A Christmas to Remember (10 page)

“Well look who decided to come home,” Joyce said with a grin as Adam walked in with the case of beer. He set it down next to the refrigerator and gave her a hug.

“Hey, Mom,” he said. “I warned you that I still have to work.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. Looking at the two of them, Carrie wondered again what he was like as a kid. Had he run to this woman in front of him now with scraped knees after falling on his bike outside? She imagined Joyce, a wisp of a woman, younger, her arms stretched out, a consoling look on her face. Had she bandaged him up, given him a hug? Did he make her Mother’s Day macaroni necklaces in school and paint her pictures? Was he funny, or serious like David?

“I made supper. You’d better get that snowy coat off of ya and sit down and eat. The cornbread’ll be coming out soon,” she said with warmth behind her eyes. Carrie wondered if Joyce was thinking the same thing as she was: Please stay, Adam. Don’t go to your office and do work. Stay. Carrie was willing him, with everything she had inside, not to go.

“I’ll get us the beers,” Eric said, clapping him on the back and squatting down to pick up the case of beer. When the two men made eye contact, there was something unsaid between them—she could feel it. Eric was friendly enough, but his eyes said something else too, something that they hadn’t said when Carrie had met him, something she couldn’t quite decipher. Eric carried the case over to the island and gently set it down.

Adam scooted out the chair and hung his coat on the back of it. When he took a seat, Carrie had to work to conceal her smile. “Hey there, Gramps!” he threw up a hand to Walter.

He smiled at Sharon, but it wasn’t his usual smile—there was something jagged and tense in their look to each other. They were both trying to hide it, but she’d caught it.
What is going on between them?
she wondered. Eric’s look and now Sharon’s was a kind of look she couldn’t figure out.

“How are you, Dad?” he asked.

“Can’t complain.” Bruce slid Carrie’s hand of cards along the table toward Adam. “Here, play Carrie’s cards for her while she helps your mother.”

“What am I playing?” He scanned the table. “Oh. Rummy. I should have guessed,” he grinned. “Whose go?”

“Yours.”

As Carrie went back to the stove to help Joyce, she noticed that Adam was glancing over at her from behind his hand of cards. It was subtle, his gaze not lingering for long, but she’d noticed it, and it made her feel self-conscious. At the same time, an electric sort of energy shot through her, and she had to work not to smile. She had so many emotions already for someone she barely knew: irritation, worry, nervousness, excitement. She’d never cared how she looked before or what people thought of her when she was working around the kitchen, but when he looked at her, she couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, tuck her hair behind her ear when the loose strands fell down around her face.

She helped Joyce get the dishes out of the oven and off the stove, and she dished his plate first. Eric had popped the top off a few beers and put one in front of Adam. She set his plate down just as he took a swig from the bottle, and she had to stifle the fizz of attraction that ran though her seeing him in such a casual atmosphere. Being around him was easy, nice. Seeing him like that gave her hope that things could change for him. He had the ability to relax if she could just make him see that he needed to do it more often. Carrie went back over to the food to fix the others their plates.

Sharon stood up and shooed her away from the food. “Don’t worry about us,” she said, handing Carrie a plate. “You’ve done all the hard work. I’ll get everyone’s dishes served. There’s an empty chair next to Adam,” she smiled. “Why don’t you relax and eat.” The funny thing was that she was more relaxed than she’d been in a long time. She didn’t know much about the Fletcher family, but she could tell they were
her
kind of people—the kind that enjoyed sitting around a table for hours doing nothing but talking, the kind that sat on their front porches in good weather, the kind that looked out for one another.

“Want a beer?” Adam asked as she sat down next to him. She nodded although she didn’t want him to move. She wanted to keep him there in that moment when he didn’t have to leave, with the snow coming down, with the candle burning showing the tiny gold flecks in his blue eyes. He got up, pulled one from the fridge, and popped off the top. “Want a glass?”

