Kisses on Her Christmas List

“We do. We play lots of games. But we also bake cookies.”

Finley didn’t even glance up. Happily involved in her blueberry pancake, she ignored them.

Rory said, “I love cookies.”

“These are special cookies. They’re sugar cookies that I cut into shapes and then paint.”

“Paint?”

“With icing. I put colored icing on houses, churches, bells—”

Finley glanced up sharply. “You mean Christmas bells.”

Shannon winced. “Well, yes. I’m baking cookies for my family when we celebrate Christmas next week. But it’s still fun—”

“I hate Christmas!”

This was the third time Finley had said she hated Christmas. It wasn’t merely part of a tantrum or even a way to manipulate people. This little girl really didn’t like Christmas.

“Okay. So instead of baking cookies, how about if we play cards?”

“I thought we were leaving.”

Rory set his hand on top of Finley’s. “I’d like to leave. But I have to check to see if the roads are open. There’s a good possibility that we’re stranded here for another few hours, maybe even another day.”

Finley sighed heavily, like a billion-dollar heiress who’d just received bad news, and who would, at any second, explode. Shannon found herself holding her breath, waiting for Finley’s reply. Which was ridiculous. The kid was six. The weather wasn’t anybody’s fault. She was stuck and that was that.

Setting her fork on her plate, Shannon rose and said, “While I go to my room to check on the roads and call my staff, you drink your milk and finish your breakfast. Then we’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher and we’ll play Go Fish.”

Finley’s eyes narrowed and her mouth formed the upside-down U again. But Shannon ignored her. From her peripheral vision she watched Finley glare at her dad.

Without looking at her, Rory said, “I haven’t played Go Fish in years. I’m not sure I remember the rules.”

“It’s an easy game, Daddy.”

“Good. Then I should catch on quickly.”

Shannon took her plate to the sink. “Or maybe she’ll beat you.”

That brought a light to Finley’s eyes. When Shannon returned from checking the road conditions on the internet, calling her staff to say she wasn’t opening the store and calling the radio stations to alert the community that the store would be closed again, she returned to the kitchen. Finley eagerly helped clear the table, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and rifled through a kitchen drawer for a deck of cards.

“I had to close the store.”

Rory held up his cell phone. “I figured. I checked the road conditions. Nothing’s really open. Customers can’t get there anyway.”

As Finley approached the table with the cards, Shannon said, “So we’ll have some fun.”

Pulling a chair away from the round kitchen table, Rory said, “Yes, we will. Right, Finley?”

Finley sighed and shrugged, but also pulled out a chair and sat.

Shannon noticed that Rory more or less let Finley win the first game, so she went along, too. But when Rory handily won the second game, Shannon didn’t think it was out of line to play the third game without deference to Finley. But when she won, Finley exploded.

“You cheated!”

Shannon laughed. “No. Cheating takes all the sport out of a game. There’s no fun in winning if you haven’t really won.”

“I don’t care!” She swung her arm across the table, sending cards flying. But before her hand could slow down, she also thwacked her milk. The glass went airborne and landed on the floor. Sticky white milk poured everywhere.

Mortally embarrassed by Finley’s outburst, Rory bounced from the table. “Finley!”

Finley bounced off her chair and raced to the kitchen door. “I hate you!”

The swinging door slammed closed when she flew through it.

Shannon rose and grabbed the paper towels. “Sorry. I should have let her win again.”

Rory rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No. We were playing a game. She knows she can’t win every time.” He rubbed his neck again. He’d only ever told his parents about the trouble in his marriage and he certainly hadn’t intended to tell Shannon because, technically, they didn’t really know each other. But deep down Finley was a sweet little girl who deserved defending.

He fell to his seat again. “Finley’s behavior isn’t the fault of a confused six-year-old, but a mom who abandoned her.”

Using a paper towel to sop up the milk, Shannon said, “What?”

“Her mom,” Rory said, not quite sure how to broach this subject because he hadn’t spoken with anyone about his ex. So he had no practice, no frame of reference for what to say.

He lifted his eyes until he could catch Shannon’s gaze. “Finley’s mom left us two years ago on Christmas day.”

Shannon took the wet paper towels to the trash. Confusion laced her voice when she said, “Your ex left you on Christmas day?”

“Yeah, that’s why Finley’s sensitive about Christmas. But what’s worse is that her mom doesn’t want to see her at all. She doesn’t like kids. Didn’t want kids.”

Shannon returned to the table and fell to her chair, trying to force all that to sink in but not quite able to comprehend. She’d spent her entire adult life attempting to get pregnant, longing for a child, and Finley’s mom had left her without a backward glance?

