fully loaded entertainment center worthy of hosting all sporting events. A square coffee table with a few sporting and medicine magazines tossed onto it. The area of the room meant to hold a dining table held a weight bench and an elliptical stair machine instead. Two stools sat in front of the bar that divided the kitchen from the open floor plan. The kitchen looked just as barren as the rest of the apartment. As if he barely lived here.
He’d been here, what? Two? Three months? Not a real long time, but enough that a home should begin to reflect its owner. Perhaps this bare one did.
Glancing toward her, Dirk paused, obviously reading her expression. “It’s a place to live, Abby.”
She nodded, aching more for him than she had since the morning he’d told her about his wife and daughter’s deaths. Emotionally, she’d continued to waver back and forth between her growing feelings for Dirk and the pending sense that she needed to ship her heart to the North Pole in the hope of keeping it out of Dirk’s clutches.
“It’s a nice building.”
He threw his head back in laughter. “Which is your way of telling me my apartment is sadly lacking.”
Glancing around the sparse rooms again, she shrugged. “Well, at least I know what to get you for Christmas.”
Christmas was Tuesday, just a few short days away, and she’d not bought him anything, hadn’t known what to get him. She’d figured she’d make him a tin full of peanut-butter goodies, but she wanted to give him something more.
His laughter faded. “I don’t want you to get me anything, Abby.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to mention Christmas at all.
They’d just stopped by his apartment so he could grab a shower and clean clothes, then he’d promised to take her out for dinner. When she wasn’t nauseated, she was starved. Today had been one of those days where she couldn’t get enough to eat.
“I mean it, Abby. No presents.” Of course, Dirk would say he didn’t want anything. She understood that, planned to get him something anyway. After seeing his apartment for the first time today, she had a much better idea of things he could use.
“But—”
“No buts. I’m serious. Do not get me a present. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
She didn’t say anything. How could she? Dirk was the most important person in her life. She couldn’t not get him a present.
He eyed her as if waiting for her to argue. When she didn’t, he gestured toward the entertainment center. “Make yourself at home. Watch whatever you like. There’s drinks in the refrigerator. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Abby nodded, but rather than sit on the oversized leather sofa she wandered around the barren room. No pictures hung on the wall. No little knickknacks sat on the coffee table. Anyone could have lived here. But Dirk did.
Her heart ached for him all over again. He really had cut himself off from the world after his wife and daughter had died. If not for work, she wondered if he’d have any contact with others. Until her.
She’d definitely pushed him outside his comfort zone with her Santa requests and numerous volunteer stints.
Now they were going to be parents, which definitely pushed his limits. Dirk needed her. Needed this baby. Maybe he didn’t realize just how much but, looking around this apartment, Abby did realize.
A loud ring sounded throughout the room. Abby jumped, looked around
and spotted Dirk’s house phone.
Should she answer? Probably not.
But as the shrill ringing sounded time and again, she decided whoever was calling must really need to talk to him, could possibly even be the hospital as he wouldn’t have heard his cell while in the shower.
“Hello?” she said, hoping she was doing the right thing by answering, but knowing at the moment she was the one outside her comfort zone.
Silence.
“Hello?” she repeated, guilt slamming her as surely as if she’d peeked inside a Christmas package. She should have just let the phone ring.
“I was trying to get in touch with Dirk Kelley,” a female voice said, sounding a little uncertain.
Whoever the caller was, she hadn’t said Dr. Kelley. She’d said Dirk. Abby’s guilt over answering the phone skyrocketed. As did her curiosity and some other green monster taking hold in her chest.
“Um, this is Dirk’s number. He’s not available at the moment. Could I take a message?”
A woman was calling Dirk. Who was she? Why was she calling? What right did Abby have to answer his phone, to take a message?
Every right, her heart shouted. She was pregnant with his baby, had spent the past several days in his company, working, volunteering, getting to know him, and he her.
Silence, then, “Who is this?”
Just exactly what Abby wanted to know, in reverse. But she bit her tongue. Dirk had had another life in Oak Park. Although they’d talked a lot over the past several days, he’d shared very little of that life with her. Had there been someone special? Someone he’d left behind?
The hurt she’d felt when she’d discovered he’d been married, had had a child, and she hadn’t known came back. Why had Dirk revealed so little of his past?
“Abby. I, uh, work with Dr Kelley.” Why had she called him Dr. Kelley? “We’re friends.” Why had she added that last? What she really wanted was to insist on knowing who the caller was and why she was calling Dirk.
“Oh,” the woman said, slowly, as if digesting Abby’s answer. “That’s nice. Where is my son that he can’t answer his cell or his home phone?”