The Twelve Gifts of Christmas

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The Twelve Gifts of Christmas Page 13

by Rita Clay Estrada


  She nodded. “Maybe so, I don’t know. But I do know that if I don’t take a risk trying for the brass ring, I’ll never have a chance at it. It certainly won’t fall in my lap. Your problem is that you failed even before you began. You’re unwilling to take the chance of loving for fear of getting hurt.”

  “More pop psychology?”

  She refused to apologize. Instead, she looked him in the eye. “Yes.”

  “Sorry. But I’ve had the best psychiatrists sit at my table and they can’t figure me out, so why should you be able to see everything so clearly?”

  “Because they didn’t love you. I do.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure you have, but not from me. Others might love you in a tuxedo. I love you in sweats. Others love you when you’re kind and generous. I love you all the time.” Silence filled the car until she thought she could hear the crackle of the electricity between them.

  The limousine pulled off the freeway and onto a side street. They were only a few blocks away from her home. Pete leaned forward, pushed a button and spoke quietly to the driver. “Miss Michaels will be going home first tonight, Jack.”

  The driver’s gaze darted to the rearview mirror. “Yes, sir.”

  More silence. Carly sat quietly, dry-eyed and certain that she had done the right thing.

  The car pulled into her driveway and slowed to a halt. Pete stared out his window, refusing to acknowledge her leaving the car. The driver got out and stood by her door but made no effort to open it. Apparently he knew they still had something to say.

  The driver was right.

  She’d decided she wouldn’t leave without letting Pete know that he was loved.

  “I’ll miss you all the time. I’ll hope that you’ll change your mind and call me, even though I know better. But most of all—” she placed her hand on his black-clad arm “—I’ll know that I told you I love you and that it was your decision to end this relationship.”

  He stared at the hand on his arm, then at her. “Is this where the tears begin?”

  “No. This is where I tell you that I understand this isn’t working. I’m crazy about a man who can’t let go of the past, refuses to enjoy anything but the present and who has no future in my life. So, I guess this is the end of our, our...”

  “Relationship?” he supplied, his cold tone freezing her all the way down to her toes.

  “Business relationship,” she corrected. “We can’t call it anything more, can we?

  “And now I’m the big bad wolf because I told you in advance that I wasn’t interested in anything other than our present arrangement? Or should I be at fault because you didn’t get me to change my mind and fall in love with you?”

  Carly’s shoulders slumped. “Neither. I’m not mad at you. It’s not your fault I did what I did. But I want to ask one small favor of you.”

  “Ask away. I have the right to refuse.”

  She took a deep breath. “I’d appreciate it if you would treat me with the respect of a friend. If and when we meet, I would love to have a hug and hear how you’re doing and what’s going on in your life.”

  His brows rose in disbelief. “Are you a masochist?”

  “No. But why harbor ill feelings? McLean has that small-town atmosphere. Look how often we’ve run into each other already. Let’s leave this relationship with what we came in with—mutual respect and a fondness for each other.”

  He still didn’t quite believe her. “You’ll be okay with this?”

  “As good as I’m going to be. I liked you before I loved you, Pete. Doesn’t that count toward friendship?”

  His finger came up and traced her full lips. “Damn, lady. If you don’t beat all.”

  She smiled. “I know I do. You’re the one who doesn’t understand what you’re giving up.”

  “Oh, yes, I do.” There was such a depth of sadness in his voice. Her heart almost broke, hearing it.

  Her hand tightened on the door handle. “Merry Christmas, darling, and a happy life.”

  The door opened.

  “You’re crazy.” His voice was low and raspy and angry.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll never love you.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Where’s the anger? The resentment?” he demanded. “There was jealousy before, so there should be something left of that.”

  “That wasn’t jealousy, that was pride. You were with me, so you needed to treat me with the respect due your escort.”

  Pete’s groan was barely audible. “For that alone, you should hate me.”

  “I feel sorry for you,” she countered. “With the high walls you’ve built up around you, you’ll never know more than a surface kind of love. It’s a sad and lonely way to spend the rest of your life.”

  “Don’t bet on it, Carly. There are plenty of women out there who would enjoy such a relationship.”

  Carly leaned forward and placed a soft, gentle kiss on his cheek. Her eyes were bright with love. “Goodbye, Pete. I wish you better than that.”

  “Goodbye, Carly.”

  With the driver’s help she got out of the car and walked up the steps to the door. The car door shut with a definitive click, but she didn’t look back to see them drive off. Being brave was enough; she didn’t need to rub salt in her wounds.

  By the time she opened the door and stepped inside, she could hear the engine purring its way down the drive toward the street.

  With a calm Carly didn’t feel, she moved through the main floor, checking to make sure everything was all right. Then she walked up the stairs and approached her daughter’s bed.

  Karen was curled into a ball, her blanketed rump in the air.

  Carly undressed, then slipped between the chilly sheets of her bed and lay motionless.

  Still no tears.

  Perhaps she was deluding herself. Perhaps she was afraid to look at the reality of her love. But it didn’t matter. If Pete didn’t want to be a part of her life, there was nothing she could do to bring him back.