“My ex never did anything she didn’t want to do.” He rose from the chair, pushed it out of his way and stooped to pick up the scattered cards.

“That’s amazing.”

He shrugged, but his pinched expression told her he wasn’t so cavalier about it. “She’d said at the outset of our marriage that she didn’t want kids.” Finished gathering the cards, he rose. “Her getting pregnant was a surprise, but I thought we were ready. Turns out she wasn’t.”

Shannon sat in stunned silence. Rory’s wife had abandoned her daughter? Disbelief thundered through her, along with a sense of injustice. While she’d do anything, give anything, to be able to have a child, Finley’s mom had simply abandoned one?

How could a woman be so cruel?

CHAPTER THREE

RORY NEATLY STACKED the cards on the table. “I need to check on her.”

“Okay. I’ll start lunch.”

As she had the night before, Shannon made soup and sandwiches. This time, she chose chicken soup—a soup with not even a red vegetable in it—and prepared a plate of cold cuts and some bread.

Finley walked into the kitchen in front of her dad, who had both hands on her little shoulders. Looking at the floor, she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

Shannon’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t think it was appropriate to say, “Hey, it’s not your fault. Your mom’s a horrible woman who shouldn’t have left you.” So, instead, she said, “That’s okay. I didn’t make red soup today.”

Finley peeked at her. “You didn’t?”

“No. I made chicken noodle.”

“I like chicken noodle.”

“So do I.”

Rory got bowls from the cupboard and he and Finley set them on the place mats Shannon had already put out. Finley found soup spoons. Shannon set the cold cuts on the table. Everybody did everything without saying a word.

Shannon felt oddly responsible. Should she have tried to lose at the card game? Should she have reacted differently to the cheating accusation? She honestly didn’t know. But she did know Finley deserved a bit of happiness and if she could, she intended to provide it.

She sucked in a breath. “You know…I still have a few sleds from when my dad and I used to slide down Parker’s Hill when I was a little girl.”

Finley’s face instantly brightened. “Really?”

“There’s a bit of a hill behind this house. I never tried it out for sledding because I just moved here last year, but I’m guessing there might be a place we could sled-ride.”

This time Rory said, “Really?”

“Sure. It would be fun. Even if we can’t go sledding, getting outside for some fresh air would do us all good.”

Rory inclined his head. “Maybe.” He faced his daughter. “What do you think?”

“I’d like to sled-ride.”

“And we will if we can,” Shannon quickly assured her. “As I said, I’ve never checked out that hill.”

“I don’t have snow pants.”

“You can wear two pair of jeans,” Rory suggested.

“And we’ll put them in the dryer as soon as we come inside, so they’ll be good for tomorrow morning.”

The mood clearing the lunch dishes improved significantly from the mood when setting out those same dishes. Finley hurriedly dressed in the multiple jeans and double sweaters. Shannon found a pair of mittens to put over Finley’s tiny multicolored striped gloves.

When Finley was ready, Shannon quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and two sweaters. She put her dad’s old parka over herself and used insulated gloves for her hands.

They stepped outside onto the back porch and the glare off the snow almost blinded them.

“Wow. It’s beautiful.”

Shannon glanced around proudly at the snow-covered fir trees that surrounded her little home. “Yes. It is. I loved living in South Carolina—close to the beach,” she added, slanting a look at Rory. “But this is home. As annoying as snow is, it is also beautiful.”

They trudged from the house to the shed behind the garage and found an old sled and two red saucer sleds. Shannon and Finley took the saucers and Rory hoisted the bigger runner sled off its hook and followed them out, into the bright sunshine again.

Again they trudged through the snow, walking the twenty or thirty feet from the outbuilding to the dip behind the house.

“There are trees.”

Shannon glanced at Rory. “I know. That’s why I couldn’t say for sure we could sled. Without a wide path between the trees, there’d be too much chance we’d hit one and somebody could be hurt.”

He walked fifty feet to the left. “Too many trees this way.” Then fifty feet to the right. “I found something!” he called, motioning for Shannon and Finley to come over. “There’s a perfect space right here.”

The “hill” was more of a slope. It eased down nicely for about thirty feet. A wide ledge would stop them before they reached what looked to be a bigger hill. Still, given that Finley was only six, Shannon didn’t think they should try to go beyond the ledge.

She tossed her saucer to the snow. “I’m ready.”

Finley followed suit. “I’m ready, too.”

