by Nina Milne
‘Thank you.’
In truth he had no idea what to say—he couldn’t remember the last time he had been on the receiving end of a personal gift. His lips twisted in a rueful smile—in a sense he was still on a par with Max and Tara, et al.
Slipping a hand into his pocket, he retrieved his present for Ruby and sudden trepidation shot through his nerves. ‘Here’s yours. Ladies first.’
‘Oh... You didn’t have to. I know you don’t really believe in Christmas.’
Ethan shrugged. ‘I... I thought that...seeing how much effort you put into the teens’ gifts...the least I could do was—’ He broke off. He was doing it again. ‘I wanted to.’
He had wanted Ruby to have a present that someone had thought about. Okay. Make that agonised over. How long had he spent in that stupid jewellery shop? Irritation caused his fingers to drum on his thigh as he felt his heart thud faster—he wanted her to like it way too much.
A yearning to see her eyes light up banded his chest as she carefully unwrapped the green embossed paper, held the dark blue jewellery box and then snapped it open and gasped, her lips forming a perfect O of wonder.
The pendant glittered, diamonds on white gold, shaped into an exquisite simple star. When he’d seen it an image of Ruby as she’d handed him the star to adorn the Christmas tree had popped into his mind.
‘Ethan. I... I...can’t accept this. It’s not right. It’s...’
‘It’s yours.’
Though by ‘not right’ maybe she meant she didn’t like it...
An image of his mother that terrible first Christmas after Tanya’s death flashed across his mind. Her wooden expression as she opened his gifts. The sear of knowledge that he’d got it wrong. That without Tanya he meant nothing to her, couldn’t get it right. All those hours spent agonising for naught.
Maybe he should have learnt—stuck to something generic for Ruby. Better yet, he should have given her a Christmas bonus—a cheque, a banker’s draft. Going personal had been a mistake. Ethan Caversham didn’t do personal.
‘You can exchange it if need be.’
‘Exchange it?’ she echoed. ‘Why would I do that? It’s beautiful. I meant it’s too much.’
‘It’s a gift, Ruby.’ It occurred to him that she was no more used to gifts than he was. ‘I want you to have it.’
‘Then thank you.’
As she took it from the box he thought for an instant that she would ask his help to put it on. Relief warred with disappointment when she lifted it herself—the thought of his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her neck had strummed a jolt of pure desire through him.
‘Now open yours.’
An absurd sense of excitement threaded his gut as he unwrapped the first gift, the bright paper covered in images of Father Christmas bringing a smile to his lips. It was a smile that grew as warmth touched his chest.
In his hands was a painting of Caversham Castle. The artist had captured the sheer brooding history of the craggy mound of medieval stone, imposing and grand, made to defend and dominate the landscape.
‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’
‘Open the next one.’ A small frown creased her forehead. ‘Like I said, this was an impulse buy and if you don’t like it I won’t be offended...’
As he pulled the jumper out of its silver wrapping paper a chuckle fell from his lips. ‘A Christmas jumper.’ A cable knit in dark blue, it was patterned with reindeer. ‘It’s inspired—and what better time to wear it?’
‘You mean it?’
Surprise and a smile illuminated her face, and for one heartbeat full of exhilaration he nearly succumbed to the temptation to sweep her into his arms and kiss her.
No! There was personal and there was personal.
Instead he tugged the jumper over his head ‘Of course. Now, let’s go!’
A few minutes later and they were all layered up. Once outside, Ethan sucked in the cold air; welcomed the hit to his lungs and brain. Perhaps the cold would freeze some sense into him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RUBY STOLE A sideways glance at Ethan and tried to confine the tornado of her thoughts. Yeah, right. Containment continued to elude her, effectively held at bay by the sheer nearness of Ethan as they settled under the heap of blankets on the carriage seat. Ruby clenched her jaw—she would not even contemplate the word snuggle.
Somehow she had to keep perspective, had to chillax and not read more into Ethan’s actions than there was. After all, she had earned a diploma in that. Yes, he had bought her a beautiful Christmas gift—instinctively her hand rose to touch the diamond pendant—but that was because Ethan was a good man who tried to give people second chances.
No doubt he had simply wanted to do for her what he had wanted to do for all those troubled teenagers. In fact he had practically said so...so there was no point to this continued analysis.
Time instead to concentrate on the beauty of her surroundings, which was enough to catch the breath in her throat. The ground was covered in snow, as if someone had taken the time to weave a thick white duvet to cover the landscape and then sprinkled the bare branches of the trees with a dazzling glitter. It was beautiful—glorious—magical. The silence was broken only by the chime of the horse’s bells, the huff of his breath and the crunch of his hooves in the snow.
‘This is beyond incredible,’ she murmured with a sideways glance.
Ethan’s expression was unreadable, but the vibe she got from him was edgy—as if he too battled complicated thoughts.
Her words caused him to blink and give a small shake of his head. ‘I’m glad you’re enjoying it,’ he said. ‘Not too cold?’
‘Nope. The last time I saw snow was in London, and it had turned to slush before I could truly appreciate its beauty. This is spectacular.’
