At six, Philip opened his eyes to find Nila and Nason at his bedside, peering at him.
Clare is gone, and the kids are here.
But the loss didn’t hit as hard as the night before, not with the kids standing close, hope welling in their eyes. Their hope wasn’t for his attention. They wanted presents. Nonetheless, they aimed their hope at him because he was the one who’d provide for them now.
He had a pile of presents waiting for them, and beyond today, he would find a way to meet their other needs too. He would come up with the plan his dad advised him to make.
“Can we go now?” Nason asked.
Nila tugged the hand he’d rested on the covers. “Grandpa said when you wake up, you’ll take us to our presents.”
They would open their gifts at the new house, an hour and a half from here. He focused on the clock again. Beside it on the bedside table lay the locket.
He stretched to reach it and motioned his daughter closer. “Look what we found.”
As her gaze found the necklace, she sucked a breath through her teeth and danced with glee.
She watched him open the clasp, then pivoted and pressed the pendant to her chest as he fastened the chain. Finished, he brushed her hair out from under the sterling silver.
“Beautiful,” he said.
She opened the heart-shaped locket and looked inside. “Like Mom?”
“Just like your mother.”
Nason edged in. “Do I get something too?”
“You both get piles of presents.” He mussed his son’s hair, though it looked like he’d already met with a brush this morning. “Go wait with Grandma and Grandpa. I’ll be ready in a minute.”
Aware they’d get less and less patient, he hurried to join them, and they left the cabin before six thirty without seeing any of the others. By eight, he’d parked in the driveway of a house that could star in a Christmas painting, thanks to the sunshine, the blanket of snow, and the evergreen wreath on the door. He unlocked the door and pointed the kids toward the living room.
They ran ahead while Philip and his parents glanced into the rooms along the way. Movers had relocated his belongings and unpacked. An interior designer had also been at work, choosing furnishings to fill out the space. The result was trendy and modern without tipping over the line where the kids would have to worry about breaking things every time they turned around.
After Christmas, Dad and Joan would pack up the kids’ belongings and move them here. When the tour ended, all Philip would have to do was come home to them. And figure out how to do life with a pair of kids he didn’t really know who needed care he couldn’t provide.
But he’d learn. Clare was gone, and he needed to step up.
They entered the broad, light-soaked living room. A tree, fully decked out, stood before tall windows that looked out over the snowy yard. Philip plugged in the lights and hurried to snap a picture of the kids staring at the piles of wrapped gifts—the moment of awe wouldn’t last long.
“It’s beautiful,” Joan breathed.
Nila turned toward him, a gift in her hands, a plea on her face. Nason crouched to claim a present for himself. Philip took another picture, gave Nila the go-ahead to open the box she held, and helped Nason locate one of his.
A sense of control he hadn’t felt since being reunited with the kids grew each time their faces lit up at their gifts. He’d consulted Dad and Joan, but Philip had been the one to approve what his assistant bought and wrapped. The result was sheer delight on the kids’ faces.
This was the solution, as evidenced by the fully furnished home around them and the joy in Nason’s and Nila’s squeals. Thanks to Awestruck, he could hire out what he couldn’t do himself.
Nila bumped into his knee, a small box in her hand. “This is for you, Daddy.”
“You got me something?”
“Oh!” Nason popped up from the robot he’d just unwrapped and scampered to Joan.
She presented him with a thin gift-wrapped item about the size of a sheet of paper, which the boy carried to Philip. Nason stood ramrod straight, waiting with the packet in his hands as Philip loosened the paper on the box Nila had given him. Inside a jewelry box, on a bed of cotton, lay a polymer clay guitar.
“Just like yours,” Nila said.
“Thank you. You made this for me?”
She nodded, and he pulled her into a hug. It actually looked like a bass guitar. She was growing up. In no time, she’d be an adult. He just needed to do his job and set her loose. He kissed the top of her head and released her to the last of her own presents, then accepted Nason’s offering.
