Resisting Fate

by Kylie Gilmore

  He straightened. Wait a minute. That was all he needed to do. Some gesture that made her come undone, that showed her how much he loved her. His mind boggled for a moment. He did love her. Why else would he feel like he’d lost a part of himself when he’d lost her? He’d do something to show her she could trust him to come through. She’d understand she didn’t have to deal with every fucking thing in life on her own. He helped the people he was close to. It was an essential part of him. She had to understand he helped because he loved.

  He stood, pulling his jacket on, determined to get through to Missy. He stopped. What was he going to do, show up at her apartment? No. The Harper family. Missy would be going there tomorrow for Christmas Eve. She wanted to bring the Harpers a special Christmas celebration, and he’d help too, showing Missy they could be a great team if she’d just let him in. He pulled out his phone, searching for their address, but it wasn’t listed anywhere. No problem. He knew they went to the same church as his grandmother. He’d get the info from her. He fired off a quick text to Logan, saying he’d be back in a couple of hours. He headed out the door, hope giving him an extra burst of energy.

  By the time he got back to the office, it was hours later because he’d gotten hung up at his grandmother’s house. She’d insisted on feeding him lunch and also gave him the third degree, asking if he was taking good care of himself, eating right, exercising, getting enough sleep, blah, blah, blah. He did his best to reassure her, but she seemed to know something was off with him. In any case, she’d been very helpful about the Harpers. After hearing their situation, he understood exactly why Missy was taking their cause so personally.

  He just hoped his gesture didn’t blow up in his face. With Missy, sometimes good intentions weren’t enough. She had to believe deep down that he meant it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Christmas Eve started out terrible and went downhill from there. First thing in the morning Missy discovered the Christmas turkey she’d planned to cook for the Harper family was rotten—tinged gray and reeking. Then the supermarket was sold out of turkeys. The whole meal had been planned around the turkey, so she’d driven to two more supermarkets, finally finding one the right size, but it was frozen solid. She’d settled for two roast chickens. Then she’d slipped on a patch of ice in the supermarket parking lot, landing mostly on her hip. It hurt like a sonuva bitch, and she was sure she’d have a massive bruise.

  On the way home she got caught in crawling traffic near the Eastman mall, cursing all the last-minute shoppers to hell.

  And now that she was finally pulling into the parking lot of her apartment building, the thin hold on her composure blew right along with her tire.

  She swore a blue streak, smacking the steering wheel several times before pulling into a parking space, the car shaking and clunking along. To say that her Christmas spirit was low was an understatement. She felt like Scrooge, wanting the whole thing to be over with. Though she knew it wasn’t just the stupid turkey or traffic or her flat tire, she was miserable over Ben. She missed him and hated that she missed him. Hated that her bed felt empty, hated that she saw his teasing blue eyes and ready dimpled smile every time she closed her eyes, hated that she felt so much for a man she couldn’t trust. She knew the high cost of love, yet she’d stupidly let him into her heart. He wasn’t as awful as Louis, she knew that, but he’d still hurt her. And she wouldn’t let him hurt her again, even if she was miserable for a while. It would pass. She was a survivor.

  She left the tire for later, grabbed the grocery bag, and went up to her apartment to get started on the cooking. By noon she was feeling a little calmer, or maybe she was just tired. She’d gotten up at five a.m. to get started on the meal preparation. The chickens were cooked; all the side dishes were prepared and in plastic containers. She’d made homemade apple pie last night. Now she just had to change the flat tire, load the food, decorations, and gifts into her car, and drive to the Harpers’ apartment. She’d already confirmed with Rena that she’d be home this afternoon for a quick visit.

  Missy changed her tire with the spare in the trunk, pleased with her competency. She used to have to call triple A for help, but her brother-in-law, Nico, had been happy to show her and Lily some basic car-maintenance skills. She admired her handiwork for a moment. The tire was smaller than the others, but it should hold for the ten-minute drive across town. She slowly stood, her hip sore from squatting on the ground to change the tire. She shivered in the damp and cold and looked to the sky—a pearly gray that promised snow. Oh, how she’d love to have a white Christmas. But not yet. She still had a lot to do for Christmas Eve.

