The Christmas Present

by Tracy Wolff

  “I’ve been reasonable. For my whole life I’ve been reasonable. I’m sick of being reasonable, Mother. Sick of catering to your moods and your prejudices and your inability to deal with things you don’t want to know about.”

  Stopping in midtirade, Vivian buried her face in her hands and tried to breathe past the crushing lump in her chest. She wasn’t going to change her mother, wouldn’t even know how to go about trying, so why was she berating her for something that couldn’t be helped? It was a waste of energy she couldn’t currently afford.

  “Look, Mother. I’m sorry I snapped. I know you meant well, but you’re going to have to trust me on this. I love Rafael and I’m not going to turn my back on him because he doesn’t come with a socially acceptable pedigree. Now, it’s time for you to leave.”

  Head up, back straight, her mother finally did what Vivian asked. She left without a backward glance. And as the door closed behind her, Vivian didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to do next.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  VIVIAN WOKE TO A LOUD pounding in her head. Disoriented as she was from the pain pill she’d taken before falling asleep, it took her a minute to figure out that someone was at the door.

  “Vivian. Are you in there? Vivian?” Rafael said through the panel, sounding panicked.

  “Yeah,” she said, trying to struggle to her feet. Her leg burned like crazy, worse than before she’d taken the painkiller. How long had she been asleep, anyway? “Hold on,” she called.

  “It’s Rafael, Vivian. Are you in there alone?”

  “Give me a second.”

  A string of curses drifted through the door as she slowly hobbled across the room. Maybe she’d been a fool to turn down the crutches they’d offered her at the hospital, but she’d been afraid of falling flat on her face as she tried to use them.

  Her drug-fuzzed brain had her struggling with a lock that a kindergartener could open. The second it clicked free, the door flew open and Rafael pushed his way in.

  He swept her up and into his arms the second the door closed behind him. “What are you doing walking on that leg? Why are you here alone? Why didn’t you call me?”

  “My mother brought me home a couple of hours ago, but when she got on my nerves I begged her to leave so I could sleep. That’s what I was doing when you got here—getting ready for bed.”

  “I’m sorry.” He sat beside her and brushed a kiss over her forehead. Her traitorous heart beat faster, but she willed it not to respond. “I should have called you, but things went unbelievably crazy after I left the hospital.”

  “What happened? Did you find Diego?”

  His face clouded. “Oh, yeah. When I got back to the center he was sitting in front of my door with a gun. He wanted to die, Vivian.”

  “Oh, no! Is he okay?”

  Rafael sank against her, his head resting in the curve of her shoulder as he took long shuddering breaths. “For now. I called a friend of mine who’s a counselor. I’d tried to get Diego to see her before, but he wouldn’t have any part of it. This time I told him he doesn’t get a choice.”

  “Good.”

  He shook his head. “It was unbelievable, Vivian. I was sure he was going to shoot himself, and I couldn’t fathom what I was going to do without him.”

  “That must be what he feels like, having lost Esme and his son.”

  “Exactly. The poor kid—I can’t imagine what he’s been walking around with since they died. Oh, and there’s more.”

  As he told her the story of what had happened, Vivian’s stomach flipped over again and again as she stared at him in disbelief. “I used to babysit Thomas when they came to our house,” she said hoarsely. “He was just a baby.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s not a baby anymore, and he’s in a world of trouble. Despite the fact that his father had him lawyered up, the kid’s cocky enough that he just might give them a confession for Esme’s murder. Jose seems to think it’s a possibility, not that he’s sure they’ll need it. They found Esme’s address in his wallet and he doesn’t have any good excuse as to why it’s there.”

  “Her brothers?” she asked, horrified at the thought.

  “I think so.”

  “But how is that possible? Why would Thomas do this?”

  “Too much money, not enough supervision.” He shook his head sickly. “I don’t know what makes a kid who has every advantage do something like that.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “Now the police try to figure out which way is up. Richard has them so protected it’ll be a miracle if one of them breaks, but I’m hoping Greg will. He doesn’t strike me as having much backbone.”

  Vivian thought back to the kid who had watched Nacho attack her outside the community center, and had to agree. But still…“So does this mean Esme’s brothers were involved, after all? Or that they weren’t?”

  “Jose’s pulled them in for questioning, as well. Judging from their reactions when they saw Thomas Stanley behind bars, I’d say they knew he killed their sister. But I think the money and the drugs were more important to them—at least to Danny—than seeing their sister’s killer punished.”

  “That’s…”

  “I know. Disgusting, right?” He pulled her against him and cradled her in his arms.

  They stayed that way for a while, Rafael twirling a strand of her hair around his finger while she listened to the steady beat of his heart. Eventually her leg started to hurt too much for her to ignore, and she shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position.

  “Do you need another pain pill?”

  “I think so, but I hate them. They make me so drowsy.”

