Miracle Under the Mistletoe. Tracy Madison
she laid eyes on Grady.
It didn’t matter that the love she felt for her husband was as real today as it was on the day they married. It didn’t matter how often she woke in the middle of the night and reached for him, only to find herself alone. And it didn’t matter that her entire life felt emptier without him. Because as bad as all those things were, they didn’t compare to losing her child.
Grady thought she blamed him for the death of their son. Nothing could be further from the truth, not that he believed her. It would be easier if she did blame Grady, she admitted. She’d be able to forgive him. Forgiving herself, though, seemed impossible. It was her fault that her husband and son were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was her fault that they were driving on ice-slicked roads instead of where they should have been: safe and sound at home. She was the one who put off taking Cody to see Santa for weeks, and she was the one who put the bug in Cody’s ear about Daddy taking him to see Santa instead. And when Grady came to her and suggested they go together, as a family, she’d pushed the whole father-and-son-outing idea until he agreed.
Her selfish want to have a few hours to herself, to relax from all of the shopping, wrapping, baking and decorating had resulted in the loss of everything that meant anything.
So no, she couldn’t be with Grady. It was too hard. He brought too many memories, too many emotions, to the surface for her to find any type of peace.
Forty-five minutes later, Grady strode through the cemetery, not stopping until he reached his son’s gravestone. Nearly three years since he’d heard Cody’s laugh, since he’d seen the boy’s brown eyes light up in humor, since his arms had held his child to his chest in a hug. How was that possible? The pain ignited inside as if the loss had occurred yesterday.
Usually, Grady could set the hollow ache aside and move forward, do whatever needed to be done, and portray a man who lived and breathed and loved. It was only during these moments—when he came to visit Cody’s resting place—that he gave up the charade. There was no reason to pretend here. Not when it was just them.
He shivered, partly from the memories and partly from the dusting of snow that had fallen earlier all throughout the city. It seemed every recent winter brought more snow than the residents of Portland, Oregon, were accustomed to, but this was the earliest snowfall that Grady could recall. Silly and sentimental, maybe, but it was almost as if Cody were reaching out to him. His son had loved everything about winter.
Bending at the knees, Grady brushed the light layer of snow covering the etched letters that spelled out his son’s name. Losing Cody wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, either. But hell, what in life was fair? Things happened. Some of the things were good, some of them were bad, and some of them were so bad that you didn’t think you’d ever recover. Grady almost hadn’t. But you played the hand you were dealt. You found a way to get through, to get a grip, and you carried on.
Not that carrying on without his son had been an easy task. Far from it. Never had he experienced such a profound loss, and he prayed to whatever God existed that he would never face anything so excruciating again.
“Hey, kiddo. I’ve been thinking a lot about you today. Every day, really. You’re never far from my thoughts.” Grady’s throat seemed to shrink as he spoke, but he continued to talk, knowing from past experience that as hard as these visits were, they also helped him feel close to Cody. “I saw your mom tonight. You should’ve seen her, son. She looked beautiful.”
Olivia had worn her dark brown hair loose and long, framing her face, showing off her gorgeous wide-set blue eyes. The second he saw her, he was lost all over again. God, what a fool he was. When Olivia had asked him to dinner, he’d been sure that tonight would be the night he’d been waiting for: the night they’d finally begin to clear the air and move toward reconciliation.
“I don’t want to give up on her,” Grady murmured into the cold night air. “I promise I’ll keep trying, Cody. Though, I’ll have to give her a few days to calm down. I upset her tonight, son. I didn’t mean to.”
When Olivia had left Grady alone at the restaurant, it was all he could do not to jump up and follow. He hated not knowing if she was okay. He hated knowing that there were some things he couldn’t shield her from. But he forced himself to stay put. He’d dealt her a low blow by bringing Cody into the conversation. He probably shouldn’t have, but he yearned to talk to Olivia about Cody, to revel in the life of their son together. But the facts were plain. She wasn’t ready. After tonight, he wondered if she ever would be.
He’d believed that given enough distance—since that seemed to be what Olivia needed—they’d find their way together again. So he’d held his tongue, waited for her to come to him, to say all the words she never had, and hoped that once that happened, they might have a chance at repairing their marriage. But now she’d asked for a divorce. Something that she’d hinted at often enough but had never before said straight-out.
“I wish…” Grady swallowed the rest of his statement away. He’d like to turn back time, just as Olivia had said, and return to that snowy, blustery day nearly three years earlier. With Christmas only two days away, five-year-old Cody had wanted to visit Santa before the big day. To be honest, Grady hadn’t been in the mood for a trip to the mall. Dealing with mobs of people didn’t sound nearly as much fun as playing in the snow with his son.
But Cody had looked at him with those big, brown eyes and pleaded in the way that only a five-year-old can. So off they went on a father-and-son outing. Grady would never, for as long as he lived, forget the look of pure joy on Cody’s face when he sat on Santa’s knee. That smile made the crowded mall, the long lines and the grumpy shoppers worthwhile.
The snow was falling fast and furious when they left, and Grady had a minute—one freaking minute—where he considered hanging out in the food court to give the storm a little more time to work its way through. But he’d worried that it would get worse with night approaching, so he made the decision to get them home. Where it was safe. Where Olivia waited.
So yes, he’d give anything and everything to revisit that day and spend the hours building snowmen with his son instead of going to the mall. Or left an hour earlier—later—hell, fifteen minutes in either direction might have made the world of a difference, might have put his car somewhere other than in the path of a driver who’d consumed far too many drinks.
“Stop. It’s done. Nothing to do about that now.” True, that. But knowing something couldn’t be changed didn’t stop a man from wishing it could. He brushed his fingers over his son’s name again, recalling the joy their lives had been together. They were, in nearly all ways, the perfect family. Or, at least, the way a family should be.
Yep, he’d had it all. The American dream. And now… “Your mom blames me, Cody. She swears that she doesn’t, but I know she does. If she’d just scream at me and quit trying to shield both of us from her feelings, we might stand a chance.”
Grady even understood why Olivia felt the way she did. He’d likely have had the same demons to fight if their roles were reversed, if Olivia had been at the wheel that day. He understood her blame completely. Hell, he’d yet to stop blaming himself.
Olivia stood motionless, her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. She wasn’t close enough to hear Grady’s words, but the sight of him kneeling at their son’s gravesite softened everything inside. They hadn’t been here together since that horrible, exhausting day they buried their son.
She swallowed, trying to ease the pressure in her chest, trying to find a way to feel normal. Even if only for a second. A choked-sounding sob escaped. She barely remembered what normal was. The tenor of Grady’s voice whisked along the November wind, wrapping around her, bringing a strange sort of anonymous comfort.
How odd that being with him brought her pain, but this—just listening to his voice—eased the panicky, twisty feeling that had existed within her for so long. The safety of distance, perhaps. Or the simple fact that he didn’t know she lurked nearby. Or maybe because she’d finally, after all of this time, made a decision about their marriage.
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