  She made her way back upstairs to her second-floor apartment, sore but determined. Three trips later, her car was packed to the gills with the perfect Harper family Christmas. She blew out a breath. Okay, she was back on schedule. It was time to bring the merry.

  “Merry, merry, merry,” she chanted, willing herself to cheer up as she slowly pulled out of the lot, the car rocking with the low spare tire.

  Only two traffic lights to get through, slowly and steadily she made her way through town, then turned onto Main Street. So far so good. She turned right at the church, the Harpers’ apartment wasn’t far now, three blocks down, one over. Bam! Her heart raced at the sound and she gripped the steering wheel tight as the car lurched to the right. She’d hit a pothole she hadn’t seen. What the hell, she could barely steer. She slowly pulled over to the curb, the car shaking violently. This could not be good. She got out and stared at the culprit—her spare tire had a flat. Grrr…

  She looked up and down the street at the rows of houses all decorated for Christmas, the families inside probably enjoying their pre-holiday preparations. She wouldn’t disturb them for help. She could do this. All she had to do was walk four blocks with her stuff. Sure, it might take a few trips, but she’d get it done. First decorations, she’d leave those on the front porch of the Victorian where the Harpers rented the third-floor attic apartment. Hopefully none of the kids would notice her until she was all set. Then presents, then the food.

  She delivered the decorations—two boxes in her arms plus two bags slung over her shoulders. Her hip was sore and her face felt frozen, but whatever.

  Next the presents. She wrestled the garbage bag full of gifts out of the backseat, then retrieved the wrapped picture frame with a gift certificate for a family photo session from the trunk. She couldn’t chance that breaking. She was about to set out when a man called out to her.

  “Need any help there?”

  She turned to find the owner of the house she was parked in front of, an elderly man with balding white hair, peering at her from his front porch, where he stood in a flannel shirt, loose slacks, and slippers. “No, thanks,” she called. “I’ve got it.”

  He approached, checking out her car. “Looks like you got a flat.”

  “Yes, I’ll deal with that when I get back.”

  He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. “You got another tire?”

  “No. It’s okay. I’ll get a tow and walk home.”

  He gave her a sympathetic look. “How far are you walking? I could give you a ride.” He smiled. “A young lady shouldn’t be walking far on a cold day like today.”

  She took a step away, uneasy with his offer. “It’s not far, thanks. I’ll be out of your hair quick as I can.” She took off and didn’t look back. The bag of gifts bumped her hip painfully and she had to switch it to her other side. She soldiered on, ignoring her sore hip, frozen face, numb fingers and toes. One more trip.

  Thankfully, by the time she returned to her car, the older man had gone back into his house. This trip would be a little tougher. Four bags of food and the pie wrapped in aluminum foil. Luckily she’d used her sturdy handled grocery bags. She arranged two bags per shoulder and carried the pie. Oh, she almost forgot. She’d bought two homemade jars of jelly from the craft bazaar. She snagged that plastic bag, hooking it around her wrist. She felt a little like a packhorse, sh
oulders aching, hip protesting, but she carried on.

  Almost there, you got this, ignore the pain, ignore the cold.

  She reached the front path to the Harpers’ home and looked up as she walked, the lights were on in their apartment. It made her smile thinking of the joy on the kids’ faces when they saw all this Christmas cheer—

  “Ah!” She tripped on the uneven sidewalk. The pie flew from her hands, the jars of jelly slipped out of the bag to the sidewalk with a crash, and she fell sideways on top of the food bags, no doubt squishing the homemade cheese popovers. She shifted off the bags and just sat there on the cold sidewalk, surveying the broken glass, the ruined pie, and the goopy red and blue jelly splattered everywhere. The kids would’ve loved that strawberry and blueberry jelly, their favorites, for their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. It was the little things that made kids feel secure. Her throat tightened. She’d wanted that so much for them.

