Silver Christmas (2 page)

The silence was broken by their bleating and
the rustling of their feet in the newly spread straw. When he
needed to think, he sometimes came out to the goat shed at night.
There was something about these friendly, inquisitive animals that
set him at ease, like being among friends.

After a moment, he turned. His back to the
fence, he faced Jennifer. In the unforgiving UV light, he could see
her scalp through her short hair. A memory surfaced from long ago,
of sliding his fingers through her silky golden locks, bringing
with it longings and emotions he had long since shut away.

He ruthlessly shoved the memory back in its
box and anger rose. This woman had broken his heart and abandoned
her baby. He would not let her hurt him again.

Jennifer pushed her chilly fingers into the fleece
lining of her coat pockets and shuffled her feet against the cold.
After five years in Africa followed by months in the hothouse
temperatures of the hospital ward, she was finding it difficult to
acclimatize to wintery England.

"I'm sure you know why I'm here. I want to
see Chloe." Jennifer met Owen's dark, brooding look but it was too
intense, and she let her gaze slide past him.

The curious goats crowded along the fence,
noses prodding Owen for attention. It was almost impossible to
equate the playboy she'd known ten years ago with this man in a
muddy coat and Wellington boots in front of her. She couldn't get
her head around it.

"You took your time coming back." Anger laced
Owen's low clipped words.

She wasn't having that. "You were the one who
sent me away."

"I did no such thing. I asked you to marry me
and be a mother to our child."

"No. You
told
me to give up my plan to
go to college so I could marry you and become a full-time mother."
Jennifer swallowed back the knot of resentment she'd lived with
since the day she walked away. "You made me choose between my baby
and my dream of being a veterinarian."

"That's because I thought any sane woman
would choose her child." Owen threw up his hands and paced away
from her into the shadows. He stood with his back to her for a
moment before he turned and walked back.

"I wanted you here with us, not at college in
London for five years. You didn't need a career. I could have given
you everything you wanted." He swiped a hand across his face,
appearing to struggle to stay in control. "Chloe needed you," he
added softly, the accusation hitting its mark.

Tears pricked Jennifer's eyes and she turned
aside, pulling a hand from the warmth of her pocket to wipe her
lower lashes. She swallowed back the tangled, twisted emotions that
made her want to shout at him. He'd always known how to push her
buttons, and fighting wouldn't do her any good.

She turned to face him and looked him in the
eye. "You told me that unless I married you and gave up college,
you'd make sure I never saw my baby again."

"It was an emotional time. I was angry."

"I'd just had a baby. My hormones were all
over the place, and I was vulnerable. You should have been
understanding and given me time instead of pushing me away."

Owen closed his eyes and pressed his lips
into a flat line. When he opened his eyes again, they glistened
with tears, and it shocked her.

"I know." His words dropped into the silence
and seemed to hang there, echoing back through ten years of guilt
and regret. She'd been prepared to fight him in the courts for
access to her daughter. She'd not expected him to admit he'd been
at fault as well.

"So you'll let me see Chloe?"

"Of course. All that matters is doing the
best for my darling girl."

For a split second, Jennifer thought he was
referring to her. Something inside long dead flared back to life
like a tiny fire in the darkness. Then she understood his darling
girl was Chloe.

"Not here, not now, though," he said. "I need
to prepare her to see you."

"What did you tell her about me?"

"The truth, of course."

Pain clenched like a fist around Jennifer's
heart. "That I gave her up when she was a newborn?"

"No. That you have an important job making
sick animals better, and you can't be with us."

Jennifer grabbed at a wooden bench for
support as her breath jolted in with shock. She folded over against
the stab of pain from her scar. She'd been sure he'd have poisoned
Chloe against her, and feared her daughter might not want to see
her. Yet he'd been kind.

"I always hoped you'd come back." Owen was
right beside her now. His arm slid around her, supported her, and
she had to fight the urge to lean into him as the pain burned in
her belly.

