Chapter 10
Hope kicked the Christmas tree laying in her parent’s driveway.
Joel stood beside her, his hands on his hips. “Bad tree.”
Yes bad tree. Bad Uncle Brady. Bad everything.
Hope tugged on her father’s work gloves. She’d walked by her brother’s closed bedroom door that morning. That was the closest she’d come to her brother the entire day. It was nine o’clock in the evening and still no Brady. Still no Sullivan Christmas jubilee happening inside their parent’s house. Still no end to the chill that had ruptured through her when Chris had shut the door last night.
She’d anticipated the pain from Chris’ departure. But one time she’d like her brother to surprise her and have her back. She yanked the toboggan she’d discovered in the garage next to the wrapped tree. “Ok, third time’s a charm. Hold the sled, Joel.”
Hope straddled the seven and a half foot tree and scooted it forward. Twice she’d rolled it and only managed to litter the driveway in pine needles as it had rolled off the other side of the sled. But her plan was simple. Tie the tree to the toboggan and drag it into the house. The tree was going inside tonight, if Hope had to carry it in needle by needle.
Hope needed one thing to go right. More orders hadn’t arrived that morning as promised and the customers proved to be less accommodating than Mrs. Parker and Mrs. Green. The deliveries had taken an hour longer than she’d planned. She’d gotten turned around several times in the neighborhood. Even Joel had lost interest when they’d passed the same gingerbread house with the Santa workshop in its front yard for the fifth time.
Joel clapped near her head. “Go Mommy.”
Hope heaved the tree onto the sled. “Hand me the jump rope.”
Joel tossed her the jump rope. She shimmied it beneath the sled and knotted it around the tree. “That’s how it’s done.”
Joel picked up the rope handle and motioned for her to hurry, his loose glove flopping on his hand. “Inside.”
Hope shook out her arms then towed the tree to the back door. Joel opened the door while she released the jump rope. Straddling the tree, she dragged it inside, dropped it in the kitchen before finally sliding it in front of the fireplace. Part of the netting had popped free and pine needles made a forest path across the carpet. Still it was inside.
Hope’s inner elf patted her on the back as she dropped on the floor in front of the couch. “Think we can decorate it like that?”
“We need to drink it.” Joel pointed at the tree trunk.
“It does need water.” She dropped her head on the couch. She had a perfectly good artificial tree at her apartment with easy set-up instructions: insert the blue wrapped branch into the blue slot. She’d seriously been considering getting a newer tree with the lights built into the branches. Then she’d have an instant Christmas. Nothing about a perfect Sullivan Christmas was simple or easy.
She glared through her eyelashes at the half a dozen bins she’d carried down from the attic. There was another half a dozen still upstairs. Her legs cramped at the thought. “I don’t think I can lift the tree into the stand. We’re going to need Uncle Brady.”
“Riff?” Joel patted the tree like it was an old dog too tired to wag its tail.
Riff. No, Chris wouldn’t be here to help. She ached, one of those bone weary aches that aspirin wouldn’t ease. “We’ll wait for Uncle Brady and then decorate. How’s that sound for a plan?”
Joel frowned. “I don’t like it.”
She wasn’t sure she liked it either. But it was the only one she had. Unless she wanted to make a new plan. A plan that included Chris Hayes and magic. But she didn’t believe in magic. Didn’t make plans with her heart. She used the cushion for leverage and stood. “How about a cookie?”
Joel raced into the kitchen and climbed onto a chair at the table, a candy cane cookie in one hand and a container of glitter in the other. “What’s this?’
Hope bit into a star cookie. The red frosting stuck to her dry mouth. She’d forgotten about the reindeer food. The dozens of jars she’d carried in from the car that morning still covered the table. Two bulk-sized burlap bags of oats leaned against the table legs. Red and green glitter containers sat on the island. She tossed the rest of her cookie in the sink.
Now Hope needed a plan for the supplies. She didn’t want to make reindeer food. She didn’t want to stand in line to return everything. She didn’t want to deal with it.
