by Viv Royce
But wait. What’s that? Fay’s shoulders were shaking. Smothered sounds broke the silence.
Emma froze, her one hand coming up to her face in shock. This is awkward. She wants to be alone. Her stomach squeezed. Please, no, nothing terrible hitting the happy Galloway family. Not again. The death of Grant’s wife had been enough.
She went over and stood beside the other woman. “Are you all right?” she asked softly.
Fay jerked upright and stared at her through wet lashes. “Emma. I had no idea you were here.” She wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just lost it for a moment. It’s Christmas stress.” She swallowed hard.
“If you want to talk about it, I’ll listen.” Emma put a hand on her arm. “And I can keep a secret.”
“Thanks.” Fay looked at her with a hesitant smile. “It’s the whole thing with Grant. I just…”
Grant? What about him?
Fay knotted her fingers. “Last year, he wasn’t even here for Christmas. He had accepted a call for help from a friend who had to take a plane out to Asia and couldn’t go at the last moment. Grant flew it out for him. I was just… I didn’t understand. I mean, Christmas is the time of year to be home, with family. Especially if you have a daughter who’s still upset about her mommy going away. But Grant wasn’t here and—this year I thought it was all different. He seemed different. More mellow and relaxed. No longer chopping down trees like a madman, you know. And then we find out he’s taking a job in Florida.” Her voice wobbled on the name as if she could barely wrench it out.
Florida? The floor shifted under Emma’s feet. So far away? I thought, I hoped—
“I guess I shouldn’t even know.” Fay wiped her eyes again and gave Emma a defiant look. “I was curious, you know, what Grant was doing at night in the workroom upstairs. I just felt like he was up to something. I didn’t mean to pry. I was just in the landing to put away the laundry and I heard his voice. I guessed he was on the phone, so I walked over and listened at the door.”
She hung her head, knotting her fingers again. “I know it was bad, but I just couldn’t help myself. It happened before I really knew what I was doing. I was standing at the door, listening in, and I overheard him talking to someone about a job in Florida, flying tourists from island to island. The Keys, you know. He was discussing all the details. Where he might live, if there was a good school there for Casey.”
The tiredness that had just been an undercurrent in her veins now hit her like a ton of bricks, pushing all air out of her. Grant leaving, for Florida, taking Casey with him. Islands, sunshine, wildlife, of course it sounded amazing. Especially to an adventurer like him. That’s why he hasn’t come by the shop. He’s busy getting everything set up for his move.
“He didn’t even tell us he was looking for a job again. Or maybe he did mention it, but I hoped—” Fay swallowed hard. “I thought that it would be difficult for him to find one.”
She sniffed. “I hoped he wouldn’t find work as a pilot anymore and stay around Wood Creek. I like having him and Casey here. It will be so quiet without them.” She sobbed again, hiding her face in her hands.
Emma clenched her hands into fists by her side. In a situation like this her first impulse was to say something to cheer Fay up. But her throat was too tight to get out any upbeat words. Any words at all. Grant’s expression came to mind as he had talked about flying, being weightless, being free. He needed that. They had to let him go.
“Sorry about this.” Fay straightened up and drew a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to spoil your festive mood.” Her features contorted as she pointed at the red wrapped object on the table. “This is for you. Grant promised you a Christmas piece, right?”
Emma nodded. That first time he had come to her shop. Why had she agreed to his offer to spend some time with his daughter? You should have known better. It’s always like this. Connect, say goodbye. Over and over.
“Grant and Casey made it for you the other day,” Fay said, “so when Mom told me that you were bringing the chocolates, I wanted to take it in, and they can give it to you. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown like this.” She forced a smile, but her features contorted as she fought new tears.
“It’s okay. I understand how you feel.” Emma wrapped an arm around Fay and patted her shoulder. I understand better than you know.
“Thanks.” Fay smiled at her through her tears.
“Your mother’s got coffee ready. We should go.”