This meeting wasn't going at all as Jennifer
had expected. It was so much better and so much worse.

• • •

Owen guided Jennifer a few steps to a bucket, turned
it over, and helped her sit down on the makeshift seat. She'd been
pale before but now she had a blue-gray tinge around her mouth and
eyes, and he was worried she might pass out.

Protective feelings flooded him. He crouched
in front of her, taking her slim hands in his as he peered into her
face. "What's wrong with you, Jenn?" The terrifying c-word floated
in his mind, but he wouldn't say it. Although she had scars on her
face, they had obviously come from an injury and not a disease.

"I was shot."

He swore under his breath, the word out
before he could stop it. "How on earth . . . ?"

"I've been working for a wildlife charity in
Africa."

He knew that. He regularly Googled her name,
had seen the post about her graduating from college at the top of
her class, read the blogs she posted about her work on the charity
website, and watched the fifteen-minute video she'd made about the
animal orphanage where she worked as a wildlife vet—numerous times.
But he wasn't going to admit he'd been checking up on her.

In every photograph and the video, she'd
still had long hair, and he hadn't seen any reports of her being
shot.

"When?"

Jennifer closed her eyes as if thinking was a
huge effort. "Four months ago," she said finally, a fine tremor
passing through her limbs.

Owen rubbed her cold hands between his and
made a decision. He wasn't sending her away like this. He had to
take her into the warm kitchen and get some food inside her.

"Come on." He put an arm around her waist and
helped her to her feet.

"Where are we going?"

"In the house."

"No." She stopped as he slid open the goat
shed door and shook her head. "You need to break the news about me
to Chloe gently. I don't want to crash back into her life, looking
a mess like this."

"Where are you staying?" Maybe he could drive
her there and make sure she ate something.

"I'm not sure yet. I haven't had a chance to
find anywhere."

Owen clenched his jaw. That settled it. Chloe
was resilient; she'd cope with the surprise. He wasn't about to let
Jennifer leave if she didn't have anywhere to go.

He kept his arm around her as they crossed
the yard and entered the back door. Then he led her into the
kitchen and pulled out a chair at the table for her. She sat
carefully as if she were in pain.

"Are you sure you shouldn't still be in the
hospital?"

"No. They released me yesterday."

"Yesterday!" Owen cursed to himself, silently
this time. "You should be resting at home."

"I needed to see Chloe."

She averted her gaze, and he busied himself
making a fresh pot of tea and pouring her a mug. He set it in front
of her and sat opposite, across the table.

Somehow the strangeness of her return was
already fading, and he was falling back into the closeness they'd
once had. Although every time he glanced at her, he was jerked back
to the present because she was so changed. This world-weary woman
in front of him was very different from the bubbly young beauty
full of big ideas who had stolen his heart.

He reached across the table and touched her
fingers where they clasped the mug. "I'll go and tell Chloe you're
here. We'll be down in ten minutes, and we can all have dinner
together." He poked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the
stove. "Mrs. Tiptree has left us a pot roast."

"You still have Mrs. Tiptree come in?"
Jennifer gave him a weak smile. "She must be in her eighties
now."

Owen simply smiled and nodded, relieved to
see a little color back in Jennifer's cheeks. She'd frightened him
out in the barn. He sat for a moment, aware of the silence above,
wondering what Chloe was doing, wondering how he would break this
life-changing news to his daughter.

"While you're upstairs, I'll freshen up. All
right if I use the downstairs bathroom?"

"Of course."

He rose and she followed suit, clutching her
handbag on its long strap around her body.

Owen left Jennifer in the kitchen, her
presence in the house dominating his awareness, even when she was
out of sight.

He went upstairs, along the corridor to the
end, and pushed open Chloe's door. She was lying prone on the bed,
knees bent, feet clad in striped socks waving in the air.
Feverishly she worked at a drawing pad with her crayons. Beside
her, Paddy lay on the comforter, stretched out with his head rested
on his front paws.

