Shana had spent so much time and energy trying to make Christmas special that when it finally came, it was a letdown. She’d built it up too much in her mind. She’d wanted to give her little girl a perfect day. She’d wanted to give Kincaid a Christmas worth remembering for once.
Instead, a pall hung over the day.
It’s good that you weren’t pregnant, he’d said last night. That would seem to be something that made him happy, yet he wasn’t. Oh, he was doing a good job of pretending. He handed out gifts, looked anxious for her reaction to them, but something was missing. He wasn’t relaxed. In fact, at times he seemed uncomfortable around her. Why? Everything was back to normal—wasn’t it?
She didn’t have an answer to that question, but even with all that going on, it was the best Christmas of Shana’s memory. Emma was all decked out in a white sweater, red tutu skirt, white tights and red sneakers, all gifts from Kincaid, who’d surprised mother and daughter with a mound of presents that took so long to open, Emma lost interest.
Shana hadn’t. Every box she unwrapped communicated something from him—the fact he paid attention whenever she’d wished out loud for a particular something, like a full-size mixer instead of the hand mixer, and a warmer, longer raincoat. He’d bought a stack of romantic comedy DVDs because that was what she always rented. And he presented her with her own rechargeable drill. What woman wouldn’t love a man who listened that well?
“What are you smiling about?” he asked as he shoved used wrapping paper into a bag.
“You.”
He raised his brows.
“Best Christmas ever, Kincaid.”
He nodded, looking way too serious. “Same here.”
She’d had a little trouble finding gifts for the man who had everything, but she’d finally been successful, starting with filling a stocking for him as well as Emma, his containing silly items like gum and oranges and a deck of cards, even batteries. He said he’d never had a stocking before, and the pleasure of watching him unwrap every item was her best gift. She’d found a sweater the same color blue as his eyes, and a new down vest for away from construction sites, where his old, well-used vest was still fine.
But the most fun she had was making a photo book of all his construction projects. She’d secretly worked at his computer, using before and after shots he’d taken to create a book she’d had printed online and shipped to her. It was something he could show clients, but also could just sit and look at and feel pride in what he’d done.
She could tell he loved it, and was totally surprised by her gift. She figured she could do a new one every few years…?.
“Kinky!”
“What, Miss Emma?”
“Come. Play.”
“Please,” Shana reminded her.
“Peese.”
While they stacked blocks, Shana made pancakes, using her new griddle. When Kincaid brought Emma into the kitchen, he put her in her high chair and found a large bib to cover her pretty Christmas sweater.
How quickly they’d all become a family. How would it affect Emma if it changed?
“Mmm,” Emma said as Shana put her plate in front of her. “Cake.”
“Pancakes, yes. And apples.”
“Mmm.” Kincaid did a perfect imitation as Shana set down their plates, making her smile. “What’s the plan for the day?” he asked.
“Well, there’s Aggie’s open house. I’d like to do that.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ve decided to go see my parents.”
He studied her but didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Gavin and Becca are hosting Christmas dinner. You’ll see them there.”
“I have cookies to take them. Mom has always loved the holiday, so I’m thinking I’ll catch her in a good mood. Maybe Dad, too. I want just a minute with them, without the rest of the family.”
“Would you like me to go with you?”
“Thank you for the offer, but it should just be Emma and me. We could stop in on our way to Aggie’s.”
“Done.”
Shana packaged the cookies to take to her parents and also some for Aggie. When she was done, she decided to put Emma down for a morning nap. She went in search of her and Kincaid. She hadn’t heard them for a while, so she figured they were in Emma’s room. But as Shana passed through the living room she saw them on the couch, Kincaid stretched out, asleep, with Emma in dreamland on his chest.
Swallowing hard, Shana moved closer, not wanting to disturb them. She took a picture in her mind and framed it there forever.
Will you marry me? she asked silently. She curled up in his chair to watch them, was still watching when he woke up a half hour later.
