A Family for Christmas (15 page)

She
went to the kitchen to get Ellie some cookies and hot chocolate afterwards,
feeling pretty proud of herself that she’d managed to get through the day
without breaking down or making a fool of herself.

After
a couple of days, she would feel better. Then her life could go back to the way
it had always been before.

She
was going to India. Her life had been set on that goal for so long. Nothing
that had happened in the last couple of months was going to change it.

“Lydia.”

She
almost jumped at the shock of hearing the low voice behind her. She obviously
knew who it was. She took a deep breath and kept counting out a few cookies
from the pack.

“Lydia,”
Gabe murmured again, coming over to stand very close to her.

Way
too close.

Lydia
turned to face him without really looking at him. “Yes?” Ellie was in the other
room, but she didn’t want there to be a chance that they were overheard.

“Are
you okay?” Gabe asked, his blue eyes searching her face.

Lydia
suddenly wanted to scream—in absolute frustration. How the hell did he expect
her to be okay, after what had happened this morning. She took another deep
breath, however, and managed to say calmly, “I’m fine. I told you that before.”

He
leaned in closer. “I’m sorry about everything. I don’t know… I mean, I didn’t
want to mess things up between us.”

With
great restraint, she managed not to say that he’d succeeded in doing so anyway.
She had no right to complain. Their marriage was exactly what they’d agreed on,
and she could hardly reproach him for that. “It’s fine. How many times do I
have to tell you?”

“But
it feels like it’s
not
fine.” He was big and warm and tense and right
there. His heavy-lidded eyes seemed to see far too much, all the way into her
heart, her soul. She couldn’t seem to get away from him.

“I’m
sorry.” Her voice broke, but she pushed through the ache in her throat. “But I
don’t know what you expect of me. You can’t have it both ways. I can’t be close
to you if you won’t let me be close to you. I’m okay with whatever you decide,
but you can’t expect it to be like it was before, when you’re the one who put
the barrier between us.”

He
stared at her, his eyes strangely agonized. “It’s not that easy,” he said at
last, his voice very thick.

“I
know it’s not. I know it’s not easy. And, you’re right, the easiest thing is
for us to not be close. It will be easier for us to just live our own lives—on
our own, except for what we originally agreed—so that’s what we’ll do.”

Lydia
pushed him back gently so she could get away, and then she carried the cookies
and mug back to the living room, where Ellie was waiting.

And
it was fine. It was all fine.

If
she repeated it often enough, maybe she could convince Gabe.

Maybe
she could convince herself too.

***

By the time she and Gabe
were sitting side by side at the Christmas Eve service that evening, Lydia was
about ready to crack.

She
couldn’t remember a harder day in her life—like every little thing she did was
stretching her beyond the boundaries of her being.

Gabe
felt like a stranger beside her, and all of it felt wrong to the core—like this
wasn’t really who they were, like it wasn’t who they were supposed to be. But
she kept telling herself it was what it was, and there was no use in trying to
change it.

Ellie
did a good job with her singing, and then she came back to sit on the other
side of Gabe in the pew. The rest of the service was readings and carols, and
they ended with the traditional candle-lighting as the congregation sang
Silent
Night
.

Lydia
had always loved the Christmas Eve service at this church, and she tried
desperately to focus on worship. Christmas wasn’t about her sham of a marriage,
and it wasn’t about what felt like a broken heart.

It
was about Jesus coming into the world to save it, to save her. She wrenched her
mind away from Gabe and Ellie so she could focus on the service.

But,
by the end, emotion was bleak and heavy in her throat, her chest, her eyes, and
she couldn’t even finish the final verse of
Silent Night
.

Gabe
hadn’t even tried to sing. She hadn’t looked at him once, but she was conscious
of every move he made. He stood beside her like a statue, staring down at the
hymnal he was holding low so Ellie could see the words too.

After
Daniel gave the benediction, Gabe reached out to pull her against him and
tilted his head to say in her ear, “Lydia.”

It
was obviously the beginning of a question, so she didn’t let him finish it. Her
body tensed up, keeping herself from touching him more than she had to.  She
couldn’t be so close to him. She was already too far stretched, and she
couldn’t take anything more. “I said I’m fine,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare
ask me again.”

“I
wasn’t—”

“Go
ahead and take Ellie home,” she said, trying not to look at him, even as she
was speaking into his ear. “I’ll get Thomas to take me back. He’s on his own,
so I don’t want him to feel lonely.” It was true, but it was a flimsy excuse.
Gabe would obviously know the pretext for what it was.

“Lydia.”
Gabe’s body was so tense he was almost shaking with it.

“I’m
sorry. You can’t have it both ways, and you need to give me a little time. I’m
sorry.” She pulled away from him and leaned down to give Ellie a hug, telling
the girl she’d done a wonderful job with her singing and she’d see her at home.

Ellie
looked a little worried, but Lydia couldn’t help that.

She
couldn’t seem to help anything. She just wanted this damned day to be over at
last.

She
went to the restroom to kill some time, and she was relieved when Gabe and
Ellie were gone by the time she came out.

Then
she talked some with her parents, trying desperately to act cheerful, and she finally
went to find Thomas, who was sitting on the stoop outside the back door of the
church.

It
was chilly and clear outside, the moon and stars very bright. Lydia sat down
next to him, even though the concrete was cold and uncomfortable.

He
gave her a wry smile. “So what’s going on?”

“What
do you mean?”

