by Jenny Hale
“Good morning.” Carrie nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of another adult voice in the room. Once she’d recovered, she looked toward the double doorway to the kitchen where Adam was standing. She could see the shape of his strong shoulders through his pressed shirt, the masculine quality of his hands as he fiddled with the cuff, pulling it over his watch. She caught herself staring at him, and internally, she was begging herself to get it together, but there was something about him that was so magnetic, so handsome, that she couldn’t look away. She smiled instead.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked, looking at her in a way that she swore made him seem like he wanted to say something other than just that. His face was curious, as if he were surveying the entire scene around him without having to take his eyes off her. She nodded, trying to ignore her assumptions and take the question at face value. Why would he want to know anything more than how she slept? She was reading into things. The way he looked, standing in front of her, she could hardly help it. Carrie wondered if he ever let himself go. Did he ever walk around the house in socks, scruff on his face, flannel pajama bottoms? She wished he would.
Adam finally looked at his children, the edges of his mouth turned up just slightly. Then, his gaze moved along the mess on the island. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
Carrie wiped a runaway strand of hair off her forehead with the back of her wrist, wondering if she’d put a streak of flour across her face. Worry tickled its way up her neck. What if she was overstepping her bounds? What if Adam didn’t think that making pancakes at the age of four was an appropriate activity? She’d have to have enough self-confidence to explain herself, and she still felt like falling over every time he entered the room.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” she said nervously. “We’re just making breakfast.”
He nodded slowly. “Well, I’m off to work.”
She waited for the children to say, “Bye, Daddy!” and try to hug him with their dirty hands, but they didn’t say or do anything. They just watched him with blank faces. Finally, David offered a little wave. Adam held up his hand to say goodbye then turned around and headed down the hallway. Her worst fears were confirmed. These children didn’t know their own father. They didn’t have a bond with him at all. They were missing out on such a warm, kind man, and he was missing out, too. He was missing seeing their faces light up with joy, their sweet giggles, and all the tiny moments that were slipping away. Why didn’t he make an effort? What was keeping him from getting to know his children? Carrie looked at their perfect, little faces, and she couldn’t fathom how he could live with them day in and day out when they were here, and not spend every single minute with them.
“Say, ‘Bye, Daddy,’” she coaxed the children.
“Bye, Daddy,” they said in unison.
“Have a good day!” she called down the hallway as the front door shut, and he was gone.
Chapter Five
Surround yourself with positive energy. Carrie had read that once, and she believed it did help. How could the children enjoy the season when there wasn’t the first shred of Christmas in the house? With the kids finally in bed for the night, she opened her laptop on the kitchen table, holding Adam’s credit card in her hand. She typed Christmas decorations into the search bar and hit enter. With only a few more clicks, she’d put a wreath for the front door, window candles for every front window, greenery and ribbon for the banisters, more white lights than she could count, and seven boxes of ornaments into her virtual shopping basket. She hit the Purchase Now button and entered Adam’s details, making sure to choose the most expedient shipping options. On a pad of paper, she jotted down the amount she’d spent and took it into his office for his review. It was time to get this house ready for Christmas.
There were a few things, however, that she hadn’t purchased on purpose. One was the tree and the other were the presents that Adam had asked her to buy. Somehow, she was going to get him to buy both. The children were going to get presents from their father and not from her. She wasn’t quite sure how she would do it, but she was going to try. She looked at the clock on the oven. It was nearly eight o’clock at night, and he wasn’t home yet. She pulled out the dish of lasagna and put it into the oven to reheat.
As she sat in the silent kitchen, now clean with no trace of the pancake making, she felt very alone. She’d had a fantastic day with the children. They’d really enjoyed the pancakes, and after, they’d played in the snow and made the rainbow snow volcano with her food coloring. When, begrudgingly, they’d had to admit that their little hands and feet were too cold to stay out any longer, they’d come inside, had a bath, and she’d made them hot chocolate. The rest of the day, she’d spent playing games. By the time they’d had dinner, she could see the exhaustion on their faces—their drooping eyelids, their rosy cheeks. They’d fallen asleep by ten minutes to seven, leaving her an hour with her thoughts.
She wondered if Adam had any idea how lucky he was. He had an amazing home and two wonderful children who were capable of so much love. As she was putting them to bed, David reached up and kissed her cheek. “I had lots of fun today,” he’d told her, his eyes blinking from fatigue. She’d only known him a day, and he’d given her a kiss. She saw the way he looked at Adam this morning, as if he wanted to him to stay, his hand raised in the air to say goodbye, his eyes watching Adam so intently. How much David could learn from his father.
And Olivia—did Adam ever watch her as she danced? Had he seen her spin circles until she crumpled to the ground in laughter? Why hadn’t he ever grabbed her hands and spun her around? It would be so easy to do. It was as if the children were just waiting for him to make a move, to put forth some gesture of love toward them. He had so much right there in front of him, and he was missing it! One day he’d wake up and they’d be teenagers, leaving home to go off to some college far away—and he’d never get this time back. The reality of that fact was heavy on her shoulders.