Since it felt like the gift was paper, he removed the wrapping carefully. Sure enough, the wrapping covered a manila folder. He hefted Nason onto his lap. His son had drawn a gray house—the same color as the house they sat in now—and three stick figures with big, smiling faces.
“That’s you.” Nason pointed to the biggest of the three, the one wearing what Philip guessed was a guitar. Next, he tapped his finger on the pink figure, and the one hanging like a monkey from the branches of a tree. “Nila, and me.”
The curved lines representing each of their smiles reached from eye to eye.
“We look very happy,” Philip said. “Do you think we’re going to be, just the three of us?”
Nason giggled and nodded.
Philip hugged him to his chest and kissed his head as he had Nila’s. “I think we’ll be happy too.”
Gannon had never made such a pretty coffee. He held a mug of plain earl grey tea in his left hand and a mug of chocolate mocha with a swirl of whipped cream and a dusting of red sugar crystals in his right. A drink fit for his girlfriend on Christmas Day.
When he’d woken that morning, she’d already seen Tegan off, headed back to Lakeshore to spend Christmas with her fiancé. Soon, Gannon and Adeline would leave for their hometown. John would ride with them, since all of their families lived there and he no longer had Nicole to share the drive with.
Tomorrow morning, Awestruck would reconvene, and he’d leave Adeline to finish out the tour. She’d spend a week with her parents, and they’d drive her home again while Gannon rang in the new year with thousands of strangers.
Fans. Fans he was grateful for.
But even with the end of the tour in sight, just a couple of weeks into January, he’d never wanted to cancel shows as much as he did right now.
Instead, he’d make the most of the time he had. Tim was sleeping, and John had ventured out with the dogs, while Adeline waited for Gannon on the couch closest to the decorated tree. Thousands of tiny white lights lit the branches, but their glow couldn’t compete with the golden morning sun slanting through the room.
Adeline, in her cozy sweater with a plaid blanket drawn across her lap, and Bruce lounging nearby, looked perfect here, and regret that this wasn’t their life—not permanently, anyway—pulled him toward her, to be as close as possible for as long as possible.
She accepted the coffee and a kiss that didn’t last nearly long enough. He sat beside her as she slid the mug onto the table without sipping his creation. She grasped a small gift box and fidgeted. Nervous?
“You know whatever it is, I’ll love it.”
Her fleeting smile said she wasn’t so sure. “You bought me three basses and whatever you saved for this morning. This does not compete.”
“It’s not a competition.” He slipped a lock of her hair behind her ear and couldn’t resist letting his fingers run through the silky strands as he pulled his hand away. “I would never see you or anything you gave me as less-than.”
“I know.” She smoothed her hand over the black-and-gold gift wrap. “It’s only that we haven’t had a lot of chances this year to show each other … It seems like I haven’t had enough chances to show you what you mean to me, and some chances I had, I let little things make me angry instead of enjoying our time together.”
Oh no. Were those tears? He took her hand.
Her glance was fleeting. “It’s just really hard to say goodbye all the time.”
The separations killed him too. He touched her jaw and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.
“Maybe this will help.” He rose to take his gift for her from under the tree, and a pang in his gut evened the playing field. Maybe he was nervous too.
As soon as he sat back down, Adeline handed him the gift she’d held. He followed suit, but she inclined her head, eyes on the present she’d given him.
So much for ladies first. He ran his finger under the seam of the gift wrap. Inside was a box, and inside that, a leather-bound notebook the size of a novel.
“This way, you can stop writing lyrics in the same spiral notebooks you used in high school.”
“So you noticed the math notes in the one I let you keep.”
Her smile lit her eyes the way the sun lit the room.
He’d given her that notebook, one dedicated to lyrics he’d written about her, about a year and a half ago. Since then, he’d taken to writing on whatever scraps were available. He’d typed some lyrics on his phone too, but it was long past time for a new designated place for his work. He ran his hand over the cover and flipped through the pages.
Inside the flap, she’d written: To Gannon from Adeline with love.
She’d ended the simple inscription with the date.
She leaned closer, as if to reread it. “You’re the writer, not me.”
