Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Brax
I woke just as a thin line of reddish-orange light from the rising sun appeared in the frosted-over window. I was freezing, and something hard was stabbing me in the back. I reached a hand back into the crook of the couch and felt something thick and scratchy…aha. Dog chew. Thank you, Cooper.
Cooper had been my roommate, not Mia. Caleb had been extra chatty in that interrogating way of his, and I still had the feeling that he was vetting me, trying to find the cracks in my armor. By the time we got back from walking the dog, it was way past midnight, and Mia had been curled up in bed, fast asleep. So I crashed in the sewing room.
And maybe I also took advantage of the time to think.
I felt a warm, dead weight on my feet—like, my actual feet, nothing in between. “What the—” I sat up and tossed off the comforter. The dog looked up from the well between my legs, where his snout had been happily resting on my ankle. Without a tinge of embarrassment, he wagged his tail and climbed right up, hovering over my face, licking me—basically letting me know that he needed to relieve himself again and that I was now the selected friend lucky enough to go with him. At least Caleb wouldn’t be joining me, which he was way too enthusiastic about last night. I took a peek at my weather app. Twenty degrees. This time, I was adding more layers before I ventured out into the frostscape.
I tiptoed into Mia’s room, as stealthy as the Grinch stealing Christmas, and managed to find a thermal undershirt, a flannel shirt, and some pants. And then I caught my breath.
In the dusky gray of the early morning, she was snuggled in the bed, the red plaid flannel sheets tucked under her chin, her hair splayed out on the pillow.
I stopped dead in my tracks. She was asleep, peaceful, her expression serene. Her beauty floored me. I mean, it always did, but even more seeing her like this, unguarded.
Then I had the weirdest out-of-body experience. It was as if it were any early morning, as if I’d just gotten up for a prework jog, and I got stopped in my tracks by the fact that there was someone beautiful in my bed—no, more than that— special —and I could swoop down and kiss her and be with her because…because she was mine.
What would that be like, I wondered, to know that you had someone to wake up to every morning? Whom you could tell your secrets to, who would understand you, who might even love you back if you were willing to take the chance?
I would never take a miracle like that for granted.
But then, miracles didn’t happen to damaged people like me.
Except—maybe one already had. One that I’d nearly let slip out of my hands.
I stared at her for so long, I forgot what time it was or what I was doing. Until her lashes fluttered, and she stirred. My heart pounding, I froze until her breathing returned to the deep, slow rhythms of sleep, gathered my stuff, and hightailed it out of there, careful not to make a sound. All that was loud was the sound in my ears of my pounding heart and a deep, visceral yearning I couldn’t quite snuff out.
The scent of cinnamon and warm dough hit me as I descended the back stairway into the kitchen. As I turned the corner at the bottom, I saw the warm reddish-golden blaze of a fire in the brick fireplace. Mrs. D was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee, flipping through a book. The Christmas tree with cookie cutter ornaments and red ribbons in the corner was already lit up.
She looked up and smiled, then patted the seat next to her. “Brax, come sit. Unless you’re on your way out?”
“Just going out with Cooper here so he doesn’t get eaten by a coyote.”
She let out a surprisingly loud chuckle. Then she got up. “You just sit down. Coopy, come here.” The dog followed her obediently to the door. As soon as she opened it, he bolted out. “Thank you for being willing to freeze your backside for our dog, and don’t tell Steven, but it’s way too cold for coyotes. Now, how do you take your coffee?”
I smiled, grateful for her laid-backness. “Black is fine, but cream is nicer if you’ve got some.”
She grabbed a Santa mug, filled it up, grabbed a carton of creamer out of the fridge, and took her seat next to me.
She pushed a spiral book between us. A photo album. “I love remembering our early Christmases. Maybe you’d like to look at the photos with me?” She looked up, her bright blue eyes searing through me, as if she could read all my secrets.
“Sure.” I sensed that she really wanted to share these photos, whatever they were. And I felt honored to be invited. What way to understand Mia better?
