A Christmas to Remember (9 page)

“Yes. He did tell me. It’s nice to meet you,” Carrie said, trying to look as professional as possible in her sock feet and jeans, though they didn’t seem like the type of people to mind.

The other two people came up the steps. The woman was considerably thin, even through her big coat, her long fingers peeking out from the sleeves. Her wedding ring looked gigantic on her skinny fingers, hanging loosely, the diamond sliding to the side. She had sandy brown hair—long and thin just like she was, and a soft but serious expression. When her eyes met Carrie’s, the corners of her mouth went up only slightly to acknowledge their meeting, but that was all. The woman was clearly battling something. The sadness in her face was the kind of sadness that is only created over a long period of time. The way a rock becomes smooth in the tide, the woman’s face had done the opposite in some kind of storm. There was so much there in her face and the way she held herself that Carrie had a ton of questions going through her head: What had she experienced that the rest of her family had not to make her so sad? Was she happy to be there? Did she wish she were somewhere else? The other person, a man with curly hair and big brown eyes, came up behind the woman and put his hand on her back, almost as if holding her up.

“This is Adam’s sister Sharon,” Joyce said, moving out of the way so that Sharon could formally greet Carrie. Carrie smiled and gestured for them to enter.

Sharon stepped forward to come in, the snow crunching beneath her feet. If it weren’t for her quiet smile, Carrie would have thought her to be a little anxious. She had light skin like her mother, and gentle eyes, although they looked tired. She played with her fingers as if it were a nervous habit just before reaching out and offering a hand to Carrie. “Hello,” she said in a quiet voice. She shook hands and then turned toward the man with curly hair. “This is my husband Eric.”

“They’re leaving me out, but I’m Walter, Adam’s grandfather,” the elderly man said in a lighthearted way as he trailed behind them all. Joyce was already shaking her head, an amused look on her face. She grabbed his walker as Walter held on to the door frame to help himself up the step at the door. He was wearing a houndstooth cap that snapped in the front and a wool scarf over his tan coat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Carrie said, squaring her shoulders and nodding like she should, although she was putting on a more formal air for their benefit. She already felt generally comfortable around them, which said a lot for their first impressions. Walter patted her on the shoulder and offered her a smile not unlike her own grandfather would have done, his legs becoming unsteady with just the gesture, so he leaned back onto this walker for support.

“I’m glad Adam told you about us,” Joyce said, closing the door after everyone had entered. “He failed, however, to mention
you
!”

“I’m so sorry—I thought he would have,” she said, smiling back but feeling a twinge of insignificance creeping in. “I’m Carrie Blake.” As she thought about it, it didn’t surprise her that Adam had neglected to tell his family that he’d had a change in staff. How did he possibly have any time to make a phone call to his family when he barely had time to eat? She had noticed, when she’d let Rose in to clean this morning, that he’d rinsed out and set in the sink the dishes from dinner that she’d prepared, and she was glad that she’d made it for him, even though she was still annoyed with his behavior. This morning, he’d gone before the kids had gotten her up, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him all day.

Joyce picked Olivia up and gave her a squeeze. Olivia’s shoes hung by the strap at her toes, the princess heels dangling from each foot. The little girl wrapped her arms around Joyce’s neck. It was nice to see Olivia be so open and affectionate with her grandmother. Carrie was glad that the children had someone in their lives who showed them they were worth their time. She didn’t like the way Adam spent his days as if they weren’t there. He had passed off responsibility for them by getting a nanny, and if he spent any time with them at all, it was by accident when he ran into them on his way to do something else. As Joyce held Olivia, rubbing noses with her, smiling, talking to her, Carrie knew that this woman must have been the same loving woman when she’d raised Adam. What had turned him into the person he was now? Was she missing something?

“Do you live here?” Joyce asked, glancing down at Carrie’s sock feet. Her face was more curious than bothered, but it made Carrie feel self-conscious. She worried again about what she was presenting in terms of appearances. Had they met Natalie, and did they expect Carrie to be like her? This was how she always dressed when watching children, but as she thought of Natalie, she realized that not everyone followed the same dress code. Carrie didn’t have a dress code at all. Certainly, if she were taking the kids out somewhere, she’d spruce herself up a bit, put on something presentable, and dress the kids accordingly, but on a regular day, she and the children needed clothing that was suitable for exploration, for learning, clothing they could get wrinkled, get paint on, get wet. There were so many opportunities for the children every day to learn and have fun. If they were dressed in their best clothes, they’d miss out on things like bathtub boat races or baking homemade pies.

