Читать книгу Single Dads Collection - Lynne Marshall - Страница 63

‘NIC?’

‘Yes, honey?’

It was Christmas Eve, dinner was long over and all the children had quietened down after a rowdy game of Trouble. Ella was sitting next to Nicola on one of the sofas, her head resting against Nicola’s shoulder. The soft weight of the child and her absolute trust pierced straight into the centre of Nicola, making her wish …

She pulled in a breath and pushed the thought away. She would not allow it to mar the mood of the evening. Contentment stretched through the living room, along with expectation and hope. The atmosphere as unique to Christmas as the scent of cinnamon and mince pies.

She glanced down when Ella didn’t continue with her question. ‘What do you want to know, pumpkin?’

Ella chewed her lip and then climbed right into Nicola’s lap. ‘What if Santa doesn’t come?’

She suppressed a smile. ‘Why wouldn’t he come?’

She shared a glance with Cade. He wore a pair of grey cargo shorts and a blue shirt that matched his eyes exactly. Holly had fallen asleep and he cradled her in his arms. The contrast between the big, tanned man—the broad shoulders and the long, strong legs—and the small child with her delicate pink-white skin and fine blonde hair, made her breath hitch and the pulse in her throat quicken. Everything about him ravished her senses. She forced her eyes back to Ella before he could see the desire that flashed in their depths.

‘Well …’ Ella drew out, ‘Waminda is a very, very, very long way from Brisbane.’ To her childish mind, Brisbane was the centre of the universe. ‘Maybe,’ she continued, ‘Santa doesn’t know we’re here.’

‘But we sent him a letter, remember?’

‘Do you think he got it?’

‘I’m sure of it.’

The blue eyes, so like her father’s, brightened. Ella’s questions, her hope, reminded Nicola of the Christmases of her own childhood—the loneliness and inevitable disappointment. She understood Ella’s fear. ‘And don’t forget,’ she whispered to the child, ‘Santa is magic.’

‘So he’ll come?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’

Her assurances seem to satisfy Ella, who snuggled into Nicola all the more securely. Cade sent Nicola such a warm smile of thanks it curled her toes.

‘Nic?’

What this time? She glanced down. ‘Yes?’

‘Do you think Mummy will come tomorrow?’

Every adult in the room—Cade, Harry, Verity, Dee and her husband, Keith, who’d arrived earlier in the day—all stiffened. Nicola did her best to keep her body relaxed. Ella would unconsciously pick up on any tension she radiated and it would unsettle and upset her.

Was this—seeing her mother—what Ella had pinned all her Christmas hopes on? The greyness of Cade’s skin, the haggard expression on his face, made her heart burn. Whatever anyone else in the room thought, she couldn’t lie to Ella. If seeing her mother was the child’s dearest wish, it would be hard getting her through tomorrow, but it wouldn’t be as bad as giving her hope that would go unfulfilled.

She caressed the hair back from Ella’s brow. ‘Pumpkin, I haven’t spoken to your mummy, but I don’t think she’ll be able to make it tomorrow.’

‘The day after?’

Nicola’s chest cramped. How could any woman turn her back on such a beautiful, loving child? Fran must have a heart of stone. She tried to keep her breathing steady. ‘We can keep our fingers crossed, but I really don’t know. I think she’d let us know if she was coming for a visit.’

She watched as Ella digested her words. ‘Will you be here?’

‘I promise.’ She crossed her heart. ‘And we’re all going to have such fun tomorrow. I mean, you have your daddy and Holly here, and your grandma, Auntie Dee and Uncle Keith, not to mention Simon and Jamie, and Harry and me. That’s pretty lucky, don’t you think?’

Ella thought about that for a moment and then she smiled. ‘Yes,’ she pronounced. ‘And you really, truly think Santa will come?’

‘I really, truly do.’

Will you sing a Christmas carol?’ Ella whispered.

Ella’s favourite was Silent Night, so Nicola started to sing it. One by one, the other adults joined in. Before the first verse was over, Cade rose to put Holly down. By the end of the song, Keith and Dee had taken a twin apiece and Cade returned to carefully lift Ella from Nicola’s arms.