“I’m okay with the bottle,” she said, the only reason being that he’d sit down. He handed it to her just as his phone rang in the pocket of his coat.
Don’t answer
, she wanted to say but he already had. He put up a finger to hold everyone off for a second and then with his head down, listening to whoever was on the line, he left the room, and her heart sank. She knew he probably wouldn’t be back for a while, if at all. Sharon caught her eye across the table. She smiled, but there were thoughts behind her eyes, and Carrie wondered if her disappointment showed on her face. She sat up a little straighter and stabbed a few macaroni noodles with her fork.

Joyce sat down, and everyone ate. Carrie watched Adam’s plate of food getting cold at his empty spot. She felt terrible for Joyce and Bruce, and for his sister. They’d come all the way from North Carolina, and, as usual, he’d spent a few minutes in the moment, and then he was gone. She knew by their faces that they noticed and that it bothered them, but no one said anything. The cards were still spread out from the Rummy game, amidst wine glasses, bottles of beer, and plates of food.

“Sorry,” he said, startling her. “That was Andy, from the office.” His eyes fluttered over to Carrie and then away. She thought he could probably sense what everyone was thinking. “The number was my office number, so I worried it was something regarding work… Her car was stuck in the snow, and I thought I was going to have to go out and get her, but she got the car out.”

Carrie’s grandmother had a record player that she still played when Carrie was young. The way it used to make that dull, thudding sound at the end of the song when the needle had moved into the black strip at the center of the record—that’s the sound that was pulsing in her ears as Carrie processed his words.
Her
. Andy
was
a woman. He was contemplating running to her rescue in a snowstorm. Did he and Andy have some sort of relationship? Suddenly, Carrie’s entire perspective changed. Andy wasn’t just someone from the office. She was someone from the office who may be having a relationship with Adam. Someone who’d called from his own office phone. Someone who he’d gone for drinks with after work instead of coming straight home. The person he’d just left a few minutes before now. She felt smaller and smaller with every second that ticked by as she thought about this woman. She didn’t allow her mind to go any further than it had because it already made her time with him feel so inconsequential.

The times he’d smiled at her, was he only being polite? When he’d gone to the Christmas-tree farm, had he just felt obligated, guilty? Tonight, when he’d looked at her across the kitchen, he was probably wondering why she was still there, imposing on his family get-together. There she was, sitting at his table, eating his food, socializing with his family when it wasn’t her place at all. She waltzed around the house in her jeans and socks, barely any makeup, completely unprofessional when she should probably be dressed better, like Natalie had been. She should be in her room right now. Her job was the children and they were in bed.

She’d eaten already. It was time that she made her exit. She was willing to bet that Adam didn’t want her there. He’d just been too nice to tell her. She could feel the wetness of tears in her eyes—tears of frustration for the immaturity and stupidity she’d shown. Her hands were starting to shake from the mortification of it all. How could she have been so stupid? What must his family really think? They were obviously too polite to make her feel unwelcome. She felt ridiculous. She had a school-girl crush on her employer when he didn’t have the first feeling for her whatsoever. Why would he? Look at her. She was thirty-three years old, spending Christmas with someone else’s family without any real life friends. She looked around at everyone. They probably felt sorry for her.

“I think I’m going to head up to bed,” she said to the table, trying not to look at anyone in particular, blinking her eyes too much to keep the tears from showing. She felt ridiculous all of a sudden, and she just wanted to get out of there.

“But you haven’t had any dessert. I’ve got a pie on ice. It won’t take too long to heat it up,” Joyce said, her face full of concern. Carrie prayed that Joyce couldn’t read the emotions that were going on inside her right now. She needed to get out of the room quickly before she fell apart.

“I’m very tired,” she said, using the last of her energy to produce a genuine-looking smile. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I really enjoyed it.” She turned away from them as quickly as she could so that she could be up the stairs before the tears came. All the insecurities she’d had were now exploding inside, her chest aching with the misery of it. She had better figure out what she was going to do soon because she certainly couldn’t do this anymore.

