Single Dad in Her Stocking Page 6

  It was no great hardship to take a few minutes to sit and sip an excellent wine in front of the fireplace, either. Despite the size of this impressive room, the flames created a flickering light and warmth that made the area directly in front of it seem homely. Almost intimate.

  ‘So how long have you been working as a locum?’ Max asked when they had chosen to sit at either end of the big couch rather than use the wing chairs.

  ‘A bit over four years, now.’ She had been offered bereavement leave but Emma had found she needed to get back to the job she loved so much, even though she’d been conscious of how hard it was going to be to work amongst young children and babies for a while. She’d learned to cope faster than she’d expected, however. She’d built those walls and kept going but some of the joy had gone and, as the months wore on, she’d known that if she wanted to move forward with her life and reclaim that joy, she needed to make some big changes. Hearing about someone’s exciting career as a locum had happened at just the right time.

  ‘If I’d ever thought about it, I would have said you’d be a consultant paediatrician by now.’

  Emma tilted her head but didn’t say anything. She could have agreed with him and said that was exactly what she’d been planning on being but, if she told him that, she’d have to tell him why it hadn’t happened and she didn’t want to go there. It was easier to focus on what else he’d just said that implied he’d never given her another thought after the time they’d worked together.

  It was inevitable that that took her mind back to their kiss. The one she’d never forgotten...

  Max broke the silence. ‘I guess none of us know what twists and turns life has in store for us. We just know that they’re going to happen—usually at what seems to be the worst possible time.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Emma could certainly agree with that. For a long moment, they both sipped their drinks and the silence was companionable. She knew she might be taking a risk that could destroy this pleasant ambience but Emma was curious. There was so much about Max that she’d never known. Would never have guessed.

  ‘How old were you when your mum died, Max?’ she asked gently.

  His glance was swift. Intense. ‘So Jenny did tell you? Or was it Maggie?’

  ‘They both told me a little. Not much. Maggie told me about your brother. Jenny said something about your mother.’

  ‘Something about the “Curse of the Cunninghams”, perhaps?’

  Embarrassed, Emma dropped her gaze. She’d hate Max to think she’d been gossiping about his family.

  ‘It’s okay,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I know people like to talk and it’s no wonder it’s all resurfacing now. Here it is, Christmas again, and tragedy number three strikes the Cunningham family.’

  ‘That should be it, then.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Bad things are supposed to come in threes.’ Emma bit her lip. The tragedies that had befallen this family were nothing to make light of but all she wanted to do was offer...something. Comfort wasn’t possible but perhaps some hope? ‘Christmas will be different this year.’ She offered a smile this time. ‘I’m sure the tree will just be the first of all the rules that Ben knows about.’

  Max snorted. ‘Christmas rules are just part of the commercial hype that’s all this season is all about. Reasons to make you spend more and more money.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘I don’t imagine this is the first Christmas you’ve worked so you know about the effects of the kind of stress it creates. People drink too much. Domestic violence goes through the roof. It’s marketed as a promise for peace and love for everyone who bothers to follow all those “rules” but anyone who stands back far enough can see it for what it is.’

  There was a defensiveness in his tone that made Emma think he was protesting too much. Because he’d had to—to protect himself? Because it was so much harder if you let yourself sink into what was missing from a celebration of family? She, of all people, could understand that.

  ‘I don’t believe that,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not saying it’s not a particularly difficult time for a lot of people but, if you’re lucky, it’s an opportunity to hit pause for a day. To celebrate the things that are really important—like family and friends. And, yes, we do that by buying stuff and eating special food but that’s okay too, because it’s all part of what makes it special. And they’re not “rules”. They’re traditions and every family makes their own. I expect Ben is holding onto the ones he knows about as tightly as he can because he’s lost just about everything else.’

  Emma had to stop talking then, so that she could swallow the lump in her throat. She could feel Max’s gaze resting on her.

  ‘So...why aren’t you with your family, then? You do have one, don’t you?’

  Emma nodded. ‘In Italy. We have quite different traditions there. Like the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve—the Festa dei Sette Pesci. And there’s always a nativity scene in the house and someone gets chosen to put the baby Jesus in the crib on Christmas Eve.’ She let her breath out in a sigh. ‘I haven’t been back home for a few years, though.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘As a locum, it can be one of the busiest times of the year because so many people want time off to be with their families.’ Emma closed her eyes for a heartbeat, ignoring the faint alarm bell in her head. She had, albeit unintentionally, stepped into a private part of Max Cunningham’s life. It was only fair if he knew a little more about her, wasn’t it? ‘Plus, I had a pretty rough Christmas a few years back and I needed some time out. Especially from my family, who would have insisted on talking about it endlessly.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Um...well, it started a bit before Christmas, I guess, when the guy I thought I was going to marry walked out on me. But then...someone special died...’

  ‘At Christmas time?’