Joel finished his cookie and pointed at the glitter. “Can I taste it?”
“No, it’s for the reindeer.” She pressed her lips together. Now she had to deal with it.
“Deer food?” Joel jumped off his chair and grabbed a green glitter container.
Hope dropped into the chair across from Joel. “I don’t suppose you want to make some reindeer food tomorrow?”
Joel shook his head. “Now.”
Hope sighed. It was her own fault. She’d juiced her son up on a large hot chocolate during their delivery run that evening. Guilt had persuaded her to add the extra whipped cream. He’d been so patient with her. He’d always been patient with her just like his father.
She squeezed her forehead. She wasn’t thinking about Chris. Not now. “We can put some jars together for the store.” Maybe that would appease her customers tomorrow morning.
Joel lined up the containers according to color on the table. Grabbing the box cutter she’d swiped from the store, she squatted, gripped one end of the oatmeal bag with her free hand and sliced into the burlap. She’d expected the fabric to be tougher and she’d never mastered a box cutter. The material gave way too quickly. The blade sliced through the burlap with ease and continued across her left palm, past her thumb and up along her wrist.
Hope jerked and fell on the floor. The box cutter rattled against the tiles. Oatmeal spewed all over her legs and feet. She squeezed her eyes closed and dragged in air. Her skin was on fire. Her fingers damp. And a throb started to pulse in her arm.
“Mommy,” Joel hollered. His chair crashed backwards as his bare feet hit the floor. “Mommy!”
“I’m okay, buddy,” Hope said through her gritted teeth. “I just need you to get Mommy a towel. Can you do that?”
Joel’s footsteps tapped away. Hope counted to ten and drew in another deep breath. She was going to need to look. There was no one else. No one else to tend her wound. No one else to man-up.
Joel returned, his footsteps quieter, his voice hushed. “Mommy?”
“Where’s the towel sweetie?” Hope lifted her good hand and pressed the towel over her arm.
“You’re leaking, Mommy.”
She’d leaked before. It was fine. Except her entire arm felt numb and weak and throbbed. She held her breath, peeked at her cut and swayed into the chair. This was not fine. Very much not fine. Her right hand trembled, but she managed to wrap the towel around her left arm.
Joel squatted beside her. “No more leak?”
How she wished. She’d be leaking for a while unless she got to a doctor with a needle and thread. “We’re going to have to wait on the reindeer food.”
Joel’s bottom lip dipped. “Because of the leak?”
“Mommy needs to see a doctor,” Hope said. “Can you show me how you can be a big boy and put on your boots and jacket?”
Joel puffed up his chest and ran to grab his coat and snow boots. Hope clutched her hand against her stomach and used the chair to push herself up.
Joel leaned against her leg. “Mommy?”
“Okay, buddy, let’s go.” She clamped her teeth together. Joel followed her to the car and climbed into his car seat. Hope moved to the driver side.
Joel snapped his buckle after several tries. “Riff?”
Yes, she needed Chris. “Can you get Mommy’s phone from my purse?” Thankfully she’d left her purse on the backseat while she’d wrestled with the tree.
Joel dug inside her purse and handed her the phone. She called the station and asked for Sheriff Hayes. But he wasn�
�t there. She hung up when the operator asked if she wanted to leave a message.
The operator had told her Chris was helping to fight a fire at the wedding chapel, instead of fighting for her. She shook her head. That wasn’t right. The operator only said something about a fire. Chris was doing his job. He had a job to do and it wasn’t rescuing Hope. She had a job too. It was in the city and included taking care of herself.
She’d tried to put together a perfect holiday like her mother. Tried to run the perfect holiday store like her sister. She’d failed. Even her inner elf was silent. She didn’t need any more proof than the blood trail she’d left across the kitchen tiles.
She just didn’t fit in Christmas Town.
