Christmas, Actually

“Fruit?” Tessie’s show of disgust betrayed her. She wasn’t a forbearing saint or an adult. The child who didn’t care for healthy holiday goodies lingered inside her.

Sophie laughed, relieved to find a normal adolescent had survived her trauma.

“What do you like, Sophie?” Tessie smoothed her hospital sheet. “At our house, we dip strawberries in dark chocolate. And then we dip everything else we can find in the kitchen. Even bacon.”

A hint of morning sickness rattled Sophie. “Chocolate-covered cherries,” she said. “My mom gives me a beautiful box every year because her parents gave her one. The good ones with cordials and liqueurs, which I will not be enjoying this year.”

“That’s a waste of good chocolate. I’d take the fresh fruit over chocolate liqueurs.”

“Or bacon,” Jack said.

Tessie laughed. Sophie concentrated on not looking startled that he’d try to be funny with her in the room. But putting on a show might be his second best skill.

“You two are finicky,” he said. “I prefer those chocolate oranges my mom used to put in our stockings. You crack them against a table and they separate into slices. I could eat one of those now,” he said.

“I could eat anything.” Tessie sniffed the air. Out in the hall, the rattle of silver and serving trays predicted the arrival of lunch. “Except whatever they’re bringing me.”

“You’ll be out of here in twenty-four hours,” Jack said as Sophie realized she was still holding Tessie’s bottle. “In fact, you can talk your parents into taking another shift on the green tomorrow.”

“I will. I could help when the other cheerleaders do their shift, but I think my parents need me more right now.”

“Or you could do both. You know what they say about idle hands.”

“I know what my grandmother says,” she answered sharply.

“I guess you’re feeling more like yourself,” Jack said. “But please do as you’re told and rest today so you can work on the holiday decorations tomorrow. You’re a lucky girl, Tessie.”

“I know.”

The girl’s guilt touched Sophie. “You have to learn from this, but you don’t have to mourn surviving,” she said.

At the foot of the bed, Jack turned to her with a look of accusation on his face.

“Jack, I took a cab over here,” she said. “Mind giving me a ride back?”

He gave a reluctant nod. “Will you wait while I change out of my scrubs? Tessie, take it easy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t lose my card,” Sophie told her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

CHAPTER FIVE

SOPHIE WAITED NEAR the E.R. entrance. She felt a little light-headed as she searched for the words to ask Jack if his tours of duty in Afghanistan might be part of the problem between them. Between him and their unborn daughter.

She had so little time. Tact wouldn’t suffice.

He came out of the elevator, having traded his scrubs for jeans and a black sweater. He shrugged into his lined bomber jacket and met her at the doors, leaning down to speak to her.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me now, and we won’t have to ride back to the square together.”

“It’s going to take that long. Jack, I really need to talk to you.”

He looked at her with pity in his eyes. Poor little stalker ex. She can’t take a hint.

“Put up a wall,” she said. “You think if you’re rude enough I’ll back off?”

“What more do you need to know? I walked out without looking back.”

“That might have worked if we’d had some casual relationship, but we were friends for how long before it grew into something deeper?” Her patience dwindled and bitterness crept in. “Of course, you were lying to me about who you really are.”

“Knowing that, why are you still here?” He didn’t make the slightest effort to deny what she’d said, or defend his own actions.

“What happened to you in Afghanistan?”

Jack’s eyes instantly glazed in a convincing show of indifference. “Nothing happened.” He started for the physicians’ parking lot, and Sophie followed.

“Something did, and the fact that you can’t talk about it means you aren’t handling it on your own. I’ve seen the symptoms—cold sweats, a startle reflex at loud noises.

He opened the door. “You’re quite the diagnostician.”

“And the dreams? The fact that you reacted to Tessie’s mention of my baby? You’re still upset over the child in October, but you know you couldn’t save her.”

“I believed I could or I wouldn’t have done the surgery.” Jack unlocked his rusty blue truck. He’d told her about the vehicle before.

“This was your grandfather’s?”

He opened the door. “He gave it to me because I helped him work on it. I probably didn’t do as much as I remember.”

“But the memory makes you happy.”