The kitchen was completely empty as she sat, thinking. The black of night was on the other side of the three large windows by the kitchen table, with not a star in the sky. The big room was well heated, but she still caught the odd draft from the freezing weather outside. The wind blew the snow sideways, causing it to stick against the window. She heard the hum of the electric garage door. Adam was finally home. To mask the fizzle of energy that had sprung up inside, she busied herself with getting the lasagna out of the oven and pulling down plates. She’d planned to make him a plate, since he was probably hungry having worked so late.
He walked in and set a briefcase down against the wall by the hallway. “Hello,” he said, looking around. She could see the slight stubble on his face, the fatigue in his eyes that reminded her of Olivia’s eyes, the way his hair had begun to curl like David’s just slightly from a day’s work. “The kitchen looks considerably better than when I left it this morning,” he said, a grin playing at his lips. She could tell he was tired even though he was clearly trying to hide it. “Where are the children?”
“In bed.” Carrie pulled a serving spoon from the drawer she’d found earlier when she was making pancakes and dished some lasagna onto a plate for Adam. “I heated up some supper. Are you hungry?”
“You don’t have to make me supper each night. I don’t always come home in time to eat it, and I don’t want you going to any trouble on my account, but thank you for making it tonight. I’m starving,” he said as he slipped his coat off and draped it on a chair.
She dished out a scoop of lasagna for herself and put the plates across from each other on the kitchen table. Adam poured some wine from the fridge into two glasses and joined her.
“The kids are in bed already? Natalie was usually wrestling with them to go to sleep whenever I came home at this hour.” He placed a glass of wine by her plate.
Carrie smiled. “If you tire them out enough, you don’t have to wrestle with them. David actually asked if he could go to bed.” She took a sip of wine, hoping the
alcohol would dull her nerves. “Thank you for the wine.” She wasn’t quite as nervous tonight, but she still felt a little anxiety zinging through her as she sat alone with him. “I bought some Christmas decorations on your credit card,” she said. “I opted for one-day shipping,” she said cautiously. “I put the amount that I spent down on a sticky note on your desk.”
There it was again—that smile. He was so attractive that she could hardly manage to look him in the eye. It made her head feel like she’d had more than just a sip of her wine. She took a big drink.
“Thank you. I trust that you won’t spend my life’s savings, and I’ll get the bill, so you don’t have to write it on a sticky note for me.” When he looked at her, it caused her mind to race with thoughts she didn’t want to be having for her boss. Just that little moment had sent her head spinning. What must she look like, how much of a mess was she after a day’s work? Suddenly, she wanted to be at her best, to be all cleaned up, to look pretty, but she knew she probably didn’t.
She wondered about what kind of women he dated. What were they like? Probably nothing like her, she decided. As quickly as her thoughts had come, she reined them in. Who was she kidding? She was fantasizing about a person who was so very far out of her league that she shouldn’t have even given it a thought. He was a kind person with a friendly smile—that was it. And she loved his children already. Other than that, she didn’t need to entertain any further thoughts about Adam Fletcher.
His phone went off next to his plate and, with an apologetic nod, he answered. “Hello,” he said. She watched the skin between his eyes pucker, the way his gaze fell onto the table seemingly not registering what was in front of him—he was thinking, listening. He nodded and then with hardly a breath, set down his fork and said, “Andy, we’re talking ten states here. That’s nearly the entire East Coast. Distribution will be interrupted unless we can get them on board…” He stood up, walked across the room, and pulled a file of papers from his briefcase. “I don’t care what they say. You know as well as I do… Have you settled the deal on the facility with Robert? …Call Robert and find out what’s going on. This expansion can’t happen without those two things going off without a hitch.” His voice faded out as he left the room.
Carrie sat alone for quite some time. She finally decided to eat without him before her supper got cold. When she’d finished her food and the glass of wine, Adam still hadn’t returned. His food sat untouched. Carrie couldn’t help but feel insignificant. Whatever it was he had to talk about—whoever this Robert person was—was clearly more important than having the supper that she’d prepared. She knew that he’d said not to worry about cooking for him, but it didn’t make her feel any better. He’d just spent an entire day at work. Surely, he could make enough time for supper, if only not to appear as rude as he did at that moment. Fear swept through her as she wondered if he had ever done something like that to the children. Had he ever ignored them to take a business call? Had he ever chosen to do work over an activity that they had planned? If he had, she hoped he’d at least been more discreet about it.
After she’d cleared the dishes, Carrie made her way to her room, noticing a light on in the office. She wondered what could possibly be so important that it couldn’t wait until the next day when he was so clearly tired and hungry. What about the person on the other end of that call? Did he have a family to go home to? Was Adam requiring that person to work beyond reasonable hours? Or were they both workaholics? He’d said that some nights he came home even later than he had tonight. When did he see his children? He’d gone out this morning shortly after they’d gotten up and he came back after they were in bed. How could he cope with that?
