He’d never mentioned a family. Only Sandra and Shelby. “Your family?”
Why had Dirk mentioned his family? Just because his mother had called repeatedly over the past week wanting to know if he was coming home for Christmas, attempting to change his mind when he repeatedly said no.
Apparently, she’d also put his brother and sister on the task as well, as both had been using various technologies to insist he come home so the family could all be together for the holidays.
As if he’d want to set himself up for another miserable confrontation. As if he’d want to give them the opportunity to force him down memory lane with photos and movies like they had the year before until he’d had enough and walked out.
A Christmas intervention. Who ever heard of anything so foolish? Anything so humiliating and embarrassing? Anything so hurtful? He’d been emotionally ambushed and, no matter how well intentioned, they’d ripped away what little balm he’d coated his raw heart with.
They just didn’t understand the ache inside him.
No one did.
How could they when they still lived inside their safe little world? Sure, they’d mourned Sandra and Shelby, but they’d moved on, forgotten. Only his mother seemed to have some understanding. She put up Christmas ornaments in honor of Shelby. A baby’s first Christmas ornament that had his precious little girl’s photo inside.
As much as he wanted his mother to keep Shelby’s memory alive, being surrounded by family only brought home just how much he’d once had. How much he’d lost.
Why had he brought up this subject? He didn’t talk about Sandra and Shelby. Neither did he discuss why he didn’t like Christmas. Not with anyone. Ever.
He’d never told anyone the details of his wife and daughter’s deaths. His family knew, of course. Sandra’s sister had shared that they’d planned to meet early at the department store. So early another car had crashed into her head-on when the driver had fallen asleep behind the wheel. A driver who’d also been on her way to an early-morning Christmas sale. All for a few sale-priced items that the recipient hadn’t needed to begin with.
If Christmas never came again, Dirk wouldn’t care, would be glad to not have to face all the reminders, would be glad not to have his family put so much pressure on him to “live life.” What did they think he was doing?
“Dirk?” Abby touched his face, pulling him to the present. Her palm was warm against his face. “Do you have a large family?”
Closing his eyes, trying to focus on the present, he sighed. “Huge.”
When he opened his eyes, Abby’s had widened with delight. “Really?”
His stomach ached. “Unfortunately, yes.”
She blinked, clearly confused. “Unfortunately?”
“Obviously you’ve never had a big family.”
Looking a little sad, she shook her head. “No, my parents were both only children of older parents. I sort of remember my grandmother, but she died when I was five and the others had passed before her. When my parents died, I went to live with my great-aunt. She died while I was in college. I always wanted a big family.”
Dirk studied her, a woman who had no family, had lost a great deal, and thought of what a bright light she was to those who knew her. “How is it you remain so positive when you’ve had so much loss in your life?”
“Everyone faces loss, although certainly there are varying degrees. Attitude is a choice and I choose to be happy.”
“Even though you’re pregnant with my baby?” He hadn’t meant his question to sound so negative. Neither had he meant to hold his breath while he waited for her answer.
A smile softened her expression. “This baby is a blessing. I might not have thought so when I first found out, but that was foolishness. Our baby is a miraculous gift. All babies are.”
He let out the breath, relaxing a bit that their baby would be loved, that Abby would be able to wrap this baby in her goodness, that she’d make up for the hole where his heart used to be. “You’re the gift, Abby.”
Clasping his hand, she lifted it to her lips, pressed a soft kiss to his fingers. “I’m thankful for you, too.”
Her eyes glittered with compassion, which usually sent him running for the hills, but there was more in Abby’s gaze. So much more.
In her eyes he saw hope. Hope that he could be what she needed. Hope that was a waste of her goodness since her hope centered around him.
Dirk’s apartment stood out in stark contrast to Abby’s house. No brightly lit Christmas tree. No wrapped packages. No Christmas spice candles. No garland or bows. Nothing.
For that matter, his apartment was stark when not considering the Christmas season. The bare necessities interlaced with a few high-tech niceties. Nothing warm and inviting.
A sofa. A fully loaded entertainment center worthy of hosting all sporting events. A square coffee table with a few sporting and medicine magazines tossed onto it. The area of the room meant to hold a dining table held a weight bench and an elliptical stair machine instead. Two stools sat in front of the bar that divided the kitchen from the open floor plan. The kitchen looked just as barren as the rest of the apartment. As if he barely lived here.
He’d been here, what? Two? Three months? Not a real long time, but enough that a home should begin to reflect its owner. Perhaps this bare one did.
Glancing toward her, Dirk paused, obviously reading her expression. “It’s a place to live, Abby.”
She nodded, aching more for him than she had since the morning he’d told her about his wife and daughter’s deaths. Emotionally, she’d continued to waver back and forth between her growing feelings for Dirk and the pending sense that she needed to ship her heart to the North Pole in the hope of keeping it out of Dirk’s clutches.
“It’s a nice building.”
He threw his head back in laughter. “Which is your way of telling me my apartment is sadly lacking.”
Glancing around the sparse rooms again, she shrugged. “Well, at least I know what to get you for Christmas.”
