by Jenny Hale
“You were what?” he asked, his voice gentle, his face too close to hers. As she scrambled for an answer to his question, she heard that little huff of laughter, and, when she finally made eye contact, he was smiling at her. She felt woozy. Maybe it was the dark or the long day. She didn’t know. Suddenly, she couldn’t get anything to come out of her mouth. She was staring at him, to her horror. Say something! she scolded herself, but all she heard was silence. It was like that nightmare where she would scream and nothing would come out. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to be with his kids and to be with her, spend time with her. It was stupid. She wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do in a romantic situation. She’d have to buy a book on it before she could even react to any advances. But, even knowing all of that, she felt something that she couldn’t explain. Something that she’d never felt before.
“You’re not going to answer?” he asked, and she realized that she’d never responded to his question.
“I was thinking about you,” she answered honestly and then nearly fell over face-first once she realized she’d said it out loud.
He showed a look of surprise but hid it well, his eyes blinking just a little too much, giving him away. It was quick—barely recognizable except for the fact that she’d been so in tune to his expressions lately. He was probably used to hiding his emotions. In business he had to be on his game, pokerfaced. Even if someone threw him a curveball, he had to maintain composure—that was what made a good businessman, Carrie could imagine. She’d just thrown one of those curveballs. While the surprise was gone, it had been replaced by a crooked grin. It made her cheeks feel tingly, and she worried that the splotches were coming again.
She knew she’d have to explain herself, and she didn’t want to harp on the whole you-don’t-spend-time-with-your-family issue because she was almost sure that he’d heard enough of that today. But the alternative to telling him that was to tell him what she’d actually been thinking about just now—how he made her feel. She wouldn’t dare admit it; she knew how ridiculous it would sound having only just met him, but there was something there on her end, and she couldn’t explain why.
“I’m sure you’ve heard enough from everyone else,” she finally said. “I just wish you had more hours in the day.” She shifted to move away from him, their body heat under the blankets making her warm in her sweater. He shifted too as if getting comfortable, but it moved him closer to her and they were back where they’d started in proximity. Then it occurred to her: Why had he crawled into the fort anyway? “I’m in the fort because I was thinking. Why are you in the fort?” she said, glad that she’d mustered up enough courage to say something articulate.
“Mom said you weren’t at supper, and I was checking on you.” His voice was kind and quiet, the type of voice she imagined he’d have in the dark after everyone had gone to sleep and it was just the two of them. She knew better than to let herself think things like that, and the uneasiness from thinking it caused her to feel claustrophobic, the heat becoming too much, making her face feel like it was on fire. She pushed her way out from under the blankets, resisting the urge to gulp the cool air. Adam crawled out after her.
“So you were downstairs at supper?” It was forward of her to even inquire, but she couldn’t help it. She knew better by this point than to hope, but she did just the same.
“I wanted to make sure Sharon was okay,” he said. She could see the insecurity in his face when he said it.
“And was she?”
“No, she was upset.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “She wants me to spend more time with my kids and less at work. She thinks I’m taking them for granted. I see them once a month and most holidays. I knew how much time my work would require when Gwen and I discussed custody. I can’t help it that my profession requires a lot of me. Sharon doesn’t realize that I’ve lost a lot, too. I’ve lost my wife, the life that I’d tried to build with her, and a huge amount of time with my kids. Don’t you think it makes me feel guilty?” his voice was almost pleading as if he wanted her to help him fix it. “Gwen broke my trust. She ran off with someone else, and I felt broken. Work made me stronger. It helped me to refocus. Do you know what it’s like to see my own children so infrequently that they barely respond when I enter a room? It feels terrible. I didn’t just lose Gwen; I lost them too. It breaks my heart to see them stand there and look at me the way they do. The brewery is my outlet. What am I supposed to do?” he asked, exasperated.
