A Family by Christmas

by Viv Royce

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Dogs aren’t goldfish. They need a lot of care.” He peeled her away from him. “It’s time to sleep now.”

  “I asked Santa for a puppy.” Casey beamed at him. “Maybe he will bring one.”

  Grant already knew “Santa” would be smarter than that but didn’t want to ruin his daughter’s excitement. “Who knows?” He kissed her on the cheek. “Now sleep.”

  “Where’s the golden bird?” Casey asked. He thought she was already sleepy and not making sense. “We had a golden bird back home in the Christmas tree.”

  In a flash, he was back at that last Christmas together in their suburban home. The tree dominated the room, all dressed up with ornaments and bows and glittering lights. Lily’s doing of course. While she put the last decorations in place, Casey had run around the tree, pointing out how much space there was underneath for all of the presents.

  Those decorations. He had packed them up with so many other boxes from their home when he had sold it off because he couldn’t bear to live there any longer. The boxes had come with him from Chicago, were shoved into the attic here. To look at later, when he thought he was ready for it. And there they had sat until now. Untouched.

  Casey made a soft sighing sound. Her eyes were already closed, and it seemed she was drifting into sleep already. No wonder after their wild snowball fight.

  He brushed her forehead with a grin. He’d go up and look for the golden bird and the other decorations. Maybe he could even bring in a small pine and they would decorate their very own tree. It could be in another corner of the living room. Mom and Dad were surrounded by trees, one more wouldn’t matter to them. Casey’s Christmas surprise. Can’t wait to see her face.

  …

  Emma accompanied the elderly woman to the door of her shop and smiled at her. “Thank you very much. I hope your grandkids love the chocolates. And merry Christmas.”

  “Thank you. I’m really looking forward to seeing them again. It has been ages. Merry Christmas to you.” She made her way gingerly across the frozen snow, the bag with her purchases on her arm.

  The smile on Emma’s face faded away. Christmas had been her lifelong enemy, everyone talking about who they were going to spend it with, what fun it would be. She had longed for January when her life didn’t feel quite so empty. But this year she actually had a place to go to and people who would be happy to see her.

  People she longed to be with for a whole night of food, games and some early presents. Her teapot for Mrs. Galloway was bought and wrapped up.

  But every time she saw it sitting beside the couch, her breath caught as if she was standing on top of a ladder knowing she could plunge down. It isn’t safe at all.

  It hadn’t been from the start. She had known it and still she had pushed on. Seeing Grant more often, agreeing to Casey’s singing scheme. Oh, there had been enough solid reasons. Just helping out, making friends in her new town. But her heart didn’t buy into the friends thing. It wanted more.

  If only Grant would stay around town a few months longer.

  No, it’s good this way. You would have given yourself away.

  Maybe she already had?

  Grant had shot her a few probing looks. Like he wanted to read her thoughts. Good thing he can’t.

  Or did she even want to? He was going to leave. It might be her only chance to…

  To do what? He wants to go, and you have to stay here. For the shop. She stared at her counter full of chocolates, the little Christmas tree on top, the gold and silver decorations strung along the shelves. Everything she had prepared with love and joy. Her lease of the building ran for four years. Signing those papers had provided the stability she had longed for.

  But there was more to life than work. Grant had showed her that. It had been so easy to let her guard down and talk about things she never mentioned to anyone. He and his daughter had been inside her heart before she had known it. She didn’t want to fight it. Just give into it, enjoy the ride while you can.

  The phone rang and she rushed to answer it, grabbing a pad to write the order on.

  She tried to listen to the customer describing the bonbons she wanted. But Grant’s face kept intruding, his smile, the little changes in his expression when he listened attentively or was focused on something. His roaring laughter resounded around her, and her cheek tingled under the memory of his hand brushing her face, securing the strap of the helmet under her chin.

  Just like Grant to make sure you’re safe. It’s his instinct, nothing more.

