Married for Christmas (Willow Park)

by Noelle Adams

  Her release was too loud. Her whole body seemed to come undone. Then she heard him make a loud, extended guttural sound as he jerked a few last times into her clenching body.

  His climax was obviously just as powerful as hers. He collapsed on top of her.

  Her throat hurt. And it was so hot. And so incredibly good.

  “That was… That was…” She couldn’t begin to complete the sentence.

  “Yeah.”

  She hugged him, unable to not convey the wash of affection and connection she was flooded with. He hugged her back.

  After a minute, she said, “I can’t believe we did it on the couch.”

  “At least it wasn’t on the floor. That can lead to uncomfortable side effects.”

  “Rug burn?”

  “Or bruises.”

  She laughed, and he was chuckling too as he pressed a few clumsy kisses against her mouth.

  Her heart felt like it exploded in her chest, as powerful as her body had exploded.

  She knew he needed this. Knew she was giving to him. Knew she had something important to offer him, and it wasn’t only physical.

  She knew it—the way she’d never known it before.

  “I don’t know if I can move,” he groaned, still resting his weight on her.

  “You’re going to have to soon. You’re kind of heavy.”

  He groaned again but managed to pull off her.

  They found their clothes and then kind of sat there, as if neither was sure what to do.

  “You look worn out,” she said, looking at his damp face and tired eyes.

  “I am.”

  “Well, then let’s go to bed.”

  It was as good a thing to do as anything else.

  They went upstairs and, after they got ready and climbed into bed, he took her in his arms.

  She was feeling blissfully content and sleepy when she was suddenly jarred by an impact on the mattress.

  She knew what it was immediately. Bear had jumped on the bed. Daniel grunted and lifted his head.

  “Get down,” she said, too drowsy and replete to sound very firm. “Bear, get down.”

  Bear ignored her and started to scratch up a nest at the bottom of the bed between Daniel’s legs and Jessica’s, where there really wasn’t much room.

  “Down.” Daniel’s voice carried much more authority than hers had, but the dog showed no reaction as she settled into a ball to sleep.

  Worried that Daniel would be annoyed, Jessica nudged the dog with her foot, trying to give her a push off the bed. All it accomplished was Bear heaving a huge sigh and stretching out at her full length across the bottom of the bed.

  With a groan, Jessica sat up and tried to push the dog with her hands.

  Bear lifted her head to aim a look of victimized indignation at her owner before heaving herself to her feet and jumping off the bed.

  Relieved, Jessica cuddled up beside Daniel again.

  Two minutes later, the mattress shifted dramatically again.

  “What is her problem tonight?” Daniel asked.

  “Sometimes she just wants on the bed. I can never figure out why. She’s been really good lately.”

  “This is what you call good?”

  “Don’t be grumpy with her. I’ll try to get her off.”

  Jessica tried pushing with her feet again. And then with her hands. The dog huffed and moved to the far side of the bed, where Jessica normally slept when she wasn’t pressed up against Daniel. Evidently assuming she’d be safe there, Bear gave Jessica’s pillow a few scratches and then flopped down to sleep.

  “She sleeps on your pillow?” Daniel’s voice was astounded.

  “She normally sleeps at the bottom, but she thought she wasn’t supposed to because I kept pushing her.”

  “She isn’t supposed to sleep at the bottom. She isn’t supposed to sleep on the bed at all.”

  “She’s all the way on my side and not touching you at all. If you want her off, then you need to get up, walk around the bed, and pick her up to put her back on the floor.”

  “It seems pretty clear that would be wasted energy, since she’d just jumped back up again.”

  “All I’m saying is that, if you want her down, you need to put her down yourself.”

  “I can put her in one of the spare rooms and shut the door.”

  “I guarantee that would not end up well for you.”

  He released a long, resigned breath and adjusted his arm around her, pulling her more comfortably against his side. “Dogs don’t belong on the bed.”

  “She sleeps on her own bed most of the time.”

  “She should sleep on her bed all the time.”

  He didn’t really sound annoyed, so Jessica smiled. “She’s not hurting anything. She’s not anywhere close to you.”

  “It’s the principle.”

  “She doesn’t understand principles. Moral training just doesn’t work on a dog.”

  He chuckled. “As long as she doesn’t try to take my pillow.”

  She pressed a kiss against his chest. “She’ll have to get past me to get to your pillow.”

  “Good. You can be my barrier against any encroaching dogs.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  “I knew I was keeping you around for some reason.”

  His voice was low and fond. His body was warm and solid. His arm was strong and deliciously possessive. And his heart was the kindest she’d ever known.

  She felt safe. Felt needed. Felt cared for. It wasn’t long before she drifted into sleep.

  Just before she did, she decided she didn’t need anything more than this.

  Eight

  Jessica woke up and felt chilled, so she rolled over instinctively toward Daniel’s side of the bed.

  She kept rolling until she almost rolled off.

  Bear had gotten down sometime during the night. It was still dark in the room, and staring at the clock for several seconds finally produced the knowledge that it was two-thirty in the morning.

