Chapter 24 #2
Christian did as he was asked, helping his father stand.
The old man wheezed and limped his way to the bookcase beside the fire.
After a moment of searching, he pulled a novel from the shelf.
It was a first edition of The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe , and seeing it again after all these years brought back so many memories that Christian felt dizzy with the force of them.
“You remember it,” said his dad.
“Of course.” Christian took the book and blew the dust from it. “Mum gave it to me. She wrapped it up and hid it among the fake presents beneath the tree in the store. It’s so weird, I was just thinking about this. I can’t believe you’ve still got it.”
“Of course I do,” his dad said. “I know I wasn’t a good father to you, Christian, certainly not after Olivia died, and probably not much before that, either. You probably remember Christmases when I wasn’t there.”
Christian nodded. They had been exactly that. Most years his dad hadn’t been there to give him his presents, Browick had done it instead.
“But you have to understand how hard it was,” his dad went on, staring at the flames.
“It was your mother’s favourite time of year, and the only good I saw in it died with her.
I just couldn’t bring myself to be happy without her, not even for you.
And for that, I’m sorry. But you’re wrong about something. ”
“What?” Christian asked.
“That book. Your mum didn’t buy it for you. I did.”
“No,” said Christian. “I remember it — she wrapped it for me and left it there after you told me off for opening the display presents.”
Lewis smiled sadly. “I did tell you off,” he said.
“And I felt rotten for it. So I bought you the book to say sorry. I wrapped it and hid it beneath the tree, and I was going to be there when you opened it, only something came up. I can’t remember what — store business.
It was always store business.” He sighed. “So your mum did it.”
He paused, then reached into his pocket. “Same year I gave this to your mum. Here, you keep it now.”
He pulled out a small velvet box and handed it to Christian.
Inside was a delicate spiral necklace that made Christian’s heart ache as he vividly remembered his mum wearing it.
Christian stared at it for a long time, the past catching up to him in a quiet rush.
Lewis looked up at him, and Christian noticed that for the first time in his life he was taller than his father.
“You might not remember, son, but we did have good times, lots of them, even after she died. Every Christmas Eve we sat right here and opened new books, reading them by the fire. I wish I’d been there for you more.
There’s not a day that goes by I don’t wish I’d done things differently, or that we had the chance to do it again.
But hey, we don’t get to turn back time. We only get to look forward, right?”
“Right,” said Christian. He hadn’t expected this at all, and the sudden rush of emotion paralysed him.
His dad wheezed in a breath, coughing loudly. Then he took Christian’s hand in his, his skin as cold as marble. For a moment, Christian wondered if his father would tell him more about the good times. But it was just store business. It was always store business.
“You’re here. You have something to tell me?”
“I do,” said Christian, sighing. He held his father for a moment, then let go. “I found something out.”
His dad’s expression sharpened. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” said Christian, taking a deep breath. “Somebody is paying people to leave Carroll’s. Somebody is deliberately sabotaging the store.”
His dad’s breaths came in great, gulping wheezes as he took in what he was being told.
“Somebody is giving cash payouts to anyone who leaves,” Christian went on. “Somebody wants this business to die. At first, I thought it might be another store, somebody trying to put Carroll’s under before Christmas. But then I did some digging. Dad, I know who’s doing this.”
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Lewis. “It’s not Margot.”
“Are you sure?” Christian asked. “She’s got a lot to gain.”
“And a lot to lose,” his dad said. “Margot’s been good to me. If she was my own family, then she would be in charge, I have no doubt about it. It’s not too late, you know.”
“Too late for what?” Christian asked, frowning.
“For you to change your mind and come back permanently. Find someone to marry, settle down and have kids to pass on the family name.”
“Dad, whoa,” said Christian, holding up a hand.
“This isn’t medieval England — you can’t just marry your children off to continue your legacy.
I’m here to help you save Carroll’s, that’s all.
But if you won’t even listen to what I’m telling you I’ve found, then I don’t know what to do.
