by Unknown
“Me, too,” C.J. admitted. He hadn’t, in fact, even been sure he was going to go through with seeing his father until he’d actually rung the doorbell. “I wanted you to meet my daughter.”
“I’m a…grandfather?”
The light in John’s eyes told C.J. he had been right to come and to bring Sarah. She should know her grandfather, after all, even if it was at the end of his life. C.J. didn’t know how much time his father had, but found himself already hoping for more.
“Her name is Sarah. She’s six. And absolutely perfect, of course.” C.J. chuckled.
“Tell me about her,” his father said.
In John’s eyes, C.J. read genuine interest. Maybe it was seeing the end of his life approaching so close, maybe it was regrets catching up with him. Maybe it was simply that he had a grandchild, but something had turned John from a distant bystander in C.J.’s life to a vested player. And so he did as his father asked, telling John everything—about attempting Sarah’s ponytails, and buying the Doctor Barbie for Cassidy, and setting up the Winterfest, and playing Santa.
“You did all that?”
“Yeah. I kind of got talked into the Santa part. But it was fun and I was glad I did it. It sort of made up for—” C.J. cut off the sentence.
Silence cut between them. His father’s hand slackened on C.J.’s, then he bit his lip, let out a breath and refocused his grip. “For all those Christmases you never had.”
Beside him, the morphine timer clicked on and began to dispense its automatic dose of pain medication.
C.J. cleared his throat. “That’s all in the past, Dad.”
With his free hand, his father folded the blanket over his stomach, then folded it again before meeting his son’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Christopher. I was a lousy father. I don’t even know if there’s enough adjectives for how terrible I was, how self-centered I was in those years.”
C.J. didn’t say anything. He could have taken the opportunity to scream and yell, let loose with thirty-plus years of blame, but what would be the point now? There was no going back and undoing what had been done. And so he waited, hoping that his father’s apology would be followed by the answer to why.
His father worked at the blanket for a moment more, then pushed the edge away and heaved a sigh. “When I lost your mother, I couldn’t handle being a parent. It was like I lost my compass when she died and I didn’t know what to do with you, so I did…nothing.” John’s features crumbled, and for the first time ever, C.J. saw true regret take over his father’s face. “I can’t change any of that now, as much as I wish I could, but I can tell you to be better than I was. Bad advice, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m sorry, C.J.” His father’s grip trembled. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Dad. It’s all right.” He squeezed his father’s hand, and realized that it was. He’d turned out okay, hadn’t he? Not a criminal, not a drug addict, but a responsible, tax-paying citizen with a career and a future. And now, a child.
What good was bitterness going to do him? What good had it done any of them? “I forgive you.”
When the morphine had gone into John’s system, C.J. had seen the tightening in his father’s shoulders and jaw lessen, as the medication relieved some of his pain. But what the pharmaceutical industry had done was nothing compared to the effect those three words had. Everything about his father’s body seemed to relax, as if a ten-thousand-pound weight had been lifted from his back, and the hardness that C.J. had always associated with John was whisked away in an instant.
John’s watery eyes met his son’s, filled with disbelief at first, then gratitude. “Thank you, Christopher,” his father said, his voice breaking, “thank you.”
All C.J. could do was nod, and battle against the lump that had lodged in his throat.
After a long moment John sighed. “I guess I was never really ready to be a father.”
Hadn’t C.J. said the same thing, or at least thought it, a dozen times over the past week? “Maybe you’re never ready for a thing like that. All you can do is the best you’re able.”
A knock sounded on the door, then Paula entered the room with Sarah by her side. “Someone wants to meet you.”
A tiny bit of peanut butter lingered on the corner of Sarah’s lips, which made C.J. and John chuckle. C.J. scooped up his daughter, whisked off the peanut butter, then brought her over to his father’s side. “This is your grandfather, John,” he said.
“Are you sick?” Sarah asked. Always direct, clearly a little of Kiki and a lot of C.J. in her.
John nodded, but smiled, too. “But it’s not something you can catch.”
That seemed to satisfy Sarah. She sat down on C.J.’s lap in the chair, and after a few minutes, started chattering about her life in Riverbend, as comfortable with John as she would be with anyone. The longer his daughter talked, the more amazed C.J. became at the transformation he saw in his father. The distance between the two men seemed to close even more as Sarah talked, telling her stories and including them both in her conversations about Christmas and unicorns, making them laugh, as if her words were the balm they’d each needed.
Jessica had been right. Sarah was the perfect medicine for what had been ailing this broken relationship.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RIVERBEND was silent. Jessica parked her car downtown, in the same spot as the night before, only now the town was quiet, everyone buttoned down for Christmas Eve, families gathered together, counting their blessings.
A bone-deep ache pierced Jessica and she sucked in a breath, but it did nothing to assuage the pain. She wanted some of what so many of those in Riverbend had. A family. A child.
