Choosing Christmas (A Piper Anderson Novella) (Piper Anderson Series)

by Danielle Stewart

  Chris had been taking the holiday planning slowly. He didn’t want to spook Sydney out of participating. Today was a big one, going to the tree farm and cutting down their perfect Christmas tree, just as he had done as a child. There would be hot cocoa and holiday music playing. They’d walk the narrow paths between the beautiful evergreens until they found just the right one.

  It would be one more thing to carry them closer to the Christmases he had been missing all these years. A few days earlier they had all gone ice skating, which, much to his surprise, took a good amount of skill. It was not as easy as he thought. He was still sore from falling so many times. They’d gone together to see A Christmas Carol at the local theater. And as proof of Sydney’s lightening up, she even cracked a joke. “You’ll feel right at home in this theater,” she teased, “the Rialto Theater was also one of Al Capone's favorite haunts.” He thought it was almost adorable that she thought his lifestyle had in anyway been remotely as volatile as Al Capone’s. Today’s racketeering tended to be much more tedious and less glamorous.

  “I’ll go with you to get the tree, but I’m not decorating it,” she said assertively, but they all knew she’d cave on that point, too. As they drove toward the tree farm, she may have even hummed a few bars of Jingle Bells.

  The hunt for the tree was exactly what Chris had hoped for. They parked in the large dirt field and they were met by a girl dressed like an elf, cups of cocoa for all of them. She handed Chris a saw to cut down whichever tree they liked best. The problem was they couldn’t seem to agree on what kind, how big, or whether or not a big gaping hole gave the tree character or made it look sickly.

    

  When everyone’s noses were glowing red with cold and their legs growing tired, Sydney decided to take matters into her own hands. “Let’s split up,” she laughed, grabbing Little Chris’s mittened hand and making her way down a clearing, eyeing a tree she thought might be perfect. She pointed to it and instantly the boy lit with agreement. They started in a run, only to hit what felt like a brick wall. A man they hadn’t seen stepped out in front of them suddenly. Sydney was halfway through a breathy apology before she realized who it was.

  “Caleb,” she shouted, pulling Little Chris tighter to her. She couldn’t imagine how he had tracked her down. She knew he was persistent, and apparently he applied that to stalking.

  “Sydney, I just want to talk to you for a minute. I’m in some serious trouble here, and I need you to tell them this was all a misunderstanding. I could go to jail, like real jail for a long time.”

  “Why aren’t you in jail now?” she questioned angrily.

  “My dad mortgaged his house to get me out on bail. I knew if I could just talk to you, I could get you to reconsider. This isn’t me just losing my job, this is serious.”

  She needed to get out of his reach so she and Little Chris could turn and run. But his long arms grabbed at her elbow and pulled her back toward him.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Caleb pleaded, his eyes glassing over with emotion. “I’m sorry for what I did, but, please . . . you have to help me.”

  She pried Little Chris’s arms from around her waist with her free hand. “Go find your dad,” she said, attempting to sound calm.

  “No,” Caleb shouted, grabbing the hood of the boys coat as he took his first step in the other direction.

  “Get your hands off him,” Sydney screamed, using her free hand to try to swat at him. “Chris! Help, Chris,” she yelled, praying he’d find them quickly and Caleb would run.

  He didn’t have a chance to run. Chris’s arm was around his neck in a headlock before Sydney even saw him approach. Caleb released her and Little Chris, and they both went clattering to the ground.

  Chris flung Caleb down like a rag doll, and straddled the stunned man. He threw three powerful punches square against Caleb’s face. He eyed the gleaming blade of the hack saw he’d dropped before tackling Caleb and lunged for it as a cloud of fury seemed to wash over him. Chris held the jagged toothed saw up to Caleb’s neck as he squirmed below it, eyes wide with terror.

  “I let you live once, but my tolerance for anyone touching my kid is zero.”

  “Chris,” Sydney shouted, using her hand to cover the little boy’s eyes. “Just let him go, we’ll call the police.”

