Christmas on the Coast Page 24

  Paul headed for the coffee—he hadn’t had time to make any this morning—but Davey tugged at his hand. “Look, Daddy, there’s Santa! Can we go see him first?”

  “Sure thing.” He changed directions and they walked toward the corner where kids and pets were making a lot of noise. Sarge veered toward one of the tables offering little sausage and biscuit snacks, and Paul scolded him and tugged him back to a heel position.

  They reached the short line of families and pets waiting for their photographs and then he saw her.

  Amber was one of Santa’s helpers. Well, of course she was, because that was the kind of thing Amber did. She wore a green elf suit complete with short velvet skirt and green tights, and a red-and-green cap on her head, and she looked... Paul swallowed. Wow, did she look good.

  He was automatically stepping toward her, opening his mouth to greet her, and then he remembered. She’d lied to him. She’d known Wendy’s secret about Davey.

  He looked down at Davey and got that semi-sick feeling in his stomach that had dominated his bodily sensations for the past few days. Ever since he’d learned that Davey wasn’t, technically and biologically, his son.

  She caught sight of them and her smile, the hope on her face, made him breathless. But he steeled himself against his wildly vacillating feelings, closed his heart and turned his face away.

  Davey spotted her, too. “Miss Amber!”

  Paul looked again and saw that Amber was talking to another elf, this one white-haired. It was Mary, wearing a similar elf suit in red. Amber gave Davey a fake smile and apologetic little wave, and then she hurried off in the direction of a kids’ craft area.

  Paul’s hand had been out to stop Davey from running to her, but it wasn’t necessary. Mary came over and started talking to Davey about whether Sarge would wear a Christmas hat or kerchief. She showed Davey both options and when he’d decided Sarge should wear a kerchief, she let him choose which one he thought would look best with the bloodhound’s brown fur.

  She completely ignored Paul.

  And somehow, Paul felt like the bad guy.

  An argument started in his head. He needed to protect Davey from Amber. He also needed to protect himself. Amber had been terribly wrong to conceal what she knew from him.

  But somehow, he felt less than honorable holding that against her.

  They reached the front of the line, and Davey decided Sarge needed a hat, too, after all. Mary agreed and helped to tie a little elf hat on the poor dog, who gamely accepted it and sat still for several poses: one with Davey, one with all three of them and even one with Mary.

  If he hadn’t pushed Amber away, there could have been a picture with her. He’d have liked to have that, even after everything that had happened.

  But it wasn’t to be, and Paul needed to stop thinking about it. He listened while Davey sat on Santa’s lap and told him what he wanted for Christmas, making mental notes on a few items he might still have time to purchase. As they walked away, he forced himself to focus on his son, not his regrets. “What do you want to do next? There’s a bunch of trains and antique toys over there, and look, Mr. Kirk is showing everyone how they work.”

  But Davey shook his head. “Want to get a present for Miss Amber,” he said, and tugged Paul toward a table full of pastel-knitted decorations and flowery-smelling beanbag-type items. Davey couldn’t read, but he’d unerringly picked the “Gifts for Mom” table. “Can we, Daddy?”

  Now, what was Paul supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to stifle Davey’s generosity? “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he said, stalling.

  “Why not? I love her.” Davey smiled up at him, an innocent smile that stabbed at Paul’s heart.

  Davey, however mistakenly, was more generous than he was.

  And yet Amber wasn’t Davey’s mom, nor was there any chance that she’d gain that role by marriage. Not anymore.

  “We’ll think about that kind of gift later,” he hedged. When Davey’s face fell, he felt like a jerk.

  As Paul steered Davey over toward the toy display, a loud bang made Paul jump.

  Trey rushed out from behind the counter and grabbed Paul’s shoulder, then yelled, “Cut it out,” at Kirk. “Sorry, man, it’s just this toy battleship he’s been obsessed with,” he said to Paul. “It sounds way too realistic. You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” Paul looked at his concerned face, looked down at Davey, who was also fine, and then realized what Trey was thinking.

  A week ago, fireworks had set off a huge panic attack. Today, a loud banging toy hadn’t. Maybe he was making some progress.

  “Go look at the toys,” he told Davey, who ran over to a group of kids clustered around Kirk. “Thanks for worrying about me,” he said to Trey, “but that one didn’t hit me. I’m not saying I’m over the PTSD, but I’m getting better.”

  “Good man,” Trey said, and went to help someone unload more boxes of Christmas books.

  Paul strolled through the aisles of the fair, keeping an eye on Davey, paying attention to what he liked so that he could come back and buy a couple of items later.

  As he followed after Davey and kept Sarge at his side, his mind wandered. It was great that he was getting past the panic attacks. The counseling was helping. Being here in Pleasant Shores was helping. It was a good community, full of caring people like Trey, who was looking out for him and understood his issues, and Mary, who’d helped Davey enjoy dressing Sarge up for Santa.

  And Amber, his conscience reminded him. She was a good person, too, had been kind to both him and Davey from that first night Davey had run off and ended up at her house.

  But she lied!

  Yes, to help a dying woman gain peace.

