by Karen Rock
He released a short breath that vibrated his lips. “Forgot about that.”
“When were you planning to tell me?”
James’s head jerked away from her accusing tone. “At the party.”
“When it’d be too late to stop it.”
His jaw tightened. “I thought it’d help. You said you never felt worthy because of him, and I hoped if he saw you again, things would change.”
Technically, he’d been right, but that didn’t excuse his high-handed actions.
“You went behind my back and took charge of my life, first telling Javi about my addiction and then bringing in my father.”
“You were never going to do it on your own.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to take over. I spent too much of my life being controlled, first by my dad, then by drugs, then my fears. I won’t live like that anymore. How can I trust you?”
“Trust?” He stared at her, eyes bulging, incredulous. “I can’t trust you, either. You invited the Lovelands without ever saying a word, when you knew I wouldn’t approve.”
“It’s your mother’s life. Not yours. Stop interfering. Stop trying to control her.”
“You invited in an outsider who’ll only break her heart.” Anger compressed his words into hard chips, slamming down on the counter between them. “She’s suffered enough and come too far for me to see her go backward again. You don’t know Boyd Loveland.”
“But I know Joy Cade. I trust her to make her own choices. So should you.”
He shook his head and shot her a bullish stare. “I should have taken control of the party from the start. We would have avoided this mess altogether.”
“You’d control everything if you could, even if it means ruining other people’s lives, like your mother’s?”
His chin jerked up and down.
“She deserves happiness,” Sofia fumed. “Only now she’s upstairs crying, miserable because she broke things off with Boyd because of you.”
“It’s for the best,” James said heavily, then lifted the can for another long swallow. “Trust me.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t trust anyone’s judgment but your own.”
“Tonight didn’t disprove that notion.”
“That’s hypocritical. You’re all over me for inviting the Lovelands, but not the least bit sorry for calling my father.”
His flinty expression gave nothing away.
“Are you still contesting Javi’s trusteeship?” she asked suddenly, the need to know right now, this instant, pounding urgently inside her.
When he dropped the can on the counter, it wobbled, tipped, then fell with a metallic ting. “Yes.”
The air rushed right out of her. After everything, she still wasn’t good enough, couldn’t prove herself to James. Well, she was done chasing after anyone’s good opinion. The only one that really counted was her own.
“Then it’s goodbye.”
He straightened his slouch and his face looked slapped blank. “Wait. What?”
“I can start the job at any time. Javi and I will leave in the morning.”
He’d lifted his hands and seemed to forget them in midair, trying to get his head together perhaps. “Tomorrow? Two weeks before Christmas?”
“It’s better not to drag this out, and Joy’s splint comes off tomorrow anyway. You don’t need me.”
“Don’t leave because of this,” he insisted, sounding winded, like he’d been sucker punched.
“I won’t be around someone who doesn’t believe in me, who’d rather control than trust me. That’s not possible for you, is it? Trust?”
They stared at each other for a charged moment. James opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn’t make it work. A few heartbeats later, his broad shoulders sagged. “No.”
Though she tried to stop them, tears of hurt welled. “Then please leave.”
The desire to say more was hot in her throat but she forced herself to remain quiet. Calm. Strong. Her self-control balanced on a fragile edge—dancing along a cliff. She could throw herself over it once he left.
She tilted her thumb at the door and his lips squeezed together so tightly they turned white. With a last, anguished look, he jerked himself around and marched stiffly outside.
A dead, empty space opened inside her and she was left gasping and paralyzed, watching the one thing she’d always wanted from the world—a family, a home, a love of her own—dissolve to dust and blow away.
She moved to the window and stared at the dark, wishing James back, yet knowing she couldn’t go forward if he did return. It cleaved her heart to let him go, but she’d learned too much, come too far, to be with a man who didn’t trust her completely.
She was worth more than that.
And ironically, it was James who’d taught her so.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A MINIATURE TRAIN trundled on tracks inside the dim living room. James watched it wind through the cluster of ceramic village homes Sofia and he had arranged weeks ago. It chugged around the ice skating pond and rattled past the Christmas tree farm.
Tendrils of warmth curled from the dying hearth fire and Clint stretched out on his back before it, front paws flung straight overhead, legs splayed and tail puffed to absorb every glimmer of heat. The flicker of light cast by the glowing hickory logs illuminated the figurine trio standing before one of the pines. A father, mother and child.
His throat tightened. Once he’d hoped that would be him, Sofia and Javi, but that dream died when she’d packed up and left two weeks ago without a goodbye.
How had everything gone so wrong?
It was Christmas Eve. He and Sofia should be tucking Javi’s presents under the tree, cuddling on the couch, whispering about their future. Just weeks ago, she’d kissed him tenderly on that sofa and the ground had opened, swallowed him, buried him in that unforgettable moment. Now she slept thousands of miles away in Portland, and he brooded here with nothing but his pride for company.
