Single Dad in Her Stocking Page 10

  Shocked, Emma remained silent as Max came to sit down in his father’s chair, between her end of the couch and the odd-looking Christmas tree.

  ‘You didn’t see me,’ he continued quietly. ‘And I wanted to try and make you smile again because I knew why you had been crying.’

  Emma swallowed hard. ‘Did you?’

  ‘It was the day that little boy died. I’ve forgotten his name. The one who had such a severe case of hypoplastic left ventricle syndrome that the only way to save him would have been a heart transplant. We had just put a PICC line in a few days earlier to give him medication for his heart failure but it hadn’t been enough and you’d been there when he—’

  ‘Tyler,’ Emma interrupted. ‘His name was Tyler.’

  ‘He was special to you.’

  More than special. Emma had been totally in love with that ten-month-old baby who had a smile that lit up the room, despite how sick he was.

  ‘He changed my life,’ she whispered. ‘More than you would believe.’

  Max was giving her that look again. The one that made her feel as if he was seeing her properly for the first time. The one that made her feel as if she was the only person in the world that mattered at this very moment in time.

  ‘I knew something big had changed the moment I saw you again in the Royal.’ Max hadn’t even blinked as he held her gaze. ‘It took a while to recognise you. But what did it have to do with Tyler?’

  Emma took a sip of her wine. And then another. This wasn’t something she talked about. Or even thought about very much if she could help it. It was well in the past now and she was moving on as best she could. But Max’s life had just changed as monumentally as Emma’s had all those years ago and that gave them a new connection. That fragile new trust was still there as well, and trust always deserved a chance to be nurtured. She would be trusting him with an important part of her own heart if she did tell him her story but there was something in those astonishingly blue eyes that made her feel safe. That said she mattered enough to make her story important. Vital, even...

  ‘I got pregnant,’ she admitted. ‘A few years after we worked together on that paediatric rotation.’

  That didn’t seem to surprise Max. ‘We all knew you were destined for motherhood,’ he said. ‘You just loved being with those babies on the paediatric ward so much. Did you get married, then?’

  ‘No. But I was with the person I believed I was going to marry. A paediatric surgeon called Richard. The pregnancy killed our relationship completely.’

  ‘He didn’t want children?’

  ‘Oh, he wanted children. That baby wasn’t going to be one of them, though. It became obvious during my second trimester scan that she wasn’t going to survive. She was anencephalic.’

  ‘Oh, my God...’ Max drained his glass. ‘I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard to have had to choose a termination at a late stage like that.’

  ‘But I didn’t.’ Emma’s voice was little more than a whisper. ‘That was the problem. Richard wanted to get rid of the problem as fast as possible but I chose to carry my baby until she was due to be born. Because of Tyler.’

  The pain was still there, wasn’t it? The sense of betrayal. That someone who’d said they loved her wasn’t prepared to support her in a challenge that was always going to be heartbreaking but felt important enough to be something she had to do in order to be true to herself.

  Max was still staring at her so she could see the moment that comprehension dawned. His jaw visibly dropped. ‘You carried a baby that you knew could never survive so that she could be a donor for babies like Tyler?’

  Emma nodded, blinking hard to make sure she didn’t let any tears escape. ‘I thought I knew what I was doing. That it wouldn’t be as hard as it turned out to be. Losing my relationship because of my choice made it harder, but, in a way, that was probably a good thing because it became obvious that we were too different to ever be happy together.’ Emma drew in a shaky breath. ‘What broke my heart even more was that she was born on Christmas Day. She only lived for a few hours.’ Emma had to swipe away a tear that she hadn’t fought off. ‘I called her Holly.’

  Max said nothing. He got up and went to the sideboard to pour himself another drink from the cut glass decanter. He stood there looking down at the amber liquid as he swirled it in his glass for a long time before he looked up at Emma. It was a look that went straight to her heart and she could feel its intensity in every cell of her body. This wasn’t sexual in any way. It was respect. Admiration. Something that felt as if it was wrapping the threads of the connection they already had in a material that was strong enough to be impermeable.

  ‘You’re amazing, Em,’ he told her. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

  Emma shrugged off what seemed to be an over-the-top compliment, even if it was one that made her feel truly proud of the choice she had made. ‘If I hadn’t known Tyler maybe I would have made different choices. I might still be a paediatrician instead of a locum. I might be married to Richard and have had three more children and be spending my Christmases in Italy so that they could play with all their cousins...’

  But Max was shaking his head. ‘I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said. ‘If this Richard couldn’t support your choice to do such an incredibly brave and selfless thing then he wasn’t someone you would have wanted to spend the rest of your life with, believe me.’

  Emma blinked. He thought she was brave? Selfless? Amazing, even...? Would he have supported that choice? She had the feeling that he would have and that sparked something that was even more powerful than any physical attraction she was aware of for Max Cunningham. Stronger than friendship, in fact. You could fall in love with a man who could support you to do the really difficult things in life.

