by Susan Meier
For a million reasons. She wanted to say it. Hell, she wanted to shout it. Life had stolen her ability to have kids and with it slimmed down her pool of potential life partners. Her husband had dumped her. She hadn’t really been held by a man in an entire year. She’d gone through the worst situation life had ever handed her and she’d gone through it alone.
She was crying because she was tired. Alone. Afraid to hope. And when she looked at him, she hoped.
Rory drew a sharp breath, her pain was a living, breathing thing in the room, tormenting them both. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t going anywhere. That he didn’t care about having kids. That he liked her enough to explore what was happening between them, then Finley ran into the room.
“Where is everybody?”
Shannon spun away from the door so Finley couldn’t see her crying and Rory’s heart broke for her again. He longed to take her into his arms, to let her cry, but he respected her privacy. If he did something like that, Finley would see and ask questions. But they could— would—talk about this in the morning.
He walked over and swept Finley up off the floor. “Hey, kiddo. Tree’s up. It’s time for us to go home.”
“But I didn’t get cocoa.”
“We’ll stop somewhere along the way.”
“Okay.”
But carrying his daughter to the front hall, strange feelings enveloped him. He remembered the day she was born, remembered walking the floor with her after her two-o’clock feedings. The memories tripped something in his psyche…a love so profound and so deep that it could have only come from the inner sanctum of his soul. Shannon would never know this. But, if he stayed with her, pursued what was happening between them, he would never know it again.
He’d never have a son. His flesh and blood. A little miniature of himself, but with complementing gifts from his mother’s gene pool. He’d never teach hislittle boy how to play baseball. Never proudly introduce him around on the first tee of the country club golf course.
Selfish, he knew, but when he thought of life without those things, something tore a hole in his lungs. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.
It was a lot to be confronted with out of the blue. This time last week, he didn’t believe he’d ever consider dating again, let alone having more kids. Now, he felt like he was in the raging pit of hell because he finally liked someone but she couldn’t have kids. And he had to make a choice. A huge choice. A life-altering choice.
He found Finley’s jacket on the chair in the living room where she’d tossed it while he’d settled the tree into the stand. He found her mittens on the foyer floor. By the time he had her dressed for outside and had shrugged into his leather jacket, Shannon walked out of the kitchen.
Quiet, but composed, she stooped in front of Finley. “Button up. It gets colder at night.”
Finley nodded.
Shannon hugged her. And Rory’s chest ached. Now he knew why she’d been so happy to spend time with Finley. Now he knew why she hadn’t even hesitated when they’d needed a place to stay.
She loved kids.
And she couldn’t have any.
CHAPTER TEN
T HAT NIGHTR ORYlay awake while Finley snored softly in the cot beside his bed. Staring at the dark ceiling, he struggled with the myriad thoughts that battled in his brain. Was she right? Would he reject her, the way her ex-husband had, because she couldn’t have kids?
He didn’t know. He honestly didn’t know. But he did know that if he followed her lead, pulled back from a relationship, as she had, he’d never be put in the position where he’d have to make a choice. Which might be why she’d been so standoffish. She liked him enough that she didn’t want to put him in the position where he had to choose. Then, as she’d pointed out, neither one of them would be hurt.
He fell asleep around four and woke at seven, tired but agreeing that the thing to do would be to follow her lead. Pull back. Hold back. Don’t give her hope only to snatch it away again later if he just plain wasn’t ready to handle a relationship. Or, God help him, if he couldn’t come to terms with never having any more of his own children.
As he and Finley walked into Shannon’s office, she rose from her desk. Wearing a red dress, with bright gold earrings shaped like Christmas ornaments, she looked festive. But her smile was cautious, wary.
“So, Miss Finley, are you staying with me this morning while your dad spends some time in human resources?”
She bounced up and down. “Yes! Are we going to do something fun?”
“Well, first I have to get my morning paperwork done.” She clicked on her big-screen TV. “You can watch cartoons while I do that. Then I thought we’d just take a walk in the park, get some fresh air.” She stooped down in front of Finley. “There should be carolers there this morning.”
“Carolers?”
“People who sing Christmas songs.”
Not enthusiastic, but at least not pouting or throwing a tantrum, Finley shrugged. “Sounds okay.”
Shannon rose. “Okay? It’s going to be fun.” She smiled tentatively at Rory. “So you’ll be back around noon?”
He swallowed. She might be cool and collected, but he knew her heart had been broken. Irrevocably. Life couldn’t do anything crueler to a woman who wanted children than to deprive her of the privilege of conceiving them.
He tried to smile, but knew the effort was lacking. “Yeah. I’ll be back around noon.”
When he turned to go, she caught his forearm. He faced her again.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m not…”
“You are. But I’m fine. Really. In the past year I’ve adjusted, and in the past week I’ve made some decisions about what I want to do with the rest of my life. You just do your part. Decide if you want to buy Raleigh’s. And I’ll take care of everything else.”
He left her office with a strange feeling of finality swamping him. She’dmade the choice. It didn’t sit right, still part of him sighed with relief. He’d just come from a bad, bad, bad marriage. Until he’d met Shannon he’d all but decided never to get close to a woman again. It scared him silly to think he even wanted to try. And the first time he tried it was with a woman who couldn’t be hurt, someone who needed promises up front. Promises he was too shaky to make.