‘I’ll be fine,’ he murmured when she made to rise too.

She couldn’t read his eyes, but she subsided into her seat, sensing he wanted to be alone with his daughter, to stare down at her while she slept and to give thanks for her.

Harry pushed out of her chair. ‘I’m off to bed.’

‘Nicola—’ Verity rose ‘—I suspect we’ve seen the last of Dee and Keith for the night.’

Nicola grinned. The couple’s evident delight at seeing each other after ten days apart had been all too plain.

‘I also suspect that it will be a big day tomorrow.’

‘I expect you’re right on both counts.’

‘So I’m going to retire early.’

‘Sleep well.’

Verity turned in the doorway. ‘I’m glad you’re spending Christmas with us this year.’

She couldn’t mistake the older woman’s sincerity, and she had to swallow down an unexpected lump. ‘Thank you. I’m glad too.’

When Cade returned, he glanced around and blinked.

She laughed. ‘It seems the consensus was for turning in early.’

He collapsed on the sofa beside her. ‘Fair enough.’

She stared at him for a moment. ‘You okay?’

‘Sure, I …’

‘Ella’s question about her mum was a humdinger. It seemed to hit you all for six.’

He shook his head. ‘It took me off guard. God knows why. I should’ve expected it, I suppose, but she stopped asking about Fran months ago.’

It took an effort of will not to reach out and touch him. Every atom of her being begged her to, her mouth drying at the memory of the lean hard feel of him. Her fingers curled, her blood quickened, her lips parted to drag in a ragged breath.

He turned, his eyes flashing. ‘Why the hell couldn’t you just lie to her?’ His hands clenched. ‘Why couldn’t you have left her with a tiny shard of hope?’

She flinched at his vehemence … and the direction her thoughts had taken. Her heart pounded against her rib-cage. She dragged in a breath and tried to gather her wits. ‘Do you … do you think there is any hope?’ Had she read that wrong? A heavy weight settled in the pit of Nicola’s stomach. Would Fran come back and claim her family?

‘No!’ He stabbed a finger at her. ‘But that’s not the point. Ella is just a child, a little girl. It was cruel to …’

Maybe it was his own hope Cade was trying to keep alive, not Ella’s. A chill travelled up her backbone. Her chest throbbed. She couldn’t speak.

His eyes blazed. ‘You could have invented something, fibbed a little. She would’ve forgotten all about it tomorrow in the Christmas excitement.’

Her chin shot up. ‘I will not lie to your daughter—not today, not tomorrow, not ever! I know what it’s like to ache for something on Christmas Day. It’s a day of miracles, right?’ Her hands fisted. ‘And I remember the crushing disappointment that came at day’s end when I realised my wish wasn’t going to come true. I will not put Ella through that. That would be cruel.’

His mouth opened and closed, and then he sank back against the sofa cushions and he dragged a hand down his face, swore softly. Neither of them spoke for a while. The Christmas tree twinkled benignly in the corner. ‘What did you hope for?’ he finally asked.

She’d expected him to continue arguing with her. His unexpected question took her back to a time of vulnerability and disappointment. It took her a moment before she could speak. ‘Usually I just hoped that the spirit of the day would infect my parents and that they’d unbend enough to … to play with me.’

He stared and she found herself continuing. ‘I didn’t lack for presents; it was just … I was always told that I was luckier than most little girls and to go play on my own.’ She shrugged. ‘One year I wished with all my might for a rowdy Christmas dinner with lots of crackers to pop and the reading out of corny jokes followed by the singing of Christmas carols.’

That hadn’t happened either.

She sensed the exact moment the fight left Cade’s body. She bit back a sigh. ‘Look, I’m not telling you this to make you feel sorry for me. It’s just that, as a child, I knew what it was like to hope for the impossible and not get it—to not even realise it was impossible in the first place. Telling Ella that her mother might show up is only setting her up for unnecessary heartbreak because, believe me, come tomorrow she won’t have forgotten. She’d spend the day waiting for it to happen, waiting for her mother to walk through the door. Now, hopefully, she can focus on all the other good bits of the day instead. She might get a bit sad about her mum, but there’s absolutely nothing you can do about that, Cade. No matter how much you might want to. Besides, Ella is entitled to her sadness on that count.’

