48. Unsteady Ground
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
UNSTEADY GROUND
Ethan
Have you decided on Christmas plans yet?
Her response appears almost instantly.
Claire: We’re doing Christmas Eve at the ranch, like we always do.
Everyone will be there. You’re welcome to come if you’d like.
I think it would mean a lot to Ellie. I was thinking she could go home with you afterward, and then I could come by Christmas morning to watch her open presents. If that works for you.
I remind myself that it’s more than I expected.
I’d love to come. Will your dad be cleaning his shotgun?
A beat passes before her reply.
Claire: You never know. I guess you’ll have to take your chances.
On Christmas Eve, the ranch is decorated with white lights wrapped around every fence post—I still don’t know how Jensen manages it year after year.
The cold stings my cheeks as I step out of the truck carrying a stack of presents.
Inside, the house smells of cinnamon and roasted turkey. Garland hangs from every exposed beam, and a large Christmas tree stands beside the stone hearth. From the sound of the voices, everyone has already arrived.
As I carry presents into the living room the first person I notice is Claire. She stands near the fireplace, wearing a simple sweater and jeans, a glass of amber liquor in her hand.
Like every year, the evening ends with a chaotic game of charades. Sloane throws herself into it as soon as the first card is read.
At one point, her attempt to perform The Grinch looks more like she’s being attacked by a swarm of angry bees. Another round involves the movie Frozen, and she throws her arms in a dramatic flourish to mimic a gust of icy wind.
As the evening winds down and I gather my things, Peter catches my eye, his expression is unreadable. “I’ll walk you out.”
Before following me, he turns to Claire. “Don’t send Ellie out until I come back.”
Claire answers quietly. I catch the edge of their exchange, but I’m too far away to make out the words.
I pull on my heavy winter coat and wish everyone a Merry Christmas before stepping outside. He follows, closing the door behind us. The cold hits immediately, and a gust of wind sweeps across the yard. He slips his hands into his coat pockets.
“Walk with me.” He jerks his chin toward the path leading to the barn. It isn’t a request.
The snow crunches beneath our boots. I don’t hesitate. I would never refuse him. This is a man I’ve respected for as long as I’ve known him.
When we reach my truck, he stops and turns to face me.
“Ethan, I’ve been turning this conversation over in my head for months.” He holds my gaze. “Do you know what makes me the angriest?”
“I can think of a few things.”
He nods, his jaw tightening. “Yeah. That’s the problem. So can I.”
Silence stretches between us before he speaks again.
“When Claire brought you home, it was obvious to everyone that you adored her.”
“I know.”
“No.” He looks away before answering. “I don’t think you do.”
“You used to look at my daughter like she was the only person in the room. For more than twenty years, the two of you built a life together, one decision at a time. And I know what a marriage built on love looks like. I had that with Eleanor.”
His voice hardens.
“I remember the day you asked for my permission to marry her. You promised me you’d protect her heart.”
The words settle between us.
“Instead, you broke it.”
My chest tightens.
“When her mother died, Claire survived by taking care of everyone else. That’s who she’s always been. She pours herself into the people she loves until there’s almost nothing left for herself.”
I stare at the snow beneath my boots.
“She carried this family in ways you probably never even noticed,” he continues.
“She put her own dreams on hold to raise Ellie. She supported your career without keeping score. She made your house a home. And when she finally found her way back to the work that gives her purpose, you couldn’t tolerate eighteen months of sharing her with it. ”
He takes a slow breath, disappointment replacing anger.
“Marriage isn’t about being the center of your spouse’s world, Ethan. It’s about standing beside them while they become who they’re meant to be.”
His eyes meet mine again.
“You should’ve been proud of her.”
The disappointment in his voice cuts deeper than anger ever could.
The next morning, Claire arrives just as I finish making coffee. She’s wearing the most ridiculous Christmas sweater. The leg lamp from A Christmas Story juts from the front, complete with a 3D lampshade that bounces precariously with every step.
“Sloane?” I ask, pointing at her sweater.
She glances down at her outfit, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. “Oh yes, it even lights up.” She laughs, pressing a hidden button that makes the miniature lamp glow.
“Do I even want to know?”
She chuckles. “No, you don’t.”
I step aside, allowing her into the foyer.
“Coffee’s almost ready. I haven’t seen Ellie yet, but I hear her moving around upstairs. There’s a faint thumping like a restless reindeer.”
She heads straight for the coffee pot, where I set her favorite creamer, knowing she’d go looking for it.
As we wait for Ellie to come downstairs, I linger in the living room doorway, studying the Christmas tree.
Its branches are filled with ornaments we’ve collected over the course of our marriage.
Some are handmade keepsakes from Ellie’s preschool years, lopsided and dusted with glitter.
Others are delicate glass ornaments from our first Christmas as husband and wife.
A few are so old the paint has chipped, and I can’t remember where they came from anymore.
Gifts lay scattered under the tree, and stockings dangle from the mantle. Everything looks as it has every Christmas morning for years.
Just as Claire appears beside me, Ellie bursts into the room, years of practiced Christmas-morning patience forgotten.
“Can we start now?” she asks.
I laugh. “It’s only eight o’clock.”
“So?” She throws both hands into the air in a dramatic gesture that makes her long hair fly. “It was dark when I woke up. I’ve been waiting forever!”
“Because you woke up at five,” I say.
“Exactly! Forever!” she says, throwing her hands in the air.