An hour later, Hope rested on a bed in one of the ER bays, her arm bandaged and blissfully numb from her fingertips to her shoulder. Joel was stretched out on a recliner and covered with several blankets the kind nurse had brought in. Exhaustion seeped through Hope, first in her heavy legs, then her weary body and then even her thoughts dulled. She’d asked about the fire. No injuries. The nurse told her to rest. But she argued about being an inconvenience.
The nurse looked at her over her round glasses: “Honey, no one needs that bed more than a mom of a four year old. I have eighteen grandchildren, only two of them are girls. I know all about boys.”
Hope wanted to set her head on the nurse’s soft shoulder and cry. Stupid pain medications made her weepy.
The nurse tucked the blankets up around Joel’s shoulders. “You rest. Nothing at home that can’t wait.”
What home? There was nothing at home. There was no one at home. Another push of tears clouded her eyes. She blinked them back. That wasn’t true. She had a lovely apartment. A life with Joel. A good life. She liked her life. She fell asleep, convinced she loved her life.
Chapter 11
Chris lifted Joel from the chair in the ER room, sat down and arranged Joel across his chest. He covered Joel with a blanket and rested his head on the chair.
Brady had called him in a panic an hour earlier, ranting about blood and oatmeal all over the floor of their parents’ kitchen. Hope’s jacket was still on the chair. Her car was gone. Chris had been home less than fifteen minutes from the fire at Bells are Ringing wedding chapel. Enough time that he’d been stepping from the shower when his phone rang.
He’d be able to challenge any firefighter at the station for the quickest dressing drill. He rubbed Joel’s back when the boy curled into him. He still saw the blood. Hope’s blood, smeared all over the floor of the Sullivan kitchen. He tipped his head, looked at her wrapped arm. He’d called in on his way to the Sullivan’s and learned Hope had called the station. She’d called him, but hadn’t bothered to leave a message.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. She’d tried to reach him. He’d been unavailable. Helping with a fire. Doing his job. The job he’d sworn an oath to do. She’d consider that another abandonment, like being left at the tree farm or Brady not remembering her favorite cookie. He couldn’t live up to her standards. He couldn’t make it on her plan.
He set his arm on Hope’s bed, wrapped his fingers around her good hand. Stole the moment to hold her before she woke up and pulled away. Before he accepted the truth and walked away.
For one moment he wanted to pretend. Pretend they had a chance. Pretend this was real. This was all his: Hope, his son. His family. The one he’d always wished for. The one he’d always wanted. The one he could never have.
But wishes were as fleeting as a birthday candle’s flame. And wanting left only a dark hole in his gut and his heart empty. Like his mother. She’d wanted a different life. A different husband. To be a different person. His parents’ marriage had never worked because they hadn’t wanted the same things. Frank and Lisa Stone might work if they learned to want the same things from life. Hope and Chris would never work. He couldn’t want enough for both of them.
And Hope didn’t want this. She didn’t want Christmas Town. Or him.
He kissed Joel’s head, slid him into the side of the chair and eased out without waking his son. He sat on Hope’s bed, brushed her hair off her face, picked up her hand, kissed her fingers. Then he walked out.
Chapter 12
The nurse helped Hope into her jacket. “You didn’t tell me the Sheriff was waiting at home. I’d have driven you home myself last night.”
“The Sheriff,” she said. Chris was here. He hadn’t woken her up. Hadn’t waited.
“Sheriff Hayes.” The nurse buttoned Hope’s jacket. “Came in, held your boy on his lap and your hand, watching over you both while you slept.”
Hope rubbed her eyes. The pain meds made her brain foggy and set one thought on repeat: Chris had been here. Chris had come.
The nurse fastened the top button and looked at Hope. “You sure you shouldn’t wait for the Sheriff to return?”
Chris might have been here, but he wasn’t coming back. If he was, he’d have left a note or told the nurse he’d be back. He’d walked away. It was what she’d wanted. He was following the plan. Her heart felt as if it was shattering.
Hope hugged the nurse and thanked her. She took Joel’s hand and headed out to the parking lot. She still had time to change and make it to the store before opening. Nothing about that plan held any appeal. But without a different plan, she drove to her parent’s house.
