Holly Lane (Destiny, Ohio) Page 19

  “Kitchen?” he said in playful denial. “What are you talking about? I, uh, gotta go. My dog is home alone and probably misses me.”

  “Adam,” Sophie said, crossing her arms just like Sue Ann sometimes did before a scolding, “you promised Mommy you’d clean up the cookie mess.”

  He gave his head an innocent tilt. “I did?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  “Okay, okay—ya got me,” he finally surrendered. Then he pushed to his feet. “Guess I’d better get busy.”

  And he’d just started to trudge toward the next room when Sophie grabbed onto the tail of his thermal shirt. “Wait.”

  He turned back, looking down at her.

  “Thanks for making cookies and sled riding with us today. You make everything more fun.” And then she hugged him.

  Wow. Sue Ann hadn’t seen that coming. Watching filled her with an overwhelming thankfulness for having him in their lives—and in that moment it had nothing to do with her, with the warmth she felt in his presence or the new ways she’d come to know him recently. Right now it was all about Sophie, and simply being glad he made her happy.

  Adam stooped down and returned her daughter’s hug, saying, “I had fun, too, kiddo. It was a nice afternoon.”

  Indeed it was. And sometimes that was all you needed in life. A nice afternoon. A good day. Good people in your world. And Sue Ann realized just then, with full clarity, that she was more fortunate than she’d stopped to realize for a while.

  Fourteen

  . . . the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely . . .

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  When Sue Ann walked back downstairs after tucking Sophie in, the sleeves of her turtleneck laden with pastel snowflakes pushed up from helping with the bath, she felt pleasantly tired, the kind of tired that comes from a day well spent. The fire still crackling in the hearth combined with the glow from the Christmas tree to cast warm light across the room, and holiday music played softly. She paused at the foot of the staircase to spend a moment taking it in.

  Then she lifted her gaze to see Adam, sleeves also bunched on his forearms, wiping his hands on a dish towel as he entered the living room. “What’s up?” he asked quietly.

  Sue Ann looked again at the cozy space, then back to Adam. “Guess I was just thinking that . . . maybe this Christmas isn’t so horrible after all. It’s still hard, sure, but . . . it’s not turning out nearly as awful as I thought. And I couldn’t have dreamed I’d say that a few weeks ago.”

  Coming to stand next to her, he gave a small nod. “For me, too. God knows I’m missing my kids, and I haven’t exactly been merry, but . . . at times, the holidays have been . . . downright nice this year. Like tonight.”

  His gaze locked on hers in the firelight and she suffered a familiar stirring low in her belly—but she wasn’t going to let it get the best of her. Even if a part of her wondered if she could let herself ease into a relationship with Adam, for now it was best to keep things simple. So she stepped around him toward an end table where a bowl of popcorn sat. “Want to help me string popcorn? Sophie’s class is decorating a tree in the schoolyard with all edible items, for the birds. I’m on popcorn detail and I started last night but didn’t get to finish.”

  “Sure,” he said. “I haven’t strung popcorn since I was a kid. My grandma used to put it on her tree. Cranberries, too.”

  “Yeah, it’s actually really pretty on a tree. Very light and fluffy-looking. My mom and I used to always put a couple of strands on our tree, then drape it outside after Christmas for the birds to take—but I guess I stopped the tradition after I got married.”

  Taking a seat on the couch, Sue Ann passed Adam the partial strand she’d already started, then threaded another needle to begin a new string of her own. They worked in companionable silence for a minute before she finally announced, “Guess what? I got a job.” She’d had plenty of opportunity to share the news with him through the day, but maybe she’d somehow wanted to save it for a time when it was just the two of them.

  His eyes lit up when he looked at her. “Really?”

  With her enthusiasm remaining in full swing, she proceeded to tell him all about the promotion to office manager, concluding with, “I still want to pursue selling, too, but I’m excited about this! Not only the increase in income, but also the new challenge—I feel really ready for that right now.”

