by Robyn Neeley
“I do hate to cut this reunion short, but my friends are waiting. I hope you enjoy your visit to Chicago, and it was delightful to see you again.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, unsure how to fish for further information without infuriating her ride home. She started to turn, but he caught her arm.
“Wait. You must let me know how to contact you.” He brought her in close. “Maybe I know people. If you still dance, that is.”
Penelope smiled. Asking outright for his information seemed too bold an act for her to do, but she liked his style and this was a better end result than she could have dreamed of from a chance meeting. She ripped a page out of her notebook. He offered the use of his back as a writing table, and she burst out laughing at his courtly ways.
Upon receiving the paper, he sputtered out a thank you that sounded more like “Dankoo.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Felix. Oh — do be sure to see the Georgia O’Keefe and the photography collection. There are some wonderful landscapes.” She smiled and once again they kissed each other’s cheeks. Walking across the room, she gave Felix a finger wave over her shoulder. He remembered her from her experimental dance days. Back when dance was all about the art and adventure, not about a steady paycheck. She missed those days, but as her career wound down, she valued that stable income and its ability to help her prepare for the future. But as she moved through the crowd, noticing how Carson and Eloise both cocked their heads slightly to the left as they studied a Matisse, she wondered what the cost of that stability might be.
• • •
The whole production escalated his bitterness. Penelope, the woman he considered risking his heart for, was not only leaving town, but flaunting other men in front of him. He couldn’t have invented the heat between them, but given what he witnessed, he decided to curb his overactive imagination. She clearly cared about Eloise, but apparently he meant nothing to her. Perhaps she was, as Sue had suggested, out for an easy hookup. His jaw clenched and his grip on his daughter’s shoulder tightened to the point where Eloise twice asked him to ease up.
His anger justified his intrusion on Penelope’s day with Eloise. What would have happened if he hadn’t been there to care for his daughter? She would have run off with this other guy and Eloise could have been lost, or worse yet, abducted before she even noticed. Casting her as irresponsible worked well for him. He couldn’t dismiss the physical cravings he had for her, but his heart hurt less thinking of her as someone who’d abandon a child for her own selfish gain.
She touched his arm. “Sorry about that.” He nodded, not wanting to engage in conversation. Her brows knotted as if she was thinking of something else to say, but then she quickly turned her interest to his daughter.
She crouched before Eloise. “Is this your drawing? It’s lovely.”
“It doesn’t look like that painting very much.”
“That’s okay. Think about how many paintings we’ve seen today that have fruit or flowers in them. They all looked different.”
Eloise wrinkled up her nose, making her “thinking face” as she continued.
“Every person sees the world a little bit differently.” She touched her fingertip to her nose. “Some people, like you and the artists on display here, just express their ideas better than others.”
Eloise smiled, folding up her notebook. Carson accepted the book, thinking how in different hands, his little girl might have switched into tantrum mode, becoming angry at herself for not “drawing right.” She was so good with her, helping her feel special for who she was, and not imposing her ideas of how his daughter should be.
“Are you hungry?”
Eloise nodded.
“Me too.” Holding hands, the two of them rose. “Let’s go the café. My treat.” He noticed the pointed way she looked at him as she spoke the last two words.
He refused to let her kindheartedness toward his daughter soothe his anger. He needed to hold on to his that hostility. If he let go of that anger, it would make it easier for her to turn his life inside out and wreak further havoc with his heart in the process. As they left the gallery, he yanked her close, hissing in her ear. “What the hell was that back there?”
She flashed an impertinent grin. “Networking.”
Her flip response angered him more and that was a good thing. She valued her career over everything else and given how she’d shown off her legs and kissed that guy, she would do anything to advance her career. No matter how good she was with Eloise and no matter how good her mouth tasted, she was a careerist and that was that.
He followed as they walked through the galleries to the café at the back corner of the museum. Along the way Penelope occasionally stopped and pointed to some of her favorite pieces. She got Eloise to talk about what she liked and why. She tried engaging him. too, particularly when he stared intently at a Chagall she loved, but he grumbled that he didn’t want to intrude on their special day.
As they ate lunch, Penelope and Eloise shared their sketchbooks with each other, giggling at how different their two copies of the same painting appeared. He sat back, eating, but not really tasting his sandwich. His mind tumbled over the same thoughts. How would he and Eloise get through her leaving their lives? Would anything convince her to stay and take a chance on him? On them?
Eloise’s voice interrupted his meanderings. “Miss Penny? Was that man you kissed your daddy?”
“No, sweetie.”
Eloise jumped in, disappointed. “Then you must be married to him.”
He loved listening to her logic, wishing the world were really as simple as it seemed to his daughter. He knew as she grew older her questions would become more complicated and his ability to reassure her would lessen. Already he had a lot of trouble trying to convincingly perpetuate the lie that the world was a good place.
“I’m not married to him or anyone for that matter. Why do you ask?”
“Because you only kiss boys that are your daddy or you got married to or maybe are your kids if they’re boys, and I know you don’t have any kids because you didn’t have toys at your house.”