  Chris didn’t flinch. He didn’t turn to look at her or acknowledge her words in any way. He only firmed his grip on the handle of the saw, his knuckles going white. Sean ran up to the scene and grabbed Sydney and Little Chris from behind, nearly sending Sydney jumping out of her skin. “Stop him, Sean, stop him!”

  Sean grabbed his brother and hooked him under the arm, pulling him backward. Chris had thirty pounds on Sean and when he was on his feet, he shook his brother off like an annoying fly. Sean put his body between Chris and Caleb who was now crawling away, picking up speed, and pulling himself to his feet.

  Chris shoved Sean, sending him stumbling a few steps. He was furious. Mad at his brother for intervening, mad at Caleb for touching people he loved, and angry with himself for his lack of self-control in the face of danger.

  He dropped the saw to the ground and it made a hollow thump in the snow. His son ran to him, crumpling in his arms with sobs. Chris squeezed him tight to his body.

  Sean hung his head and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll take Little Chris to the car, you guys can talk.”

  “No,” Sydney cut in. “We don’t have anything to discuss. I’ll take the bus home.” She turned on her heels and started stomping through the snowy trees.

  “Go with her, Sean, make sure she gets home okay.”

  “I’ll stay with Little Chris, you go after her. Try to make her understand.”

  “No,” he murmured. “I had my shot. Just make sure she gets home safe. That’s all I care about right now. Don’t hassle her on my account.”

    

  Sean chased after Sydney just as his brother had instructed him. “Sydney, please hang on a second.” When it was clear Sean wasn’t going away she stopped and turned toward him.

  “If you’re going to stand here and try to explain to me how justified he was in almost cutting Caleb’s head off, save your breath.”

  “I’m not here to do that. I’m just going to ride the bus with you. Make sure you get in okay.”

  She hesitated. She had prepared herself for hearing a long list of why it had been necessary to pummel Caleb, not just shove him away and tell him to leave, which Sydney knew would have been enough. When Sean made no attempt at that she didn’t know what to say. She could feel warm tears forming at the corners of her eyes. They were coming from her core, a mixture of fear, sadness, and adrenaline. Her life had, for years, been screwed up; why should she expect anything to change?

  Sean and Sydney sat in silence for most of the bus ride home. As the bus neared her stop she felt the need to explain, maybe just wanting to convince herself.

  “I never leave when I should,” she began, using her gloved hands to whisk the tears away from her eyes before they could stream down her cheek. “I stay until my bank account is mysteriously drained. I stay until there’s a knife to my throat. I stay when my dad is in the hospital and I’m fighting with him over my current deadbeat boyfriend. The sirens are going off, the signals are clear and I hang on. I can’t do that anymore, because every time I do I leave a little piece of myself behind, and there’s almost nothing left of me, I barely recognize myself.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand. We all have our addictions, our habits. The reason I’m not sitting here trying to convince you to come back and forgive my brother is because he asked me not to. He knows he screwed up, and he believes you deserve better than a screw up.”

  “And what do you think?” she asked, running her hands through her hair and pulling it into a bun.

  “I don’t think my brother’s the screw up; I think we are. Every single time I’ve blown it with him, he forgives me. I had a lot of t
ime to think while I was in rehab and I figured something out. Everything Chris has ever done that might be considered questionable or crossing the line was never for himself. Just like today—he tried to protect the people around him, the people he cares about, and sometimes that can take him to a dark place. I’ve seen him do a lot of things, but I’ve never seen him be selfish. All I know is I wouldn’t be alive without him, I wouldn’t be trying to get better.”

  “I’m not going to stare at another mistake and walk right into it. Maybe Chris is a great brother, an honorable man, but it doesn’t mean he’s right for me.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Sean agreed, nodding slightly. “I won’t sell you on it, only you know what’s right for yourself. But I’m like one of the guys you used to date—the deadbeat, the bully—and Chris is the one trying to get me to turn my life around. He’s trying to make sure there are fewer guys like me out there for girls like you.”