They were all still huddled in the entryway, so Carrie led them down the hallway where they could hang up their coats. “Yes, I live here,” she said.

Joyce’s eyes widened, a look of surprise on her face. The look was a happy-surprised look, like someone has when they’ve just opened the perfect present. She scanned Carrie from her head to her toes. “Well, this is exciting news, Bruce!” Joyce turned to the man who looked like Adam, every inch of her face showing delight. Carrie had hoped for Adam’s family to be agreeable, but this was more than she’d anticipated. “It’s good to see Adam moving forward.” While Carrie was still trying to process her words, Joyce had put Olivia down and had wrapped her arms around David’s shoulders. “Isn’t it, Bruce?”

Carrie was so confused that she couldn’t even hide it. She felt her face crumple with misunderstanding. Then, the light bulb went off. “Oh! I’m the nanny,” she said quickly, realizing that Joyce must have thought she was Adam’s new girlfriend! “I just started. It’s my third day.”

“Oh dear!” Joyce laughed. “Sorry.” She shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her blunder. “It’s just…” She shook her head again. When she looked back at Carrie, there were thoughts on her face, and it looked like her hopes had been dashed just a bit. She certainly had been excited at the idea of Adam dating. Perhaps she, too, was hoping that Adam would spend less time on work and more time on his personal life. What had Joyce wanted to say? Whatever it was, it was clear she wasn’t going to finish the thought.

Carrie asked for their coats in an attempt to change the subject. She hung them up in the closet, and they all walked together into the living room. Walter grabbed onto Bruce’s arm for support, leaving his walker in the hallway. He’d pushed it up against the wall—it looked so small in that giant hallway. When they sat down, the conversation quieted for a moment, making Carrie feel a little awkward. She turned toward the tree she’d decorated with the children.

The Christmas tree sent light across the polished hardwoods all the way up to the carpet-style shaggy rug that sat under the furniture. It gave the room a coziness and complemented the oversized mantle around the fireplace. Carrie had draped greenery along it—long, wide garlands of spruce with velvet cranberry-colored bows to match the tree skirt—she had other plans for decorating the mantle as well, she just hadn’t shared with the children what they were yet. They all sat on the down-filled sofas that flanked the room. David asked if he could go play in the playroom but Olivia stayed back.

“Forgive me, but I don’t know why Adam needed a nanny,” Joyce said, her southern drawl strong and thick. “We could’ve just come up earlier. Or, heaven forbid, he take an extra few days off to do something non-work-related.” Joyce’s gaze settled on the Christmas tree. “At least he’s decorated for Christmas, which is more than I’d expected.” Joyce’s distaste for Adam’s choices was evident, but she’d kept her face light, smiling and friendly.

Her own mother used to do that too whenever she didn’t agree with Carrie. If she’d decided to wait until night to do her homework, her mother would smile and say, “I don’t think that’s wise, Carrie, but if you feel you can get it all done, then so be it.” She wouldn’t say anything more, and usually, Carrie would spend more hours than she’d planned finishing her homework, getting to bed later than she’d expected. Her mother had always known the right answers, the right things to do, but she never demanded that Carrie do them. She’d always let Carrie choose herself. It didn’t take long before she realized that she’d better start her homework right after school just in case it took longer than she thought. Joyce was similar today. She was scolding Adam, but at the same time, allowing him to make his own choices, however misguided they were. The only problem was that Adam may not have learned from his choices. He may have thought they were just fine.

“Carrie did our tree!” Olivia said. “And me! And David. We made that pretty tree ourselves!” Olivia leaned on the sofa, bouncing against it with her hands. Then she tipped her head toward Joyce, her face right next to her grandmother’s. “Carrie made Daddy go with us to pick it out,” she giggled.

Heat swelled under Carrie’s skin. Was it even obvious to a four-year-old that he wouldn’t have come on his own? Clearly, it didn’t seem to bother Olivia, but it troubled Carrie that Olivia thought it was silly that her father had come—as if it were so out of the ordinary, that it was a ridiculous idea. She could feel the redness emerge like fire on her cheeks from worry for Olivia and David as she looked at Joyce. Adam’s mother was watching her intently, not breaking eye contact, and the change in expression made Carrie almost as nervous as Adam had. True, Carrie had done it for the children, but, she had to admit, that there was a tiny piece of her that wanted him around. He hadn’t given her any reason to feel that way, but she did, and she worried that Joyce could see right through to her thoughts.