She tousled Eloise’s hair. “Oh, there are other reasons to kiss somebody.” Her melodic voice had a faintly suggestive air.
He kicked her under the table. He hoped she had the good sense not talk about the birds and the bees. He wasn’t ready for that parenting step yet. He doubted he’d ever be ready. She retracted her legs, shooting him a harsh stare before turning back to Eloise and continuing in a matter of fact manner.
“That man is from a different country. He makes up dances that people perform all over the world. I met him in Europe. There, people kiss on the cheeks to say hello instead of shaking hands.”
“Even if they are smelly? Sometimes Grandma Sue smells yucky, but Daddy says I still have to kiss her.”
“Eloise! Mind your manners!”
“Sorry, Daddy.”
• • •
The drive home passed amicably. Eloise looked through the book of postcards he bought in the gift shop, alternating between begging Penelope to look at the pictures and asking both of them about the buildings and billboards they passed. He took a cue from Penelope. Rather than explaining the same ad over and over again, he asked Eloise to invent a story about the people. Soon they were swept up in this new game.
By the time they pulled into her driveway, he realized they made it through the trip without once discussing what Eloise wanted for Christmas. Not that she’d shared with him what she told Santa that day at the Patterson house, but he wondered if she’d asked Penelope to be her new mommy. She certainly seemed willing to ask her anything else. He wouldn’t bring it up. Although, if Penelope weren’t so focused on her career, so intent on leaving town and him …
“Thank you both for coming to the museum with me today. I had a lot of fun, especially seeing all your beau
tiful drawings, Eloise.” Eloise giggled at the compliment. Penelope grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling ever so slightly, drawing his attention to her eyes. He fought the impulse to kiss her. The smart thing to do would be to push her out the door, throw the car in reverse, and put as much space between them as possible.
Before he could act, her smile faded. She moved her hand to the door pull, but stopped short.
“Oh, Carson, I almost forgot.” She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a slim wrapped package, complete with a crushed red ribbon. “A little something for you.”
She rotated toward the back seat. “Eloise, don’t feel left out. I dropped off a present for you at your house earlier.”
“I know. I saw it. It’s so pretty. Can you come to Grandma and Pappy’s house tomorrow morning and watch me unwrap it?”
She formed an exaggerated pout. It was easier to fight his attraction when she overacted, but harder for him to question her overall sincerity. “I’m spending Christmas with my family tomorrow, just like you get to spend a special Christmas with your family. You’ll have to take pictures to show me.”
“But I want you to be my family.” The thump of her foot on the seat shook the whole car. His body tensed, not in response to the movement but to brace himself against the oncoming explosion. He didn’t want this to escalate. Not in front of her.
He coughed, hoping the noise would derail her. “Eloise, it would be rude of us to invite a guest to Grandma and Pappy’s house, and I’m sure Miss Penny wants to see her parents and grandparents and brothers and sisters tomorrow.”
“But I don’t have a brother or a sister or — ”
He employed his stern father voice. “Eloise Patrice.”
Penelope hopped in. “Santa is so busy checking his naughty or nice list that he doesn’t have time to make last minute changes about where to deliver goodies to those on his nice list. We should stick with our own plans, but maybe you could call me later in the day and tell me about what a special day you and your daddy are having.”
The ease with which she saved him both irritated and pleased him.
Eloise rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Okay, but will you give me a hug?”
“Of course.” As Penelope stretched into the backseat, her hem rose higher and higher. He wanted to give her thigh a little tickle to see if she would react, perhaps leaning closer to him. His body responded to her proximity, but his mind said stop. She’s leaving town. She’s leaving you.
Chapter 8
Carson loaded the presents from under his tree into his car and drove to the Pattersons’ early Christmas morning. He and Eloise had returned home after last night’s Christmas Eve service, slept briefly, then shared a quick breakfast of cold cereal before rejoining the carefully orchestrated festivities at his sort-of in-laws. They’d spent every Christmas with Catherine’s family since her death. This year, the slow pace and methodical unwrapping allowing everyone ample time to gush over gifts held less appeal than usual. Eloise had never known the joy of diving into a pile of presents until she found one for her and ripping the paper with abandon. Those were the Christmas mornings he remembered. After the holidays, he’d broach the subject of alternating where they spent Christmas with Sue and Pappy. He owed Eloise some fun. He’d debated whether or not to bring Penelope’s gifts. In the end, he put them in the car but decided not to take them inside the Patterson home. He didn’t need to antagonize Sue when he wanted her cooperation.
After two and a half hours of unwrapping gifts, the Patterson family took a breakfast break. This year’s gathering included Catherine’s brothers John and Robert as well as her sister Claire and an assortment of cousins a few years older and younger than Eloise. He ran out of things to talk about last night, but at least the kids included Eloise in their chatter.
As they sat to a breakfast buffet of casserole, fruit salad, and bread, the tree remained surrounded by several feet of presents. He checked his watch. In his estimation, they had another three hours of unwrapping to do. Eloise’s restlessness grew. Sue might not have noticed, but he did. Unlike at home, he couldn’t redirect her energy elsewhere. He hoped food would help, but she’d already complained that she was bored and wanted to play with her new toys.
