Head bowed, shoulders slumped, Holly couldn’t have been more clear in her desolation. Well, Joy knew just how she felt. Taking the little girl’s hand, she gave it a squeeze and said, “Let’s go home, sweetie.”
They headed out the front door, and Joy didn’t look back. She couldn’t. For the first time in days, the sun was out, and the only clouds in the sky were big and white and looked as soft and fluffy as Santa’s beard. The pines were covered in snow, and the bare branches of the aspens and birches looked like they’d been decorated with lace as the snow lay on every tiny twig. It was magical. Beautiful.
And Joy took no pleasure in any of it.
Holly hopped into her car seat and buckled herself in while Joy did a quick check of everything stuffed into the car. Their tiny tree was in the backseat and their suitcases in the trunk. Holly sat there glowering at the world in general, and Joy sighed because she knew her darling daughter was going to make her life a living hell for the next few days at least.
“That’s it then,” Joy said, forcing a smile as she turned to look at Sam. He wore that black leather jacket, and his jeans were faded and stacked on the toes of his battered work boots. His hair was too long, his white long-sleeved shirt was open at the neck, and his brown eyes pinned her with an intensity that stole her breath.
“Drive safely.”
“That’s all you’ve got?” she asked, tipping her head to one side to study him.
“What is there left to say?” he countered. “Didn’t we get it all said a few days ago?”
“Not nearly, but you still don’t understand that, do you?” He stood on his drive with the well-lit splendor of his house behind him. In the front window, the Christmas tree they’d decorated together shone in a fiery blaze of color, and behind her, she knew, there were fairy lights shining at the edge of the woods.
She looked up at him, then moved in closer. He didn’t move, just locked his gaze with hers as she approached. When she was close enough, she cupped his cheeks in her palms and said softly, “We would have been good for you, Sam. I would have been. You and I could have been happy together. We could have built something that most people only dream about.” She went up on her toes, kissed his grim, unyielding mouth, then looked at him again. “I want you to remember something. When you lost your family there was nothing you could do about it. This time, it’s your choice. You’re losing and you’re letting it happen.”
His mouth tightened, his eyes flashed, but he didn’t speak, and Joy knew it was over.
“I’m sorry for you,” she said, “that you’re allowing your own pain to swallow your life.”
Before he could tell her to mind her own business, she turned and walked to the car. With Holly loudly complaining, she fired up the engine, put it in gear and drove away from Sam Henry and all the might-have-beens that would drive her crazy for the rest of her life.
* * *
For the next few days, Sam settled back into what his life was like pre-Joy and Holly. He worked on his secret project—that didn’t really need to be a secret anymore, because he always finished what he started. He called his mother to check in because he should—but when she asked about Joy and Holly, he evaded, not wanting to talk about them any more than he wanted to think about them.
He tried to put the two females out of his mind, but how could he when he sensed Joy in every damn corner of his house?
In Kaye’s suite, Joy’s scent still lingered in the air. But the rooms were empty now. No toys, no stuffed dog. Joy’s silky red robe wasn’t hanging on the back of the door, and that pitiful excuse for a Christmas tree was gone as if it had never been there at all.
Every night, he sat in the great room in front of the fire and looked at the tree in the window. That it was there amazed him. Thinking about the night he and Joy and Holly had decorated it depressed him. For so many years, he’d avoided all mention of Christmas because he hadn’t wanted to remember.
Now, though, he did want to. He relived every moment of the time Joy and Holly had been a part of his life. But mostly, he recalled the afternoon they had left him. He remembered Holly waving goodbye out the rear window of her mother’s car. He remembered the look in Joy’s eyes when she kissed him and told him that he was making a mistake by letting her go. And he particularly remembered Joy’s laugh, her smile, the taste of her mouth and the feel of her arms around him when he was inside her.
Her image remained uppermost in his mind as if she’d been carved there. He couldn’t shake it and didn’t really want to. Remembering was all he had. The house was too damn quiet. Hell, he spent every day and most of the night out in the workshop just to avoid the suffocating silence. But it was no better out there because a part of him kept waiting for Holly to rush in, do one of her amazing monologues and climb up on the stool beside him.
When he was working, he found himself looking at the house, half expecting to see Joy in one of the windows, smiling at him. And every time he didn’t, another piece of him died. He’d thought that he could go back to his old life once they were gone. Slide back into the shadows, become again the man fate had made him. But that hadn’t happened and now, he realized, it never could.
He wasn’t the same man because of Joy. Because she had brought him back to life. Awakened him after too many years spent in a self-made prison.
“So what the hell are you going to do about it?” he muttered, hating the way his voice echoed in the vast room. He picked up his beer, took a long drink and glared at the glittering Christmas tree. The night they’d decorated it flooded his mind.
Holly laughing, a fresh row of stitches on her forehead to remind him just how fear for her had brought him to his knees. Joy standing back and telling him where lights were missing. The three of them eating more candy canes than they hung and finally, Holly falling asleep, not knowing that he was going to screw everything up.
He pushed up out of the chair, walked to the tree and looked beyond it, to the lights in the fairy houses outside. There were pieces of both of them all over this place, he thought. There was no escaping the memories this time, even if he wanted to.