“You’re a good nurse, Sophie, but you are not a psychologist, and I don’t need to be analyzed. I will not be creating memories with your child,” he said. But he couldn’t hide his unexpected confusion—an expression that made her look into his eyes the way she had before, when they’d cared for each other, when his gaze was a reminder that they were together among everyone else in the whole wide world.

Jack walked around to the driver’s side and got in, staring straight ahead while Sophie climbed in and put on her seat belt. “I abandoned you,” he said. “What kind of mother would risk having me in her baby’s life?”

“A mother who never had a father, but once believed with all her heart that her child’s dad was the most decent man she’d ever know.”

He didn’t answer. She’d been too honest. He probably thought she was making an argument to save their relationship.

At the square, Jack parked on a side street that wasn’t blocked off for holiday decorating.

They were walking toward the inn when he stopped. “There’s my sister.”

“Don’t worry,” Sophie said. “I won’t make trouble for you.”

A young woman with flying hair and a distracted, sweet smile paused in midstride, her arms full of wrapping paper, ribbon spools around her wrists like multihued bracelets.

“Callie,” Jack said, and his guard went down. His affection for his sister drew Sophie in his wake. “Who are you rescuing today?”

“I have a few gifts to wrap, and I’m preparing for choir practice.” Callie smiled at Sophie. “You must be the nurse from that car accident.”

“Sophie Palmer.” The name obviously meant nothing to Callie.

Sophie wished they could have known each other. Maybe if she’d been able to talk to Callie and Nick, they could have found a way to help Jack.

But at least they’d never have to know they were losing a niece. Sophie shook hands with Callie, ribbon spools and wrapping paper and all.

“I’m happy to meet you, but I’m about to drop all this.”

“Let me help you,” Jack said.

“If I hand you something, I’ll drop everything else. Are you working on the decorations on the green later?”

He nodded. More than ever, Sophie felt like an outsider.

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” Callie said. “I put a doll in your donation box on my way out of Dockery’s this morning, Jack.”

“Thanks. Callie,” he said, his tone deep and serious, “have you heard from Mom and Dad?”

“I got a text when they were in Yosemite.”

“Mom with the trees? I got that one, too.” He sounded wistful. He never allowed himself to sound like that in front of Sophie, likely thinking it made him seem weak, but she admired a man who could acknowledge his feelings. “Our parents are touring the country in an RV,” he said to Sophie as if she were a stranger and he was trying to include her in the conversation.

“Jack suggested a cruise to Hawaii,” Callie said, “but they wanted time all to themselves.”

“I thought Mom might like the chance to be pampered,” he said.

“When did you ever meet a Banning who could stand a steady diet of pampering?” his sister asked.

Jack tapped the wrapping paper tubes sticking over her shoulder. “I did have another text from them. They asked me if you were having fun, Callie. How many presents are you wrapping for your neighbors this year? If you won’t slow down and enjoy the holidays, Nick and I could help you.”

“I’m fine, Jack. I don’t suggest you stop helping where you can.”

He turned his face to Sophie’s, and she remembered every word they’d spoken to each other, each argument and each laugh. There was so much between them, but he’d never mentioned her to anyone he loved, and he’d given her only the barest bones of information about himself.

He maneuvered an arm around his sister’s shoulder. “I don’t do enough,” he said, and though his voice was teasing, he looked at Sophie with a trace of confusion, as if talking to his sister reminded him of the man he’d pretended to be with Sophie. Here, his heart seemed softer. He was less glib. He cared about the people who loved him, even as he tried to prove he didn’t care about Sophie or their baby.

She tried to steel herself, but she felt as if she were sinking through the snowy air, melting into the frozen sidewalk.

“I’m not like you and Nick, Callie.” Jack kissed the top of her head. “But I am trying to do the right things.”

His sister’s confusion made the situation more awkward.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Callie,” Sophie said. “And nice to see you, Jack. I think I’ll check out the construction.”

A stranger would naturally offer a brother and sister privacy. Sophie walked toward the green, where a wooden stage was being built. She stopped at the back of a slowly growing crowd.

