Chapter Seven
O Christmas Tree
Leading the way, HL pulled the lids off the boxes. “Here’s the tree.”
Nora and Heather walked over to look in the box.
“Pink tinsel. Very pretty.” Personally, Nora preferred the natural look, but pink tinsel beat what she’d had growing up: no tree. Her mother was not religious nor sentimental. To her, decorating for Christmas just meant more work when it all had to get cleaned up and stored away.
Heather reached out, running her hand lightly over the needles.
“Should we wait for your dad to get home in case he wants to help?”
“He won’t want to help.” HL looked up from where he stood bent over the box with his hands resting on his knees.
Heather bit her bottom lip as she ran a finger along a branch, looking unsure.
The look on Heather’s face had Nora second guessing herself. What the heck did she know about kids? Kids who’d lost a mother no less? This suddenly seemed like something Hawk should help decide. “You know, let’s wait.”
Heather shook her head. “HL’s right. Dad won’t want to help.”
So they dug into the box. Without directions it was a bit of a challenge to put together. At one point HL threw his hands in the air. “I give up. Let’s wait for Dad.”
“You can’t quit just because it’s hard, HL. When things get hard is the exact time to double down and keep going.”
Not that Nora didn’t feel his frustration. The colored tips of each branch’s insertion point, the ones that were supposed to clue them in to where the branch should go, were long faded.
“What if we sort the branches into piles by size and then start inserting them at the bottom from biggest to smallest?” Heather lifted two branches to compare sizes. “See? They’re very different.”
“That sounds like a great plan.”
When they finally slid in the last branch, they stood back to look.
Frowning at the tree, HL said, “It’s too pink.”
“It’s pretty.” Nora stood back to get a good look, a bit worried Heather hadn’t said anything. “And it’s pre-lit which makes decorating easier.”
“Ornaments next!” HL announced.
They were just opening the box when Hawk walked in. Nora stopped what she was doing to appreciate him in his uniform for the second time that day. Something swirled deep in her stomach at the sight of him. His well-muscled chest and his woodsy scent with a touch of fresh cold winter air grabbed her attention—until she realized he’d frozen in place when his gaze landed on the tree.
“Daddy! We put the tree up!” HL ran to his dad, then grabbed him by the hand and pulled him over.
“I see.” Hawk finally pulled his gaze from the tinsel tree and over to his daughter.
Over the next half hour, Nora watched Heather go from quiet to quieter. It had started slowly because the first ornaments they added were simple sets of pink, aqua, and silver balls.
But as the ornaments became more personalized—more meaningful—her lips flattened out and her movements stiffened. HL was full of questions. Heather stayed quiet, carefully handling each ornament as if she’d never seen it before, taking her time to hang it gingerly on a branch before stepping back with a frown.
“Here’s a picture of Mommy!” HL stared down at the small frame ornament in his hand. “Daddy, can you lift me up so I can put it high up?”
“Sure, buddy.” He scooped him up in one strong arm like he was lifting a feather pillow.
“Got it. That was the last one.” As soon as HL was on his own feet again, he backed up to get a good look, squinting one eye at it. “It still looks like a girl tree, even with all the ornaments.”
Nora imagined a pink tree wasn’t necessarily cool for an eight-year-old boy.
“I’m going to read in my bedroom.” Heather stared at the tree one last time before leaving the room.
Hawk frowned as his eyes followed her.
“Dad, can you take a picture of me with the tree on your phone? I want to send it to Jordy. He’ll never believe we have a tree if I don’t send him a picture.”
“Sure.” Hawk snapped two photos, then handed his phone to HL who raced from the room.
And then it was just Nora, Hawk, and the tree. Hawk huffed out a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets. His gaze landed back on the tree. The clenching muscle in his square jaw was a clear sign that she’d messed up. Nora’s stomach twisted picturing Heather’s somber face as she’d escaped to her room.
“Okay, I apologize. I overstepped. But you were the one who told us to look in the attic for the decorations.” Nora knew she was stooping low to blame Hawk, but the guilt stung like lemon juice on a cut.
His gaze slid to her but he stayed silent.
“The kids said you guys never really decorated a tree and HL and I thought it would be nice. That’s all. I never meant to bring up sad memories or upset Heather or get you”—her hand fluttered in his direction—“whatever it is you are. I’m not sure. Angry? Devastated? Heartbroken? I’m really sorry.”
She hurried from the room without waiting for a response.
Hawk stared after her and released a slow, shaky breath because the hell of it was, he didn’t know what he was any more than Nora. Standing in front of the tinsel tree that he hadn’t seen since the year Holly died, he thought he’d feel different. He’d thought the sight of it and the memories it held would grab him by the throat and cut off his breath. It hadn’t.
Instead his heart had stuttered, just for a second, like tripping on a throw rug, but then it had eased back into its normal rhythm. No, the pain came when he’d seen Heather’s sad, serious face. Holly had been gone for seven years, and he wasn’t sure what else to do for his daughter. Could a father even step up and fill the void of a missing mother? Should he even try?
He wasn’t happy that Nora had put up the tree without checking with him first. But then the Nora he knew had always jumped feet first into life. She was right too. He’d told her to look in the attic. The pain and regret on Nora’s face told him she’d never in a million years have wanted to hurt Heather.
This wasn’t really about Nora anyway. How would he expect her to know the right thing to do for his daughter when he didn’t? And, as sad as it made Heather, it had brought joy to HL. A parent’s painful Catch 22 and poor Nora was caught in the middle of it.
He walked down to Heather’s room but her light was out. Probably better that she have some time to herself anyway. Hell, he could kick himself for blowing the whole thing up out of proportion. He’d even decided this year he’d try to get into the Christmas spirit for the kids, and what did he do instead? Turned into Scrooge at the sight of the tree.
Hell, Hawk hadn’t even taken the time to compliment HL and Nora on the outside decorations. He’d pulled up to the house and actually laughed out loud at the over-the-top display. It was like something you’d see in Times Square. It was so HL. Somehow Nora had delivered HL’s dream.
Hawk took a shower and propped himself up in bed to read a couple chapters in the latest Jack Reacher novel before turning out his own light. Light leaked in under his door. Hell, he’d left the tree lights on.
With a sigh, he climbed from bed to unplug the Christmas lights. Except when he got to the family room, Heather was curled up on the couch staring at the tree.
“You okay, kiddo?”
“Yeah.”
He sat down next to her on the couch angled so he could see her face. “Look, Nora said she was sorry about the tree. She never wanted to make you sad. It was my fault—I should have brought the box of extension cords down so—”
“Dad, I’m okay.”
He lowered his head until he looked directly into her eyes. “I saw your face, Heather.”
“At first it did make me feel sad.” She pulled her gaze from his and over to the tree. “But sitting here, looking at the ornaments, I feel closer to mom.”
Well, that was good. He searched her face, waiting.
“But it also made me realize I’m tired of being sad. I mean, I’ll always miss her, but it’s been seven years, and I don’t want to be sad anymore.”
Hawk scooted next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her up close to his side. He tucked her head under his chin and they sat together staring at the delicate lights on the pink tinsel branches. “I know what you mean.”
“Dad… Maybe it’s time for a new tree.”
Time for a new tree.
She peered up at him. “We could donate this one so it can brighten up someone else’s Christmas. Maybe someone who doesn’t have money for decorations.”
He waited for the inevitable crushing in his chest, the one that felt like his heart was being run through a trash compactor, but it didn’t come. Instead, it felt more like a release. Like he was able to expand his lungs fully for the first time in seven years.
“You’re pretty special, Heather, you know that? Your mom would have liked the idea a lot.”