  Even as he cast a grin her way, it surprised her when he raised his eyebrows. Until he pointed out, “You mean you haven’t had enough challenges lately?”

  But she just shrugged, smiling. “Different kind of challenge. Better kind of challenge.”

  “That’s great, Sue Ann, really,” he said. “I know how worried you were, so I can imagine what a weight that must lift off your shoulders.”

  She nodded again, still pleased with the change in circumstance—and then grew bold enough to ask about the other big topic they hadn’t yet discussed. “So, um . . . what did you decide about testifying for Jeff? Or have you?”

  And his grin faded to something more solemn before he replied, “The truth is, guess I’ve been avoiding giving him an answer—because the more time that goes by, the more I know I don’t want to do it. Since you and I have gotten closer than we used to be, it just doesn’t seem right.”

  That warmed her heart for lots of reasons, yet she still felt the need to confirm. “So you’re going to tell him no?”

  “That’s the plan,” he said. No hesitation.

  And Sue Ann just nodded. Because she didn’t want to make a huge deal of it. But wow, what a colossal relief! Between her new job and this . . . well, it was enough to make her think all of Tessa’s positive thinking and Amy’s book mantras were paying off. Slowly but surely, it seemed the things that had frightened her the most lately were beginning to work themselves out.

  Still, she knew this was big for Adam, and she didn’t want to downplay that part. “I’m sure it’ll be hard to feel like you’re letting him down.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “Yeah, it will. And we might not be friends anymore afterward—that’ll be up to him to decide.”

  Sue Ann said nothing in reply, as no answer seemed needed; she simply resumed working on her popcorn, torn between her own relief and the difficulty the decision had caused Adam.

  “So,” he said a moment later, “Sophie’s doing okay? With all the changes?”

  The shift in subject threatened to dampen Sue Ann’s mood, but as she pondered the question that still haunted her daily, she tried to view it more logically than emotionally. “She seems fine most of the time. But there are moments when she gets easily upset or seems more . . . needy than before. Like over the kitten at Amy’s store. I so want to make this first Christmas without Jeff at home a nice one, to show her life is still good. But the fact that I can’t give her what she wants is just going to be one more disappointment.”

  “And I made things worse with my reindeer promise,” he said, sounding guilty.

  Though that hadn’t been her intent. “You didn’t promise, and I really do understand why you caved on that, so I don’t blame you. I just think Christmas morning might be . . . a little rough around here.”

  “You could always let her have the kitten. That would probably make up for the reindeer.”

  Yet next to him, Sue Ann sighed. “Sometime I think I should. But . . . I just don’t know if I can deal with a kitten right now. Because no matter how you slice it, most of the work would fall to me. And I’ll be home a lot less soon. And . . . hell, Adam, some days I don’t feel like I can handle even one more thing, you know?”

  The look of bewilderment in his eyes, though, caught her off guard. “No, I don’t know. Because you say stuff like that, but you seem like you’re handling everything fine from where I stand. With grace and dignity. You can handle a lot more than you think, sugar plum.”

  Wow. She was
handling her divorce with grace and dignity? Her?

  But then, on second thought . . . maybe she was. Maybe in some moments she still saw herself as she’d been at her worst; maybe she couldn’t quite stop remembering herself as that hysterical woman who’d shown up barefoot at Jenny’s house in the middle of the night. Maybe she’d come a long way toward healing and was only just slowly beginning to realize it.

  “Thank you,” she finally said, her voice small in the quiet room, barely audible above the hiss and pop of the fire. “So how are the boys?” she asked then, louder, because she didn’t want to start acting mushy or fragile.

  “Still enjoying their time out West,” he said, “but . . . I think they’re also starting to miss home. Seven’s pretty young to go away that long, which is something that concerned me in the beginning.”

  “It really is a long time at that age. Heck, a month is a pretty long time at any age. But Christmas is right around the corner, so they’ll be back soon.”