The Jack she loved still lived inside that cold man, but she couldn’t allow herself to pretend the love they’d professed for each other had been real. She’d had enough of being rejected. No matter what his motivation, she deserved better. She just wanted to be sure how he felt about their child. Maybe if he knew he’d never have to deal with Sophie, he could be a good father to his daughter.

Standing at the white picket fence, Sophie glanced back as someone called a hello to Jack.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” a beautiful auburn-haired woman said as she shooed her two little boys toward the green. “We still have the same number. Call us so we can all catch up.”

Sophie turned away, trying not to hear his answer. She wanted that smile, the way he used to look at her as if she was all he needed to be happy. And yet, if he’d been so happy with her, why hadn’t he shared his life back home? They’d visited her mother, in D.C., many times. Why hadn’t he wanted Sophie to meet his friends and family?

Somewhere, deep inside, she must have known something was wrong. She’d pretended not to notice the nightmares and the panic he tried so desperately to hide. He wouldn’t talk about it, so what else could she do? She’d explained away his lack of connections, assuming it had something to do with his service.

But seeing him in the town square, she realized he’d never tried to live in both worlds. Her Jack had lived in this happy little Santa town, too. His neighbors and his family greeted him the way their colleagues in Boston had, with respect and warmth. No one would be that happy to see a man who abandoned his daughter. And he obviously didn’t want anyone from Boston tainting his life here in Christmas Town.

CHAPTER SIX

JACK WAS TACKING twinkly lights onto his Victorian porch when Fred Everly strolled along the sidewalk in oil-stained overalls and a peacoat with his company logo stitched on the back. Everly Body Works. Simple. To the point.

Jack got straight to it, as well.

“Fred,” he said, aiming his staple gun down as he leaned over the rail.

The other man turned. “Need a hand with that, Doc?”

“No, no. I’ve got it.” Jack set the gun and the strand of lights on the porch railing. “How’s work going? Are you busy in the run-up to the holidays?”

Fred grinned. “Is your granddad’s truck in danger of failing inspection?”

“I’m not sure why everyone acts as if my truck is likely to disintegrate in the middle of the road.” He stopped. Honesty was such a relief after lying or pretending, or just dancing around the truth, that he could go on about his truck for hours. “I wondered how you’re doing with that nurse’s car. From the wreck the other day? I happened to see her in Tessie’s room at the hospital, and I realized she’s stranded here.”

“I’m having some problems with a few of the parts, and some of my suppliers don’t push themselves so close to Christmas.”

Jack imagined Sophie waking on Christmas morning alone in the B and B, in a town where he’d never mentioned her name. No one even knew they’d been together.

He’d felt bad about that, with Callie treating her as a stranger. He’d been closer to Sophie, given more of himself, trusted her with more of his secrets than he had with anyone.

He’d tried to start a new life in Boston, and when that hadn’t worked, Christmas Town was waiting for him.

Why had he treated Sophie like that? And why hadn’t she exposed him when she’d realized Callie didn’t know about her? She had to be angry, but she’d said she wouldn’t make things worse for him.

“You will finish it in time?” Jack asked. “You know she did Tessie Blaylock a huge favor?”

“Saved her life, I hear,” Fred said, “but that doesn’t change my deliveries. I’m going to try, Doc, but it’s Christmas. She may need to rent a car, or maybe take the train or fly.”

“That’s not a bad plan. And then after the New Year, you’ll have her car ready and she can come back?”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised. Do you know her well enough to suggest she’d be happier doing that?” Fred asked.

“We talked a little today. I could speak to her about making the most of her holidays.”

“Good idea, Doc. I’ll suggest it, too.”

* * *

“CAREFUL OF THAT staple gun, Nurse Palmer.”

She whirled and shot a staple over his shoulder. Sophie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Jack, I’m sorry. I could have hurt you.” Her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m fine.” He eased the tool out of her hand, nevertheless. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not used to you talking to me.”

“I know.” He took up the holly she’d been stapling. “I’ve been brutal, but I wish you’d accept that I’m right.”

“I’m getting there.” She tugged at her hair, which was stuck in her collar. “You never meant for anyone here to know me. A man in love wouldn’t pretend the woman he cared for didn’t exist.”