  More than a little shocked by the thought, Emma had to break any eye contact with Max. Fortunately, she had an excuse to move because she’d just noticed that the bow in the string of the star Ben had tried so hard to attach to the tree had come undone and the star was on the floor. She stooped to pick it up and reattach it.

  ‘I can’t imagine how hard that Christmas Day must have been for you,’ Max said, moments later. ‘I’m really sorry you had to go through that alone.’

  His voice was unexpectedly close as Emma straightened up from tying the string, so she wasn’t really surprised to find that Max had moved to come and stand beside her. Her body seemed to be startled, however, because it was waking up with an acute awareness of his proximity that was so powerful it was actually painful. More like a stabbing sensation than any pleasant tingle.

  ‘I knew it was coming. I knew I’d be able to cope even though it was hard. And...there was a kind of joy to be found there, as well, knowing that other babies were going to get to go home because of what Holly could give them. One like Tyler, even, who got a heart that was going to work. And, later, I heard that her kidneys had been used...and her liver...’

  Emma’s voice trailed away. It was still such a bittersweet balance to think about, let alone say aloud. She cleared her throat. ‘You’ve had Christmas Days that were just as tough,’ she added. ‘Losing your brother last year. Losing your mum when you were so young. That must have cast a shadow over every Christmas since then.’

  ‘We just didn’t do Christmas,’ Max agreed. ‘And that’s why this is so hard for my dad.’

  It wasn’t just hard for James, though. This was just as hard for Max. A part of him had to be missing his mother all over again as he watched Ben and Tilly and Alice struggle to adapt to their new family. And was this year the first he’d ever put up a Christmas tree? Given the way he’d dismissed the whole seasonal celebration as ‘commercial hype’, she suspected that he had always avoided anything to do with trees or decorations. She also suspected that his avoidance had far more to do with grief than anything else. It gave them another connection but it felt different to her own experience of grief.
Max’s had started so long ago, when he was no more than a boy and, looking at it from the point of view of an outsider, Emma could see how sad it was. That a father and his sons had been so lost and there clearly hadn’t been anyone to help them through their grief. They probably believed they could never change how they felt about Christmas, but how sad would it be if their aversion to celebrating was transferred to yet another generation?

  Emma wished there was something she could do to help because this was a lot bigger than her own sadness that was associated with Christmas. This was all to do with three innocent children.

  ‘Do you think he can cope?’ she asked. She was referring to James but she held Max’s gaze in the hope that he would realise she was asking about his own ability to manage an emotionally difficult situation.

  ‘He’ll have to,’ Max said—and he could have been speaking for both his father and himself. ‘The children are here to stay and...well...it would appear that there are rules when it comes to Christmas.’

  Emma smiled. ‘There are rules,’ she said. ‘And I expect Ben knows them all.’

  Max was smiling back at her. A small smile that grew. And then grew a bit more.

  ‘What?’ she asked. ‘What’s funny?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Max said. ‘I’m just pleased to see you smile. The last time I wanted to make that happen for you I had to kiss you.’

  Emma could feel her own smile fading. The mention of that kiss again made the intense subject of their recent conversation start to fade instantly into the background and then it hung in the air between them.

  Like a suggestion. As if they were both wondering what it would be like to do it again. As if they were both realising that perhaps they really wanted to do it again. They were standing so close together it wouldn’t take much for one of them to move and if they held this eye contact any longer, that was what was going to happen. One of them would move and then Max would bend his head or Emma would stand on her tiptoes and they wouldn’t need any mistletoe because they didn’t need any reason to kiss other than that they were two single adults who happened to be attracted to each other. Possibly seriously attracted...

  In that split second of time, however, as the ghost of their first kiss pulled them together like the most powerful magnet imaginable, a sound broke the moment. A crackle of sound that was coming from the handset of the baby monitor as Alice woke and began to cry.

  ‘I’d better go and get her.’ But Max seemed reluctant to move.

  Emma opened her mouth to offer to help but no words came out because her thoughts were moving so fast they were getting tangled. Warning bells were ringing very loudly as she remembered the moment earlier this evening when that old longing for her own family had resurfaced. She couldn’t afford—and didn’t want—to get any closer to these children herself than she already was. And what about that moment when she’d realised how easy it would be to fall in love with Max? That should be enough to send her running all on its own because what she remembered most about this man was that he was a playboy. He’d never had the slightest interest in a relationship that was anything more than fun. Short term fun.

  But it wasn’t just the three bereaved children upstairs that Emma was thinking about right now. It was the two small boys who had lost their own mother decades ago and whose father must have been too wrapped up in his own grief to be able to know what to do and the end result was that they didn’t know how to ‘do Christmas’ any more. Somehow, they needed to get past the ghosts of past Christmas tragedies, but that might not be possible without help from someone who hadn’t been a part of that past.

  Someone like Emma, who could understand how difficult it was but could also see how important it was for the sake of the children. She could do that if she was brave enough. The safe thing to do would be to remove herself from this house—to stay away from any more reminders of what was missing from her own life and away from the increasing pull she was feeling towards Max, but if she didn’t run away—if she stayed here and helped both the Cunningham men and the children—it could be the foundation for a new family to form and bond. For a new life to be possible.

