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“We’ll wean you off gradually, just like the nurse said,” Lance told her, sitting next to her on the couch. “You’re not going to become addicted, but if you don’t stay on top of the pain, the nurse said it will get really bad and you’ll end up back in the hospital. Is that what you want?”
Erin shook her head. “I know I sound like a bratty child here, but I don’t think you understand just how hard this is for me.”
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I think, of all people, I understand the most. I know you hate feeling powerless and it’s not like you to sit around and do nothing. But you have to take care of yourself or you’re useless for taking care of anyone else. You know that. I promise I’ll help you get ready for Christmas.”
“You said when we got divorced that you were never celebrating Christmas again.”
Not only had he said that but he’d kept his word. He’d never liked how commercial the holiday had become, and hated it even more now that he and Erin were divorced. Every stupid decoration reminded him of the woman who’d loved—and left—him.
But helping Erin didn’t mean celebrating. As far as he was concerned, these could just be chores, like cleaning the toilet. He chuckled at the thought. Erin would be so offended if she heard him comparing the two, but at least the thought made the activity palatable.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
The boys came back in the room, so he didn’t have to explain. Besides, when he saw what Ryan was holding, Lance didn’t feel much like laughing anymore. He’d know that bear anywhere.
“Where did he get that?” Lance looked over at Erin.
“It was Lily’s. You and I aren’t the only ones who miss her. He doesn’t really remember her, but when he was little, he used to cry for his Lily, so I started letting him sleep with her favorite teddy bear. And now it’s his.”
Ryan squeezed his teddy to his chest. “Her name is Lily. She’s my Lily bear.”
That’s what Erin used to call Lily. Her little Lily bear. Lance had thought it a silly name and now hearing it made his heart ache.
“You gave him Lily’s bear?” Lance stared at Erin.
“I did what I thought was best. She’s not here to enjoy it, and it makes him happy, so what’s wrong with that?”
Lance didn’t answer. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t exactly take what was obviously a beloved toy away from Ryan and yet it didn’t seem fair.
“I sleep with her every night,” Ryan said. “Except for last night, and I really missed her.” Ryan squeezed the bear to his chest. “I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”
“Bears are for babies,” Dylan said, handing Erin a glass of water. “Here’s your drink, like you asked.”
“I’m not a baby. Lily bear is my special friend.”
Erin patted the seat next to her. “Of course she is. And we don’t think you’re a baby.” Erin looked over at Dylan. “Apologize to your brother.”
“Sorry,” Dylan said.
Ryan grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair then climbed up onto the couch and snuggled next to Erin. She put her arm around the little boy in such a maternal way that it made Lance’s heart hurt. How many times had he seen her do that with Lily? She’d been that way with both boys, as well, and the thing he’d always appreciated about her was how loving she’d been to all the children.
Lance hadn’t had that kind of love growing up. His parents, not the touchy-feely type, were more interested in showing off the trophies of their children’s accomplishments. Just like with Christmas. It wasn’t about celebrating the reason for the season, but about impressing their neighbors and clients. He’d always promised himself that if he had children, they’d be part of a loving family. He thought they’d given that to Lily; one of the small comforts he’d had with her short life. As much as he hadn’t wanted the divorce, sometimes he wondered if Erin had been right in pursuing it, given that he didn’t think they were capable of loving each other that way anymore.
Erin whispered something in Ryan’s ear then Ryan looked over at Dylan. “I accept your apology,” he said.
Sometimes it was easy to forget the things Lance had against Erin, especially when he was reminded of the kind and loving woman she was. He just didn’t know how that translated to being at peace with her. His counselor had told him that he needed to forgive Erin for what happened to Lily. But as much as Lance wanted to believe that Erin had learned from her mistakes, it was clear she still didn’t always think her decisions through.
If she were responsible, and thought about things logically, she wouldn’t be arguing with him over taking care of herself. She’d be more focused on getting well and taking care of the children than on some crazy idea of what she thought Christmas was supposed to be like.
Erin looked up at him. “If you can get me my pain pills, I should go ahead and take one now, before the pain gets worse. If you don’t mind, I’d also like you to put on a movie for Ryan and me to watch. Neither of us slept well last night, so we’re just going to veg out in front of the TV.”
