Ami Weaver – A Husband For The Holidays (страница 2)
Well, yeah, actually it had. Worse, probably.
He stared out his office window at the snow, which had changed from pellets to flakes. The radio station playing in the waiting area announced, between Christmas tunes, that three to six inches of the white stuff was expected by morning. It’d be a white Thanksgiving. Not uncommon in northern Michigan.
Darcy’s uncle would be thrilled. And so should Mack.
Mack rubbed his hand over his face. Had Joe and Marla told their niece how he’d been helping out at the farm? Would she have come back if she’d known? He liked them. He enjoyed the labor of trimming the trees, mowing, whatever Joe needed done on the farm. They’d become friends, even with their shared history, but it was funny how the older man hadn’t mentioned Darcy’s imminent return. Mack was supposed to go out there tonight and help with some of the prep for the tree farm’s official opening the day after Thanksgiving. He wanted to make sure this last year went off flawlessly.
Canceling wasn’t an option. He knew Joe needed the extra hands more than ever.
Would Joe inform Darcy of the evening’s plans?
A small part of him acknowledged the appeal of showing up and seeing her shocked reaction. Letting her see he was fine and completely over her. He’d moved on with his life. Seven years was a long time and he wasn’t that man anymore.
It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to go there. He’d managed to compartmentalize his relationship with Darcy’s uncle away from what he’d had with her. That part of his life was over. At least until now, when it looked as though the past had come back to haunt him.
Sherry appeared in his door. “Jim Miller and Kiko are here. Jennifer’s not back from lunch yet,” she said, then really looked at him and frowned. “You okay, Mack? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
She wasn’t too far off the mark. In a way, he had.
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’ll be with them in a few minutes.”
As she exited his office, he sighed and pulled up Kiko’s chart on the computer. Kiko was one of many pets he’d see today. Jim and his wife were getting a divorce, and the older man had gotten Kiko, a Siamese cat, as company. Some marriages weren’t meant to be, no matter how promising they started out.
Like his and Darcy’s.
He filed the unhelpful thoughts away and went to get his patient, whom he could hear yowling from the waiting room. Still, in the back of his head, all he could think was
His ex-wife was back.
* * *
Darcy Kramer drove through downtown Holden’s Crossing, her hometown until she’d fled after the bust-up of her marriage at the young age of twenty-three. She’d always loved the town at Christmas. The cheery decorations, the snow, the old-fashioned charm of the buildings added up to magic for a young girl. Somehow there was comfort in knowing it hadn’t really changed.
Had it really been almost eight years since she was here? She truly hadn’t intended to stay away so long. Shame tugged at her conscience. She knew Mack’s older brother, Chase, had seen her back at the gas station. The look he’d given her was far colder than the wind that whipped outside. Had he gone straight to Mack? Probably.
Pain bloomed in her chest. The Lawless family pulled together tight when one of their own was hurt. Except, apparently, those related only by marriage. Those weeks after the accident and the loss of their baby, as her marriage crumbled under the weight of shared grief and her guilt, they’d set themselves firmly in Mack’s camp. And he’d turned to them for comfort, rather than her.
She inhaled deeply and forced the memories down. To get through these next two weeks, she had to keep Mack out of her mind as much as possible. Her focus was helping her aunt and uncle, who’d raised her after she lost her parents, with their last Christmas season with the farm.
She gripped the wheel a little tighter. One last Christmas before the tree farm went up for sale. Before he’d died, her father had asked his brother to include Darcy in the final season if they ever sold the farm. So she’d agreed to take two weeks’ vacation from her PR job in Chicago and come home.
Home.
Even though she hadn’t been here in many years, it was still her childhood home, entwined in her heart and her memories, both the good and not so good. She’d missed being here. But coming back—and possibly facing Mack—hadn’t been an option. Until now.
She accelerated as she exited the town limits. The steadily falling snow wasn’t yet sticking to the roads, though it was starting to coat the grass. Figured, she’d get up here just in time for the first real snow of the season. Good timing, really. The snow added to the festive holiday atmosphere Kramer Tree Farm prided itself on.
She flexed her fingers on the steering wheel. Two weeks. She could do it. Then she could go back to Chicago and her carefully ordered life. She’d worked so hard for some measure of peace.
She turned on the road leading to the farm. Right away she saw the fences lining the property by the road were faded, even broken in some places. She pulled over in one such spot and got out, zipping the down vest she wore over a fleece jacket to her chin as she walked over to examine the broken board.
The chill that ran through her had nothing to do with the cold. The farm’s financial situation must be much worse than her aunt and uncle had let on. Why hadn’t he or Marla said anything to her? She’d offered help over the years as her career took off, but they’d always turned her down. She touched the jagged end of the wood, and tears stung her eyes. Her uncle and father had always been so adamant about the appearance of the farm. She swallowed hard as she looked out over the field beyond, with its neat rows of trees. Those, at least, looked well cared for. The wind bit through her fleece jacket and she folded her arms tight over her chest as she walked back to the car.
The farm entrance came into sight up the road and she turned into the drive with a sense of trepidation. She drove past the low-slung barn that housed handmade wreaths and other decorations, relieved to note at least here the fencing here was in good shape and the area was trimmed festively. There were a half dozen cars parked in the lot and she knew inside the barn would be four or five people making wreaths, grave blankets and other decorations. No doubt her uncle was out in one of the fields somewhere, when he should be taking it easy. The road forked just past the barn, and since her aunt had requested she come to the house first, she continued up the driveway.
The house, a white-painted bungalow with green shutters, already sported lights and garlands and little wreaths hung from wide red ribbons in every window. Smoke curled from the chimney and a sense of relief, of rightness settled in Darcy’s bones. When she pictured home, this was exactly how she thought of it. She grabbed her purse and reached for the door handle.
But she couldn’t open the door. She’d been gone for so long, for reasons that seemed to pale in light of the farm’s plight. Even though she knew she’d done the right thing for both her and Mack, she couldn’t stop the wave of guilt that washed over her.
Marshaling her courage, she got out of the car, pulled her bags out of the trunk and trudged across the drive, the snow falling on her face and stinging her cheeks. The weight of her luggage was nothing compared to the weight of the baggage she carried within her. She knocked on the back door and waited. She could see the lights in the kitchen through the curtains, see the shadow of someone hurrying toward the door. Her aunt, of course.
Her breath caught as Marla opened the door, a smile wreathing her ageless face. “Darcy Jane! So nice to see you, honey.”
Darcy stepped through the door into her aunt’s embrace, letting her bags slide down to the floor. “Hi, Aunt Marla,” she said, breathing in her aunt’s familiar scent of Jean Nate. She squeezed her eyes shut against tears. Thank God some things didn’t change.
Her aunt gave her a squeeze and stepped back. “Let me look at you. My goodness, you don’t look any older! You’ve got your mama’s good genes. Come on in, let me shut the door.”
Darcy stepped all the way into the kitchen and rejoiced in the smell of pot roast. She never cooked like that for herself. “Mmm. Smells wonderful in here.”
Marla opened the oven and took a peek. “I try to have a hot meal for us after these long, cold days of getting ready for the opening. This roast is a bit of a splurge, since you’re here. Normally, we don’t eat red meat anymore. Trying to keep Joe on a better diet to help his heart.”
Darcy toed off her boots. “How is Uncle Joe?”
“He’s doing good. He needs to take it easy, which is very hard for him this time of year, but he restricts his working hours and we’ve got some wonderful employees who pick up any slack. Selling is going to be hard, but it’s the right thing to do. It’s time.”
Darcy hesitated. “I see it needs a little work,” she said softly.