W
hen you feel anxious
, question your feelings.
The problem was, Carrie questioned her questions. The light coming through the window was nearly blinding—white and piercing. She squinted, trying to surface completely from her sleep. She pushed the covers off her legs, the chill of winter snaking around them, and got out of bed. Her book on relieving anxiety fell onto the floor, the bookmark sliding across the hardwoods. She picked it up and walked to the window.

A tiny break in the clouds had allowed the sun to peek through, but she could see more dark gray in the distance, which was good because with the amount of snow outside, the reflection of sunlight was so bright she could hardly enjoy it. She could make out the camper in the driveway, its roof piled with at least a foot of snow. The yard, the streets, the driveway were all covered in a pristine blanket of white. Carrie loved to look at the snow before anyone had walked in it, when it wasn’t damaged by feet or muddied by cars. It reminded her of children—their innocence, their untainted little feelings—brand new, with no blemishes. But soon, that snow would be trampled, worn down, a sloppy mess. She flipped through her book and tried to find the page where she’d stopped reading last night.

Once she’d marked her spot, she sat down on the four-poster bed in the room that Adam had given her. The walls were beige, the dark wood of the bedroom suite complementing nicely. Just that one suite probably cost more money than she had in the bank, and again, she felt inferior. Adam was around her age, and he’d already accomplished so much. He had two beautiful children, a mansion of a house, and a successful business that he owned himself. She had her suitcases in the closet and her books. That was it. She worried that she’d gone too long, that she’d wasted too much time, and now she wouldn’t be able to find that perfect person to create a life with. What if she never found that person? She equated a home and a family with growing up. Wasn’t that what people did? They grew up, got married, and had a life. She didn’t. Her life hadn’t moved forward at all. She was stuck.

She looked down at the open page in her book and started reading. She scanned the characteristics mapped out for the chapter on anxiety and depression:
Difficulty making decisions… Feeling sad… Lonely…
She could relate to all those things. The sun slipped back behind the clouds, instantly shading the room in a gray light. She sat down on the bed, the book on her lap. Why did having the one job she loved most in life have to make her so miserable?

“Carrie?” a little voice whispered from the doorway of her room. “I’m awake.”

Carrie turned around, producing the biggest smile she could muster. David was standing with his white and blue train pajamas and a blanket in his hand. His hair was disheveled and his feet were bare. She noticed his long eyelashes as he blinked, the soft pink on his cheeks from sleep, the crease-mark on his forehead that his sheet had made, and she couldn’t deny that she loved this. It wasn’t his fault that her life was a mess. She’d only been with the children a few days and the thought of leaving them made her chest ache. She saw so much good in them, so much she could try to do to make their lives a little better. Look how quickly she’d gotten through to them. She was making a difference. “Are we the first ones up?” she asked, consciously trying to keep her voice cheerful.

“I think so,” he said.

She stood and pulled three small bouncy balls that all fit in the palm of her hand and a cup from the case of toys that she brought with her to every job. They were perfect for moments like these. “I have a game you can play while I get ready. See if you can bounce the balls into the cup. You only get one try for each ball. If you don’t get any in, you can start over.” She grabbed a handful of clothes and wadded them into her arms. From the en-suite bathroom door, she said, “My guess is that you can get it into the cup five times before I’m done. What do you guess?”

“Seven,” he said, smiling.

He was already bouncing when she went in to get ready for the day. She turned on the water at the sink and ran her toothbrush under the stream. She thought about her life, trying to weigh her options. Should she settle on another job? She imagined what it would be like to come home from work and have nothing to do in the evenings. As the thought entered her mind, she could feel a tightness forming in her chest as she realized that she didn’t know what to do with all that time. Where would she go? She hadn’t thought about where she’d live or with whom she’d spend her time. She didn’t even have any friends she could call. If she could just have someone who understood…

When Carrie was a little girl, she would dress up in her white dress and pretend she was getting married. All through her life, she imagined what life would be like as an adult. Even in college, her future had seemed wide open. She thought about big family dinners, romantic evenings, sunsets on vacation, cozy days by the fire. She was realistic enough to know that those things wouldn’t happen all the time, but she’d never fathomed that, for her, they wouldn’t happen. She wanted those things more than anything, so the idea of not having them worried her beyond words.

