A Merry Little Christmas

by Catherine Palmer

  Her hair was drawn back into a tousled, last-minute ponytail, but the escaped strands curling down around her lovely face only made her look more dear. Her head was slightly bent over the new comic book, the gentle G-rated story of the latest adventures of Wonder Boy. She closed the softbound book and added it to the small stack she carried.

  As if she could sense him standing there, she turned toward him, not surprised when their gazes met. Locked. A spear of sorrow sliced through him; it was her pain he felt. The fragments of her sorrow and broken hopes cutting deep.

  He went to her. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It wasn’t even something he was aware of. Suddenly he was beside her and he’d folded her against his chest. She clung to him, her free hand curled tight in the fabric of his shirt, leaning against him tentatively, as if she were uncertain, as if she expected him to take a step back and leave her standing alone.

  No way, lady. He tightened his hold on her, splaying a claiming hand at her nape. He could feel the graceful column of her neck, the bump of vertebrae against his palm. So fragile a woman, so Herculean her heart.

  Tenderness blinded him. He breathed in the wholesome, vanilla scent of her shampoo and treasured the silken feel of her hair against the bottom of his chin. Yeah, he was falling for her—hard and fast. There was no stopping it.

  “I’m sorry.” She pulled away.

  It killed him to let her go. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to take away every drop of her pain. Overwhelming love struck like the leading edge of a full-scale blizzard, but when he would reach to draw her close again, she took a deliberate, almost frightened step away.

  “I’m sorry.” She set her chin, determined. “I just had my feet knocked out from under me. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, it’s okay,” he told her, cutting her off before she said the words he couldn’t stand to hear—that she didn’t care for him, that she didn’t want him. “I noticed you weren’t in church yesterday. Jessie?”

  Agony twisted her face. Answer enough.

  Sorrow left him weak-kneed. “You were waiting on test results.”

  She nodded, wrenching away. “Sh-she’s declining very rapidly.”

  “She could go back into remission again, couldn’t she?” He waited but she didn’t answer. “There’s a chance, right?”

  “Anything’s possible.” But in her heart, she knew the answer. Amanda fought to hold on. She would not break down. She would not give in. She had to be strong—for her children’s sake. “That’s why I’m here. We’re having Christmas early this year. So that Jessie has one more Christmas at home, in case—” She cleared the emotion from her throat. “In c-case she d-doesn’t—”

  She couldn’t say the words. She refused to think the words. The possibility was too catastrophic to contemplate. Christmas might come too late for Jessie this year.

  “Is that why you’re here? Buying presents?” he asked.

  “For our celebration tonight. She has to go into the h-hospital tomorrow. The doctor said to take this last day and make it count.”

  “Then let me help you to do that.”

  Her rigid self-control broke at the weight of his hand on her back. The soothing connection, the solid feel of his strength made tears burn in her throat. Tears she would not let fall. One day left, that’s all she had to give her daughter before hospital beds, doctor’s visits, painful IVs and scary procedures. Isolation and progressing illness and no comfort anywhere. “I don’t see what you can do, Colt.”

  “I can be here for you.”

  Like a friend, of course, that’s how he had to mean that. But her heart shamefully wished for more. Needed more. “Do you want to come tonight? Jeremy would love to have you.”

  “Even if I’m not a superhero?”

  How did she admit that she thought him super enough?

  He leaned closer still, so that they were nearly nose to nose, breathing the same air. “How about you? Do you want me there?”

  Better stay away from that with a ten-foot pole. It was safer, less revealing, less vulnerable to stick to the facts, Amanda thought, as she moved a step back. “Turkey dinner’s at six-thirty.”

  “Can I bring anything?”

  “Just bring yourself.”

  “No. I will help you. End of discussion.”

  “But—”

  “You should be home with your daughter, not running errands.”

  The next thing she knew, he was holding the books that had been in her hand, and the lump of emotion that had been searing her throat was now blurring her vision.