His heart moved sluggishly in his chest. Leaning forward, he picked up the trio, wishing it was Sofia he held. Touched.
Her accusations roared in his ears.
“You don’t believe in me,” she’d insisted.
But he did. Or he’d hoped to, until she’d let him down.
“You want to control me, not trust me.”
His fingers tightened around the ceramic family. She’d been right about that. After the party debacle, when he’d discovered she’d misled him and kept secrets, Jesse’s old hurts and betrayals rushed back, cutting him fresh and deep.
Now, with some time and perspective, he’d begun wondering if his urge to manage everyone stemmed from fear, not love. Bending others to his will, lashing out when they made different choices, mistrusting without proof weren’t the actions of a caring man.
He’d treated Jesse that way and lost him. Now the same had happened with Sofia and Javi. As for his mother, she’d taken to spending most of her time in her room again. His siblings barely spoke to him, though their accusing gazes said plenty.
They blamed him for Sofia’s departure.
And he did, too. It seemed like he was the common denominator in an equation he couldn’t solve, no matter how many ways he puzzled over it.
“You miss them.”
He jerked at the soft voice and whirled. “You’re up late.”
His mother tightened her pink robe’s belt. “I couldn’t sleep.”
A sigh escaped him. “Me, neither.”
“Want some warm milk?”
“Sure.” He padded after her into the kitchen.
Grabbing a stool, he sat at the counter and watched her pull a carton from the refrigerator. “Want cinnamon in it?”
“Sounds good.�
�� He toyed with a glass jar’s metallic fastener and studied the peanut butter blossom cookies piled inside. He recalled the salty sweet dough Sofia coaxed him into licking straight from the beaters and how they’d laughed like naughty children.
“What’s making you smile?” His mother shot him a sidelong glance before pouring the white liquid into a small saucepan and flicking on the heat.
“Nothing.”
Just Sofia’s gummy smile. The beauty mark on her left cheek. The crazy snort she made when she laughed hard.
Nothing at all...
“You miss her.”
“And Javi.” He flipped open the cookie jar and grabbed a couple of treats. “Want one?”
“No, thanks.” She plucked a wooden spoon from a holder and stirred the heating liquid.
“How’s the wrist?”
The spoon stilled, and she studied the faint pink scar. “Better. The physical therapist is happy.”
“What about you?”
She grabbed cinnamon from a cabinet and sprinkled some over the milk. The sweet, pungent scent pulled a sneeze out of her.
“I’ve been better.”
“Tomorrow’s Christmas and you haven’t put much out for presents besides the ones Sofia wrapped for you.”
His mother used to go to extravagant lengths to fill their stockings with unexpected items. Now they hung from the chimney like dead balloon animals.
She grabbed two mugs, set them on the counter and poured the milk. “Guess I’m not as much in the mood to celebrate as I thought.”
“Me, neither.” He gulped a mouthful of the rich, warm treat.
“It’s not the same without them.”
“I’m sorry, Ma.”
She lowered her cup. “For what?”
“Driving Sofia away. Causing a scene at the Christmas party. Hurting you again. We should have been respectful to Boyd at least.”
She brought her mug to her lips and the large cup obscured her expression as she sipped. Then, “Maybe that just wasn’t meant to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Boyd and I dated in high school and things ended over a mix-up. Maybe that was a sign way back then that we weren’t right for each other after all.”
He pictured her beaming, beautiful smile at the party. She’d been lit from the inside with joy, and he’d pulled the plug. Regret sawed his gut.
“You two looked pretty happy.”
A wistful gleam entered her eyes and she let out a breath. “Honey, you’re the one I feel bad about.”
His fingers drummed on the side of his mug. “I don’t want you worrying about me.”
“You’re in love with Sofia.”
His mouth refused to deny the accusation, so he shook his head instead. No need to get his mother worked up over the depth of his feelings...and his loss.
“So why are you holding on to that ceramic family like it’s a lifeline?”
His fingers unfurled to reveal the trio in his hand, their outline a red mark on his palm.
A long breath escaped him. “I messed up, Ma. I’ve been too controlling.”
“Can’t disagree with you, honey. You’ve been this way since Jesse, and I need to accept some of the blame for that because I let you take over things while I was busy grieving.”
“You couldn’t help it, Ma.”
“But I should have.” Her tone turned fierce. “We can’t always control the things that happen to us, but we can control how we feel about them, how we react. I’m your ma and it was up to me to take control of the family.” She brushed at her eyes. “Now. I’m telling you straight. Sofia and Javi are the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And don’t give me any of that guilt about Jesse.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.” His mother shoved up her robe’s sleeves like a prizefighter stepping into a boxing ring. “How are you going to make it right?”
He bit a cookie in half and chewed, the buttery crumbles barely registering. “Nothing I can do. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Can you blame her?”
The rest of the cookie dropped from his fingertips. “No. She thinks I don’t trust her. Says I only want to control her.”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
A napkin appeared and his mother briskly swept the crumbs up. “The giving of love is an education itself.”