  Daniel wasn’t in bed.

  Jessica sat up, blinking and listening. He could just be in the bathroom.

  He wasn’t, though. The light was off, and the door was hanging opened.

  She knew where he was.

  She got up, slid on her slippers, and pulled on a sweatshirt, since it was cool in the house.

  She walked slowly downstairs and through the hall to the study.

  The door was half-opened, so she stood in the dark hallway and looked inside.

  The only light was the desk lamp, and it illuminated the room with a dim glow, casting weird shadows on the floor and walls. Daniel sat in his normal spot at the desk. His Bible was opened in front of him, and he held his head up with both hands as he read.

  He was hunched, heavy, wounded somehow. She could see it in his posture, in the way his fingers closed around his hair.

  Her heart went out to him with such power that her eyes burned. She’d thought he’d had a good evening with her, but he was hurting so much. Still so much.

  And he simply refused to let her help.

  She watched for a long time, standing silently in the hall, praying for him, praying for both of them.

  She didn’t think she’d made a noise, but eventually he jerked his head up quickly, as if he’d somehow realized she was there.

  His eyes were blank, almost dazed, like he couldn’t figure out what she was doing there.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, her voice cracking oddly.

  She’d felt so close to him this evening. She’d felt loved, even though he’d never said it. But evidently the evening hadn’t meant what she’d thought it meant. If anything, it had made him feel worse.

  He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Then he glanced to the side and let out a breath. Finally he hoarsely spoke what was obviously the naked truth. “I…I don’t know.”

  “You can tell me, you know. You can tell me anything.”

  He still looked d
azed as he turned his head to stare at her again. The picture of Lila wasn’t set out on the desk, for some reason. She didn’t know what to make of that. She always assumed he came in here at night to brood about missing her.

  “Are you still feeling guilty?” she asked at last.

  He shook his head.

  She didn’t think he would open up to her about something so deep out of the blue like this under normal circumstances, but he’d be down here wrestling spiritually for who knew how long, and he had no defenses left. “Not guilty.”

  “Then what is it? It looks like something is eating you alive.”

  “I’m…”

  When he trailed off, glancing away again, she stepped into the study. “You’re what?”

  “I’m still so angry.”

  She sucked in a breath, shocked by the words, by the sentiment.

  Daniel had always been the most mature, devout man she’d ever known. He’d always seemed to have such a clear sense of God’s will. While she’d floundered spiritually more than once in her life, he never seemed to have done so.

  She never would have dreamed of him feeling something like this.

  “I know it’s wrong. I know I have no right to be angry. But I can’t get over it. I can’t reconcile. I’m just so angry.” He clenched the hand that was resting just next to his Bible, which was opened to Job, she noticed. “I just can’t let it go.”

  A tear streamed down her cheek, although she hadn’t realized she was close to tears. She wiped it away impatiently. “I think anger is normal. It’s a part of grief. Right?”

  “This is more than a stage of grief. I went through all the regular stages. I’m nothing but angry now. It just feels so wrong that he takes away everything from me, everything I want. It infects everything. I can’t let myself want anything else because he’ll just… The whole world just feels…”

  She was holding her breath, but she finally had to let it go when he didn’t finish. “Feels what?”

  “Broken.”

  The word hung in the air—rough, and soft, and achingly honest.

  Heartbreaking.

  She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, afraid to say what she wanted, afraid it would come across as preachy or judgmental, which would only make things worse.

  He must have seen her hesitation because he murmured, “You can say it.”

  Since he asked for it, she did. “I thought you always said that the world feels broken because it is broken. And that we lie to ourselves when we assume it should somehow be different for us. I thought you said faith doesn’t sugarcoat reality. It shows the truth for what it is. Sometimes it’s incredibly hard, but it isn’t always…dark.”

  Daniel had said all that. From the pulpit and out of it. She’d heard versions of the same truth over and over again. She’d always believed it as much as he had, and she thought it was what he needed to hear right now.

  It didn’t appear to make an impact, though. He gazed at her for a long time, and she thought she saw again that kind of deep yearning, as if he desperately wanted something, desperately wanted her.

  She stared back, wanting him just as much, loving him more than she’d realized was possible, feeling the same kind of longing she saw in him.

  But she didn’t know how to reach him. “Maybe…” Her voice broke so painfully she had to clear her throat.

  He just watched her, waiting for her to finish.

  “Maybe you’re not letting him give you anything good.”

  It was a several seconds before he answered. As he did, he broke their shared gaze. “Maybe. You might be right. But even that feels broken to me, because he gives and takes away. I can’t seem to get past that. Sometimes I’ll forget it, for a little while, for just a minute, but then I’ll remember again, and it all comes crashing down, even more broken than before.”

  She understood. That was her. Helping him forget for a little while. But only for a little while.

  She didn’t make it better for him after all. She never would.

  It hurt. So much. She took a shaky breath and forced down the response, since this was about him, not about her. “What can I do?”

