'Tis the Season: A Collection of Mimi's Christmas Books

by Mimi Barbour

  However, his lordship needed to listen to her so they could sort out some things. She had a job to do, just as he did, and she’d bet a fortune he hadn’t given that part of the equation a thought. Didn’t she have any rights? Any choices over the way they would carry on? He was going to get a piece of her mind, but only after she applauded his kind behaviour.

  He could hide behind his cold demeanour all he wanted, but she’d just gotten an inside look—a close-up, shall we say—to the way the man thought, and his innards were as gushy and mushy as anything she’d ever known.

  Chapter Six

  While Marcus helped his mother string garlands around the tree, he finally opened himself to let Abbie through. He couldn’t stand her longing, or the irritation of her pleading, another minute.

  “Why ‘ave you been so mean? It’s horrible, stuck inside you and not being allowed a point of view or the ability to carry on a discussion.”

  “It’s been rather easy, actually. I can hear your thoughts yapping away in my head like a crazed bull terrier. ‘Put that bulb here. No, further back. Lift the streamer. No—more to the right.’ Yap! Yap! Yap! You’ve driven me demented. So why would I let you have even more access?”

  “Because a kind person would—”

  “Never confuse me with a kind man. I always do the things I want to do and in the way I want them to be done.”

  “Don’t be daft. At this very moment you’re suffering dreadfully at having to help your mother, and yet you are doing so. And you’re sipping on Drambuie—you, a bloke who doesn’t drink. Now, I ask you. Is that the actions of a man in control?”

  “I’m beginning to like the taste of the liqueur. It’s a fine blend.”

  First she hummed and then she made throat-clearing noises out loud. His mother looked over, and her eyebrows rose in a questioning manner. “Just something in my throat, Mother.” She nodded and continued threading her handful of tinsel over the branches of the huge evergreen.

  “Fine. You’ve made your point. Can’t argue with your peculiar brand of logic, now, can I?”

  “Uh-huh. You can’t. Particularly since I’ve felt every sigh you’ve swallowed. Every time you’ve bitten your tongue. I know you want to keep this news flash hidden, Marcus, but you are a very nice man.”

  “Well, don’t go broadcasting the fact. And remember, only when it suits me.”

  “It suited you to hire a woman you’d never met, pay her a huge advance, and give it to her weeks before she needed to report to work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, Marcus, I do adore you.” The words slipped out before she could bite them off. Unfortunately, he’d stepped up onto the top rung of the ladder to place the angel at the same time as she made the comment. He fell only a few feet, but his landing was rather abrupt and ungraceful.

  “Marcus, do watch what you’re doing, my son. Did you hurt yourself?”

  He could never abide idiots who stood over a victim obviously in pain and asked the ridiculous question, “Did you hurt yourself?”

  His sigh beat all the others in its loudness and its length. “No, Mother. Falling four feet onto these empty boxes didn’t affect me at all. In fact, I’m lying here trying to catch my breath because I like looking at the tree from this angle.”

  Madeline laughed like a schoolgirl. “I like it when you get all snooty. You have such a wonderful sense of humour, Marcus. I’ve always loved that about you.” She plunked herself down beside him and rubbed his back where he’d tried to reach.

  “You’ve been rather quiet tonight, dear,” Marcus said. “Anything on your mind?” He let her have her way and leaned into the pressure of her hands.

  “Actually, I do. This afternoon you gave me a wake-up call that—I’m sorry to say—is long overdue. I was ever so proud of you for the way you offered to help out the vicar and that poor family. I’m ashamed to say you rather astonished me with your kindness. After what you did, I saw myself for the selfish, self-centred woman I’ve become, and didn’t like what I saw one little bit. I called the vicar as soon as we arrived home and offered my services to help in any way I could over the coming season. He was more than delighted. With his little assistant, Abbie, in the hospital, he’s desperate for helpers.”