Ryan cradled the bear in his arms as he tucked the blanket around him and Erin. It was a cozy picture. As much as Lance wanted to nurse the feelings of hurt, his heart melted a little when Ryan bent and kissed the top of his bear’s head.
Lily was dead. What did it matter that her bear was providing comfort to another child?
Once Erin was settled with her movie, Lance got out his laptop. Even though he was technically on a leave of absence, he still liked to keep up on as much as he could. But he found, as the cartoon character of Ebenezer Scrooge came on the screen, he was more focused on the movie than on his work. Erin would probably have something to say about that, but when he turned to look at her, she’d already fallen asleep. Cuddled with the little boy, she was the picture of everything he wished his life could have been had it not been cruelly taken from him.
Maybe what people didn’t understand about Lance, or about these famous characters of Christmas, was that their perceived badness didn’t happen in a vacuum. There were reasons for the pain, and it wasn’t so simple to just get over it, as everyone seemed to want them to do. Maybe it happened in the movies, but the people in the movies didn’t wake up every morning to an emptiness that nothing could ever fill.
His counselor wanted him to make peace with Erin. He still didn’t know what that meant, but he’d like to think that when he talked to her next, and he told her about taking care of Erin, she’d see this as doing just that. Surely taking care of the person who’d done the most to hurt you was a sign that you’d made peace with your past.
When Erin woke, there was a fire in the fireplace, the television was off and the boys were gone. This was why she hadn’t wanted to take the pain medicine. It made her too sleepy and she couldn’t pay attention or keep track of the boys.
Lance used to ask her how he would know that she had learned from her mistake and would never fall asleep while watching a child again. She hadn’t had an answer at the time, but living with Leah and her boys, she was always on edge if she was supposed to be watching them. True, Lance was there, but sometimes she felt that he looked at her like he was just waiting for her to mess up again. Leah often told her that even Mary lost track of a young Jesus when he went off to go preach in the synagogue. Surely if the mother of the son of God didn’t always do it right then Erin could give herself a break, as well.
Just try telling that to Lance. She shifted her weight, trying to see the best way to scoot herself off the couch and move around. She could hear laughter coming from the kitchen. It seemed selfish to spoil their fun by calling out for them. But no sooner had she flipped the lever to put the foot of the recliner down than Lance stepped into the living room, wearing the reindeer apron the boys had purchased for her last Christmas.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“What are you guys doing in there?”
He shrugged. “Making cookies. The boys showed me a Christmas binder, and while I know you want to be part of the cookie-making process, there are a lot of cookies to be baked, so we went ahead and started. What do you need to make so many Christmas cookies for, anyway?”
Lance had started making the cookies? “You don’t know how to make anything that doesn’t come out of a box.”
“They say necessity is the mother of invention. It’s too expensive to eat out all the time, and I don’t like eating frozen dinners day in and day out. So I watched a few videos on the internet and, while I’ll never be a chef, I won’t starve.”
“You were good at grilling,” she said. Then she added, “Our church has refreshments every Sunday after the service. But they also like to do something a little special for the holidays. Baking cookies relaxes me, so I volunteered to do extra this year. I’m just glad my day to bring them wasn’t today. At least we’ll have them for next week.”
She tried not to sound discouraged as she spoke. Before her nap, she’d sounded so whiny that she’d gotten on her own nerves. Even now she was trying not to let the situation get the best of her. It had been a silly accident and she needed to find a way to look on the bright side.
“I didn’t realize you started going to church again,” he said.
He looked like he was going to add something argumentative but then he stopped. The counselor had recommended they go to church together, but Lance had informed her that he saw no point in chasing after a God who could be so cruel as to take their child from them.
“It’s been a great way for us to get involved in our community. Pastor Roberts is a wonderful teacher and we’ve all grown a lot closer to the Lord thanks to him. I’ve never been part of a place where the people were so warm and welcoming.”
The hesitation on his face was confirmation of just how far apart they’d grown and why she couldn’t see them having a future together. Maybe, for all the doubts she’d had about their divorce, having him there now was what she needed as confirmation of what had truly become important in her life.
“I don’t believe in God anymore,” he said.
