* * *
Beth had figured out what Ken was up to the first time he’d managed to lure her into accompanying him and Chelsea on some outing. She had clung to her resistance to his charms and his daughter’s increasingly warm reception for days, but slowly she had given up fighting the longing she had to spend time with the two of them.
Each time, though, she swore would be the last. Though the number of successful, stress-free outings had mounted, there was always a nagging worry in the back of her mind that the next one would be a disaster. Chelsea might be accepting her as a friend, but that might be more by default than any real affection. What would happen if she feared that Beth was trying to take her mother’s place? Beth was certain she knew the answer to that and it lurked on the fringes of her mind, spoiling any genuine joy she might have taken in the time she shared with Ken’s precious daughter.
She found she was dreading the approaching holidays. No other time of year was more meant to be shared by families. Ken’s determination to act as if that was what they were was as frightening as it was tempting.
This Christmas tree outing, for instance. It was just one more link in the emotional chain binding her to them. What would happen to her when the chain broke? It would be so much worse than last time, because over the past few weeks she had had a real taste of the promised sweetness of motherhood and the blessing of being loved—by father and child. It was more fulfilling than anything she had ever experienced or imagined.
There was no way to get out of the tree excursion, though. Every one of Ken’s invitations was issued almost as a dare. He was asking her to take a risk. On him. On Chelsea. On the three of them. If he was willing to take such a dangerous chance, how could she do any less?
On Saturday morning, she walked to Lou’s, wanting the quiet solitude to steel herself against the tender torment of the day ahead. Fresh snow had fallen overnight, blanketing the ground with a fluffy layer of white that caught the sun and glistened like a scattering of diamonds across soft, white velvet. Every shop window twinkled with Christmas lights and tempted with holiday decorations. Soft carols, piped over a loudspeaker system, broke the morning’s silence. She stopped for a moment just to listen.
Oh, how she loved this town with its sense of community, its centuries’ old traditions, its untainted beauty. Her growing feelings for Ken and for his daughter, only brought it all into sharper focus. This was a good place to raise a family, a good place to love, a good place to fulfill cherished dreams, a good place to grow old. Would all of that happen for her? Or would it slip away?
She looked up then and saw Ken waiting for her in front of Lou’s bakery. He was leaning against the side of his car, his long legs crossed at the ankles, his arms folded across his middle as he watched her. Smiling, her heart suddenly light, she picked up her pace.
As she drew closer, she sniffed the air and, even from half a block away, she could smell the scent of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls, sizzling bacon and fresh-brewed coffee. As a lure, it was almost as powerful as the man waiting for her.
“A bit chilly for a leisurely stroll, don’t you think?” he teased her.
“It’s all in knowing how many layers to put on.”
He grinned and reached for the top button of her jacket, drawing her close. “Too bad we’re not someplace I can strip them off and count them.”
She gave him her sassiest smile. “It is too bad, isn’t it?”
He laughed as she swept past him and went inside. She spotted Chelsea seated in a back booth, already telling Lou what she wanted for breakfast. She scowled up at the two of them.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to get here,” she said, bouncing in her impatience to get the day under way.
Lou chuckled. “You two want coffee?”
“And food,” Ken said. “We need lots of energy for the day we have planned.”
“I hear you’re going to find a Christmas tree.”
“Two trees,” Beth corrected. “One for me.”
“And a really, really big one for me,” Chelsea chimed in.
“I can’t wait to see them.”
“You’ll have to come by on Christmas day,” Ken said, surprising Beth. “We’re going to have an open house from four to six.”
Lou accepted readily, then went off to fill their order.
“An open house?” Beth said when she’d gone. “Sounds like a lot of work.”
He grinned. “That’s why I’ll need your help.”
“How will it look if you and I throw this party together?”
“As if we’re a couple,” he said readily. “Which we are.”
“Oh?”
“Sure. Everyone in town knows that.”
Unfortunately, Beth knew that was true. Gillie had been the first to pronounce them that when Beth had finally seen her elusive friend again. Invitations issued to the two of them had been arriving in her mailbox for the last week. It seemed a little late to start protesting the obvious. Surely she could get through the holidays before sitting down and explaining to Ken one more time why there was no future for them. He’d been lulled into a false sense of complacency by this détente between her and Chelsea. It wouldn’t last, though. She knew that with everything in her.
But she did have today and tomorrow and the next ten days or so beyond that, days she could cram with memories. She smiled as she gazed into Chelsea’s excited face and listened to her description of the tree they were going to find and where it was going to sit and how it should be decorated.
An hour later as they were trudging through the snow with Chelsea atop her father’s shoulders, Beth realized that her resolve wasn’t worth spit. Her defenses were toppling more rapidly than a house of cards in a stiff breeze. She wanted what she had found with Ken and Chelsea, wanted it with a desperation that she had fought and fought, all to no apparent avail.
Ken began the caroling as they ventured up and down the rows in an area that had been specifically forested for Christmas trees. Soon they were all singing, their voices wildly off-key, the words made up half the time when none of them could recall the right verses. They went from Jingle Bells to Silent Night, from Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer to Joy to the World, an eclectic mix of holiday songs that captured the season’s true spirit. Beth thought she might very well burst from sheer happiness.