The process of meeting someone and investing enough time in them to find out if they were worth spending her life with seemed daunting. She was already in her thirties. What if it took a lot of people before she found The One? Could she end up settling on more than just a job? She knew she never could, and so there was a real possibility that she would end up alone for the rest of her life. How empty she would feel.

When she’d finished getting ready, she emerged from the bathroom to find that Olivia had joined David in his bouncing game. Wearing her long flannel nightdress with little pink roses, Olivia had her hands on her hips and a pout on her face. They were in a disagreement over whose turn it was. “Good morning,” she said to Olivia. “David, how many did you get?” she asked, trying to diffuse their argument.

“Four,” he said. He pursed his lips and looked at Olivia out of the corner of his eye. “It’s my go.”

“I have an idea. David, do you still have all three balls?” He nodded. “Let’s all take one, last go—one ball each—and then we can get ready for the day. I have a special art project planned, and I’m going to need both of you to help.”

That seemed to do the trick because they both perked up and David handed out the balls without a flinch. One more shot each, and they were running to their rooms to get dressed. She didn’t even have to help them—they each went into their rooms faster than she could whisper, “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

As she turned to go down the stairs, she met Adam as he was coming up. “Good morning,” she said, wishing she’d had a little more time to get ready for the day. She made a mental note to set her alarm for an hour earlier, now that she was getting used to the wake-times of the children. She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears to hide any lack of style. Just the sight of Adam made her worry. She wanted him to take her seriously, to know that she was every bit as intelligent as his colleagues and friends, but she just hadn’t had the opportunity to show him. It was all so silly, she knew that. She shouldn’t want to impress him at all, but there was something about him that drew her in and made her want to bring out the best in him, just like she did with the kids. But he had his own life, however he’d decided to live it. She could only hope to find someone one day who looked at her like he had those few times.

“Good morning,” he said, with a tiny inhale of breath.

She could tell it was an impulse to relieve some sort of stress. His shoulders were tight, his chest puffing out a bit with his breath. He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. It was the kind of smile that someone gives a stranger on the street, not a nanny who had just spent the night in his house. She worried that her presence bothered him as she recounted last night. She’d gone over and over it in her head, in her bed last night, losing sleep as she thought about her presence at supper, and she hoped with everything inside her that she hadn’t imposed.

“I’m going to be working from the home office this morning,” he said. “The snow has blocked in my car. If you can please keep the noise down over my way, it would be appreciated.” Funny—she remembered making that wish last night for him to get snowed in, but now she wished that she hadn’t.

“Oh. Okay. Is everything all right?” she asked.

“It’s fine. I just needed to get into the office today. Oh, and Andy Simpson will be stopping by briefly to meet with me. She, thank God, can get her car out. Neither of us think we can get into the office, but she can get here since the main roads are clear.”

Carrie’s head felt heavy and cloudy with the news that Andy would be coming to the house. She wanted to go back to her room and make herself more presentable, not wanting to look or feel any more inferior when Andy came by, but now that he’d already seen her, it would be odd, and the kids were ready for breakfast anyway. They came barreling down the hallway, Olivia’s giggles bouncing off the walls as they made their way to the staircase. When they got there, they both looked at Carrie, smiles on their faces. Although their welcome lifted her spirits, they’d barely acknowledged that Adam was standing there.

“Can you say hello to your daddy?” Carrie asked, her eyes darting to Adam with concern.