  “Are you sure it’s what you want to do? This can take up quite a bit of your time, you know.”

  “Yes, I know. And it’s probably the best thing that could happen to me. I’ll be out of your hair and keeping busy in the community.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

  Thank God for small mercies! The thought popped into his mind while Abbie scoffed and sniffed.

  “What’s the kiss for?”

  “For being such a nice man, and making me so proud.”

  A notion entered and wouldn’t leave. “Why is everyone so determined to label me a nice man?”

  “Because you are,” a small voice insisted.

  “Because, Marcus, you are exactly like your father, who was one of the sweetest men I’ve ever known.” His mother’s beaming look made him squirm. “Luv, I know I refused your offer of a vehicle when I first arrived, but I do believe I’ll be needing my own transportation for the next short while. Can you spare one of the company cars for my use?”

  “Not a good idea, Mother. I’ll order you an automobile tomorrow, something easier to get around in. Our vehicles are slightly larger than what you’ll be needing.”

  “Then I’d like to pick out my own, and I can certainly take care of the cost, dear. But I’d want your help in choosing the right dealer and haggling with the salespeople. It’s such a bother for a woman alone.”

  Honestly! The woman was a genius when it came to interfering with his work and keeping him away from his desk, he decided. Might as well give in gracefully rather than to argue a losing battle. “How about I buy it for your Christmas present? You can select the model, if I deem it a safe choice, that is.”

  “See! A very nice man. I rest my case.” He felt Abbie grinning and visualized a cat licking cream from its whiskers.

  Before he could retaliate, his mother threw her arms around him and had them both toppling over as she randomly kissed his face. “You are an angel. I absolutely adore you.”

  Hmm. I must be losing my touch. In one day, I’ve had two different women tell me they adored me. Surely to goodness I’m not going soft. His contemplation continued as he wondered whether a life-threatening case of pneumonia brought on by overwork and terrible eating habits could change a person’s normal behaviour.

  Not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but his fairly recent collapse had scared the stuffing out of him. Who knew that the cold symptoms he’d fought off for months would turn into such a traumatic event, and that he’d have to be hospitalized. He’d never told his mother about the scare; in fact, he’d told no one except his personal assistant, who had strict orders not to divulge the information, on the threat of losing her highly paid job.

  He supposed no one could go through a near-death experience without being affected. Despite his original scoffing, the shock had changed his outlook on eating healthy and making smarter choices. No longer did he consume the fat-filled junk food he’d been hooked on or the constant cups of coffee he’d used to keep his energy from being depleted. Instead, he’d installed a small gym off his office, made use of the machines daily, and had a similar area put in his apartment.

  The female health officer who’d forced her daily visits on him while he’d been incarcerated in the hospital had taught him many things. He’d either never been aware of them before, or never paid any attention. He’d researched her suggestions and opened his life to change. Stubborn? Maybe, but no one could accuse him of being an idiot.

  Today he looked better and felt stronger than he had in years. Except that, since they moved to Bury, he’d fallen back into his old work habits. Or at least tried to. His mother had effectively reduced his time spen
t at the office, except for the other day, when he’d escaped by leaving the house at dawn, worked non-stop until late afternoon, and ended up asleep on the vicarage bench as a result.

  “Dear, you’re off in dreamland. And by your changing expressions, it’s not a happy place.”

  He looked over at the woman who lingered next to him on the floor, and a huge swell of love burst over him and, no doubt, left him grinning inanely. “I am glad you’re here, Mother. Truly I am.” He sat with elbows on knees, his hands hanging.

  “Me too, son.” She rested her head against his arm, her puffy hair brushing his chin. He caught a whiff of the flowery perfume she’d always worn. A fragrance he attributed to many of his happiest moments. It reminded him of outings to the park as a youngster. How proud he’d felt when she joined in the children’s games when none of the other mums did. Many times, as an only child, he’d had no one else to play with, and it didn’t matter in the least. He had more fun with her, anyway.