"Hey, cocoa puff. What're you drawing?"

"Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. I want to show
my teacher I'm going to be really good when I play Mary in the
nativity play, so I'm drawing her a picture."

Owen couldn't fathom what drawing well had to
do with being able to act, but he smiled and nodded. He sat on the
bed beside Paddy and stroked a hand over his daughter's head,
leaning in to examine her picture, his mind busy, turning over how
to break the news.

From when Chloe was tiny, he'd spoken about
her mother, told her Jennifer was a vet who did something very
important. He'd hoped to give Chloe a sense of connection to her
absent mother, a sense of identity. So when other children talked
about their mothers, Chloe had something to say.

He'd expected Jennifer to come back to them
once she graduated. It had been a shock to discover she'd gone to
Africa, but he'd never given up hope. He'd shown Chloe the pictures
of Jennifer and the short video on the animal charity website,
priming her to meet her mother, sure it would happen—although he'd
never dreamed it would take ten years.

And now that day had come, yet it was nothing
like he'd imagined. He'd visualized Jennifer returning like a
successful movie starlet, her long blond hair gleaming in the
summer sun, her skin tanned.

Owen ran his hand over his daughter's silky
dark hair affectionately, desperate not to hurt her and unsure of
what the future held. He couldn't deny a small corner of his heart
was jealous that he'd have to give up a bit of his daughter's love
to Jennifer. He was so used to being everything to her.

"I have a surprise for you," he said
finally.

She stopped and gave him her full attention,
a frown painting fine lines on her smooth forehead, obviously
picking up on his conflicted mood. "What, Dad?"

"Your mum has come to see us." The words that
would change their lives fell from his lips as if they were any
casual comment.

Chloe stared at him for a few moments, as if
she expected him to say,
Tricked you. I was only joking
.

Then she moved, erupted from the bed as if
propelled from beneath, and she was out the bedroom door, charging
down the hall, her feet thumping on the hardwood floor. Paddy shot
up a moment later, nearly knocking Owen from the bed as he
followed, claws scrabbling to catch up.

Owen rose, slightly bemused by the speed of
change, as if the world had suddenly tilted and he had to find his
balance. Then he hurried after his daughter.

Jennifer stared into the small mirror over the sink
in the bathroom and dabbed makeup beneath her eyes to hide the
shadows, and on the side of her face to hide the scars. Then she
added a touch of blusher to her cheeks for some color, and finished
with a stroke of mascara on her lashes.

She'd lost her lipstick somewhere, maybe on
the floor of her rental car, so she could do nothing about her pale
lips. But her lips didn't matter; she wasn't going on a date. She
was simply trying to look presentable for her first meeting with
her daughter, something far more important than any date.

When she was satisfied, she headed back to
the kitchen to sit and take a sip of her now tepid tea. Nerves made
it impossible to sit still, so she rose and paced back and forth,
wringing her hands together, listening to the faint sound of Owen
and Chloe's voices upstairs.

All her insecurities flooded back as she
waited. What if Chloe didn't want to see her, or didn't like her?
After all, her daughter was no longer a small child who would
accept her mother without judgment. Chloe would have spent years
wondering at her mother's absence, years for resentment to grow.
Nobody would blame a ten-year-old for being bitter and difficult
under the circumstances.

A door crashed open upstairs, and Jennifer's
attention snapped back to the moment. Footsteps thundered down the
stairs, and she grabbed the back of the chair where she'd sat
earlier, bracing herself.

Tall for her age, the willowy girl with long
dark hair in a ponytail appeared in the doorway and halted, the
black Labrador at her side. Her gaze swept over Jennifer, her eyes
wide and brown—Owen's eyes. If Jennifer hadn't given birth to this
child, she might doubt they were related.

"Hello, Chloe. You look so much like your
father." She could see nothing of herself in the girl's pretty
face. She was a Bramwell through and through.

"You're my mum?"