“So Carrie made Daddy come, did she?” Joyce said, a smile playing at her lips. “Nobody
makes
your daddy do anything. Perhaps he
wanted
to go,” she said, letting the smile emerge for Olivia’s benefit.

Carrie had been so caught up in her own feelings, she never considered what Adam may have felt on the matter. Even though he’d been distant and uninvolved the whole time, he
had
come with them to the tree lot. Carrie thought about Joyce’s words. Had he wanted to go? The image of his little laugh before that smile came to mind, knotting her stomach right up. She pushed the thought away, knowing she was way out of her league.

T
o improve your personal life
, try to make connections with new people
. Carrie struggled with that particular line because she didn’t know how to go about making those friendships. But tonight, while Adam was still at work, she had a chance to do just that. Walter had pulled her aside, making conversation just for the sake of something to do, like all the elderly people she knew.

She’d told him where she was from when he’d asked, and he’d laughed—a jolly, chuckle of a laugh—because he’d grown up quite close to her town. He’d asked about her family and whether she missed them at Christmas time.

“I do miss them,” she’d said politely. She did; she wasn’t lying, but she really felt something other than homesickness, she felt emptiness at being in a home with a family that wasn’t hers when she really just wanted to have her own family. To her complete surprise, Walter had seen through her response.

“You’re a very sweet girl,” he said. “But I can tell something’s on your mind. I can also tell that missing your family isn’t what’s bothering you.” He shifted on the sofa, wiggling his right leg as if to get the circulation going. “But what do I know,” he smiled. “I’m just an old man.”

“I don’t know anyone in Virginia,” she admitted. “I’m new here.”

“Ah.” Walter didn’t say anything else, but he kept looking at her. It wasn’t a bothersome look; it was as if he expected her to say more, so, being thrilled to finally be able to speak to someone, she kept going.

“I don’t have any girlfriends to go out with,” she said. She didn’t want to say what she was really feeling: that she didn’t have any girlfriends at all, and even if she did, she had no time to go out with them, nor did they understand her. They didn’t know what it was like to care so much for someone else’s children that the thought of going out for herself seemed trivial. No one would ever understand that.

“I had a girlfriend whom I liked to go out with once,” he said, winking at her. There was something about Walter that could draw her right in, as if she’d known him her entire life. It was like talking to her own grandfather. Carrie’s grandfather, Pappy, had passed away almost a decade ago. That decade had seemed like a blip in time until she sat across from Walter. Being with him made the years without Pappy stretch into what seemed like a lifetime. She could remember the corduroy trousers he always wore, the buttoned shirts, the way he smelled—it had been so long since she’d had him near her. She remembered how he always kept a piece of candy in his pocket, and, even when she was a grown woman, he still had one for her—butterscotch in the gold wrapper. Watching Walter now, his genuine smile, the way the whites of his eyes had yellowed with age, just like Pappy’s, made her want to hold onto him, not ever get up from that sofa, because sitting there with him, she felt like she was with Pappy again.

“Her name was Beth,” Walter said, pulling her from her thoughts. She blinked, her eyes moist with memories. “Beth was the only girl I ever wanted to go out with. She had a laugh like warm apple pie, and she smelled like roses. It took me a year to get up the courage to ask her to the picture show, and I worried that she wouldn’t go, since it was dark in there, and she was quite the lady, but she went. I spent every day with her after that.” Walter wiggled his leg again. “Every single day until the good Lord wanted to have her back.” Carrie swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t even know Beth, but Walter’s loss was evident even through his smile. “I know what you mean is all,” he said. “I know what it’s like not to have any
girlfriends
to go out with.” He smiled a playful but knowing smile.

Carrie found out that the rest of Adam’s family, too, wasn’t much different from hers. They lived in a small town in rural North Carolina, and, like her, they enjoyed the little things in life. Walter kept a deck of cards in his back pocket for whenever he was bored. He pulled them out, and they’d played Rummy all evening. As they played cards, she had a chance to chat since the kids were in bed. It turned out that Adam’s sister, Sharon, had attended her college—they were two years apart—and she’d rented a beach house in Nags Head, only a street over from the one where Carrie had vacationed with her parents as a kid.

