A Christmas to Remember (14 page)

“We have come a long way to see you, Adam,” Joyce said. “I would appreciate it if you would eat supper with us at least.”

“I told you not to come before the twenty-first. I’m not trying to be rude, I just don’t have the time…”

“I know that’s what you told us.” She walked closer, looking up at him to make eye contact. “I just thought you may feel differently once we were all here.”

Carrie took a step back, leaving the two of them still facing each other, their expressions set, their eyes on one another like some sort of standoff. Carrie was glad that Joyce was finally bringing to light all the thoughts Carrie herself had had regarding his absence.

“Do you think I can just
not
work?” he said. “That it’s something I can put down any time that I choose? There’s no one else to run the brewery but me. I can barely take the four days off that I have. Do you know how busy this time of year is?”

“You don’t
want
to stop working. The brewery has been very successful for you, and you love the success, even more than your family. That’s what I think.”

Carrie saw irritation on Adam’s face, near anger. “What do you know, Mom?” he snapped, but then he shrunk back, realizing the tone he’d just displayed. Carrie’s family had similar values to Adam’s, and the one golden rule in her household was never to talk back to one’s mother—it was a show of the very worst manners. It was clear by the way he recoiled that the rule was engrained in Adam as well. So for him to go against his mannerly inclination and say such a thing showed that Joyce had hit a nerve.

“What do
I
know?” Joyce’s head was turned to the side, her eyes clapped on him, steadfast. “I know that your marriage was a disaster. I know that you have no relationship with your own children. I know that you can’t relate to any of us anymore because the only people you ever socialize with are from work. We all represent your failures—your marriage was a mess and you got hurt unbelievably in the process; your connection with your children is a failure because you work so much you don’t know how to relate to them; and your relationship with your family has failed—I think that’s why you threw yourself into your work; you barely spend time with any of us. Especially Sharon.” Joyce blinked to clear tears that were forming. More softly, she said, “I know you’re great at work and I’m proud of you for what you’ve achieved. I know how much you like to be successful at things. But you have to try to be better with everything else, including the things that don’t come as easily for you.”

“You don’t understand,” he said, his face like stone. Carrie had never seen him so closed off before. What his mother had just said had bothered him, she could tell, and this ruthless, stubborn Adam was quite intimidating, a stark contrast to the gentle person she’d seen. “I have worked my entire life for what I have right now,” he said, his voice now more controlled. “I’m not going to give this up. I’ve worked too hard for it, and—that’s right—It’s what I love to do.”

“Do you love it enough to sacrifice your family?” a quiet voice said from the doorway. Sharon was standing with her arms folded, her face tired and blank. She looked as though she were too tired to emote.

Unease was swimming around inside Carrie as she stood witness to this family and its issues. She felt terrible for being there. Clearly there was something going on, and she shouldn’t be a part of it, but the door to the hallway was across the room and she wouldn’t be able to inch her way over to it without everyone noticing. She was pinned in the corner of the kitchen, her heart drumming with anxiety from the disagreement. They were all saying what she knew to be true about Adam, and he was getting upset. There was a tiny part of her who wanted to walk over to him, tell him it would be okay, and that she would love to help him figure it all out. She’d seen how lovely he could be with the kids if he’d just give himself enough time to bond with them. His family would certainly embrace him—she’d seen it when they’d arrived. It could be fixed if he’d just try. But there was another part of her that was thinking,
How dare you treat your mom like this and make her and your family seem so unimportant to you!
Her contradictory emotions confused her, made her head swim.

“I’m not sacrificing anything,” he said through clenched teeth. “This is the way it is. Gwen has the kids most of the time, and when they’re here, I make as much time as I can for them, but in the end, I’m the sole breadwinner, and I don’t see any other way to look at it. They are provided for, cared for, and safe.”

“But they aren’t loved,” Sharon said. She had that look in her eyes like she’d had earlier—daggers.

“How dare you insinuate that I don’t love my kids.”