Erin took a deep breath. “I know. But that’s something for the two of you to work out. If you’d rather not help with the cookies, I understand. Even though everyone I know is busy with their own holiday preparations, I’m sure I can find someone to help me.”
Though she’d put a cheerful tone in her voice, she knew that many of the people from church already had too many commitments on their plates. She’d ended up signing up to make extra because they hadn’t had enough people who could do it.
“It’s just cookies,” he said. “It’s not like I have to go—” He stopped. “I’m going to have to take you to church, aren’t I?”
She honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead. She would like to go to church, but she was already asking a lot of Lance. She’d seen the look on his face when she’d explained about Lily’s bear becoming Ryan’s.
“I’ll try to find a ride. My boss, Ricky, drives right past here on his way. If he can’t pick us up, maybe you could just drop us off and then go have a cup of coffee and pastry. There’s a great café in town that has the best bear claws.”
Lance gave her a funny look. “I like bear claws.”
If it were anyone but Lance, she’d have hugged him. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to hug him, but because it was Lance, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave his arms after being in them again. She’d already struggled with it when he’d brought her into the house. It was hard being so close to someone she’d loved for so long...their relationship was now so different.
He helped her into the kitchen, where the boys were making shapes out of dough. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but she could see Lance’s laptop perched on the counter with the video paused.
How was she supposed to remain immune to him? That’s what she’d never been able to understand about Lance. How could you not like a man who didn’t know how to cook, hated Christmas, but was willing to go online and watch videos to learn how to bake Christmas cookies for a woman in need?
“Here, Auntie Erin,” Ryan said, handing her a glob of dough. “You have to make it into candy cane shapes.”
As she got closer, she realized that they had white and red dough that they were making into ropes and then twisting into a candy cane shape.
“Candy cane cookies?” she asked. “I haven’t had these in ages.”
“You used to make these cookies—”
When we were married. At least that’s what Erin thought Lance was about to say. He used to tell her that they were his favorite cookies. His grandmother had made them for him. And Erin, wanting to do something nice for him, had made them. Personally she’d never liked them. But she’d always made them for Lance. She hadn’t made them since their divorce. There wasn’t any point given that Lance had been the only one who’d liked them. She should have known this would have been his default choice. It just hadn’t occurred to her how much that choice would affect her.
It was strange, remembering the simple thing she’d done for him to put that look of happiness on his face. He might not understand the big deal about Christmas but, for Erin, the big deal, at least in terms of why all this meant so much to her, was that there was nothing like the expression of joy on someone’s face when they realized that you’d taken the time to think of them and do something special for them.
Erin, who had spent so much of her life as the middle child, not being noticed in the same way as her siblings, liked to make sure everyone felt noticed. Important. And Christmas was the perfect time to show people in very special ways what they meant to her.
Lance might think her vision of the perfect Christmas was silly, but he’d never been as sentimental as she was.
While she had never intended for Lance to remain a part of her holiday traditions, God had him there for a reason. Even though she hadn’t been able to think of any sort of peace he might need from her or she from him, obviously God had something different in mind for this holiday season. She just prayed that whatever it was, when her sisters returned and life was back to normal, it wouldn’t hurt so much to say goodbye to Lance again.
Chapter Three (#u367444fe-0fed-5079-8036-4ef84f7a8f06)
If Lance hadn’t once been married to Erin, he’d have thought her giant Christmas planner a joke. But when it came to Erin and her planners, she was dead serious. The only trouble was, Lance wasn’t sure how he was going to accomplish all the items on her list. It was tempting to simply do the items that were easy and skip the rest, but that would mean Erin would just find a way to do them herself.
And judging from the way her face scrunched up in pain when she tried to stretch the time period between medication, her injury was still bothering her a couple days after the accident. It was to be expected, but not when you were Erin and you had a list.
That was why Lance found himself standing on the front porch, wrapped in winter gear after picking up the boys from school. It had remained cold enough after the snow that Erin was determined to check off one of the items on her list—sledding.
The boys ran out from the barn, carrying an old sled. “Here it is, Uncle Lance.”
Erin came stomping onto the porch. To go outside, Lance had layered garbage bags over her boot to keep her foot dry, but it made it more difficult for her to maneuver.