  She lifted her head to the sky, fighting back tears. This day had been hell and she suddenly wished she had some help. None of this would’ve happened if she’d only called Lexi or Sabrina for a ride. They lived just down the hall. Or she could’ve called Lily or Nico, who lived in town, to help with all of the bags. At the very least she could’ve borrowed someone’s car. She’d done it all herself, just like always, and now she was cold, tired, sore and about to have the mother of all breakdowns. Everything hurt, everything sucked, everything was just too damn hard.

  A hot tear leaked out and she wiped it away. No. She was stronger than that. This was a delay not a failure. She just needed to empty a bag to get rid of the glass safely, then she’d clean up the mess, and they’d still have their Christmas dinner. The kids needed to know that even without their dad in the picture, even in a new place with very little money, they could still enjoy Christmas. How she wished she’d had someone to make that happen for her as a kid after her parents died. Her aunt couldn’t have cared less about Missy’s Christmas or anything else for that matter. She got to work, reorganizing the bags, and then carefully picked up the broken glass and put it in the empty bag.

  She walked back to the house where her car was parked, put the bag of broken glass in the trunk of her car, and then knocked on the door of the older man who’d tried to be helpful earlier.

  He answered the door with a smile. “I thought you’d be back with this weather. Thirty degrees gets into your bones. You want a ride home now?”

  “No, thanks. I was hoping for a roll of paper towels and a garbage bag. I dropped some jars of jelly and a pie a few blocks away.”

  He gave her a strange look but told her he’d get them.

  Time was ticking away as she rushed back to the Harpers’ place. She was sure any minute someone would notice all the bags and boxes she’d left on the porch and front walk. She got there just as a young woman was peering down at the pie and jelly mess.

  “That’s mine,” Missy called. “Sorry, I’ll clean up and clear this out. I’m on my way to visit a friend upstairs.”

  The woman nodded and went back inside.

  She squatted on the sidewalk, cleaning up as best she could. She’d take a hose to it later after the festivities. Her hip was screaming in pain, but it had to be done. It just wouldn’t do to leave a mess out here. Finally she was done, wiping her hands as best she could before gathering the decorations and buzzing Rena’s apartment.

  “Hi, it’s Missy.”

  “Come on up.”

  She balanced the boxes on her non-injured hip while she opened the door and made her way up to the third floor. She knocked and the door swung open a moment later to a beaming Rena. Her dark brown hair was short now in a cute pixie cut. She wore a red sweater with jeans, looking comfortable and happy.

  “Merry Christmas!” Missy exclaimed. “I brought some decorations. I wasn’t sure if you’d brought much with you.” Everyone knew they’d left with only one bag each of personal belongings.

  “Oh, how nice. Here, let me help you with that.” Rena took one of the boxes before Missy could protest.

  She walked in to a cozy scene, a fire crackling in the fireplace, the scent of pine and fresh-baked cookies in the air. They had a scraggly Christmas tree in the corner decorated with candy canes, red and green construction paper chains, and silver tinsel. The kids were gathered around the coffee table, industriously cutting folded white paper into snowflakes.

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “That looks fun.”

  The boys ran over, showing off their snowflakes. “Aren’t they awesome?” Todd asked. “We’re going to put them on the tree next.”

  Will chimed in. “You can get really tricky, cutting in just the right place to make a surprise hole in the middle.”

  “Cool,” she said.

  Madelyn smiled, shaking her head. “It’s not a surprise after the first time.”

  A timer dinged in the galley kitchen. Rena smiled. “Oh, that’s our snickerdoodles. Just be a minute.”

  Missy left the decorations by the tree, thinking she’d probably brought too many. The tree was pretty well covered already, and they had snowflakes to add too.

  She followed Rena to the kitchen, where the sight and smell of snickerdoodles made her stomach growl. A pang of pure longing went through her at this beautiful scene of family togetherness. “You really brought the Christmas cheer, Rena.”