He was on edge, his face crumpled in a scowl, his lips pressed together, his body tense—but for some unknown reason, Adam was letting his guard down. Maybe he was just falling apart, she wasn’t sure, but he was opening up to her. The fact that he could be candid with her made her feel warm despite the icy cold outside. She knew his irritation wasn’t directed at her. Everything she’d tried to get him closer to his family hadn’t worked, and she had absolutely no idea how she was going to help him, but she wanted to. More than anything.
How could she help him when his work required all his time? She understood his frustration because she, too, felt it. This was so hard, harder probably than anything else she’d ever done, but in trying, she felt strong. She was so close, she knew it. Adam was right here, being open and honest with her, which was a step in the right direction. Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, she felt confident in trying to work it out.
She hadn’t said anything, but it was as if he could read her mind. His shoulders relaxed, and his head tilted to the side just slightly, his eyes fixed on her. It was the oddest thing: they looked at each other, and for the first time, she felt like he was on her side. Like he was going to try. Carrie knew he’d still have to leave to run the business, but she had a different perspective now. He understood what the people around him were feeling, but just like her, he didn’t know how to make it any better. As they looked at each other, it was as if they were together in this. She had no experience in it. But everything inside her wanted to help him. It wasn’t because she had a crush on him or because he was very wealthy or kind. It was because it was the first thing in a long time that she wanted to do as much as she wanted to be with children. His happiness made her feel something.
Even though Carrie had never answered him—and maybe he’d meant his question to be rhetorical—he turned toward the door, opened it wider and gestured for Carrie to exit. She still hadn’t cleaned up the fort, but he didn’t seem bothered, so she followed.
They entered the hallway together, side by side. It made her feel close to him. She wondered what it would be like to be by his side all the time. Adam’s whole life was completely different from anything she’d experienced. They walked silently together as she thought about her predicament: she was getting too invested in this family. She only had a few weeks left.
A look of wonder registered on Joyce’s face as the two of them entered the kitchen together. She scanned the both of them from top to bottom like she tended to do when she was processing the situation at hand, a small smile twitching at the corners of her lips. She was holding a glass of wine, the pile of supper dishes stacked on the counter behind her. The whole family was around the table, all their eyes on Carrie and Adam. Bruce was holding a cup of dice, some sort of marble game on the table in between them all.
“You’re a bad influence on Carrie,” Joyce said with amusement behind her words. “Now you’ve got her missing meals.”
She felt Adam look at her out of the corner of his eye as he laughed gently. She was not only happy that he hadn’t taken offense to Joyce’s comment, but also that Joyce had expected her at supper. She didn’t want to look up at Adam because she knew that if she saw that smile on his face, it would make focusing on the family much more difficult. She had to remember that she was the stranger in this scenario; she was the one who didn’t fit. Would someone like Andy fit? she wondered. She knew that she couldn’t be more to Adam than what she was. She could only be what he wanted her to be, and right
now, it was just the nanny.
Sharon stood up and put her napkin on the table, causing a marble to roll across it and knock into the game board. It was the only sound in that big kitchen. “I’m finished,” she said as she scooted her chair under, standing behind it. “I’m going up to bed.” She glanced over at Adam, but this time it wasn’t an angry glance, it was a tired look, as if she were saying I’m too exhausted to get upset. Bruce and Eric both stood. To console her? Stop her from leaving? Carrie didn’t know. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just tired.” She looked at Adam again.
As she walked out of the room, Carrie remembered the desperate way that Adam had spoken in the playroom. He knew what Sharon wanted from him, but he didn’t know how to give her what she wanted or mend what was wrong between them. Carrie, too, wanted to help Sharon, but she didn’t know how either, nor did she feel it was her place. The tension in the room was thicker than the snow outside.
“Come on over, son, and have a seat. But grab us some beers on your way,” Walter said, patting the back of the empty chair next to him. “You too, Carrie.” Walter’s warm eyes, knowing smile, and gentle nature made it feel like he always knew the outcome of every argument, he was just waiting for everyone else to figure it out.