  “He might be too late, I’ve already met most of them.”

  Chapter Eight

   3 Days Until Christmas 

  Sydney ignored the Christmas carolers, the delivery man, and the Jehovah’s Witness who knocked on her door, but for some reason she couldn’t easily disregard the small, helpless-sounding tap on her door. She peeked through the glass on the door and saw only the top of a little boy’s head.

  “Little Chris, what are you doing here? How did you get here?” She pulled him in the house and looked him over. His cold cheeks were bright red, his feet soaked through. She sat him down on the couch and pulled off his wet shoes and socks, tossing them to the side. She pulled the fleece blanket she’d been curled up in most of the day from the edge of the couch and wrapped him in it. “What’s going on?” she asked as she walked to the kitchen to warm some milk for cocoa.

  “I walked here,” he said with a shiver that made his voice tremble.

  “You what?” she exclaimed. “It must have taken you almost two hours to get here. What were you thinking?”

  “Everyone hates me here. I want to go back home.” His face scrunched up as he fought off his tears.

  “No one hates you, buddy. I know this move hasn’t been easy, but this is where you belong.” She wrapped her arm around him, tucking him into her side as she joined him on the couch.

  He took the edges of the blanket to wipe his eyes and continued. “All the kids at school make fun of me. I thought Christmas break would be different, but when I was walking to the sledding hill they all jumped out and started calling me names and throwing snowballs at me. I just wanted to walk somewhere they wouldn’t follow.”

  “I’m so sorry that happened, but it isn’t safe to walk all that way by yourself. Plus,” she didn’t want to scold him too much, “you could have turned into a Popsicle.”

  He giggled a little and she was relieved to see him smile. “Your dad must be worried sick about you. I’ll get my phone and tell him you’re here.”

  As she pulled up his number on her cell phone, she sucked in a deep breath. She didn’t want to hear his voice, but she knew the responsible thing to do was call.

  “Sydney?” Chris sounded shocked to see her number on his phone. “I’m kind of in the middle of something. Can I call you back soon?”

  “I imagine you are in the middle of trying to find your son?”

  “Yes, how—”

  “He’s here. He walked here. His feet are soaked through and he’s . . .” she looked over at him and shook her head, “he’s now asleep on my couch.”

  “Thank God! I’ve been worried sick, driving all over town looking for him. I thought maybe something happened. Why would he walk all the way to your house?”

  “He’s been having a hard time, being picked on a lot. I think he was just trying to get away from some kids that were giving him trouble. He needs someone to talk to about this, and he needs to understand it isn’t safe to walk all that way alone.”

  “I know, I dropped the ball. He mentioned something to me the other day and I wasn’t paying attention.” Chris cleared his throat. “He trusts you. You make him feel better. It’s been tough to explain to him why you left yesterday.”

  “And how have you explained it?” she asked, wanting to know how she was being portrayed in all this.

  “I make it a point to try to be as honest as possible with him. He knows we moved because I was in trouble and we got very lucky to get a new start, like a do-over in a video game. He knows what I did at the Christmas tree place was unacceptable and it hurt your feelings.”

  “Well I hope he understands and you’re able to help him with this bully issue he’s having.”

  “I’ll be right over to pick him up. When I get there can we talk for a few minutes?”

  “I don’t think so, Chris. I’ve had a lot of time to think about this, and I can’t let myself get into yet another relationship that I already see will have problems. It’s irresponsible of me. I can’t afford to be rash and shortsighted anymore. There’s no need to come get him. I’ll drop him off when he wakes up.” This was the only way she could be in control of how much time she’d have to spend with Chris.

  “It’s not who you are that is stopping you Syd, it’s all the things you think you aren’t. You keep forgetting you’re intelligent and kind. You keep leaving out that you’re sweet and funny. You aren’t a flawed person with a terrible barometer of who people are, so stop standing behind that.”

  “I’m glad you have me all figured out. I’ll go ahead and consider myself fixed now that you’ve shed such light on my psyche.”