“I should have told my sister and brother,” he said. Because Sophie did matter to him. She’d been his family when he couldn’t explain himself to Nick and Callie. “But maybe it’s best for everyone that I’ve behaved unfairly from the beginning.”

“You turn everything inside out.” She lifted the rope of holly attached to a thick strand of jute and subtle lights that would twinkle in the darkness. “But I promise not to shoot at you again.”

She’d already finished a long series of holly loops, which were wafting back and forth with the heavy breeze. “How did you end up manning the fences?” he asked.

“I had nothing else to do. Dr. Everly’s brother-in-law came to the B and B at lunch and told me my car might be delayed.”

Jack didn’t bother with subtlety. “Maybe you should let it go for now and come back after the holidays.”

“Rent a car from now until after the New Year? That’s crazy,” she said, and then understanding dawned. “You talked to him. You’re that desperate to get me out of here?”

“He passed by my house and we spoke. He said the car might take a while, and I suggested going home could be a good idea. Your mom would be glad to see you.”

“When did you become so comfortable, trying to manipulate me?”

“Maybe I’m tired of hurting you.”

Through the snowy afternoon’s green-gray light, he saw faces watching them.

Sophie turned to see what had caught his attention. The air wafted a dizzying scent around them—the fragrance of her shampoo. He had to be a desperate man, because that scent took him back to moments of closeness, his kiss in her hair, her whisper in his ear, feeling as if he belonged.

“People are watching us.”

Anger tightened her mouth, and he couldn’t help staring.

“Sophie,” he said, his throat aching, “I’m thinking of you. And your baby.”

“I don’t care.” She lifted her hands and did half a spin, as if inviting everyone in sight to join them. “I’ll be gone from here. You’ll be the one answering questions.”

“Why didn’t you tell my sister?”

Sophie’s lips softened again. Her mittened hand lifted as if she was going to touch him, but at the last moment, she drew it back. Then she turned to her work on the fence. Loop the holly, hit it with a staple. “I’m angry with you. If it were just me, I’d wallow in rage that you dumped me. I certainly wouldn’t have humiliated myself by coming here.”

“Why doesn’t the baby make you feel that even more strongly?”

“I told you. I don’t even know my father’s name. My mother would never tell me. We don’t talk about it anymore because we want to get along, and she’s been a supportive, wonderful mom.”

“And you think my name could change things for your child?”

“Our child.”

A compulsion to look down at her slightly rounded belly was difficult to resist. “Tell me.”

“You’ll always have a way to find her. When she’s old enough, she can look for you, and if you want to tell her to her face that she doesn’t matter, that’s your choice. She’ll have me to lean on, and I won’t have controlled her options, or made the decision for her.”

Jack saw that moment in his mind. A beautiful tall girl with his dark hair and Sophie’s blue eyes confronting him because he’d stayed out of her life.

“Jack, are you all right?”

He came out of the scene where he let down the one child who had a right to his loyalty. “I would’ve been if you’d stayed away. Why do you need her to be mine? I told you I’d be responsible for her.”

Sophie looked around them. No one was close. Hammering went on at the stage and power stapling rang out as if everyone on the green was doing target practice.

“Our baby girl deserves all the love both of us can give her.”

“You don’t understand.” He wanted to shout, to rip down the holly ropes, to persuade Sophie to give up this ridiculous fight and get out of his town.

“And you refuse to explain. But I have to be the best mom I can be, so I’m doing what I believe is right for my daughter. I’ve seen you with patients, with friends’ children. You’re gentle and kind. You talk to them as if they matter. You can give that to kids who walk out of your life the next second, but you can’t give yourself to your own daughter?”

“Now you understand. But you still haven’t explained why you didn’t tell my sister.”

“I don’t know what goes on when you’re like this.” Sophie gestured toward the perspiration that was cold at his temple. “But I do know my child will have family here, and I don’t want your sister to think badly of you.”

“I didn’t tell my family about you because I never planned to come back here.”

“What?” The word left her mouth in a whisper. She turned back to the fence and resumed working in silence. Jack followed. He could have walked away, but realized what he was doing to her.

He didn’t have enough courage to risk loving the baby they had made together. How could he do that when he was already fighting every day to be sane, to look normal because of another child?