Beth heaved a sigh. “Sometimes I feel that my kids would rather pretend nothing tragic happened to us. But I find I need to remember the love—it helps me to dwell on that and not the pain. I sort of succeed at it.” She eyed me carefully. “Otherwise, our Grace is forgotten, and I can’t have that.”
Our Grace . I couldn’t imagine the loss. Instantly, I thought of Mia with Rylee and Reagan. How she always made sure to bring Reagan into her interactions with Rylee. Always chatting with her, asking about her, including her. She was so great with those little girls. Now, I was beginning to understand that it just might be a mission.
Beth tapped on a photo. There were her kids—all four of them—cross-legged under a brightly lit Christmas tree, all wearing red Santa hats and their Christmas morning pj’s. “I asked them to pose with their favorite gift.”
There was Liam wearing Harry Potter glasses, not unlike the pair he wore now, clutching a book. Caleb held a lightsaber somewhat threateningly over his brother’s head. Guess nothing much changed. Grace clutched a doll. Mia—who was all of eight or nine, I guessed—had glasses and a halo of blonde hair curling everywhere. Notably, she had bunny slippers on. She had one arm wrapped around Grace, and she was smiling at the doll in Grace’s arms. There was a round, glass object in her free hand, but it was obscured by the folds of her robe. “What’s that Mia’s holding?” I squinted hard to see.
Beth leaned over. She smelled like cinnamon, and it made me wonder, is this what mothers smell like? She rested a hand lightly on my arm and pointed with the other. How could she be so welcoming to a stranger? I’d known lots of foster parents. Some were really nice, others more aloof. All I knew was that it was easy to feel the warmth and affection Beth seemed to so readily hand out to everyone. Having it directed at me felt strange, but I admit, I absorbed it as hungrily as sunshine on the beach.
“Mia did love that snow globe.” She peered carefully at the photo that she must have looked at a million times. “I think we bought it at the Kris Kringle market.”
Before I could ask her what that was, she told me. “That’s a market they have in the Main Street shops each year. All the artists make special wares for the holidays, and they serve hot chocolate and warm gingerbread and, of course, warm cheese curds.”
I’d never heard of cheese curds before coming to Wisconsin. Unbelievably, I’d never tasted them. As an undergrad, I was always pinching pennies. And as a med student…well, I just wasn’t very food-adventurous. But a lot of people said they were the state’s best-kept secret.
“Anyway,” Beth continued, “the globe was very Christmasy, swirling with snowflakes. In the center was a house with Christmas lights and a couple of little kids holding hands that Mia always thought of as her and Grace, and there was a little dachshund in it that did really look like our little doxie at the time, Jack. The globe broke a year later, when the kids were chasing each other around the family room. Mia cried and cried. Shortly after, Grace got sick again and…” Her voice got very soft and choked up. “And we lost her.”
Instinctively, I put my arm around her. To my surprise, she let out a sob and hugged me tight. At a loss, I stayed stock-still, uncertain of what to do, but sensing that she somehow needed me to stay right where I was.
I thought of little-girl Mia, so in love with the lovely fantasy inside that globe. One that was shattered right along with her family as she knew it.
Suddenly, it dawned on me—Mia’s mom had just explained to me who Mia was. And I saw the evidence of it in that photo.
She was the little girl wanting to do anything to protect her sister, wanting the cancer to go away. Trying to help but feeling helpless.
Was that why she’d gone into pediatrics? So she could obtain the tools to help? It made sense why she was so taken with Rylee and Reagan. Maybe she was seeing another pair of twins so similar to herself and Grace and wanting desperately to change their fates.
Maybe that was also why she was so determined not to do heme-onc, despite having such a passion for helping those kids. In some way, each family’s circumstance would be a version of her own personal nightmare—trying to save kids as she’d wanted to save her own sister—and couldn’t.
