His Christmas Gift, page 16
“Like I give a shit.”
Lacey didn’t say anything, simply walked past him and down the steps, crossing to his car to collect the crutch.
“Good news, you didn’t break it. Want to give it another shot?” She offered the crutch to him as she mounted the stairs.
“Now is not the time to be a smartass,” he told her.
“Believe it or not, I was actually trying to make you laugh, because the look on your face right now is scaring me.”
“Then don’t look at it.” He started down the steps, then realised he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t drive anywhere, and even if he could, there wasn’t any place he could go that was going to make him feel any better than here.
“Tell me what you did so I can decide if I should give you hope or not,” Lacey said.
“Just leave it, Lacey. Go back to Officer Wilder and whatever you’ve been doing and just leave it be.”
“Stop being an asshole and sit down and talk to me.”
She sank onto the step beside him, and after a long moment Sawyer joined her.
“All you need to know is that I fucked up. Big time. I thought I was helping, that I could change things for her…”
“Will you just tell me, you big stupid lump?” Lacey’s face was twisted with frustration.
He sighed heavily. “Fine.”
So he told her – about Cassie and the accident, how Jenna blamed herself, and the way Jenna and her father had drifted apart. He skirted around the things Jenna had told him in the small hours of the night, but gave Lacey enough to put the pieces together.
“So you polished up your armor and called her father,” Lacey concluded.
“Yes.”
“No wonder she was so angry. People don’t like having their lives managed without their consent, Sawyer. Take it from someone who has spent the last three years being told when she can eat, sleep, or take a dump.”
He put his head in his hands, unable to forget the cold, condemning fury in Jenna’s face as she accused him of trying to fix her. “I just wanted her to be happy. I wasn’t trying to fix her. I think she’s fucking perfect the way she is.”
Lacey shot him a sharp look. “You’re serious about her.”
“I wouldn’t have laid a finger on her if I wasn’t.”
“Is it mutual?”
“I thought it was. Note the past tense,” he said, impotent fury welling up inside him again as he thought about how badly he’d screwed up.
“What did her father say when you called?”
“He was surprised. Apparently he doesn’t get phone calls from do-gooding, interfering assholes every day. Go figure.”
“Enough of the self-flagellation. What did you say to him to make him want to come visit with Jenna?”
“I told him that Jenna missed him. And I told him that she blamed herself for Cassie dying, and that one of them had to break the deadlock or they were going to spend another twenty Christmases apart.”
“Wow. Hold back next time, why don’t you. How did he respond?”
“He sounded pretty shaken up. He said he had no idea, and I told him he should talk to his daughter. We left it at that.”
“What, you didn’t book his flight? Pack his bags for him?”
He shot his sister a look. She gave him a sympathetic smile.
“At least your heart was in the right place.”
“I betrayed her trust. I should have just minded my own business.”
Lacey nodded a few times, her gaze on her toes of her steel-capped boots. “In theory, I agree with you. And you definitely have more than your fair share of the responsibility gene. But…”
“But what?”
“Maybe you just made it possible for two people to talk to each other. Maybe you made something happen that wasn’t going to happen without someone giving them a nudge.”
“You’re just saying that to try to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?”
“No.” Because Jenna had been in his arms, in his bed. She’d committed to spending Christmas day with him. And now she was gone, and he had no idea when he’d see her again. If he’d seen her again.
Lacey sighed and used her hands on her knees to push herself to her feet. “Here’s what I know about Jenna. She’s smart, and she stays cool under pressure. I’ve never seen her lose her temper, and that’s probably because she thinks things through before she opens her mouth. Give her a chance to cool down. Give her a chance to think. And maybe she’ll let you make it up to her.”
Sawyer stared at his sister. Then he fixed his gaze on the barn. Right now, he wasn’t sure he had the right to hope.
“It’s freezing out here. You want to come back inside?”
“You go. I’m enjoying the view.”
She rolled her eyes at him and climbed the stairs to the porch. A couple of seconds later, his jacket sailed through the air, hitting him on the back of the head.
“At least put your jacket on, idiot,” she called before shutting the door.
Sawyer shrugged into his coat, but it didn’t take away the chill of fear. He’d just screwed up his future, and he had no idea if he was going to get a chance to correct his mistake.
*
Jenna’s condo looked strange when she let herself in. For a moment she stood on the threshold, blinking at the duck-egg blue walls and light, neutral furniture, and wondered where in the hell she was. She’d only been away for a week, but it felt like a lifetime. First she’d been sick, and then she’d fallen for Sawyer, and that had felt so profound, so huge, the rest of her life had receded to become white noise.
She kicked her door shut behind her and dumped her overnight bag inside the small laundry room off her kitchen. Her cheeks felt stiff from the angry tears she’d shed on the way home, and she went into the bathroom to wash her face. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she almost laughed when she saw the spots on her forehead and cheek. After days of looking disgusting, they’d finally faded to dull pink marks. In a week or so, she might almost be back to her old self.
Perfect timing. Not.