Now a genuine smile touched his lips as his gaze rested on her expression. ‘I hope you’ll like the next item on our agenda.’
‘Which is...?’
‘Sledging.’
‘For real?’
Excitement fizzed inside her and collided with a pang of emotion as a memory jolted her brain. Years and years ago she’d taken her siblings out into the snow. She’d carried Edie, who hadn’t been able to walk yet, Philippa had toddled beside her and Tom, aged just four, had raced ahead with a joyous whoop. They hadn’t gone far, just to a local park to watch the children sledge.
How she had yearned to have a go. But there had been no sledge, and she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to themselves. But it had still been a good day—they had made a snowman, thrown some snowballs, before Ruby had realised that there were some adults clearly wondering why they were unaccompanied and she’d quickly herded her siblings together and left.
‘Is that okay?’ A small frown touched Ethan’s face as he studied her expression and she did her best to erase the hint of wistfulness, the shadow of memory from her face.
‘It’s better than okay. I’ve never sledged before and I would absolutely love to.’
Ruby let the memory go with the silent hope that her siblings had had plenty of opportunity to sledge with their new family. Allowed the fizz of excitement to take ascendancy.
Minutes later the carriage drew to a halt and Ethan helped her alight. ‘Here we are. It’s a resort, but we have passes.’
They lingered for a moment to thank the driver and pat the horse, and then she turned and once again the scenery caused the breath to whoosh from her lungs. Snow glistened in the distant trees of the forest and crunched underfoot, thick and soft all at the same time—the way she had imagined stepping on clouds would be as a child.
They entered the resort and headed to the sledge hire desk.
The woman behind the counter smiled. ‘Would you like a paret, a disc or a toboggan?’
Ruby stared at the
options. ‘I’ll go for a toboggan.’ On the basis that it looked the safest. The paret looked to be a mixture of a tricycle without wheels and a stool, and the disc looked as if it might well career round and round out of control. As that was her current mental state, there was no point adding a physical element.
The woman smiled. ‘I promise they are all safe, mademoiselle. They are designed to be safe for children as well as adults.’
‘I’ll try the paret,’ Ethan said.
Ruby narrowed her eyes. ‘Show-off.’
That garnered a smile. ‘Think of it as research. It’s occurred to me that I could offer moonlit paret sledging as a part of a holiday package.’
They exited the building and she inhaled the tang of snow and pine, absorbed the bustle of people and the sound of laughter. Took courage from the happy vibe.
Until they reached the top of the slope.
‘Um...’ Ruby peered over the edge.
Suddenly the snow was reminiscent of clouds only in the way that if you tried to walk on a cloud you would plummet downwards. The ground was a turreted mass of white, under which surely there would lurk hidden dangers.
‘You worried?’
Daft. She was being daft. This was an official slope, suitable for tiny kids. All she needed to do was look around again and observe them.
Her heart gave a sudden thump. Just a few feet away a mother with a baby in a sling helped two children get onto a sledge. A dark-haired boy and a younger little girl with blonde curls. The world seemed to fall into slow motion and for an absurd second she nearly ran towards them—until common sense drummed its beat.
That wasn’t Tom and Philippa. Tom would be twenty now, and Philippa nineteen. Even if they were here she wouldn’t recognise them. They were adults.
For a second, loss shredded her insides.
‘Ruby?’ Ethan’s rich voice held a question and a heap of concern.
For a mad minute she wanted to tell him the truth, in the hope that he could soothe the pain.
With muscle-aching effort she pulled herself together. Confiding in Ethan would only add to the intimacy she was trying to fight. In any case Ethan didn’t welcome emotional intensity; he hadn’t ten years before and he wouldn’t now.
‘I’m fine. Just chicken, I guess. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?’
‘No. You look like you’ve seen a ghost. We’re going to the café.’
‘I...’
‘No arguments. First rule of snow sport. You don’t do it unless you’re focused.’
Maybe he was right. Either way he wasn’t taking no for an answer and willy-nilly Ruby followed him towards the café.
* * *
Ethan held the café door open. The smell of coffee jumbled up with the aromas of vanilla and almond and Christmas spices. Carols filled the air with a choral hum—a festive backdrop to the chatter of families and the clink-clank of cutlery. Usually the scents would have triggered a smile, but Ruby seemed enmeshed in thought.
Even an almond croissant and hot chocolate didn’t bring more than a perfunctory smile to her face.
‘You want to talk about it?’ Even as he spoke the words he knew it was a foolhardy query. The invitation to confide, to share, was not one he would ever make as a rule. Panic threatened—an echo of a decade ago. He was letting her get too close. But how could he help it? When she looked to be in such pain, with her usual vividness drained? He wanted to help, to make it better for her.
If he had any sense he would never have let things get to this point—maybe he should have let history repeat itself and cut and run.
Chill, Ethan.
Time to remember that he was ten years older now, ten years wiser, and this time he would be able to control the situation. There could be no danger in an offer of support and it would be an impossibility to withhold that support.
‘If you want to talk I’m here.’
