Unwrapping Daddy: A Christmas Holiday Romance

by Lisa Lace

  Megan points at me accusingly. “He hasn’t even got a turkey.”

  I throw Zoe an apologetic look. “I’m about to go and get one.”

  Megan throws her hands up in the air. “Who can get a turkey on Thanksgiving morning?”

  Zoe smiles and rests her hand on Megan’s shoulder, casting me a reassuring smile. “Good thing Aunt Zoe has it all under control, then, isn’t it?”

  I’m filled with a sense of relief. I was hoping for our streak of family fun to continue over the holidays, but Megan has woken up on the wrong side of the bed. She’s spent the last fifteen minutes listing everything I’ve already done wrong.

  “You have a turkey?” I ask.

  She smiles. “Of course, I have a turkey.” She pulls open the oven door, where the turkey, still in its plastic wrap, is sitting in a roasting tray. “It’s been thawing since last night, and I bought everything else we needed earlier in the week. Panic over!”

  Megan lets out a long breath. “Thank God someone knows what they’re doing around here.”

  “Hey, Meg, cut your uncle some slack, will you? It’s not easy to put a whole Thanksgiving together.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re the one who’s done everything!”

  Zoe raises an eyebrow. “And it wasn’t easy. Have you ever tried carrying a full Thanksgiving dinner home from work? The turkey alone was ten pounds! But dinner’s only part of Thanksgiving. Your uncle has prepared all these decorations and collected all those board games for us. Don’t you think that’s nice?”

  “I guess.” She flicks her gaze to me. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say. “Your Aunt Zoe and I will put dinner together, and we’ll have a really nice day. I promise.”

  Megan goes upstairs to get showered, and I let out a long breath, leaning my weight on the counter. I look over to Zoe with a grin. “What would I do without you?”

  Zoe laughs, sweeping past me to pull out a bag of potatoes from a corner cupboard and a cutting board from behind the bread bin. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”

  “I thought your parents hadn’t been around for a while?”

  “They haven’t, but I always order Laura’s turkey. The Thanksgiving turkey is Super-Mom’s kryptonite. She forgets every year.”

  “Are you kidding me? I thought Laura never missed a beat.”

  “It’s her one weakness.” Zoe winks at me and presses a finger against her lips. “I didn’t say a word.”

  I’m standing behind Zoe, and I reach over her to grab a knife from the block. I hold the position longer than I need to, breathing in Zoe’s sweet scent. Her hair smells like last night’s shampoo.

  She twists to turn her face to mine. She smiles.

  I lean forward and kiss her. She is so beautiful. Everything about her beckons me in. I want her. Zoe has kept me at arm’s length while we’re both in the house, not wanting to chase a passion while Laura and the kids need her. We haven’t been intimate since the night we went to dinner.

  Zoe returns my kiss. Heat floods through me. I’ve been waiting so long. I sense the desire in her. She lifts a hand to my face, pressing a palm against my cheek and spinning her body so that she’s facing me. I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her close so suddenly that she almost trips. She giggles and wraps her arms around my neck.

  We’re deep in a passionate kiss when a thump upstairs makes us both jump back. Zoe flushes and immediately looks guilty. She clears her throat and tucks her hair behind her ear before turning back to the potatoes.

  I pick up the knife again and begin peeling. We don’t say anything, and when Megan strides through the kitchen a moment later to pick up her cell phone charger, she has no idea that we were locked in a kiss an instant before.

  Megan leaves, and I lean in toward Zoe, speaking softly. “Being so close to you is killing me.”

  She turns to face me, her eyes filled with longing. “I know, Tom, but we can’t turn the kids’ tragedy into our fling.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “I know. But we need to put them first.”

  I say no more, even though I want nothing more than to kiss her again. She continues preparing dinner. It’s hard to be near her every day and to have to hold back, but I respect her for drawing the line. She always puts everyone else first.

