He let out a timid laugh.
I laughed too.
Tears formed next as Finn wrapped his arms around my leg. “Mommy, is that Santa?”
And my heart released.
All the years of rejection, pain, resentment, rushed out, leaving room for something else, leaving room for something different, something . . . more.
I scooped Finn up in my arms, and he wiped at the tears on my cheeks. “It’s okay, Mommy. Santa has presents for you too.”
I kissed his cheek, my little man with words beyond his tiny two years. “No, baby. This isn’t Santa. This—this is your grandfather.”
My dad’s eyes lit up.
I searched them. Not with an immediate trust. Not with a blind faith.
But with an honest offer of hope.
He nodded with understanding and looked back to his grandson.
Finn’s faced twisted, curious, then his eyes grew wide too. “We have a grandpa?”
“You do.” I reached out and took my dad’s shaky hand. “Grandpa Joe.”
“Cool!” Finn kicked to get down, and I set him on the floor. “We gotta grampa,” he chattered, running back down the hall, hollering for Alex.
My dad looked at our hands and back up at me.
Marc walked up behind him, with slow, steady steps. “Everything okay here?”
He’d made it. The rest of my worries released, and the lights flicked on, Marc’s automation well-timed with our own revelations. Santa now celebrating on the lawn with the reindeer. His merry wave like a welcome friend.
“Yeah.” I nodded, keeping my eyes on my father’s face of relief. “It’s okay.”
He smiled, the happiest I’d ever seen.
I smiled back. “I think it might even be more than okay.”
My throat squeezed. I hoped.
Chapter 9
Two Years Later
“What do you mean you’re not coming?” I smiled through gritted teeth, hoping the forced sing-song rhythm of my voice masked the anger behind it. Alex and Finn gyrated in the living room of Old Man Jones. A big open space, sunken both physically and in time, with wall to wall carpeting and a cheerful fireplace. One I’d be much more apt to enjoy if I didn’t have a screaming headache. It was Christmas Eve. Sugar and Santa made the perfect combination for the kids’ holiday bliss, but also for my blistering migraine.
“All the flights have been delayed. Snowed out. You know Chicago,” Marc rasped. He sounded exhausted. Too. He sounded exhausted too.
There was no point to an I-told-you-so. It wouldn’t get him home in time. I dug through my purse, finally found the tiny bottle of aspirin at the bottom, quickly swallowed two.
“He’s not going to make it?” Mr. Jones was leaning forward in his rocker, fully enjoying the display of carols the kids were putting on for him. Whoever said he was a curmudgeon all those years ago was wrong. For a new widower at Christmas, he couldn’t have been more jolly.
I was the grump.
Shaking my head, I held a finger to my lips. Waiting to tell the kids would be better. He nodded with understanding and went back to watching their jingle bell dance.
Marc sighed on the other end of the phone. What was I supposed to say?
“Look,” I breathed. “There’s nothing we can do about it at this point. We’ll make the best of it.”
“Yeah. I guess. When does your dad get there?”
I looked at my watch just as the doorbell rang. “Looks like now.”
Mr. Jones eased out of his chair, once again proving his years were merely a number, and went to get the door.
“Marcus,” I hissed out a whisper. “How am I supposed to pull this off?” I glanced at the kids, now turned TV spectators. “The two-wheeled contraptions aren’t going to build themselves.”
“Jones will help you. And your dad.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “My dad?”
Marcus jostled the phone. “Well, he’ll try anyway.”
“Yeah.” I let my head rest against the couch pillow, thankful the aspirin had started to take effect. “At least Old Man Jones won’t be alone tonight.”
“And you aren’t trapped in a house entirely packed in boxes.”
“True.” We’d listed our house on a whim when the market peaked. We’d never expected a full offer on day one. It was a blessing, a financial windfall really, but a whirlwind experience. Now we were scrambling to find a place, invest the money wisely. I was used to designing the epic homes of others, but the idea of dipping into that end of the pool myself had never occurred to me as a possibility.
The deep rumbles of laughter travelled up from the corridor. “It sounds like the guys are already hitting it off.”
“Good.” Marc’s reply, garbled.
“Coffee?”
“Yup.” He exhaled, far more contented than moments before. “Okay, so, the bikes? Just ask Jones to help. Did the kids like skating?”
I brightened. “They loved it. Finn was super fast, like you. Alex was all twirls.”
His smile nearly came through the phone. “Good. That’s—that’s good. I’m sorry I missed it.”
“Me too.”
Old Man Jones and my dad walked back into the room. The kids ran to hug their grandpa. It was such a strange thing still to see sometimes, but less and less jarring. Mostly happy.
“Here. I’m going to give you to Jones. Tell him about the bike stuff. I don’t want to seem too bossy.”
Marc laughed. “Uh, huh.”
“To him,” I whipped back. “You need it sometimes.”
He laughed again, with me. “Letting you think that was the best decision I ever made.”
I rolled my eyes and handed Jones the phone. A nod and a couple of-courses later, and he passed it back with that same up-to-something look Marc always got.
“You two are trouble,” I said to them both.
Jones shrugged in feigned ignorance and started relaying the message to my dad.
“Get the kids in the car,” Marc’s voice called from the phone. I held it back up to my ear. “We’re going to go look at Christmas lights while Jones and Gramps get the bikes together.”
“We’ve downgraded to video chat Christmas lights now?”
“At least it’s something we’ve never done before.” His voice dropped. “I think the two a.m. experience is still my favorite, though.”
“Mmmm,” I whispered. “That was a good one.”
“I should be there by eleven. I’ll make brunch. Honey pancakes, the works. Then we can crawl under the tree, and you can tell me all about why it was so good.” I wished I could see the grin I knew was plastered on his face. “I promise to listen close.”
I giggled, hand to my neck, flush with memories. “I promise a detailed rendition.”
The kids were passing around my phone, Marc’s face glowing on the screen, Marc’s voice battling the Christmas songs blaring from the radio. I hit a couple of big dips in the road and the whole Jeep shook. Alex and Finn exploded into giggles. Marc made some joke about Mommy not being kind to his car, but we both knew it could take a beating.