  “Better that than suffering. Where did your mom put them?”

  “I think they’re on the kitchen counter.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be right back.”

  He was as good as his word, quickly returning with a pill and a large glass of water. “So what happened to your mother?” he asked, settling down next to her again. “I thought she was supposed to be here taking care of you?”

  “I kicked her out.”

  “Why?”

  Vivian wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that. Precious seconds ticked by as she tried to find a decent answer, but finally she just gave up. “She had you investigated.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She was upset when she found you in my hospital room, and she wanted to find something to make me break up with you.”

  “And she found it, didn’t she? What’d she have to say about my rape conviction?”

  “She wanted me to dump you.”

  “And that’s why you kicked her out?” His voice was completely emotionless. He had withdrawn far from her despite the fact that he still sat next to her on the couch.

  “I kicked her out because she was trying to control me, and I won’t have that. She’s entitled to her own prejudices, I suppose, but that doesn’t mean she can try to foist them on me. I’ll pick who I hang around with, and to hell with what she and my father think is best. It’s not like they’ve got the best judgment in the world.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  Of all the things she’d thought he might say, that was the least expected. “What do you mean? Of course I should have—I care about you. And she has no right to judge you. Especially since she’s never bothered to have a real conversation with you.”

  “She’s your mother. I don’t want to come between you two.”

  “Give me a break. It’s not like we’re normally all warm and fuzzy, and you just got in the way. We’ve always had problems.”

  “Still.” He shoved himself up from the couch. “If I’ve learned nothing else in the last couple of weeks, it’s that family is everything. You don’t give it up if you don’t have to.”

  “Not everyone’s family is like yours.”

  “I know that, but at the same time, you need whatever bonds you have. Diego nearly died because he lost those bonds.”


  “And Esme did die because of her family ties. There are all kinds of families, Rafael, and I don’t want to be a part of one that’s so cold and calculating. Not anymore.”

  “Yeah, well, what happens when you’re not mad at your mom anymore.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He walked over to the window, stared out at the storm-tossed ocean for what seemed like forever. “I won’t come between you and your family.”

  “You aren’t.”

  “Of course I am. And while you’re okay with it now, what about next week, when it’s Christmas?”

  “My parents are going away for Christmas and leaving me here. Believe me, it won’t bother me at all.”

  “Okay, what about your birthday then? Or when you get promoted to partner?”

  “Yeah, well, I won’t make partner anytime soon. This whole Richard debacle should make me persona non grata around the firm for a while.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? He’s the one who assigned you the case so you could fail and he’s the one who had you shot when you didn’t. How is that your fault?”

  “You obviously still have a lot to learn about how things work on my side of the tracks.”

  “That’s my point. I don’t fit in—and I never will. Your parents won’t accept you being with me and there will come a time when you want them. I don’t want you to ever feel like you had to choose between me and them.”

  “My mother made the choice.”

  “Don’t you see? That makes it worse.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” She stood up, tried to limp over to him, but he was across the room in a second, settling her back on the sofa.

  “Yes, it does. Vivian, if you do this, you’ll come to resent me.”

  As his words finally sank in, the lightbulb clicked on. He hadn’t said it back. She’d told him that she loved him, and he’d told her that she should make up with her mother. She’d been so caught up in her argument with her mother that she hadn’t realized it until this very second.

  Could she have been any more of a fool?

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? This has nothing to do with my mother. You don’t trust me.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, backed away.

  “You didn’t have to. One rich girl didn’t stick by you, so why would another? We’re all the same, right?”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Sure it is. You’ve been saying it from the beginning, thinking it. But I thought we’d moved beyond the stereotypes. If I can believe you when you tell me you’re not a rapist, why can’t you believe that I love you? That I want to be with you? That I don’t care what my parents or my friends or anyone else says about you? About us?”

  “Come on, Vivian. It wouldn’t work—you know that.”

  “No, you know that. You’ve always known it. Right, Rafael? You never expected this to work. So why did you start it? Why’d you take me out, let me meet your family? Why’d you make love to me like that if you never planned on sticking around?”

  “You can’t live your life torn between two different sides. It can’t work.”

  “I’m not torn. You are.”

  “You’re not being reasonable.”

  “Well, excuse me. So you want me to be rational? Fine.” She limped over to the door and swung it open. And for the second time in twenty-four hours, she looked at someone she loved and told him to get out.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  FIVE DAYS LATER, Rafael sat with his family around his mother’s Christmas tree, watching as everyone opened presents. Carolina’s two girls were squealing in delight over their gifts from Santa, while Miguel’s son was using his lightsaber to battle imaginary galactic forces of evil. Even Diego was getting into the spirit, fiddling with the MP3 player Rafael had bought him and loaded with his favorite songs.

  And Rafael had never been more miserable in his whole damn life. Even the five years he’d spent in prison hadn’t been this bad. At least then he’d had an ending in sight. A timetable he could mark off as each awful day passed.