  “Great. And I have your list, too.” He rocked back on his heels, looking pleased with himself, radiating a strong essence of strength and uprightness. The kind of man who stayed when the going got rough.

  To her, he was too good to be true. She couldn’t find the right words to tell him so; she could only gaze up at him and pray that her heart didn’t show. That she could find her way to the door and walk away from this man, so kind and dependable, who made her want to dream when she was all out of dreams.

  Her footsteps sounded hollow as she headed to the door. “I have an account at most of the stores here in town. Just have them add those things to my tab. Maybe I should speak to—”

  “I can handle it.” He cut her off, speaking so calmly and in command that she could see him running a company. She could see why he’d been so successful in life.

  Yes, I can handle it, too, she told herself, her hand sliding to her mother’s cross. She would be strong enough. And if she wasn’t, then she would wing it. She would somehow get through, doing her best for her kids. For Jessie. She would give her a loving, wonderful Christmas before it was too late.

  The bell above the door chimed merrily, strangely at odds with the bitter, heartless snow falling. Always, endlessly falling.

  Amanda looked up from draining the potatoes at the sink, an odd awareness shivering through her. A few moments later distant headlights hovered in the darkness far down her driveway, growing closer until it became a big black truck lumbering to a halt in the meager reach of the carport’s lights.

  Realizing all the water was gone from the pot and there was nothing pouring out but steam, she set the potatoes on a nearby trivet. Her attention remained on the man silhouetted in the faint glow of dash lights. She felt the brush of his gaze, of his sympathy through the darkness.

  Why did he have such a hold on her heart? Even when she willed away her feelings for him, there they remained, tenacious and deep-rooted. Any affection for Colt was simply not allowed. Gratitude, yes. Friendliness, yes. Appreciation, yes.

  Love? No.

  “Let me add some milk and butter to those potatoes.” Vi shouldered close, searching through the drawers for the whisk. “The gravy’s bubbling, the beans are cooling. That leaves the potatoes, and I can whip them, if you want to go greet our esteemed guest. It was real decent of him to come help us celebrate.”

  “Very.”

  “He called me, you know. Asked a few things about gifts for the kids. Clothes sizes. What kinds of things they liked. And a few other things.”

  “What other things? He had my list. Everything we needed to have for tonight was on it.”

  “I suppose he has his reasons. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s been a real help to us, hasn’t he? Jeremy’s heart has been less burdened, since you told me about their talk. It’ll be a shame when Colt heads back to California. Do you figure he’ll stay through the holidays?”

  “No. I suppose he has his brother and friends to celebrate with.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Vi sighed, measuring milk from the gallon jug. She’d given up on her well-intended suggestions about Amanda needing a good man in her life.

  They both knew she didn’t need romance; there was nothing she wanted more than for Jessie to live and see another Christmas. No, to see eighty more Christmases. That’s what she wanted, Amanda thought, and she’d trade anything, give up any happiness for herself for that to ha
ppen.

  Although she’d already tried that bargain with God, too, to no avail.

  Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she glanced over the counter separating the rooms, aching for the sight of her daughter. Jessie was wrapped in her favorite pink blanket, in her warmest flannel pj’s, although the woodstove kept the house toasty. She hugged Brittany Bunny with both hands, motionless in Uncle Ed’s arms. Her dear button face was so pale, she looked bruised.

  My poor baby. Seeing her like this was simply another blade to her heart. Amanda tore her eyes away, willing down every sorrow. This was not the time for tears but for treasuring every moment she had with her child. Still, no matter how hard she tried, sorrow choked her.

  Needing something to do until she could get her emotions back under control, she headed toward the kitchen door and hauled her coat from the rack. The freezing storm pummeled her, and she let it, glad to feel something other than sadness. Snow scoured her as she hurried down the freshly shoveled walkway.

  Colt slammed his back cab door, balancing an enormous cardboard box in his arms. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Coming to help you.”

  “Some help you’re gonna be if you freeze. You’ve got no hat, no mittens.”

  “Neither do you.”