She opened the back door.
Joel ran through the kitchen and yelled, “Tree. Tree. Tree.”
Hope set her purse on the counter. The kitchen had been cleaned. The tree stood beside the fireplace, open and beautiful with its white lights blinking and the angel lit in gold on the top. Even the reindeer food had been made. The filled jars lined the kitchen table.
“There isn’t as much reindeer food as you wanted.” Brady stepped into the kitchen. “Most of the oats from the first bag were ruined.”
“Thanks for this. And for putting up the tree.” Hope picked up one of the jars with the layered green and red glitter. Just the way she’d have made it. The ribbons and cards she’d printed for each jar had been attached.
“You wanted the perfect Christmas for Mom and Dad,” Brady said.
“This is the perfect start.” Hope set the jar back on the table and picked up another one. “You added sunflower seeds. I didn’t think anyone noticed I liked it that way.”
Brady rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, Chris and I debated that for almost an hour. He insisted you put sunflower seeds inside. I said no way.”
She nearly dropped the jar on the table. “Chris?”
“Yeah. You didn’t think I did all of this alone, did you?” Brady poured coffee into a travel mug.
“But Chris…” she said.
“Was rather insistent. Something about sunflowers bringing sunshine to the north pole.” Brady tipped his coffee mug at her. “He wouldn’t let me go to bed until we finished the reindeer food.”
Hope smiled. Chris had noticed. He’d remembered. He hadn’t forgotten. She was important to him.
Brady opened the back door. “He wouldn’t even let me eat any star cookies.”
“Wait, where are you going?”
“To the store,” he said. “Beth will be in around noon. But don’t think I’m not still mad at you for not telling Chris sooner.”
“What about me?” she asked. “What time do I need to be at the store?”
“Take a day. One of us should have a perfect Christmas too, don’t you think?” He let the door slam behind him.
Chris had come to check on her. Chris wanted her to have a special Christmas with a tree done right and the cookies she loved and reindeer food just the way she liked it. Chris respected her lists and her plans and…he shouldn’t have. He should have fought for her as he wanted the Stones to fight for their marriage. Instead, he’d let her do what she wanted. What he thought would make her happy. But she wouldn’t be happy without Chris by her side.
Hope called for Joel, shoved one of the reindeer jars in her purse and h
urried to her car. She had a few items to pick up before she made one final delivery.
Less than an hour later, Hope drove down a long driveway which was more of a one-lane gravel road. She pulled up to a ranch-style house without Christmas decorations. Not even a thin string of lights hung around the front door. It must be the only house in Christmas Town not decorated.
Hope handed Joel a bag and instructions not to tip it over. She stuck a thermos under arm and prepared for the most important home delivery of her week.
Joel rang the doorbell and Hope swayed from boot to boot, praying she wasn’t too late. She’d wished on several star cookies during the drive from town. The crumbs still clung to her scarf as proof. At her nod, Joel pressed the doorbell again.
Several minutes later, the door swung open and Chris filled the doorway. His well-worn jeans and much loved sweatshirt made Hope want to step into his embrace and take all the comfort he offered. But his impassive expression held her in place.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the door jam.
“I called the station,” she said. The thermos slipped under arm. She used her bandaged hand to stop the thermos from dropping onto the porch. “The operator said you were at home.”
He frowned at her bandaged hand before glancing at Joel. “What are you hiding behind your back?”
“A secret.” Joel pressed his finger against his lips.
“A good secret?” Chris asked.
Joel nodded and spoke in a loud whisper around his finger. “Pie likes me.”
Chris couldn’t hide the small tilt of his grin. Hope gave silent thanks for their too-cute-to resist son.
Something lighter swirled through his green gaze when he looked at Hope.
“I have a thermos. Joel has pie.” She motioned to her rental car with her bandaged hand. “And Christmas might have exploded inside the back of the car.”
“Might have?” he asked.
A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances Page 54