“I’m
sure it’s possible you feel sorry for me, since I can’t spend Christmas with my
wife and daughter—”

“I
don’t feel sor—”

“But
that’s not why you didn’t go home with your own family tonight.” His green eyes
had always been deep and clever, but right now they seemed unnaturally
experienced, almost weary from it.

Lydia
let out a sigh, fighting that same ache in her chest and lump in her gut.
“They’re not really my family.
You’re
my family.”

He
gave her a sharp look. “They’re your family now. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.
I mean, nothing important.” The breeze against her face was brisk and biting,
but she was chilled for a different reason, like a fire somewhere inside her
had gone out.

“Gabe
and Ellie are very important.”

“I
know. I didn’t mean that. It’s just that…”

“Just
that what?”

She
blew out a long sigh. “Things never work out the way they’re supposed to, do
they?”

“No.
They never do.” He studied her face. “What happened?”

She
wasn’t sure how to answer the question, but she tried—as always—to be honest.
“It’s a complicated situation. My marriage, I mean. And I’m trying to do the
right thing. But I guess the right thing doesn’t
feel
like the right
thing.”

“I
don’t know what that means.”

“I
know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just want to do the right thing.”

“Well,
that’s easy.” Thomas turned his head to stare down at the pavement of the
parking lot. “You love them.
That’s
the right thing.”

For
some reason, the words hurt so much she almost shook with it. “It’s not that
easy.”

“I
didn’t say it was easy. Anyone who says that loving someone else is easy has
never really done it. It’s not easy. It’s
right
.” He turned back to look
at her, suddenly urgent. “Believe me. What’s easy is being selfish. What’s easy
is trashing your marriage. That’s the easiest thing to do, and then you’ve made
mistakes that just can’t be taken back.”

Thomas
had never talked to her—to anyone—about what had happened with his marriage,
and Lydia was suddenly distracted from her own grief and confusion by a wave of
intense sympathy. “Thomas, you didn’t—”

“I
didn’t cheat on her. I never cheated. I never even wanted to. But there are
plenty of other ways to trash your marriage. And then it’s like moving a
mountain, trying to fix things. Trying to mend the hurt you’ve caused. And some
things just can’t be fixed. Can’t be mended.”

“I’m
so sorry,” she murmured, her voice cracking. “You still love her?”

“Of
course, I still love her. But she doesn’t trust me, and I can hardly blame her
for that.”

“Shit.”
She reached out to squeeze his arm.

“Yeah.
But the point is not to feel sorry for me. The point is to not do the same
thing. Whatever happened, go back home and try to fix it, while it can still be
fixed.”

“That
sounds like good advice.” The voice surprised both of them, coming from behind
them. They turned to see Daniel, who had evidently come out the back door.

“Sorry,”
Daniel said, stepping down to the pavement and lowering himself to sit beside
them on the stoop. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I only heard the end of it,
anyway.”

“It’s
fine.” She smiled at Daniel, who was a good man and a wise man and a friend.
“I’m just having some marriage problems, and Thomas was trying to help.”

“Despite
the appalling irony of my helping anyone with their marriage,” Thomas added.

Daniel
gave them a faint smile. “For what it’s worth, I did a pretty good job trying
to trash my marriage too, and it’s only grace that I didn’t succeed.”

Lydia
chuckled. “Thanks for saying that, but I don’t believe you for a moment.”

Daniel
and Jessica had the kind of marriage she’d never imagined she could have. Only
lately—only just recently—had she started to want that kind of marriage, but
she’d been right all along about it never being intended for her.

She
slumped, suddenly overwhelmed by how terrible it felt. That she could never
have that kind of marriage with Gabe.

“It’s
fine,” she said, as if someone else had spoken. “It’s okay. It doesn’t really
matter. I’ll do the best I can, but I’ll be heading to India this summer.
That’s what’s important to me.”

She
was speaking mostly to herself, and she probably wouldn’t have said it out loud
if she’d thought about it, if she’d had her normal emotional barriers intact.

But
there was a strange tense silence that followed, as if the men had heard her,
were silently responding to the words.

Before
anyone could say anything, Jessica came out the door, smiling and very
pregnant, and Daniel stood up.

“There
you are,” Jessica said, taking Daniel’s arm. “I was about to leave and make you
run all the way home again”

Lydia
was faintly interested in the “again”—wondering when Jessica had made Daniel
run home in the first place—but there was too much else going on in her mind
for her to worry about it.

Daniel
tilted his head to kiss his wife, but then he turned back to look down at
Lydia. “You know, God didn’t save the world with a magic wand.”

She
blinked at him. “What?”

“He
didn’t save the world with a magic wand,” Daniel repeated, his voice taking on
a powerful sort of gravity, even though it was still soft. “He could have, but
he didn’t. He was born a baby. Think about what that means. What do you think
we were doing in there tonight?” He nodded toward the church building.

Lydia
shook her head, feeling helpless, so sad. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“He
took on flesh. He took
our
flesh. He lived our life. He breathed our
breath.” Daniel’s brown eyes held hers without wavering. “He ate bread, and he
drank wine, and he built things with iron and wood.”

She
stared at him, feeling breathless, like something really important was about to
happen.

“And
he laughed when it was a funny, and he cried when it hurt. And he kissed and
hugged the people he loved. He bled when he died.” Daniel paused to take a
breath. “He took on flesh, Lydia. He
lived
for thirty years before he
started to preach. Think about what that means. And then tell me that living
your life—right now, every day—doesn’t really matter. That loving your husband
and that girl who is now your daughter isn’t really that important.”