  Perhaps I would think she just wasn’t interested—if I wasn’t always catching her looking at me with big, affectionate eyes, or hearing her laughing at my jokes, or feeling her hand slip into mine when the kids weren’t around. I know she wants this, too.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever cooked for Thanksgiving before.”

  Zoe smiles. “You’re doing a great job. First the pancakes, now Thanksgiving dinner. You’re a natural in the kitchen.”

  I’m spurred on by her compliments and show off by throwing herbs into the stuffing mix like I’m a pro chef, with no real idea of what the end result will be. Around Zoe, I’m discovering many new things about myself, and rediscovering old interests I haven’t pursued for a long time. I always loved to cook.

  Between us, we prepare a feast. Before long, every pan in the kitchen is bubbling, and the air is filled with the delicious aroma of roasting turkey and yams.

  Zoe and I have been brushing against each other all morning in the kitchen. We haven’t kissed again, but the air has been heavy with desire. Every now and then, Zoe throws me a fond glance. I catch her often glancing at me over her shoulder. When I spot her, she grins and looks away.

  There are signs; the way she lets her hand rest on the small of my back as she passes by, the way she shares my cutting board, even though there are two others she could use. The attraction is palpable.

  Something more than that is happening. Life with Zoe feels natural. Each day, my guard comes down a little more, and I don’t need to wear the mask of Thomas Vermont. Zoe sees past all that, to the person I really am.

  We’re about to serve the dinner, so we call the kids down. Jack happily takes his place at the table, gripping a knife and fork in his little fists, eager to dig in.

  Megan stands in the doorway. She looks distant and tearful. All of a sudden, she throws down her hands. “This isn’t right.”

  Zoe looks up, perplexed. “Honey, we’ve done everything the way your mom would.”

  “I’m not talking about the turkey. I’m talking about the fact that Mom isn’t here.”

  “Sweetheart, you know she can’t be moved right now.”

  “No,” I interrupt. “Megan’s right. Laura shouldn’t be missing out on this.” I look over at my niece and smile. “Grab the foil, Meg. Your mom can’t come to Thanksgiving, so we’ll take Thanksgiving to her. Jack, grab the board games.”

  When I look to Zoe, she is beaming at me. She helps me put the food onto dishes, which Megan covers with foil. We pack up everything and the four of us head to the hospital.

  We get a few looks as we walk through the hospital with arms piled high with plates, but nobody says anything. A nurse or two throw us a kindly smile and let us pass.

  Laura doesn’t know we’re there when we first arrive, but Megan soon announces our arrival. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mom.”

  “Kids?” Laura’s voice is joyful. She laughs. “Tom, Zoe? Are you here too?”

  I step into her view and wave. “Still here.”

  Laura’s eyes brim with happy tears. They dart from side to side, taking in all the plates and games. “You did all this for me?”

  I put my arm around Megan and nod my head toward her. “Actually, this was all Megan’s idea. She didn’t want to do Thanksgiving without you.”

  Laura turns her gaze to Megan and smiles, full of affection. “Thank you, darling.”

  We unwrap the food and take out the cutlery we’ve bought with us, and we each find a place in the room to eat. The kids sit either side of Laura on chairs, and Zoe and I perch on the windowsill.

  Megan and Jack talk at Laura a hundred miles an hour. After a while, I feel
a gentle pressure on my shoulder and look down to see Zoe resting her head on me, a content smile on her face. I instinctively put my arm around her. She lifts her eyes to me, smiles.

  “Looks like Aunt Zoe and Uncle Tom are feeling festive.” Megan giggles.

  Laura grins. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “They’re being all smoochy on the windowsill.”

  “Smoochy, huh?”

  Zoe laughs. “There’s no smooching going on here.”

  “What is going on?”

  I look down at Zoe; she looks up at me. She’s the first to break into a smile. I grin in return, then clear my throat and address my sister. “Like Meg says, we’re feeling festive.”

  It’s a great afternoon. We play games, Megan moving pieces for Laura. Laughter rings through the room the whole time. If I close my eyes, it’s easy to imagine that we’re sitting in Laura’s living room instead of the hospital.

