Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Baby

“David!” She laughed as she said it, a good sign.

“I’ve missed your laugh,” he told her, knowing he was probably pushing his luck but unable to stop himself. “I’ve missed seeing you happy.”

“I’ve missed being happy.”

He sat forward. “And you think you will be without me?”

“I don’t know. I know I wasn’t happy with who I became with you. That’s not blame,” she added quickly. “Not anymore. I was going through a lot and somehow ended up feeling like a second-class citizen. And logical or not, the resentment I was stifling turned me into someone petulant. Someone I don’t recognize and don’t want to become.”

“I want to apologize,” he said slowly, determined not to repeat this morning when they’d each said whatever popped into their minds and left each other with fresh scars. “But it feels disingenuous when I’m confused about what I’m supposed to be sorry for. A second-class citizen? That’s…”

“What, ridiculous?”

Yes. “Everyone in Mistletoe knows how much I love you,” he insisted. “I went out of my way to do things for you.”

She ran a hand through her hair. “I know. And yet you just proved my point. I tried to share something difficult and personal, something I’m not proud of, and your response, no matter how polite, was to tell me why I was wrong.”

“That’s not what I was doing! You-” He broke off, catching himself that time. “Hmm.”

She laughed, taking pity on him. “If you’re serious about taking care of the animals, follow me. I’ll show you where the rabbit is, and we’ll see if we can convince Arpeggio to come out from under whatever bed she’s chosen this time. Winnie said that the cat is still sulking about the puppy and has been fairly antisocial lately.”

With the dogs outside, they were able to coax Arpeggio out from under the guest room bed. The tri-color cat hobbled out, its gaze curious but its ears twitching back with suspicion as it approached David. He waited patiently, stretching his hand out and sitting perfectly still until the cat rubbed up against his fingers. Then he began scratching her back in earnest, and the calico started purring.

“See?” David said softly. “I’m not so bad.”

Rachel sat on the carpet next to him. “I can’t believe I don’t know the answer to this, but did you have pets growing up?”

“A few hamsters with short life spans,” he said. “Arianne had one of those beta fish. Dad’s allergic to cats and Mom’s allergic to dogs. They had a poodle when they were first married, but I don’t really remember her. What about you?”

“My mom was dead set against pets and I never really thought much about it. But Hildie’s been growing on me, despite my occasionally wanting to throttle her. Maybe I’ll get a dog,” Rachel mused.

Maybe I’ll get a dog. Ouch. It should have been something they’d done together. Why had he never considered during those long, frustrated months when she had so much love to give but no baby to lavish it upon, that she might appreciate a fuzzy friend who cuddled by her side when she was blue? Instead of just telling her to cheer up or have hope, he could have surprised her with a pet rescued from the local animal shelter. He’d asked himself-and her-what more he could have done, but maybe that was a cop-out. In retrospect, there was probably more he could have tried. Had he truly worked at staying emotionally connected with his wife or had he assumed, because of their vows, that she’d always be there?

Till death do us part. A lofty goal, but had he really worked toward it the way he did other aspirations? He’d once coached four-year-olds in the community soccer program, and they were hysterical to watch. They understood the basics, that the ball was supposed to go into the goal, but some of them seemed to think those events would just unfold, as they milled around on the field, not really making the connection between what they wanted to achieve and their own part in making it happen.

Maybe Tanner would be a better husband than David had been. He’d lost Lilah once. Having to win her back helped ensure that he appreciated her worth, knew how miserable he’d been without her.

David’s experience might be coming later in life, but he liked to think he was a quick study. “Hey, I talked to Tanner earlier. He wanted to ask us a favor.”

“Does he need something for the wedding?”

“Actually, no, he wanted to recruit us for some Christmas shopping.”

“You mean he’s looking for help finding Lilah a present?”

“He wanted to know if we’d go with them out of town this weekend for a holiday shopping spree.”

The doorbell gonged, startling them both.

“That’ll be the pizza.” David stood, reaching for the wallet in his jeans pocket. “Is it okay that I took care of dinner plans?”

“In theory, it was high-handed.” She smiled up at him. “In practice, I am a pregnant woman who didn’t entirely realize how hungry she was or how tired she was getting until about ten minutes ago. And here you are, summoning food as if by magic. So you’re forgiven. This once.”