She’d delighted in the banter between Walter and his son, Bruce. Walter chattered about the World Wars and politics—topics that generally didn’t interest her—but he had a way of telling the stories that made her unable to pull herself away. Even when Joyce had asked her to help cook supper, she found herself leaning toward the table to hear what he was saying. Whenever Bruce would question him on a fact, he could twist it into a joke and make everyone laugh—even Sharon, who’d sat quietly most of the time except when she leaned over to Eric to say something. Every so often, though, laughter would rise up in her, and a little amusement would escape. Carrie knew, just by the few interactions she’d had, how close this family was, and she felt a twinge of sadness that Adam wasn’t there to share it. He’d chosen a lonesome desk in an office over this.

The thought kept coming to her, how differently she would have painted the family of Adam Fletcher. Why, with such an obviously normal, loving, middle class family, had he ended up the way he had—so driven to make money that he’d ignore everyone in his life? Was that why his wife had left him? Had she had enough of being alone? Carrie was in a very strange predicament: she’d never felt the need to fix or alter a situation involving a parent before. She’d known children who required her assistance in learning how to behave, but she’d never felt so strongly about helping another adult. She knew it wasn’t her place, but just like the children, underneath the behavior, she saw the potential—perhaps that was the reason for her need to make him a better parent.

Adam would probably be such a good, loving father. There had been moments—she’d seen them—where he’d pondered what she was saying, almost as if he were second-guessing his original thoughts. If she could just get him away from work long enough, maybe she could make him see. She worried about him missing out on everything; it bothered her. But then she thought about how she’d promised herself she wouldn’t get involved, especially after the last fiasco. It wasn’t her place no matter how much it kept her up at night. For now, at least
she
was enjoying his family, even if he wasn’t.

Joyce, having heard about the impending snowstorm, had stockpiled a ton of food in the camper, and Bruce had helped her unload it all earlier while Sharon and Eric took everyone’s bags to their rooms. So, when it came to supper time, Joyce set out cooking an extraordinary amount of food. Carrie was more than happy to help. She hadn’t had a chance to cook like that since she’d lived at home with her parents. On Christmas, they’d have a big, family dinner with her aunts and uncles, cousins, and grandparents. She and her mother would spend all day in the kitchen. She could still remember the sting of onions in her eyes and the smell of turkey in the oven as she helped her mother prepare supper.

As Joyce pivoted between the island and the counter, just like her own mother had, Carrie couldn’t help but feel excited. She was with people like her, she was happy. But just as quickly as the feeling came, it drained out of her and an emptiness took over. Even though she was enjoying herself, none of this was hers in any way, and it hit home that she didn’t have children of her own sleeping upstairs or a husband to share the evening with. This family barely knew her. She didn’t have a home where she could entertain her own parents, and although they’d been fine with having her away this Christmas, she suddenly missed them terribly.

A huge dish of bubbling macaroni and cheese baking in the oven sent a savory wave around the kitchen as they prepared the ingredients for the Brunswick stew. The garlic and onions were already in the pan with the butter, their flavors mixing in the air with the cheese.

“When the timer goes off, Carrie, pull out the mac and cheese so we can get that cornbread cooking,” Joyce said, her accent seeping out as thick as molasses, the more relaxed she became. She added the ingredients to the pot she’d pulled from Adam’s cabinet. It looked like it had never been used. Despite her feelings of loneliness, Carrie was relaxed. In fact, this was the most comfortable that she could remember being in a long time. These people spoke her language: they played with the children, they enjoyed each other’s company, and they liked good food. Cooking gave her something to do while she enjoyed these strangers. As she watched them all sitting at that giant table that had been so quiet with just her and Adam, she wondered why he’d only taken four days off.

Sharon set down a run of six cards and looked over at Eric under her lashes. “Top that,” she challenged him quietly.

“Hold on,” Bruce said. “I’ve got two hands here. I’m playing for Carrie while she helps Joyce. And Carrie has three sevens.” He set them down, and winked in her direction.

“Thank you,” Carrie said, smiling from across the kitchen, adding a little more cayenne to the Brunswick stew at Joyce’s suggestion. The timer went off, and with mitted hands, she pulled out the macaroni and cheese casserole. It had a brown crust at the edges just like her mother’s had. She set it on a mat on the island in the center of the kitchen and then put the cornbread in the oven.