  We only leave when Laura begins to grow tired, and can’t hold back her yawns.

  Zoe leans over her and kisses her forehead goodbye. “Happy Thanksgiving, Laura. Keep getting better.” She turns to me. “I’ll start taking all of this back to the car.”

  “Meg, Jack—would you help your Aunt Zoe? I want a quick word with your mom.”

  After a day at Laura’s side, Megan’s willing to do as I say. She gathers up a few board games, kisses her Mom goodbye and follows Zoe to the car with Jack close behind.

  I sit at Laura’s side after they’ve left and take her hand. “Fun day, huh?”

  Laura’s eyes flick up to me, and she grins. “You’re becoming quite the family man, although I’m not sure it’s your niece and nephew that have done the trick.”

  “Are you kidding? The kids are great.”

  “And Zoe?”

  I look away, not wanting it to be too obvious that I’m totally crazy about Laura’s best friend. I nod. “She’s great, too.”

  “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  “Like what?”

  “All happy and smiley, joining in. Did I hit my head in that accident?”

  I laugh, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back, keeping my hand closed around Laura’s. “No, you’re fine. It is me that’s changed.”

  “You’ve noticed it too, then?”

  “Maine’s not as bad as I remembered.”

  “I bet Zoe’s not how you remember, either. Tell me honestly, Tom: are you two a thing now?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what’s happening with us. Zoe’s holding back because of all this.” I glance at Laura and give her a warm smile. “And I’m not convinced she’s wrong. You and the kids are what’s important.”

  “Come on, Tom. You run that huge company and are telling me you can’t focus on two things at once? I’ve never seen you this relaxed. You remind me of the Tom I used to know, back when we were kids. You know, Jack reminds me of you sometimes. You had that much energy and joy when you were his age. It’s good to see you having fun again.”

  I lean forward and kiss her on the temple. “It feels good. And how are you doing, honestly?”

  “Honestly? I’ve never been so bored in my life, and I’m having dreams about all the weddings I’m not a part of. I woke up at two in the morning the other night in a panic because a bride had spilled red wine all over her dress. Then I realized I was still in the hospital, with my head trapped in a birdcage.”

  I laugh. “Not for much longer now. Better your head in a birdcage than life in a wheelchair, right?”

  She smiles. “I know. I can’t wait to get out of here though.”

  “We can’t wait to have you home.”

  Laura grins. “‘We’? ‘Home’? Honestly, who is this guy?”

  I squeeze her hand. “Goodnight, Laura. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Tom?”

  I pause when I hear Laura calling me, and turn back over my shoulder.

  Her eyes are filled with grateful tears. She smiles. “Thank you for still being here. You’ve been amazing.”

  Zoe

  I sing Christmas songs while I work, my shop decked out for the season. I have mini Christmas trees covered in lights sprinkled around, and mistletoe hanging from every beam in the ceiling. My oil-burner behind the counter wafts out a sweet cinnamon scent. I feel like one of Santa’s elves.

  There’s been a smile on my face all morning. Tom made me a lunch to take to work today, and I was touched. We’ve gone from being haphazardly thrown together to finding our stride. It all feels so right.

  “Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la, la la.”

  My cell rings. I see it’s Tom, and a smile jumps across my face. Sometimes he calls me in the middle of the day, asking if there’s anything I want from the grocery store, or offering to take me out to lunch. I always look forward to hearing his voice no matter what the reason.

  I answer with a sing-song, “Hell-o!”

  Tom’s voice is grave on the end of the line. “Zoe, it’s Laura. She’s taken a turn for the worse.”

  I switch off the radio and give Tom my full attention. My heart is frozen in my chest like someone’s squeezing it tightly. How can she be worse? She was getting so much better.

  “What happened?”

  “A blood clot.”

  “What?”

  “DVT. The blood clot traveled to her lung. She’s had a pulmonary embolism.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “They’re giving her warfarin now. They’re hoping it will be enough to break down the clot.”

