by Rula Sinara
He could figure out just about anything but women. How’d she do it? How’d she know when and what? Total silence and she pulls out a ring of metal from her bag of tricks and everything brightens up. Except he now knew that under her smile, Hope hid her share of pain and conflict. The stuff she’d shared? She’d shrugged it off, but Ben knew a person couldn’t brush away painful experiences that easily. His little girl was proof of that.
Hope was wrong about him and pain and his tolerance for it. He’d felt it plenty. Which was exactly why he knew he did best out there as a marine, providing for his kids from far away. This hands-on parenting thing? Obviously he’d missed that gene.
Maddie unzipped the smallest pocket on her backpack and pulled out the first bangle Hope had given her. Ben almost reacted. He wanted to react. She wasn’t supposed to take it to school anymore. Not after what had happened. But with one look from Hope and an almost imperceptible shake of her head, he swallowed his words.
Maddie slipped both of the bracelets on. The bulk of her pink sweatshirt held them in place better than when she was bare armed. Hope twisted to face her in the backseat.
“You know what that one is for?
Maddie shook her head.
“Do you remember what I told you about the bracelets being magical?”
Ben saw Maddie nodding an emphatic yes. It was no wonder he didn’t get any of this. It involved magic.
“Well,” Hope continued, “there’s a rhyme that goes with them. ‘When you wear one, good things come your way. When you wear two, happy memories won’t fade away.’”
Maddie ran her fingers along the thin metal.
“I know the perfect place you can keep them so that they don’t get lost. Your father can put a hook on the wall and you can hang them right over your bed.”
Kind of like an American Indian dream catcher, Ben thought.
Ben pulled into the Harpers’ driveway. Maddie unbuckled and ran inside. Ben put his hand on Hope’s when she opened her door. He expected disappointment. He was ready for it. But instead there was sadness in her eyes, and it beat him up worse than any gash or bruise could. He tightened his hand on hers, then let go. “Thanks. For being there for her…and for everything.”
*
“WHAT HAPPENED TO your face, Daddy?”
Chad came running as Ben followed Hope inside. She was right about the kid copying his every move. What had happened to his face wouldn’t set a good example.
“Yeah, what happened to you?” Eric asked, walking in from the kitchen with a cane for support and a cookie, the aroma of caramelized sugar and cinnamon following him. At least he wasn’t on crutches. Nina had told Ben that if it weren’t for Hope insisting he do his therapy exercises, Eric would have been giving everyone a hard time about it. Something about a young, pretty face.
“Well…you see…” Ben stooped down and picked Chad up, positioning him in the crook of his arm. He carried him over to the Harpers’ Christmas tree. Maddie sat cross-legged, fingering the ornaments. One had a music box inside. She pulled on a looped string and let go. He didn’t recognize the tune. He looked at the lights, twinkling hypnotically. Zoe used to stare at their tree. Even with the ficus still lit up at his place, it wasn’t the same. It couldn’t hold all the ornaments.
If Zoe were here, she would have given him that same look Hope did in the car. Sadness. So how was not putting up their Christmas things honoring Zoe? What was the point in depriving the kids? Hope had been right in questioning why he set rules and boundaries.
“I had a tree accident,” he answered at last.
“A twee accident?” Chad asked.
“Yep. I was hit by a tree trained to attack anyone who didn’t plan on putting one up. There I was, minding my own business, when I passed a place selling Christmas trees. I said no, thanks, and the next thing you know a tree came at me, followed by an army of them, green branches flying everywhere. I ducked, but couldn’t escape.”
“Uh-uh,” Chad said in disbelief, but his look of awe said he believed every word. Maddie knew it was made up, of course, but sat listening intently. Ben leaned over so he was level with Maddie. Chad stayed perched on his knee.
“What did you do?” Chad asked.
“I told those botanical beasts that if they set me free, I’d promise to take my kids to get a tree right away.”
Maddie scrambled to her feet, and Chad pierced the air with a battle cry.
“We’re getting a real one!”