“You show them every day how much you don’t love them. Some of us would do
anything
to have those kids. Anything,” her voice broke as she said the word. The way she’d ended that statement, Carrie thought Sharon may have had something else to say, but, clearly, her emotions had gotten in the way. Once she’d centered herself, she asked quietly, “Why didn’t you fight Gwen to have the kids more? They’re your kids too, Adam.”

“Never mind,” Adam said, turning away from them. “I’m not hungry anymore.” He left the room, never answering Sharon, and Carrie stood there just like the others: mentally trying to pick up the pieces that had shattered tonight.

I
dentify what triggers
your stress and eliminate it.
Carrie thought how this suggestion had no relevance at all. The tension in the air was so thick she could almost see it, and there was no way to get rid of it.

Walter, who had been sitting silently during the argument, stood up and dragged his fingers across the table, piling his cards into the center. He picked them up, tapped the pile until it resembled a deck again, and put the cards back into their box. As he did so, he nodded toward the seat beside him, his gaze on Sharon. Her face was flushed, her eyes on the brink of tears again, but this time, instead of running out of the room, she sat down beside Walter and put her head on his shoulder. With his hand, unsteady from age, he patted her arm.

“He doesn’t get it,” she said, her tears revealing her pain. The tears came easily, like they’d been waiting there to be released, as if she had stored them up over the years and now, just being around Adam could make them surface from that deep place where she’d pushed them down. She’d looked thin to Carrie before, but only now did she notice the darkness under her eyes and the way she carried her body as if every movement required more energy than she had.

Carrie knew that she couldn’t dare ask the family what Sharon was battling, but she wondered if she needed to know at all. The point was that Adam’s sister felt that he wasn’t showing love to his children, and she thought it too. She didn’t need to know the family drama, but she did want to find out what Adam thought of it. She wanted to check on him anyway after his exit, to be sure he was okay. The whole thing made her feel anxious and upset, and seeing Adam could either worsen that or ease it—she wasn’t sure. She didn’t know what mood he’d be in if she tried to talk to him right now, but something made her want to go. She was a neutral party, so perhaps he’d open up. Would he listen to her? Could she be his voice of reason? She decided to try.

“I’ll be back,” she said, but she looked right at Joyce, hoping his mother could read her mind. Adam’s mother took a long look at her, her eyes unstill with thought. Then, Joyce nodded, and Carrie knew she understood. She left the kitchen and headed to the office.

The door was cracked open when she got there, and she could see Adam, his elbows on his desk, his hands on his forehead like someone does when they shield the light from their eyes. He was reading something. He slid his fingers down his cheeks and rubbed his face.
How can he enjoy something so much that exhausts him like it does?
she wondered. She pushed the door open and he looked up, his face pink from rubbing it.

“Hi,” she said, standing in the doorway.

“Hi,” he returned. The friendliness that was usually behind his eyes and the grin that hid around the edges of his lips were both absent. He watched her enter the room, following her with his eyes only, a cautious look on his face. It was the kind of look that made her want to wave a little white flag in surrender and say
I come in peace
. Regardless of his actions, for him, it was a normal night, and he’d been blindsided. Carrie knew enough about human behavior to realize that it couldn’t be altered in one day. Change takes time.

There had been many instances already where she’d gotten involved in areas of the Fletchers’ life that were not her concern, and this was yet another. She knew she shouldn’t be in his office trying to do anything at all—she should be in her room—but there was something inside her that felt like she could make it better. She didn’t know how, she just felt it.

“I was just checking on you,” she said, using all her energy to make the words come out softly. She was angry and annoyed and worried all at the same time. He was an adult; he should see what he was doing, but he either didn’t see it or he didn’t
want
to see it. She was frustrated because she knew this was a problem that he’d created by choosing to work so much, and, being the planner and problem solver that she was nearly certain he was, he should be able to fix it. Instead, he was being selfish by working so much, and his family was suffering. Yelling at him, however, wouldn’t make things any better. It would just make him angry, and he’d probably close up more than he already had. She watched his shoulders relax and his chest rose with a quiet breath. “If you want some supper, I’d be happy to bring you some.” Then, in a whisper, she said, “I can sneak it up. They’ll never know.”

