Читать книгу Christmas At The Café - Rebecca Raisin, Darcie Boleyn - Страница 28
ОглавлениеMy old truck whines as I pull into the driveway; another thing I was all set on replacing this year, but I guess that may not happen now. I jump down from the cab, and head up the porch. Light from inside peeks out through the thick lace curtains. I take a deep breath and brace myself to tell Damon.
Inside, I throw my bag and keys on the buffet, and head towards the kitchen.
Damon’s there, his back towards me, a tea towel slung over his shoulder as he stirs something that smells tangy, in a pot.
“Hey,” I say, edging towards him.
He turns to me as he pulls the tea towel from his shoulder and tosses it on the bench. His smile disappears when he glances at my face, which is probably puffy and ruddy, and all sorts of ugly.
“Hey, you.” He takes me in his arms, and I want to kick myself when the tears start again. This time they fall silently without the great big chest heaves. He doesn’t ask anything, just holds me tight. I close my eyes, and thank God I have a man who loves me right.
I tilt my head and show him my face. “Lil.” He wipes my tears away, and leans down to kiss me softly on the lips.
He exhales slowly and squeezes me tight once more, before stepping back, and pouring a glass of red wine. “You need to unwind. Take this—” he hands me the glass “— and go soak in the tub. It’s all ready for you. How about I finish up in here, and come talk to you while you relax?”
I take a sip of wine, and feel myself go heavy with relief. “Sounds great.” I kiss his cheek. “Where’s Charlie bear?”
“She’s asleep. She spent the rest of the afternoon up in the treehouse with the kids next door.” His face softens, and I know he’s thinking of the lifestyle here for his little girl. He wants her to be able to roam free and explore safely, the way kids in small towns can. A place where they make their own fun, like we did at their age, before computers and technology took over.
“She must be exhausted. Did she have some dinner?”
“Home-made fish fingers.” He grins as he sees my eyes light up. “And I made some for us too.”
“You’re never too old for fish fingers. What’s in the pot?” I motion to the burgundy syrup he’s stirring.
“Plum sauce — thought I’d try the recipe out before the festival. It’s to go with the deep-fried Camembert dish.”
“My mouth’s watering. I hope you’re making some Camembert to go with my fish fingers…”
“Surely am. Taste this first.” He holds the spoon to my lips; the sauce is sweet, and tart at the same time.
“It’s good,” I say.
He drops the spoon in the pot, and kisses the taste from my mouth.
His voice is husky. “You better get in the bath before you drive me to distraction.”
Heat flushes my face as I shuffle to the bathroom, listening to the sound of Charlie’s soft snores as I walk past her bedroom.
Moments later, he’s there, perched on the white-tiled ledge of the bath watching me submerge myself under the soft water. I push my wet hair back, take a deep breath and tell him all about Joel, and what he wants.
He leans his head against the wall, and stares up at the ceiling. I can tell he’s angry at Joel by the way he clenches his jaw. Feeling mighty silly to be in such a predicament, I push the bubbles around the bath so I don’t have to see his expression.
“Do you think you’ll have to pay him?”
“I don’t see why I’d have to. The only worry I have is that it was from his father’s bank account. At the time he gave me a bunch of reasons for that…we were married, we shared everything. I lost more than twenty thousand when he made all those bad business deals. As far as I’m concerned that money is mine, always was. I supported him financially for most of our marriage, because I was so naïve, and then he lost it all. Except the café, and that’s only because of how hard I fought to keep it.”
I take a huge gulp of wine, which spills from the side of my mouth. Goddamn it, just once I’d like to feel like one of those sophisticated women, who wear gloop and drink wine in the bath looking as glamorous as a movie star — but, no, I manage to muck it up.
“If it comes to it I don’t have enough to pay him even if I wanted to.” I shudder, even thinking about the remote possibility of having to sell the Gingerbread Café.
“I can give you the money.”
“No, no way.”
Damon frowns. But I don’t want anyone to bail me out. That’s what got me into the mess in the first place. Easier if I pretend it’s no big deal in front of Damon and CeeCee until I plan exactly how to extricate myself from Joel’s clutches.
He sighs softly. “You can call it a loan if that makes you feel better.”
“Thanks, but I need to sort this out myself. Once and for all.”
“I forgot — feisty Lil.” He leans forward to kiss me. I grab the scruff of his shirt and pull him in the water fully clothed. He yelps, and then gives in, lying atop me, just at the right angle for serious smooching.
“Feisty, did you say?” I challenge him.
“Feisty and beautiful,” he murmurs. I kiss the words from his lips, and pull at the buttons of his drenched jeans.
***
Tidying the last of the dinner dishes away, I hear the patter of little feet behind me. Charlie’s blond hair’s a tangled mess from sleep and she clutches an old teddy, so worn out it’s mostly gray in color.
“Hey, kiddo, you OK?” I ask gently.
She lifts a hand to shield her eyes from the light.
“I woke up and forgot where I was.” Her bottom lip trembles slightly — I think of how hard it must be for her, this new life, without her parents together under the same roof.
Careful not to overstep my mark, I motion to the family room. “Why don’t you go on in to your daddy, and I’ll make you a nice cup of hot cocoa?”
She looks over her shoulder, then shakes her head. “Can you read me a story?”
I wipe my hands on the tea towel, and nod. “I sure can. Let’s tell your daddy I’m going to tuck you in.”
“OK.”
We hold hands, and my heart swells. She truly is the most beautiful little girl — I wonder how Damon can stand to be parted from her when she leaves.
“Charlie.” He sits up as we enter the dimly lit room. The TV flashes in the darkness. “Did you have a bad dream?”
“No.” She falls into his arms. He lifts a hand and pushes the soft curls from her face. “It’s the room. I woke up, and got a little bit confused…”
He closes his eyes and kisses the crown of her head. “How about I get you a night light tomorrow? That might help.”
She nods her head. Their sleepy embrace is about the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.
“Lil’s gonna read me a book.”
I make a mental note to buy some pretty things for Charlie’s room so it feels as if she belongs here, and not so much as if she’s a guest in our lives.
“That sounds mighty nice,” Damon says. “Sleep tight, I’ll kiss you goodnight when I come past.” He tilts his head almost imperceptibly and gives me a look as if to check I’m happy to be the one to put her back to bed. I smile, and nod.
Back in the small room, I switch on the bedside lamp and tuck her in snug.
“Lil?”
I select a book from the small pile stacked on the shelf. “Mmm?”
“If I say I love you, that doesn’t mean I don’t love my mommy, right? I mean…she won’t be hurt, will she?”
I perch on the edge of the bed and weigh up how to answer. “You know…no one can replace the love you have for your mom or dad. By saying you care for other people as well as them just means you’ve got a big heart—” I tap her chest “—with enough love in there for everyone. I think your mom would be happy to know that you feel safe and loved here. That’s all that would matter to her.”
“So she won’t mind?”
I flash her a smile. “Seems to me she’d be pretty proud of you. And you can tell her how much you miss her while you’re here, because I’m sure she’s missing you.”
Charlie nods sagely. “I do miss her, but I miss you and Daddy when I’m gone too.”
“We do too, but that only makes it so much more fun when you come back.”
“I love CeeCee too. My mommy says she sounds like a funny lady.”
We giggle. “See? Sounds like your mom is happy that you’re having fun while you’re here.”
“OK.” Charlie puts her teddy bear under her arm. “Will you do special voices when you get to the part about the wolf?” She points to the book.
I relax against the bedhead. “I sure can.”
