Алисон Робертс – Twins For Christmas: A Little Christmas Magic / Lone Star Twins / A Family This Christmas (страница 13)

Was it so bad to dream of doing something a bit out of the ordinary? Okay … a lot out of the ordinary, but this was about Christmas, wasn’t it? About making a little bit of magic?

So she held Adam’s angry glare and lifted her chin.

‘Yes,’ she said clearly. ‘It was my idea. And Caitlin McMurray loved it. She said she’d talk to the hall committee about getting permission and that she could probably arrange transport to get Jemima into the village for the evening.’

Adam was on his feet now. He crumpled his serviette into a ball and threw it down beside his unfinished plate of food.

‘Have you seen the state of the village hall? It’s crumbling inside. The floorboards all need replacing. Quite apart from the public-health issues of an animal needing to relieve itself indoors, there would be the danger of the floor giving way. Imagine the panic that would create? Not only could Jemima get injured but so could anybody who was unfortunate enough to be sitting anywhere nearby. Like my children. You’re suggesting that I allow you to put them in danger for the sake of a school play?’

‘It’s a Christmas play.’ Emma was not going to let her voice wobble like Poppy’s had but it was a close call. ‘It’s special.’

‘Ach …’ Adam turned and strode towards the door. ‘I’m going to find somewhere I can get away from this nonsense. And I don’t want to hear anything more about it. From any of you.’

Bob followed his master from the kitchen but his head was hanging low. Benji started to follow Bob but then stopped and slowly slunk back beneath the kitchen table.

Emma swallowed a gulp. She reached out with one hand to squeeze Poppy’s hand. She would have squeezed Oliver’s too, but he promptly put both his hands in his lap to avoid her touch.

‘It’s okay,’ she told them with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘Daddy just needs time to get used to the idea. He’s a little bit cross but he’ll get over it, you’ll see.’ She found a smile. ‘Why don’t we all have some ice cream?’

‘We’re not allowed,’ Oliver informed her. ‘We haven’t eaten all our vegetables.’

‘I’ll bet Benji would eat them if we put them in his dish.’

The children looked astonished. Was an adult actually suggesting something naughty?

It wasn’t the first time that Emma had been struck by how like his father Oliver was. He was deep, this little boy, and there was a sadness in him that shouldn’t be there. It made her heart ache.

‘Sometimes,’ she said softly, ‘we all need a cuddle. And having a treat like ice cream—it kind of gives us a cuddle from the inside and makes us feel better. A tummy cuddle.’

Poppy climbed off her chair and onto Emma’s lap. She wound her skinny arms around Emma’s neck and buried her face on her shoulder. Emma happily gathered the little girl closer and rocked her a little as she cuddled her. She held out her other arm in an invitation for Oliver to join them but he stayed where he was with his head bent as if he was staring at his hands.

They heard the roar from Adam all the way from the living room. Oh … dear Lord … Emma had forgotten the tree they’d installed in there as soon as they’d got home, thanks to the clever stand the Christmas-tree man had sold her along with the spruce the children had declared the best.

They could hear the furious footfalls as he came storming back into the kitchen.

‘Whose idea was that, as if I couldn’t guess?’

It was Emma receiving the full force of the glare this time.

‘It has to stop, do you hear me? I won’t have it.’ Adam didn’t have to reach far above his head to grab hold of one of the paper chains. And it didn’t take much of a tug to have it break and drift down in pieces.

‘We don’t do Christmas.’ He wasn’t shouting but the quiet words were chillingly final. ‘Not in this house.’

Poppy burst into tears. Oliver was staring at the falling paper chains and Emma just knew she was going to see this staunch little boy cry for the first time, too. But the sound that came out of his mouth was more like a cry of fear.

‘Daddy …’ His pointing was urgent and Emma turned her head automatically, in time to see the flames from the paper chain that had landed on top of the stove.

With a vehement curse Adam flung himself towards that side of the kitchen. He grabbed a tea towel, put it under the cold tap and then covered the pile of burning paper. It was all over in seconds.