  “I won’t lie—I still miss ’em like crazy,” Adam told her. “But . . . days like this help.”

  “I’m glad,” she said. “And they help me, too—because, well, you heard Sophie. Having you here made everything more fun for her.”

  “More fun for you, too?” he asked speculatively.

  And Sue Ann felt a little put on the spot. She didn’t like admitting her answer, or the reason for it. She wanted to pretend they were just friends, that this was all just strictly platonic. That was what she’d wanted this to be when she’d invited him over, after all. But as the day progressed . . . well, lying to herself about it seemed pretty fruitless at this point. And she couldn’t quite bring herself to lie to him, either—finally saying, “Yes, more fun for me, too.” But she kept her eyes on her popcorn and needle, even as her skin prickled at the small confession.

  “You know, you were right about what you said that night in the cabin,” he told her, the statement seeming to come out of the blue. “Trying to save my marriage would have been futile. There was too much wrong with it. And in fairness to Sheila . . . I know I blamed it all on her, but when things started to fizzle, maybe I became emotionally . . . distant or something. Maybe that’s why she started getting jealous and paranoid.”

  “All this just suddenly hit you?” she couldn’t help asking. Especially given that he’d originally been so close-mouthed about his divorce. But maybe this meant he felt he could confide in her now.

  “Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think with the boys gone—more time than usual in a quiet house, just me and the dog.” He fished in the big bowl sitting between them on the couch for another piece of popcorn. “And figuring out that part of the fault lies with me, too, was kind of a revelation. Nobody’s . . . completely blameless.”

  Sue Ann sucked in her breath as the idea permeated her—and stung a little. She paused, a fluffy kernel between her fingertips, and lifted her gaze cautiously to his. “Do you think part of the fault lies with me—when it comes to Jeff?”

  “That’s not what I meant—I was only talking about my marriage.”

  “But what you said . . . sort of makes sense. About no one being blameless. I just . . . haven’t let myself think much about that up to now.”

  He shrugged and said, “I thought he was happy. He always seemed like it.”

  “I thought he was happy, too,” she agreed. “Life was good. Sex was good. But . . . maybe there was something he needed that I wasn’t giving.”

  The room felt unusually quiet then, even despite the music and the crackling of the fire. She’d spent all these months being angry at Jeff, feeling so beat up and abandoned—and she’d even wondered if those little things about her had somehow driven him away, things like her loud laughter and tendency to blab. But she’d never once allowed herself to truly ask what she was asking now: Was it somehow my fault, too? Could I have been a better wife in some way? It was a scary moment for her, especially when Adam gently asked, “Like what?”

  Sue Ann swallowed past the small lump swelling in her throat, and let herself speculate out loud. “Maybe I . . . got too wrapped up in my own life, or in being a mom. Or maybe I didn’t appreciate him enough in some way.”

  “Or maybe,” Adam began slowly, “it wasn’t you at all. Maybe . . . he just got tired of being perfect.”

  She blinked. “Huh?”

  “You guys were pretty perfect,” he pointed out. “Perfect couple in high school. Perfect little family. But it gets hard being perfect. Always doing the right thing, making the right moves, the moves everybody expects. So maybe it wasn’t even about you. Maybe it was about something bigger. Maybe he just didn’t want to be perfect anymore.”

  Adam sounded clear-minded on this, but Sue Ann remained confused. “I’m not sure I get it.”

  That’s when he abandoned his string of popcorn in his lap. “I’m just thinking . . . you always thought I was awful damn perfect, right? Until I started acting like an ass a few weeks ago. And until I told you what happened with Sheila.”

  “I guess,” she said, his point still lost on her.

  “The thing is, on the night of that wedding, that’s part of what I was feeling. I was tired of always being the guy who did the right thing, who was always responsible, dependable, who never did anything wrong. It’s a lot of pressure. I mean, sometimes I feel like people hold me to a higher standard than they hold themselves—just because they think I’m such a good guy. They expect me to always, always be that good guy, no matter what. And I was so fed up that I just . . . wanted to do what I felt like doing in that moment, for once in my life, without weighing all the right and wrong of it.