Sharon had clicked on the light outside on the deck—an enormous wooden structure with levels and built-in seating. Carrie could only imagine the parties that Adam could have there in warmer weather. If he took the time. He’d made her feel awful at the tree lot, and she couldn’t get that out of her head, but there were other moments over the last two days when he’d been great. She was torn between wanting to understand him and wanting to yell at him. It was awfully early on, she decided, to have emotions this strong about him. She worried that by the end of her stay she’d either be head over heels or driving herself crazy with irritation.

“Carrie,” Walter said. “I’m sure there’s no shortage of beer in this house. Do you know where Adam keeps it? Bruce said he didn’t see any in the fridge.”

“He stores it in the garage. I’ll just go and get some. How many?” She looked around the room at the show of hands. There were four. After she’d offered, Carrie worried: she had no idea if she was even allowed to take beers from his refrigerator in the garage. She’d never had the need before. Already, his family had made her feel so at ease that she’d just offered as if it were her house. She wondered if she should send him a quick text just to ask.

As she opened the door to the garage, she knocked into Adam, nearly toppling them both over. “Oh!” she said in surprise as Adam grabbed onto her to steady them both. “Hi,” she said, her face only inches from his. She wriggled herself upright. The time she’d spent getting to know Adam’s family made him look a little different to her tonight. It was almost as if she could see the boy that he may have been, envision him in the big yard in North Carolina where he’d played as a child. She hadn’t realized until she’d met his family that his upbringing and hers were probably quite similar. They’d just turned into completely different adults. Seeing him sent a flutter through her stomach, and she fought with everything she had not to feel it. She knew she shouldn’t be feeling it—it was silly, childish. She barely knew him.

“Hi,” he said the corners of his mouth turning upward. “I see the family’s made it.”

“Yes. They want to drink your beer. Are they allowed?” she whispered dramatically. She felt like some sort of prohibition agent, guarding his loot, her eyes darting around so as not to offend anyone who may be in earshot.

He let out a big “Ha!” that nearly sent her tumbling backward. “Why wouldn’t they be able to? I think I would know where to get more,” he chuckled. He backed up and walked with her to the refrigerator. His laughter was addictive—she wanted to hear more of it. She thought back to the way he looked sitting at his huge desk in the office upstairs, his brows puckered, his lips pressed together in a serious expression. His face now was a stark contrast to that. To see all that stress lifted off of his face gave him a kind of familiarity—he was more casual—and she liked that. “It’s starting to snow again,” he said.

All the cooking, the warm glow of the Christmas lights, and having him home—it all made the idea of more snow seem perfect. She wished selfishly that the storm would dump so much snow that he wouldn’t be able to go into work. She was having such a lovely night with this family of strangers; she wanted him to be a part of it.

“Oh,” he said. “I brought you something.”

He’d brought
her
something? She smiled to conceal her surprise.

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out one Salty Shockoe bottle. The label was fancier with dark green holly and little red berries behind the words. “Since you were the designer, I thought I’d bring you your own bottle. No white space on this one,” he smiled, and her heart started hammering. Adam’s gesture was so unexpected that it floored her. He’d thought enough of Carrie to take time out of his busy schedule and do something nice for her. He’d focused on her and what she might like. As she looked at him now, his face was so attentive, so kind. When he did give her his undivided attention, it was as if they could talk all night. He was so conscientious, his eyes focused on her, his face set in a half smile while he listened to her. She hadn’t put her finger on it until then, but when he was in the present, he was really there. That’s what made the other side of him so hard to bear. Looking at him now, she wanted to know everything about him at once—what he liked, what he didn’t like, how he smiled after a good night out, whether or not he listened to music, what he did for fun—all of it.

“How many beers do we need?” he asked, his blue eyes on her. She took in a breath to try and get her thoughts straight.

“Four.”

“I’ll just get one of the six-packs,” he said, turning away and opening the fridge. Then, he stopped and said, “You know what? Let me just take a case inside. With everyone here, we’ll end up drinking it at some point.” A ray of hope tickled her insides. Would he finally put his phone down, sit at the table and play cards with his family? Would he kick back and have a beer? Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get back in there. She followed him to the kitchen, trying to keep her emotions in check. She could feel herself getting too involved with him and his family. This was a short-term arrangement, and she was moving on with her life once the kids went back to their mother in January. Best she not get too attached. The trouble was, she could already tell she would be.