  ‘On Christmas Day.’ Emma gulped in some air. ‘I knew it was coming but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier at the time, you know?’

  ‘Oh, yeah...’ Max’s tone was heartfelt. ‘I know.’ It was his turn to take a deeper breath. ‘I didn’t answer your question before. I was eleven when my mum died. My brother Andy was only eight. Not much older than Ben.’

  ‘Oh, Max... I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard for you all.’

  ‘I think we were too shocked to think about Christmas that year. It was the next one that was the hardest. Andy wanted it to be like it had been, but it was too hard on Dad. I found him crying and that shocked me so much. I had no idea what to do.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t. You were a child.’

  ‘I’m not proud of what I did do.’

  Emma watched the way Max’s face creased into lines of regret. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’

  ‘I told Andy that Father Christmas wasn’t real. That it had been Mum who’d put all the decorations up and all those presents under the tree and in our stockings and that, now she wasn’t here, it couldn’t happen any more because it would make Dad too sad.’

  Oh... Emma could just imagine the serious conversation between two small boys. A fragmented family trying to find a way to be together without it causing too much pain for anyone. It was heartbreaking.

  ‘So it didn’t happen that year. Or the next. And then we just got used to it. We’d give each other a gift but we never put up a Christmas tree again or did any of the other decorations that Mum used to love—like winding long ropes of artificial leafy stuff like ivy and holly with its red berries between the bannisters on the staircase and hanging little bunches of golden bells on every door so that they jingled whenever they were opened and closed. Andy started doing it all again once he had children of his own, mind you.’ Max drained his glass. ‘Me, I just got more cynical about it all but then, it only really matters for the kids, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I’m no
t sure about that,’ Emma said slowly. ‘But it’s certainly a very special time of the year for children. Exciting...and magical, until you know the truth about Father Christmas.’

  Max grimaced. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to burst the bubble for Ben or Tilly. They’ve got more than enough of real life to get their heads around at the moment.’

  ‘But...’ Again, Emma bit her lip. This really wasn’t any of her business.

  ‘But, what?’

  ‘It’s just that...well...putting up a Christmas tree is only a part of it. And it’s only a decoration if you don’t really believe...’

  ‘In Father Christmas?’

  Emma shook her head. ‘No. In family. In celebrating the bond. Or, in your case this year, perhaps it’s about creating a bond. The new one that’s going to be the foundation for Ben and Tilly and Alice to feel like they belong.’

  Max was staring at her. ‘I can’t do that.’

  ‘You can. You and your dad. All you have to do is love these children and I’m sure you do already.’

  ‘Yes, but...we don’t know how to do Christmas. It’s been more than twenty years since we even had a piece of tinsel in the house. Dad wouldn’t want it.’

  ‘Are you sure? It’s been a long time, Max. Sometimes it takes a gentle push to get people past something that’s holding them back. This new family of yours is a gift. It could turn out to be the best thing that could have happened.’

  ‘The breaking of the curse?’

  ‘If you like. The start of something new, anyway. Something very special.’

  Emma’s tone had softened as she thought about these two bachelor men of different generations sharing their lives with three small children. About the amount of love that would be available within the thick stone walls of this ancient house. She was smiling at Max as she finished speaking. He was holding her gaze with that kind of intensity she had felt before—when it had seemed like he was really seeing her for the first time.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said softly. ‘This could be the most important Christmas these kids will ever have. It has to be special.’ He still hadn’t broken the eye contact and Emma was starting to feel an odd tingle spreading through her body.

  ‘You have to help me, Emma. Please...’ The plea in Max’s tone was so heartfelt. ‘I don’t know how to do this by myself. I... I need you...’

  The tingle had just reached Emma’s toes.

  ‘We all need you,’ Max added, as if summoning every power of persuasion he could find. ‘Me and Dad. Ben and Tilly and Alice. Probably Pirate too. Just to be here when you’re not at the hospital. Just to be...well...just to be you... And...and you did promise to show Ben and Tilly how to make stars and we didn’t get time to do that tonight, did we?’

  Emma nodded. ‘I did say I’d show them how to make stars.’

  But to stay here in this house?

  To spend Christmas with a family?

  It was terrifying and compelling at the same time. Emma knew she should run a mile but there was something in her way.

  Maybe it was a small boy with solemn eyes. A little girl with a bunny that had chewed ears or a baby that had been watching her as if she was the most important person on earth as she’d sucked her bottle. Perhaps it was a man of her father’s generation who loved his little dog but had lost the joy of this season so long ago. Or...maybe it was this man who was looking lost but was so determined to do his best for the entire little family that had just turned up on his doorstep. A man who wanted her to be here. Who needed her...

  Christmas... With children. And a baby. How could she possibly cope with saying yes?

  But Max needed her. Perhaps everybody needed her because she was outside the tragedy that had brought them together so maybe she could see what needed to happen more clearly. How could she possibly say no?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  WHO WOULD HAVE THOUGHT?