“Huh?”
Her robe’s matching pink slippers scuffed across the wood slatted floor as she crossed to the garbage can and tossed the paper. “Eleanor Roosevelt said that. It means that love requires change, especially in ourselves. We have to be willing to grow, to become better people, to be worthy of it.”
“I’ve always tried to do right.”
She smoothed a warm hand over his cheek. “I know, honey. You were always my responsible one, managing every moment, preventing each catastrophe, but you can’t stop all bad things from happening no more than you can plug a leaking dam with your thumb. Life can’t be controlled or scripted. Neither can love.”
He leaned his cheek into her palm and closed his eyes. “It’d be easier if it could.”
“But would it be better? Think about all of the wonderful things that happen to us when we least expect them.”
“Sofia and Javi,” he murmured, then straightened. His mother was right. The natural order of things was not order. Life was a beautiful mess, and if he could get out of his own way, maybe he might enjoy it.
Grow, even.
“Sofia said loving someone and believing in them isn’t the same thing.”
“I agree. To truly love someone,” his mother continued, “you need to open yourself up to the negative as well as the positive—to grief, sorrow and disappointment, as well as to joy, fulfillment and a faith, a trust in others that’s maybe never been possible for you before, honey. But you’re a man of courage. Conviction. A loving heart has no room for fear.”
“Love’s an act of heroism,” he said, speaking his thoughts as he considered his mother’s words.
She nodded, eyes sparkling. “So’s trust.”
“I’ve been a coward for losing faith in Sofia.”
“But you can change that.”
He nodded. Yes, he could. Right now. This moment. If he caught the next flight to Portland, he could reach her by morning.
She might not accept his love. In fact, he had no expectations other than a door shut in his face. But love was about giving, not getting. Hopefully she would accept his overdue apology, and one other, very important thing that he’d planned on mailing her but would now deliver in person.
He owed her that much and more.
He leaned over and bussed his mother on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Ma.”
Her eyebrows rose. “It’s not midnight yet.”
He swung around the counter, stuffed a sealed envelope from the mail pile into his pocket, grabbed his keys, coat and hat, and turned at the door.
“I won’t be around to say it then. I’m catching a flight.”
“To...?”
“Sofia and Javi.”
* * *
SOFIA FITTED A plug into a socket, and a small Christmas tree, set before a bay window, glowed to life. Rubbing the early-morning sleep from her eyes, she stepped back and admired the colorful sight. Small white lights, set deep inside synthetic boughs, illuminated the red, gold and green bulbs she and Javi purchased last night with the first paycheck from her medical receptionist post. Having enough money to modestly furnish the one-bedroom loft she’d rented and decorated for the holidays thrilled her to her toes.
At last, she’d realized the fresh start of her dreams.
A stable job. A new city. Secure housing.
Everything she’d thought she wanted.
Yet nothing she did, no amount of cookie baking, present wrapping or Christmas movie viewing, erased the longing that left her sleepless and wistful since leaving Carbondale.
She could make a wonderful life here, yet this wasn’t the career, the city or the home she wanted. Nothing against Portland. In fact, she was beginning to appreciate this quirky, welcoming city.
Its only crime was not being Carbondale, the residence of the boisterous, passionate, colorful Cade family she’d grown to love as her own. She missed Jewel, Justin, Jared and Joy. As for James, she couldn’t begin to untangle the knot of emotions that twisted inside her every time she thought of him...an almost nonstop occurrence.
The heart did not recognize physical distance, she’d discovered. Nor did it listen to reason. She missed him. Loved him, still.
The clank of hot water rumbling inside an old-fashioned wrought-iron radiator wrenched her from her thoughts. Despite the steamy warmth spiraling through the room, she pulled a bright red wool sweater over her yoga pants and shivered as she plugged in a sugar cookie–scented candle, then an animated Christmas carousel. She surveyed the small, high-ceilinged room.
A plush beige couch and matching armchair faced a small flat screen mounted on hangers attached to a brick wall. Sprigs of holly mixed with white mums and pine boughs burst from a ceramic bowl atop a glass coffee table. A green-and-light-blue woven rug covered much of the polished oak floor. Beside a toddler-sized nutcracker soldier, a wireless speaker connected to her iPhone crooned “Believe” from Javi’s new favorite Christmas movie, The Polar Express.
The Cades’ presents created a festive pile beneath the tree. Javi would be so excited to see the thoughtful gifts that had arrived earlier this week. She’d hidden them at a neighbor’s apartment and retrieved them last night after he’d fallen asleep. Should she wake him now or let him sleep a bit longer?
He’d been up late talking to Joy via Skype. Another hour or so more wouldn’t hurt, anxious as she was to unwrap everything and reconnect to the family she missed with all her heart. Were they awake yet? Colorado operated in Mountain Time, so it’d be 8:00 a.m.