After a moment, Beth drew back. “Oh, goodness. I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up a little straighter and wiping her eyes. “No, I’m not,” she said resolutely. “I needed someone to listen to me tell that story. I needed you to understand how close Mia was to her sister, how a twin bond is so very, very close, and when it’s broken, it feels like a piece of you is missing. And maybe it always will.”
I nodded because I got it, what it was like to feel that hole. I totally did.
My mother was an addict who couldn’t hold down a job, couldn’t provide for us. Despite all that, I knew that in her way, she’d loved us, even as she’d continued to hurt us. I’d long since forgiven her, but the sense of what if would always haunt me. What if she’d stayed clean, what if her last stint in rehab had worked, what if we could’ve had the chance to be a normal family? I would never stop wondering.
“Tell me about your family, Brax,” Beth said.
Oh boy. If she was expecting the discussion to switch to something more lighthearted, I was in trouble. Unless I did what I usually did. “There’s just me and my younger sister,” I said.
Stop there , I warned myself. Like you always do.
Beth was looking at me kindly. Like she somehow intuited that there might be more. “I told you my secrets,” she said. “Now it’s okay if you tell me yours.” She paused. “I don’t mean to joke. Just that you seem like you might be a person who’s been on his own for a long time.”
That took me aback. I must have given her a puzzled look.
“Mia’s told me as much, but I also see the signs.” She closed the photo album and sighed. “My dad died when I was eighteen, and my mom sort of fell apart. That left me in charge of my three siblings. I felt responsible, like I had the world on my shoulders, but I was determined to help them to turn out right. I was tough on them. But I’m proud to say they all turned out to be great human beings. And as for me…sometimes, I longed for someone to turn to myself. But I learned to be strong on my own. Maybe sometimes too independent.” She looked at me long and hard. “Forgive me if I’m being pushy, but I sense that same trait in you. Not that I know you that well, but you seem to minimize the hardship you must have gone through.”
Yeah. This woman saw straight through me. Just like her daughter.
“My mom—had problems,” I found myself saying for the second time ever. “I was placed in foster care from twelve on.”
She set down her mug and made a soft exclamation. “You stayed with your sister, then?”
I shook my head. “No.” Was I really going to spill it all? “A nice family adopted her. I made sure we always stayed in touch.”
She shook her head sadly. “And what happened to you?”
“I aged out of the system, but I made it to college. School saved me, really.” My smarts had given me a new life.
“You need more than intelligence to thrive the way you did.”
I shrugged, embarrassed. It was hard to take the compliment. She didn’t see the scars. “I had a sports scholarship, and then academic ones. That’s how I made it to UW. And I worked a lot of part-time jobs.”
“Like I said, more than smarts. Strength of character.” She smiled. “Will you see your sister over your break?”
“Not enough time off, but I plan to go see her as soon as I can.”
“You came here with Mia instead of seeing your sister.”
I nodded. Mia needed me. That was a no-brainer.
Beth gave me a side hug. A good one, full of warmth and unspoken solidarity. That’s what got me. That she sensed what I needed even more than I did. To be listened to. To acknowledge that I’d survived despite all I’d been through. No one had ever said that to me before.
“I see much more than your survivorship. I see your kind heart,” she said softly. “Just like I see the way you look at my daughter.” She squeezed harder. “From all that Mia’s told me, you treat her like the jewel she is. I’ve never seen her so happy. For a while, I suspected that maybe she was embellishing to keep my spirits up. But now I see for myself that it’s all true.”
I waited for a wave of guilt to cut through me. But it never came.
I just felt…grateful. To be here. With Mia. With this amazing family. With this kind woman who was so willing to take me into her home and give her friendship. I shouldn’t have been surprised, because Mia was the exact same way.
I cleared my throat. “Well, you have a very special daughter, Mrs. D.” I found myself wanting to say so much more. Even ask her if she thought it was possible for someone like me?—
“Call me Beth. And yes. Yes, I do.” She gave me that deep look again. “And she’s found someone who brings out the best in her. As I think she does for you. That’s really what love is all about, isn’t it? It repairs old wounds. It makes us our best selves. And it helps us to move on from the past and create a brand-new future where anything is possible.”