Turning, he looked around the room and felt the solitude press in on him. The immense room felt claustrophobic. Joy should be here with him, drinking wine and eating “winter” cookies. Holly should be calling for a drink of water and trying to stay up a little later.
“Instead,” he muttered, like the hermit he was, “you’re alone with your memories.”
Joy was right, he told himself. Fate had cheated him once, stealing away those he loved best. But he’d done it to himself this time. He’d taken his second chance and thrown it away because he was too afraid to grab on and never let go. He thought about all he’d lost—all he was about to lose—and had to ask himself if pain was really all he had. Was that what he’d become? A man devoted to keeping his misery alive and well no matter the cost?
He put his beer down, stalked out of the room and headed for the workshop. “Damned if it is.”
* * *
Christmas morning dawned with a soft snow falling, turning the world outside the tiny house in Franklin into a postcard.
The small, bent-over tree stood on a table in the living room, and even the multiple strings of lights it boasted couldn’t make it a quarter as majestic as the tree they’d left behind in Sam’s great room. But this one, Joy assured herself, was theirs. Hers and Holly’s. And that made it perfect. They didn’t need the big tree. Or the lovely house. Or Sam. They had each other and that was enough.
It just didn’t feel like enough anymore. Giving herself a mental kick for even thinking those words, Joy pushed thoughts of Sam out of her mind. No small task since the last four or five days had been a study in loneliness. Holly was sad, Joy was miserable, and even the approach of Christmas hadn’t been enough to lift the pall that hung over them both.
Deb
had tried to cheer her, telling her that everything happened for a reason, but really? When the reason was a stubborn, foolish man too blind to see what he was giving up, what comfort was there?
Ignoring the cold hard stone settled around her heart, Joy forced a smile and asked, “Do you want to go outside, sweetie? Try out your new sled?”
Holly sat amid a sea of torn wrapping paper, its festive colors and bold ribbons making it look as though the presents had exploded rather than been opened. Her blond hair was loose, and her pink princess nightgown was tucked up around her knees as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the rubble.
She turned big blue eyes on Joy and said, “No, Mommy, I don’t want to right now.”
“Really?” Joy was trying to make Christmas good for her daughter, but the little girl missed Sam as much as Joy did, so it was an uphill battle. But they had to get used to being without him, didn’t they? He’d made his choice. He’d let them go, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since.
Apparently Sam Henry had found a way to go on, and so would she and Holly. “Well, how about we watch your favorite princess movie and drink some hot chocolate?”
“Okay...” The lack of enthusiasm in that word told Joy that Holly was only agreeing to please her mother.
God, she was a terrible person. She’s the one who had allowed Holly to get too close to Sam in the hopes of reaching him. She had seen her daughter falling in love and hadn’t done enough to stop it. She’d been too caught up in the sweetness of Holly choosing her own father to prepare either of them for the time when it all came crashing down on them.
Still, she had to try to reach her baby girl. Ease the pain, help her to enjoy Christmas morning.
“Are you upset because Santa couldn’t bring you the puppy you wanted? Santa left you the note,” Joy said, mentally thanking Sam for at least coming up with that brilliant idea. “He’ll bring you a puppy as soon as he’s old enough.”
“It’s okay. I can play with Lizzie’s puppy.” Holly got up, walked to her mother and crawled into her lap. Leaning her head against Joy’s chest, she sighed heavily. “I want to go see Sam.”
Joy’s heart gave one hard lurch as everything in her yearned for the same thing. “Oh, honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Sure it is.” Holly turned in her lap, looked up into her eyes and said softly, “He misses me, Mommy. It’s Christmas and he’s all by himself and lonely and probably crabby some more cuz we’re not there to make him smile and help him with the fairy houses. He needs us. And we belong with Sam. It’s Christmas and we should be there.”
Her baby girl looked so calm, so serious, so sure of everything. The last few days hadn’t been easy. They’d slipped back into their old life, but it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same anymore. They were a family as they’d always been, but now it felt as if someone was missing.
She’d left Sam to protect Holly. But keeping her away from the man she considered her father wasn’t helping her either. It was a fine line to walk, Joy knew. She smoothed Holly’s hair back from her face and realized her baby girl was right.
Sam had let them leave, but it was Joy who had packed up and walked out. Neither of them had fought for what they wanted, so maybe it was time to make a stand. Time to let him know that he could try to toss them aside all he wanted—but they weren’t going to go.
“You’re right, baby, he does need us. And we need him.” Giving Holly a quick, hard kiss, she grinned and said, “Let’s get dressed.”
* * *
Sam heard the car pull into the drive, looked out the window and felt his heart jump to life. How was that for timing? He’d just been getting into his coat to drive into Franklin and bring his girls home. He felt like Ebenezer Scrooge when he woke up on Christmas morning and realized he hadn’t missed it. Hadn’t lost his last chance at happiness.
He hit the front door at a dead run and made it to the car before Joy had turned off the engine. Snow was falling, he was freezing, but he didn’t give a good damn. Suddenly everything in his world had righted itself. And this time, he was going to grab hold of what was most important and never let it go again.