They plopped onto their saucers, scooted a bit to get them going then careened down the hill. Finley’s squealing giggles filled the quiet air. Hearing her, Shannon laughed. They flew down the slope and, as predicted, their saucers ran out of steam on the ledge.

Finley bounced up. “Let’s go again!” She grabbed her saucer and started up the hill.

“Walk along the side!” Shannon called. “We don’t want to make our slope bumpy from footprints.”

To Shannon’s complete amazement, Finley said, “Okay!” and moved to the side of the hill.

When they reached the top, Rory said, “Okay, everybody out of my way. I’m taking this puppy for a ride.”

He threw the runner sled onto the snow and landed on top of it, sending it racing down the hill. He hit the ledge, but his sled didn’t stop. The ledge didn’t even slow the sleek runners. Smooth and thin, they whizzed across the ledge as if it were nothing. In seconds Rory and his sled headed down the bigger hill and disappeared.

Finley screamed.

Thinking she was terrified, Shannon spun to face her, but the little girl’s face glowed with laughter. Shannon’s lips twitched. Then she burst out laughing, too.

“Do you think we’ll ever see him again?”

Finley’s giggles multiplied. “How far down does the hill go?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been back that far.”

The world around them grew silent. Now that the fun of seeing him disappear was over, Shannon’s tummy tugged with concern. As fast as he was going, he could have hit a tree. He could be at the bottom of the hill, unconscious.

“We better go check on him.”

“Can we ride our sleds down to the ledge?”

Shannon laughed and patted Finley’s head. Kids really had no comprehension of danger. But before she could reply, Rory called, “I’m okay!”

His voice echoed in the silence around them. But knowing he was fine, Shannon tossed her saucer to the ground. “Race you to the ledge.”

Finley positioned her sled and jumped on. They squealed with laughter as they sped down the hill. On the ledge, both popped off their sleds, ran to the edge and peered over. At least fifty feet below, Rory dragged his sled up the hill.

He waved.

Finley waved. “Hi, Daddy!” Then she glanced around when her voice echoed around her. “That is so cool.”

“It’s a cool place.” She turned Finley toward the top of the hill again. “I’ll bet we can sled down twice before your dad gets to the ledge.”

Finley grabbed her sled. “Okay!”

They raced down another two times before Rory finally joined them on the ledge. “That was some ride.”

Shannon peered over the edge. A reasonably wide strip wound between the rows of trees, but the hill itself was steep and long. “I’ll bet it was.”

He offered the runner sled to her. “Wanna try?”

She laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Hey, sledding was your idea. I thought you were a pro.”

“I haven’t really gone sledding in years—”

Before she could finish her sentence Rory tossed the sled to the ground and punched into her like a line-backer. She fell on the sled. He fell on top of her and they took off down the hill. For several seconds she had no breath. When she finally caught a gulp of air, she screamed. Really screamed. But soon her screams of fear became screams of delight. The thrill of the speed whooshed through her. The wind whipping across her face felt glorious.

They hit the bottom with a thump.

Obviously paying attention to the grove of trees ahead of them, Rory banked left, toppling the sled to a stop. She rolled on the ground. He rolled beside her.

She turned her head to face him; he turned to face her and they burst out laughing.

Finley’s little voice echoed down the hill. “Me next, Daddy!”

He bounced up and held his hand out to Shannon, helping her up.

“That was amazing.”

He picked up the sled. “I know. It was like being a kid again. Fun. Free.” Holding the sled with one hand, he looped his other arm across her shoulders. “Now we have to trudge about fifty feet up a hill.”

She laughed, but her insides tickled. Even working at the store, she’d been nothing but lonely in the past year. Not because she didn’t have friends. She did. Lots of them. Not because she missed her husband. Any man who’d desert a woman the day she had a hysterectomy was an ass. But because she’d missed belonging. With Rory and Finley she felt as if she belonged.

She sucked in a breath, erasing that thought. These two would be with her for one more day—well, one evening and one night. Maybe breakfast in the morning. She couldn’t get attached to them.

Still, when they reached the top and found Finley bouncing with delight, happiness filled her again. Finley was a sweet little girl who deserved some fun. Maybe even a break from the reality of her life—that her mom didn’t want her.

Rory scooped her off the ground and fell with her onto the sled. The weight of their bodies set the sled in motion and it slid down the little slope. Shannon fell to her own sled and careened behind them so she could jump off when she reached the ledge and watch them as they whipped down the bigger hill.

Finley’s squeals of pleasure echoed through the forest. Shannon’s chest puffed out with pride. She’d thought of the idea that had turned a potentially dismal afternoon into an afternoon of joy.

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