Christmas was Tuesday, just a few short days away, and she’d not bought him anything, hadn’t known what to get him. She’d figured she’d make him a tin full of peanut-butter goodies, but she wanted to give him something more.
His laughter faded. “I don’t want you to get me anything, Abby.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to mention Christmas at all.
They’d just stopped by his apartment so he could grab a shower and clean clothes, then he’d promised to take her out for dinner. When she wasn’t nauseated, she was starved. Today had been one of those days where she couldn’t get enough to eat.
“I mean it, Abby. No presents.” Of course, Dirk would say he didn’t want anything. She understood that, planned to get him something anyway. After seeing his apartment for the first time today, she had a much better idea of things he could use.
“But—”
“No buts. I’m serious. Do not get me a present. I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
She didn’t say anything. How could she? Dirk was the most important person in her life. She couldn’t not get him a present.
He eyed her as if waiting for her to argue. When she didn’t, he gestured toward the entertainment center. “Make yourself at home. Watch whatever you like. There’s drinks in the refrigerator. I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Abby nodded, but rather than sit on the oversized leather sofa she wandered around the barren room. No pictures hung on the wall. No little knickknacks sat on the coffee table. Anyone could have lived here. But Dirk did.
Her heart ached for him all over again. He really had cut himself off from the world after his wife and daughter had died. If not for work, she wondered if he’d have any contact with others. Until her.
She’d definitely pushed him outside his comfort zone with her Santa requests and numerous volunteer stints.
Now they were going to be parents, which definitely pushed his limit
s. Dirk needed her. Needed this baby. Maybe he didn’t realize just how much but, looking around this apartment, Abby did realize.
A loud ring sounded throughout the room. Abby jumped, looked around and spotted Dirk’s house phone.
Should she answer? Probably not.
But as the shrill ringing sounded time and again, she decided whoever was calling must really need to talk to him, could possibly even be the hospital as he wouldn’t have heard his cell while in the shower.
“Hello?” she said, hoping she was doing the right thing by answering, but knowing at the moment she was the one outside her comfort zone.
Silence.
“Hello?” she repeated, guilt slamming her as surely as if she’d peeked inside a Christmas package. She should have just let the phone ring.
“I was trying to get in touch with Dirk Kelley,” a female voice said, sounding a little uncertain.
Whoever the caller was, she hadn’t said Dr. Kelley. She’d said Dirk. Abby’s guilt over answering the phone skyrocketed. As did her curiosity and some other green monster taking hold in her chest.
“Um, this is Dirk’s number. He’s not available at the moment. Could I take a message?”
A woman was calling Dirk. Who was she? Why was she calling? What right did Abby have to answer his phone, to take a message?
Every right, her heart shouted. She was pregnant with his baby, had spent the past several days in his company, working, volunteering, getting to know him, and he her.
Silence, then, “Who is this?”
Just exactly what Abby wanted to know, in reverse. But she bit her tongue. Dirk had had another life in Oak Park. Although they’d talked a lot over the past several days, he’d shared very little of that life with her. Had there been someone special? Someone he’d left behind?
The hurt she’d felt when she’d discovered he’d been married, had had a child, and she hadn’t known came back. Why had Dirk revealed so little of his past?
“Abby. I, uh, work with Dr Kelley.” Why had she called him Dr. Kelley? “We’re friends.” Why had she added that last? What she really wanted was to insist on knowing who the caller was and why she was calling Dirk.
“Oh,” the woman said, slowly, as if digesting Abby’s answer. “That’s nice. Where is my son that he can’t answer his cell or his home phone?”
Her son? This was Dirk’s mother!
“Uh,” Abby hedged, her face flaming. “He’s in the shower.”
“Really? Or is he just trying to avoid me insisting on him coming home for Christmas?”
“Dirk’s not planning to come home for Christmas?” Abby couldn’t fathom having a family and not wanting to spend the holidays with them. Was he not going home because of her pregnancy? Or because of the past?
“He’s volunteered to work on the holidays, hasn’t he?”
“He’s working on Christmas Eve,” she admitted. They both were. “He gets off at seven on Christmas morning.”
“I’d hoped…” His mother sighed. “No matter what I’d hoped. I’m going to have to face facts. If he refuses to come home, we’ll just have to bring Christmas to him. Tell me, Abby, just what’s your relationship with my son and how good are you at planning surprises?”
Chapter Eleven
ON SATURDAY, December twenty-second, Abby watched Dirk spoon a helping of green beans onto a cheap paper plate held by a rough-looking, unshaven, dirty man wearing multiple layers and carrying a toboggan.
Was he the last person to be served lunch?
They’d fed over two hundred today. Too many people with no homes, no food, no family, no Christmas.
She glanced around the dining area of the shelter. Smiling faces. Lots of smiling faces. And chatter. Being warm and having food in their bellies seemed to have turned up the noise level. Along with gift packages that included several basic amenities, baths were being offered. Several had taken the shelter up on that offer, but most had declined.
“This was a good work.”
Surprised at Dirk’s comment, she turned to him. “Yes. All the charities I volunteer with are good works.”