“You’re right. I don’t want her to see me crying.” Fay rubbed her face with both of her hands, just making the blotting worse. “We can’t have that, can we? I’m not supposed to know anything yet and Grant won’t tell before Christmas, I guess. To make it easier on Mom and Dad. It would break their hearts and ruin the holidays. It will be our last time together like this.” She exhaled in a huff. “Just listen to me sounding morbid. I’m too sentimental about it, I know. We can call all the time. Maybe next year they’ll come over and stay with us for the holidays. Who knows?”
Emma’s heart missed a beat thinking of Grant, sunburned from all the island sunshine, Casey being a year older, turning a bit lanky maybe, and a woman with them, someone Grant had met out there, who could be a mother to Casey. Her stomach plummeted. No, please.
“They will come and visit,” Fay said in a tone as if she had to convince herself. “But it won’t be the same. I hate change. I just want things to stay the way they are.”
If only they could.
Fay extracted a tissue and blew her nose. “I was already sneezing this morning so if my mother asks about my red eyes, I’ll just say it’s the cold, okay? I’ll carry this.” She picked up the red wrapped present.
“Fine with me.” Emma followed Fay out of the barn and back to the house. Act normal, she repeated to herself with every step.
Mrs. Galloway was busy putting a cookie jar on the table where the mugs and coffee pot were already in place. “At last,” she said without looking at them. “I thought I had to come out and find you.” She straightened up and smiled at Emma. “Sit down.” She glanced at Fay and her eyes narrowed as if she was onto something.
But she didn’t say anything. She just went back to the sink to fetch a pitcher with fresh milk for the coffee and then they sat down, cradling their hot mugs and chatting about the fair and how much everyone had enjoyed themselves. Emma’s gaze kept returning to the present that sat in the middle of the table. Don’t cry when unwrapping it. Don’t cry.
Just as Emma was half into a muddled story about a fair she had visited as a child, the back door opened and Casey burst in, her coat full of snow. She ran to Mrs. Galloway and hid behind her. “Daddy wants to throw snow all over me,” she giggled.
Grant rushed in with two gloved hands full of snow. He skidded to a halt and looked about him as if he had no idea where Casey was.
Emma stared at him, the snow on the shearling collar of his leather jacket, the smile on his suntanned face, the teasing look in his deep brown eyes. He was just perfect. And he was leaving town. She looked down and blew into her coffee although it wasn’t hot anymore.
Casey laughed and ran around the table, scooting into the bench and sitting beside Emma. “I’m safe here, Daddy.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Emma glanced up and his eyes were on her. He lifted his hands full of snow a bit higher as if challenging her. What would be like being out in the snow with him, him coming over to throw snow at her, rubbing it across her cheeks? Laughing and pushing each other and then falling against him and his strong arms wrapping around her and holding her.
She blinked. Stop fantasizing like that. It isn’t real. Real is the Floridian job offer. He can never be yours.
…
Grant looked away from Emma. The carefree mood that had rushed through his system during the snow fight with Casey evaporated, and alertness sharpened his senses like when a cockpit meter gave an unusual reading.
He didn’t know what had happened with Emma, but, someh
ow, she had changed. A spark that had been there before was missing. He wanted to unearth the cause, but he had no manual listing possible problems and their solutions.
He went to the back door and tossed out the snow, then pulled his gloves off and threw them on the sink.
His mother clicked her tongue, but he ignored her, peeling his coat off and swinging that over a chair. He filled a mug with coffee for himself. Casey said, “We made you a present.” Wrapping paper rustled as she leaned over the table to pull it toward her. “Careful,” he warned. “It’s heavy.”
“I love that paper,” Emma said. “You can make roses from it.”
“Show me.” Casey leaned against her.
Emma touched the present gingerly as if she was afraid to break it. She tore off a bit of paper and divided it into three squares, putting them on top of one another, and then with one swift movement turned them into a small flower. “There you go.” She gave it to Casey.
