by Irene Hannon
Nicole hesitated, and he held his breath. He knew she was debating the torture of spending time with him against the desire to do something nice for Clare.
“Okay, I guess,” she said slowly. Then she sighed and went back to stacking plates in the dishwasher. “Maybe that will help me make up for upsetting her today.”
Bingo. That was the opening he’d been waiting for.
“I heard her drop the ornament. What happened?” Adam kept his voice casual and continued scrubbing a pot.
Nicole paused and stuck her hands in her pockets, her face troubled. “I shouldn’t have brought up David. I think she misses him a lot.”
“Who’s David?”
“Her son. He died in the car crash with her husband.”
Adam’s hands stilled, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He’d had no idea! When Seth Mitchell had mentioned that she was a widow, the man had made no reference to a double tragedy that had taken both her husband and son. Now he understood the source of the ever-present pain in Clare’s eyes.
“I hope she’s not mad at me.”
Nicole’s comment brought him back to the present, and he turned to his daughter. “She knows you didn’t mean to make her feel bad. Sometimes it’s just hard to be reminded of people you love when they’re gone. It takes a long time to stop missing them.”
Nicole’s face grew sad. “Maybe you never do.”
He knew she was thinking of her mother. “Maybe not,” he conceded. “But it does get easier in time.”
Her shoulders hunched and she dropped her head. “Yeah. I guess. But you don’t miss Mom like I do.”
Adam dried his hands on a dish towel and reached out tentatively to lay a hand on her stiff shoulder. He was afraid she’d pull away, but she didn’t. “Your mom and I had some good times, Nicole,” he said gently. “I like to remember those. And I miss them. But I wasn’t the best husband. I was too caught up in my work. And I’ve never been very good at letting people know what’s in my heart. I have a lot of regrets about the way things turned out between your mom and me. But at least one good thing came from our marriage. You.”
Nicole looked up at him, and he saw a glimmer of un-shed tears in her eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I just get in your way,” she said in a choked voice. “Like you’d rather talk to sick people than to me.”
His gut clenched, and his instinct was to reach out and pull her close. But he was afraid she’d back off. So he restrained the impulse. “That’s not true. It’s just easier to talk to them sometimes because I can usually help them solve their problems. But I’ve never been very good at solving problems for the people I love. I can’t write a prescription for those.”
She studied his face. “You don’t always have to fix everything. Sometimes just listening is enough.”
He tried to swallow past the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. “I’ll remember that.”
They looked at each other for a moment, then Nicole backed up a step. Adam let his hand drop to his side. “Well, I gotta go finish my reading.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Are we done?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
As he watched her leave, he realized that this was the longest civil conversation he’d had with his daughter since she’d come to live with him. And he also realized his response to her last question hadn’t been quite accurate.
Because he had a feeling they weren’t done. They were just beginning.
And his heart felt lighter than it had in a long time.
Chapter Six
“Okay, she’s almost done in the kitchen. Should I bring it out now?”
At the sound of the excited, low-pitched voice behind him, Adam turned from the crackling fire and nodded at Nicole. “I think it’s time.”
As his daughter scampered away, he thought back to their outing to the mall in Asheville. Though they’d spent much of the time in silence, and their conversation had been mostly strained, there had been a few occasions when they’d seemed to connect. Those fleeting moments had given him hope that their relationship might be turning a corner. As far as he was concerned, that was the best present he could have received this holiday season. And it was thanks to Clare.
Adam leaned back in his chair and slowly looked around the living room. Spruce garlands, held in place with festive plaid bows, were draped on the mantel, around the doorways and on the stair rail in the foyer. Strategically placed white twinkle lights added magic to the setting. Sparkly snowflakes of all sizes and a collection of pine cones were displayed on the mantle, interspersed with glowing candles of varying heights. A feeling of warmth and peace enveloped the living room. And he had Clare to thank for that, too.
As well as for the early holiday meal they’d just shared. Roast lamb, new potatoes and a spinach soufflé that melted in their mouths. Not to mention the fabulous chocolate mousse. And all of it had been homemade. Tonight’s hearty, delectable fare had been a far cry from the sparse, sometimes unidentifiable nouvelle cuisine and imported chocolates, fine wines and designer pastries that had been staples of the catered holiday dinners Elaine had insisted on during most of their marriage. Those meals had been stiff and formal. Tonight’s had been homey and relaxing.
It had also been unlike anything he’d known as a child. Their Christmases had always been rather sober; the meals quiet affairs served by a succession of equally dour housekeepers. Tonight had reminded him of what he’d missed…and what he still yearned for.
Nicole reappeared then, diverting his thoughts. As she tucked a beribboned package under the tree, Clare appeared in the doorway carrying two presents of her own.
“Well, it looks like we all had the same idea,” she said with a smile as she made her way to the tree and placed her gifts beneath the scented boughs.
It hadn’t occurred to Adam that Clare would have gifts for them, as well, and he was doubly grateful for Nicole’s suggestion. His daughter gave him a smug I-told-you-so look when he glanced at her, and he responded with a grin and a thumbs-up signal.
“Open ours first, Clare,” Nicole instructed.