  Rena took her potholders off and leaned close, speaking under her breath, “I wasn’t sure how our first Christmas on our own would go, but the kids are happier than ever. They feel safe here. And they’re resilient, you know? Their world was rocked and they carried on.” She looked lovingly over at her children. “I never had time to do this kind of thing with them before, simple things like teaching them to make paper snowflakes. I was always so busy with all the kids’ activities. I was more like a chauffeur and we barely had time to sit down to a meal together. Now we can’t afford all those extras, but you know what? It taught us how to be a family again.”

  Missy couldn’t speak for a moment, her throat tight, eyes burning with tears, heart pounding.

  “Mom, help!” Will hollered, holding up his snowflake.

  Rena walked over, and Missy just stared at the simple beauty of a mom helping her son make a snowflake. Rena’s words stuck in her mind: Their world was rocked and they carried on. Missy’s world had been rocked many, many times and she’d carried on too. She’d fought so hard and struggled so much, and she never gave herself credit for that. She was resilient. If her world was rocked again, she could carry on too.

  She let out a breath, the ache in her heart easing. She could take a chance on Ben. He’d screwed up, but she had too, kissing him at the office, and he’d let it go. He’d apologized sincerely, there were no more secrets between them, and he might be willing to try again. She ran a shaking hand through her hair, both euphoric and terrified at the idea. What if it was too late?

  Rena looked over. “Would you like to join us, Missy? Or I could make you some tea and you could just relax on the sofa.”

  Crap. She’d left all the food and presents outside. “I’ll be right back,” she said. “I left something downstairs.”

  She raced out the door, hurrying down the stairs, hoping everything was still where she’d left it. She burst through the front door. Oh, thank goodness. She went for the bags of food first when a familiar masculine voice said in a wry tone, “Looks like a paintball war. I’d say red won.” He meant the jelly stains on the sidewalk.

  Heart in her throat, she lifted her gaze to find Ben standing at the end of the front walk in a green velvet coat with a matching green velvet elf hat, holding a brown paper bag. He was here because of her, she knew it, and that meant he hadn’t given up on her. Her pulse raced, heat stealing through her body despite the cold, all of her suddenly electrically alive.

  His dimples appeared and her heart squeezed. “I thought we could make sugar cookies. I brought the cookie cutters I used as a kid and sprinkles.”

  She slowly set the bags d
own and closed the distance between them on shaky legs. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “My grandmother knows the Harpers. I wanted to help.” He got serious. “I wanted you.”

  Words deserted her. She was trembling, hot tears stinging her eyes. He set his bag down and pulled her in for a hug, surrounding her with radiant love. Her body calmed as she snuggled into his warmth.

  She looked up at him. “I forgive you. I want to try again, okay?”

  “Thank God.” He cupped her jaw, leaned down and kissed her. “Yes, yes, and yes.”

  A sound like someone tapping on glass reached them. Ben looked up and smiled. “We have an audience.”

  The kids were pressed against the glass, pointing at Ben and exclaiming excitedly.

  “You do make a jolly elf,” Missy said.

  “I learned from the best,” he teased. “This should be our Christmas tradition. Elfing on Christmas Eve.”

  “Elfing, huh? Sounds dirty.”

  He chuckled, pulled an elf hat from his back pocket and placed it on her head. “Perfect,” he proclaimed. He looked around at the bags and the stuff on the porch. “Is all this stuff yours?”

  “Yeah, I’ll get it.” She gathered all the bags of food. “It’s for the Harpers.” She straightened to find Ben already holding the huge bag of presents. “You don’t have to carry that.”

  “I’ve got one measly bag of cookie stuff. Let me carry it.”

  She frowned and picked up the wrapped frame still in its plastic bag on the porch.

  He closed the distance between them. “What’s with the frowning? What’re all these muscles for if not to carry stuff?”

  She stared at him. “You understand I don’t need that? It might take me two trips, but I can get it all upstairs by myself.”

  He searched her eyes for a moment. “Are you saying I can relax and let you take care of everything by yourself?”