A life to come home to.
She’d had that with Dennis, but always it had been missing that one more element.
By choice, she knew. But now, if she could go back and do it over again—
But the past was where it was, and all she had was what lay ahead.
Jessica began to stroll through the silent town park toward Santa’s Village, drawing her coat tight against the cold. The lights C.J. had set up still twinkled, but the people were gone, the carolers all at home, the band members probably wearing their flannel pajamas, their bellies full of hot chocolate.
The animals had been returned to whatever zoo or farm normally housed them, all except for Dash, who was happily antler-deep in his feed bin, munching a mix of hay and grain. Jessica called Dash over to the edge of the pen, then fished out a carrot stick and fed it to the skittish animal, who snagged it out of her hand, then hurried to the other side of the pen to munch in privacy.
“I don’t blame you,” she said to the reindeer. “That’s pretty much how I like to operate. Stick to your own self and that way no one ever gets hurt.”
She draped her arms over the wooden fence post and sighed. “But that hasn’t worked out so well for me, huh?” She picked a splinter out of the wood and tossed it to the ground. “What’s that old saying about jumping off a bridge? Either you do it with both feet or you wind up watching all the other boats pass you by?”
Jessica pushed off from the fence. “Well, I’m done standing on the bridge. I’m ready to leap.”
Dash didn’t provide so much as a hoof stomp in response. He stared at her. Probably thought she needed therapy for standing in the cold, talking to a reindeer in the middle of the night.
She glanced at her watch. It was nearly midnight. Far too late to show up on C.J.’s doorstep and tell him that a meaningful conversation with a reindeer had changed her mind about taking risks and standing still. Tomorrow, she decided, would be soon enough.
“Mrs. Patterson, aren’t you supposed to be on a beach somewhere?”
Jessica turned at the sound of Earl Klein’s voice. “Oh, yeah. I, ah, missed the snow.”
He chuckled. “I knew you couldn’t take the Christmas out of the Claus. Glad you came back.”
She smiled. “I am, too. What are you doing out here at this time of night?”
“
Checking on the reindeer. C.J. asked me to keep an eye on him until the reindeer farm picks him up on the twenty-sixth. They had a little incident with the other reindeer. Apparently a few of ’em tried to make a break for it.” Earl leaned in, cupped a hand over his mouth, as if Dash might overhear their conversation. “I suspect they were trying to get to the North Pole in time for Christmas. Anyway, they busted down a fence, got all riled up, and the place asked if we could keep Dash till they had a chance to get it fixed. Then I s’ppose I’ll have to run the reindeer on up with my truck and trailer.”
“C.J. isn’t going to do it?”
“He can’t. He’s not here anymore.”
“Not here…?” Cold ice sank to the pit of Jessica’s stomach, a hard block that cut off her air, her thoughts. “He’s gone?”
Already?
“Yep. Pulled out of here early this morning. Didn’t say where he was going. ’Course, I ain’t his momma, so I wouldn’t expect him to keep his calendar with me or anything like that.”
“Of course.” Jessica rubbed her hands together, suddenly chilled to the bone. She was too late. She’d missed her opportunity with C.J., with Sarah. “I should get home.” But home no longer held the appeal it had just a few minutes earlier. She should have stayed in Miami. Stayed on the plane. Stayed in her car.
Done anything not to have heard Earl say that C.J. had already left.
“That’s a good idea,” Earl said. “Everyone should be home on Christmas Eve. Even old men like me.” He reached into a bin, pulled out some feed for Dash, making sure the reindeer had plenty of food and water to get him through the night, then tipped his cap Jessica’s way. “Good night, Mrs. Claus. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Earl.” But for the first time, when Jessica said the words, they had lost their holiday ring.
C.J. had been walking for half an hour, wandering the streets of Riverbend, thinking. After a while he found himself exactly where he expected to end up—in the middle of his own creation.
The Winterfest.
The park was silent. Everyone in town was at home, the carousel still, the vendors gone, the food carts empty. The entire park had an eerie, almost tomblike feeling to it.
Yet it was as familiar to C.J. as the back of his own hand. He knew this empty shell. It was a set, the back of the Hollywood image, after the actors had gone home, the cameras were turned off, and the charade had been exposed as nothing more than smoke and mirrors.
Everything here had been part of creating that Christmas dream—everything a facade, except for one very real, breathing element—
C.J. stopped and sucked in a deep gulp of cold air.
Jessica.
He crossed the snow-covered lawn in several quick strides, reaching out and grasping her shoulder to stop her before she could disappear and turn into a figment of his imagination. “Jessica?”
She turned and when she did, the moonlight caught her face, reflecting little glints of silver on her cheeks. “C.J.?”
“Why are you crying?”
“I…I thought you were gone.”