  So, with slow precision, she began building a brick wall around her heart, preserving her love for Pete inside. It was the only answer to her emotional survival.

  * * *

  “HI, KIDS, IT’S YOUR DAD. I know you’re probably having a great time in Hawaii and are very busy, but I just wanted to let you know how much I love you. Call me when you get this message, okay? Bye, guys. Give each other a hug from me.”

  10

  THE SHOPS IN AND AROUND Washington, D.C., were festively decorated for the Christmas season. The newspapers also reflected the season: along with all the ads growing bigger, bolder and brighter, the social columns ran longer, filled with parties from one end of the tristate area to the other.

  Carly was aware of the gossip columns because her aunts kept her apprised of the various social events that listed “your gentleman friend, Peter Cade,” as attending.

  Rather than explain why she wasn’t seeing him anymore, Carly told them that she was too busy with Karen’s schedule and the last week of teaching to be their neighbor’s escort.

  That had truly been the case. She’d kept herself so busy, there was no chance to dwell on Pete—until nighttime. After Karen was in bed and the house was quiet, Carly would slip in a compact disk of sentimental songs and remember the good times she’d had with Pete. How his wry brand of humor had touched her funny bone. How his caring ways during their dates had made her feel so special. How the way he made love pushed every button in her heart and soul. But most of all, how they could discuss any topic, argue any cause, agree by degrees on any issue, and still consider themselves best friends.

  When she wasn’t sitting in the dark thinking about him, she was dreaming of him. In her sleep, he returned and told her just how wrong he’d been to leave her. He should have stayed and made the relationship work. He should have told her he loved her. He should have taken more time with Karen. He should have proposed....

  It was
usually at that time that she awoke, heated and agitated. She needed to make love. She needed Pete. But she would only admit that problem to herself in the dark of night. She couldn’t afford the luxury of thinking about him by the light of day because then she’d surely go crazy.

  For Karen’s sake, she couldn’t do that.

  Whatever had scared Pete and made him afraid to love was his problem to deal with now. If he wanted to open up enough to have a loving relationship, he would find a way to do so. A small spark of hope buried deep inside her prayed that he would, but she really knew better. Carly had no choice in the matters of his heart.

  All she could do was love him.

  But a crazy, impulsive idea popped into her head. Despite his protests, she knew Christmas was a painful time for Pete. With a desire to remind him that Christmas wasn’t such a bad season, she called an all-night florist and ordered a bright spring bouquet to be delivered to his house in the morning.

  He had probably given enough of them in his life, but she’d bet he hadn’t received too many.

  She hoped he liked them....

  * * *

  NAKED, PETE WANDERED through his dark house, pretending he wasn’t drawn to the back windows every five minutes to check the night view. But he knew what he was looking for—Carly taking a walk in the woods late at night to sit on “their” bench.

  If he did see her out there, he wasn’t sure if he had enough willpower to stay away. God! He missed her.

  She’d been on his mind every waking hour since last week, when he’d finally driven her away with his uncaring attitude. He’d done it on purpose, even as he’d secretly hoped she wouldn’t leave. And he still hoped. It was this damn season, he told himself. When it was over, he’d lighten up.

  “Nothing like shooting yourself in the foot, Cade,” he muttered to the warm, quiet house. “And if that wasn’t enough, you punished yourself even more by shooting your other foot.”

  But the house didn’t care. It didn’t answer back. And as big and spacious as it was, it was filled to overflowing with the ghost of Carly. Everywhere he turned there was a memory of Carly, laughing, resting, reading, talking, and even crying. There were memories of making love to her in various rooms of the house.

  Unfair! his mind cried, but he knew better. Those memories were his punishment for hurting her so badly. He could have done it differently, but for the life of him he didn’t know how. He’d hacked at her feelings with dull blades of words until he was sure anything she felt for him was dead.

  She’d just turned the other cheek.

  This afternoon the florist had delivered a huge bouquet of spring flowers along with a note. The note was classic.

  Thank you for all the good times we shared. I appreciate them. I hope these help you stay cheerful through the season.

  Love, Carly

  Since he’d received them he hadn’t thought of anything but Carly.

  And with every thought he became angrier. How dare she invade his thoughts! How dare she take over his every waking moment! And all with a cheap trick. Hell, he sent flowers to every Susie and Jane he knew, usually to get what he wanted. But not once, ever, had a woman sent him flowers.

  Until Carly.

  The grandfather clock in his study pealed the hour, one dong at a time. It was ten o’clock. Walking to the phone, he dialed her number.

  When Pete heard her voice, he almost lost his. He cleared his throat. “I got your flowers today. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Her voice was warm and sweet and wonderful.

  “You shouldn’t have spent that much.”

  “It’s the least I could do to let you know I’m thankful for the three beautiful dresses in my closet as well as the good times you gave me.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Are you all right?” Her voice flowed like liquid honey over his raw nerves. Her honest concern soothed the hurt and anger he’d felt all evening.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Pete, don’t let the Christmas season get you down.”

  “I won’t. It’s just a lousy time, that’s all.”

  “Then change it. Go find what it is you need to make you happy during this season.”