He blinked as if he hadn’t considered that before. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then dragged a hand down his face. ‘I’m still not sure I agree with the way you handled it, but I appreciate you telling me the reason why.’

At least his anger had abated, if not his worry. She pulled in a breath. ‘I think if we lie to Ella we’re betraying her trust. I think if we fib to her—even with good intentions—it will lessen her faith in us.’

His jaw dropped open.

‘I think fibbing to her will do more harm than good. Her faith in you, Cade, is the biggest gift you can give her. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want to do anything that might damage that.’

‘Hell, no!’ He swallowed. ‘I hadn’t considered it from that angle.’

He didn’t say anything for several long moments, but she sensed that beneath the silence his mind raced. He suddenly muttered an oath and swung to face her more fully. ‘I wanted to protect Ella from more pain, but lying to her would be unforgivable. You’re right. My word should be something she can trust and always rely on—not something to doubt and question.’

Nicola let out a breath.

‘I’m sorry I rounded on you. You saw it all much clearer than I did.’

Her heart unclenched a fraction, and then it clenched up tighter than before. She gripped her hands together. ‘Are you sure it’s not your own hope you’re trying to keep alive rather than Ella’s?’

His head came up. ‘Why the hell would I want to do that?’

‘Because if Fran did show up, maybe it’d mean you weren’t a failure. And that, in turn, would help ease your guilt.’

And maybe because you still love her? But she left that unsaid. She didn’t have the heart for it.

‘The thing is,’ she continued, ‘the breakdown of your marriage doesn’t make you a failure. You did everything you could to save it. As far as I can see, you have absolutely nothing to be guilty about.’

He stared at her as if he didn’t know what to say and it suddenly hit her that it was Christmas Eve and he’d specifically asked her for Christmas spirit and cheer. She made herself smile. ‘You’re a wonderful father, Cade.’ She tapped her watch. ‘And look, it’s almost Christmas. All you can do is focus on having a lovely day tomorrow and making it special and exciting for Ella and Holly.’ She nudged him with her shoulder. ‘Christmas spirit, remember?’

Slowly he nodded and his shoulders went back. ‘Just concentrate on the stuff I can control, right?’

He smiled then. And she had no hope whatsoever of controlling the way her heart pitter-pattered.

Or the way the breath hitched in her throat.

His gaze lowered to her mouth and his eyes darkened to a deep stormy blue. The air between them crackled with energy and electricity.

He shot off the sofa. ‘Goodnight, Nicola.’

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter. She closed her eyes. ‘Goodnight, Cade.’

The next morning Nicola rose at six o’clock. A peek into Ella’s room and then the boys’ room confirmed they all still slept soundly. Holly would sleep through to her usual seven o’clock, but Nicola had fully expected to find the other children wide awake and bouncing off walls.

She sneaked down to the stables to give Scarlett a Christmas carrot. Jack and several of the other stockmen and jackaroos were holding their own Christmas festivities in the stockmen’s quarters, so she left a box of old English toffee, that she’d discovered Jack had a fondness for, on the bench by his front door where he had his morning coffee. He should find it first thing.

She turned to make her way back to the homestead, but paused to drink in the early morning air. At this time of the day the light was clear and crisp. The landscape didn’t yet shimmer with its usual heat haze, and the light was easy on the eyes. It allowed her to survey, unhindered, all the natural rugged beauty of the place before the sun blazed down with its hard blinding ferocity.

The khaki-green of the mulga scrub contrasted prettily with the yellow-white of the grass … and beneath it all the red dirt of the Outback. She hadn’t expected to find so much beauty out here in the western reaches of Queensland. She hadn’t fully appreciated it when she’d first arrived. But this place and its people had helped her heal and she gave thanks that she could now see and appreciate the stark and ancient grandeur of the landscape. And that she had the best part of another month in which to enjoy it.

Christmas at Waminda Downs! An optimism she hadn’t allowed herself to feel for this day since she was a child welled in her now. She grinned and then set off at a trot for the homestead.