“How did you do that? Show me again.”
“Let Emma unwrap the present first.” His mother took the flower from Casey’s hand and stuck it in her hair.
“Daddy said you didn’t have a tree,” Casey said. “Or room for one. But you can put this anywhere. I made the star for on top.”
Emma’s features relaxed in a smile as she scanned the single branch put upright in the pot like a little tree, decorated with golden bows and a glittery star on top. Casey had painted and cut it herself, leaving it a bit uneven. But Emma said it was perfect and hugged Casey.
He had meant to say something casual like, “That is what I call a custom-made piece,” but the words wouldn’t come. The unrest that had toured his system since the fair grew into a storm.
“I’ll show you what I made in school,” Casey said. “It’s in my room.” She ran off upstairs. The paper flower flew from her hair and landed on the floor.
His mother rose and said she had laundry to finish in the attic. “Lend me a hand, will you, Fay?”
“Sure.” Fay jumped to her feet and followed his mother.
A deep silence descended on the kitchen. Emma sat with her hands wrapped around her coffee mug, her gaze on the table. Her hair, which hung loose around her warm face, curled a little.
His hand itched to brush the hair away, tuck it behind her ear and ask her what she was thinking about. He went to pick up the paper rose and stood staring at it as it rested on his palm. He turned to her, his mind still grappling for the right thing to say. She eyed him, with a slight frown.
“What?” they both asked at the same time.
She burst out laughing. The sparks in her eyes lit up again. Good.
“I was just thinking”—she gestured with a hand—“how glad I am it’s almost Christmas and I can take a few days off.”
“We’re all looking forward to that.” Lame. So general and unpersonal. You can do better than that.
“Really?” Emma studied him with a frown. “I thought you didn’t like Christmas? Fay told me you weren’t here last year. Flying to Asia?”
“Just helping a friend.” He hesitated and then sat down opposite her. “But you’re right, I was glad to have an excuse to get away. Christmas is a time of togetherness, peace, joy. I wasn’t feeling any of those things.”
“But being away from home, in a city of millions, sitting alone in a hotel room, you can’t have felt much better.”
He scoffed. “You’re right about that. Wherever I went, the situation was the same. I missed Lily, Casey’s carefree laughter, the past. Most of all, how I never appreciated what I had.”
Emma tilted her head as if probing his remark. “Did you feel guilty?”
Got it in one. Still, he wasn’t about to tell all. He shrugged. “I guess. I had been away so often. It was something Lily and I agreed on. She had her studio, her art, the exhibitions, and Casey. I had my job, my climbing trips with pals. Lots of my friends did it the same way.” Lousy excuses.
He wanted to leave it at that, but somehow the words just kept coming. “When I was at home, I loved spending time with my family. But I also took off again, just like that. I can’t imagine now being away from Casey for even a day. Back then it was easy to go for weeks on end.” He shook his head trying to remember how he’d done it. “Somehow I never realized how…things can be over before you know it.”
…
Emma’s hand tensed, ready to reach across the table and cover his. Don’t say you understand. How could you? Losing your parents isn’t the same as losing your partner.
Grant said, “In the past I made a lot of choices I’m not proud of anymore. I feel like I should have been a better dad. I promised myself I’d change it all around. Yeah, sure.” He laughed ruefully. “Even when I’m trying, I don’t know how I’m doing, really. If I know what she needs.”
“You’re a great dad. She loves you.”
“Sure, she even loved me last year when I left right before Christmas. It was the most selfish thing, but I just had to be far away where nobody knew me and would wonder how I was doing. It was all about me.”
“That’s not true. I bet you also went away because you knew she’d feel how sad you were, and you didn’t want to ruin Christmas for her.”
“Maybe. But you know what? I came back from that trip and she ran for me and jumped into my arms.” Pushing back his chair with a jerk, he got to his feet and paced the kitchen. “That can’t be right.”