Against his will, a smile emerged. He tried to straighten it out. When he looked up at her again, the friendliness had returned to his face. She’d managed to make him feel like she was on his side, and it made a happiness bubble up like she hadn’t felt since she was a kid. She knew it was ridiculous, but she felt a little like they were a team and they could do anything together. It made no sense. She barely knew him, she had no idea of the depth of his family drama, and he would never be with someone like her, but when he looked at her, it was as if none of that were true. He was certainly charming when he wanted to be.

“Look,” she sat down on the chair opposite his desk. “I’m not here to get involved in your family’s matters. I don’t want to do anything except make sure you’re okay and that you’ve eaten.” She remembered how her mother had always said that in the south, food equals love, and she had a pinch of fear that he could see through her concern, and her little crush on him would be as clear as day. Without warning, she could feel the heat from the splotches that spread across her chest when she got nervous. She didn’t want to look down to confirm it, but she knew they were there.

“I’d love some supper, actually,” he said, leaning on his fist, his elbow propped on the desk. The way the lamplight hit his face, she could see how tired he was.

She nodded, not wanting to talk for fear that her words would come out a jumbled mess, like her thoughts. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, as annoyed as he made her sometimes, she was completely falling for him and she felt very protective of him. While his family’s concerns were quite valid, she was nearly sure that he felt they’d ganged up on him. Her feelings for him made no sense—she’d told herself that over and over. He was her boss! He lived a state away from her. He wasn’t even the kind of person she knew she’d want to be with—he was never home, he ate by himself, he didn’t know how to relate to children. He pawned off major emotional moments on others, not even wanting to buy his children their Christmas presents! On paper, everything was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself from feeling something for him.

“I can bring you some supper in your office,” she finally said. “Want some company?” She knew Joyce and the others would understand and not take her gesture as rudeness. She was almost certain that they would want her to try and talk to Adam as much as she wanted to talk to him.

“I can’t deal with my family’s issues right now. I just want to eat and do my work.”

“I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to eat alone. They’ll probably all be finished downstairs by the time I make a plate.” She knew it was a feeble excuse. He knew his family better than she did, and they would all stay with her at the table while she ate, she was sure of it. She also knew that by putting him in this position, it would be blatantly rude of him to leave a lady to eat alone in his own house, and he’d be forced to say yes.

He looked at her for a long time without saying anything. There was a grudging surrender in his eyes and he finally nodded. Barely. It was good enough for Carrie.

She smiled, trying to maintain the businesslike demeanor she knew she should have, but her insides were exploding with happiness. “Be right back.” As she left the room, her back to him, she finally let the big, silly grin emerge on her face, and went down to make them two plates.

When she got to the kitchen, the whole family was around the table. They all stopped when she entered like a jury waiting for a verdict. She felt the heat of more splotches and broke eye contact. “I’m just going to make Adam a plate,” she said with a little smile. Worry crept up in her as she wondered if they’d hoped she could get him to come downstairs. How could they expect her to work miracles? She felt the pressure, nonetheless.

“You eat first,” Joyce said.

“He doesn’t want to come down. I’m eating with him in the office.” Carrie looked over at the table for their reaction. She knew that she shouldn’t be eating with him; she was hired to watch his children. She worried that they would all think she was meddling in their business, taking sides. She gave Joyce a loaded look as if to say,
I’m trying to help
. Then, it hit her: What if she couldn’t help? What if the only reason he’d agreed was to talk to her about her involvement with the family? Would he tell her not to eat supper with them anymore? Or worse yet, not to meddle? She’d been so excited about his agreement that it hadn’t occurred to her that he may be upset with her. She felt her stomach turn to cement. Once again, she’d been naïve. Why would he want to have supper with the nanny anyway? What a ridiculous idea—how could she have thought that he’d want to spend time with her?

Joyce didn’t say anything. She just got up and pulled two plates from the cabinet. “I’ll help you make your suppers,” she said, moving quickly as if she couldn’t wait to get their plates made. She had a sort of electric energy—like excitement, which surprised Carrie. “If he won’t eat with his family, I’m glad he’ll eat with you.”