If Margot thinks she can get what she wants by bringing the store to its knees, then marching in to save it, that’s exactly what she’ll do.
Either that or somebody else has promised her the top job in another company if she can force us into bankruptcy. ”
“It’s not that bad,” said his dad.
“It is,” said Christian. “We’re just days away from Christmas and the store is sinking fast. There’s nobody out there anymore. People are leaving without buying, going elsewhere.”
“So, you save it,” said his dad, looking right at him. “Quit your job overseas, come back to us full-time — not as a janitor, but as the CEO.”
“I . . .”
Christian hesitated, a thought needling itself into the back of his brain. This encounter had been so unexpected. His dad had always been one to launch straight into an argument, to avoid any kind of emotional exchange. But he was being so open, so honest.
It’s because he’s dying , Christian thought, chasing the unbearable words away with a shake of his head. But it was true. Nothing made you more honest than death. Nothing made you more open to reconciliation.
Nothing made you more desperate.
“Oh God, Dad. It’s not Margot, is it?” Christian said, the realisation like a flashbang going off inside his skull. “Oh, Dad, no. It’s you . You’re paying people off. You’re bringing down the store.”
His dad didn’t look at him. He just stared at the fire, his sad eyes full of reflected flames.
“But why, Dad? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Only it did make sense. It made an awful kind of sense.
“It was the only way,” Lewis said after a moment.
“The only way to bring me back,” said Christian. “But you could have just asked. You could have just opened up to me.”
“I did ask,” said his father. “I asked a hundred times. I just didn’t ask the way I should have.
Then it was too late. I knew that you wouldn’t come back for me, but that you might come back for the store.
Let’s face it, in some ways it was more of a parent to you than I ever was.
It sheltered you, it cared for you, it was always there for you. ”
Lewis sighed, then turned to Christian. A tear wound its way over the wrinkles of his face and Christian watched it, aghast. He couldn’t ever remember seeing his father cry before.
“I’m not trying to kill the store. I was never going to let it get that bad, at least I tried not to,” he said.
“I just wanted you back in my life. I don’t know how long I’ve got, and I just wanted the chance to see you again, to make it all okay.
And you’re here, which means so much to me.
You’re here, and you care — about me, about the store, about everything. ”
“Of course I do, Dad,” Christian said. “Always. I love you.”
“I love you too, son,” his dad said, opening his arms. Christian held his father, feeling how weak he was, hearing the rattle of his lungs as he breathed.
He was shocked, and there was a trace of anger there at what he’d just discovered, but it was drowned by the force of the love he still held for the old man.
His head was full of memories flowing into his mind like a dam had burst — memories of trips to the park, to the zoo, out on the boat on the river.
Memories of his mum and dad lifting him up between them in the autumn, the falling leaves like flames.
And memories of Christmas, those early years when he’d woken up in the morning and found his father cooking breakfast in the kitchen, a mountain of presents beneath the tree.
His dad was right — there had been good times. But Christian had been so focused on the bad that he’d forgotten them.
“I want you to take a long, hard look at yourself, Christian,” Lewis said, coughing into his oxygen mask.
“I want you to ask yourself what you’re really running away from.
And I want you to think — really think — about whether there is something here, in this family, in this city, in this store, that is worth staying for. ”
Christian started to reply, but something kept the words from coming out. He took a deep breath, thinking about his family — how only his dad remained. He thought about the city, a city that had once offered him so much hope, and he thought about the store. What was he running from?
“I want you to be happy, and to be happy here.” His dad went on. “It’s not much to ask, is it? Let’s make this a new start. This is the last chapter of my life, son, so let’s read this one together, please?”
Christian looked down at the fire, feeling the warmth of it against his skin, losing himself in the flickering flames. If he could just make it work with Merry, then being happy and being here, in New York, wasn’t much to ask at all. He was tired of travelling.
He took a deep breath, making a decision right there.
“I’ll stay.”
For his dad, for the store, and for Merry.