A Christmas to Remember (16 page)

Carrie watched his shadow, wondering what the kids would ask him, how he would talk to them. She wondered if David would ask him to help build something like he always asked Carrie to do, or if Olivia would dress him up in her dress-up accessories. The thought warmed her. This part would be easy. Now that she’d gotten him here, even if it was only fifteen minutes, she could easily show him what to do. He was going to play with the kids, and they would never forget it, she was certain. Spending time with them would tell them how much he thought of them, how much he cared.

They were all turning to go, and Joyce was assisting Walter with his walker, as Olivia asked from inside the fort, “Will you stay and play with us, Daddy?”

“I can’t,” she heard him say gently. “I have to finish my work. But you two have fun, okay?”

Carrie’s heart fell. She knew what kind of pressure he was under to get his work done, but she’d hoped, watching him, that he’d stay and play, seize the moment.

“Okay,” Olivia said quietly.

“Bye, Daddy,” David called as Adam lifted the sheet and crawled out. Sharon shook her head at him. She spun around and darted out of the room. Eric and Joyce followed her.

Carrie’s hopes for that moment had just come tumbling down around her. She wondered which was worse: him just not being there at all, or being there and then letting them down. The kids were disappointed; she could tell by their voices. And it had been all her fault. She should have left him in his office. The kids had been so excited about the fort—she should have left well enough alone. The splotches were beginning to crawl up her neck as Adam approached her.

Bruce started to help Walter get to the door, but Walter stopped and hobbled over to Adam. He grabbed Adam’s arm and went with him to the door. Unprompted, Walter guided him just out of earshot of the children, put his quivering hand on Adam’s shoulder, and said with a smile, “Do you know what I used to love to watch you do?” Adam shook his head. “When you were seven, and you came to visit me and your Grandma,” he looked up at the ceiling and smiled again, his bushy eyebrows going up, creating long creases on his forehead, “you used to make forts like that,” he pointed toward the children, “in my back woods. Do you remember? You’d stay out there all day until dark. You’ve always been a builder of things. You built the model train village with your dad at twelve, you built your first home brewery using that kit in college, and now you’re building a business. I’m proud of ya, son. I just wish you’d work on building one more thing for me.” That pensive look sheeted over Adam’s face, the skin between his eyes wrinkling. “Build your family,” Walter said. “The fort’s gone now. So’s the home brewery and the village. It will all go. But family stays.”

Carrie felt as if she were intruding by listening, so she took a step back. Walter’s words had caused a storm of thoughts to flood her mind: she thought about how right he was, and it made her feel inadequate again and lonely. Certainly, Adam needed some help making his family, but he
had
a family. Carrie had never married, she had no children, nothing to build. Was she wasting her skills on others when she should just quit and focus on herself a while? She pondered that question all the time, but she didn’t know where to go or what to do. There was no clear path to follow.

The buzz of a rev-up car came from inside the fort. Adam stood very quietly as he took in Walter’s suggestion. His only movement was when he slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He seemed to be thinking—it always showed on his face. Finally, he said, “I’m working on a deal that will more than triple our distribution on the East Coast,” Adam said. “It’s a game-changer. I’m the only one who can facilitate it. I know that sounds heartless, but I am up against a wall here.”

The edges of Walter’s lips turned upward into a knowing grin, his eyes showing wisdom beyond any Carrie could imagine. “No one’s doubting that you can make it happen. But more isn’t always better, young man. Now, I’m going down to your lovely, gigantic kitchen so that I can sit at the table and play solitaire the same way I do in my kitchenette at home. Bruce, do you mind walking with me?” After they left, Carrie caught Adam take one last glance at the fort before departing himself, leaving her feeling sad for him and his children, lonely for herself, and altogether confused about how she could possibly fix it all. It seemed no matter what she did, she just couldn’t get through to Adam, and as her time with the Fletcher family slipped away, she knew she wouldn’t be staying longer to help him figure it all out. In a month’s time, she’d be applying to the university back home, taking classes. Her stomach churned with the thought of it.