Adam grabbed three beers and set one in front of Carrie. He hadn’t asked if she wanted one, but she was glad for the gesture, because after what she’d just been through with Adam, it would certainly relax her a bit. She was pleased to see Adam was sitting down, a Salty Shockoe in his hand, because, secretly, she wanted to know what it felt like to be with him when he wasn’t pulled away by work, when she wasn’t demanding that he interact with his children. Their moment in the fort had brought them closer, she felt. She hadn’t forgotten the fact that he hadn’t bought a single present for his kids and Christmas was around the corner, but tonight, she just wanted to enjoy being with him. Perhaps he would enjoy himself as well.
“This snow is nice,” Walter said, “but I wish it would clear up so we could see Adam at his best. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in the yard with me.”
Carrie looked over at Adam for clarification, but he just took a swig of his beer, a smile playing on his lips.
“Adam chose to go away to a big, fancy university instead of one around home, but if he had stayed, he’d have played football. He was offered a scholarship to play, and he was a damn fine quarterback in high school. He could hit a target from the next town over with a football. You’d better have a ball somewhere in this fancy house, young man.”
“There’s one in the garage,” he said, playfulness in his eyes.
“I’d better not let go of my walker. You might be in trouble.”
Adam laughed. It was a big, loud, “Haha!” Carrie watched him, her heart beating like a snare drum. His laugh had dissipated into those adorable breathy chuckles that he did whenever something struck him funny. Amusement seeped out as he looked at his grandfather, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off him.
“You see, Carrie,” Walter said. Only her rules on social etiquette could make her gaze leave Adam, but she turned to acknowledge Walter. “I chose the school near home. I chose the scholarship. I was a quarterback. I only wish I could have been at my peak when Adam was at his. I would have loved to see who was quicker on his feet. I’m sure Adam begs to differ, but it would have been me.”
“You’re right, Gramps. Good thing we couldn’t have had that competition,” Adam said, his lips still set in a grin as he took another swig off his bottle of beer. “Where would my ego be today if you had outrun me?”
“I loved to play catch with my dad,” Carrie said, and both men turned to look at her, Walter’s eyebrows going up in surprise. She took a sip off her bottle. “He always said I could put a mean spin on the ball.”
“Really?” Adam said. Just as obvious as it had been when she’d hit a nerve in their previous conversations, it was clear that she’d tapped into something good just now.
“I loved watching football with my dad. I was an only child; he never had a little boy to play with, so he taught me. After every game, I’d be inspired by the players and want to go out back and throw balls with him. I can still remember how he’d say, ‘Get your fingers on the laces.’”
Just like it had said to do in her book—find something familiar—this was the most relaxed she’d been in a long time. And in that moment, she realized that she didn’t need the book to teach her how to be happy as long as she was around people with whom she could relate.
She made eye contact with Adam again, and when she did, he was smiling at her, his eyes unstill, that curiosity showing behind them, but this time, it was directed at her and not something she’d said about the kids, which caused a plume of excitement inside her. Without even trying, she’d found familiar ground. It made her wonder what more they might share in common. What else did he like? What did he want to do most when he wasn’t working? What could they do together? Looking at him now, the way he smiled at her, the friendliness in his eyes, she felt like she was seeing the real him, and suddenly—unexpectedly—she wondered about Andy. Could he be with someone like Andy? He seemed to talk a lot with her, going out for drinks and things, but did she have the same interests as him? Could she make him smile like that? He’d made her laugh; she’d seen it that day when she came over, but could she do the same for him?
“Are you hungry?” Joyce said, washing her hands at the sink. “Let me fix you a plate of food. I made chicken.” Before they’d even answered, Joyce began making Carrie a plate anyway.