He saw her sitting there. “She’s heavier than she seems,” he said quietly.
Shana smiled. “You two have come a long way in a month.”
“So have we.”
“True.” And yet not far enough. “I need to go gird my loins,” she said, standing.
“You don’t have to do this today, Shana.”
“I want to.” She came closer to him. “Shall I take her?”
“She’s fine.”
It would’ve been the easiest thing in the world to just walk over and give each of them a kiss before she went upstairs. She didn’t know how much longer she could hold back everything she felt inside.
An hour later they were on the road. They pulled up in front of her parents’ house.
She got out of the truck and opened the back door to grab her box of cookies as Kincaid got Emma from her car seat.
“We won’t be long,” Shana said to him.
“I’ll be right here.”
She nodded. It was nice having a partner.
She went to the front door and knocked. Her mother opened it. “Shana. Why— Malcolm. Shana’s here.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom.”
“Come in. Hello, Emma.”
Emma smiled shyly, her finger in her mouth.
“Some cookies for you and Dad,” Shana said, handing her mother the decorated box. The living room was cozy, the fireplace lit. A tree was up and decorated, a few gifts under it.
“Have you talked to Dixie or Gavin today?” her mother asked.
“I talked to Gavin, but Dixie was still asleep, Joe said. How are you, Dad? Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.”
“We have a gift for Emma,” her mother said. “I’d planned to take it to Gavin’s.”
“That’s fine. She can wait. It’ll be fun for her.”
Silence descended. They all stood in the middle of the room, not looking at each other, but not as uncomfortable as other times. “Well, I guess we should be going.”
“I suppose you’re headed to Aggie’s,” her mother said.
“For a little while, yes. Are you going?” The invitation was open—the more, the merrier, Aggie always said.
“We thought we’d just stay home by the fire until we go to Gavin’s.”
“It’s always fun, Mom. There’ll be lots of people you know.” She headed toward the door. “It’s really casual. You wouldn’t have to stay long.”
“It’s not something I care to do,” her mother said.
“Okay.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “We’ll see you—”
“Why can’t you see how much you hurt your mother by always being with Aggie?” her father said.
Shana was so startled at the number of words he’d said, she almost didn’t comprehend them. “What? Wait, what are you talking about?”
“Malcolm, please.”
“Hush, Bea. This needs saying.”
“Not on Christmas.”
“Why not? We’ve been silent long enough.”
Dread rooted Shana in place. “Go ahead. Tell me.” If it cleared the air so that they could get beyond their past, she was all for it.
“Ever since you came home,” her father said, “you’ve treated Aggie more like your mother than your own. It’s hurtful. I know it was easier for you because there’s no history there. It’s all fun and games with Aggie. Everyone loves Aggie the perfect.”
That anyone should slam Aggie, who’d been her savior this past year, was beyond Shana’s comprehension. She kept her voice as level as possible, but she was angry. “Aggie opened her arms to me. You shut your door in my face. I wanted to reach out, to repair our relationship. I know I made mistakes, big ones, but I’ve finally learned to forgive myself for them.”
And she had, she realized. Thanks to Kincaid.
She walked back to her mother. “I love you, Mom.” She kissed her cheek and gave her a hug, Emma squirming in her arms. Then she went to her father. “I love you, Dad.” He stood with his hands loosely at his sides, but he allowed the hug.
She went to the door, adding, “My heart is open to you, but you have to reach out, too. Merry Christmas.”
I forgive you. She didn’t say the words out loud, but it was enough.
“Wait, Shana. Please wait,” her mother said. She glanced at her husband. “I’d like to be closer,” her mother said, her voice quaking. “I’d like us to be like…other families. Please, Malcolm. We’re not getting any younger.”
After a few long, harrowing seconds, he nodded.
The burning coals in Shana’s stomach cooled a little. She unclenched her fists. “We’ll see you at Gavin’s,” she said, then she left, sensing they needed a little time and space right now. She did, too. It was a lot to take in at once.