I desperately wanted to believe that. I looked down to find my hands fisted, tense. I’d hung on her every word.
Beth released my arm and stood up. “Well, here I am blathering on. I love chatting with you, but now we have something very important to do.”
That distracted me from my thoughts, but also put me on edge. “What’s that?”
A sparkle appeared in her eyes that made me feel like I was about to be asked to do something waaay out of my comfort zone. “We’re going to make cutout cookies.”
We? “Right now?” flew out of my mouth. It was—well, it was the butt crack of dawn was what it was.
“Yes,” she said cheerily, walking across the kitchen and pulling ingredients out of the cupboards. “We’ll get most of them done before everyone wakes up. Are you up for it?”
“I’ve never baked a cookie in my life.” Confession seemed to be my word of the day. But I wanted to make sure she knew exactly what she was getting herself into.
She winked and scurried to pull the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “Well, you’re a smart one, and I’m sure you’ll catch on fast.” She gave a giant grin. “And you’re gonna love it.” On the way to the oven, she opened a drawer and tossed me something red-and-white striped. “Put that on.”
It landed in a heap on the table. As I untangled it, I saw that it was an apron. It said in big green letters across the front, Let’s Get Elfed Up.
I raised a brow. “It was from a gift exchange,” she said. “It’ll do just fine, right?”
“Sure. Of course.” Right. As I placed it over my neck and tied it behind my back, I heard footsteps on the wooden stairs.
Mia stepped into the room wearing her glasses, an oversized sweatshirt, flannel pants, and fuzzy socks, her hair wildly doing what curly hair does. Seeing her made me fumble tying my apron. How could she be, hands down, the sexiest woman I’d ever seen, even rolling straight out of bed? Even if her sweatshirt said Packers, and I was all about the Eagles.
I read her look as wary. A combo of Where did you go last night/can I trust you/why are you baking with my mom?
Wanting to reassure her without words, I poured her a coffee and brought it to her.
“Good morning,” I said, handing her the steaming cup. Beth had managed to vanish at just the right time, a move I felt certain was strategic.
“Hi,” Mia said, eyeing the coffee. “You’re up early.”
“Your little dog apparently has an equally tiny bladder.”
That made her laugh. “Please don’t blame Cooper for you not showing up,” she said.
I held up my hands. “Caleb wanted to talk. And when I checked on you, you were fast asleep.” I paused. “Maybe even snoring.”
Her brows lifted. “I do not snore.”
“Okay, maybe not. But I…I just—” I thought about what I really wanted, which was her. I’d spent a long time last night wondering if I could be a man who could be there for her. A man capable of taking the leap.
She made me want to try. That meant being honest.
I dropped my voice. “I just want to do this right. No rushing, no feeling like I’m sneaking around in your parents’ house.”
“You are sneaking around in my parents’ house.” She looked at me over the coffee. “Thank you—for this.”
I got tangled up in her eyes. And I swear, if we were anywhere else, I wouldn’t have given her time to finish that coffee. I’d be hauling her upstairs to finish what we’d started last night. “I, um—I wondered if you’d take me to the Kris Kringle market today?”
Her eyes widened. “You want to go to the Kris Kringle market?”
I put an arm on the staircase woodwork behind her head and leaned in, hoping this would show her how much I wanted her until I got the chance to tell her with words. “Yeah. With you—after I finish helping your mom make cookies, that is.”
She looked into my eyes and smiled, and I swear my heartbeat went from eighty to two fifty. “You are so elfed up,” she said. But she was breathing a little fast. Her lips were a little open, and now she was staring at mine. She looked a little dazed. “But I like it.”