“Chad, go use the bathroom before we go anywhere,” Ben said.
Eric chuckled from his spot on the couch. Hope smiled and peered at Ben from under her lashes. He never wanted the memory of that smile to fade.
“What do you say?” he asked her. “Have you ever gone tree hunting? I’m having a hard time picturing Christmas trees growing in Kenya.”
Hope stepped away from the corner where she’d been leaning against the wall, watching them.
“You’re correct. Other than hunting down our plastic one from the storage area, I have not had a real tree-hunting experience, but I think you and the kids should go by yourselves.”
What? She was still upset with him?
“But it makes sense for you to come. I kind of assumed you would, since we’d head straight back to the house afterward.” What had he gotten himself into?
“I can wait here. Just swing by when you’re done,” Hope said.
Maddie took Hope’s hand and tugged her even closer to Ben. She wanted her to come, too. For an entirely different reason, he was sure. Ben started to reach out to take Hope’s hand himself. He wanted to pull her out the door. Make her come, because he needed her to be there. He was taking the kids to get a tree because a crazy voice in his head was telling him it was the right thing to do. Whether it was going to be a good thing, he didn’t know. What if he messed up? What if being in that tree lot proved too hard to take, and he ruined the entire night for his kids? He wanted her home when he helped the kids hang all the ornaments Zoe had collected over the years. How could he get through that without Hope there to pick up the pieces if he broke down?
Maybe she didn’t want to.
“I heard something about going to get a tree,” Nina said, coming out of the kitchen wearing a red sweater with poinsettia prints. Ben pulled his hand back, but from the way Nina paused and looked at both of them, she’d seen the action.
Nina cleared her throat. “I’m so glad. This will be a good thing, Ben. Tree shopping. Just you and the kids. You’ve been needing to spend some family-bonding time with them.” She turned to Hope. “You can help me in the kitchen. I have a few recipes I can teach you so that you can make them once you return home. Something to remember us by,” she said with deliberate, practiced sweetness.
Irritation pricked at Ben, but he couldn’t do more than nod. Hope flinched at Nina’s words, but she maintained her composure.
“That’s just what I was telling him. He should go spend time alone with his family. Have fun with them,” Hope said, tipping her chin. She and Nina stared at him.
Women, Ben thought. Each with a different agenda for messing with his plans.
“Is Ryan up?” he asked.
“He’s still napping. But he’s due to wake up. I don’t think you can handle all three on your own in the tree lot, unless you plan on keeping Chad on a leash, can you?” Nina said.
Actually, he did have one of those toddler leashes. It was one of the first things he’d bought when he’d been thrown into full-time fatherhood. He didn’t think Nina had ever seen him use it, but how else was he supposed to make it through a grocery store with a loaded cart? Strapping Ryan to his chest in an infant carrier and clipping Chad’s toddler leash onto his belt had given him tremendous peace of mind on many occasions. He was pretty sure it was in the glove compartment.
Maddie clung to Hope’s hand and narrowed her eyes at him. He narrowed his back at her.
“I can handle all three. But I can’t help you there, Mads,” he said
, referring to Hope. “If she doesn’t want to come, I can’t force her. I guess it’ll just have to be one memory of her time here that she’ll have to live without.”
“You don’t play fair,” Hope said, stroking her fingers through Maddie’s loose hair.
“Who’s playing anything? I’m just saying.”
Ryan started crying from his crib. Apparently the kid had already developed a sixth sense for being left out.
“Why don’t you go get Ryan ready, Hope?” Nina said. “That’ll speed things up. He thinks he can handle all three. Let’s get him out the door before he chickens out.”
Before he changed his mind? Or before he stood up to her and insisted that Hope come along? Nina was working hard to keep Hope at home. Hope had a right to go, being there to help with the kids and visit America, but one tiny action—barely a fingertip touch—and Nina was out to make it clear that she wasn’t okay with anything more developing between them.