She’d had to put his entire supper back in the fridge. Exasperation slinked through her slowly until she could feel it harden her expression. There was no reason to work like that. It wasn’t right. She didn’t know anything about what it took to run a business, but she knew what it was like to have responsibilities, and Adam had more responsibilities than just that brewery. He had two children and a life, and he was choosing work over both.
No wonder he didn’t know his children. If tonight was any indication of how he spent his days, it was clear that he was never around enough to know them. Part of her wanted to go into his office and let him know all the things she was thinking, but she knew it wasn’t her place. It made her feel helpless as she saw the faces of David and Olivia in her mind. They had so much joy to offer, if he’d let them.
She remembered the ramekin on his desk and wondered if he ate most of his meals in his office. He hadn’t had supper, and, adding to her annoyance, she couldn’t sleep, knowing that he probably hadn’t eaten since lunchtime. With a huff, and only so that she could have peace of mind, she slipped on her jeans and a sweater and went down to the kitchen. It was still dark and clean the way she’d left it. She opened the fridge, sending the only light into the room, and pulled out some sandwich fixings. She fixed him a sandwich and glass of water and headed upstairs.
As she neared the office, she could hear the sound of keys clicking. The clicking increased to a frantic pace and then subsided, then more. What was he doing? Why couldn’t he just wait? Carrie rolled her head around on her shoulders in an attempt to release the tension created by her irritation. She walked through the door, and he looked up.
“I brought you a sandwich,” she said, inwardly squirming because she’d just stated the obvious. His rudeness tonight had made her so flustered that she couldn’t get her thoughts together.
Adam’s face dropped from expectant to serious, and he looked contemplative and maybe even regretful. She didn’t know him well enough to be sure, but he did leave his supper to get cold without even a proper apology. Did he feel impolite at all for leaving her sitting there on her own? She set the sandwich on his desk and turned to leave. He was clearly busy, and she didn’t want to interrupt him. If she did, he’d probably never go to bed.
“Carrie,” he said quietly. She turned around.“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she returned, still feeling aggravated that his life consisted of this when he had so much more right in front of him. His two children and that lovely house were there, just waiting for him to make memories, and it seemed that he didn’t even realize it.
Chapter Six
Know your strengths and use them. Carrie could definitely follow this suggestion from her book.
“Let’s decorate for Christmas!” she said to the children, the front door wide open and the brick landing full of the boxes of Christmas decorations that she’d ordered. She pulled them inside one by one, dropping snow onto the oriental runner that ran the length of the hallway. David tried to get one of the boxes open while Olivia hopped up and down in excitement. Olivia had dressed herself today, and she had on her fairy tutu, a green and white striped shirt, and her bunny slippers.
“I can’t get it,” David said, his face full of concern. Carrie smiled, thinking how much he looked like Adam. He was just like him in so many ways—the way his eyebrows pulled together, the pout of his lips when he was thinking, his serious personality. Had Adam realized how similar they were? Unlike his sister, David had asked Carrie to pick out his clothes, ensuring that they were meant to go together.
“It’s okay. I’ll get some scissors from the office. Do you want to come with me?”
“Yes!” Olivia bounced up and down, and Carrie laughed. How funny that the personalities of these two twins were like night and day.
The children followed her to get the scissors, and, when she entered the office, she noticed that Adam must have taken care of the plate from the sandwich last night. She wondered what time he’d finally gone to bed. He was already gone when the kids woke her up this morning, and the coffee was cold in the coffee pot, so he must have left quite early. She opened the drawer and retrieved the scissors.
When they got back to the boxes, she asked Olivia, “Which one should we open first?”
Olivia stood, p
laying with the tulle of her tutu. “This one,” she said, pointing at the largest of the boxes.
Carrie dragged the scissors along the taped seam and popped open the top flaps of the box, revealing the Christmas greenery she’d ordered. She pulled it out, cut off the cardboard wrapping and allowed it to fall loose in her hand. Then, like an enormous spruce feather boa, she tossed it around Olivia’s shoulders.
“Oh!” Olivia said, spinning around and rustling the greenery with her fingers. “I love this! What’s it for, Carrie?” She unwrapped it from her neck and spread it out on the floor, her hands getting lost in the bunches of greenery.
“It’s going to go on the stairway banister,” she said, unable to hide her grin.
“Can I keep some of it?”
“If we have any left, you may.”
David reached in and pulled out a set of window candles. “Where do these go?” he asked, inspecting the plug at the end.
“David, can you dig around in the box and see if you can find any little light bulbs? You’ll need those for what you have in your hand. That’s a pair of window candles. Does your mommy put up window candles?”
“No,” he shook his head and reached into the box again. “Is this it?”
“Hmm, that looks like it may be a set of ornaments. Try again.”
“I miss Mommy,” Olivia said, suddenly very still. Her hands were by her sides, her face somber. “When can we go home?”
Carrie kneeled down in front of Olivia. “I’m sure you do miss your mommy. You’ll get to see her in a few weeks,” she smiled for Olivia’s benefit. David walked over, still holding the window candle, and stood next to Olivia. It was almost protectively, as if he were trying to shield his sister from her own worry.