Entering her room via the French windows, the first thing Nicola saw was Ella sitting in the middle of her double bed. Her heart tripped. Had Ella panicked when she hadn’t been able to find her? Had she leapt to the conclusion that, just like her mother, Nicola hadn’t kept her promise and had deserted her?

‘Hey, chickadee!’ She swept her up in her arms for a hug and then plonked them both back down on the bed. ‘Merry Christmas.’

‘Merry Christmas.’ A smile warred with a frown on the child’s face.

‘I went down to the stables to wish Scarlett a merry Christmas,’ she confided.

‘I thought you were in the bathroom.’

Okay, Ella hadn’t been worried about her whereabouts, so …?

‘Excited?’ she asked.

‘What if Santa didn’t come?’ the little girl blurted out. ‘He forgot last year.’

Ah, the puzzle pieces slotted into place.

‘Did you look?’ Ella whispered. ‘Was there anything in our stockings?’

She understood it wasn’t the presents that Ella needed. It was the magic and the hope. ‘I haven’t looked yet. Do you want to go and do that now?’

Ella nodded, and while she was too big to be carried much any more, Nicola knew that the child needed the security. So she lifted her up onto her hip and started towards the living room.

Then she halted.

Ella’s bottom lip started to quiver, but Nicola winked at her. ‘You know, I think we need your daddy for this too.’ She detoured to Cade’s room and knocked on his door. A muffled sound emerged that she chose to interpret as a ‘what?’ or a ‘yes?’ rather than an oath.

‘Wake up, sleepy-head, the fun’s about to start and you don’t want to miss it.’

‘Don’t you dare start without me!’

There was a thump and a couple of bumps and a muffled curse or two and Ella giggled. ‘Daddy’s funny.’

‘Hilarious,’ he growled, flinging the door open and seizing Ella in his arms and swinging her around until she squealed.

His T-shirt was rumpled, his hair dishevelled and Nicola’s blood heated up.

‘Daddy—’ Ella clasped him tight about the neck ‘—we have to see if Santa’s been.’

Nicola shook herself, trying to dispel images that had nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with Cade and rumpled sheets. ‘We … uh … thought you might like to join us.’

‘You were right.’

His blue eyes sent her a simple message—thank you. It turned her to mush.

Oh, grow a backbone, Nicola Ann!

She ousted her mother’s voice from her head immediately. It was Christmas. She wasn’t going to tolerate that voice today.

‘Shall I lead the way?’ she asked Ella.

Ella nodded and, without further ado, Nicola set off for the living room. She might not need a backbone, but a little steel in her legs wouldn’t have gone amiss. The presence of warm male flesh moving so closely behind her leached the strength from her limbs with each step she took.

She hummed “Jingle Bells” under her breath in an effort to ignore and counter her traitorous body’s reaction. Her newfound Christmas optimism and excitement—it left her so much more receptive to … to other things it would be wiser not to name.

She paused on the threshold of the living room, caught Ella’s eye and smiled, and then with an arm partly around the little girl and partly around the father who carried her, she swept them all into the room.

Ella’s eyes widened. They grew as large as frisbees as she stared at each of the stockings tacked to the mantelpiece, all full to bursting.

‘See, sweetie? Didn’t I tell you Santa would come?’

Ella pressed her face to Cade’s neck and promptly burst into tears.

He stared at Nicola over the top of Ella’s head, his eyes wide with panic.

Nicola shook her head and gave him a thumbs-up. ‘Excitement,’ she mouthed silently.

In no time, Ella wriggled from her father’s arms and had seized her stocking, squealing in delight as she extracted her bounty.

In less than ten minutes, the rest of the family had joined them, Verity carrying Holly. With nothing to do but to watch and enjoy, Nicola sat back and took it all in, soaked up the joy and awe of the children, the warmth and affection of the adults and the promised magic of the day.

‘You okay?’ Cade asked, plonking himself beside her on the sofa, one of his hands resting briefly on her knee.

‘Yes, of course. I …’

To her horror, she found her eyes prickling with tears. Cade’s expression sharpened in a heartbeat. He moved towards her but she shook her head, gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed ‘excitement’ to him. He grinned then and she was grateful she witnessed it through a sheen of tears or it might well have slayed her where she sat.

