Single Dad's Christmas Miracle

by Susan Meier

  “I didn’t see a fish place in town.”

  “That’s because I don’t work in town. I moved my office to a big, empty warehouse in between Worthington and Greenfield, the next town over.”

  “Oh.” And she knew why. He’d kept Jack out of school to protect him from gossip, but he’d moved his offices so he didn’t have to deal with it, either.

  “So, Jack, get the plates. I’ll open the boxes and we’ll have dinner.”

  They ate their fish, laughing over the fact that they would soon run out of fast food places to get supper. When dinner was over, Clark tossed his paper napkin into the basketlike container that had held his food.

  “At least we never have to do dishes.”

  “I would do the dishes tonight,” Jack said, happily gathering the boxes and paper bags to toss into the trash.

  Althea caught Jack’s arm to prevent him from leaving the room. “I have a better idea.”

  Clark peeked up at her. “Oh, yeah?”

  Her nervous system went haywire. Now that they’d talked, she understood why. His heart had been on his sleeve that morning. He loved Jack but he was afraid. Not for himself but for Jack. To a woman who had grown up in a home with a dad who hated his children, Clark’s love for his son was amazing.

  She rose from the table. “I found a stash of Christmas decorations in the attic while Teagan was napping and Jack was working. I thought we could hang the lights.”

  Clark’s face scrunched in confusion. “It’s too early to put up a Christmas tree.”

  She gave him a look, trying to tell him to keep up with where she was going with this. They’d talked about him decorating with the kids that morning so he could interject things about their mom as they decorated. She was helping him get that ball rolling.

  “I don’t want to hang lights on a tree. I want to hang them on the porch, around the railing and along the roof overhang.”

  Jack cheered, Teagan clapped but Clark gaped at her. “You want to use a ladder in the dark?”

  God, he was thick! Of course, he had worked all day and lots of things had happened to him in between this morning’s conversation and now.

  Still giving him her remember-our-talk-from-this-morning-look, she said, “There are plenty of outside lights on the front porch and around the house. Once we turn them all on, it won’t be dark. Plus, there’s a big storm coming on Saturday. We do it tonight or we don’t do it at all.”

  Jack said, “Please. Please. Please.”

  Teagan looked at her dad with a pleading expression and Althea burst out laughing. He might have forgotten their conversation, but the kids wanted to decorate. “You’re outnumbered.”

  He pushed back his chair and rose. “I’m also the one who’s going to have to climb the ladder, which will be sitting in snow.”

  “We can anchor it.”

  Clark sighed. “Yes. We can.”

  Jack said, “Yay!” Teagan danced around, hugging her bear. Clara Bell woofed.

  Clark shooed them all toward the front foyer. “I’ve gotta change into jeans. You guys get coats and boots on.”

  Jack helped Teagan with her coat and boots while Althea raced to the attic and retrieved the boxes of lights she’d found.

  By the time she slid into her coat and boots and carried the two boxes marked Outdoor Lights onto the front porch, Clark was lugging the ladder over.

  “Okay, ma’am, where do you want this?”

  His imitation of a handyman made her laugh, but he wore the same tight jeans and sweater he’d had on the day she’d arrived at his house and Althea remembered why she’d instantly been attracted to him. The soft denim of his well-worn jeans caressed his butt. The sweater accented muscles hidden by his white shirts and ties. He looked happy, comfortable.

  Her quilted jacket suddenly became too warm. She licked her lips.

  “Althea? Ladder?”

  Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. She’d been staring at him—virtually salivating over him—and he’d seen.

  She peeked up, saw his twinkling eyes. Oh, yeah. He’d seen.

  She shook her head haughtily, causing her hair to cascade around her. He wasn’t the only attractive person in this equation and she wasn’t the only attracted person in this equation. If he wanted to play games, he could bring it. She was ready.

  “Are there hooks on the roof for the lights?”

  His face contorted a bit as he thought. “If memory serves, I think there are.”

  She sashayed over, patted his forearm. “Then why don’t you just take the ladder to the left corner?” She smiled sweetly. “You climb up, I’ll hand you the lights and you can connect them.”

  His breath hissed out from between his teeth. He looked about ready to say something, but glanced at his eager kids and walked the ladder to the far corner of the house. He anchored the bottom before he slowly let it fall to the porch roof.

  She smiled. “Want me to hold it while you climb up?”

  He frowned. “I don’t think we have a choice.” Then his eyes narrowed. Probably because he realized she’d have a perfect view of his behind while he ascended the rungs.

  She laughed. “Just start climbing.”

  As he ascended the first few rungs, she handed Jack the big circle of lights. When Clark got about halfway, they unwound enough of the string that he could take the end with him. He found the hook and latched it.

  “It looks like there’s a hook about every four feet. The next time I’ll set the ladder in between two hooks.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  He climbed down. They moved the ladder. Althea and Jack took a few steps to the right as Clark ascended again. This time he connected the lights onto two hooks.

  That process continued until the front porch roof had been strung with lights.