  I love you, Emma. She pressed the pencil down on the paper so hard the tip broke. Those words she wanted to hear, over and over. Kids love one thing one day and another the next. Casey will forget you, make new friends in the place she’s going to live.

  Emma blinked against the burn behind her eyes. She had better steel herself or she wouldn’t be able to make it through Christmas Eve with the Galloways without crying. And she didn’t want to draw attention. She had to be strong. Smile even though inside she felt like everything was over.

  …

  “Are your eyes shut tightly?” Grant asked, leaning over to his daughter to study her closely. She giggled but nodded. “Really tight, Daddy.”

  He held his hands behind his back, the golden bird in them. The one she had asked about. Going up into the attic, his enthusiasm had been tinged with dread at facing the things he had put away after his wife’s death for the first time, but it hadn’t hurt as much as he had expected it to. Lily’s system had even made him smile, the felt-tip markings on all the boxes leading him straight to the Christmas ones. She had always been organized, something at odds with the image people had of artists as chaotic.

  To be able to unearth the decorations without having to touch all the other stuff had been a gift from her to him.

  And standing there for a moment, thinking of his earlier life, and of what it had become right now, a reluctant conclusion had darted through his mind: that he wasn’t a disaster as a single father after all.

  Sure, he made mistakes, but he also knew how to get through to his daughter when she was angry or sad. He knew how to be with her without even saying a word. He knew how to help her when she was afraid, simply by giving her a hug. He was there for her; in ways he had never been before.

  And Casey had grown so much from a sad, shy little girl into a beaming, eager, and curious girl who looked at the world with wide open eyes. He could still hear her singing at the fair. That had been amazing. All because of Emma too.

  “Daddy, what are you waiting for?” Casey sounded impatient.

  “Right. Hold out your hands. Open, palms up.”

  Casey stretched out her hands and opened them, expectation trembling in her entire tight posture.

  Grant produced the golden bird from behind his back and held it out to her. Gently he placed it in her hands. “Now you can look.”

  Casey snapped her eyes open. She stared a moment, then gasped. “It’s the golden bird. You found it. I thought it was gone.” She held it to her face and pressed a kiss on it.

  “It’s all still here.” He stepped aside so she could see the table in the back of the room on which he had placed the boxes with Christmas decorations from the attic.

  Casey gasped again and ran over. “Oh, the crown with the glitter. And the snow heart. And the other birds with the fluffy tails.” She swung around, her eyes alight. “Can we put them on the tree?”

  “Even better. I cut off a tree for the both of us. Our tree.”

  “Our tree,” Casey repeated. She smiled a wide, almost disbelieving smile. “Can we decorate it together?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  Casey danced through the room with the golden bird clutched in her hands. She stopped and asked breathlessly, “Can we do it now? Do you have the tree?”

  “Yes, it’s outside, waiting for you. Go and see.”

  Casey whooped and ran to the door, returned to put the bird tenderly down in the tissue paper inside one
of the boxes. Then she rushed outside.

  Grant followed her, his heartbeat racing. Casey stood at the tree he had leaned against the house. It wasn’t big, but it was meant for her to be able to reach up to the top and decorate. There was a haze of fresh snow on it and Casey brushed it off the branches.

  “You can come live with us now, tree. You will be very pretty. I’ll give you a very special name. Like I did for Mr. Winter. He liked his name a lot. I could tell by his nose. It wiggles when he’s happy.” She looked up at Grant. “Can Emma come and help us decorate?”

  Grant blinked at the sudden suggestion. Or was it the breathless rush through his veins, saying, yes, Emma, of course she has to be here, let’s go get her?

  He reached up and rubbed his face a moment as if he was undecided, stalling for time.

  “Please?” Casey hung on his arm. “It won’t be the same without her.”

  “Okay.” He checked his watch. “I can ask her when she might be free to come over to us. She does have a shop, you know, she can’t just leave whenever she wants to.”