“That hill over there is good for sledding,” she said, pointing to a nice area in front of the house. “I can stay here on the porch and watch you guys.”
She didn’t look happy about it and he didn’t blame her. After all, sledding was fun. They’d often gone with friends to a giant hill near their house. The passing thought brought an ache to his heart.
A few months before Erin had gotten pregnant they’d gone sledding together. It had been the most wonderful day and Lance could still remember cuddling by the crackling fire with Erin, talking about how someday they’d bring their kids to do the same.
Only it hadn’t ever happened.
Lily had died before she was old enough to enjoy the giant sledding hill.
He glanced over at Erin. Did she remember?
Maybe it didn’t matter to her the way it did to him. But remembering, at least for him, was what made it so difficult to move on and find peace. It was easy to go on with his life, being angry with Erin. However his anger was only part of the story. The other part was the great love he’d once had for her and not understanding how it could so easily be gone. How she could just walk away from it. And why, as much as she had hurt him, he could still cling to those memories and wish things had turned out differently.
Dylan handed him the sled. Even though it wouldn’t have been Lance’s first choice, it looked safe enough. Lance glanced over at Erin.
She gave him a smile and gestured at the hill. “Go on. I don’t know why, but it’s always seemed to me that sledding makes it more Christmassy. We don’t always have enough snow around Christmas, so I’m excited to give the boys a chance.”
Erin sat on the chair he’d brought out for her then took the camera from around her neck and held it up. “Leah will be sad to have missed it, but I’ll get some great pictures for her.”
When they’d been married, Erin had often told him that a picture couldn’t replace being there. She’d been angry with him for all the time he’d spent at work. In their fights leading up to the divorce, she’d mentioned it more than once. Their daughter had just died and she’d wanted to rub it in about all the things he’d missed.
Maybe she was right. But he’d been doing his best, trying to provide a life for their family. He’d always thought that as the business grew, and Lily got older, it would be easier to take the time off that he needed. He just hadn’t counted on not having the opportunity to watch his daughter grow up. He’d never thought that the someday he’d been counting on wouldn’t ever come.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the boys. They had picked up some snow and were tossing small snowballs at each other.
Erin must have sensed where his attention had gone. “It’s okay. We’ve talked to the boys about safety and they know it’s okay to throw snowballs, as long as they’re little ones and you have the other person’s permission.”
She sounded so prim as she spoke, the great rule enforcer. But the two of them had gotten into enough snowball fights of their own that Lance knew Erin didn’t always fight fair.
He bent and picked up a little bit of snow, carefully shaping it into a ball as he walked toward her.
“Don’t tell me that’s for me,” she said, looking at him sternly. “You wouldn’t harm a poor, defenseless woman, would you?”
He grinned. “That’s never stopped you before.”
Erin glanced over at the boys. “That was in the past. And my sisters and I have agreed that all our snowball fights would be fair.”
Lance could attest to the sheer brutality of their competitiveness when it came to games and things like snowball fights. That was odd, considering how well they all got along otherwise. If the brothers took after the sisters, Lance could see why they would need to institute rules on fairness.
“But I’m not your sister,” he said, coming closer.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Until that moment he hadn’t been planning on using the snowball against her. But there was something about the gleam in her eyes that felt like an irresistible dare.
He tossed the snowball in her direction. It hit her square in the chest.
Erin jumped up. “You’re going to regret that.”
She hobbled over to the porch railing and grabbed some of the snow that was still there. It was good snow. The soft, fluffy kind that made for easy packing. It would have been easy to walk away, or at least to dodge her attack. But it had been a long time since Lance had seen that look in her eyes and he’d be a fool if he didn’t admit that it was one of the most beautiful things he’d seen in a long time. It wasn’t that Erin was pretty. Because pretty wasn’t the right word for her. There was something strong, fierce and incredibly awe-inspiring in her eyes. The expression was what had attracted him to Erin in the first place, because he knew that if you were fortunate enough to have the love of a woman like that, you had more than most men ever dreamed of.
A snowball hit him smack in the face.
That was a good reminder of the downside to loving a woman like Erin.
Lance picked up another handful of snow. Erin scooped more from the railing.
“Do you really want to do this?” she asked. “Because I will win.”