  Being without Vivian wasn’t like that. Every day was an empty ache, one that had him going stir-crazy before the first week was up. And the knowledge that this was forever—that he would never be with her again—was nearly unbearable.

  What had he done? The question haunted Rafael as it had every morning since he’d walked out of Vivian’s apartment, working itself insidiously into his brain until it was all he could think about, all he could focus on.

  When Vivian had told him that she loved him, he should have dropped down on his knees and thanked God for her. He should have at least wrapped his arms around her and told her that he felt the same way, that nothing else mattered but the two of them.

  But he’d been stupid and had let his damn pride get in the way. Had let his fear of being hurt again stand between him and the only woman he’d ever loved. Was it possible for him to be a bigger pendejo?

  It had messed with his head when she’d told him her mother knew about his rape conviction. All he could think about was the months and years Lillian Wentworth would look down her nose at him, thinking he was scum. Would work insidiously on Vivian, trying to get her to change her mind about him. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have enough strikes against him without the conviction.

  But he’d forgotten something in all that. Forgotten that Vivian was the most steadfast person he’d ever met. She rarely faltered; she stood up for the things she believed in. If she loved him, of course she would stand up for him, too. She already had when she’d kicked her mother out. Had continued to do so when—after everything that had happened between them—she’d rushed a dismissal motion through the court so that Diego could be a free man by Christmas.

  And what had Rafael done besides cower behind his misconceptions and fears? How had he showed her that he loved her, too? He hadn’t. He’d been too busy worrying about the past to work on the future. As far as mistakes went, his was a doozy.

  “Come on, Rafa. If you’re going to be this miserable, you should just go get the girl.” Michaela beaned him in the head with a bright red box. “You haven’t opened one present, haven’t done anything but mope. Man up and go tell your woman you screwed the pooch.”

  “How do you know he’s the one who screwed up?” Miguel demanded. “She could have—”

  “She didn’t. Vivian’s good people,” Michaela said.

  Great. What kind of idiot was he that his baby sister had figured out in one evening what he hadn’t been able to get his mind around in three weeks? “She’s right. I screwed up.”

  “So go fix it.” His father smacked him on the back of the head. “You think love is all about fairy tales? Everyone screws up at one time or another. It’s what you do about it afterward that makes all the difference.”

  His mother leaned over and planted a big kiss on her husband’s mouth. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, mi novio.” She raised an eyebrow at Rafael. “Why are you still here?”

  “I’m not.” He sprang up and headed for the door.

  “Yo, bro.”

  “What?” he asked Gabriel, impatient to be on his way.

  “Just a suggestion, but you might change out of the Santa Claus pj’s before you go running after the love of your life.”

  VIVIAN SAT ON THE COUCH, staring at her lonely little Christmas tree and feeling absolutely miserable. Her leg still throbbed, she was coming down with a cold and she was alone on Christmas. Could she get any more pathetic?

  Oh, yeah, and the man she loved had walked away from her five days ago, without a backward glance. Nope, she officially won the Most Pathetic award of the year.

  She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely function. The only bright spots had been getting Diego’s charges dropped and watching Richard get indicted for attempted murder in her shooting and conspiracy to commit murder after the fact in Esme’s death. It turned out her boss had done a lot mo
re than simply assign the wrong attorney to the job. As first Greg and then Nacho had broken, the whole story had come tumbling out.

  Thomas had killed Esme in a PCP-fueled rage. When he’d woken up covered in blood, he’d enlisted his father’s help, who had then worked to keep his son out of the investigation’s spotlight. He’d paid Detective Turner to find a suspect that would roll over, and had had Thomas cough up the names of local thugs they could use to do their dirty work. He must have had a stroke when Rafael had called him for help with Diego’s case, but he hadn’t been able to say no. It would have looked strange if he’d refused to help one of the kids at the center he’d dedicated so much time to.

  The press was having a field day, and Richard had been ruined. It almost made worthwhile Vivian’s awful days as the focus of all that media scrutiny. Almost.

  Slumping down on the sofa, she nursed her mug of eggnog and tried to convince herself that she was quite happy watching football games and eating a turkey sandwich.

  When the knock sounded at her door, she ignored it at first. But whoever was there was persistent, and finally she dragged herself across the room and wrenched the door open, only to come face-to-face with Rafael.

  He looked as upset as she felt.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  When he didn’t say anything else, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.” She stepped back, let him in.

  “How’s your leg?” he asked as he trailed her to the sofa.

  “It hurts, but it’s better than it was.”

  “I’m really sorry—”

  “Please tell me you didn’t come here to talk about me being shot.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Good.” She gestured to her cup on the coffee table. “Do you want some eggnog?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” She sank onto the sofa. “So what do you want?”

  “You.” He deliberately echoed her answer to his question of the week before.