37. Arthur

37

ARTHUR

I ’d never experienced a Christmas Eve like this one. Scott, Ryland, and I sat in front of the fireplace and toasted each other with glasses of wine. The fire crackled and popped, sending wafts of pine into the study.

Megan, Hannah, and Liddy had disappeared an hour ago with explicit instructions that we were to stay put and enjoy ourselves.

“What do you think they’re doing?” Scott swirled his wine around his glass and took a casual sip.

“I don’t know but I’m pretty sure it involves food.” Ryland sniffed the air. “Anyone else smell that?”

“I smell that.” Scott pointed his wine glass at the fire. Ryland stood and walked to the door. He leaned against the frame and finished his wine.

“Definitely food. Ham, I think.”

I set my wine glass down and stood. “Well, I’m about to ignore our orders. Anyone else?” I slid past Ryland. “It’s Christmas Eve, and as much as I love you two, I’d rather spend time with everyone. Including my daughter.”

“Let’s go.” Scott elbowed me and tried to dart past.

I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back with a laugh as I shoved him toward Ryland. “Last one there has to wash dishes.” I ran like hell itself nipped at my heels. I’d never been so carefree, especially not at Christmastime.

The kitchen door swung open and Liddy stepped out. She crossed her arms and glared. “No running in the house.” Her scowl turned into a giggle when I scooped her up and ran us both into the kitchen. “Mama, it’s his fault.” She jabbed a finger into my shoulder.

“That’s right. Blame me.” I lowered Liddy onto a stool in front of the island. “We want to help.”

“Here, stir this.” Megan handed me a bowl of lumpy potatoes. “We want some lumps but not too many. Add butter, milk, and salt.”

“How much?” I eyed the ingredients.

Hannah laughed. “Until it’s right.”

Scott and Ryland eased around either side of me. “What about us?” Ryland asked.

Hannah puffed her cheeks full of air. “Check the ham. Glaze it if needed.” When Ryland made a what-does-that-mean expression, she walked him over to the stove and explained.

I whipped the potatoes around, then smashed them into the bottom of the bowl. “Don’t we have a machine that can do this?”

“You want to do everything the easy way?” A hint of a challenge lit Megan’s voice. She put her elbows on the counter and watched Hannah over her shoulder. “Ask her why she’s cooking on Christmas Eve.”

“Hey, Hannah.” I added a dollop of butter to the potatoes and kept stirring. “Is there something special about this meal?”

She shot Megan a look. “It’s Dad’s meal. He always cooked ham, potatoes, and a bunch of other stuff on Christmas Eve. It’s been tradition for as long as I can remember.”

“Henry did love his traditions.” We’d learned that back in college. Seemed he’d rubbed off on Hannah too. I mashed another lumpy potato. Megan moved closer to me, bringing her platter of rolls over, buttering the tops, and sat on the last remaining stool. I kept my gaze on the potatoes but felt her looking me over. I’d dressed casually today, we all had. No one wanted to walk around in a business suit on Christmas Eve. I’d paired a red sweater with gray slacks and left my shoes in my closet, choosing instead a pair of fuzzy reindeer socks Megan had given me a few years ago.

“I remember those.” She pointed at my feet. “They were a gag gift. I knew you’d never wear them.”

“He wears them every year.” Ryland tapped his chest. “And I have the pictures to prove it.”

“Seriously? Dad.” Megan shook her head. “You have to learn to recognize when people are being satirical.”

“Gifts from my daughter are treasured no matter what they are.” I wiggled my toes, making the reindeer’s red nose jiggle. “And they’re good socks.” Megan started to speak but stopped abruptly. I’d knocked her speechless. That was a first.

“Liddy, where’s your giraffe?” Hannah raised her head from the stove where she stood with Ryland. “I thought you put him on the shelf?”

“I did. He didn’t like it there. He wanted to look at the Christmas tree.” Liddy pointed toward the door and the living room on the other side. “He wants to know when we’re going to decorate it.”

“Soon.” I finished with the potatoes and slid them toward Megan. “Taste test?”

Picking up one of the small spoons, she dug out a bite and popped it into her mouth. “More salt.” She added it herself, gave them another stir, and called it finished. Scott took the rolls from her and slid them into the oven under Hannah’s direction.

“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas?” Megan twirled the spoon around in her fingers, avoiding my gaze when I faced her. I considered the question for several seconds.

“I always look forward to seeing you. I know you think that’s a pat answer to try and earn your favor, but it’s true.”

