by Jenny Hale
“No,” she said, barely able to get the words out. “It’s a baby’s room.”
Chapter Eight
The light was coming in at a slant through the stark white, gauzy fabric of the nursery curtains that stretched from the top of the room to the bottom. They were tied back with long sashes of white satin, their tails dragging the floor. The wood floor was dark against the shaggy area rug that looked like a bright white cloud, floating in darkness. In the center of the room sat an enormous circular crib. Abbey almost didn’t notice the little green and white embroidered roses on the bedding, or the perfectly tied bows of the bumper pad because her eyes had moved to the vaulted ceiling and the glass mobile floating above the crib like stars in the night’s sky. The whole room looked like something from Heaven, all white and dreamlike. The only color was a small olive green and pearl white teddy bear that sat all alone in the center of the crib.
There was hardly a thing in the entire mansion, but this room was completely decorated, the white looking almost ghostly-stark all of a sudden as Abbey worried about the child for whom this room was meant. What was this room?
Quickly, she ushered Max out of it and shut the door. “Follow me,” she said, refocusing and making her way to the third bedroom where she had the most decorating done. She needed to stay on track if she wanted to finish.
This was her surprise bedroom for Nick, and she hoped he liked it. The groundsmen had left her a hammer and, with a few taps, she secured the picture hanger on the wall for the large waterfall photograph. She hung it between the posts of the bed, and stepped back to take a look at it. The thick, dark wood of the frame was the perfect accent to the smooth hour-glass shape of the bed posts. The posts looked as though they were reaching upward to showcase that gorgeous picture, the sheer canopy she’d pleated like curtains softening the space. She’d chosen to decorate the room in white before she’d seen the nursery, and now, looking at the room, it looked oddly similar. She hoped that wasn’t a bad thing. An antique chair sat in the corner, the green seat embroidered with flowers, the dark wood back and arms matching the bed. She fluffed a deliciously puffy throw pillow and cornered it in the bend of the chair. The colors of the chair looked so rich in the light of a floor lamp nearby. Abbey didn’t know why—maybe it was that photo that made her feel romantic, but she hung an extra sprig of mistletoe by a dark green ribbon from the canopy above the bed. For such a large room, it looked livable and warm—the kind of room she’d want to stay in. She cornered a few books on the table and took a look around.
Max played with his toys on the floor while Abbey did the final dust and room check. He’d asked several times to go down and see Nick, and she’d made him stay upstairs with her. So, when it was finally time to show Nick this room, she told Max to go find him.
“Okay, Mama!” he said, more lively than she’d seen him in a while.
Abbey hurried to put Max’s toys away as Max went to get Nick. He’d been pleased with the ballroom, but this was the first room she’d decorated that felt like it could fit who he was. It had soft lighting, billowy comforters and pillows, glass vases with sprigs of holly right now and, she imagined, daisies in the warm months. It felt like somewhere she’d want to live, and with that gorgeous photo above the bed, she was nearly sure it would be somewhere Nick would want to live as well. Could she convince him that he needed a home rather than just a house? Her confidence was soaring as she looked around.
“Keep your eyes closed,” she heard Max say, and her fingertips were tingling in anticipation. She couldn’t wait to show him.
Max led Nick into the room and Nick awkwardly bumped the doorframe. “Oh, Max,” she laughed nervously, “You didn’t have to really make Nick close his eyes.”
Nick was standing in the doorway, holding Max’s hand, his eyes closed, and his face set in that cautious expression. He looked vulnerable right then, which was such a contrast to his usual commanding presence. There was a softness to his face, a gentle look about him, and she imagined what it would be like to see him sleep. How peaceful he must look.
“Ready?” Max said. “Open your eyes!”
Abbey waited for his reaction; at the very least, she thought she’d get the look of polite approval that he’d shown in the ballroom downstairs, but she was hoping for a bigger response. In her mind, she’d nailed this room. Would he think so? She waited for him to say something about this gorgeous surprise she’d found in the closet. What did he think of her interpretation of its mood? The greens and whites of the photo were like a blast of color, and she knew it had to evoke something in him.
What she hadn’t planned for was the kind of emotion she saw on Nick’s face.
His jaw was clenched, his lips set in a straight line, his eyes like daggers on that photo. “Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice controlled and careful. His eyes were filled with a myriad of feelings—she could see them: anger, hurt, irritation, sadness. How could this photo cause all that? What had she done?
“I found it in the closet,” she answered, her voice small. “I was only trying to surprise you.”
“What’s the matter, Nick? Are you mad at my mommy?”
Without a word, Nick turned around and left them standing there.
Abbey’s mothering instincts kicked in immediately as she simultaneously tried to recover from his reaction. Max had asked Nick a question and he’d flat ignored it. She felt like she needed to do damage control. She didn’t want Max thinking that a response like that was okay or that he’d said anything wrong. Nick should have acknowledged his question. Max was a kid, for goodness’ sake! Max had taken to Nick today, and now she didn’t want him to get hurt.