When she was sure she could speak without disgracing herself, she said, ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before except on the telly. I’ve never experienced this much … un-adulterated joy.’

His eyes softened, those amazing blue eyes that could look as hard as the sky or as soft as a breeze, depending on their mood. ‘Nic—’

‘No, no.’ She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. ‘It’s wonderful.’ She beamed at him. ‘I want to thank you for letting me be a part of it.’

She couldn’t explain to him what a privilege she found it … or what a revelation. In Melbourne she’d developed a veneer of cynicism about Christmas to protect herself from disappointment and inevitable letdown. She realised now how self-defeating that had become. She made a vow to dispense with that cynicism for good. Christmas should never be a chore or something to run away from. It should be celebrated and cherished.

Cade tried to keep his attention on the children—on their merriment, their wide-eyed delight and their comical glee with their presents—but the smell of strawberry jam filled his senses and he found his eyes returning to Nicola again and again.

Her eyes shone with as much delight as the children’s. A soft smile curved her lips. He found it particularly hard to drag his gaze from those soft, plump, kissable, strawberry-jam-scented curves. If he could have just one Christmas wish, it would be for another taste of those lips. Not a quick brush of his lips against hers, but a thorough and devastating rediscovery of their shape and texture, of their give and take, of their taste and the way her body with its killer curves melted into his when—

‘Daddy?’ A tug on his shirtsleeve brought him back with a start. A glance at Nicola’s pink-tinged cheeks told him his hungry survey hadn’t gone unobserved.

Friends! He’d promised they’d be friends. Nothing more.

He swiped a forearm across his brow. He had to get these darn hormones back under wraps before they flared out of control and brought him undone. But, damn it, they dodged and weaved and bucked his restraint with greater ferocity than the brumbies he’d been breaking in these last few weeks.

‘Daddy?’ Another tug.

‘What, princess?’

‘When can we open the presents under the tree?’

The presents under the tree were from the family members to each other.

Ella hopped from one foot to the other. ‘I have five presents under there!’

He understood the lure and excitement of presents—he’d admit to a certain amount of curiosity about the present under there with his name on the gift tag, written in Nicola’s neat schoolteacher’s hand—but he didn’t want his daughter growing up to think that was all Christmas was about.

‘Not until after Grandma reads us the Christmas story after breakfast. Then we’ll all take turns to say what we’re grateful for. That was a tradition from his own childhood.

Ella leaned in close. ‘I’m grapeful for lots and lots of things, Daddy.’ She climbed up onto his knee and snuggled in close. ‘I’m very grapeful that Santa came, that he didn’t forget. And I’m grapeful that you’re here and Holly and Grandma and Nic and Harry and Auntie Dee and Uncle Keith and Simon and Jamie … and that it’s like a big party.’ She glanced up at him. ‘Aren’t you grapeful for that?’

His chest expanded until he thought it might explode. He had to swallow before he could speak, infected by all that darn female emotion that had been flying around no doubt. ‘You bet.’

But as Ella slid off his knee with a final squeeze, he knew he couldn’t blame anyone else for the prickle of heat that threatened his eyes and his heart. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to—he’d given his daughters the Christmas they deserved. It filled him up and made him breathe easier. He would never neglect Christmas again. Never. It was too important. In a world that could be cold and brutal, it was too … necessary.

He glanced at Nicola. His children’s infuriatingly delightful nanny had helped him make this day a reality, just like she’d promised she would. He wondered if she realised that was because of who she innately was, though, rather than some artificial taking part that she’d felt obliged to perform.

He closed his eyes for a moment when he recalled Ella’s heartbreaking question about her mother the previous night. He was grateful now—so grateful—that Nicola had answered the way she had. There might be tears over Fran before the day was through, but Nicola was right—he could only control those things that lay in his power. Fran did not come under that particular banner. He could rest safe in the knowledge that he’d done everything he could to give his girls the Christmas they deserved. But rather than Ella or Holly, his gaze returned constantly to Nicola.