Clare flushed and sat cross-legged on the floor, then reached for the foil-wrapped box. “I didn’t expect this.”
“We wanted to do it. Didn’t we, Dad?” Nicole prodded.
“Absolutely.”
Clare tore the wrappings away, then lifted the blue, pearl-beaded cashmere sweater from the tissue. Her eyes widened, and she looked first to Adam, then to Nicole. “This is the one we saw in Asheville.”
“Nicole said you admired it.”
“Yes, I did, but…it’s way too generous.”
“So do you like it?” Nicole chimed in excitedly.
“I love it. Thank you.” She ran her hands gently over the whisper-soft wool, then looked at them curiously. “Did you go together to get this?”
“Of course. Sending me to the women’s clothing department with only a description would have been a recipe for disaster,” Adam said with a chuckle.
“I had to show him the way,” Nicole chimed in. “He almost got lost trying to find the right department, and the sweater was in a different place than when we looked at it. He would never have found it by himself.”
“Well, it’s a good thing you went, then.”
“It was a very successful outing,” Adam said. Clare saw the deeper meaning in his eyes and smiled in response.
“So can I open my present now?” Nicole asked excitedly.
“Of course. But I’m afraid mine aren’t as grand as the one you gave me,” Clare said as she handed Nicole a package.
The young girl quickly tore open the wrappings, then lifted out a knitted angora cap that matched her new green sweater.
“Ooh, this is awesome!” She jumped to her feet and tugged it on, then examined her reflection in the mirror over the mantel.
“I’m so glad it fits!” Clare said in relief.” The pattern was a little vague on sizes, and I couldn’t exactly ask you to try it on without ruining the surprise.”
“Did you make this?” Nicole asked in awe.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Way cool!” The girl admired her reflection for a moment longer, than turned to Adam. “Aren’t you going to open yours?”
Clare reached for the remaining box and silently handed it to Adam. He pried the tape off and carefully eased the box out of the wrapping, then lifted the lid. Nestled in the folds of the tissue was a gray-and-black knitted tweed muffler of fine wool.
“You made this, too?” At her nod, he looked down again and fingered the subtle herringbone pattern. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given him such a thoughtful gift, one that clearly represented a significant investment of time. His throat tightened, and he took a steadying breath. “It’s wonderful. Thank you, Clare.”
A warm flush suffused her face. “You’re welcome.”
He examined the scarf more closely, then shook his head. “This looks complicated. So does Nicole’s. When in the world did you find time to make them?”
She shrugged. Sometimes, when the nights seemed especially long, occupying her fingers—and her mind—helped pass the dark hours and kept unhappy thoughts at bay. “Here and there,” she said lightly.
“I’m going to wear mine to Uncle Jack’s,” Nicole declared.
“What time are you leaving tomorrow?” Clare asked as she began to gather up the remnants of their early Christmas exchange.
“Right after breakfast. We should get to Charlotte by noon if all goes well. What time will your sister arrive?”
Clare was looking forward to A.J.’s visit more than she could say. She was just sorry that Morgan had been unable to get away from work long enough to make a trip south more practical. “Sometime tomorrow. It depends on how early she can leave. I wish she could stay longer, but at least we’ll have three days.”
“She’s in St. Louis, right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a long drive for just a three-day visit.”
“She won’t mind,” Clare said with a chuckle. “She likes to travel. I think Adventure is her middle name.”
Adam grinned. “Well, I’m glad you’ll have some company while we’re gone. But I’ll leave the phone number in the kitchen, just in case you need to reach me. Though you’ll probably be glad to have us out of your hair for a few days.”
His comment was made in jest, but in fact, Clare knew she would miss the Wrights.
Both of them.
She kept that thought to herself, however, and responded instead with just a smile. Because that seemed a whole lot safer than giving voice to what was in her heart.
“Hey, bro, are you gonna share some of the couch or not?”
From his prone position, Adam opened one eye and looked up at his younger brother. “Not.”
“Then I might just have to sit on top of you.”
Adam groaned. “Have some mercy. I can’t move after that enormous meal. How do you stay in such good shape, eating like that all the time?”
“I don’t eat like that all the time. Usually we just nuke a microwave dinner.”
“Jack!” His wife poked his arm playfully as she came up behind him.
He gave her a saucy grin and looped his arms around her waist. “Hey, I’m not complaining. I didn’t marry you to cook. You excel at…other things.”
Theresa’s face turned bright red. “You are incorrigible.”
“But you wouldn’t have me any other way, would you?” he said cajolingly as he kissed her cheek.
She squirmed out of his embrace and turned to Adam. “I want you to know that we do not have microwave food every night. With two kids…” she paused and gave her husband a wry look, “…make that three… I try to prepare healthy, homemade meals most of the time.”
Adam chuckled. “Don’t worry, Theresa. I only believe half of what Jack says. If that much.”
Jack planted his fists on his hips and feigned a hurt look. “I don’t know if I can take all this abuse. First my wife, now my brother. And on Christmas, no less.”
“Get out the violins,” Adam said wryly.
