by Mimi Barbour
He shook his head then and grinned. Then he laughed with Christy.
“Her intentions were good,” she reminded him.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “She was a sweetheart. That’s for sure.”
Aaron gazed at Christy and they shared a poignant moment filled to the brim with memories of Izzie.
Then, as if someone had turned on a light switch, his eyes widened. “Here. This is what I wanted you to see.” He flipped to the back of the journal. “On the last page. This is what I’ve been unable to figure out.”
The letters were shaky, as if the hand that held the pen had been weak. Izzie had been quite ill when she’d made the final entry.
Daddy
+
Christmas
Forever
“What do you think it means?” he asked. “Was she hoping I’d be as happy as she was this Christmas? Was she letting me know we fulfilled her wish for a perfect family holiday? Was this her way of wishing me a special type of joy forever? Or was this just some nonsensical thinking caused by all the drugs she was taking at the end?”
Tears sprang to Christy’s eyes, burning her eye sockets and making the letters on the page splinter and go out of focus. She fanned her face, trying to keep her emotions in check.
“That’s me,” she said, but her throat was so tight the words came out sounding creaky.
Aaron didn’t understand what she meant, so she tried again.
“I’m Christmas. We shared secrets. And I told her mine.”
His frown only deepened, and she realized she wasn’t making good sense.
“My name,” she stressed. She sniffed and took a deep breath. “Christy is short for Christmas.”
Understanding dawned and his mouth formed a silent oh. Then he asked, “Your birthday is on Christmas?”
Christy was crying and laughing and rolling her eyes all at the same time. “No.” Gosh, if she had a dollar for every time someone made that assumption after learning her given name she’d be a wealthy woman. “I was born in July. My parents thought it would be fun.”
He chuckled, then he glanced at the page for a moment.
“Izzie really did want that make-believe marriage to stick, didn’t she?”
Christy plucked a tissue from the box and swiped her nose. “Apparently so. Remember when she said it might be make-believe, but that didn’t make it not real?”
Thankfully, he wasn’t concerned that she was an emotional mess. People in their predicament simply understood that their harsh experiences tended to cause emotions to hover near the surface; one moment feelings would surge with sharp and stinging rawness, the next they would ebb to something softer, gentler, and the next, well, if one was lucky, humor would strike and send a smile sprouting through the tears.
“You know, I’ve learned something over these weeks.” Aaron set Izzie’s journal on the coffee table. “I’ve realized that, just because I’m sad, doesn’t mean I’m unhappy. I ache for my little girl. But I’m always going to miss Izzie, aren’t I? Just like you’re always going to miss Danielle.”
He shifted on the sofa so he was facing her. “But grief doesn’t have to be all bad. It’s all in how you look at it. It’s… it’s like a prism. If you set a prism on a table, it’s just a hunk of clear glass. But if you pick it up and look at from a different perspective, it can be a beautiful thing that reflects vibrant color. My sadness can be a beautiful expression of my love for my amazing daughter.”
Christy nodded, never having heard grief explained in such a glorious fashion.
“I’ll never get over losing her, will I?” he asked, a single tear slowly making its way down the side of his face.
She shook her head. “No, you won’t. You surely won’t.”
“How do you think she knew?”
“Knew what?” Dry-eyed now, Christy balled the tissue in her palm.
“That you’d be so good for me.”
The smile he offered was small, but she was too surprised by what he’d said to respond.
“You are, you know. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. Those phone calls were like a lifeline that kept me connected to my sanity.” Very quietly, he added, “Thanks.”
There was such intensity in his gaze that it almost became too much for her to bear.
“Hey.”
His tone turned light, and she was able to once again look at him.
“Izzie gave me some advice while we were in Ocean City,” he said. “She told me it’s important to ask for what you want.”
Despite her inner turmoil, a smile pulled at Christy’s mouth. “She told me the same thing.”
“My little princess was smart.”
“Yes, she was.”
He shifted on the cushion and cleared his throat. “Okay, so here goes nothing. I want something, Christy.”
Her cheek muscles went slack and that made her smile disappear.
“Oh, now don’t look at me like that.” He reached out and touched her satin-covered knee. “I’m going to ask. And you have every right to say no.”
She had no clue where he was going with this.
“I want to talk about… that night.”
Dread hit her like a speeding train. “Oh, Aaron. No.” She shook her head in small, swift shakes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Just hear me out,” he argued. “Just give me thirty seconds.”
She knew every ounce of dismay she felt was etched in her face at that moment. She didn’t want to do this. Not again.
“I realize,” he began, “that what happened between us on Christmas night was because you felt sorry for me. The entire trip was saturated with my fear and my sadness and my desperation, and I know that you normally wouldn’t have—”
“Wait!” Christy actually held up one hand, palm out, fingers stiff and straight, like a traffic guard stopping cars in the street. “What?” She tilted her head the tiniest fraction. “What did you just say?”
Then, without waiting for him to speak, she barreled ahead. “I thought you had sex with me because you felt sorry for me.” For some odd reason, she felt the need to offer up proof. “You came into my room after hearing me crying. You tried to comfort me… and things just went downhill from there.”