“Why did you come back here after you left me?” She tugged more holly out of his tight grip. “I was so sad after you walked out, I would have screamed at the first jaunty caroler.”

“They don’t sing all year.” He couldn’t explain his need for familiar faces, for the love of his brother and sister, if he couldn’t have Sophie’s anymore.

“Sophie Palmer,” a man called out. Tessie’s cousin, Otto Taver, must have heard enough about Sophie to recognize her, a stranger helping out like a Christmas Townie.

Uncharacteristically shy, she nodded, stepping closer to Jack. Did she even realize she’d eased his way for support? He didn’t move. For this moment, he wouldn’t abandon her, even though Otto meant no harm.

“Just wanted to thank you.” The other man yanked off his thick gloves and shook her hand, hard. “Tessie’s my cousin. I hear she might have ended up in big trouble if not for you.”

“Thank you, but she only needed a tourniquet. Jack did the hard part.”

“That’s not true,” Jack said, unable to stop himself from putting the story straight. “That tourniquet saved Tessie’s life.”

“I’m glad you were there to tie it.” Otto shook her hand again and nodded at Jack. “Doc, good to see you.” He strode off, heading toward the stage with his tool bag.

Sophie pushed her hands into her coat pockets. “You were the one who saved her life,” she said.

“She wouldn’t have had a life to save if you hadn’t stopped her bleeding.”

“How do you manage their expectations?” she asked, looking around. “Don’t you know you could fail them, too?”

“I’m trying not to mess up.”

She was silent for a moment and then shivered. He took the stapler and balanced it on the fence. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“You shouldn’t let your core cool. Why don’t you head back to the B and B?”

“I’m fine if I keep moving.”

“Georgette told you to rest, didn’t she?”

“I haven’t been overdoing it.” Sophie’s low, intense tone and the pulse beating just above the collar of her coat dared him to express concern about the unborn infant he was so intent on abandoning.

“I’m not an animal,” he said. “I don’t want you or the baby to be at risk. I’ll walk you back to Esther’s.”

“I’m capable of walking by myself.”

“I’m walking with you, Sophie.”

She gave in. He handed the stapler to one of the other helpers and turned back toward Sophie.

She had already started across the green, but Jack caught up in a few steps. “Will you please consider taking Fred Everly’s advice and go home until your car’s ready?”

“Your advice.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“I’m not coming back here. When I leave, I’m gone for good.” She pushed ahead of him. “Which means your clock is ticking, Jack.”

He caught up again. “Stop running away.”

She turned to him, her hair flying in a gust of snow. “No one has ever made me as angry as you.”

Or as desperate. He saw it in her eyes. She needed to understand, and he’d never explained what had happened to him.

He watched the woman he’d loved desperately trying to avoid him, as if she couldn’t bear to share the same oxygen.

If he told her, maybe they’d find a way. Maybe she’d help him see his future in a different light. He started to reach for her shoulder, then stopped himself and let her add to the distance between them.

* * *

WHEN THEY REACHED the B and B, Sophie said goodbye over her shoulder as she ran up the salted steps and into the house, shutting the door behind her.

In the foyer, people were laughing, anticipating a late lunch or an early dinner. Sophie nodded at Esther as she took off her mittens and stuffed them into her coat pocket.

“Hungry?” her hostess asked.

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Do you want a menu to take to your room?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, thanks.”

She hurried up the stairs. She’d threatened Jack with a ticking clock, but she was the one who felt Big Ben banging out the passing quarter hours in the back of her head.

Inside her room, she sat with a sense of relief, suddenly understanding Jack’s ability to hide from the truth or the past, or whatever horrible moments had their claws in him.

Someone knocked on her door and she jumped. For a second, Sophie hoped. With all her heart, with all the foolishness of a pregnant woman who still cared too intensely for the man who’d left her.

But then she came to her senses and opened the door.

A uniformed policeman and a woman in a dark suit waited in the hall. The officer lifted his cap. “I’m Sergeant Reese. This is Celia Dane. She’s a probation officer with Christmas County. You may not remember me, but I was at the accident scene after Tessie Blaylock struck your car.”