  He could of course call her, but he had to go into town anyway to deliver a few last-minute Christmas cards to the post office. They’d never reach the recipients in time, but his mother had insisted on writing them anyway.

  Grant grinned to himself. He leaned over and tapped Casey on her nose. “I’ll go and ask her. You look through the boxes and make a plan for the tree, okay?”

  “Yes, I’ll make a drawing of what has to go where.”

  Every inch my little girl. Nothing ever works without a plan.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Merry Christmas to you too.” Grant waved back at the post office clerk before stepping out of the sliding doors back into the chill of new snow. The flakes whirled around him and he could barely see the other side of the street. He turned up his collar and stood a moment, inhaling the cold and rubbing his hands, before sticking them into his pockets and hurrying along the shops with their festively dressed windows. He walked faster as he came closer to Heart Street, his heart skipping a beat every few paces. A sign on the sidewalk blocked his path, reading: Perfect Christmas gifts: charms. The red arrow above pointed at the jewelry shop to his right.

  Charms?

  He studied the pictured examples of a gingerbread house, a sleigh and a Santa. It’ll have to be a Christmas tree. A memento of her first fair and first Christmas in Wood Creek.

  He had never set foot in Wood Creek’s jewelry shop so far, but now he gave the family-owned business an appreciative once-over as he stepped inside: nice display windows with fake snow pasted to the glass and a luxurious Christmas wreath on the door, probably bought at the tree farm.

  “Hello, Grant.” Mrs. Rivers smiled at him. “Can I help you?”

  “I’d like a Christmas tree charm. It’s a present.”

  “Oh, for Casey? How sweet. We have several options.” She reached under the counter and presented him with a tray decked with blue velvet and a ton of charms attached to it. Dogs and swans and Eiffel towers. I had no idea there were so many.

  She pointed at the bottom row. “We have Christmas trees in silver and gold. With tiny gemstones too, for ornaments.”

  Emma’s charms were all plain silver. I don’t want her to think I’m showing off. Just a small gift. “A silver one will be fine. That one with the white top maybe?”

  “That’s enamel representing snow. Such a cute touch.” She took it off. “Do you want us to attach it to the charm bracelet?” She eyed him expectantly as if he could produce said bracelet.

  She thinks it’s for Casey so… “I don’t have it on me. I saw your sign in passing and just stepped in.”

  “No problem. You can do it later.” She put the tiny tree in a black box and wrapped it in paper with candy canes.

  A gold-rimmed mirror on the counter reflected his face. He reached up and rubbed his jaw. Stubble. You should have shaved.

  He raked a hand through his hair to model it. A few gray hairs here and there. He wasn’t twenty-five anymore, and it showed.

  Yeah, since when has that bothered you?

  “That’s eighteen dollars, please.”

  He dug out his wallet and paid.

  She put the colorful package in his hand. “Merry Christmas to Casey.”

  He muttered a goodbye and left the shop, clenching the wrapped box in his hand. The corners cut into his palm through the wrapping paper. He had looked at himself through another’s eyes. Emma’s eyes. Did she think he was old?

  Emma, with her dimples and loose hair and soft hands and…

  He had checked himself out in the mirror as if he was sixteen again and going on a date. Inviting the girl he liked to a trip to the movies or a spin in his father’s car. What is this? What’s happening to me?

  He looked down at the package in his hand. A gift, right, a small thing, between friends. Friends?

  Who had he been kidding? There was this warmth when they touched, this protectiveness he felt when people weren’t nice to her. The tenderness that swept over him when he had seen her making the heart gesture to his daughter. After all she had done for them, it was logical he wanted to give back to her, right? But it wasn’t that straightforward. His gut had been telling him ever since the fair.

  Even before that. When she had almost fallen, and he had locked her in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to let go again.

  Could he actually be… Uh? No. That is not happening.

  Grant stared at the box, holding the charm as if it had become a ball of fire. No, he wasn’t doing that. No feelings, no risks, no complications. Nothing potentially dangerous. He was just building his new life, trying to be a decent dad, finding a job.