Her eyes met his with a hint of surprise, palpable hesitation, and a small determined shake of her head. ‘It’s Christmas. You’ve gone to all this trouble. I’m sorry to be a Debbie Downer.’
‘You aren’t. I promise. Ruby, we both know that Christmas can be an emotive time for people with difficult pasts. Talk to me. I know your childhood Christmases were grim. Maybe I can dilute some of your tainted memories.’
One more heartbeat of a pause and then she exhaled. Picked up the steaming mug of hot chocolate and cradled it, her eyes wide. ‘I guess for a moment out there the past arrived from nowhere and knocked me for a half-dozen. Those children on the sledge next to us... For an instant they reminded me of my younger brother and sisters.’
The words registered in his brain—generated a host of questions. If Ruby had siblings where were they now? Why did the memory of them haunt her?
Her gloved hand pushed a tendril of hair from her face and she sighed. The noise escaped into the chatter-tinged air with the sound of age-old sorrow and weariness.
‘Tom, Edie and Philippa,’ she continued. ‘I told you my parents were addicts. One of the ways they funded their addictions was via benefits. The more children they had, the more money they got. I was the oldest, then Tom, Philippa and Edie. I was six when Tom was born, and I can still remember the awe I felt when I first saw him—such a tiny scrap of humanity. I felt welded to him. Same with the girls. All I wanted was for us to stay together as a family, and I vowed I would do whatever it took. Mum and Dad told me that it was up to me—that they couldn’t do it so I had to be strong. I had to be responsible. I had to lie to social workers and school teachers. Had to make sure everyone believed we were a happy family.’
Ethan’s chest constricted at the sight of her face, whiter than the snow that glittered and glinted outside. He could picture a much younger Ruby, her expression oh, so serious, tucking an unruly curl of dark hair behind her ear as she concentrated on changing a nappy or manoeuvred a heavy pan of water onto the hob.
‘That must have been tough,’ he said softly.
‘It was and it wasn’t. I loved them all so much, you see—and I told myself that Mum and Dad loved us really. But the cold hard truth is that they used us. More fool me for ever thinking otherwise. Even after it all went wrong, when I screwed it up, for ages I still kidded myself that they loved me.’
‘What happened?’
‘I couldn’t hold up the façade and it crumbled down. We were whisked away into care. They couldn’t find a carer to take all four of us so we were split up. We went from being a family unit to having visits in a social worker’s office once a week if we were lucky.’
‘That must have been beyond terrible.’
‘It was.’
Her words were flat and in that moment he knew that it had been unfathomably horrific.
‘I fought for us to be placed together, or at least near each other. But nothing I said made any difference. The social workers said that we were better off like that than with our parents. But it didn’t seem that way to me. Sometimes I even pictured my parents missing us so much that they would turn over a new leaf and we’d all go back to them.’
She laughed—the noise devoid of mirth.
‘I take it that didn’t happen?’
‘Nope. They turned up to see me once—stoned and drunk—hurled abuse at me and the social worker ended the meeting. I’ve never seen them again. No idea if they are alive or dead.’
He placed his hand over hers, wished he could find words to convey his feelings.
‘Time went—and one day a social worker came and told me she had good news. An adoptive family had been found, but they would only take three children—Tom, Edie and Philippa. I was too old and too difficult. I’d been acting out, and they figured it would be bad for the others if I was placed with them.’
She paused, her blue eyes wide and unfocused, as if she had t
eleported through time to relive the moment.
‘The social worker explained that if they waited, kept trying to find someone to take all of us, it might end up that none of us got adopted—or that Tom, Edie and Philippa would end up separated. She promised me there would still be contact. I’d still see them. But it didn’t go down like that. Tom Edie and Philippa moved in with their new family and I was told there would be no contact whilst they settled in. I fought it—I went on and on to the carers, to the social workers. They told me I had to wait. That I was being selfish. Then one day I decided to take matters in my own hands. I bunked off and went to their school. I was so desperate to see if they were okay. That’s all I’d ever done, you see.’
Her hands gripped the mug of hot chocolate so hard he leant over and prised her fingers free, retained her hand in his grasp. He could envisage her so clearly; frantic and determined, fuelled by a love that gave her the strength to do anything for the sake of her siblings.
‘It was the end of school—I saw them run out to a woman who I knew must be their new mum. She looked so pretty, and like she adored them, and they looked so happy. It just needed Mary Poppins to make it complete. Not me.’
‘Oh, jeez, Ruby...’
What could he say? What could he do to fix this? To mend the void that echoed from her voice? Helplessness gnawed at his insides and he did the only thing he could. Moved his chair round the table in the hope that his body, his presence, would offer some comfort.
‘After I saw that I knew what I needed to do. I told the social worker that I didn’t want to see my siblings for a while. That I understood it was better for them to integrate into their new family. Eventually, with a social worker’s approval, I wrote them a letter to tell them I loved them but a clean break was better for all of us. I knew it was right—my presence in their lives would only make everyone feel bad. Their new family would feel bad for not being able to take me, and Tom and Edie and Philippa’s loyalty would be divided. That wouldn’t have been good for them. So I decided there and then that I would try and be happy for them.’