  Max had certainly never expected to be here, in the Christmas grotto of Cheltenham’s largest department store. Or to be in sole charge of three small children, for that matter, but it seemed that things were going well on this outing. They had been going surprisingly well for the whole day, so far, in fact. He had wrangled the three different sizes of safety seats into his vehicle, figured out how to operate the three-wheeled mountain buggy for Alice and had taken the children on a drive to find a service station that hadn’t run out of Christmas trees yet, after deciding that taking the children into the patch of forest on their property and trying to saw off large branches probably wasn’t the most sensible idea. It was only after he had tied the tree securely to the roof rack of his Jeep and was planning to head back home to Upper Barnsley that Ben had informed him of the next Christmas ‘rule’, which was a visit to tell Father Christmas what they hoped would be their special gift this year.

  So, here they were. Father Christmas, resplendent in red suit with white faux fur edging to match his luxuriant beard and the trimmings on his hat, was sitting on a large red velvet-covered chair with a golden edging. Christmas carols were playing softly in the background and the store staff were wearing red hats or headbands with glowing yellow stars. There were Christmas trees with twinkling lights and fake snow on either side of the chair, giant teddy bears, burlap sacks with the corners of pretend gifts peeping out and a life-sized reindeer that had a round red nose and a mouth curved into a rather unlikely smile. It was everything that Max had dismissed about Christmas for as long as he could remember.

  Commercial hype. Children begged their parents to bring them here and there would be plenty of other shopping that needed to be done at the same time. Max could see the stoic expressions on some of the parents’ faces already as they kept their places in the queue of over-excited children who were waiting their turn to whisper their secret Christmas wishes into the ear of the man who could make it happen. The children standing close to Max weren’t over-excited, however. Ben and Tilly were standing very quietly, holding hands, beside the buggy in which Alice was soundly asleep for the moment. Too quietly, Max decided, looking around at the shining faces of other children and the way they were bouncing on their toes, barely able to contain themselves, when it was nearly their turn.

  ‘What are you going to ask Father Christmas for?’ he asked Ben.

  Ben gave him a patient look. ‘It’s secret,’ he said. ‘It’s—’

  ‘—a rule,’ Max said at the same time. He smiled at Ben. ‘I get it.’ He wondered if there was any way he could manage to stand close enough to overhear the request, however. Because how else was he going to know what he could get as Christmas gifts for his nephew and nieces?

  They moved up the queue a little and Max let his gaze roam away from the grotto towards the strategically placed aisles of every kind of decoration you might want for your house or tree. During a breakfast that was still chaotic even though Maggie had arrived not long after Emma had left for the hospital, he’d told James about his decision to buy a Christmas tree and he’d been on the point of suggesting that they already had all the decorations they could possibly need, boxed up and stored in the attic. It was instantly obvious that his dad knew exactly what he was thinking about and it was just as clear that he wanted to avoid that discussion at all costs. The haunted look in his eyes was swiftly followed by excusing himself to go into the clinic rooms to get ready for a morning surgery followed by house calls.

  ‘You know what?’ Max said to Ben.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think we’re going to have a new Christmas rule this year. One that’s just for us.’

  The deep crease that appeared on Ben’s forehead made his glance even more suspicious.

  ‘Only if you think it’s a good one,’ Max added gravely. ‘I reckon you know more about the rules than me.’

  Ben considered this and then nodded his agreement. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘Well...we’ve bou
ght a new Christmas tree, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And we need to put things on it to look pretty, yes?’

  ‘Stars...’ Tilly was listening to the conversation. ‘Emma said we can make stars and I can help.’

  ‘I know.’ Max had the sudden thought that maybe he might have a word in the ear of Father Christmas himself when they got close enough. So that he could put in a request that Emma would stay in the house for the next week at least. She hadn’t exactly said yes when he’d asked her last night. But she hadn’t said no either, so he hadn’t given up hope. ‘I’m sure she will,’ he reassured Tilly. ‘Emma is not the kind of person who would break a promise. But I was thinking that we might need something else to go with the stars. Something special that you guys can choose all by yourselves. After you’ve had your photo with Father Christmas.’

  Ben was still frowning. ‘But why is that a new rule?’

  ‘Because we’ll do it every Christmas,’ Max told him quietly. ‘And that means we’ll always have special decorations to go on the tree that you know are yours because you chose them.’

  Would the message beneath his words that Max only recognised himself as he was saying them be understood on some level by the children? That he was trying to make a promise that they were safe now and that he would do everything in his power to ensure that there weren’t going to be any more huge and traumatic changes in their lives? It seemed to have helped a little, because Tilly’s face was starting to look like the other little girls in this line. Her eyes were almost shining.

  ‘Fairies,’ she whispered. ‘I like fairies.’

  ‘I’ll help you find a fairy,’ Max said. ‘Maybe one that can go right on the tippy top of the tree?’