  It was true. That was why Amber had kept her silence. Not out of meanness, or self-interest, but because she was keeping a promise.

  It was Paul who was acting mean and self-interested.

  Davey’s grandparents had found out the truth weeks ago, apparently, and they, too, had kept the truth from him for a time. Their reaction to Wendy’s adultery had been to panic and go behind Paul’s back, trying to take Davey from him, even sneaking him to his biological father and basically offering Davey to that self-absorbed rich idiot who didn’t know a good kid when he saw one. Paul’s fists clenched just thinking about it.

  Davey’s grandparents had acted like jerks to both Paul and Davey.

  Paul had acted like a jerk to Amber.

  Amber was the only one who hadn’t acted like a jerk.

  He thought of her face when she’d seen them come in today, how it had lit up and then fallen. He’d hurt her. He’d told her he never wanted to see her again.

  But the truth was, he didn’t just want to see her, he wanted to keep seeing her. He was in love with her, and he wanted to marry her.

  He stopped still as the realization hit him hard.

  He loved her and he wanted to marry her.

  Wanted her to be his wife. Wanted her to be Davey’s mom.

  So she’d made a mistake in how she’d handled Wendy’s secret. It wasn’t as if Paul had never made a mistake himself.

  And yeah, thinking about something long-term with her, the risks were there. She might not be healthy or live to a ripe old age, and that was heartbreaking to even contemplate.

  But he thought of Davey, who’d given his heart to Amber in a simple, uncomplicated way without regard for the consequences.

  A little child shall lead them.

  Unless you become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

  Paul wasn’t all that well trained in the Bible, but there was a reason those particular verses were sayings most people knew and remembered: they were true and right and worth living by.

  If Davey could let the future take care of itself and love Amber now, could Paul do any less?

 
The only problem was, he’d blown it with Amber. He’d said cruel things, blamed her for something that wasn’t her fault, acted judgmental and self-righteous.

  If he had any chance with her, he had to do something big.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  IT WASN’T WALKING WEATHER on this late-morning Sunday, but Amber went for a walk, anyway.

  When life gets you down, get moving. It had been her philosophy for years. She’d done it when she’d been undergoing treatments in the hospital, sneaking outside to stroll the grounds or hang with the smokers even when she was supposed to be confined to her room.

  Before that, she’d dragged Hannah out all the time when she was a baby and toddler. They’d gone to the lake with friends and to the shore with a short-term boyfriend and to Texas, one memorable summer, just the two of them. She hadn’t had money to travel far, back in those days, but she’d scrimped in the rest of her life so they wouldn’t be stuck at home for long stretches with nothing new and exciting to do.

  No doubt that contributed to the wanderlust Hannah felt now, the wanderlust that was taking her further out of Amber’s circle and influence. Amber applauded it, and she blamed herself for it, but it was still sad for a mother to see her only chick spread her wings and fly away.

  She reached the line of shops on Beach Street and wrapped her coat more tightly around herself. It was a gray day, with temperatures in the forties, but the damp made it feel colder.

  Being cold, outside in the windy weather, made her think of Paul, how he’d wrapped his coat around her and fussed like a mother hen on that unforgettable day when he’d finally kissed her. Then again, everything made her think of Paul.

  Seeing Paul and Davey at the Christmas Fair had nearly broken Amber. The open, welcoming happiness in Davey’s eyes; the coldness in Paul’s.

  As she passed Lighthouse Lit, a movement inside caught her eye and she stopped. She’d figured it would be closed until noon, like the other stores.

  The sign on the door said Closed, but there was Mary, alone inside, moving a stack of books.

  Amber tapped on the glass and pointed at the door.

  Mary put down the stack and opened the door. “Hello, dear,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

  She didn’t look well. Dark circles sagged beneath her eyes, and her normally gorgeous white hair frizzed out beneath a kerchief. She wore faded blue jeans and a T-shirt, not at all her usual attire.

  Come to think of it, she hadn’t looked her usual self when they’d been elves together, either.

  “Are you okay?” Amber asked. “Do you mind if I come in for a few minutes?”

  Mary hesitated as if she were about to refuse, but then stepped aside and let Amber walk through the door.

  Amber looked around. She’d heard about the vandalism at the bookstore, but everything seemed to be pretty much in its place.

  What was different were the signs topping most of the displays: 50% Off! Everything Must Go!

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Help me put this up, dear,” Mary said, beckoning her to the back of the store. She pulled out a banner. “I guess we’ll just tape this up across the window.”

  The banner read Store Closing Sale.

  “I’m not helping you put that up,” Amber protested. “You can’t close down. Why would you?”

  Mary rolled up the banner, grabbed a roll of tape and headed to the front of the store. “I’m moving on.”

  “But...it’s the Christmas shopping season. And everyone loves Lighthouse Lit. We need you!”

  Mary shook her head. “I’m very replaceable. Someone else will open a bookstore.”

  “You’re not replaceable!” Amber watched Mary struggle to tape up one end of the banner and then went over and helped her hold it. “Is this because of Imogene?”

