Miss Kane's Christmas (8 page)

Once Hillary appeared to be cried out, Carol helped her back into bed. “Better?”

After she nodded, Carol asked, “What are you really worried about?”

Hillary bit her lip. “I want Daddy to be happy, I do. But Patrick and I really want Santa to come. And he won’t if Daddy keeps saying he doesn’t exist.”

“You can trust Santa to do the right thing.” She reached over and pushed a stand of hair away from Hillary’s eye. “Your father will come around.”

“How do you know that?”

Carol smiled. “Lots of fathers are like yours, it’s hard for them to relax and enjoy the magic of Christmas.”

“Was your father like that too?”

She shook her head. “No. My father loves Christmas more than anyone I know. But I’ve met other fathers who think like yours. But you know what, sweetie, it’s up to us to help him enjoy it. I think he just doesn’t know how.”

Hillary’s smile was one of relief. “I hope you’re right, Miss Kane.”

“I am.” And as frustrated with Ben as she was, Carol still felt compelled to defend him. “You know, your dad is pretty great in every other way, isn’t he?”

Hillary nodded. “I think so.” She yawned. “I’m so glad you’re here with us, Miss Kane.”

“I’m glad too.” She patted the girl’s hand and crossed to the door. She turned out the light switch. “Sweet dreams, honey.”

“Miss Kane?”

“Yes?”

“I love Daddy,” Hillary said, her voice now heavy with sleepiness.

“I know you do,” Carol said. There was a lot to love about Ben Hanson. She pressed her hand against her chest but it did little to relieve the ache there. “He’s a good man.”

“You’ll talk to Daddy? About Christmas?”

Carol didn’t hesitate to reassure her. “Yes, Hillary. I’ll do it right now.”

* * *

Ben’s arm ached, his head buzzed from a combination of too many sappy movies and two much sugar laden ice cream, and his jaw clenched every time he thought of the children’s excitement about the idea of a puppy. A puppy? Was there no end to the commotion that Carol caused in his house? In his mind? In his heart?

He groaned and leaned his head back against the sofa cushions. He draped his good arm across his forehead. Maybe if he shut his eyes and counted to ten he’d wake up to find the whole thing had been merely a dream. He closed his eyes and counted slowly before opening them again. No. His living room still looked like a close-out sale at a Christmas in July store. All that was missing from the chaos was a puppy. A shoe chewing, un-house broken, hyperactive ball of fur. He closed his eyes again.

“What the hell was Santa thinking?” he muttered aloud.

“So you admit he does exist? That’s progress.”

Ben started to stand but Carol sat down on the sofa next to him before he could get up. He glanced over, knowing he should avoid eye contact. Hell, any kind of contact. But he couldn’t resist. She was beautiful. And charming. And warm hearted. And intelligent. But most of all, she was trouble.

“The children are asleep,” she told him. “Now we need to get down to business.”

He shifted so that he was facing her. “If this is about the puppy, it’s going to be a short conversation.”

Her eyes flashed. A sure sign she was getting ready for battle, he thought. If he were smart he’d put a stop to this right now. He opened his mouth but she cut him off.

“Your daughter is afraid you’re going to ruin Christmas.” Carol raised an eyebrow expectantly and waited for him to speak.

His heart felt like it dropped twelve stories. “She said that?”

Carol nodded.

Ben couldn’t remember a time where he’d felt so miserable. He loved his children. Heaven knew he was floundering trying to parent them alone, but he loved them. And he was screwing up big time if they didn’t trust him not to ruin the holiday.

“After all you’ve been through these last few years I don’t entirely blame you-”

“Blame me?” he interrupted her. “Me? You’re the one who has turned Christmas into a nightmare.”

He watched as her eyes widened. He decided to take full advantage of her very uncharacteristic speechlessness. “Before you came here we were fine,” he continued. “The children had low, and I might add, realistic expectations of the holiday.” He held up a finger to forestall the torrent of Christmas rhetoric that she looked about to let loose. “So if anyone around here is in danger of ruining anything, it’s you.”

Ben waited for an explosion. But none came. Instead, Carol sat looking at him, her anger replaced with a look of…what was it? Frustration? Not exactly. Pity? God, he hoped not. Sadness? Whatever it was, she didn’t look happy and it was his fault.

He reached out. She moved back, not taking her eyes from his.

“Carol,” he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, “you have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“I do.” Her voice was quiet, steady. “I think I understand perfectly well.”

He frowned. “You do?”

She nodded. “I understand that you’re afraid to be happy. You’re afraid to let your children be happy in some misguided attempt to keep them from being hurt. And you’re taking it even further, writing your stupid book so that other parents will think they’re parenting responsibly by withholding joy from their children.” She shook her head. “All because you don’t want to get hurt again.”

He wanted to turn away from her. He needed to turn away from her if he was going to keep any shred of dignity or self-respect but he didn’t. He couldn’t. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?”

Her eyes searched his. He felt exposed in a way he never had before. No one had ever looked at him, truly seen him, the way that Carol now did. Vulnerable didn’t begin to describe how he felt.

“Ben, you’ve been hurt. First your late wife was going to move out, and then she got sick and passed away. I know.” Carol bit her lip and paused for a long moment. “But do you really think the answer is to teach Hillary and Patrick to stand on the sidelines of life so they won’t get hurt?”

He looked away.

“Look at me, Ben,” Carol said, and when he didn’t she placed her hand on his good arm.

He closed his eyes against the warmth of her touch. He didn’t want that warmth to reach his heart. Because when it was gone, when she was gone, he didn’t think he could bear the cold.

They sat, surrounded by deafening silence. Ben felt at war with himself, it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He knew what he wanted. Carol. Her enthusiasm, her charm, her kindness, her warmth…he wanted it all. But he knew if he let her into his life it would come at a price he didn’t want to pay when she decided to leave. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t experience true happiness only to have it taken away again.