She walked into her bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. She felt profoundly tired after the long drive, more so than it probably merited. She was still so angry with Sawyer. And hurt.
Mostly, she was terrified of what her father might say when she saw him.
Pulling back the quilt, she crawled beneath it and closed her eyes. When she opened them again it was dark. She flicked her bedside table light on, then sat up and scrubbed her face with her hands. Then she threw back the covers.
She wasn’t a wallower and she wasn’t about to start now.
She was heading for the kitchen when someone knocked on the front door. Adrenaline tightened her stomach, but when she looked thorough the spyhole it was only her neighbor, Sally.
Not Sawyer, come to plead his case.
Just as well, because she was still furious with him.
“Hi Sal,” she said, opening the door but not stepping forward to hug her neighbor. “Careful – remember I’m contagious.”
“I almost forgot. You look pretty good for someone who has adult chicken pox,” Sally said.
She was holding a brown, paper-wrapped parcel, and Jenna’s heart sank. She could have done without dealing with her father’s Christmas present right now.
“I think I’m on the downhill run now,” she said, forcing a smile.
Sally offered her the box. “I figured you might want this ASAP, since it’s from your dad.”
“Thanks.”
“I’m going back slowly away from the germs now. No offence.”
“None taken. I wouldn’t wish The Pox on anyone.”
Sally waved goodbye, and Jenna carried the parcel into the kitchen.
Sally had opened the top of the parcel to find the card she’d read to Jenna over the phone, but otherwise it was intact. Jenna looked inside and discovered a cheerfully wrapped smallish box that had been cushioned by a wad of bubble wrap. Taking out the gift, she used her thumbnail to ease each piece of tape away from the paper, peeling it pack to reveal a boxed set of the Anne of Green Gables TV series. Her father had written on a sticky note stuck to the front of the box: I remember you and Cassie used to love this when you were younger. I saw it and thought of you both. I hope it brings back fond memories.
Jenna bowed her head. She and Cassie had, indeed, spent hours watching the adventures of Anne and her friends. Cassie had been obsessed with the Anne series after reading the books, and Jenna had endured many, many repeat viewings. She’d complained heartily each time, but secretly she’d been as in love with the world of Prince Edward Island as her little sister.
Sliding the first DVD free from the box sleeve, she crossed to her DVD player and turned it on. Then she made herself scrambled eggs and got into her pajamas to watch Anne of Green Gables. The theme music came up, along with the familiar credits, and it was all so close to what she remembered it made her chest ache and her eyes sting. She watched it all, though, and when it was finished she put the second disc in. It was better than thinking about Sawyer, or what her father might want to talk about, and it made her feel close to her little sister at a time when Cassie was already very much on her mind.
It was one in the morning by the time she turned the TV off and went to bed. Lying in the dark, she remembered what it had been like to fall asleep with her head on Sawyer’s chest last night, the sound of his steady breathing beneath her ear.
She’d felt so safe. So special. So lucky.
“Damn you, Sawyer,” she whispered in the dark.
Eventually she fell asleep, waking midmorning to the unfamiliar sound of traffic outside. How strange that she’d become so used to the quiet at Sawyer’s farm so quickly.
The day loomed ahead of her, empty and lonely. If she was in Marietta still, she’d be helping Sawyer and Lacey prepare for Christmas day. But she wasn’t, she was here, living her life. The one she’d been perfectly happy with until a week ago.
She made a decision while she was showering – the office would be closed, but she had a key. She would go into work and sort through her in-tray, spring clean her office. Then when she came back after the holidays, she’d be ahead of the game.
Even in her own mind it smacked of desperate busywork, but she was more than prepared to cling to the small task if it helped get her through the next few days. Her Volvo was the only car in the underground garage when she arrived at work, and she felt like the last person alive as she punched in her security code to let herself into the quiet, dark building.
She flicked on the main office lights, then walked to her office and considered her desk. Staring at her in-tray and powered-down computer, she realized that burying herself in work wasn’t going to cut it this time. The hurt that Sawyer had inflicted, the grief and fear she was grappling with, were not feelings she could simply file away.
“But the truly sad thing is, you have nothing better to do,” she said out loud.
Shedding her jacket, she hung it on the back of her chair and got to work.
She spent the day clearing out old paperwork, sorting out things for shredding and archiving, and making room in her filing cabinet for current cases. Lunch was a couple of snack bars from the pack in her desk drawer, washed down with a cup of instant coffee. It was nearly four and the light was fading from the sky when her phone rang, shattering the cocoon of quiet and industry she’d wrapped around herself.
She picked up her phone and recognized the number as the one her father had called from yesterday.
Here we go.
Taking a deep breath, she took the call.
“Hello?
“Jenna. It’s me again. Listen, I’ve been thinking. Is there no way we could get together sooner? I can drive to wherever you are. I’d really like to see you.”
She sat on the edge of her desk. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow, if you want to catch up then. But I’m guessing you already have plans.”
She didn’t. Not anymore.