Her eyes slid toward me, then away again. “I remember one Christmas where you brought in a whole sleigh and reindeer. We dressed up and you drove the sleigh around the yard for hours.”

“One of my favorite Christmases.” I gripped her shoulder and brought her in for a side hug. “That was the last Christmas we had where you stayed.” I stopped before I ruined the moment.

“I was trying to punish you. I saw how much you loved the season, and I wanted to make you as miserable as possible. As miserable as I was the rest of the year.” The admission came in slow, halting words. She lowered the spoon to the counter. “You always tried so hard to make it special and memorable. I didn’t appreciate that you were trying to show me how much you loved me.”

“I should have told you.” It was the single worst thing I’d ever done, to let my daughter grow up doubting that I loved her. If I’d told her more, shown her more, maybe all these years of anger could have been avoided.

Ryland and Scott carved the ham while Hannah and Liddy carried plates and silverware into the dining room. They were present but not interfering.

“I wanted to be mad at you,” Megan admitted in a whisper. “It was easier that way. If I stayed mad, then it didn’t hurt so much when I had to leave.”

“Is that why you’d always pick a fight and take off so soon?” It made sense in a weird way. Realizing the pain my daughter had experienced tore me apart. I’d have given anything to be able to change that for her, to carry the weight of it myself.

“Yeah.” She took her time standing when Hannah announced that dinner was ready. She’d opened up to me, letting me get to know her while she learned about me. It was progress. I wanted to push for more but settled for what she offered. Megan had my stubbornness, and we’d butted heads often enough for me to have learned when to back off. She’d retreat if I went at her with a million questions.

We all filed into the dining room and found our seats. Megan took the one closest to me and once we’d all filled our plates and conversations picked up, she seemed to settle into the family dynamic in a way I’d never seen from her. She chatted with Scott and Ryland, complimented Hannah on the food, and played a game with Liddy that included guessing what the other was thinking.

We’d given Deena a few weeks off to visit her family and all pitched in so that Hannah didn’t feel the need to do all the work. We were past all that. She was family too, and I hoped to one day make her my wife. Our wife. The stickiness of the logistics threatened to bog me down, but I focused on the present and stopped borrowing trouble for the future.

“I’m on dish duty.” Ryland rolled up his sleeves and began gathering up a stack of dirty plates.

“Can we talk some more?” Megan’s chair scraped the floor when she stood.

With a wink from Hannah, I followed Megan into the living room. The bare tree looked obscene amid the red berries and boughs lining the mantle. We’d already decorated three trees, but Hannah insisted on one more, along with a decorating party later tonight where everyone had to participate. Either she knew something I didn’t, or this was another of Henry’s traditions she sought to keep alive.

Megan opened one of the boxes of decorations and grinned. “I remember this.” She pulled out my snow globe ornament from Henry and spun it around. She shook it hard, sending the snow flying around the little Christmas village trapped away in a world of perpetual happiness. “I want a better relationship with you.”

Quick. Quiet. The words pierced the distance and shot straight into my heart.

“I’d love that. I have wanted it for years.” I wrapped my hands around hers and brought the snow globe up to eye level. We watched each other through the whirling snow. “Will you stay after Christmas?” It almost felt like asking for too much but my yearning for my daughter’s presence overruled everything else.

“For a while. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but I’ve realized that my anger and resentment have robbed me of the opportunity to have a relationship with you. I’ve missed you, without recognizing that I was most of the problem. Not you.”

I pulled her into a hug that threatened to crush the snow globe between us. Love flowed thick as honey through my veins. I wanted to hold us there forever. I’d never hugged her as much as this year in all the previous years combined. It was a fierce and overwhelming feeling to have her acceptance and promise that we’d work on our issues. “I promise you that I will not go back to how I was before. I want us to be able to talk about our problems.”

“Talking is good.” She laughed into my chest. “Especially when I keep myself under control and don’t yell and accuse you all the time.”

Agreed. I kept that thought pinned away. “We’ll figure this out, Megan. We’re family. You’re welcome here any time. All the time.” I rocked us side to side. “Your room is always available for you.”

“Thanks, Dad. I can’t promise I’ll move in or anything, but I’ll come by more often.” She grinned but a hint of fear lingered in her eyes. “I don’t want to come around so much you’ll get sick of me.”

“Never. Nothing would make me happier than to spend more time with you.” I meant every word and more.

Best Christmas ever.