  “Yeah, but I’m tough. How about carrying the ice cream and pie? They’re in grocery sacks on the front passenger side.” He popped the door open. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as peppermint ice cream.”

  “You apparently don’t know what’s important in life. Peppermint ice cream with chocolate sundae syrup is one of the best desserts in life. I thought a classy guy like you would know that.”

  “Ice cream is one area where I’m lacking. I’m a workaholic. That leaves little spare time for dessert.”

  “No dessert? That simply can’t be a good way to live.” She swept the bags from the floor mats, taking care to hold the bag with several pies in it level. “You know, we only need one pie.”

  “They had a sale.” He shut the door and walked to keep her in his wind shadow. “I don’t know much about pies, either. I’m apparently lacking a lot.”

  “Restraint, too? What is in that box? That’s a lot more than what was on my list. What did you do, go buy out the toy store?”

  “Pretty much. You said you wanted to make this a good Christmas for Jessie, right?”

  “Sure, but—”

  “Merry Christmas.” He leaned close and closer still until they were eye to eye, nearly mouth to mouth.

  Was he trying to kiss her? Startled by the idea, she took a step back.

  He stared down at her with his dark eyes unreadable, silhouetted by the porch light behind them. He pushed open the door. “After you.”

  Oh, so he’d been reaching for the doorknob, that was all, she thought as she stumbled through the doorway. He hadn’t been harboring romantic thoughts toward her. How embarrassing. Maybe it was because, under different circumstances in a different place in her life, she would fall in love with him to the very bottom of her soul.

  She held the door, leaning on it a little for support, feeling her spirit stir as he shouldered into the kitchen.

  Jeremy bounded into sight. “Colt! Colt! You came! You came!”

  “Sure I did. Look what I’ve got. You want to help me put this under the tree?”

  “You know who else brought presents on Christmas Eve Night?” Jeremy leaped toward the living room. “The Wise Men! We got the story on TV right now.”

  Colt lumbered through the kitchen, excusing himself to Vi, who was holding the bowl of steaming homemade dinner rolls and had to wait for him to pass. “Goodness, is that all for the kids?”

  Amanda nodded, unable to speak. As she shut the door, she could see Jessie perk up, her blue eyes sparkling with wonder as Colt knelt down before her, letting her peer into the box. The big man and little girl spoke, their words lost in the background noise.

  Oh, how her heart ached with the sweetness. Amanda shrugged off her coat, snow sluicing to the floor mat.

  Vi returned from setting the rolls on the table. “What a blessing. This is just what we all needed. This might be a last-minute celebration, but the spirit of the holiday, the goodness in men’s hearts, is reassuring, isn’t it?”

  Amanda’s throat tightened and she couldn’t speak.

  “Oh, what do you have there?” Vi took the plastic grocery sacks. “How many pies does that man think we need? Well, better too much than too little. Oh, there’s a chocolate cream. Bless him.”

  He did seem heaven-sent.

  Amanda made a place for the ice-cream cartons in the freezer, sending sidelong glances toward the living room. Ed had taken Jessie onto the floor, where she watched, her hands clenched with excitement, as Jeremy and Colt took the gifts from the box and spread them beneath the colorful, festive tree. Over them all, the treetop angel cast her light like a blessing, a shining hope, from above.

  For one perfect moment, it was as if there was no such thing as cancer. As if such a horrible thing could never exist. Just the merry voices of children oohing and aahing over the beautifully wrapped presents topped by foil ribbons and bows. The flash of tree lights and the glint and gleam of ornaments.

  For one perfect moment, it was a joy-filled Christmas Eve, like any other, like so many they’d had in the past.

  Vi announced dinner was ready as she carried the platter of sliced turkey to the table. Amanda hurried to grab the last of the serving bowls, wishing she knew how to hold on to this perfect moment of grace.

  And to make it last.

  It was like looking at the past and the present side by side, like the picture in a picture feature on his television. Colt stuffed in the last bite of pie, already way too full from the delicious meal, and let the tastes of chocolate and whipped cream and cookie crust remind him of Christmases past.