“It’s perfect.” He savored another kiss before settling the book on his lap and motioning for her to open the gift he’d picked up in Chicago. Those poor little tree seeds had a lot riding on them, given he hoped they’d help comfort her in the face of their next parting, now one day away.
She freed the gift from the decorative bag and pulled away the tissue paper. Her eyebrows came down with focus, and then a smile lit her features. “A spruce tree growing kit?”
He took one of her hands. “You didn’t always get my best this year. And I didn’t get to see you nearly as much as I would’ve liked, but the tour ends in January, and next year will be better. We’ll see each other almost every day, and by the time the next tour comes around, I really hope you’ll be my wife.”
She quietly nodded and squeezed his hand, and relief lifted some of his worry.
At least she wasn’t hedging because of their rough patch—or veering the opposite direction and asking why he wasn’t proposing right now.
Marriage could only serve as part of the solution. The other part demanded they find a way to handle his travel that worked for both of them. If he had his way, he would’ve taken her along this year, set up a seat for her in the wings of all his shows, made sure she always had the room next to his.
Which might’ve led to poor choices.
But next time …
“If we’re married,” he said, “we won’t have to say good night, let alone goodbye.”
Her cheeks flushed at the implications. She lifted the gift. “What does all this have to do with spruce trees?”
“In April, when you showed me that tree you planted in your front yard, you said you were putting down roots. Remember that?”
“I regretted it as soon as I said it. I was afraid putting down roots here would mean you and I would be apart.”
“But I’m moving here, so it doesn’t. From now on, I’d like us to find a way to put down roots together. You can start this tree in its pot. Then, when you and I do get married, we can plant it by our front door.”
Adeline turned the pot so the growing directions faced her. “I like that plan.” She glanced at him, then studied the packaging a little longer.
“What?”
“I checked online for remote job openings so I could travel more but didn’t see anything.” She ran her finger along a ridge of the tin the spruce seeds came in. “Then yesterday, right before dinner, Nila told me her mom used to love ‘Amazing Grace,’ so we played it together. Philip heard and said something about how much comfort she’d found in the song, and it got me thinking about how much music has meant to me.” Finally, she peeled her gaze away from the gift. A passion he hadn’t seen in months lit her eyes. “To us.”
He nodded and resisted pulling her in for another kiss so he could hear the idea that had her this excited.
“Everybody who wants should have a chance at that. Hurting kids, especially.”
Patience expiring as he caught her meaning, he wrapped an arm around her and settled her against him. “You want to do something about it.”
“Not all families can afford music lessons. Even taking band or orchestra through a school can be expensive. But if I’m traveling with you more, I wouldn’t be here to teach all the time. So I was thinking I could spend this year getting a non-profit up and running to provide music lessons to kids who might not get them otherwise. Even when we’re traveling, I’d have a role with it—something so I would have meaningful work—but I’d hire someone else to run the day-to-day so details wouldn’t tie me down away from you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I know someone who’d fund a place like that.”
“You think I should go for it? I can fundraise. The bill doesn’t have to fall to you.”
Gannon laughed. “If this is how we get to spend more time together, that’ll be the best funded music studio around.”
She tilted her head and glanced up at him. “You say that like you missed me.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear, leaning closer to the smile playing on her lips. “You say that like you’re surprised.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Haven’t I convinced you I love you yet?”
Amusement flickered, rounding her cheeks. The warmth in her eyes contradicted the shake of her head. She knew he loved her, and she was so secure in that, she’d tease him.
He’d have it no other way.
He rested his forehead against hers. “I drove all night through a blizzard to get here. I had three upright basses delivered and waiting. I gave a great speech about putting down roots. What more will it take?”
She brushed the tip of her nose against his. “How about a kiss?”
He obliged as if he could prove his love that way, but as much as having her in his arms meant to him, as much as he lost himself in the feel of her lips on his, a kiss would never prove his dedication to her, just like no gift he could’ve gotten her would have.
But that was okay. He didn’t need to put all of his dedication in a gift or a kiss when he had the rest of his life to prove how serious he was about loving her well.