  “I can’t,” he answered curtly. “Anyway, thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome. Again.”

  “Goodbye.”

  He hung up the phone and closed his eyes tightly. She was so sweet, so full of care and concern. And dignity. No request to get back together, no hints of picking up where they left off. Just a hand extended in friendship. It messed up his mind and body.

  Pete continued his prowling through the house until the wee hours of the morning, when he fell asleep on the couch with an afghan thrown over him. When he awoke the next morning, there was someone banging on his door. He cursed, wrapped the Afghan around his middle and went to answer it.

  “Yes?” he barked.

  A young man stood in the doorway wearing a uniform with a patch that said We Deliver Anything. “Sweet delivery, sir,” he stammered, looking Pete up and down. He held out a package like a peace offering.

  “I didn’t order anything.”

  “I know. Someone ordered it for you.” The kid backed away quickly, edging toward a rainbow-painted van.

  Pete patted his pocket, then realized he didn’t have pants on. “Wait, I’ll have to find my wallet.”

  “No problem. I’ll catch you next time, sir.”

  He was in the van before Pete could close the front door.

  He went into the living room, allowing the afghan to drop as he walked. The package had all his attention. Stepping around the oak cocktail table dominated by Carly’s flowers, he plopped down on the sofa, tore off the small envelope and read it.

  He should have known.

  This is for your sweet tooth late at night. Have a wonderful and very Merry Christmas.

  Carly

  “Damn her,” he muttered. He’d thought of nothing all night except Carly Michaels, and by this morning he believed he’d finally begun to understand her behavior. Pete had decided that she’d sent the flowers to let him know everything was fine between them. That she had no other motive.

  Now he wasn’t sure.

  Was she trying to woo him in a way he just wasn’t familiar with? Was she trying to buy him back?

  Since no one was around but him, he spoke aloud: “With flowers and candy that you could buy with pocket change, Cade? Get real!”

  No, deep down he knew better. Carly had always been thoughtful and considerate of his feelings—far more than he had been of hers. This was just one more thing that underlined that fact.

  He went to the phone and dialed her number. When the answering machine picked up and the message finished, he spoke.

  “I got the candy and I want to thank you. But the flowers were enough. Really. Thanks again, friend,” he said to remind himself more than Carly just what their relationship was.

  The call was just what he needed to do. Now his conscience was clear; he’d done the right thing for Carly.

  He opened the box, chose a caramel and bit into the candy. It was chewy and the taste was sweet, but it didn’t stop the loneliness he felt.

  He told himself that he needed his children, but his heart told him that he also needed a woman’s love.

  Bull.

  * * *

  WHEN PETE DROVE INTO his driveway the next day, he was physically and emotionally spent. He’d had little sleep the night before and had put in a hectic day.

  The tiredness that comes with not sleeping for two nights had finally caught up with him. He barely kept his eyes open as he drove into the four-car garage. He dragged his feet as he walked through the enclosed breezeway into the kitchen.

  With an arm that felt as if he’d been lifting hundred-pound weights, he threw his overcoat and suit jacket over the kitchen chair. The maid had cleaned thoroughly and the house was immaculate, thank goodness.

  He tugged at his tie until it hung d
own the front of his shirt, made his way to the living-room wet bar and poured a splash of brandy into a crystal snifter. After swirling it around to give it a little warmth, he sipped at the golden liquid.

  He could fix something to eat.

  He could start a fire.

  He could call the kids again and see if they were home yet. When he’d called this morning, they were still asleep. By the time they were awake and eating breakfast, he was in a meeting that lasted over four hours.

  Damn, he missed them. He had a sneaking suspicion that if he prodded them, his daughter and stepson would say they missed him too.

  But the bottom line was that they wouldn’t be here this Christmas. And Pete could barely afford to spend a day or two there. His schedule had become overrun with meetings. He tried to delegate some of his workload, but it had been a part of his life for so long that he couldn’t imagine not dealing with the responsibilities himself.

  He swirled his brandy as he headed up the stairs. Exhaustion was quickly overwhelming him. Just as he reached the top, the back doorbell rang. Cursing under his breath, he debated whether or not to answer. Duty won and he finally returned downstairs and to the kitchen, grumbling all the way.

  When he opened the door, a bundled-up Karen stood there, her red-mittened hands holding out a large envelope. “Hi, Mr. Cade. Mom said I was to give this to you and tell you that you really need to smile.” She cocked her stockinged head and peered up at him. “Are you still sad?”

  Pete stared into the large, childish eyes and wondered how to cope with a little girl’s questions. Honestly, an inner voice told him, and he followed that advice. “Yes, I guess I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s Christmas and I won’t be spending this time with my family like you will be with yours.”

  “That’s awful,” Karen admitted solemnly. “I’d be sad, too, if I couldn’t see my mom and dad.”

  “I know.”

  “Where’re your mom and dad?”

  “They died,” he answered.

  “Oh, that’s awful.” The little girl shook her head. “It’s a wonder you’re not crying alla time.”

  For the first time all day, he felt a smile tug at his mouth. “It is a wonder, isn’t it?”

 

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