“I was, but I came back. And…so did you, I see.” She was here, and he’d been so sure she’d stay in Florida and skip Christmas entirely. “Did you get sunburned?”
It was a stupid question, but he asked it because he was afraid to ask the real ones. Had she come back because she wanted him—or because she wanted to say goodbye?
She shrugged, but then her tears gave way to a smile. “I missed the snow. I missed the town.” A pause. A heartbeat. “I missed you.”
Now his heart soared, and C.J. realized no one in Hollywood would ever be able to write a line of dialogue that could be as perfect as those three words. “I missed you, too.” Then he caught her hands with his. “Where are your gloves? You never have any gloves on.”
“I came straight from the airport. I didn’t need gloves in Miami, silly.”
“Good. Because that means I can warm you up.” He pressed her cold fingertips to his lips and blew lightly on them. “Better?”
“Much.” Then she looked around. “Where’s Sarah?”
“LuAnn came over after I got back to the apartment tonight. She said she likes Kiki’s TV better than hers, but I think she was looking for an excuse to kick me out of the house so I could…” He grinned. “Well, I guess so I could go looking for you. All the way to Miami if necessary.”
“A little matchmaking at work?”
“She told me she thought we made a pretty good married couple.”
“Married couple?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Claus.”
“Oh, yeah. That.”
For a second C.J. wondered if he’d made a mistake. After all, Jessica’s original Santa had died. Was it rude to even suggest he could replace him? “I’m sorry, Jessica, I didn’t mean—”
“No, don’t.” She pressed her fingers to his lips. “You’re fine. I thought we were good together, too. Maybe we should take the show on the road.”
He chuckled. “Sonny and Cher, only in Santa suits?”
“The only problem with that is I can’t sing.”
“That would present a dilemma.” He rubbed his thumbs over her hands, then looked up to meet her eyes. He needed to tell her a thousand different things. He’d start at the beginning and hope she wanted to stay with him, right to the end. “You were right. I went and saw my father, yesterday—that’s where I’ve been—and brought Sarah to meet him. We may not have fixed everything, but we came close enough.”
She smiled. “I’m happy for you, C.J. I really am.”
“I have more to tell you, Jessica, so much more. About Sarah, and our relationship and—”
Her hand went to his mouth, stopping his words. “I have something to say first. I made a decision tonight. I’m going to sell the store to Mindy.”
“Sell Santa’s Workshop? You can’t do that.”
“Mindy loves it, too, and I’m sure she’ll do a wonderful job running it. Plus, I have plenty of great employees who’ll help her.”
“But…but why would you do that?”
“I got down to Miami, slapped on my sunscreen, ordered my mai tai and realized I didn’t want any of it, heck, didn’t want anything here or there, not without you. None of this—” Jessica swept an arm in a semicircle, indicating the town “—matters at all if I don’t have you in my life. You and Sarah. I’m tired of being afraid of what might happen, C.J., because I already realized the worst that could happen.”
“What’s that?”
A wobbly smile took over her face. “I could lose you. And I don’t care if we have ten years together or twenty or a hundred. I’m not going to live life any longer waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve already been through the worst, and I survived.”
Winter swirled a dusting of flakes around them, a gust of light wind. A Christmas-light rainbow twinkled in Jessica’s hair, danced across her features, giving her an ethereal, magical edge. C.J. traced along the edge of her jaw, loving her more in that moment than he’d ever thought he could. “But you’re Mrs. Claus. And I live in California.”
“I bet they need Mrs. Clauses out there, too. And if moving out west is what it takes to leap off the bridge and finally have the life I really want, then that’s where I’ll go. Because it’s where you are.”
She’d given it all up, for him. The store. The town. Even the snow.
C.J. roared with laughter. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I just threw away my business and you’re laughing?” There was no merriment in her face now, only frustration.
“Oh, Jessica, not over that, but because—” he waited a second to catch his breath, the humor and the irony too much “—because on the way back from my father’s house, I quit my job. Told them I was moving to Riverbend, Indiana, to take up permanent residence in Santa’s Village.”
It took about five seconds for the irony to hit her, too, and then Jessica started to laugh. “Oh, no, you didn’t.”
/> “I did. The director asked me if I wanted the name of his shrink. And if that one didn’t work out, he offered the name of his Chihuahua’s shrink, too.”
“Why would you do that?”
He drew in a breath, feeling the frosty air ice every inch of his windpipe, all the way to his lungs. And loving the feeling, the very real, very tangible feeling of cold. “Let me show you something.” He took her hand and led her across the lawn, beside the gazebo and over to the gingerbread family.
A mother, a father and two gingerbread children, all made out of a flexible polymer that allowed them to move. Lights blinked under their gumdrop buttons, in their candy eyes. Their arms waved up and down, their bodies twisted side to side and their smiles were wide and happy. The two gingerbread children held hands and waved their clasped arms back and forth with a whispered mechanical whine.