He turned to face her. “I think it’s better if you go.”

She stared up at him for an agonizingly long moment before she nodded, understanding clear in her eyes. “I can get a flight out tomorrow night. After the party, but if that’s not soon enough I can-”

“That’s fine,” he interrupted her. “Hillary and Patrick will want you here for it.” The cursed, confounded party they’d told him about on the way home from the mall.

“You’re sure?”

Her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her.

“Of course, the house is big enough that we can manage. It’s only a few people over for cookies, right?”

She looked away.

“Carol?” He struggled to keep his voice level. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She took a deep breath. That couldn’t be a good sign.

“We’re going to have a house full of people, aren’t we?” he demanded.

She nodded.

Damn. All he wanted was to be alone in a dark house. No Christmas music, no strings of lights, no bell shaped cookies. And definitely no happy, cheerful people who wanted to make merry.

“The children are looking forward to this, Ben.”

“I know, I know.” He closed his eyes. He needed to do the right thing by his children, even if he was incapable of making a woman happy. “I’ll get through it.”

“I’m sorry.”

It tore at his heart to hear how contrite she sounded, especially when it was all his fault. He’d railed at her about the holiday ever since she’d arrived but she’d done nothing wrong except make his children extremely happy. The fact he’d fallen in love with her and now wanted nothing more than forever with her was on his head, not hers.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Carol. I just don’t…I just can’t…,” he let his voice trail off.

“You just don’t believe.”

“No, I don’t,” he conceded. “Not in any of it.”

He watched as Carol left the room, waiting until he heard her bedroom door close before he switched off the light and sat in the dark. No. He didn’t believe. Not in Christmas. And not in happy endings.

Chapter Nine

“Come on sleepyhead, wake up.”

In protest, Carol rolled over and refused to open her eyes. But that didn’t stop someone from shaking her, or from scolding her, for that matter.

“For the love of Santa,” the voice intoned, “get out of that bed. It’s the day before Christmas Eve and you are not spending it laying around feeling sorry for yourself.”

Ah, this was where the voice was completely wrong. Carol had every intention of feeling sorry for herself all day long. In fact, she had the ultimate pity party planned. And it was a party for one. “Go away.”

“You would do this to your father, Carol, this late in December?”

Carol groaned. Guilt always worked. Especially so near the red letter day. She sat up, hugged her pillow to her chest and frowned at Jolly. “Don’t you have things to do at the North Pole?”

The elf raised an eyebrow. “You know I do.” She pulled the blankets from the bed and motioned for Carol to get out of it. “Your father sent me.”

Carol stood barefoot on the cold wood floor and watched her friend make the bed. She and Jolly were fast friends, it was only two days before Christmas, and today was the Hanson’s big party. These were things that normally would have made her happy. Yet she felt strangely detached from it all.

Jolly pointed to the pillow Carol was still holding. “Plump that up and put it with the others,” she said. She waited until Carol did as she bid before speaking again. “Aren’t you going to ask me how things are at home?”

“Of course, I’m sorry. How are things at home?”

“Thoughtful of you to ask.” Jolly hoisted herself up to sit on the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. She pulled two candy canes from her pocket and offered one to Carol. When she refused, Jolly shook her head ruefully. “Wow, you must have it bad.”

Carol sat next to her. “I do.” She sighed. Ben Hanson had gotten to her in the worst way. He was all she could think about. But this wouldn’t do. She had to snap out of it. “Now, I’m asking because I really want to know. How is everyone at home?”

“Well, when I left a few hours ago your father was pouring over weather reports. I’m happy to say that the national weather service hasn’t reported anything the Big Guy can’t handle. Your mother is busy, busy, busy.”

“And loving every moment of it,” Carol interjected.

Jolly nodded. “She’s in her element, that’s for sure. Now your brother, that’s a whole different story. Wanna hear the juicy details?”

Carol nodded.

“Nicholas was in so far over his head after you left that your father actually hired him a full-time assistant.”

Carol’s eyes widened. “No.”

Jolly nodded, a gleam in her eye. “Oh, yes he did. Her name is Holly and she is, so Rapz informs me, blindingly beautiful. And smart. And she can run circles around your brother in the organization department. You see where this going?”

Carol grinned. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to witness that in person.”

“Just what I wanted to hear you say. Let’s get you packed.” Jolly hopped off the side of the bed and opened the closet door.

“What are you talking about?” Carol ran around the side of the bed and reached over Jolly’s head to close the closet. “I’m not leaving.”

“Oh, yes you are,” Jolly shot back.

A strange panicky feeling ran through Carol. “I haven’t even wrapped the presents yet.”

“That’s your only objection to going home?” Jolly asked. “Because I can do that while you pack. I’m no Rapz but I am fast. So, if that’s it…” her voice trailed off knowingly.

“Well, it’s just that I haven’t…we haven’t…well, I can’t explain it.” She couldn’t explain her reluctance to leave because she didn’t understand it herself.

“Maybe you can’t, but I can,” Jolly told her. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on around here.” She slid the closet door open and pulled out Carol’s suitcase. “Start packing. The Big Guy wants you home.”

“What?”

Jolly took a deep breath and spoke in an exaggeratedly slow voice. “Your father, known to all the world as Santa Claus, wants you to come home with me.”

“Today?” Carol’s heart began to race. She hadn’t expected this, but maybe she should have. She’d failed in her mission and of course, Santa knew.

“Can I get some help here?” Jolly’s voice broke through her thoughts.

Carol glanced at the suitcase and then reluctantly lifted it onto the bed and plopped down beside it. “But I’m not ready to go.”