“Something about that picture has upset Nick so much that he can’t even speak,” she explained to Max. “Normally, he would’ve answered your question, I’m sure, but for some reason the photo made him sad. Can you remember a time when you felt really sad about anything?”
“I’ve never been that sad,” he said.
“Well, we all get sad from time to time, and sometimes, things can make us very sad. I’m glad you haven’t had anything make you feel that way.” Abbey picked up her bag. “We should probably go. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow, and, from the looks of you, so do you! You’re much better, so back to school tomorrow.”
* * *
Abbey sat on the sofa in her apartment, still thinking about Nick’s reaction to the photo she’d put up. Scenarios ran wild in her mind. She worried because she hadn’t talked to him about it and she wanted to make sure he was okay. The thing about Abbey was that she was a talker, and when something was bothering her, she wanted to talk even more. She couldn’t just sit quietly. It was eight thirty at night, a little late to call Nick.
She texted him: Sorry to bother you. Are you awake? I want to talk.
A response came through to her phone: Yes. I’m awake. Shall I give you a call?
Abbey didn’t want to talk on the phone. She wanted to read his expressions, see his gestures, his mannerisms.
She texted back: I’d like to come over. Would that be possible? Her mother had heard the whole story earlier and Abbey was nearly sure she’d pop over to sit at the house while Max slept so she could see Nick.
Silence…
She texted again: I know it’s late.
He finally responded: I’ll wait at the door. Be careful driving.
Abbey texted her mother next to see if she would stay with Max, and she came over immediately, bless her. Once her mother was comfortable on the sofa in her apartment with her boot propped up on a cushion to keep her ankle from swelling, and after a ton of hugs and thank-yous, Abbey got in her car and headed to Nick’s. As she shivered in the cold of late evening, her little Toyota engine working overtime to run in this icy weather, she mentally braced herself for his reprimand, but every time she thought it through, she knew that she hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d told her to use whatever she wanted, that the house was hers. How was she supposed to know that t
he picture was some awful memory of his? His reaction had deflated her, made her feel like she’d done something wrong when she hadn’t. She needed to see him. She didn’t want to wait for the next day. She’d never sleep, feeling the way she was feeling.
She glanced at the clock in her car. It was nearly nine o’clock now. Whose decorator would come to his house at such a ridiculous hour, and ask questions about his personal life? She turned between the large gates and headed down the drive. It’s only a quick visit, she tried to convince herself. The truth was, she wanted to know, and if she didn’t see him, she’d have to wait until a better time. Would there be a better time?
She parked the car and Nick already had the door open. His hair was gorgeously messy, his feet bare, which surprised her. Had she caught him just before bed? “Hi,” she said as she walked up the steps.
He watched her carefully, almost as if he were worried she’d slip on the ice. When they were face to face, he allowed the tiniest of smiles to emerge. “Are those your pajamas?” he asked.
She looked down at her red and white flannel pajama bottoms, her Chuck Taylors seeming out of place against them, and nodded. She’d been so worried about his reaction to that room that she hadn’t bothered to look at herself in the mirror. She walked in and he shut the door. Only then did she finally feel warmth. She took off her shoes and set them by the door. Then she wadded her coat and set it on top of them.
“Is that Mickey Mouse on your T-shirt?” he asked with a larger smile.
“It’s vintage,” she said, offering a grin in return.
“I see.” He led her to the ballroom where a fire was already going. He offered for her to take a seat on the sofa.
“Is everything all right?” he asked.
“No.” He’d knocked her confidence today. He’d made her feel like she’d ruined everything. She’d been so sure of herself, and the first bedroom she’d shown him had been all wrong. She took a deep breath and said, “I wanted to apologize for the picture in that room upstairs. I just found it in a closet.” She bit her lip, thinking. She didn’t know what to say. “I just wanted…” She struggled for the right words. “I just wanted to be sure that I hadn’t overstepped any bounds. I was under the impression that I could use anything I found in the house.”
“You’ve done nothing wrong. It just took me by surprise. I never go in that room anyway, so you can leave it up if you’d like. It doesn’t matter.”
Again, a wave of disappointment washed over her as she saw his indifference to all the hard work she’d put into that room.
He was quiet, not offering anything more.
She got up and walked to the window, nervous energy zinging through her.
To her surprise, he followed, pacing up beside her. “I have questions,” she said, turning toward him. As she did, she realized they were standing under the mistletoe together. It felt ridiculous at that moment. “Tell me,” she said. “Why do you have a baby’s room all decorated and you didn’t bother to tell me? Why were you so upset about that picture? I have to know these things to get it right. I want to do a good job for you.”
His seriousness was different this time. There was a slight uncertainty to his face, and pain—she could see it. But lurking underneath it, it looked like he wanted to tell her. Out of nowhere, he started talking, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. “The baby’s room was Sarah’s idea of encouragement. She thought I’d fall in love with it and want a baby like she did. But I don’t. And you’re right: this house is meant for a family. So I left it, not knowing how long I’d stay here.”