Out of respect for Zoe, he had to think that Nina was right, and he was out of line. He just didn’t like the way she’d insinuated herself into the situation. He’d been telling Hope earlier to stand up for herself and not let anyone dictate her path. And look at him now. Chicken sh…droppings. He was trying to get in the habit of cursing less for the kids’ sakes. Nina went to get Chad bundled up.
“Maddie,” Hope said, tilting her chin up so she faced her. “I have something you can take with you. Don’t let me forget when I get back with Ryan.”
Hope didn’t take long changing Ryan and getting him into warm gear. She’d really become a pro at multitasking with the children. She clipped Ryan in his car seat, then searched her bag.
“Here it is,” she said, handing Maddie a pocket camera she must have picked up at the drugstore when she ran errands. Nothing fancy like the ones Zoe had used, the ones she could have built a name from but had given up for motherhood—for him—but the way Maddie lit up was priceless. Hope hunkered down to Maddie’s level.
“It’s digital, so your father can help you transfer pictures whenever you want, or show you how to do it,” she said, glancing at Ben. Sure. After he had the chance to set up every child-safety protocol possible on the computer at home. And then some. “Take it, Maddie, so that when you come back, you can show me—not just tell me—about your tree hunt.”
Maddie wrapped her arms tight around Hope’s neck, and Hope gave her a kiss on the cheek. Ben swallowed hard. He scratched the side of his neck. He needed control. He needed out of this. Maddie ran to the couch to show her grandpa the camera, and Chad did frog jumps through the room.
“Actually, I can’t, I just remembered that I have to—”
“Ben,” Hope said, stopping him. She stepped closer, grounding him without contact. His breathing slowed. “Listen to me, Ben,” she whispered. “You’ll survive this, too.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dear Diary,
I had a dream that Daddy liked Miss Hope. I mean the way grown-ups like each other. I asked Mommy if she was okay with it and she said yes. I’d be okay with it, too. I think he likes her in real life.
BEN WASN’T A FOOL.
He was a marine, and marines did not go on a mission without combat gear.
He stood at the entrance to the crowded tree lot. He hadn’t taken all his kids, on his own, through a crowd at night. Grocery stores were well lit, and he’d always managed between putting the kids in the shopping cart and the grocery items in their laps, and Chad’s leash.
A well-bundled Ryan was strapped to his chest. Chad was secured in a harness that pressed against his down jacket, making him look like that tire-commercial balloon man. Ben tugged the carabiner that latched Chad’s politically incorrect leash to Ben’s belt loop. Harness secure. Check. Maddie stood no more than three feet from him, as instructed. He pulled a receiver out of his pocket and hit the test button. The gadget he’d secured to her flashed and beeped. Tracking device operational. Check. If she wandered and someone kidnapped her, and she couldn’t scream… He wasn’t taking that chance. It had been one of the items on his list of security gadgets his company could offer—the company that wasn’t happening. He’d gotten one at the beginning of the school year in case of field trips.
He hooked his thumbs behind the straps of his camo backpack and ran a mental checklist. Bottle, baby wipes, diapers, plastic trash bag for diapers, teething gel, Mad’s writing pad, ziplock bag of cheese crackers, one emergency baby food jar of sweet potatoes and a couple of extra bottles of disinfecting hand gel. Was he forgetting something? His watch read 1700 hours. They needed to get on with it, because he was going to have to get the tree set up with water before it was time for all three kids to hit the racks.
Santa stood a couple of yards from the entrance ringing a bell and calling out, “Come here, children. Ho, ho, ho.”
Was Ben the only one who found that a little creepy?
“Santa!” Chad yelled. He started off, and Ben reeled him in.
“Don’t even think about it, kids,” he warned. He gave Santa “the look.”
“Okay. Stay close. Let’s do this.”
The place had just about every type of evergreen he could identify, some in heights that would scrape the paint off his ceiling.
“I like this one,” Chad said, scooping up trampled-on snow and showering it on any branch he could reach. The kid had a good eye. A dark, lush spruce with even branching. He’d probably have to temporarily move the ficus to a different spot in order to fit this tree in the living room.
Maddie patted his arm and shook her head.