M
ake every moment count
.
Carrie and the children had many wonderful moments together in the fort they’d built. That night, after the kids had been put to bed, she walked into the playroom to clean up. They’d spent hours in the fort. David had added a few more sections and Olivia had decorated the inside. It was mostly empty now—just sheets, blankets, and toys—but she could almost hear the laughter and the voices of the kids as they’d played. David had been a pirate on his ship at sea and Olivia had been a Mommy, taking care of her baby. The doll was still inside the fort, covered in a small toy blanket. Instead of cleaning up, Carrie crawled inside.

The blankets were thick enough and the room dark enough that the light from the room barely penetrated the space, so she clicked on David’s flashlight. As she sat cross-legged, her head at an odd angle because of the height of the art table she was under, she felt the irritation and frustration coming back. Adam had real demands of his work, but he had a family too. He couldn’t just not do the job—she understood—but he couldn’t just not raise his children either. They were only with him a short time, and then they’d be back with their mother. It all made her feel helpless, more helpless than she felt about her own life. For her, it was just a matter of doing something else and finding her way. This job would end, and she could take a different path in life. But with Adam, this was something he’d built and worked very hard to achieve. She couldn’t expect him to just give it up. He had a huge house to pay for, bills, children to support. A hopeless feeling snaked through her chest.

A book on workaholics would offer suggestions on how to get the person to stop working so much. That wouldn’t help. A book about balancing family and work certainly couldn’t address the problem of having a career that demanded more than someone could offer. The more she thought about it, the more Carrie realized that Adam’s problem wasn’t an issue of choice, it was an issue of time. He only had twenty-four hours in the day, and that wasn’t enough time to get it all done. He wasn’t being standoffish or heartless; he wanted to be able to do it all, she could tell, but he just couldn’t. What bothered her was that he didn’t realize that having children who didn’t know their father was worse than having to give a little at work. As the thoughts went around in her head, confusion mixed with anger. Almost every time she put him in the path of his children, it backfired. She felt like she couldn’t be what the children needed her to be because she’d always been able to make the children she cared for happy and well behaved. She’d never faced an obstacle like this one, and it tortured her that she couldn’t find an answer. She wanted to be angry with someone—at him—but she couldn’t.

The side of the sheet went up beside her, startling her. When she saw who it was, she took in a sharp breath, her heart going wild. Carrie hadn’t expected to see anyone in the playroom—the family was all downstairs and Adam had been in his office until this very minute when his head poked through the opening in the fort. To her surprise, he crawled in beside her. On a regular day, he had such an authoritative presence that it was almost intimidating, but when he let down his guard, there was a realness to him that she loved. She ached for him to talk in a soft voice like he did with the children, that curiosity in his eyes, that smile on his lips. She wondered what he looked like asleep with his eyes closed, when he was the most vulnerable, when there was nothing pulling on him, nothing consuming his time.

The beam from the flashlight hit his face in a harsh way, showing the exhaustion on his forehead and under his eyes. He had on a sweater that made his eyes more blue, jeans, and socks—one was inside out, and Carrie had to swallow her smile. This gorgeous, wealthy man, who worked at a job she probably didn’t even understand, had put his sock on inside out just like she probably would if she were in a rush. Even though his inattention to his family made her crazy, something as simple as that could make her smile. She tried to hide it, but she knew that her emotions were showing on her face. The heat of the splotches began to tickle her neck, and she felt her breathing speed up as a result. Her pulse was up in her ears, and she couldn’t get a breath.

He looked at her curiously, his eyebrows furrowing just a little, and in a different way than they did when he was working, as if he were responding to her smile, which he hadn’t ever done before. It was clear that he was thinking something, like something was registering, but he wouldn’t let it show.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked. His gaze roamed around her face. It made her feel anxious. She didn’t know how to be anything more than a nanny—she wasn’t practiced, she hadn’t read up on it at all. She didn’t know how to respond to a look like that with anything more than utter confusion. She didn’t know how to be charming and flirty, even though when he looked at her like that, she wanted to know how. She’d have to go with her gut, and it scared her. There was a part of her that thought she wasn’t good enough to catch the eye of someone like Adam Fletcher. She worried that she was misreading him, but he had definitely responded to her smile, and it was clear by the softness in his eyes that he was trying to ease her nerves. What he didn’t realize was that by looking at her like that it was making them worse.