  “And I regretted it—because I am a good guy. But I’m just saying . . . maybe there were things in Jeff’s life that he wished he’d done differently. And when he finally broke down and did something different, it happened to be something that affected you severely.”

  Sue Ann swallowed, a stab of guilt attacking her out of nowhere. “He wanted to go away to OSU with you after high school, remember? And I talked him out of it. I talked him into staying here with me and going to the community college in Crestview because I was afraid I’d lose him if he left.”

  Adam’s jaw went slack. “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  She bit her lip, nodded. “I asked him not to tell anyone. Because I didn’t want his parents or friends to think I was holding him back. And Prince Charming that he was—at the time—he took total responsibility for the decision. Even with me—he told me he’d decided he really didn’t want to go. But deep down, I knew he had doubts. I was just too selfish and insecure to ever explore them—I was just happy he was staying here with me.”

  “Well, even so, the choice was his,” Adam replied, clearly trying to make her feel better. “He must have wanted you more than he wanted OSU.”

  She let out a sigh, thought back through it all. “He never seemed unhappy with the choice,” she agreed. “Still . . . if he’d gone to OSU, maybe it would have worked out that he’d have been more satisfied with his life now.”

  Yet Adam just shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe, maybe not. And . . . don’t think I’m taking up for him, okay? I’ve told you before, I don’t like the way he’s handled anything about this situation.”

  But now Sue Ann had delved deeper into this idea that Jeff wasn’t the only one to blame, and it was making her ask herself still more questions, continue to examine it in this new way. “Maybe I quit working—at my marriage,” she suggested. “Maybe I thought everything was so perfect that I didn’t even have to try anymore.”

  After a moment, Adam blew out a long breath and said, “Yeah . . . like I said, I quit working at mine, too.” He stopped then, staring into the fire—yet he appeared to see something more. “I think marriage is . . . a constant work in progress. Like it’s always changing and evolving, and if you take your focus off of it for very long . . . ”

  “It collapses,” Sue Ann said.

  “Yeah,” he replied quietly. But she
didn’t expect the sour expression that came over him. “Damn, I’m sorry I even brought up the subject of marriage now.”

  “Why?”

  “When I started this, I wanted to tell you that what you said in the cabin helped me realize some stuff, like that my marriage wasn’t really meant to be saved, and that I probably even knew that all along but just couldn’t admit it to myself. But I didn’t want to make you feel bad, like anything that happened with Jeff was your fault.”

  “I . . . don’t feel bad, though,” she said, tilting her head as she realized the whole truth. Lowering her string of popcorn back into the bowl, she turned sideways on the couch to face Adam, pulling her legs up under her. “In fact, maybe I’m finally starting to find a little clarity. I mean, for so long I just felt abandoned for no reason and couldn’t stop wondering why. So . . . maybe this is weird, but just knowing that there might be an answer that makes sense, even if I don’t know exactly what it is, actually helps.”

  “Well, I’m glad. Because I want you to be happy, Sue Ann.” As his warm gaze met hers, he turned toward her on the couch, too—and she had a feeling it was a good thing the popcorn bowl sat between them or that he might be kissing her. And that she might be letting him.

  “Thanks,” she said, perhaps a bit too breathily. And it seemed like a damn good time to change the subject, and to quit all the meaningful mooning into each other’s eyes that had just started. “So . . . I’m going to sell the house. In the spring.”

  “Wow,” he said. “That’s huge. Especially after all the work you guys put in on it.”

  She nodded, still totally at ease with the decision. “Yeah, but . . . I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need all this space. To heat or to clean. And I don’t need to hang onto it—because it’s part of a life that was in my past. I need a new place . . . and a fresh start.”

  He nodded in return, looking pleased. “That’s great. And if there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”