Nicola, Dee and Verity laughed in unison when they unwrapped their gifts from each other—they’d bought one another silk scarves, admired together from the same website. The children all momentarily glanced up from the Amazing Facts picture books and activity packs that Nicola had bought for them, but they quickly went back to oohing and ahhing over their pictures. Cade shot Harry a surreptitious glance to find she was grinning too, and sporting her Wonder Woman apron—again, one of Nicola’s gifts—with pride.

He stretched his legs out, leaned back and savoured the moment. Then he seized two presents from beneath the tree and placed them into Nicola’s lap.

She glanced up at him with a shy smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Now open them.’

She tore the wrapping paper from the first, grinned and rolled her eyes. ‘What are you trying to do to my waistline?’ she demanded, holding up the biggest jar of chocolate-coated sultanas he’d been able to find.

‘A little indulgence is good for the soul,’ he countered, and then had to drag his gaze from her mouth. That wasn’t the kind of indulgence he’d meant.

He watched as she unwrapped the second gift. Her soft ‘Oh!’ and wide eyes were the only thanks he needed.

‘What did you get?’ Dee demanded.

Nicola held up her bounty. ‘Novels,’ she said, and her eyes shone. ‘Romance novels.’

‘Ooh, that looks like a good story,’ Dee said, ‘and I love that author.’

‘Let me see,’ Verity said. ‘Oh, I’ve read that one. It’s fabulous!’

But Nicola wasn’t looking at Dee or Verity, who were admiring the cache of books. She was staring straight at him with an expression that made him push his shoulders back.

‘You remembered.’

‘I did.’ It occurred to him that, as far as Nicola went, there’d be very little he’d ever forget. Her eyes and her smile told him he’d given her the perfect present. It hadn’t been much, but her true delight in the gift moved him far more than he’d expected. It made him suddenly awkward. It made him wish he could buy her a whole library of romance novels if that would make her happy.

‘Open yours,’ she urged with a nod towards his present under the tree. ‘It’s just something little. A joke really,’ she said.

Her eyes danced and anticipation fizzed through him. He didn’t need a second bidding. He seized the present and tore off the paper. He stared for a moment and then started to laugh. She’d given him the largest box of assorted chocolates and sweets he’d ever seen with a big Beware sticker plastered across the front. The accompanying note read: Please eat in moderation! Somehow she’d taken a bad memory, a moment of awfulness, and had turned it into something he could laugh about.

As he made a move to kiss her cheek, a second item fell out, wrapped in bubble-wrap. Intrigued, he unrolled it, and then a grin spread across his face. In his hand he held a finely wrought pewter figurine of a boxer.

Nicola grinned back at him. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

Verity stared from one to the other. ‘I sense there’s a story there.’

‘Perhaps,’ Nicola conceded. ‘Though maybe it’s more of a private joke.’

Her tact touched him, but he had no such qualms. ‘Very private,’ he declared, ‘as I have no intention of ever telling anyone how you managed to flatten me when I gave you a boxing lesson.’

Dee promptly held her hand up and Nicola high-fived her. ‘What can I say?’ she said mock modestly. ‘Horse-riding and boxing—it appears I’m a natural at both.’

When Dee and Verity had turned away, caught up in admiring Keith’s gift to Verity—a lovely opal bracelet—Nicola nodded towards the tree again. That was when he saw a second present sporting his name on the gift tag in Nicola’s handwriting. ‘That one is from Ella and Holly.’

He glanced at his daughters and then ripped off the paper to find a photo frame—obviously decorated by them, no doubt with Nicola’s assistance. While he instantly loved the haphazard stars and lopsided flowers painted on the frame, it was the photo that caught his attention, and held it.

Ella and Holly didn’t just smile from the frame and they didn’t just giggle—their entire faces and bodies glowed and roared with laughter. It spoke of their youth and their innocence, and there was no shadow of the past sixteen months there—it was a moment of straight-down-the-line exhilaration.

And it stole his breath.

He suddenly realised why this Christmas—why making it so perfect for Ella and Holly—had become so important for him. He’d been searching for optimism, for hope for the future, and an assurance that they would all be okay.

He held that assurance in his hand.

He met Nicola’s gaze. ‘Thank you.’