  He leaned his head against hers. “You mean you aren’t missing your hectic life, living on the edge, with your Jack? Skiing black diamonds and driving race cars, and—whatever else you two fanatical ninnies managed to get yourselves mixed up in? Let me see, wasn’t your last adventure travelling up the Amazon to live with some pygmies, or some such foolishness?”

  “They weren’t pygmies, they were natives, and they treated us very kindly. I do miss Jack, but between you and me, I’m happy not to be packing my bag and flying off to one adventure after another whenever one of his whims took hold. Can’t say that way of life wasn’t fun, though, and most of our trips were very thrilling. It’s a concept you aren’t familiar with. And, it’s what you need more of in this boring existence of yours, Markie. More excitement.”

  “Markie? That’s so—”

  “Don’t even think about it!”

  “Mother, I’ll thank you to leave that silly nickname in the past. And you have no idea how exciting my life is at this particular time. Any more, and I’d be a gibbering idiot, trust me.”

  Chapter Seven

  Abbie didn’t know whether to take offence or not. She knew he was referring to her tenancy, when speaking with Madeline about excitement in his life, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him. After all, he hadn’t asked for this to happen. But then, neither had she. Her obligations were as important to her as his were to him. He didn’t have a small baby—or the Sisters at the orphanage—relying on him. Worried, she knew she had to make him see her side. Brawling with him in public wouldn’t do at all, and so she waited until he retired for the night and then caught him sliding under his depressing brown covers.

  “Marcus?”

  “No! Abbie, please, not now. I’ve had enough of you women tonight. I’ve already been called a nice man, even an angel. I don’t think I can handle any more adoration.” He arranged the pillow to his liking, folded the covers back under his armpits and closed his eyes. “All I want to do is sleep.” It took a short reach to turn off the bedside lamp, leaving him in darkness.

  “I’ve only popped in for a minute to discuss something with you, hoping that, surely to goodness, you’ll be able to see my point. It’s terribly important, Marcus, or I’d not be bothering you tonight.”

  “Fine, Abbie. Get to it. I’m really exhausted.” He rolled over to the left and shoved his hands under the pillow.

  “Yes, well, you have to understand that it’s very difficult for me to speak about myself. You know, to put myself forward and—”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Quit flitting around the subject. Spit it out!” He changed positions once again, to the right side this time.

  “Do you always sleep in the nude?”

  “What?!!” He sat straight up before he realized she could see where he looked. He squeezed his eyes shut, dropped his chin onto his chest, and rubbed his face.

  “Forget I asked. I’m sorry, really. It wasn’t what I intended to say. Seems random thoughts can pop in, when I’m totally open, and I have no control. Please, Marcus, don’t get so annoyed. I’ll work on that, I promise.”

  “See that you do.” Because he’d gritted his teeth, she figured it was probably a good thing that he only had to think the words.

  Still, she got the message and collected herself. “You’ve been wonderful about this silly little business of our sharing your body—”

  “I do believe your description ‘silly little business’ to be a bit of an understatement?”

  Surprise! Dryness can be explicit in a person’s thoughts even without a voice. He slid back down and pulled the covers up to his neck.

  “Yes, I suppose it is, but we are rather stuck with the situation. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I know that you’re a very busy man, and I respect that. Really I do. Enormously.”

  “But…”

  “But I’m a very busy person also. I have a great many responsibilities, and I hate to ignore them just because I happen to be lodged inside you for a brief spell.”

  “Wishful thinking—”

  “Yes, well, I’m serious, Marcus. Quite frankly, I have an unending list of chores, and they can’t just be neglected. Most of my work is with people like Mrs. Sykes and her family. You know, yourself, it’s important to lend these underprivileged individuals a helping hand. Especially at this time of the year.” She stopped to assess his reaction to her words so far.

  “And?” Another surprise! Droll irony came through their channels loud and clear. One word conveyed his response perfectly.

