Shenandoah Christmas. Lynnette Kent
He gave a rough cough. “Which was bad enough before I got sick, too.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s awful. Have you got someone to help you? Did you call the Shepherds?”
“Nah. They don’t need to come over here and catch this bug. Besides, I’m the parent—I can take care of my kids.”
“But—”
“And we’re doing okay. We sleep a lot. Take our medicines at the same time, read a story or two, doze off in front of a movie. We’ll get through.”
It was hard to argue with such stubborn independence. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need groceries? Drinks? More medicine?”
There was a long pause. “I—I think we’re covered, thanks.” He sounded stunned. “I appreciate the thought, though.”
“Please call if you need something.” He wouldn’t, of course. Why should he think about counting on somebody who was only passing through?
Why was she making trouble for herself by wishing he would?
“I guess you started on the Christmas pageant in choir today,” he said. “Maddie’ll be sorry to have missed that.”
If he wanted to talk… “We sang a few songs. She’ll catch up.”
“I think she knows most of the popular carols by heart already.”
That sounded all too familiar. “You must really enjoy Christmas, having two children to share the season with you.”
He cleared his throat. “To be honest, Christmas is the one time of year I almost wish I’d never had kids. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another day.”
Now it was Cait’s turn to pause. “Really?”
“And it takes everything I’ve got to get through the damn month of December without exploding—or simply walking away and never, ever coming back.” The bitterness in his voice was barely suppressed.
Shock held her silent. Ben Tremaine, the ultimate dad, didn’t like Christmas, either?
“Sorry,” he said, when she didn’t respond for a minute. “Chalk that insanity up to the fever and forget about it. And thanks for checking in.”
“Don’t cut me off.” Cait sat up straight, clutched the phone tighter, to keep him with her. “You can’t say something like that and just hang up.”
“Sure I can. And should.”
“What happened at Christmas that makes you hate it so much?”
“I can’t just be a grinch on principle?”
“It takes one to know one.” She grinned. “And I know that even grinches have history.”
He drew a rasping breath. “Okay. It’s not too complicated. When I was six years old, the woman who called herself my mother walked out of the house on Christmas Eve and didn’t come back. My dad celebrated the next twenty-two anniversaries of her departure—until he died, that is—by getting drunk and staying that way until the new year. I just never got into the Christmas spirit, somehow.”
Cait was quiet for a long time. Finally, she took the risk. “I know what it’s like to—to dread Christmas.”
“I guess the holidays are a tough time to be traveling from one show to the next.”
Though he couldn’t see her, she shook her head. “No, what’s tough is just watching. From the outside. Knowing you can’t get in.”
“Why can’t you get in?”
The hard part. “I was kicked out, more or less. By my father.”
After a few seconds, he said, “Your turn to explain.”
She sighed. “My senior year in high school, he and I had major disagreements over what I would do after graduation. He was thinking about college, a music education degree, a job as a church choir director and organist.”
“While you wanted the career you’ve got.”
“Exactly. The sooner, the better. And it all came to a head on Christmas Eve, about an hour before the pageant I’d been working on for three months. My dad found the college applications he assumed I’d submitted, hidden where I thought he’d never find them.” She gave a wry laugh. “Just my luck, that was the year he decided to wear his plaid vest, the one packed away in a cedar chest. In the attic. Right underneath all those application papers.”
Ben’s laugh turned into a cough. “I guess he raised holy hell.”
“There wasn’t much holy about it, in my opinion, anyway. He threw me out of the house and forbade me to darken the doors of ‘his’ church that night and at any time in the future.”
“What about your mom?” A gentle question.
“She died when I was four, during a miscarriage.” Cait took a deep breath. “It’s not just the baby we’re worried about with Anna. The ultrasound her doctor did at her six-month checkup showed the same condition my mom had—the placenta is too low in the womb, which could cause serious bleeding. So…we have to be really careful.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I haven’t given Christmas much thought since the showdown with my dad. I mean, I believe the basic story, but the human applications…”
“Leave a lot to be desired.”
How strange, to be understood. Even Anna didn’t quite comprehend why Cait avoided Christmas. “Definitely.”
“So we’re a couple of Scrooges in the middle of a whole town of Tiny Tims.”
That made her laugh. “I guess so. At least I can hole up in a hotel somewhere until it’s over. You still have to make the holiday for Maddie and Shep, don’t you?”
“My wife—Valerie—pretty much handled Christmas for the family, and let me kind of hang around the edges. But since she was killed…I’m the main source of holiday happenings. Peggy and Harry help, but they’re not here every day for the countdown.”
“It must be tough.”
“I’m always really glad to see that ball fall in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.”
In the pause, a new voice came through the line. “Daddy? My head hurts.” Cait heard the rustle of clothes, a grunt from Ben, then somebody’s sigh. “Is that Maddie?”
“Yeah. The fever’s coming back. For all of us, I think.”
“I’ll let you go, then, and hope the three of you feel better tomorrow morning. Call if you need anything.”
“Sure.”
Ben punched off the phone and sat for a minute, cradling Maddie in his arms and thinking about the woman he was reluctantly coming to know. Caitlyn Gregory, singer and sexy, talented rising star, was someone he could easily keep at a distance.
He wasn’t so sure he’d be able to resist the simpler Cait’s innate charm and warmth, her willingness to give of herself.
Maddie stirred against him and he felt her forehead. “Time for more grape medicine,” he murmured against her curls. As he staggered to his feet, Shep made a small noise upstairs. The reminder brought him back to reality.
Attractive as getting involved with Cait might seem, this situation wasn’t about his wants, his choices. He had a responsibility to keep his children safe from any more pain, any more loss, than was absolutely necessary.
And he’d do whatever he had to in order to protect his kids. Even from a woman as agreeable as Cait Gregory was turning out to be.
“SO, CAIT, what are your plans for the Christmas