So maybe Shannon was right? Maybe it was best that there be nothing between them?
He headed for human resources, but halfway to the door to housewares, Wendy called to him. “Wait! Wait!”
He stopped. Thinking she had a message from Shannon or Finley, he said, “What’s up?”
“Nothing…” She sighed heavily. “It’s just that Shannon came in sad this morning and I…” She winced. “I just wanted to know if something happened last night.”
His breath caught, but he refused to give in to the emotion. She’d made the choice and he respected that—if only because his own failed marriage had left him so cautious that he couldn’t promise that he’d give her the love she needed. Not after only a few days together.
“Nothing happened last night.” Nothing that he’d tell one of Shannon’s employees. But as quickly as he thought that, it dawned on him that if Wendy, her trusted secretary, didn’t know why Shannon was so heartbroken then Shannon might not have told anyone.
Except him.
He felt burdened and honored both at the same time.
“I’ve been divorced. I know how difficult the first Christmas alone can be. Give her some space. She’ll be fine.”
With that he pushed open the swinging door. He spent the morning listening to the human resources director explain Raleigh’s hiring policies, its wage structure, its bonus and pension plans. Glad for the distraction, he listened intently, but the second he left the big office and headed downstairs to Shannon’s office, the weight of her troubles sat on his shoulders again.
When he arrived at her office, Finley raced into his arms. “We went to the park! Saw the people sing. They were funny.”
“Fun
ny?”
Shannon laughed. “One of the singers dressed up as a reindeer when they sang ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.’ It was hysterical.”
He smiled. He couldn’t help it. Finley was really coming around about Christmas. If she kept this up, in a few more days she might actually like the holiday. But, more importantly, Shannon looked better. More peaceful. He knew that was due in part to Finley’s company, but he genuinely believed that since they hadn’t really “fallen in love” she’d very quickly gotten beyond their near-miss romance.
“So…” He caught her gaze. “Are we ready for lunch?”
She looked away. “You go on without me.”
Finley whined, “Awww!!”
Shannon peeked up, smiled at her. “Sorry, but because we played all morning I have a little work I’d like to catch up on.”
A combination of fear and guilt clenched in his stomach. She didn’t want to be around him anymore. Or maybe she wasn’t having as much fun around Finley as she seemed? Maybe having a child around was pure torture? “If Finley’s a bother, I can have her sit in a room with me.”
Her eyes softened. “Finley’s never a bother.”
And he nearly cursed. Of all the mistakes he’d made around Shannon that was probably the stupidest. It had been clear from the beginning that she loved being around Finley. He was the one with the problem. He had absolutely no clue how to relate to Shannon anymore. Probably because he knew something about her that wasn’t true for most women, and he was barely accustomed to dealing with “most” women. Of course, he was clumsy and awkward around her.
But at lunch he decided that he wasn’t going to abandon her. He might stop his romantic advances. He definitely wouldn’t kiss her again. Those things only seemed to make her unhappy, but he wouldn’t, by God, take Finley away from her in the last two days of their trip.
That evening, after they’d eaten supper in a little Italian restaurant, he loaded Finley back into the car.
“Where’re we goin’?”
“Shannon’s.”
“All right!”
“I have no idea what she’s going to be doing tonight, but whatever it is, we’re going to help her.”
Blissfully clueless, Finley shrugged. “Okay.”
“I mean it, Finley. This might be a little hard for you to understand, but Christmas means a lot to Shannon and I don’t want any tantrums if she says or does something you don’t like.”
“Okay.”
He bit back a sigh. He couldn’t be sure that Finley really got it. But he did know he couldn’t let Shannon alone that night.
She answered the door wearing a bright Christmas-print apron over jeans and a red sweater. Her dark hair swirled around her sexily, but the drop of flour on the tip of her nose made her look just plain cute.
“Hey!”
She stepped away to allow them to enter.
Rory guided Finley inside. “We weren’t sure what you would be doing tonight but we suspected you might need some help.” He caught her gaze, smiled tentatively. “So we’re here.”
She headed for the kitchen, motioning for them to follow her. “I’m baking cookies.”
Finley gasped. “What kind?”
Shannon turned and caught her gaze. “Christmas cookies.”
Finley frowned but Shannon laughed. “Don’t you think it’s about time you learned how to bake them?”
“I’m six.”
Shannon headed for the kitchen again. “I know. But next year you’ll be seven and the year after that eight and before you know it you’ll be twelve or so and you’ll want to be the one who bakes the cookies. So, just trust me.”
Finley wrinkled her nose and glanced up at her father. Recognizing she might be more opposed to the work than the idea that the cookies were for a holiday she didn’t really like, he said, “Well, you don’t think I’m going to bake our cookies, do you?”
In the kitchen, the dough had already been prepared. Shannon had it rolled into a thin circle. Cookie cutters sat scattered along the side of the cookie dough bowl.
He ambled to the center island as Finley hoisted herself onto one of the tall stools in front of it.
