Christmas Eve

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Negotiating the slick, snow-crusted county road, I rolled to a stop at the corner of Main Street. A morning snowfall had left a downy white fringe atop the WELCOME TO EASTPORT sign. The trees along the riverbank stood bare and stark against a leaden mid-afternoon sky.

Easing into the hectic holiday traffic, I glanced along the shopping district, where storefronts and restaurants had been embellished with coloured lights and garlands, and velvet bows had been tied to streetlamps. Pedestrians dashed along the sidewalks hauling heavy shopping bags, while children bundled in scarves and hats scooped up snow from the snowbanks into their mitts to toss at one another. Even the heavy clouds and biting late December cold couldn’t dampen the spirit of Christmas in Eastport.

For the first time since that first difficult year of my parents’ divorce, I felt a world apart from the joy of the season. If the heaviness in my heart weren’t enough, persistent fatigue and nausea had me yearning to crawl into bed and sleep away the holidays.

My mother’s house in sight, I sighed deep and gripped the steering wheel, determined to drag my thoughts from my sour stomach and uncertain future and enjoy our two days together—at least until I had to tell her I was expecting a married man’s baby. I could imagine how tongues would wag all over town once that particular tidbit got around.

I parked beside Mom’s Honda and stepped out into the bitter chill, my breath floating on the air as I paused to pull on my gloves. Chickadees flitted back and forth between the bare branches of the oak tree and mom’s feeder by the front window, their calls of dee dee dee echoing in the early winter stillness.

I retrieved my bags from the back seat of my car and carried them up the narrow swath of the walkway that my mother had cleared of snow. My boots had barely hit the porch when Mom threw open the door and ushered me inside.

“Merry Christmas, bambina,” she said, kissing both my cheeks as I pushed the door shut with my hip.

I returned her kisses. “Buon Natale, Mom.”

While I stepped out of my boots, she took the bag of presents and the suitcase from my hands and set them down, her assessing gaze sweeping over me. “You look unhappy, Carly. At Thanksgiving you were so upbeat. Has something happened?”

“I’m okay, Mom. Stop worrying.” My plan was to tell her about the baby on Boxing Day, so the news wouldn’t cast a pall over the holiday. Then I’d have to break it to Dad once I got back to St. Catharines.

And at some point, I needed to tell Mitch. Over the phone, sometime in the New Year. Until then, I’d try not to think about how that conversation might go.

My mother’s lips compressed as she folded her arms. “Of course I’m concerned. You hardly ever answer your phone anymore.”

“I’ve been busy, that’s all. I’m here now. Alive and well, see?” I gave an exaggerated grin and pointed to my bared teeth, prompting an eye-roll from her. After hanging up my coat, I strolled into the living room. “Mom, you still don’t have a tree?”

“I’ve been busy too. Could you please go to Roderick’s and get me one? They still had a couple of nice balsam firs when I was there this morning buying groceries.”

“Don’t you want to pick out your own?”

“No time. I’ve still got shopping to do.” Mom grabbed her wallet from her purse on the entry table and extracted some cash. “Thank you so much.”

Reluctantly I accepted the bills and shoved them into my pocket. I’d hoped to curl up on the couch for a while, maybe catch a much-needed nap, but that would have to wait. “We can decorate it tonight, I suppose, before I leave for Brooke’s party.”

“Fine.” She flashed a broad smile. “I invited Ed and Vicky to come over. All right with you?”

“Sure,” I muttered, while retrieving my coat from the rack. Inwardly I groaned at the prospect of two social gatherings in one night, but I could hardly think of a reason to turn them away. “Are they coming for dinner tomorrow too?”

“No. Vicky’s daughters are in town with their families and she’s making dinner for them and Ed. So it’s just you and me.”

“I’m okay with that.” I wanted to ask Mom if her relationship with Ed was getting serious, but I’d save that conversation for later.

“Take my car. It has a roof rack. Don’t you have a hat?” she asked, and when I shook my head, she grabbed a knitted cap from the closet and thrust it at me. “It’s cold out there, Carly. You’ll catch pneumonia.”

“Unlikely, Mom, but thank you,” I said, silently resolving never to dish out such clichéd, neurotic advice to my future child.