Except that it wasn’t over. Both the children were sobbing and this time Oliver had no objection when Emma gathered him under her free arm and took both children out of the kitchen and away from their father.

They were still sobbing by the time she’d got them bathed and into bed. Poppy fell asleep almost instantly, totally worn out by her misery. When Emma went back to check on Oliver again, she found he was also asleep—a tight ball of child entirely covered by bedding, with only his nose poking out. She bent and kissed the cold little nose.

‘It’ll be okay,’ she whispered, just in case he wasn’t really asleep. ‘I promise.’

She would just have to make it okay, she decided as she forced herself to go back downstairs instead of going to hide in her room, which was what she would have preferred.

Somehow she would have to put things right.

Adam didn’t hear Emma coming down the stairs but he knew she was on her way by the subtle change in the dogs. The way they pricked their ears and Benji’s tail made an almost apologetic sweep of the tiles that he couldn’t suppress.

He didn’t look up, however, so he was still sitting there at the table with his forehead resting on one hand and a whisky glass encircled by the other as she came into the kitchen. He hadn’t cleaned up the mess of charred paper yet and all he’d done with the plates of half-eaten food had been to push them to one side to make room for the whisky decanter and two glasses.

Two glasses?

Well … he had to start somewhere, didn’t he?

‘I’m sorry.’ It was harder than he’d expected to get the words out. A shame it made it sound like he didn’t really mean it but he did. He was absolutely appalled at how he’d behaved. And in front of the children …

He shoved the empty glass towards the closest chair at his end of the table. ‘Help yourself.’

She probably didn’t even drink whisky, he thought, as he remembered her refusal the other night. The night when he’d had the impression that she understood exactly how he was feeling.

Could he make her understand this?

The fact that she sat down in the chair and then reached to pull the stopper out of the decanter gave him a glimmer of hope. At least she was prepared to listen. He waited until he’d heard her pour herself a dram and then the clink of the stopper going back. He still couldn’t look up to meet her gaze, however.

‘It was the tree,’ he said. ‘It was in the same place. Exactly the same place.’

There. He’d said it. Only maybe it wasn’t enough because all he got back was an expectant silence. He risked a glance up from the amber liquid he was swirling in the bottom of his glass.

Blue eyes, she had. With a hint of grey, like the sea when there was a storm on the horizon. Right now they looked as big as oceans, too. She looked as though she could already see all she needed to know but she wanted to hear the words as well.

Adam took a sip of the warmed whisky and felt the fire trickle down his gullet.

‘The tree was right there beside the fire,’ he said finally. ‘When I got back home on Christmas Eve. It was covered with all its decorations and the lights were still flashing as though nothing had happened. All the presents were underneath, waiting for the bairns in the morning.’

Still Emma said nothing.

‘I’d had to go all the way to Edinburgh,’ Adam continued. ‘To identify Tania’s body. I’d been thinking all the way that she would be terribly burned and it would be the worst thing I’d ever seen but there wasn’t a mark on her, apart from the soot in her hair and around her nose and mouth.’

It had still been the worst thing he’d ever had to deal with, though. The shock of seeing his dead wife had been terrible enough. To be told she hadn’t been alone in her bed had been an additional blow he hadn’t been able to handle.

The police had been so understanding. Apologetic, really, at having to deliver the extra blow. Sympathetic. It could be kept quiet, if that’s what he would prefer.

Of course he would. Nobody would ever know. Emma certainly didn’t need to know, even though it was tempting to tell her, thanks to the look of appalled empathy in her eyes. Did he want her to really understand? To feel … sorry for him?

No.

He cleared his throat. ‘She’d died from the smoke inhalation, not the flames.’

Flames. How shocking had it been to see that paper chain erupt? The children must have been terrified and it was all because he hadn’t known what to do with that dreadful surge of feelings that had been unbearable.

‘It was very late by the time I got back. My mother was asleep upstairs with the children and it was the early hours of Christmas Day. The day I would have to tell my bairns that their mummy wasn’t coming home.’

‘I’m so sorry, Adam.’ The words were a whisper and when he looked up again there were tears rolling down the side of Emma’s nose.