This moment with Adam had been so nice. Carrie wished that Sharon had given him a chance tonight. She wished his sister hadn’t been so upset. Carrie hadn’t spent time in Sharon’s shoes, but she did know what it felt like to contemplate a future without a family of her own. She knew how frustrating it was to see Adam taking what he had for granted. But ultimately it wasn’t Adam’s fault Sharon was having trouble getting pregnant. Did Sharon realize Adam’s feelings on the matter? He wanted to do more, he just didn’t know how.
“Need anything to drink? Water?” Joyce pulled a glass from the cupboard.
“I’ll have a water, thank you,” Carrie said, looking at Adam for agreement. When she did, she could hardly pull her eyes away. He had that inquisitive expression still, as if he were trying to figure her out. Little did he know there wasn’t much to figure out when it came to Carrie. She was an open book. On the phone interview, he’d asked her all kinds of questions about herself to determine whether she was a good fit for his children. She wished that she could ask him some questions now. There was so much she wanted to know about him, but she didn’t dare ask. After all, she was working for him.
Chapter Seventeen
To ease stress consciously take time to relax. The moon was hidden behind the snow-filled clouds, making the windows a velvety black. The only light outside was the lamplight on the walk, illuminating a patch of snow. Inside, however, the living room was aglow with the warmth of the Christmas season. The tree lights glistened against the green of the Christmas tree, the crystal and glass ornaments sparkling in their light. The stockings Carrie had made with the children had dried and she’d hung them on the mantle amidst the greenery and berries. Carrie sat down on the sofa and folded her feet under her. Most of the time she did that to keep warm, but tonight, the fire in the fireplace sent a wave of heat toward her.
She’d eaten supper, and she was glad to see Adam joining them for some family time. Walter was playing the last round of his marble game and Joyce had shooed them away from cleaning up, telling them she really didn’t mind and it would go faster with fewer people underfoot. She sent them all back to the table to finish the game, and Adam and Carrie had decided to head into the living room and wait for the others. Adam set her mug of coffee onto the table and then positioned his cell phone next to his own mug. It was out of place there, screaming out its imposition. She didn’t want it there because she knew that if given the choice between be
ing there and work, he’d choose work.
Adam lowered himself down beside her, causing the cushion to slant, and she could feel the pull of her body toward him, but she fought it, shifting in her seat.
“The house looks very nice,” he said, looking around the room. “I haven’t had a chance to really enjoy it, but I’ve noticed.”
A fizz of happiness swelled in her chest. He’d noticed. When he’d originally said she could decorate, she’d thought he didn’t care, but now she wondered if he was just too busy to be worried with it. He seemed to like what she’d done. Adam was quiet and reserved, not offering much about himself, but his warmth made her feel like she knew him. He sat beside her, his cheeks rosy from the heat of the fire, a slight stubble showing on his face. He pulled his mug from the table and balanced it on his lap, his fingers dwarfing the cup as he held onto it.
“I wish Joyce would’ve let us help,” she said, smiling despite herself.
“She’s like that,” he smiled. It was good to see Adam relaxed, and she was happy to be with him.
Walter laughed in the kitchen, and it made her smile. But it also made her realize that Adam wasn’t playing the game with his family. Did he feel obligated to keep her company? Carrie suddenly wondered if she was intruding.
“What’s the matter?” he asked just as she could feel the sting of the splotches as they returned.
“What do you mean?” She couldn’t think of anything better to say, but she knew he’d seen the splotches—they disclosed her emotions whether she wanted them to or not. He waited as if giving her more time to formulate a better answer. “Do you want me to let you have a little family time?” she asked.
“No, why? It’s nice to have some company over coffee.”
“I like being with you too,” she said, looking down at her mug, but inside she wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head. He’d said he liked having a cup of coffee, and she’d just said she liked being with him in general. She pressed her lips together to keep any more of her thoughts from slipping out. His quiet laughter caused her to look up, and when she did, she realized he was smiling at her—a big, happy smile. She’d not seen his face light up like that before.