“You don’t like it?”
She pointed, instead, to a rather lanky tree at the end of the yard. The blue-green tinge of the needles was nice, but its branches were few and far between. He could see where some had been cut off near the trunk. That explained the red sticker sale tag.
Maddie took out her camera and took a picture of the tree, then pointed at it again. She dragged him closer by the hem of his jacket.
“I don’t know, Mads.” Her chosen tree looked as if it was waiting for Charlie Brown to show up. He looked at his daughter and back at the tree. Then she did something she hadn’t done in the almost eight months since losing her mom. She blew him a dramatic kiss with both hands, then cupped them under her chin in a begging attitude. People funneled past them, music played and Chad was about to rip his belt loop from the seams, but Ben couldn’t move. Couldn’t stop looking at his little girl’s face. The coy look in her eyes. The spark that had been missing. The life-loving energy—that she’d gotten every bit of from her mother—glowing from her cheeks. He reached down and held her chin in his hand.
“Mads. You’re right. This tree is perfect.” Broken, but holding together.
He waved down one of the sellers and was told it would be a few minutes. Chad examined Maddie’s tree and scrunched his face.
“Daddy? Have you lost your mind?”
Ben raised his eyebrows at the little rebel.
“Yes, Chad. I think I have. Because we’re not just getting one tree. We’ll get Charlie here, but tomorrow we’re going to a tree farm. Don’t tell anyone, though. It’ll be a surprise.”
Because we’re taking Hope, and nobody’s stopping us. Not even her.
*
HOPE ROLLED ONTO her back on her mattress and gripped fistfuls of her hair. About an hour ago, Ben had called Nina on his cell, asking if she wouldn’t mind dropping Hope off at the house because he was running late. Hope had already asked her the same favor, claiming that she had a migraine coming on.
Nina had indeed kept her busy with a baking lesson, but all Hope could think of the entire time was what Nina had implied earlier. She hadn’t said anything afterward. She hadn’t cornered Hope over flour mixes. But the tension was there. And yet Nina was right. Hope was a fifth wheel. Nothing but a spare tire, not meant to roll with the other four.
She was becoming too comfortable with Ben. Too close.
She could change her ticket and b
e in Nairobi within the next few days. Everything would be back to normal.
Except that Ben and his children wouldn’t be there.
Her eyes burned, and she sniffed back tears. She wasn’t a part of their family. She was an intruder at best. Someone who was crossing the line. Drawn to a man and his children when they’d suffered such loss, not even a year ago.
She wasn’t sure what it was, what she was feeling for Ben, but she did know it was too soon for him. Too soon for her to figure out if whatever seemed to be passing between them was just curiosity, or friendship, or sympathy, or something more. In the end, it didn’t matter. If she returned home, he’d have the space he needed to bond with his kids and see that he needed them as much as they needed him. If she left, he’d have the time to figure things out—if he didn’t return to duty first.
If he didn’t run away.
She was trying to run away.
The sound of laughter drew her to the window. It was dark, and with her room lights on, she couldn’t see anything but the neighbor’s wonderland of lights. But she knew. Only one boy could squeal like that. She ran to turn off the room light and peered through the curtains. She watched as Ben hoisted, then tossed Chad into the air a few inches from his hands, let go and caught him. He ruffled his hair and sent him to knock on the door as he bent into the car to get Ryan. Maddie was skipping—skipping!—after Chad. Hope put her head against the ice-cold windowpane. There she was, once again, gazing into a snow globe with no way in.
You’re the key, Hope.
Her mama’s voice sounded in her head, telling her that her future was in her hands.
The problem was that this time, the key didn’t fit.
*
NOW, THIS FELT like a family outing.
Ben glanced sideways as he drove carefully down the winding country roads that led to a tree farm that offered balled and burlapped evergreens. Mounds of mud-spackled plowed snow lining the road gave way to an unmarred, glistening blanket of white that stretched endlessly to their left. To the right, the blanket wove its way through a splintered forest and a herd of deer on high alert.