  Clark climbed down from the ladder. Teagan yanked on his sweater sleeve. She whispered in his ear and he shook his head. “We don’t turn them on until we have all the lights up.”

  Her little lips turned down into a pout.

  “That’s what Mom used to say.”

  Clark’s head jerked up and his gaze flicked to Jack.

  Althea held her breath. Sympathy for Jack mixed with the ache she felt for Clark. He didn’t want to talk about Jack’s mom, but he had to. They’d already decided that this morning.

  A second ticked by. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  Then Clark quietly said, “She was a stickler for details.”

  The breath Althea had been holding leached out slowly, soundlessly. But she picked up some snow and tossed it at Clark. This couldn’t be a sad conversation. It had to be fun. “Like you’re not?”

  Stunned, Clark pivoted to face her. She nudged her head in Jack’s direction, hoping he’d catch her meaning. Nobody wanted to be sad. Three years had gone by. Jack needed to remember his mom in a good way. A happy way. Especially when it concerned a holiday.

  “Oh, his mom was worse.” Clark picked up the second string of lights and pointed so Jack would walk with him to the far side of the porch railing. “If you think I worry about details, you should have seen your mom.”

  Jack laughed.

  Unstringing enough of the lights that he could latch them into the hook on the porch railing, he said, “She didn’t like to shop in stores or malls. So she’d go online and pore over descriptions of silly things like ornaments for the tree as if they were family heirlooms.”

  “Someday they will be family heirlooms,” Althea reminded them. “Jack, you and Teagan should find ornaments you really like, things your mom bought, and save them for when you’re adults. They’ll be great keepsakes for your trees.”

  Jack nodded.

  Althea’s and Clark’s gazes met over Jack’s head. Clark said, “You know, we don’t talk about
your mom much. Is there anything you’d like to know? A memory you’d like to tell us?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t remember much.”

  Althea placed her hand on Jack’s back and rubbed affectionately. “Maybe you have photo albums?”

  “We have some pictures on the computer,” Clark said slowly. The subject was painful, but necessary. Still, even understanding that, Althea could see how difficult this was for him.

  Teagan sidled up to Althea and slid her tiny white mittened hand into hers as she snuggled against her side.

  Clark unstrung enough of the lights to get to the corner of the porch. Jack followed behind him, holding the neatly wound circle of lights. They worked together as if they’d done this a million times, but from what Jack had said about their Christmases they only put up a tree. Which meant these lights had been wound by his mom, Clark’s wife. That was probably what Clark was remembering.

  A reverent hush fell over the night. Surrounded by darkness, the lit porch felt like a world of its own. Clark latched the lights into the hooks. Jack followed him, the circle of colored bulbs unwinding as Clark walked it to the next hook. Teagan held Althea’s hand.

  She understood why Clark hadn’t wanted to talk about his wife. She understood why he’d let a tradition or two go to the wayside. But the damage left in the wake of his necessary healing process was the emptiness, the quiet, the silence that seemed to permeate everything they did.

  And she didn’t know how to fix it. Her own life had been a dark place. Silent while her dad worked. Filled with terror when he was home.

  Why had she ever believed she could help these kids? This family?

  She might be attracted to Clark and she might long for a real relationship, but her problems had formed her. She’d never been anything but afraid, skeptical, wary. She didn’t trust. She didn’t know how to be a normal woman, forget about being a mom. And if she got involved with Clark, fell in love and married him, she instantly became a mother. Her only example of marriage was a man who beat his wife until she so feared her husband she didn’t eat and died before she turned fifty.

  Her thoughts that morning about having a relationship with Clark had been selfish and foolish. It might have been fun to daydream about it, but he had enough problems in his life without dragging him into hers.

  * * *

  When the lights were strung, they made a production number out of the official porch lighting. Teagan, Jack, Clara Bell and Clark stood in the snowy front yard, while Althea shoved the plug into the electrical outlet. Multicolored globes burst with color.

  Clark’s nerves crackled a bit as the first good memory of his wife rolled through him. She’d always loved Christmas. Decorated everything but the kitchen sink.

  He laughed softly. “Your mom loved decorating.”

  Jack whispered, “I remember.”

  Teagan stood beside Jack. She slid her mittened hand into his. Clark saw, and his chest tightened. Teagan knew absolutely nothing about her mother.

  He stooped down in front of her. “And your mom loved you.”

  She blinked at him.

  “You were a tiny bundle of joy. She’d wanted another baby after Jack, but years went by before we got you.” He swallowed, refusing to think about the fact that it might have taken another man to get his wife pregnant. “And when you arrived it was better than Christmas.”

  She grinned.

  He scooped her up. “Now, let’s go make hot chocolate.”

  “None of that junk you make with water in that silly coffeemaker of yours,” Althea said, while they tromped through the snow to reach her. “I’m making real cocoa.”

  Clara Bell bounded ahead, racing to the front door and pausing to wait for Althea to open it. They walked into the house laughing. Jack’s curiosity and sadness about his mom abated as he helped Althea make the chocolate syrup they would ultimately mix with milk.