“And you’re beautiful.” I leaned over, set her coffee cup on the edge of one of the stairs behind her, and kissed her, firmly and quickly. She sucked in a surprised breath, her eyes widening, then drew her hands up to my shoulders. One kiss just wasn’t enough. So I took the time to taste her lips, placing a few soft kisses there before cupping her neck with my hand, pulling her in, and really kissing her.
I was surprised that she melted into me, kissing me back with the exact same enthusiasm. I curled my arms around her, placing my hands on her hips. She made a little sound, barely audible, the softest sigh, that made me feel like she probably wasn’t holding a grudge about last night anymore.
The sound of Beth first opening the door and talking to the dog, then the soft clattering of baking sheets being set on the island brought us both back to reality. “Then it’s settled?” I said as I pulled back, my voice a little raspy, my balance a little off.
I couldn’t help thinking that I really was pretty elfed up. Because the longer I stayed, the more I fell in love with Mia—and her family.
Mia
I could hear my mom around the corner dragging out cookie cutters and flour and vanilla and baking sheets, but I was in a haze of weak-kneed, heart-pounding discombobulation from those kisses.
I admit, I slept really badly, wondering if Brax had changed his mind, if our conversation had really happened, if he’d really said he wanted me.
But when he greeted me with fresh coffee and told me he wanted to do things right—and told me I was beautiful and kissed me—okay, all was forgiven.
But the real stunner occurred when Emma came bursting into the kitchen in fuzzy-footed pj’s and reindeer antlers with bells on them, and a big picture book in her hands, which she brought right over to Brax.
I caught my breath. It was a book I knew well, an old, worn copy of The Night Before Christmas , with gorgeous illustrations of a family in Victorian times, Mama in her kerchief and Papa in his cap, the children sleeping in their beds with visions of sugarplums over their heads.
You know how everyone has their own idea of what Santa looks like? Well, the jolly, red-cheeked, twinkling-eyed Santa in this book was it for me.
Gracie and I used to beg our dad to read it every night, and he used to, over and over again, narrating the poem with flourishes and even putting on a red-and-white striped stocking cap just like the one the dad wears to bed in the book as he throws open the sash to discover Santa’s sleigh landing on the rooftop.
I placed a hand over my chest. Be still my heart.
Brax took a moment to examine the old book, to see exactly what he was dealing with. He glanced up briefly at me, but by then, I was pretty sure I’d managed to erase the flood of emotion from my eyes.
“This is my favorite Christmas story,” he said.
“Me too,” Emma said. “Read it, read it.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the family room to a chair by the fireplace.
He didn’t say later , or I’m busy , or go read it yourself . He let himself be led, sat down, and hoisted her onto his lap.
And then he read. Except it wasn’t the monotone, rapid reading of a bored adult, but a dramatic enacting of the story. He read that poem with so much excitement and inflection, even my mom stopped what she was doing. My dad joined us as we stood near the doorway, listening. Caleb, who’d basically rolled out of bed and walked downstairs shirtless, was also caught in the magic. Even though Liam tossed him a shirt and said, “Cover the pecs, okay? This isn’t a college dorm.”
Just then, Dina walked in, wrapped in a thick, fuzzy robe. Liam gathered her in front of him, wrapping his arms around her.
We were all mesmerized until Brax used his best Santa voice to ho-ho-ho and say, “Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!”
It was quite the performance. Over the top, wonderful. Even better, it showed me that Brax had so much to give, much more than he knew. I didn’t have time to overthink it, because just then, my entire nerdy family clapped and whooped.
“I feel a little upstaged,” my dad said quietly from where he stood next to me.
I rubbed his back and gave him a squeeze. “No one could ever upstage you, Daddy.”
“Read it again!” Emma cried, glancing up at Brax with Cindy Lou Who eyes. “Can we read it again, Uncle Brax?”
My mom swooped in with a cinnamon roll and a glass of milk for Emma, effectively rescuing him.
“We’ll read it again later,” he said, his gaze straying my way. “After we make the cookies.”
And that, Dear Reader, was the moment I lost my heart for good.