  “That wasn’t what I was trying to do. I’m not a jackass, Syd. A man like you’re talking about doesn’t make the choices I have.” She heard him sigh in frustration. “This isn’t really going anywhere, so I hope things work out for you. Just call me when Little Chris wakes up.” The line disconnected and Sydney felt a piece of her heart tear away.

  After an hour of sleeping the boy startled awake, clearly trying to remember where he was. Sydney was quickly at his side. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, touching his shoulder as he sat up.

  “I want my dad,” he murmured, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, then quickly starting to cry.

  “I’m going to take you home, don’t worry.”

  “I just want my dad now.” He stomped his foot a little and lay back down, burying his face in the blanket. “

  “Okay, okay, I’ll call him.” Sydney was not equipped for this. She was officially out of her depth.

  As the phone rang she paced around her kitchen. “Are you on your way, Syd?”

  “No, he’s having a problem. I don’t know what to do for him. He is crying and says he just wants you. He’s upset.”

  “I’ll be right there.” The phone went silent and Sydney looked at the clock. It would take Chris fifteen minutes to get to her house, so what could she do to comfort the little boy in the meantime? She walked back into her living room and heard no more sobs, though his whole body was still tucked beneath the blanket, trembling slightly.

  “Can I get you something? Do you want something to eat?”

  “No, I want my dad,” he sniffled.

  “He’s on his way. He’ll be here in a few minutes to get you.” One eye peeked out from under the blanket and she nodded reassuringly at him. “Why don’t you come out and I’ll put on some cartoons.” She waved at him encouragingly.

  “Do you like the Shipshape Stupids?” he asked flipping more of the blanket off him and sitting up.

  She tuned the television to the only kids’ programming channel she knew and watched as he disappointedly sat back to watch. “Sorry, this is the only channel I have for kids. Tell me about the show you like though, what is it about.”

  He shook off the rest of the blanket and began to explain the premise of what sounded to Sydney like the dumbest show ever. Between this and video games, she decided the boy’s generation was doomed.

  When Chris knocked on the door it was like a weight being lifted off her chest. Sh
e hurried over to let him in. She had hoped the feeling she always got when seeing him would have diminished some since seeing him pummel Caleb, but she was wrong. If anything the pull was stronger. The shadow of a beard on his cheeks and the wool hat on his head made him look even more handsome. Damn him for being hot even when he wasn’t trying.

  “Is he okay?” he asked, looking over her shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of his son.

  “He’s a little better now. I’m sorry; I might have panicked. I wasn’t prepared for the tears.” She felt Little Chris blow past her and watched as he jumped into his father’s arms.

  “Buddy, you can’t go running off like that. If you have a problem you know you can come to me.”

  “I know, Daddy, I’m sorry.” He whimpered into Chris’s neck and squeezed him tighter.

  “I love you,” Chris cooed, lowering his son back to his feet. “I’ll talk to the parents of the kids bothering you and we’ll sort it out. Now go get your shoes and socks on so we can give Miss Sydney some peace and quiet.” The boy scurried off to get his shoes and socks, hanging on the heater to dry.

  “You’re going to talk to the parents, huh? That should be an interesting conversation.” She wasn’t trying to be playful or hurtful. She didn’t know what she was trying to accomplish.

  “I’m going to leave the hacksaw at home.” He kicked at the snow a bit and looked down at his feet. “Thank you for being here for him today.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Sydney, I’m sorry for the other day.” Little Chris ran back past her, his coat zipped tight and his hat pulled on.

  Her arms tried to defy her and reach up to hold him. Maybe she could hold him tight enough to keep him from stepping out of her life, but she couldn’t do that. Her heart pounded with indecision. Despite her outwardly firm resolve, her eyes burned with tears that she wouldn’t shed. Not in front of him.

  She wanted to ask them to stay, or to hop in the car with them and go back to the way things were before yesterday. Instead she watched them get in their car and stared after them as the taillights disappeared down the road.