  “And if it’s not?”

  “We’ll face that hurdle when we come to it. The important thing is that they caught it early.”

  “What should we do about the kids?”

  “They finish in half an hour. Do you want to come with us?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  “I’ll head over to you now, and we’ll go get the kids.”

  “I’ll close up.”

  “See you in ten.”

  Tom hangs up, and I’m left in a state of shock. Poor Laura. I sink down against the counter and draw my knees up to my chest, squeezing my eyes shut. My head is spinning with the news. Laura’s come so far to be hit with a new disaster. And what about the kids?

  I know there’s no time for me to panic, so I pick myself up, brush off my clothes and begin switching off the lights. That part of me that comes alive in a crisis kicks in, and I’m able to control my emotions.

  Still, I say a little prayer for Laura inside my head. Please let her be okay.

  Tom arrives moments later, and I step into his car. He steps on the gas and spins us toward the school.

  He looks over at me from the steering wheel. His expression is tense. He reaches out to give my hand a squeeze. “Ready?”

  I give a little nod. “I can’t believe this has happened. She’s been fine for weeks.”

  “Blood clots are common after major surgeries. She’s stuck in one position all the time. She was at a higher risk. She’s unlucky that it broke off. Thank God the staff were keeping a close eye on her.”

  “Any news on if the meds are working?”

  Tom shakes his head. “We’ll find out when we get there.”

  We arrive at the school, and Tom pulls up in his usual spot. A short while later, Megan and Jack emerge. Megan has her hand on Jack’s upper back, guiding him toward the car as he waves goodbye to friends over his shoulder.

  She steps into the car and immediately frowns. “What are you doing here, Aunt Zoe? Your store doesn’t close for another hour and a half.”

  “It’s your, Mom, Meg.”

  Megan’s expression falters. Jack’s head snaps up, his eyes growing round and worried. Megan puts her arm around him protectively and lifts her chin. “What happened?”

  “She developed a blood clot. It’s traveled to her lung.”

  Tom looks back over his shoulder to comfort her. “They’ve found it early, and they’re already working to break it down.�
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  “What happens if they can’t?”

  Tom lifts his gaze to the mirror to catch Megan’s eyes. “That won’t happen.”

  Jack looks up at me fearfully. “Is Mom going to be okay?”

  I nod. “Yes, sweetie.”

  “I thought she was getting better.” Megan’s voice comes out in a frightened whisper.

  I reach out and squeeze her shoulder. “She has been, and she’s going to continue to get better.”

  Megan’s eyes brim with tears, and she shakes her head. “You don’t know that.”

  “Come on now, Meg. This is your mother we’re talking about. She’s come this far, hasn’t she? She’ll pull through this, too. Your Uncle Tom says this is a common complication after surgery.”

  “That’s right,” Tom agrees. “It happens all the time. She’s in the right place for treatment.”

  I glance over at him and see the fear I feel reflected in his own eyes. Sure, Laura’s a fighter, but how many blows can one woman take?

  Tom gets us to the hospital in record time, and we trace the now familiar path to Laura’s room.

  She’s still in her bed, but she doesn’t look healthy. Her skin is grey, her lips blue. She’s clutching her chest. She’s coughing, making her body jolt in a way that makes me wince. What if she damages her back?

  A doctor and a nurse are monitoring her fervently. At a wave of the doctor’s hand, more medics file in and begin to move Laura’s bed, wheeling her away. She’s gasping for breath. I touch her arm as they roll her past; she’s ice-cold.

  I turn back over my shoulder. “Megan, honey, maybe you and Jack should step outside.”

  Megan stays still, her hands on Jack’s shoulders, and shakes her head. “I don’t want the sugar-coated version of what’s going on here. I want to know the truth.”

  Tom catches the doctor before he can follow the others out. He grabs his arm and begs for an explanation. “Please, Doctor, tell us what’s happening.”

  The doctor comes to a still. He looks tired and worried. Not a reassuring look.