“I was…” What should she say? She was thinking about him. How could she explain herself? “I was…”
Ugh!
she thought. He got her so flustered that she couldn’t even get a lie right! She could be doing anything: picking up the toys, looking for an earring, getting the flashlight… But, when he looked at her, she couldn’t get a coherent string of words together.

“You were what?” he asked, his voice gentle, his face too close to hers. As she scrambled for an answer to his question, she heard that little huff of laughter, and, when she finally made eye contact, he was smiling at her. She felt woozy. Maybe it was the dark or the long day. She didn’t know. Suddenly, she couldn’t get anything to come out of her mouth. She was staring at him, to her horror.
Say something!
she scolded herself, but all she heard was silence. It was like that nightmare where she would scream and nothing would come out. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to be with his kids and to be with her, spend time with her. It was stupid. She wouldn’t have the first idea of what to do in a romantic situation. She’d have to buy a book on it before she could even react to any advances. But, even knowing all of that, she felt something that she couldn’t explain. Something that she’d never felt before.

“You’re not going to answer?” he asked, and she realized that she’d never responded to his question.

“I was thinking about you,” she answered honestly and then nearly fell over face-first once she realized she’d said it out loud.

He showed a look of surprise but hid it well, his eyes blinking just a little too much, giving him away. It was quick—barely recognizable except for the fact that she’d been so in tune to his expressions lately. He was probably used to hiding his emotions. In business he had to be on his game, pokerfaced. Even if someone threw him a curveball, he had to maintain composure—that was what made a good businessman, Carrie could imagine. She’d just thrown one of those curveballs. While the surprise was gone, it had been replaced by a crooked grin. It made her cheeks feel tingly, and she worried that the splotches were coming again.

She knew she’d have to explain herself, and she didn’t want to harp on the whole you-don’t-spend-time-with-your-family issue because she was almost sure that he’d heard enough of that today. But the alternative to telling him that was to tell him what she’d actually been thinking about just now—how he made her feel. She wouldn’t dare admit it; she knew how ridiculous it would sound having only just met him, but there was something there on her end, and she couldn’t explain why.

“I’m sure you’ve heard enough from everyone else,” she finally said. “I just wish you had more hours in the day.” She shifted to move away from him, their body heat under the blankets making her warm in her sweater. He shifted too as if getting comfortable, but it moved him closer to her and they were back where they’d started in proximity. Then it occurred to her: Why had he crawled into the fort anyway? “
I’m
in the fort because I was thinking. Why are you in the fort?” she said, glad that she’d mustered up enough courage to say something articulate.

“Mom said you weren’t at supper, and I was checking on you.” His voice was kind and quiet, the type of voice she imagined he’d have in the dark after everyone had gone to sleep and it was just the two of them. She knew better than to let herself think things like that, and the uneasiness from thinking it caused her to feel claustrophobic, the heat becoming too much, making her face feel like it was on fire. She pushed her way out from under the blankets, resisting the urge to gulp the cool air. Adam crawled out after her.

“So you were downstairs at supper?” It was forward of her to even inquire, but she couldn’t help it. She knew better by this point than to hope, but she did just the same.

“I wanted to make sure Sharon was okay,” he said. She could see the insecurity in his face when he said it.

“And was she?”