“I can make it to Billings by noon if I leave early. Is there someplace we can go for lunch?”
She rubbed her face with her hand. What exactly had Sawyer told her father to generate this kind of urgency?
“Let me do some Googling. I’m sure there will be some place offering a turkey dinner.”
“Great. I’ve got your address. Shall I pick you up at noon?”
“Sounds good.”
She stared at her phone for a long time after ending the call. Then she turned to her computer and searched until she found a local hotel that was offering Christmas lunch with all the trimmings for a set fee. She rang and managed to get a table for two, thanks to a last minute cancellation.
The hard-won numbness she’d managed to achieve was long gone, and she tidied up the last few things on her desk before shutting her computer down and going home.
She watched the last of the Anne discs that night, huddled on her couch, trying not to think about anything except what was on the screen in front of her. At midnight she went to bed, tossing and turning until she finally slipped into uneasy sleep.
Her stomach was a nervous mess the next day, so she passed on breakfast and instead concentrated on what to wear. She hadn’t seen her father for six years. She wasn’t sure what face she wanted to present to him. If she could get away with it, she would have been tempted to wear one of her work suits – she could hide behind her professional mask then and protect herself. But it was Christmas Day, and she’d look odd in a suit. She wound up opting for a pair of tailored navy, slim-leg trousers, pairing it with a polka-dot blouse with a Peter Pan collar and a cute little red blazer she’d bought a couple of months previously. She straightened her hair and did what she could with make-up to distract from the spots on her face. Then she paced, walking up and down between her TV and the couch, wearing a path in the pile on the rug.
She thought about what her father might say, and tried to come up with strategies for handling herself in various scenarios. She thought about Sawyer, wondering what he and Lacey were doing. Even though she was still angry with him, the thought of how today might have been if he hadn’t taken it upon himself to try to fix her life made her eyes burn with unshed tears.
Waking in his bed on Christmas Day would have been pretty damned amazing. How she wished he’d spoken to her or second guessed his decision to call her father. God, how she wished it.
At five to twelve, she collected her coat and bag and took a deep, calming breath. Her father had always been punctual, and she had no reason to believe he’d changed. She took the lift to the foyer and slipped into her coat.
It was crazy, but now that the moment was almost upon her, the one person she wanted to talk to was the person who’d masterminded this whole mess—Sawyer. She wanted to hear his calm, deep voice. She wanted him to say something steady and real to her.
That wasn’t going to happen, however, so she buttoned her coat and stepped outside to wait for her father. She’d only been standing at the curb for five minutes when a deep maroon sedan signaled and pulled over.
“You shouldn’t have waited out in the cold,” her father said as he opened his car door.
“It wasn’t for long. I figured you’d be on time.”
He climbed out of the car, and she saw with a shock that he’d lost a lot of weight since she’d last seen him. He’d always been a little thick around the middle, but he looked fitter than she’d ever seen him. His hair was more grey than red these days, but apart from the weight and the hair, he still looked like her father.
He stopped in front of her, his gaze moving over her face, no doubt cataloguing the changes in her, too.
“You seem to have gotten off lightly on the chicken pox front. I was covered in blisters when I had it as a kid.”
“I had some help from antivirals,” Jenna said.
“That’s good to hear.” Her father’s eyes wrinkled at the corners as he offered her a smile. “You look lovely, kiddo. Really lovely.”
Jenna wasn’t sure who moved first, her or him, but the next thing she knew she was in his arms. He squeezed her tight, and she breathed in his familiar smell, and something slipped free inside her and suddenly she was crying.
“God. I’m so sorry,” she said, pulling back.
“Don’t be,” he said. “I don’t mind.”
She saw that his eyes were wet, too. For a long moment they simply stared at each other, then he glanced at the building over her shoulder.
“Would you mind very much if we missed out on lunch? I’d rather talk to you, to be honest.”
“I can live without turkey,” she said.
He locked his car, and she led him into her building. Together they rode up to her floor.
“You’ve been here a few years now, haven’t you?” he asked, looking around with interest as they walked down the hallway to her condo.
“Three years, yes.”
“I was glad you bought in this neighborhood,” he said.
She shot him a quick look, surprised by the comment. He’d never lived in Billings – how would he know if this was a good neighborhood or not?
He must have guessed what she was thinking, because he answered her unspoken question.
“I asked a coworker when you sent me your change of address,” he said.
She unlocked the door to her condo and stood aside to let him enter. He walked a couple of steps inside and stopped, taking in the decor, the layout of the furniture, the photographs on the bookshelf – herself and Cassie, a family snap taken on vacation when her mother was alive.
“This is nice. Really nice. You always liked blue.”
“Well, it doesn’t clash with my hair, so…” She gestured for him to take a seat. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Water would be great.”
She went into the kitchen and brought a bottle of mineral water and two glasses back to the living room.
“I know Sawyer called you. I’m not sure what he said, but I didn’t ask him to call you. I want you to know that,” she said, blurting the words out as she sat beside him.
“So he didn’t tell you what he said to me?”