“You think things went downhill?”
Frustration had her huffing out a breath. “Aaron, I wasn’t describing the actual… act.”
Gosh, her mouth was dry as dust.
“The point I was trying to make,” she tried again, “was that the—” she searched for a word “—impetus behind the act was your compassion for me. Because I was upset.”
“Impetus, huh?” His mouth quirked.
“Don’t tease me.”
“But it’s perfect,” he said quickly. “That’s a great word for this particular conversation. It means moving force, right?” Then he gave her a full-on smirk. “Stimulus.”
“Aaron!”
“I’m sorry. I’ll be serious.” He straightened his spine. “I can’t sit here and say that I wasn’t feeling badly for you that night. But I can promise you, unequivocally, that I didn’t make love to you because I felt sorry for you.”
She blanched.
“What? What did I say?”
“You think that’s what we did?”
“Well, we might not have been in love, but…” He reached down and took her hand in his. “Christy, I imagined you must have felt self-conscious about what we did. And that’s why I apologized. I worried about it. A lot.”
“I didn’t feel bad about it until you apologized.” She watched his thumb rove back and forth across her knuckles. “It was awful knowing you regretted it.”
“I didn’t regret it.” He tipped up her jaw until their gazes met and held. “Not for a moment.”
She searched his face, but she saw no sign of guile. What reason would he have to lie?
Her smile was soft and shy, and that’s when she felt a shift in the air. Something warm and delicious
wafted around them. Aaron leaned closer, and closer, until his mouth slanted across hers.
His kiss was just as delectable as she remembered—hot and hungry. His tongue grazed her lips and she parted them for him. Hugging her to him, he deepened the kiss.
“I know it might sound crazy,” he whispered against her lips. “But I think I love you.”
“Oh, Aaron, that makes me happy.” She slid onto his lap, kissing his temple, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth. “I think I love you too.”
She dragged herself away from him, then stood up from the sofa and reached out her hand in a loving and passionate invitation.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
Christy only smiled in answer.
His fingers slid across her palm, the heat of his skin on hers igniting a fire inside her. They clasped hands, fingers entwined securely, and she led him to her bedroom, knowing with every fiber of her being that this was right and perfect for her, for him. For them.
~ ~ ~
The rich scent of coffee woke her. Christy lay there, a strong sense of wonderment filling her entire being. Was it really possible that her pillow was softer? That the sheets had somehow during the night become more luxurious against her bare skin? Even the sunshine streaming through the window seemed brighter, more vibrant. She didn’t think she’d ever experienced a better night’s sleep.
“Good morning, gorgeous.” Aaron came into the room, carrying two mugs of coffee. “I found some French vanilla creamer in the fridge, so I splashed a little of it into yours. Is that okay?”
“That’s purrrr-fect.” She sat up and slid back, so she could recline against the headboard.
He kissed her mouth, handed her a mug, and murmured, “I slept like a baby.”
She smiled. “So did I.” The mattress compressed as he climbed into bed next to her.
Every muscle in her body felt as if it had endured a strenuous physical workout, and after their bout of love-making, she knew there was good reason for it. Yet, she felt relaxed and happy and satisfied. She grinned as she brought the ceramic mug to her lips and sipped.
Stretching out her legs and pointing her toes, she said, “This is delicious. Thank you.”
Aaron trailed the backs of his fingers over her forearm. “I’ve been thinking.”
“That can be dangerous.”
He chuckled. “We’ve gone about this all wrong.”
The tiniest frown drew her eyebrows closer together. “Wrong? You think so?”
“Wait,” he said. “Let me rephrase. We’ve gone about this extremely unconventionally.”
She offered up a slow nod, even though she still wasn’t sure where this conversation was leading.
“What I mean is, we’ve done things ass-backwards.”
His foot slid beneath the covers and came to rest snuggled up against hers.
“We got married.” He grinned as he added, “Sort of.”
“Sort of,” she parroted.
“Hey, I have the official certificate.”
She just chuckled.
“We got the sex thing down almost immediately,” he said.
The sensuous suggestion in his tone conjured thoughts of his hands and lips on her body which caused heat to suffuse her chest, her neck, and her face.
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll agree with that.”
“And after learning last night that neither of us snores,” he told her, “we’ve learned the sleeping arrangements are great.”
“Hold on. Who told you that you don’t snore?”
His jaw actually went slack, but the twinkle in her eye quickly told him she was just teasing. His mouth screwed up and his eyes narrowed. She kissed his shoulder in silent apology.
“The sleeping arrangements are near perfect, I’d say,” she finally agreed.
He leaned close, until his upper arm made contact with hers, and then he bent his head so that he could whisper in her ear. “Now that we’ve got all that, you know, piddling stuff out of the way, what do you say we try some honest-to-goodness dating?”
The hope and promise she heard in his voice had love flooding through her. This man understood her. He knew, first hand, of the storms she’d faced. And she could help him weather life’s assaults like no one else could. They were good for each other.