She passed Emma to Kincaid, then managed to get herself into the car, weak knees and all. “Just drive. Please.”
“Was it that bad?” Kincaid asked after a minute.
“No.” Tears pushed at her eyes. “Actually, there’s hope.”
He reached across to squeeze her hand. She squeezed back. “I forgave myself for all I did to cause them pain,” she whispered. “And I forgave them, too.”
“Good.”
“I’m moving on. Moving forward.” She felt stronger now, as if she could do anything. “Thank you,” she said. “You were right.”
They drove to Aggie’s. So far, only a small mob had gathered, but it was also a daylong event. People would come and go. Kincaid had never gone before, even though he’d been invited forever. Everyone greeted him like an old friend. He wasn’t even anxious to escape.
He watched Shana move through the crowd, saw Dylan talking with two kids his age. Dylan waved at Kincaid, then pointed to his feet to show he was wearing the new boots Kincaid had given him for Christmas. The boy had found a home here, a community of his own.
Kincaid went out to the backyard and joined the men standing around the tall propane heaters. Doc, Aggie’s sons Jake and Donovan, and a couple of sons-in-law were watching the kids play in the yard and on the swings. Kincaid greeted everyone, felt their welcome in return. Felt that he fit in.
The talk was of football, a subject near and dear to his heart. A few of the women wandered out, including Shana, who took Emma to a swing and settled her in it. Shana seemed more relaxed, but that could be because she was at Aggie’s. No one could be tense in her house.
“That little Emma’s a cutie,” said the man standing next to Kincaid. He was one of Aggie’s five sons-in-law, and Kincaid’s accountant.
“And a whirlwind. But then, you know what that’s like, Steve. You’ve got a few of your own.”
“All grown up now. No longer tax deductions. I miss those days.” He sighed dramatically. “Maybe Emma will be your tax deduction by next year.”
The statement didn’t go unnoticed, although he could tell Shana was pretending not to have heard it.
“Which reminds me,” Steve said. “Is there a reason why you haven’t turned in any of your December receipts? You’re usually on top of these things. Cher and I decided to get away for a couple of weeks before tax season hits in full force, and I know you like to file as early as possible. Everything else is done. It won’t take much time at all.”
Kincaid’s gaze connected with Shana’s. Had she understood what Steve meant? Did she realize Kincaid had given her busywork when he’d asked her to enter his “unorganized mess” into a spreadsheet? He couldn’t tell from her expression if she got it or not, because she turned her back on him and focused on Emma.
The pleasure of the day seeped out. For all that they’d talked about the importance of honesty, they’d told lies or kept secrets. Maybe he should just tell her the truth about why he’d hired her, get it out there, let them deal with it rather than having it hanging over his head.
He’d disappointed Dixie, too, and now she was angry at him. Then there was Aggie, who’d made the call to Dixie.
Yeah, he needed to talk to Dixie and figure out how to handle the situation. Shana deserved the truth—and a clean slate. If they had to start over, they would. She had already become important to his business, had proven herself competent in many ways. He didn’t regret hiring her.
He did regret how he’d handled everything else.
Shana came up to him then, carrying Emma. “We’re going to walk to Dixie’s and pick up my car.”
“You’re ready to leave?”
“Yes.” Her voice was cold as ice.
“I’ll drive you.”
“It’s a few blocks. The walk will do me good. Clear my head, you know?” She said a marginally cheerful goodbye to everyone then disappeared into the house.
Should he follow her? Catch up? Explain? It should be a private discussion, not one open to the citizens of Chance City. Should he just go home and wait for her? Try to talk to her at Joe and Dixie’s?
He was in a quandary like never before. He could stumble no matter what he did, because she was unpredictable, something he usually liked about her.
In the end, he hung around for about fifteen minutes then headed home to wait, feeling like a dead man walking.