After begging to be allowed down in the snow, Chelsea ran up and down the rows, picking first one tree and then another, while Beth and Ken followed at a more leisurely pace. Beth spotted the perfect tree first, a dream Christmas tree with wide, sweeping branches that would hold an array of glittering ornaments and blinking colored lights. It was too big for her house by far, but in Ken’s...
She stopped in front of it, just as Chelsea ran up, wide-eyed, and halted beside her. When a tiny mittened hand slipped into her own, Beth thought her heart might very well burst from all of the unexpected emotions crowding in.
“It’s beautiful,” Chelsea said, clearly awestruck.
“The prettiest tree I’ve ever seen,” Beth agreed.
“It’ll take up the whole living room,” Ken grumbled, one hand resting on Chelsea’s shoulder, the other on Beth’s. “We’ll have to take a foot off the top and take down the door, just to get it into the house.”
“Daddy, please,” Chelsea said.
Beth just looked at him imploringly. She was as determined as Chelsea and apparently Ken could see it. And he was clearly in a benevolent sort of mood, ready to grant wishes.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’ll go tell the man this is the one we want,” he grumbled, but Beth noticed he was grinning as he walked away.
They put the huge fir tree on top of Ken’s SUV, then found Beth’s smaller tree and put it in the back. They stopped by her house long enough to leave her tree propped up beside the back door.
“Do you ha
ve enough decorations?” she asked them. “I might have extras.”
“We have plenty of lights,” Ken said. “And I think I put one big box of ornaments in the attic.”
“And the angel for the top,” Chelsea said. “I saw it after we moved.”
“It’s a big tree,” Beth warned.
“Which is why I bought popcorn and bags of cranberries,” Ken informed her. “While I get this monster put up, you and Chelsea can start stringing them.”
“I’ve never done that, Daddy.”
“Neither have I,” Beth said.
Ken glanced at her, amazement written all over his face. “But it’s tradition.”
“Whose?” she grumbled. “In California, the decorator did the tree and I guarantee you there were no strings of popcorn or cranberries involved.”
There were so many things she’d missed in a household that had seemed to have everything. Some part of her, though, had always known what Christmas should be like, what families were supposed to share. Her parents, while giving her everything material, had offered her nothing of themselves. She knew that was why motherhood had mattered so much to her, why she had so desperately wanted to get it right. And why she had been so devastated when she hadn’t.
“Then making these decorations will be a new experience for all of us,” Ken said cheerfully. “An old-fashioned, New England Christmas.”
Two hours later Beth had jabbed her fingers with a needle more times than she cared to recall. She had bitten back a stream of curses. But she couldn’t help getting a warm feeling deep inside whenever she glanced at the frown of concentration on Chelsea’s face as she labored over the lengthening strand of deep red cranberries or the pleasure in Ken’s eyes as he watched the two of them.
They stopped at midafternoon for soup and sandwiches, then got back to work. At five they realized the box of elegant, expensive decorations they’d brought from Washington, even with the incongruous addition of several strands of cranberry and popcorn, was woefully inadequate.
“There’s still time to get to town before the stores close,” Ken said. “Let’s go. We can have dinner afterward at the inn, then finish up here.”
At the craft store, Chelsea found charming handmade wooden ornaments that were a startling contrast to the fragile glass balls they had brought to Vermont with them. In her delight over each one, it was obvious she didn’t care that the tree would be a mismatched hodgepodge. Nor did Ken seem to care that he was spending a fortune on his daughter’s whimsical choices.
“You haven’t chosen any,” he said to Beth after Chelsea had been at it for a while.
“It’s your tree, yours and Chelsea’s. You should have what you want.”
He frowned at the deliberate distancing. “It’s our tree,” he insisted.
Beth shrugged. It wasn’t worth arguing over and spoiling an otherwise perfect day.
He grabbed her hand and led her to the display of ornaments. “Pick something out,” he insisted, his jaw set.
“Ken,” she began, but the protest died on her lips as she read his expression. She had seen one just as stubborn on Chelsea’s face often enough. “Okay,” she finally agreed.
She fingered the wooden, hand-painted drummer boys, the miniature white doves, the colorful musical instruments, all carved by local craftsmen. She admired them all.
But it was a handblown glass angel that she loved. The glass was as fragile as a snowflake and just as cool to the touch. Pale traces of color had been blown into the piece, making it shimmer like a rainbow. It was meant for the top of the tree and she knew that Ken and Chelsea already had their angel, so she put it back, trying to hide her longing to own the lovely keepsake ornament.
She reached for a charming wooden nutcracker instead. “This one.”
Ken shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“You told me to choose.”
“I know. And you did,” he said, picking up the angel and handing it to the clerk. “We’ll take this one, too.” His gaze caught Beth’s and held. “It will always remind us of our first Christmas together.”
When she would have said something to counter the sentimental thought, he touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “Always,” he insisted.