“You see these?” Shannon displayed a bunch of the cookie cutters to Finley. “We push these into the dough.” She demonstrated with a Christmas-tree-shaped cutter. “Then pull it out and like magic we have a cookie that’s going to look like a tree.”
Finley grabbed for the tree cutter. “Let me.”
Rory tugged her hand back. “What do we say?”
She huffed out a sigh. “Please, can I do one?”
Shannon laughed. “You may do as many as you like.” She laughed again. “As long as there’s dough.”
And Rory’s heart started beating again. He hadn’t realized how worried he was, how guilty he felt, until Shannon laughed and some of the burden began to lift.
Finley and Shannon cut twelve shapes and Shannon removed the cookie dough from around them. They lifted the shapes from the countertop onto a baking sheet and Shannon rolled another circle of dough.
They worked like that for about twenty minutes. When Rory also joined in the fun, it took even less time to cut out all the cookies in a circle of dough. As they cut shapes and filled cookie sheets, Shannon slid the trays into the oven. Using a timer, she kept close track of their baking times and in exactly twelve minutes she removed each pan of cookies.
When they finished the last tray, Shannon walked over to the cookies cooling on the round kitchen table and said, “These are ready to be painted.”
Finley frowned. “With a brush?”
“With a lot of little brushes.” She brought a plate of cooled cookies over to the counter then headed for the refrigerator, where she had icing cooling. She filled four soup bowls with icing.
“Now we put some food coloring in the bowls and make different colors of icing.”
Grabbing two bottles of the coloring, Rory helped her create red, blue, green, yellow and pink icing.
She carefully caught his gaze. “You’re good at this.”
He laughed, relieved that she finally seemed comfortable with him in the room. “It’s not we’re like mixing rocket fuel.”
She laughed a little, too. Finley snatched a cookie and one of the thin paintbrushes lying beside the icing bowls.
Now that the cookies had baked, they’d fluffed out a bit and didn’t exactly look like their intended design. So Rory said, “That’s a bell.”
Finley sighed as if put upon. “I know.”
Hoping to cover for the insult, he said, “So what color are you going to paint it?”
“The song they sang in the park today said bells are silver. But there is no silver icing.”
“Silver bells are silver,” Shannon agreed. “But cookie bells can be any color you want.”
“Then I’ll make mine pink.”
“A pink bell sounds lovely.”
Though Rory had pitched in and helped cut the cookies and even create the colored icing, he had no interest in painting cookies. He glanced around. “Would you mind if I made a pot of coffee?”
Shannon peeked over at him again. This time more confidently. “Or you could make cocoa.”
Rory’s shoulders relaxed a bit more. If they kept this up, by the time he was ready to take Finley home, he and Shannon might actually be comfortable in each other’s company again.
He found the milk and cocoa. While Shannon and Finley happily painted cookies, he made their cocoa and served it to them. They barely paused. Seeing that it would take hours if he didn’t help, Rory lifted a brush and began to paint, too.
They worked until nine. When they were through, and the cookies drying on the kitchen table, Rory told Finley to get her coat while he helped Shannon clean the dishes and brushes. In spite of the goodwill that had seemed to grow between them as they made cookies, once Finley left the room Shannon again became quiet.
Rory still didn’t quite know what to say. With every minute of silence
that passed, a little more distance crept between them. He knew part of that was his fault. He’d only decided he was ready to date. The decisions thrown at him the night before were usually the kinds of things people discovered after months of dating. When they were comfortable and confident in their feelings.
But he understood why Shannon had told him. They were growing close and she didn’t want to.
With the dishwasher humming, she dried her hands on the dishtowel and then tossed it on the counter. “I wonder if she’s struggling with her boots.”
He laughed. “She always struggles with those damn things. But she loves them. So we deal with it.”
Heading out of the kitchen, Shannon tried to laugh, but the sound that came out of her throat was a cross between a hum and a sigh. The whole evening had been strained. Rory tried to pretend things weren’t different between them, but they were. This time yesterday, he would have flirted with her. He also would have found something to do in her living room rather than watch her and Finley make cookies. He’d clearly been bored. Yet, he stayed in the room. As if he didn’t trust her not to break down.
Expecting to see Finley on the foyer floor struggling with her boots, she paused when she saw the empty space. “Wonder where she is?”
Rory’s steps quickened as he ran to the closet. But as he passed the living room entryway, he stopped. “Look.”
She peered into the living room and there, on the sofa, sleeping like an angel was Finley. Warmth enveloped her like a soft sigh of contentment. “She’s so cute.”
“Yeah,” Rory agreed, slowly walking toward her. Gazing down at his daughter he said, “You’ve done so much for her, helping her to get into the spirit of Christmas.”
She swallowed. “It was my pleasure.”
“I wonder what other things she might like?”
“Might like?”
“About Christmas.” He glanced over. “We’ve decorated, made cookies. You’ve even gotten her to like carols. But that’s just the tip of the holiday iceberg. There are lots of things she’s never experienced. Now that she’s open, I’d like to introduce her to everything…make her like everything so that this time next year she’ll be excited for Christmas, not sad.”