  Clark removed Teagan’s coat and she smiled at him, as if in approval that he’d finally talked about her mom.

  The tightness that always squeezed his chest loosened a bit. Althea cued up Christmas carols on her phone, put it on speaker and filled the room with magic.

  Magic.

  For the first time in three years, his house felt like a home.

  They drank their cocoa. Jack excused himself to go to his room to watch TV. Teagan wrapped herself around his neck and he inhaled the sweet scent of outside that still clung to her, realizing he’d never taken the kids out to make a snowman or snow angels or to have a snowball battle.

  But now he could. Now he would.

  “You ready for bed, Chai Tea?”

  She giggled, but she also yawned.

  His gaze wandered over to Althea’s. He wasn’t stupid. He owed this—being able to take the next step—to her. But he’d also noticed, at a certain point while they were outside, that she’d shut down. She still helped with the lights, but she’d been the one to suggest she push in the plug. She’d said that the family should stand together in the yard and see the lights come on together. Almost as if she didn’t want to be with them. Didn’t want to feel part of things.

  But she was.

  “Do you want to help put Teagan to bed?”

  She shook her head, smiled slightly. “Like Jack, I think I’ll watch TV.”

  “I was actually hoping you and I could have a chat.”

  “A chat?”

  He caught her gaze. “Like we had this morning.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  He knew she thought he wanted to talk about Jack and he supposed he did. But he also intended to find out what had happened out there. Why she’d shut down.

  He bathed Teagan, read her a story, tucked her in and came downstairs about thirty minutes later.

  He found Althea in the den, flipping through the channels on the big-screen TV. She hit the power switch as he walked inside. “I think that went very well.”

  “Thanks to you.” He glanced around nervously, not knowing where to sit. The only chairs in the room were at the desk. Everybody sat on the sofa when they watched TV.

  But she was sitting there...

  And he was feeling things that he probably shouldn’t, a closeness that warmed his soul. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was a good thing, considering that he was ridiculously physically attracted to her. Still, up until that morning he’d thought sending Jack to school in town would be bad. Now he knew it was necessary, a crucial step in their healing.

  Plus, she’d flirted with him. She’d tossed her hair, put her hand on his forearm, all but told him she’d be looking at his behind while he walked up the ladder.

  He laughed. Good grief. He’d made it through a decorating session talking with Jack about his mom, the wife who’d betrayed him. Sitting by a woman he liked might not be a logical next step but there was nowhere else to sit and he was done being an idiot.

  He plopped down beside her. “So what happened out there?”

  She peeked over. “You decorated with your kids and talked about their mom?”

  “No. I meant with you.”

  “Me?”

  “Everything was going fine. You were a part of everything, nudging us along, making our conversation about Carol happen and then you suddenly shut down.”

  “I didn’t want to intrude too much. It was your family moment. Something you guys needed,” she said, sounding logical and honest, but he’d been there. He’d seen her sort of back away.

  “I’d buy that if you hadn’t seemed so sad.”

  She faced him. “But it was sad. I could all but see the heaviness around Jack’s heart.”

  “And I could all but see the heaviness around yours.”

  Just as he saw it now. Her usually bright eyes had dimmed. Her always smiling mouth was a thin stra
ight line.

  He reached over and touched her hair before he even realized he was thinking about doing it. “Althea,” he said her name softly, intimately. “I’ve told you things I’ve never told another person. And it’s helped me. It’s only fair you give me a chance to return the favor.”

  She licked her lips and closed her eyes.

  And he knew he was right. Something big troubled her.

  “I’ve never talked about this with anybody.”

  “Good. It’ll put us on even footing.”

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Start with why decorating seemed to make you sad.”

  “Because my mom would try to decorate every year and my dad would come home drunk and tear down the decorations, as he called her names like worthless and lazy.”

  “Oh.” That stunned him. He’d thought she was about to tell him about an ex-boyfriend who’d dumped her. Hearing her dad was a drunk shifted his perspective so far he couldn’t quite comprehend it. “I’m sorry.”

  She sniffed a laugh, rose and walked across the room.

  She had wanted to tell him the whole story, so that he’d stop looking at her with love and respect. Yes, she’d helped him with Jack, but any good teacher could have made the suggestions she had. If it came to them dating, falling in love, or her caring for the kids like a mother for any reason, she would fail miserably. So maybe it was time to disabuse him of any fairy-tale notions he was getting because she’d figured out Jack needed to go to school.

  Pacing away, so she wouldn’t have to look at him, she said, “He would beat her. Usually every Saturday night. Missy and I would huddle in the closet and pray he’d pass out before he killed her.”

  She turned then, needing to see his reaction. She needed to see the pity that would anger her and force any romantic notions she had out of her head, force her to move on.

  But his face stayed calm, impassive. “And no one helped you?”

  “We were very good at pretending nothing was wrong. Even after he started beating Missy and then me, we could pretend we were fine in public. Missy was so perky and popular at school she was voted everything from class president to prom queen.”