Chapter 15
With the promise of always ringing in her ears, Beth sat through their dinner at the inn in a daze. She didn’t want to believe in the future. She didn’t dare.
And yet Ken seemed so certain. Perhaps he believed enough for both of them.
But as hard as she tried to have faith, she couldn’t help remembering how strong Peter’s conviction had been, how certain he’d been that Stephanie and Josh would be just fine once they were married, and how terribly, terribly wrong he had turned out to be. How could she ignore her own experience? What would it take to make a believer of her? More than Ken’s love, that was clear enough. This time she needed the love of the child, as well. She needed Chelsea’s love.
None of them savored the delicious meal. Chelsea was too anxious to finish decorating the tree. She hadn’t stopped chattering about the new ornaments since they’d sat down. Ken’s attention was focused too completely on Beth. And Beth was lost in her own tumultuous thoughts. They all said no to dessert and were on the way home by seven-thirty.
The phone was ringing as they stepped through the door. “I’ll get it,” Chelsea said, racing for it.
A moment later a smile of pure delight broke across her face. “Mommy!”
Beth stopped in her tracks, her heart thudding dully in her chest. She tried to tell herself that the child’s exuberance was only natural. She reminded herself that she had never intended to replace Pam Hutchinson in Chelsea’s heart. She had known all along the folly of trying to fight a child’s natural loyalty to a beloved parent. But there was no preventing the unexpected pain that knifed through her.
She glanced at Ken and saw that her dismay was mirrored in his eyes. No doubt he was worried, as she was, about the disruption the call was bound to cause in the insular world they had managed to create for the three of them during these past weeks when Pam had been silent.
“Guess what, Mommy, we’re decorating our tree,” Chelsea was saying. “Are you going to come to see it? I asked Santa to bring you home. I told him that was the present I wanted more than anything.”
Beth swallowed hard against the bitter knot that suddenly seemed to be choking her. There was so much hope in Chelsea’s voice, so much love still for the woman who had abandoned her. And that was as it should be, she told herself, as long as Pam didn’t dash those hopes so that the healing process had to begin all over again. At seven, Chelsea didn’t have the resilience to take another disappointment in stride. In years to come, she might, but not yet. And Chelsea’s anguish would ultimately hurt all of them.
But even as Beth watched, Chelsea’s face crumpled and her shoulders sagged. “But, Mommy, it’s Christmas!” she protested, sounding pitiful. “You have to come. I’ve made you a present and everything.”
Ken sucked in a deep breath and crossed the room, practically snatching the phone from Chelsea’s hand. Beth saw the tears gathering in Chelsea’s eyes. She knelt down and held out her arms, but Chelsea turned away, leaving her feeling totally bereft and furious with this thoughtless woman whose daughter’s needs didn’t seem to matter at all.
Not that she had wanted Pam to come to Vermont, she was forced to admit honestly. But for Chelsea’s sake, she would have tried to find a way to make it work. Now, putting her own feelings aside, she said, “Chelsea, what did your mommy say?”
“She’s not coming.”
The reply wasn’t unexpected, but Beth felt her heart wrench at Chelsea’s obvious distress. What kind of mother would turn her back on her own child at Christmas? she wondered. While she ached to share the joy of waking up on Chris
tmas morning to watch Chelsea’s excitement, the woman who had the right to be there refused to come.
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly as Ken concluded his hushed exchange with his ex-wife and hung up. “But we’ll have a good time. Your daddy’s here. Your grandmother’s coming and your Uncle Claude and Aunt Harriet. I’ll be here.”
Chelsea faced her angrily. “I don’t want them. I don’t want you. I want my mommy,” she shouted, and ran upstairs, her feet pounding on the steps as if to emphasize each bitter, hurtful word she’d screamed.
Beth took one step after her, only to have a grim-faced Ken stop her. “I’d better talk to her,” he said. He reached out and touched her cheek. “She didn’t mean it, you know. She’s angry about Pam and taking it out on the rest of us.”
“I know,” Beth said wearily. She had been through it all before.
Taking off her coat, because she didn’t know what else to do, she went into the living room and began unwrapping the new ornaments. She had them all spread out on the carpet when Ken and Chelsea finally came back downstairs. Chelsea’s pinched little face was heartbreakingly streaked with tears.
Without even looking at Beth, she methodically picked up the ornaments and put them on the branches. Beth glanced toward Ken, but his thunderous expression didn’t invite conversation. She sank back against the pillows on the sofa and felt the wonderful spirit they’d shared earlier in the day slowly evaporate until she had to wonder if it had been real at all. This, she decided bleakly, was reality for a stepfamily.
At last it was time to put the angel on the top of the tree. Chelsea stood in the middle of the floor, the two ornaments side by side in front of her—the traditional one and the brand-new one Ken had bought for Beth to mark their first Christmas together. Beth wondered which Chelsea would choose, as if that choice carried a significance that went far beyond the mere selection of an adornment for the treetop. She realized she was holding her breath as Chelsea’s hand hovered above the two angels. When she reached at last for the glass angel, Beth’s breath eased out.
One Step Away: Once Upon a Proposal Page 17