John rearranged the luggage and gifts in the back of the SUV. Since he, Gannon, Adeline, and all three dogs would all be riding home to Fox Valley together, they needed most of the seats clear. Once all the baggage fit, he went in for the dogs.
“All set?” Adeline pressed the lid on a travel mug and extended it to him.
Tim sat at the dining table, reading on a tablet and sipping coffee. “See you guys tomorrow.”
“You sure you don’t want to come with?” Gannon shrugged into his coat.
“Positive. I’m looking forward to a day all to myself.” Tim took another draw from his coffee cup. “I’ve had enough of you guys.”
If he’d spoken with any more cheer in his voice, Adeline probably would’ve gotten offended on their behalf, but John understood where it was coming from. Touring meant a lot of time in close quarters. If not for the major holiday, John wouldn’t mind finding a few blissful hours of silence alone in a cabin in the middle of nowhere for himself.
Today, Tim was the lucky one.
John led his dogs outside and started hooking them into safety harnesses that would keep them in the back row. Meanwhile, Adeline settled Bruce where he could lay on the floor in the middle, then she and Gannon took places in front.
“So, this coat was a gift to her?”
John glanced over his shoulder to see Adeline twisted in her seat, the jacket he’d given Nicole in her hands. Gannon must’ve told her, because the question sounded rhetorical.
John would rather not make a bigger deal of the breakup than it already was, but the more closely she looked at the coat, the bigger of a deal it would be. Maybe if he acted as if she wasn’t close to a discovery, she’d lose interest.
He refocused on clasping the harness across Camo’s chest. When he finished with the dogs and settled into his own seat behind Adeline, she still held the coat, and now Gannon watched him in the rearview mirror. Even Bruce, lounging on the floor next to him, seemed concerned for him.
John leaned and saw the glitter of diamonds in Adeline’s hands.
So they’d found the earrings Nicole hadn’t taken the time to discover. He slid the coat from Adeline’s grasp and held out his other hand.
She lay the earrings in his palm, curious brown eyes fixed on him. “Are you okay?”
“Mostly, I’m glad she didn’t bother to try it on.” If she had, she would’ve put her hands in the pockets and found the earrings. She would’ve recognized the jewelry as nicer than the bracelet and she might not’ve come clean.
Peering back at him, Adeline rested her cheek against the side of her seat. “I’m sorry it turned out this way.”
“Me too.”
But Nicole hadn’t been the one for him.
Compared with Philip’s grief over losing his wife—still raw after five years—what he and Nicole had wasn’t even a blip on the radar. John would hold out for the real thing.
Now if only Adeline would stop gazing at him with such pity.
He zipped the earrings back in the pocket and laid the coat on the seat next to him. “Like Gannon said, we shouldn’t lower our expectations when it comes to the people who matter.”
She raised an eyebrow at her boyfriend. “You said that?”
Gannon started the SUV with a shrug and a grin. “I say all kinds of insightful things.”
John settled in his seat and watched the cabin disappear behind the trees. Raising his expectations might mean holding out for someone who didn’t know about his money, at least not at first. He might have trouble finding that kind of anonymity in LA or while on tour, but in a rural section of a relatively quiet state?
It could happen.
The house he’d toured yesterday fit the plan.
He sent his real estate agent a text, asking her to put in an offer.
The quiet setting would be a refuge. That alone would justify the purchase, but the house also fit who he wanted to be and what he valued. He didn’t want notoriety and an impressive exterior as much as he wanted truth and authenticity. He wanted something that stood the test of time.
Given the complications—his money, the inevitable scars his experience with Nicole would leave—he might have more trouble finding those things in a relationship than he’d encountered finding a house, but he’d hold out for her.
Doubt snaked in. Did she exist?
Adeline turned the radio to Christmas tunes, reminding John what day it was.
Things hadn’t gone his way with Nicole, but what he’d thought even before leaving Chicago remained true.
If ever there was a time for hope, this was it.
For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given;
and the government shall be upon his shoulder,
and his name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Isaiah 9:6, ESV