  Of his mom, when she was alive, hurrying around the apartment, after she’d rushed home from work, filling the kitchen with the scents of good things to eat. More important were the family traditions of ham and gravy, mashed potatoes and green beans—his brother had to have green beans—and chocolate pie.

  Sadness hurt like a broken rib, all the family he’d lost—his dad, then his mom, and the traditions that went with them. Last Christmas he’d spent alone at his Malibu property with his computer humming and his work spread out in front of him. He hadn’t minded it…at least, that’s what he’d told himself.

  Jeremy had said something to make everyone laugh; Colt had missed what it was, lost in thought. But he didn’t miss the flash of merriment that reflected in the faces of the people surrounding him at this table. Ed’s grandfatherly kindness and wry humor making a comment that sent Vi and Amanda into a laughter fit. Something about a Christmas disaster years ago, when Amanda’s mother had been alive.

  He’d never seen her like this, bright with laughter, beaming with happiness. She was luminous. Relaxed. Cradling her daughter in her lap, one hand pressed gently, soothingly against the curve of Jessie’s downy head, holding her close. She pressed a kiss to her child’s soft hair, clearly treasuring this time with her.

  She doesn’t deserve this. Jessie doesn’t deserve this. No one does. Emotion—a tangle of frustration, injustice and grief—jackhammered against his sternum. Never had he felt so helpless. Or so moved by the tides of his heart.

  The sudden scrape of a wood chair against linoleum rang above the clang of flatware and the conversation. Jeremy hopped to his feet. “Is it time for the presents now?”

  He’d hardly been able to sit still through the meal. Maybe he’d gone a little overboard in the toy department, Colt thought as he laid the fork on the empty dessert plate. But the truth was, he had two more equal-sized boxes in his living room, ready as a surprise for Christmas morning. The pleasure of thinking about how happy the kids were going to be changed him, too.

  “Please, please, please?” Jeremy hopped in place, bursting with excitement. “Pleeeease!”

/>   Ed burst out laughing, Vi chuckled softly and pure love shone in Amanda’s eyes. “Goodness, don’t bust a seam, Wonder Boy. I suppose we could do presents now.”

  “Yaaaaaay!” Jeremy bounced around the table, shouting all the way, as hyper as if he’d inhaled a pound sack of sugar. He hopped in place as if his feet were springs, waiting for everyone else to catch up with him.

  “Gotta put a new disk in the camera first.” Ed shoved away from the table and rummaged around in the kitchen.

  “They’re in my purse, Ed,” Vi called as she rose to help him.

  From his chair in the corner, Colt had a perfect view into the shadowed kitchen. The long-married couple took a private moment at the far end of the kitchen, side by side, searching through their things. Ed’s arm went around his wife and he whispered something in her ear. Pure love shone on Vi’s face, apparent even in the darkness.

  Now that’s what I want. The wish came from the deepest places within him. It was providential, wasn’t it, that he’d never felt this soul-deep longing before, until he met Amanda. She cradled her daughter as she rose from the table, her gaze finding his over the top of Jessie’s red-gold curls. Happiness glinted through the tears in her eyes, joy shining up through the sadness.

  He followed her into the living room with the flash and glow of the Christmas tree. Jeremy had dropped to his knees, looking but not touching, vibrating with anticipation.

  “I’ve got the first present all picked out,” he said the moment Colt crouched down next to him. “It’s that one. It’s for Jessie.”

  “It’s good that she gets the first one,” Colt agreed. “Here comes Ed and Vi. Wait until he gets his camcorder in place, okay? I bet he wants to give your mom some really good movies of tonight.”

  “It’s takin’ forever.” Jeremy was trying so hard to restrain himself.

  The instant Ed had settled into the recliner and said, “Film rolling,” the boy leaped into action. He grabbed the gift for his sister and flew across to the couch where she snuggled cozily in her mom’s lap.