The frustration in his footfalls beat through her. But he was looking at it from the wrong angle. “That’s what love is about, isn’t it? That you don’t need to earn it.”
“Don’t you think I was a bad father leaving her like that when she needed me most? Come on, you can say it.”
She shook her head. “We’re not discussing whether you were a bad father last Christmas. You just told me you weren’t there enough, and she still loved you. Isn’t that reassuring? That she will still love you even if you make mistakes? Believe me, kids don’t want perfect parents. They just want parents, period.”
He halted as if stopped short. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking how this whole discussion is for you.”
“That’s not important.” Emma waved a hand. “Casey came to my shop to make you happy. You’re the center of her world. As long as she has you, she will be all right. Trust me.”
Grant stood tight as if ready to deny it all, then he relaxed with a sigh. His expression changed from cold and doubtful to warm and assured in a heartbeat. “You always seem to know the exact right thing to say. Thanks, Emma.”
Her heartbeat stuttered and she had to struggle to breathe normally. The warmth in his face reeled her in. Brush those worry lines away. Put your hand on his chest and tell him he has a good heart and will always make the right decisions for his daughter.
But that heart had decided the two of them were leaving town. That heart was going after a new adventure, the big open skies. And she was staying behind, with her little shop and her newfound hometown, the beginning of roots she wanted to plant firmly here into this New Hampshire soil.
“Here they are!” Casey came in, carefully carrying two colorful objects. She put them on the table and ran a loving finger across. Made of clay, they were two puppies, one painted black and white with a crooked red collar, the other brown with a blue collar. “What do you think?”
“They’re adorable. Do they have names?”
“Spot and Muffin. Bob said the brown looks like muffin dough.” Casey beamed. “Do you want one?”
“But you made them. And shouldn’t they be together?”
“I want you to have Muffin. He can watch over you while you’re sleeping.” Casey pushed the brown dog over to her.
That cute little dog would be the last thing she saw when turning off the light, the first thing when she got out of bed in the morning. In her living room the mini tree with Casey’s star would sit on the table or in the windowsill. Little touches making her apartment a real home.
“Thanks.” She gave Casey a hug. L
ooking up, she caught Grant’s eye. He stood there as if he was waiting for her to come over and hug him as well. Nonsense. You just gave him some friendly advice. Be smart, keep your distance. He’ll be gone soon enough.
Chapter Twelve
Grant lowered his little girl into bed and smiled down at her. “Ready for sweet dreams?” He was still riding on a wave of reassurance that he would do good with Casey. Maybe his doubts had been weighing heavier on his mind than he had realized. But opening up to Emma had been easy and her advice priceless. She’s special in every way.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and folded his hands around Casey’s hands so she could say her bedtime prayers. Watching her face as she prayed, her eyes closed tightly and her lashes trembling on her cheeks, tenderness crashed his chest. She was vulnerable and small, but also brave and far bigger than he wanted her to be. He wanted her to stay little always, hiding in his arms, against his heart.
“And make Emma happy too,” Casey prayed. “Amen.”
Breath escaped him as if someone had punched him in the gut. “Don’t you think Emma is happy?”
“Emma is all alone.” Casey nodded at him. “She doesn’t have a family and she doesn’t have a dog. I would like a dog.”
“You’ve got Spot.” He pointed to the clay creation on her nightstand.
“A real one.” She sat up and leaned over, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Can I have a dog, Daddy? Just a very small puppy. He won’t eat much.”
Getting a dog just as they were moving away would be a terrible idea, but he didn’t want to tell his daughter about the changes just yet. Not talking about it made it less real. Almost like an idea he could still bin. But that friend of Ivo’s on the island had mailed him about his daughter’s school which might also be perfect for Casey and included the contact information for a real estate agent who could pitch him some available houses. Smooth sailing. And still he kept scanning for the snag.
Hoping for the snag even?
“Can I have a puppy, Daddy? Pleaaase?” Casey pressed herself against him, putting on her most pleading voice.