“Well, you do have some redeeming qualities,” Theresa conceded. “You always remember to take the trash out, and you did stay up until two in the morning last night putting together Bobby’s new bike.”
Jack grinned and draped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “That’s not a bad start on an apology. But we’ll work on a better one later.” He winked playfully.
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but her smile was affectionate. “Like I said…incorrigible.”
“So how about a turkey sandwich?” Jack said innocently.
Theresa stared at him incredulously. “We just finished the dishes!”
“I hear some turkey calling my name.”
“It takes one to know one,” she replied pertly.
“Ooh, low blow!” Jack said with a chuckle. “Never marry a woman who talks back, Adam.”
Adam smiled. “You’re lucky Theresa puts up with you.”
“Isn’t he, though?” Theresa concurred with a grin.
Jack reached for her hand and pulled her close. “Yeah, I am,” he said, his eyes suddenly serious. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Wright.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.
The spell was broken a moment later when a loud crash sounded from the far reaches of the house. Theresa sighed and extricated herself from her husband’s embrace. “Sounds like a new toy has bitten the dust already. I’ll take care of it. You two need some guy-time to catch up”
Adam watched her leave, envying the easy give-and-take between husband and wife. It was something he’d yearned for, but had never found with Elaine.
“What’s with the look?” Jack asked as he sank into an overstuffed chair beside the couch.
Adam turned toward him and shrugged. “You seem to have it all.”
Jack laughed. “Yeah. Mortgages and sibling fights and a never-ending list of chores. Plus a boss who drives me nuts.”
“Not to mention a wife who loves you completely and makes all those everyday problems seem incidental.”
Jack cocked his head and eyed Adam speculatively. “Hey! Are you coveting Theresa?” he teased.
Adam smiled, but his voice was weary. “Maybe. Are any of her sisters still single? And good with kids?”
Jack’s face grew more serious. “Still having trouble with Nicole, huh?”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Teenagers are tough. I’m not looking forward to that stage, either.”
“At least you’ve got Theresa to help. With that and other things. I have to admit I am a little envious, Jack.” He sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was quiet. “To be honest, I…I never had anything with Elaine that came close to what you have with Theresa.”
“Elaine was…different,” Jack said carefully.
“What do you mean?”
Leaning back, Jack stretched his legs out in front of him and jammed his hands into his pockets. “She wasn’t the warmest person I ever met,” he said slowly. “I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but honestly, Adam, I never could figure out what you saw in her.”
In retrospect, Adam had to admit, he couldn’t, either.
“She was very beautiful,” Adam offered.
“True. But that’s not enough to keep a relationship going for the long-term.”
“Jack? Can you come in here for a minute?”
Theresa’s voice interrupted them, and Jack gave Adam an apologetic look. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Adam watched as Jack exited the room, then sat up and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands as he gazed at the flickering flames in the fireplace. Jack was right about Elaine’s beauty, of course. But the physical chemistry that had initially drawn him and Elaine together had been powerful. Powerful enough to sustain their marriage long after it should have ended. And powerful enough to undermine his good judgment at first.
&
nbsp; He thought back to their courtship. Things had moved quickly. Too quickly, he acknowledged. Always an introvert, Adam had been so flattered that someone like Elaine, so vibrant and beautiful, would take an interest in him, that he’d proposed far too soon. He knew now that the proposal had been prompted by her complaint that the demands of his residency hadn’t given them enough time to spend together. He hadn’t wanted to lose her, and he’d figured that a proposal would demonstrate his serious intent. Once they were engaged, she’d been so caught up in the flurry of wedding plans that his preoccupation with his work had no longer been an issue. Still, her displeasure should have warned him of stormy seas ahead. Because doctors were often as busy, if not more so, than residents. As his practice had grown, Elaine had come to hate the demands of his job, which often pulled him away from home at odd hours or made him miss social events. Soon she spent more and more time shopping and socializing with friends to compensate for his lack of attention and had run up bills that began to alarm Adam. By the end of their marriage, they’d been deeply in debt. It had taken him years to regain financial stability.
As their marriage had deteriorated, Adam had begun to wonder what Elaine had seen in him. Gradually he’d come to believe she had been more attracted to the notion of being married to a doctor than of being married to him. It gave her a certain prestige and cachet with her friends. That had been a hard pill to swallow. And it had made him even more withdrawn.
Adam leaned back and wearily closed his eyes. He knew there were a lot of reasons for the breakup of their marriage. Basic incompatibility, for one. They’d had different interests and tastes and priorities—which would have surfaced if they’d taken more time to get to know each other before rushing into marriage. Elaine’s insistence that they remain in St. Louis after Adam’s residency, despite his intention to return to North Carolina, had also led to resentment on both sides.
He knew they both shared the blame for the disintegration of their marriage. But he was painfully aware of his part in it. Especially his inability to allow people to get close to him. That had eventually alienated Elaine. It continued to hinder his ability to establish a rapport with his daughter. And it made him afraid to even consider a future romantic relationship. He knew that unless he found a way to unlock his heart, he was destined to remain alone—and lonely—for the rest of his life. Which was a really depressing thought for Christmas Day.