He wasn’t planning on staying in this house? His words hit her like bricks, but the magic of where they were standing, the mistletoe hanging above her—for some reason it all gave her a little hope that everything would be okay. She’d do a wonderful job, so good he’d love it and want to live here forever.
“But you are still here,” she said.
“For now.”
As she digested this, she realized that she’d created this magical atmosphere—the trees, the stockings, the greenery. It had all come from her mind, and none of it was real. After Christmas, it would all be gone. What about him? Was he planning to be gone as well?
“What about the picture? It’s a gorgeous picture. It’s a shame it was hidden in the closet.”
Abbey thought about the pies Nick had sent over, how he’d followed her lead and had dinner on the sofa even though it was clear how uncomfortable it was for him, how he’d looked when he was running with Max. He hadn’t had to do any of those things, but he’d reached out, and for that, she was grateful. Now she wanted to reach out to him. He stood silently, looking at her, so she continued. “It looked like that picture really upset you. You’ve been very kind to me and Max, and I just want to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.”
“You didn’t seem fine. Look, I know it’s none of my business, but your reaction to my choices in decorating is. I put something in your house that made you upset, and I feel terrible about that. If you don’t want to tell me, then don’t. You seem like a very kind person, and I just worried about you. That’s all.”
After she said that, his face changed. There was an interest in his eyes—she’d seen it before, but this time, the intensity behind it was startling. Was she the first person to say she worried about him? “I was at the waterfall depicted in the photograph the day my dad died.”
“Oh.” She covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry.” Abbey thought about how Nick didn’t easily forget things, and she wondered if the feelings for the loss of his father were as fresh as his memory of it. “Why did you preserve that memory with an enormous photo, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“It was just after my wedding. Sarah had insisted that we go on our honeymoon. Dad had barely made it through the wedding—he was really sick, but he’d come anyway. His cancer had spread; he was so thin…”
How hard it must have been to celebrate the beginning of his life with his new wife while being terribly worried about his father. Abbey led Nick back to the sofas, her eyes on him, still listening. They both sat down, and he continued.
“We had a two-week stay in the Turks and Caicos. I wanted to postpone it, but Sarah had talked me into going. She said it would be good for me to get my mind off my father’s battle. We spent Tuesday of the second week at that waterfall, just the two of us enjoying ourselves completely. Meanwhile, here in Richmond, my father was dying. I never got to say goodbye. I will always regret it. It makes my day at that waterfall feel completely selfish. I should’ve been with him.”
“There was no way to know, Nick.”
“What upsets me most still is that I allowed Sarah to sway me. I knew in my gut that I wanted to stay with him, and I permitted her to change my mind.”
“I’ll take it down as soon as I get here tomorrow. Or I can take it down right now…”
“It was nothing but a memento that we picked up while we were there. At the time, it reminded us of somewhere wonderful. You can leave it up. Like I said, I won’t see it anyway.”
“But don’t you want your home to be a sanctuary where you can relax and unwind? Knowing that photo was on the wall in my home, I’d want to take it down.”
“I relax and unwind when I’m sleeping. And I don’t sleep in that room. Having you decorate is merely an exercise to appease my grandmother and keep my family quiet. The last thing I need is everyone giving me flak for having an empty house. For them, it would mean that I wasn’t settled or happy, neither of which should they be worried about.”
“They probably just care about you, that’s all.”
“My home is the very least of my worries. Now, I’ve kept you long enough,” he said gently. “I apologize for upsetting you. I’ll let you get home to Max and to bed.”
He stood up. She didn’t want to but she didn’t want to keep him up all night either. She followed him out. Her pile of things was still at the door with Richard most likely off f
or the night. She picked up her coat and put it on. As she slipped on her shoes, she thought about how Nick had opened up to her tonight. He’d told her a very personal story about his father. She looked up at him, and in that moment of quiet, that big house all around them, it felt intimate.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said as he opened the door. A gust of frigid air blew in.
She smiled at him.
“I enjoyed our talk.”
Even though she’d driven all the way out there for only that short amount of time, she was glad she had. “Me too,” she said, wishing she could stay but knowing that she shouldn’t. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes.” He smiled then, a big, affectionate smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She headed to her car, the excitement of tomorrow already zinging through her.
Chapter Nine
“How’s life treating you?” Gramps said as Abbey took a seat next to him at the kitchen table.
“Okay,” she answered, not sure what he wanted to hear.
“Glad you could stop by.”
“I had a free hour before I have to take Caroline Sinclair to the doctor to run some tests.”
“How is she doing?”
“I’m not sure. She’s complaining about shortness of breath. It could be a lot of things. I’m hoping it isn’t an arrhythmia.”
Gramps nodded, his head wobbling involuntarily. Señor Freckles darted across the room, rubbed up against his leg, and, as he put his hand down to pet the cat, he ran away before he could touch him. Gramps’s movements were slower these days.
“Crazy cat,” she noted.
“He’s all right.”
“Why do you keep him around? He’s the worst pet ever.”