His thoughts turned to Penelope. She would turn this process into some sort of a game for Eloise. He wondered if she’d opened the present he tucked under her tree yet. Not that it would change anything. He still wasn’t sure why he wanted her to have it so badly. As he ate a slice of cranberry nut bread heaping with indulgent real butter, he experienced an epiphany. At the museum, Eloise hadn’t once complained, not during those long minutes when Penelope flirted with that guy nor in the long bathroom line. Instead she kept busy with her notepad.
He pulled his daughter aside before they returned to the tree. “Eloise, do you have any paper in your backpack?”
“I have the book and pencils Miss Penny gave me.”
Perfect. “Then could you please do me a favor? Could you draw a picture of the Christmas tree? You could work on it between your turns to unwrap.”
She bounced with excitement. “I’ll do it! Maybe I can show it to Miss Penny later. She likes my pictures.”
He ruffled her hair. “So do I, sweetheart. So do I.”
Remarkably, she stayed content and busy through the next three hours, first drawing the tree, then the stockings by the fireplace, and a finally fairy Christmas tree. As the pile of presents grew lower, she worried out loud that she hadn’t opened her present from Miss Penny yet. Carson went out to the car to retrieve it, lying that it must have accidently slipped under a seat. The slim package Penelope gave him yesterday caught his eye.
Intrigued, he slipped his finger under the seam, but realized no one could see him. In one quick movement he unwrapped it, enjoying the sound of tearing paper. It was a CD in a slim case. The front cover featured a sloppy drawing of a skateboard and the words Your Misspent Youth in scrolling letters. He opened the case and scanned the playlist. The first fifteen tracks made him laugh. It was as if she’d waved her fairy wand and conjured up his high school tape collection. He hadn’t heard any of the last five songs, but he recognized a few names from his osteopathic patients who wore earbuds as he walked into the patient rooms. He set the CD on the passenger seat where she sat yesterday, wondering how she could bring so much joy in his life yet make him so miserable at the same time.
After the main meal of the day, served precisely at two, the family gathered for cookies, drinks, and carols around the tree. Pappy asked each of his grandkids in turn if Santa had brought them everything on their list. For the most part, they had. The Pattersons liked to spoil their grandchildren. All went well until he got to Eloise. She shook her head sadly, staring at the floor.
“No, Pappy. Santa did not. He just brought me toys. He forgot to bring Miss Penny to be my mommy.”
Sue spit eggnog all over the floor. The other adults gasped in disbelief.
Carson recovered the quickest. He’d half expected this to come up at some point. “Eloise, sweetie, Santa can’t wrap people.”
“But in one of my books he wraps up an elf. In other books he wraps up dogs and cats, so why can’t he wrap a mommy for me?”
He pulled Eloise onto his lap as tears began to form in her eyes. “I know you like Miss Penny a lot and I know she cares for you, too, but grownups have complicated relationships and rules. You have a wonderful mommy who loves you very much, even if she isn’t alive anymore.”
Eloise kicked her foot and Carson winced as her shoe made contact with his shin. “But I don’t want a dead mommy. I want a real mommy like the other kids at school. Why can’t I have Miss Penny?”
Carson wondered the same thing. He took his time answering, holding Eloise and letting her sob into his shirt. Catherine’s family shifted uncomfortably, the kids coming up with excuses to get another c
ookie or go to the bathroom. Sue’s gaze bore into him, projecting her simmering resentment that her daughter could be replaced, worst of all by someone she disliked. The burden of single parenting and juggling everyone else’s needs manifested itself as an acute pain in his heart. He was tired but his daughter needed him. It wasn’t fair that he was all she had.
He stroked her hair, knocking out one of her barrettes in the process. He might not have noticed, except Catherine’s sister Claire swept in to pick it up. Disorder of any sort did not belong in this house. The picture perfect Christmas decorations, the schedule of family activities that came out in January each year, the expectation that all would gleefully participate even in such nonsense as carol practice so everyone’s voices would harmoniously blend on this the most special of days.
His nostrils flared as his cynicism rose. He lifted his head, like a bull ready to charge, except instead of red, he saw red and green. He resisted the urge to scream at Catherine’s parents, calling out their role in her death. After all, the “mommy special” nip and tuck had been their Christmas present to her. This point never came up after her death. He and Catherine argued over the gift, but mostly the argument brought out the bigger problems they had, like his desire for more children and her desire to stay attractive for the betterment of her career, especially if she went into politics. Sure, they had make-up sex, but their argument ended without resolution, at least until her fatal car crash. The problem seemed so clear now. In the Patterson household, perfection ruled, but at a cost.
He envied Eloise and her emotional outburst. She cried. He offered comfort. But who was there for him? Who would ease his troubled mind, accepting him neurosis and all? He knew.
Chapter 9
Carson put on his hapless father face and shrugged as he caught Sue’s eye. “I think we’ll leave now. As beautiful as the house is and as delicious as the food has been, I think someone’s had too much Christmas.” He flicked his eyes toward Eloise, in case she harbored any doubt about who he meant. There was no need to address the elephant in the room. Sue would berate him later.