He grinned over his shoulder as he walked down the stairs. “It’s a start.”

Rachel drove to the print shop the next morning feeling surprisingly rejuvenated. She’d dropped off to sleep as soon as David had left, and their dinner together had been…enjoyable. Almost relaxed, as if, with the strain of holding their marriage together lifted, they could just be themselves. In some ways, having the worst happen could be liberating. They’d agreed that he should take over the pet-sitting, but she’d been too tired to switch places with him last night.

Tonight she’d go home. She still had mixed feelings about that, but she’d cope. She was already dealing with separating from David, the-happy-shock of being pregnant and compiling a mental list of the decisions she’d need to start making for herself and the baby. None of it was easy, but it wasn’t impossible, either.

“Morning, May,” she called when she walked into work.

Her boss waved her own hello over a mug of coffee. “Miss Popularity! You’ve already had two phone calls this morning.”

“You’re kidding. Who from?”

“Both from Gina Oster, at the chamber of commerce. Belle showed her some of the recommendations you made for future Christmas brochures, and they want to talk to you about some projects for the spring.” May grinned. “You’re not thinking of leaving me for greener pastures, are you?”

“Don’t worry. I doubt a chamber the size of ours can afford much green,” Rachel said realistically. “But I can talk to them about some cheap independent contracting on the side.” She found herself really eager to return Gina’s call. While Rachel didn’t see the chamber as being a career move for her, it was exciting to think about ways she could use her talents to give back to the town. Mistletoe had given her so much.

“Well, Gina’s in meetings until this afternoon. That’s why she was trying to reach you so early, but if you can help them get organized, I think it’s a wonderful idea. You’ve been such an asset to me.”

Rachel was touched by the warm sincerity in the woman’s voice. “Thank you.”

She’d spent so much time lately feeling under-utilized in her current career that she’d lost sight of how lucky she was. She worked for a nice person she genuinely liked, she didn’t have to wear panty hose and she wasn’t bogged down in meetings and corporate bureaucracy. And on particularly busy days, she helped balance a workload no person could manage alone.

It shaped up to be one of those days. They printed a last-minute batch of flyers for the Winter Wonderland dance that would go up all over town, farmed out a rush order for some customized baseball caps, then printed and bound a series of booklets for an upcoming business retreat. She thought about the hiking vacation she’d taken here, the lodge that was just outside town and more rustic than the popular Mistletoe Inn. The chamber of commerce should do more to play up their appeal as a place to “come get away from it all…without having to go too far” for businessmen and even vacationing tourists.

Mistletoe, a great place to bring the family. A great place to raise a family.

“Well, you’re in a good mood.”

She jumped about a foot, then turned to see David. Nonemployees weren’t allowed behind the counter where all the equipment was kept, but May would have made an exception to wave him back. “I thought I was alone. Just me and the forty booklets I promised to assemble by lunch.”

David shoved his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t mean to startle you. In fact, I would have been happy just to stand here and watch.”

“Watch me collate booklets? Make sure you stick around for the exciting encore of watching paint dry in the storeroom.”

He laughed. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re way more interesting than paint.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“You had a graceful rhythm going, complete with intermittent musical accompaniment. What were you whistling?” he asked.

“I was whistling? I was just…thinking about family.”

His gaze went instantly to her tummy then came back up to meet hers. “Excited about junior?”

“Giddy,” she agreed. “But not just about that. I was sort of counting my blessings.”

It wasn’t until he looked away that she saw how hurtful her words might be. Was it unseemly to seem so cheerfully content in front of the husband you’d recently left? She was content, though. For the first time in a long time, she was starting to believe that she’d be all right no matter what. That she could survive disappointments and missteps and pick herself up afterward. It was an empowering realization.

“Well,” he said quickly. “I just came by to get Winnie’s key.”

“Right.” Her duffel bags were packed and in the trunk of her car. She’d still feel better if she could talk with Winnie about it first, but shore-to-ship communications were spotty at best. She went to her purse and grabbed the bone-shaped key ring. “Here you go. If the dogs give you any trouble or you can’t find Arpeggio-”