Nine
Maddox
The moment I let her go, Kris bolts and it takes everything I have to let her. To keep myself from chasing her down and doing exactly what I told her I wanted to do to her. To be honest, it isn’t decency or common sense that keeps me from it. It’s knowing that my daughter is running around here somewhere and the last thing I want is for her to see her father go full-tilt caveman on a woman. Especially Kris, because I what’s going to happen if I go there with her., Things like rational thinking and self-preservation are going to fly out the window and I won’t have a chance in hell of regaining the ground I’ve managed to scrape under me over the past decade.
Kristmas Cavanagh is a threat.
She’s always been a threat.
I was just too stupid to know it back then.
So, I stay where I am. Watch her stop long enough to say goodbye to my mom and something snarky to her grandma before she disappears through the tent flap.
She doesn’t look back.
Kris was never one for looking back.
Scuffing my boot in the dirt, I catch a flash of white snagged on my toe. Thinking it’s a wet wipe that got away from me, I bend down to pick it up.
It’s not a wet wipe.
I don’t even have to flip it over to know what it is but I do it anyway. I send her letters and get them back so often you’d think it’d stop hurting by now. Nope. Seeing her name and address written in my handwriting, her carefully penned RETURN TO SENDER directly underneath is like a kick in the teeth, every single time. This time is no exception.
Only this time, It’s just her address. No RETURN TO SENDER.
Giving it a haphazard fold, I tuck it into my shirt pocket.
Doesn’t matter. This is the last letter I’m going to send her.
Approaching my mom and Kris’s grandmother, they fall silent for a second before switching topics, their voices pitched just loud enough for me to hear them on the approach. Right. Like I’m supposed to believe the two of them have been standing here talking about the weather while Kris and I were yowling at each other like a couple of tomcats less than 10 yards away.
Stopping in front of them, I reach behind me and yank my work gloves from my back pocket. “I’m gonna grab Walt and get the last of those trees unloaded for tonight,” I tell my mom, gaze aimed at my hands while I work my fingers into my gloves. When neither of them answers me, I throw a questioning glance at them without raising my head.
“Alright.” My mom nods her head, her mouth stretched in a cheery smile. “Mrs. Cavanagh was just inviting us to Christmas Eve dinner at her house. It’s Kris’s birthday and it’ll just be the two of them.” My mom cuts Nan an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid we have other plans but I think Mad and Maggie would love the chance at a home-cooked meal. We’ve been living on pizza since we opened the lot for the season.”
The thought of sitting across the table from Kris reminds me of all of those family dinners we were forced into as kids. Kris staring at her plate and picking at her dinner while I glared at the top of her head. My dad drilling me about my future, repeating himself over and over like he’s trying to brainwash me. Her mother perched on the end of her seat like a bird, watching us all with this look of detached helplessness. Like she knew exactly what was happening but didn’t know how to stop it. Make it better.
“I don’t think so,” I say before risking a look at my mom. She’s still smiling but I know she’s about to snatch me up by my ear and shake me for being rude. “My step-dad is retired Navy. Every night on Christmas Eve, we close the lot for business and set up for a party. Give away trees. Dinner and gifts to military families,” I tell her, trying to soften my rejection. “This is the first time I’ve been home to be a part of it and I don’t want to miss it.”
“You and Maggie can go for dinner and still be back in time for the party.” My mom isn’t going to let me off the hook. “Maybe Kris would like to come with—”
I shoot her a look that I’m sure I’ll pay for later. “I said no.”
Nan’s face falls a little but she nods her head and smiles. “I understand,” she says before aiming her smile at my mom. “Maybe some other time.”
My mom returns her smile before looking at me. “Would you mind walking Mrs. Cavanagh to her car before you get started?”
Translation: You’re walking Mrs. Cavanagh to her car where you want to or not.
When I look at Nan, she gives me a grateful smile. “I would appreciate the help. I’m not getting around as well as I used to, you know.”
I’m not buying it for one second but I nod anyway because my mom would beat me about the head and neck if I called anyone over the age of fifty a liar to their face. “I’d be happy to,” I tell her, offering her my arm.
They exchange goodbyes and we make our exit, Nan playing the tottering old woman so brilliantly I expect Denzel to pop out of the bushes in a tux and present her an Academy Award for best actress.
Approaching the SUV Nan indicates with a shaky finger, I see Kris sitting in the driver’s seat. To be honest, I’m surprised she’s still here. I was sure she’d have left Nan here to fend for herself.
“You owe her an apology, you know,” I say in a low tone as we approach the SUV. “And a thank you for not leaving your ass here.”
“What? Like I’ve never hitchhiked before?” Nan looks up at me and laughs. “And an apology for what, exactly?”
Stopping at the back of the SUV, I pull my arm free from her grasp. “Blindsiding her.” I practically bite the words in half. “Bringing her here without telling her where you were taking her or that I’d be here.”
“I already told you—” She stacks her hands on her hips, her tottering old woman act gone in a blink. “yes, I knew your family owned the lot but I had no idea you’d be here.”
“You expect me to believe you just happened to pick today, of all fucking days, to bring your granddaughter here?” I cross my arms over my chest, fighting to keep my voice down. “Today? Now? The first Christmas I’ve been home in a decade and you just magically show up with her in tow? I call bullshit.”
“Call it whatever the hell you want, kid.” Nan shrugs, totally unfazed by my tone or my liberal use of curse words. “I call it a fucking Christmas miracle.”