  You accepted a job, in Florida. You’re leaving Wood Creek. Emma is staying. She made that clear.

  She wanted stability now after all the forced changes in her life. Plane rides had never meant freedom to her but uprooting, disorientation, having to start over, again and again. His dream was her nightmare. They couldn’t be together not even if he wanted to.

  And he didn’t. He had everything worked out to a T. A job where he could work and still care for Casey. A beautiful place to live, wildlife to explore. A dream come true for the two of them. He had to focus on Casey. On their life together. Nothing more.

  He turned away from Heart Street and hurried back to his car. He’d tell Casey that Emma was too busy with her shop to come help decorate the tree. It would be a lie and he did hope Emma wouldn’t find out about it later.

  I can’t do this. It beat through his brain in the rhythm of his rushed footfalls. I can’t watch her smile at Casey and reach out and put the golden bird in place.

  Grant dived into his car and gripped the wheel so tightly his hands hurt. He tried to squeeze some reality into his foolish heart. There was no time for tenderness, there was no room for feelings. He had to stick to his plan.

  He turned the ignition on and drove off, putting distance between him and Heart Street where Emma worked hard over her chocolates in her little shop.

  He had to prepare himself for facing her again on Christmas Eve. She was invited to spend time with his family so he couldn’t tell her she couldn’t come. It would be rude, and she didn’t deserve that. She had been so sweet to all of them. Casey loved her.

  For Casey’s sake he would just be kind to her, nice, friendly. He would make sure he didn’t sit next to her so their arms couldn’t accidentally touch. He would make sure he didn’t look at her too often and couldn’t embed in his memory how she talked and smiled and…

  No. He absolutely wouldn’t think about her race across the snow to build snow dogs.

  The light on her face when they had lit the lanterns, his arm around her shoulders.

  No. January normality was right around the corner. He’d be diving into the move and all those distracting emotions would fade away. I just have to get through the holidays.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emma stepped out of the car clutchi
ng the paper bag holding the wrapped teapot for Mrs. Galloway. With her free hand she smoothed her dress down. The fabric was cool under her touch, as cool as she longed to be. She had been so jittery all day about seeing Grant again. Her stomach twisted in knots at the idea of having to eat anything. How could she get through this night?

  Take a deep breath. You can do it. You wanted a Christmas with friends, now you’ve got one.

  Mr. Galloway, who had picked her up, smiled at her across the roof of the car. “Let’s go inside. They’re waiting for us.”

  Grant on the lookout for me. Emma’s heart made a little jump. Act normal. It’s a family thing. Not a date.

  She followed Galloway up the steps and into the house. The smell of pine on the air was more pronounced than last time, though mixed with spicy scents from things cooking in the kitchen.

  The heat enveloped her, and she shrugged out of her coat right away. Galloway took it from her and hung it on the rack. Fay waved at her from the doorway into the kitchen. Bob at the hearth lifted a hand in greeting and then returned to his newspaper. Casey scrambled to get up from her place on the floor where she was doing a giant puzzle and ran to greet her. “What’s in that bag? Is it a present?”

  Emma leaned down. “Yes, for your grandma. She shouldn’t see it yet. Where can I put it?”

  Casey scanned the room. “Behind the sofa?”

  “Great idea. You put it there. Careful, it’s heavy.”

  Holding the bag with both hands, Casey carried it to the sofa.

  Emma focused on her, ignoring the whispered question inside her. Where is Grant?

  Did he take a job over the holidays, like last year?

  Casey came back to her. “Done.” She grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “You have to see this. Daddy cut a tree, especially for the both of us. Look at it. Isn’t it pretty?”

  The tree was about the perfect size for a little girl. There were golden bows, a heart with frosted snow on top, birds in different colors and sizes scattered across the branches. Some of them had long feathery tails, others had sequins on their chest, reflecting the light of the colorful little lamps blinking. There were even small presents underneath, in silver and golden paper with tags attached.