---

After circling the parking lot of Roderick’s grocery store twice, I found a spot close to the sparse collection of evergreens propped up at the far end of the lot. Lights strung on posts above the trees glowed in muted colours, and a blow-up Santa beckoned passersby to wander over. I grabbed Mom’s knitted cap from the passenger seat and pulled it on before stepping out of the car.

Begrudgingly I found myself grateful for her advice once a frigid wind slapped my cheeks. I hurried to get ahead of the other customers meandering among the rows of trees. I stuffed my gloved hands into my pockets and scanned the pines, spruce and firs, not having a clue which were balsam. With the best specimens having been taken, it would be difficult to find one that wasn’t scraggly or patchy, or with its trunk bent at an odd angle.

Finally I spotted a promising tree at the end of the second row. A Scotch pine, I thought, fairly straight and nicely tapered. I sprinted toward it, determined to claim it before anyone else took notice.

I’d nearly made it when my foot slid on a patch of ice and flew out from under me. Helpless to keep my balance, I pitched backwards, arms flailing. With nothing to grab onto, I braced myself for a hard impact.

Instead, a pair of arms closed around me from behind, catching me before I could hit the pavement. A broad chest held me in place while my breath whooshed out in relief. Steadying myself on my feet, I turned to thank my saviour—and froze when I found myself locking eyes with Mitch Logan.

“How are you, Carly?” he asked, his arms still against my coat sleeves, his gaze steady on mine. His mouth was pressed into a thin line, his jaw tight, but his stoic expression couldn’t disguise the longing in his eyes that stilled my breath for a moment.

Heat coursing to my cheeks, I shook his hands away. “Just fine,” I said, keeping my voice brittle though I feared it was about to break. “This is my tree.”

“Go ahead. I’m only here to pick up a few last-minute grocery items for my mother. Do you need help with that?”

“Nope.” I plunged my arm between the branches of my tree and grabbed hold of the trunk, my heart pummeling my ribs. Needles poked me and snow dusted my face as I started dragging the tree toward the cash register, desperate to put space between myself and Mitch.

“Carly, I need to understand what happened,” Mitch said behind me. “Why didn’t you answer my calls? We had such a good time—“

“I’m glad to know you had a good time. Just like the old days.” I spun my head to glare at him while struggling to keep the tree upright. “Same old Mitch Logan. I should’ve known better. Fool me twice, shame on me.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows bunched in puzzlement. Hell, he looked too gorgeous, his dark eyes almost incandescent in the soft afternoon light, his lips full and soft.

I made a derisive snorting noise, while a twig snapped under my tightening grip. With anger rolling off me in waves, I had to fight to keep my voice level. “I suppose you thought I’d make a good weekend fling. I suppose you thought I was still naïve enough to fall for your charm, and you didn’t think I’d be in town long enough to find out about Tanya.”

A wave of queasiness gripped me, and the baby I was carrying leapt into my thoughts. His baby, damn it. Tears sprang to my eyes. I’d never be rid of Mitch, never able to leave him in the past. And why did the thought of never seeing him again have to make my chest ache so terribly?

His frown deepened. “Find out? I told you about Tanya.”

I snorted again. “Conveniently omitting the fact that—“

“Carly, is that you?”

I spun toward the cheery female voice, and found Vicky grinning at me from under a bright pink toque with a pompom bobbing at the tip.

I drew a deep breath and greeted her with a smile. “Vicky, hi. Have you found a tree?”

“I don’t need a tree. My artificial one does just fine. I spotted you across the parking lot and I thought, what luck. I need to buy a hostess gift for your mother and I’m running out of time. I could really use your advice. Would you have time to come with me to McQuiggle’s?”

“Well, the tree…” I glanced at Mitch, still standing there statue-like with that bemused look on his face.

“Let me help you with it,” Vicky said. “Then we can go. If you don’t already have plans this afternoon…?” She glanced at Mitch with her brows raised.

“Nope. No plans,” I said, turning my back on him.

“I can help you strap it to your car,” Mitch said.

“No need,” I snapped. “We’ve got it.”

He gripped my arm. “We need to talk,” he said close to my ear. The spicy scent of his cologne, sharp in the bracing air, drifted over me and dragged my thoughts back to our night together nine weeks ago, when I’d dared to dream about second chances and a future together.

Heat and longing flushed through me, and I shut my eyes for a just a moment, before I wrenched my arm away.

“I’m done talking,” I said briskly. “I’m done with you.”