“Sam! Sam! Hi, Sam!” Holly’s voice, hitting that high note, sounded like the sweetest song to him.
“Hi, Holly!” he called back, and while the little girl got herself out of her seat belt, he threw open the driver’s door and pulled Joy out. “Hi,” he said, letting his gaze sweep over her features before focusing back on the eyes that had haunted him from the first moment they met.
“Hi, Sam. Merry Christmas.” She cupped his cheek in her palm, and her touch melted away the last of the ice encasing his heart.
“I missed you, damn it,” he muttered and bent to kiss her. That first taste of her settled everything inside him, brought the world back into focus and let him know that he was alive. And grateful.
“We’re back!” Holly raced around the car, threw herself at Sam’s legs and held on.
Breaking the kiss, he grinned down at the little girl and then reached down to pick her up. Holding her tight, he looked into bright eyes and then spun her in circles until she squealed in delight. “You’re back. Merry Christmas, Holly.”
She hugged his neck tightly and kissed his cheek with all the ferocity of a five-year-old’s love. “Merry Christmas!”
“Come on, you two. It’s cold out here.” He carried Holly and followed behind Joy as she walked into the house and then turned for the great room. “I’ve got a couple surprises for you two.”
“For Christmas?” Holly gave him a squeeze, then as she saw what was waiting for her, breathed, “Oh my goodness!” That quick gasp was followed by another squeal, this one higher than the one before. She squirmed to get out of Sam’s arms, then raced across the room to the oversize fairy castle dollhouse sitting in front of the tree.
Beside him, Sam heard Joy give a soft sigh. When he looked at her, there were tears in her eyes and a beautiful smile on her amazing mouth. His heart gave another hard lurch, and he welcomed it. For the last few days, he’d felt dead inside. Coming back to life was much better.
“You made that for her.”
He looked to where the girl he already considered his daughter was exploring the castle he’d built for her. It was red, with turrets and towers, tiny flags flying from the points of those towers. Glass windows opened and closed, and wide double doors swung open. The back of the castle was open for small fingers to explore and redecorate and dream.
“Yeah,” he said. “Holly needed a fairy house she could actually play with. I’m thinking this summer we might need to build a tree house, too.”
“This summer?” Joy’s words were soft, the question hanging in the air between them.
“I’ve got plans,” he said. “And so much to tell you. Ask you.”
Her eyes went soft and dreamy and as he watched, they filled with a sheen of tears he really hoped she wouldn’t let fall.
“I can’t believe you made that for Holly,” Joy said, smiling at her daughter’s excitement. “She loves it.”
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Sam confessed, turning her in his arms so he could hold her, touch her, look into her eyes. Sliding his hands up her arms, over her shoulders to her face, his palms cradled her as his thumbs stroked gently over her soft, smooth skin. “I was coming to you.”
“You were?” Wonder, hope lit her eyes, and Sam knew he hadn’t blown it entirely. He hadn’t let this last best chance at love slip past him.
“You arrived just as I was headed to the garage. I was going to bring you back here to give you your presents. Here. In our home.”
Her breath caught and she lifted one hand to her mouth. “Our home?”
“If you’ll stay,” he said. “Stay with me. Love me. Marry me.”
“Oh, Sam...”
; “Don’t answer yet,” he said, grinning now as he took her hand and pulled her over to the brightly lit Christmas tree. “Just wait. There’s more.” Then to the little girl, he said, “There’s another present for you, Holly. I think Santa stopped off here last night.”
“He did?” Holly’s eyes went wide as saucers as her smile danced in her eyes. “What did he bring?”
“Open it and find out,” he said and pointed to a big white box with a red ribbon.
“How come it has holes in the top?” Holly asked.
“You’ll see.”
Joy already guessed it. She squeezed Sam’s hand as they watched Holly carefully lift off the lid of the box and peer inside. “Oh my goodness!”
The little girl looked up at Sam. “He’s for me?”
“She is. It’s a girl.”
Holly laughed in delight then reached into the box and lifted out a golden retriever puppy. Its fur was white and soft, and Holly buried her face against that softness, whispering and laughing as the puppy eagerly licked her face. “Elsa. I’m gonna name her Elsa,” Holly proclaimed and laid out on the floor so her new best friend could jump all over her in wild abandon.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Joy said, shaking her head and smiling through her tears. “Where did you find a white puppy? I looked everywhere.”
Sam shrugged and gave her a half smile. “My sister knew a breeder and, well... I chartered a jet and flew out to Boston to pick her up two days ago.”
“Boston.” Joy blinked at him. “You flew to Boston to pick up a Christmas puppy so my little girl wouldn’t be disappointed.”
“Our little girl,” he corrected. “I love her, Joy. Like she’s my own. And if you’ll let me, I’ll adopt her.”
“Oh my God...” Joy bit down hard on her bottom lip and gave up the battle to stem her tears. They coursed down her cheeks in silvery rivers that only made her smile shine more brightly.
“Is that a yes?”
Maid Under the Mistletoe Page 15