  That would be a real gift, wouldn’t it?

  Not totally dissimilar to the choice she’d made more than five years ago, to do something hard in order to make new life possible for others. Max thought she was amazing for doing that.

  Maybe she wanted him to think she was still amazing?

  Emma took a deep breath. ‘You go and get Alice,’ she told Max. ‘I’ll get a bottle ready for you but then I really need to have a shower and get some sleep. I’ve got another early start tomorrow.’

  Max still hadn’t quite moved. ‘And tomorrow?’ he asked quietly. ‘Will you come back here after work and help us put some more decorations on our tree?’

  Oh...the warmth in those eyes. A mix of the new trust between them that had grown considerably this evening, shared memories of the past and the remnants of a kiss that hadn’t quite happened. And behind what was there between herself and Max, Emma was aware of the needs of others. Of three children who badly needed something special to make them feel safe. Of a sad older man who was still suffering because his memories of Christmas were too painful. What James needed, as well as Max, was to be able to trust in family enough to open their hearts again. Emma could understand exactly why they had shut themselves off but she could also see how much better life would be if they could let go of the past and embrace a new future. And, if she could help them do that, she would be helping herself at the same time. She hadn’t actually celebrated Christmas in any meaningful way herself since the day Holly had been born and died.

  Maybe fate had brought her here because it was time for a new start. For all of them. It hadn’t really been a mistake to come back here today. The mistake would be to leave before they had all taken that new step forwards.

  Emma didn’t trust herself to say anything aloud, though. All she could manage was to nod before she headed for the kitchen to make up the bottle of formula for Alice, but it was a definitive answer to Max’s question nonetheless.

  She would be here again tomorrow. And the next day.

  And Christmas Day.

  * * *

  This was definitely getting a little easier.

  Yesterday, in this very room, Max had been trying to feed a baby who wanted nothing to do with him. Now, he was sitting in his father’s favourite chair, holding a baby who was almost asleep again before she’d got halfway through her bottle of milk. He should probably take her back upstairs and put her in her cot but he didn’t want to move again just yet.

  The shape of Alice in his arms was already becoming familiar. The smell of her, as well, as Max bowed his head to get closer to that small head cradled in the crook of his elbow. Imagine holding a baby like this, he thought—your own baby that you’d just given birth to—knowing that, in a blink of time, she would be taken away from you for ever. Max had been totally blown away by hearing Emma’s story and his respect for her had gone completely off the scale. He’d never met a woman like her. He’d never met anyone like Emma Moretti, in fact.

  He could understand now that it really had been fear he’d seen in her eyes the other night when Emma had come into the room to see him holding a miserable, hungry baby that he couldn’t cope with. And what had he done? Simply shoved Alice into her arms, that was what, and he felt awful about that now. He wanted to gather Emma into his arms and tell her how sorry he was. Not just for forcing her to take Alice but for everything that had happened to her in the years since they’d gone on separate paths. For the grief she must have gone through. For the broken relationship, although he was quite confident that that Richard had not been good enough for Emma.

  She was someone incredibly special. Astonishingly attractive, for that matter. He’d almost kissed her again, for heaven’s sake. How had that happened in the wake of listening to her tragic stor
y? And why had he longed to do it even more than the first time when all he’d wanted to do was to see that gorgeous smile appear again?

  The reminder of that Christmas party made Max wonder if dealing with the aftermath of the grief of losing her baby Holly had contributed to her walking away from the career she had chosen because she loved children and babies so much? She was clearly very good at her locum work, fitting in instantly to new environments and being able to function brilliantly, but it didn’t feel like the right fit for someone like Emma. In some ways, she reminded Max of his own mother—someone so clever and capable, with so much love to give the people lucky enough to be within her immediate circle.

  It was weird that, even after decades, it was possible to feel a beat of that loss all over again, but it was muted enough that Max could easily refocus his thoughts. Emma was flitting from one job to another now, avoiding commitment to anything. To anyone? Did Christmas Day bring her any joy or was it only filled with unbearably sad memories?

  He could understand that.

  But...she’d said she was going to come back after work tomorrow and help with some more decorations. That she would stay until Christmas day, in fact. What if...?

  Max gently removed the teat from Alice’s now slack little rosebud of a mouth but he paused for a long moment before putting the bottle on the table beside him.

  What if he could somehow make this Christmas something joyous for Emma? A time when she could smile and enjoy being with children and babies—a family, even? That might help her to take a step forward into a future that she really deserved, where grief could be outweighed by joy. Where sadness could be dimmed by the kind of light that laughter and love could create.

  It wouldn’t just help Emma. How good would it be for his father? For himself, perhaps, as well. It might not be easy but look at the way he and Emma had worked together today. If he could get her on board, by making it all about the children—or perhaps his father—they could help each other get past any personal issues. He could bury his distaste for the commercial hype of the season and hopefully Emma would get a glimpse of a future where she could see herself celebrating the family bonds that she believed Christmas was all about. A future that she could embrace with no restrictions or fear.