He met her gaze. “You’re a good person, Abby.”
Slightly uncomfortable at the intensity in his eyes, she shrugged. “I’m no different than anyone else.”
The corner of his mouth hitched up in wry amusement. “You’re the most giving woman I’ve ever met.”
Ignoring the depth of his look because she quite simply wasn’t sure how to take it, she winked playfully. “Thank you. I try.”
“Why is that?”
“Why is what?” She wiped the metallic serving area with a washcloth, more to busy her hands than because of any spilt food.
“Why do you do so much for others?”
Feeling her face go warm, she shrugged. “My parents worked for Second Harvest. Both of them. It’s how they met. After they died, a lot of people did a lot of things to help me. I want to do my part to give back.”
“And?”
And she didn’t want to dig any deeper than that. Didn’t want to look beyond the obvious reasons for volunteering. “And so I have.”
“Why so focused on Christmas?”
She took in his confused expression. “My fondest memories of my parents all revolve around the holidays.”
He nodded as if he understood, but she doubted he did. After all, he still had a family who loved him, a family who craved to spend time with him and celebrate special occasions. A family he held at arm’s length despite their continued efforts to be close to him.
“The Santa suit you wore was my father’s.” She wiggled her fingers inside their plastic serving gloves.
“You mentioned that the day you loaned it to me.”
“He played Santa every year for various charity groups.” How she cherished memories of seeing her father dressed up, of him scooping her into his arms and telling her he was off to be Santa’s helper. Once upon a time she’d believed he really was Santa and just couldn’t tell her. The times she and her mother had gone with him had been magical. He’d always made her feel special, loved.
“Good for him,” the man who’d also played Santa for her said a bit wryly.
Abby just smiled, continuing her blast from the past. “Every Christmas Eve my father would put the suit on and put out my presents. He didn’t know I knew, but the last two years, I snuck up and watched.”
“You snuck up?” That brought a smile to Dirk’s face. “Okay, so you’ve not always been on the nice list.”
“Of course I have always been on the nice list. No way would I ever be on Santa’s naughty list.” She gave him an innocent look. “When my father had finished putting out my presents, my mom would offer him the cookies we’d made. My last Christmas with them, he pulled her into his lap on the sofa instead. They laughed and giggled and…kissed.”
“So you literally saw your mommy kissing Santa?”
She laughed. “Yes, I literally did. I thought it wonderful how much they loved each other, how much fun they had with Christmas. All I ever wanted was to grow up and be like them.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Yet you chose nursing instead of going to work in philanthropy?”
Abby stared at him, amazed at how much he saw. She had always planned to go into philanthropy. “My aunt was a nurse. She convinced me I needed career skills to see me through life. I wasn’t sure at first, but once I started school, I loved nursing.”
“And the philanthropy?”
“I love that, too. Nursing is philanthropic work in many ways. It makes me feel better inside.”
“Because you feel closer to your parents when you’re helping others?”
Abby wondered how he’d seen what she’d rarely acknowledged herself, that volunteering made her feel less alone. Particularly at the holidays, when she’d otherwise be trapped inside her house with nothing to distract her from the loneliness of having no family.
“Yes,” she admitted, “I guess it does make
me feel as if I still have a connection to them.”
“That’s why the mad rush at Christmas? Because you want to feel closer to your parents?”
“I, well, I don’t know. Possibly.” She bit the inside of her lower lip, not wanting to admit the depth of her reasons. “They were wonderful parents. I missed them so much after they were gone.”
“How did they die?”
“A house fire. Electrical wiring gone bad, according to the fire report. I was at a schoolfriend’s house for the night. Everything was destroyed except a few storage bins in the basement.” She gave him a blurry-eyed smile. “Those bins had Christmas decorations in them.”
His expression softened. “The decorations you have up in your house?”
She nodded, surprised that he’d made the connection, then mentally scolded herself. Of course Dirk would make the connection. The man was brilliant.
“I’ve added a few pieces over the years, especially to the Christmas village as it’s my favorite, and I’ve had to repair things, but, yes, my decorations are mostly all items that were part of my childhood. The only tangible parts left, actually.”
Which explained a lot about Abby’s love of Christmas. Dirk sighed, glanced up to see a latecomer standing in the food line, and forced a smile at the unkempt man.
“Green beans?” he asked the man, who was of indeterminate age. Could have been in his forties, could have been in his seventies. A lot of the homeless were like that. They lived such a rough life with exposure to the elements aging them more rapidly and were so rumpled that it was impossible to estimate an accurate age.
The man nodded, extending his plate. Dirk scooped a big spoonful onto the plate, which was already burgeoning with food.
“Roll?” Abby held one out with her tongs.
Again, the man flashed a toothless grin. “Thanks, pretty girl.”
Abby blushed. “You’re welcome.”
“He’s right, you know,” Dirk commented when the man walked over to a vacant seat at a half-occupied table. “You are a pretty girl.”
“Thanks.” But rather than smile at him, as he’d expected, she averted her gaze, wiping at the counter again as if she wasn’t quite sure how to take his compliment.
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