Both children looked up at him through their lashes bashfully, their chins down. Olivia offered a little smile as David said, “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hello,” he said back to them. Carrie could sense a lapse in confidence when he said it. It was subtle, as if he were trying not to show it, but it was there on his face. It hit her with a thud because she knew the feeling so well. It was the same feeling she had when she was with
him
. She could almost sense the thoughts in his head—how he didn’t know the right words to say, how to react appropriately. He wanted to be good at it—he was so good at work—but he just didn’t know how to be good at this. That’s what she guessed, anyway.

“We have to be very quiet for your daddy today,” she told them, trying to fill the silence that had fallen between them. “Olivia, do you think you can keep your grandma Joyce quiet today?” Olivia giggled. “David, how about Grandpa Bruce? Think he can be quiet?” David’s eyes darted around the floor, as if he were thinking of real ways to keep his grandfather quiet. “We’ll do our best,” she said to Adam with a smile.

“Thank you.” There was something in his eyes as he said the words, almost as if he were taking in her methodology, learning how she spoke to the children. He had a curious expression, his face soft and interested. There was something so attractive about him when looked at her like that; it was undeniable what she felt. Even if it was unprofessional, she couldn’t help it. He walked past them, the children stepping closer to Carrie to let him by, and disappeared around the corner.

When they got downstairs, they had breakfast, and the house was completely quiet. It was still early, so they tiptoed to the playroom where Carrie pulled out a bag she’d brought with her. On the drive between North Carolina and Virginia, she’d stopped at a few craft stores. She loved craft stores. She collected little things she could find at a reduced price—wooden boxes for painting, canvases that were two for a dollar, crayons, whatever was on sale. In a craft store she’d found after taking a stretch break at the Emporia exit, just inside Virginia, she’d bought these soft, canvas stockings.

“I have lots of Christmas paint,” she said, pulling the stockings out of the bag and setting them on the art table. “I’ll draw on some holly leaves if you’d like and you all can do the berries with your fingers. When they’re dry, if the snow clears, we can take them to the candy shop and fill them up with Christmas candy. How does that sound?”

The children both nodded, their eyes the size of quarters and their mouths hanging open in surprise. Olivia was already reaching for the red paint. “It’s sparkly!” she said, opening the top.

“It is sparkly. Would you like some help getting it out of the container?”

“Yes, please,” she said, raising her shoulders and grinning at David in anticipation. David sat with his hands in his lap, a small smile on his lips while Carrie squeezed the colors onto a paper plate.

“I have towels for you when you’re finished.”

As the kids began to paint, Carrie used a fine point bottle of green to outline the holly leaves around their tiny, red fingerprints. When they were all finished, she used a cranberry paint and wrote their names in curly lettering at the top.

“Oh, I like that, Carrie!” Olivia said, waving the rag and wiping her fingers clumsily as she attempted to get the red paint out from under her fingernails. David had been so careful with his that his hands were already clean after only one wipe. He inspected his stocking carefully, a satisfied expression on his face. He folded his arms and sat back in his chair, clearly happy with himself.

“We’ll let these dry all day. Let’s leave them on the table. Is everyone cleaned up?” Both children nodded.

“Hello,” Joyce said, walking into the playroom. Carrie stopped talking and turned around. Joyce had her gray hair pinned back into a clip and a heather-blue sweater that came up to her neck, giving her creamy skin a rosy glow. Carrie hadn’t noticed until then how much David favored her. “Good morning.” She walked over and peered at the stockings. “These are beautiful.”

“Carrie did the leaves,” Olivia explained as she rummaged around in her dress-up box. She pulled out a pink boa and a flouncy hat and put them on.

“I did all the dots on mine,” David said, looking up at her.

“It’s lovely, David. You have perfect dots. I can see your fingerprints!”

Olivia called from across the room, “Grandma Joyce, will you stay and play with us?” She’d taken her hat off, and her hair was puffing out in untamed strands as the static took hold in the dry air.

“I’d love to.”

“Want to play trains?” David asked, getting a bin full of track pieces from the shelf. Olivia slipped her feather boa off and let it shimmy to the floor. She lowered herself down onto her knees next to the train bin and pulled out two pieces of track.