And it didn’t hurt that he was the sexiest guy she’d ever laid eyes on.
She smiled, striving to express all the happiness and promise that made her feel as if she were floating six inches above the bed.
“I think dating would be a really good next step.”
Epilogue
Bucking tradition became their approach to life. Over the past ten months, they discovered that not conforming to the rules brought them much more delight than it should. The mutatis mutandis philosophy they’d adopted offered a sense of conspiratorial joy that both of them reveled in. And to think, Aaron had never considered himself a rebel—until he’d met Christy.
And it was in that very vein that the two of them now stood on the beach, in the dead of winter, with a pastor who was right smack-dab in the middle of performing their wedding ceremony. It was Christmas Eve, and a light snow tumbled from the sky. His beautiful soon-to-be-wife wore a sexy red dress that hugged her luscious curves, and she carried a simple bouquet that she’d put together herself. Where she found peonies this time of year was beyond him. But she’d proven to him over and over again during these past months that she was an amazing and resourceful woman. The circle of red plastic mesh she’d pinned to her hair sassily covered most of her forehead and one eye, and Aaron wanted to laugh right out loud every time the pastor’s gaze darted to it. Clearly, the man was trying to decide if that really was an onion bag on the bride’s head.
Aaron had chosen to wear shorts and flip-flops, and as the sharp, salty chill stung his skin, he realized he probably should have worn trousers. And a coat would have been wise. However, that would have taken some of the fun out the day, and they wouldn’t be outside for more than a few minutes anyway. Soon, they’d race for the cottage and the cozy fire that was just a couple hundred yards away over the sand dune.
As soon as they had stepped out onto the shore, they had worked together to gather up a mound of sand, a tiny, make-shift altar of sorts, in which they had stuck two long-stemmed white roses—one for Danielle, and one for Izzie. Every time Aaron glanced down at the pristine flowers, he smiled and marveled at the fact that the two little girls had, essentially, brought him and Christy together.
Once he and Christy had started dating, they had discovered their many similar tastes. They both loved music, and enjoyed traveling and exploring new places. Both of them harbored a secret love of real-life television crime shows, and they spent many an evening trying to be the first to guess who-done-it. The best thing they had in common, though, would have to be their love of laugher. They’d gone though so much pain in the past that they instinctively looked for reasons to smile.
As the weeks and month went by, their love for each other grew into something deep and abiding. A lasting kind of love. So the next step, they decided, was to take that make-believe marriage certificate Izzie had drawn and turn it into one that met all the criteria of the law, one that would make them a real Mr. and Mrs.
“I nuh... now pronounce you husband and wife,” the shivering pastor said. “You… you may k-k-kiss the bride.”
Aaron captured Christy’s gorgeous face between his hands and kissed her with the promise of an unfailing love that would last for the rest of his life.
“I love you,” he told her.
“And I love you.” Happiness shined in her sky-blue eyes.
“If you… you don’t mind,” the pastor stammered. “I’m g-going home. My wife will have dinner waiting. And I hope sh-she has the heat turned up.”
“Of course,” Christy told him. “Thank you for helping us today.”
“Happy Christmas to you!” Aaron called to the man who was now hurrying across the sand.
“Congratulations,” the pastor shouted over his shoulder.
Once they were alone on the beach, Aaron smoothed his hands down his wife’s bare arms, noticing the goose-bumps. “You’re freezing.”
Her smile was huge. “Yeah, I am. It’s great!”
He laughed. “My legs are officially icicles.”
“Let me see if I can warm you up.”
She kissed him then, and a fiery passion sparked deep in the pit of his belly. He loved this woman to distraction, and he would continue to love her for the rest of his days.
When he got down on one knee, her brows arched with surprise.
He pulled Izzie’s ring from his pocket and slid it onto his wife’s pinky finger, right next to her brand new wedding band.
Christy’s smile couldn’t have spread any wider. “Oh, Aaron,” she breathed. “I love it. Thank you.”
“Izzie would be so happy right now.” He stood, brushing the cold sand from his knee.
“It was an almost perfect wedding, wasn’t it?” she asked, giddiness in her voice. “And I’m all ready for an almost perfect Christmas tomorrow.”
Because they’d lost their beloved daughters, Aaron and Christy had resigned themselves to the fact that nothing they experienced, not a single day of their lives, would ever be perfect. Except one thing. One precious thing, they agreed, that was true and utter perfection.
The love they shared for each other.
Everything else would have to remain almost perfect.
She squealed with surprise when he swept her up into his arms and started toward the sand dune.
“Almost perfect will do,” he whispered.
The End
A Beautiful Stranger
A Family Forever Series
Book 1
Donna Fasano
Copyright © 2016, Donna J. Fasano
Sean Hudson arrives to claim his new daughter only to discover the adoption hinges on the impossible. Unless he finds a wife immediately, the tiny orphan will be snatched away from him forever. But before Sean can abandon hope, a beautiful stranger proposes a surprising solution—a marriage of convenience.