  “Because of Imogene, and what she said. Everyone knows my past now. No one will want to shop here.” She slipped past Amber, unrolling the banner as she went, and started affixing the other end of it to the window.

  Amber stalked over and held that end for the older woman, too. “That’s ridiculous. People don’t believe what Imogene said. They believe you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Mary finished a hurried, sloppy tape job and then turned toward Amber, hands on hips. “What are you doing out in this cold, anyway?”

  “Thinking,” she said.

  “About Paul?” Mary beckoned her to the back of the shop again and poured her a cup of tea without asking if Amber wanted it.

  “About Paul, about Hannah, about a lot of things.”

  “But mostly about Paul, eh?” Mary raised an eyebrow as she perched on the stool behind the cash register. “The two of you really seem to be going somewhere.”

  “It’s not going to work.”

  “Why not?” Mary’s eyes were piercing.

  Amber waved a hand. “Something happened in the past, and he blames me for it. And he’s sort of right to blame me.”

  “Did you have a choice?” Mary asked gently.

  Amber thought of Wendy, sick and crying, desperate to confess the sin that lay heavy on her heart. There had been no time to call a priest or counselor.

  Had she had any choice, in that situation, but to hold Wendy’s hand and listen, and then promise not to tell? “Not really.”

  Mary nodded slowly. “Life stinks sometimes.”

  “Yeah.” Amber studied Mary. “I didn’t take in everything your stepdaughter said, but it sounds like some things happened that you didn’t have a choice about, too.”

  Mary pursed her lips and tilted her hand from one side to the other. “You’re not wrong. There were parts of it I didn’t have a choice about, but parts I did, and I screwed those up royally.”

  “Sounds familiar.” Amber leaned on the counter and took a sip of tea. She looked around the store. “Do you really want to leave when things are pretty good in your life? I mean, you have your store, your friends, your new puppy—”

  “I gave the puppy to Kirk.” Mary’s voice went husky on the last couple of words.

  “No!” Amber stared at Mary. “You love that puppy!”

  Mary nodded, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I love her, and that’s why I gave her away. I don’t know where I’m going and I can’t put a dog through that.”

  “And you’re punishing yourself.” As soon as she said it, she knew it was true, and Mary’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows confirmed it.

  Was Amber doing the same thing to herself?

  “I’m just looking out for the dog,” Mary said, but her protest sounded half-hearted.

  “That dog loves you already. Don’t you think you deserve to have a dog that loves you?”

  “No!” The word burst out of Mary, and then she stared at Amber, her eyes getting suspiciously shiny.

  Amber studied her. “Think about that,” she said. “And why don’t you think about this move a little longer, too?”

  “My mind’s made up.” Mary wiped her eyes. “But you know what? I value your friendship and I hope we can stay in touch. You’re a good person, Amber Rowe. A very good person.”

  She opened her arms, and Amber came around the counter for a hug.

  And as she walked out of the store, as she made her way down to the waterfront and sat on one of the benches facing the bay, something broke through to her, just as the sun was trying to break through the clouds.

  She had tried her best: with Wendy, with Paul, with Hannah. She’d made mistakes as a friend and a mother, of course. Maybe more mistakes than most. But it had never been out of bad intentions.

  The weak December sun didn’t warm her, but she felt a little warmer nonetheless, because she finally felt a new truth, felt it inside. She was worth loving as she was, mistakes and flaws notwithstanding, just as Mary was.

  Unfort
unately, she wasn’t going to get love from the person she wanted it from most. But not only was she worth loving, she knew how to give love, and to give it in an active way. She glanced back toward town, then stood and started walking in that direction, pulling out her phone.

  There wasn’t any time to lose.

  * * *

  AFTER AMBER LEFT, Mary continued marking down books and adjusting displays until it was time to open the store. When she unlocked the door, several people were waiting—unusual for a Sunday, except maybe not, since it was the holiday shopping season. She let them in and greeted them, and they began to browse the store.

  More people came in. Drew, Ria and their two teenage daughters said they were stopping by after their family’s Sunday brunch. Julie and Earl showed up, too. “I know you said you didn’t need me to work today,” Julie said, “but we’re here to shop, and I can help you if need be.” She looked around the shop, but didn’t mention the sale and store closing signs, which was odd. Mary hadn’t told Julie about what she was doing, of course, but since Julie usually knew everything that went on at the store, she had to be surprised that such a big change had been made without her input.

  More people poured in, and when Amber showed up in the middle of that group, Hannah at her side, Mary started to get suspicious. Had Amber told the others what Mary was planning to do?

  All of a sudden, Amber nodded at Hannah, who pushed herself up to sit on the counter. Then she scrambled to a kneeling position and waved her arms. “Okay, everyone, are we ready? Who wants to start?”

  Oh, no.

  “I’ll start,” Julie said, waving a hand. “This is the best job I ever had, and I don’t want the place to close.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Mary said, looking around to include her other friends in the apology. “It’s all happened rather quickly. You and everyone else will get a nice severance package.”

  “You didn’t tell me because you knew I wouldn’t let you do it, right?” Julie asked, ignoring the mention of severance. “And you were right. I won’t let you, if I can help it.”