“No, she was upset.” He took in a deep breath and let it out. “She wants me to spend more time with my kids and less at work. She thinks I’m taking them for granted. I see them once a month and most holidays. I knew how much time my work would require when Gwen and I discussed custody. I can’t help it that my profession requires a lot of me. Sharon doesn’t realize that I’ve lost a lot, too. I’ve lost my wife, the life that I’d tried to build with her, and a huge amount of time with my kids. Don’t you think it makes me feel guilty?” his voice was almost pleading as if he
wanted
her to help him fix it. “Gwen broke my trust. She ran off with someone else, and I felt broken. Work made me stronger. It helped me to refocus. Do you know what it’s like to see my own children so infrequently that they barely respond when I enter a room? It feels terrible. I didn’t just lose Gwen; I lost them too. It breaks my heart to see them stand there and look at me the way they do. The brewery is my outlet. What am I supposed to do?” he asked, exasperated.

He was on edge, his face crumpled in a scowl, his lips pressed together, his body tense—but for some unknown reason, Adam was letting his guard down. Maybe he was just falling apart, she wasn’t sure, but he was opening up to her. The fact that he could be candid with her made her feel warm despite the icy cold outside. She knew his irritation wasn’t directed at her. Everything she’d tried to get him closer to his family hadn’t worked, and she had absolutely no idea how she was going to help him, but she wanted to. More than anything.

How could she help him when his work required all his time? She understood his frustration because she, too, felt it. This was so hard, harder probably than anything else she’d ever done, but in trying, she felt strong. She was so close, she knew it. Adam was right here, being open and honest with her, which was a step in the right direction. Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, she felt confident in trying to work it out.

She hadn’t said anything, but it was as if he could read her mind. His shoulders relaxed, and his head tilted to the side just slightly, his eyes fixed on her. It was the oddest thing: they looked at each other, and for the first time, she felt like he was on her side. Like he was going to try. Carrie knew he’d still have to leave to run the business, but she had a different perspective now. He understood what the people around him were feeling, but just like her, he didn’t know how to make it any better. As they looked at each other, it was as if they were together in this. She had no experience in it. But everything inside her wanted to help him. It wasn’t because she had a crush on him or because he was very wealthy or kind. It was because it was the first thing in a long time that she wanted to do as much as she wanted to be with children. His happiness made her feel something.

Even though Carrie had never answered him—and maybe he’d meant his question to be rhetorical—he turned toward the door, opened it wider and gestured for Carrie to exit. She still hadn’t cleaned up the fort, but he didn’t seem bothered, so she followed.

They entered the hallway together, side by side. It made her feel close to him. She wondered what it would be like to be by his side all the time. Adam’s whole life was completely different from anything she’d experienced. They walked silently together as she thought about her predicament: she was getting too invested in this family. She only had a few weeks left.

A look of wonder registered on Joyce’s face as the two of them entered the kitchen together. She scanned the both of them from top to bottom like she tended to do when she was processing the situation at hand, a small smile twitching at the corners of her lips. She was holding a glass of wine, the pile of supper dishes stacked on the counter behind her. The whole family was around the table, all their eyes on Carrie and Adam. Bruce was holding a cup of dice, some sort of marble game on the table in between them all.

“You’re a bad influence on Carrie,” Joyce said with amusement behind her words. “Now you’ve got
her
missing meals.”

She felt Adam look at her out of the corner of his eye as he laughed gently. She was not only happy that he hadn’t taken offense to Joyce’s comment, but also that Joyce had expected her at supper. She didn’t want to look up at Adam because she knew that if she saw that smile on his face, it would make focusing on the family much more difficult. She had to remember that she was the stranger in this scenario; she was the one who didn’t fit.
Would someone like Andy fit?
she wondered. She knew that she couldn’t be more to Adam than what she was. She could only be what he wanted her to be, and right now, it was just the nanny.

Sharon stood up and put her napkin on the table, causing a marble to roll across it and knock into the game board. It was the only sound in that big kitchen. “I’m finished,” she said as she scooted her chair under, standing behind it. “I’m going up to bed.” She glanced over at Adam, but this time it wasn’t an angry glance, it was a tired look, as if she were saying
I’m too exhausted to get upset.
Bruce and Eric both stood. To console her? Stop her from leaving? Carrie didn’t know. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m just tired.” She looked at Adam again.