  “And I don’t want to miss out on the season. It’s my favourite time of the year. So, please, could you let me use your body for my own purposes every once in a while? You know, in order for me to do my job and see to the poor ones who depend on me? I promise not to overuse you, if you’ll only say yes? It’s ever so important—”

  “How much time?”

  “ What do you mean, ‘How much time?’”

  “How many hours a day? I take it you do mean every day.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “So, how many hours a day must I suffer until this infernal situation has been resolved?”

  “How about each afternoon?”

  “You’ll leave me alone in the mornings to get on with my own duties?”

  “Yes, but if your mother demands your attention, it shan’t come out of my time allotment. After all, she is your mother.”

  “Don’t remind me. I just want you to know, I’m only agreeing with this nonsense because of sleep deprivation. Now, good night.”

  He’d closed her off before she could thank him. Instead of words, she spilled her warm appreciation throughout his system, and then spied on him as he smiled and slid off into dreamland. What a big-hearted chap he was. How he’d kept this part of his personality hidden for so many years, she’d never know. But she suspected it had something to do with being raised in an only-child environment, combined with a natural shyness that he’d learned to cover up with an uncaring facade.

  She’d watched earlier, during the interaction with his mother, and she knew what lay hidden behind his gruff exterior. He loved his mother a great deal. It was beautiful to feel the tenderness that gushed inside him whenever she showed affection toward him. Truth to tell, he’d positively melted when she’d kissed his face. Even though he’d shut her down in order to hide his weak side, Abbie had experienced the loveliness. Never having had a parent, she knew the opportunity to be engaged in these moments would stay with her forever.

  Just then an idea burst into her consciousness and wouldn’t be stifled. What would it be like to be loved by a man like Marcus? A strong individual who would care for you and never, ever leave? One day, God willing, she’d find someone who thought the world a dark place until she appeared to light up his life.

  ****

  “Marcus, our arrangement stands. Your mother, remember! It’s in your time allotment to take her car shopping. Sorry. But a deal is a deal.”

  “Confound it! You caught me in
a weak moment, as you’re quite aware. Therefore it shouldn’t count. First you pester me in my—my bed, then you make crude remarks, and then you flatter me into agreeing with this nonsense.”

  “But you did agree. That said, I’ll give you an hour. Then we go to visit the first person on my list, Mrs. Pearson. I’ve been that worried about the poor old dear. She’s an elderly lady, alone and quite weak with very bad arthritis. Unfortunately, I’ve not been able to get her to agree that she needs to be in a home. And I worry that, living alone, she’s in danger of falling, or choking, or any number of things.”

  He wished she’d stop wringing his hands. It felt alien to him and made him uncomfortable. He overrode her instincts and stuffed them in his pockets. “Isn’t there a seniors’ home in Bury to satisfy her requirements?”

  “Oh, yes. The Gardens, a beautiful residence, has been recently renovated and is now home to our elderly. It’s a wonderful facility, and the older folks love living there. They have great fun—bingos, and card games, sewing groups, and bake sales. It’s lovely, it is.”

  “Then there shouldn’t be a problem, should there? It stands to reason she must move there and live among her own kind.”

  “Her own kind? You make her sound like she’s a specific breed of—of animal. For heaven’s sake, she’s a grown woman, with the right to make her own choices.”

  “No wonder you haven’t been able to convince the old dear she needs help. With your outlook, she’ll continue to override you until her so-called ‘choice’ has been made for her.”

  “Wait! Don’t go forming any kind of opinion until you meet her. Then tell me how easy you think this’ll be. She’s a stubborn old girl, no getting away from it.”

  “Well, it remains to be seen. I have no doubt we can talk some sense into her, if we use logic mixed with diplomacy.”

  “Have it your own way.” Smirking, Abbie knew she’d annoyed him by drawing out the last three words. But the silly man needed to learn a lesson, didn’t he? And she couldn’t wait to witness it happening.