  “Nothing.” The words were final.

  But he was a tender-hearted man—tender to the core of his being—and he glanced back up to her face and said rather raspily, “But thank you.”

  ***

  She woke up the next morning to someone shaking her shoulder.

  She thought she was awake, but she couldn’t pry her eyes open. She tried to pull away from the hand, but it was too strong.

  Then came a grating voice. “I’m sorry, Jessica. Can you wake up for a minute? Then you can go back to sleep.”

  She didn’t want to wake up. It felt like she’d only just fallen asleep.

  She mumbled and tried to roll over onto her other side.

  The hand turned her back over. “Jessica,” came the voice again. “I don’t want to leave without explaining.”

  With great effort, she managed to get her eyes halfway opened. Daniel knelt next to the bed, fully dressed in a flannel shirt over a thermal t-shirt.

  That seemed strange, but she didn’t know why. If only her mind was working better.

  “Hi,” she croaked. She had no idea what was happening, but it was nice to see Daniel so close to her, his brown eyes focused on her face.

  She smiled, and she thought his face changed for a minute, but she couldn’t quite identify the transformation.

  Then his expression returned to what it had been, and he shook her shoulder again. “Are you awake?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry to wake you up.”

  “S’okay.”

  “I didn’t want to be gone when you woke up.”

  Now her mind was starting to work. No wonder things felt wrong. “Gone where?”

  “I’m going on the hiking trip with the youth group.”

  “But you weren’t going on that. You said you didn’t have to. You were going Christmas shopping with me.”

  “I know. But I’ve been thinking about it, and I think it’s best that I go. I don’t want to look like a slacker when I’ve only just gotten this job.”

  She couldn’t imagine anyone would think he was a slacker for not going on an all-day hiking trip with teenagers when he wasn’t the leader of the youth group and had no obligation to go with them.

  Then the evening before came flooding back to her. The laughter, the tenderness, the intimacy, the heartbreaking conversation in his study.

  He wasn’t going on the hike because he felt he should.

  He was going to get some distance from her.

  “We were going shopping,” she said, rather stupidly.

  “I know. But you’ll be more productive without me anyway. I’d just slow you down.”

  That was absurd. Her chest was starting to hurt so much she raised a hand to her breastbone. “I thought you were going with me.”

  She hated the sound of her voice. Pitiful. Needy.

  “I really should go hiking instead.”

  “Oh.” She wasn’t going to beg, and she was absolutely not going to cry because he’d made a decision to pull away from her. “Okay.”

  His face looked torn for just a moment. Then he stood up. “I’ll be back late.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Have a good day.”

  The only thing she could say was what she’d already said twice, so she didn’t say anything as he walked out of the room.

  He wore jeans and hiking boots and looked rugged and outdoorsy.

  He was strong and handsome and brilliant and tender.

  And broken.

  She listened until she heard his old truck pull out of the driveway.

  ***

  She went shopping, just as she’d planned.

  She fought the crowds and got all the presents on her list and all the wrapping supplies she needed.

  When she got home, it wasn’t even three yet,
so she put on Christmas music and wrapped all her presents, singing as loud as she could to fool herself into being happy.

  She didn’t let herself think about Daniel. Instead, she watched TV as she ate dinner, and then she worked until almost ten, when her eyes started drooping.

  Daniel wasn’t home yet. He’d said he’d be late.

  She went to take a shower and got into bed.

  Bear walked up to the side of the bed and eyed her pitifully.

  It was a big bed, and no one was in it but her. Bear obviously believed there was no reason she couldn’t share.

  “All right,” Jessica said.

  That was all the invitation Bear needed. She hurled herself up on the bed and tried to make a nest on Daniel’s pillow, but Jessica managed to dissuade her from this unwise plan.

  Instead, Jessica coaxed her into stretching out between the edge of the bed and Jessica’s body, so Daniel would have no reason to complain.

  He might still complain, but she didn’t care. If he was going to abandon her, then he couldn’t whine about her taking comfort in her dog.

  Jessica was exhausted but couldn’t sleep. She lay in the dark and listened to Bear snore.

  Surely the youth group wouldn’t stay out this late, not when the next day was Sunday.

  Maybe something happened.

  Maybe someone had gotten hurt.

  Maybe Daniel had gotten hurt.

  She was just working herself up into a panic when she heard the truck in the driveway.

  She let out a breath of relief.

  She heard as he entered the house and walked up the stairs. Then she heard the door open and his footsteps come into the room.

  She was facing the wall, toward Bear, and she didn’t roll over. Didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

  She didn’t know what to say, so it was probably best that he thought she was asleep.

  She didn’t hear anything for a minute, but it felt like he was standing there, staring at her.

  It made her feel weird. Vulnerable. And she was relieved when she heard him go into the bathroom.

  The shower came on for a while. Then she heard the toilet flush and the water in the sink.

  Then there was nothing left. He came back into the room and climbed into bed beside her.

  She was closer to his side than normal because Bear was taking up a lot of room.