You’d better not get too excited
, she wanted to tell her. Joyce seemed overjoyed at the idea that Carrie was eating with Adam, but there was a real possibility that he was going to tell her to butt out, and then he’d be eating by himself in the office for the foreseeable future if he wanted.

Once the plates were made, Carrie wedged two half-full cups of tea between her arms and her body, and Joyce offered her the plates—one in each hand. Carefully, she made her way to the office. As she entered, Adam rushed over and relieved her aching arms.

“Sorry,” he said, setting their glasses on the desk and stacking his papers. “I didn’t think about you having to carry it all here.”

“It’s fine,” she said, still worried the time alone would let him have the moment he needed to scold her for her actions. She hoped that if he were going to reprimand her, he would just come out with whatever it was he wanted to tell her. If he didn’t want her there, fine. But sitting across from him and trying to eat when she knew something could be coming would give her heartburn. Why had she pressed him to eat with her? She didn’t want to make trouble for him. That was the last thing she wanted to do. She just wanted to make it all better. She wanted to make him see how lovely his children were, and how they might be able to make him happier even than his dream job. She wanted him to delight in finding that perfect present for each of them instead of passing it off to her like an insignificant chore. And she wondered again if he was going to go to his kids’ Christmas play or if he’d miss it like he’d missed supper.

When Carrie was twelve, she’d tried out for a solo in her Christmas pageant and she got it. She could still remember the wood grains of the floor on the stage and the black barrel lights above her, with blue and green bulbs shining in her eyes. She remembered the thick velvet curtain separating her from the quiet hum of the crowd. She took her spot at the microphone. It was a little too high for her, so she tipped it down, making a hollow pop register on the speakers. The curtains opened. In the darkness created by the spotlight, she could hear shifting in seats and gentle coughs in the crowd. That one moment when there was silence and blinding light, she wished that she could see her mother and father because the nerves were starting to eat at her, and she needed friendly faces to calm herself. The music started and she opened her mouth to sing, the first few notes coming out jagged like a lamb’s bleat. She cleared her throat and started to sing again, and as she did, she saw her mother’s face come into focus at the edge of the darkness, tears in her eyes, and a smile on her face, and Carrie sang. She sang so well. She sang for her parents. Would Adam’s children be looking for him in the darkness? And what would they feel when they couldn’t find him?

“You don’t mind eating in here?” he asked.

“Not at all or I wouldn’t have asked.” She scooted a chair over to the desk and sat down. Her plate was resting half on the surface and half on a legal pad, so she carefully pulled the paper out from under her supper and set it on the corner of the desk. The lamplight was soft, creating a cozy atmosphere, but it did make her wonder how he could get any work done with so little light. It was enough, though, to show off the blue of his eyes and the serious expression on his face.

“So,” he said, clearly trying to fill the silence. Carrie couldn’t help but be annoyed with herself. She’d been the one to press him to eat so that she could have a good chat with him about things, but she’d worried herself so much that she couldn’t get a word out. “Tell me about Olivia wanting me to take her ice skating. Did she really ask for
me
to take her?”

“Yes. She said she wanted you in particular. And Snow White,” she smiled.

“Snow White?”

Carrie nodded. “At this age, it’s perfectly feasible to Olivia for her daddy and Snow White to take her skating. And it’s important to make her feel like her requests are valid even when they aren’t because one day she’ll come to you with something serious. And if you listened to her as a child and took her seriously, she’ll trust you with the major stuff.”

He sat for a long time without talking, but Carrie could tell he was taking it all in. “It’s hard for me to figure out what they like, sometimes,” he admitted. “When my ex-wife, Gwen, and I divorced, honestly, I allowed her to have whatever she asked for, including custody of the kids, because I just wanted it all to be over quickly, with as little disruption as possible. Now, it’s…” His last word trailed off, a hush settling between them. His admission was so honest and so unexpected that Carrie let the quiet linger so that he could be alone with his thoughts.

Then, after a long while, when the silence was finally wearing out its welcome, he said, “You seem to be getting along well with my family. They treating you okay?”