Free A Gift to Last by Debbie Macomber

it reached a shrill, near-hysterical pitch.
    He wished things could be different, but he knew she’d start in on him, and then, despite his best efforts, he’d retaliate. Soon their exchange would escalate into a full-blown fight.
    His feet felt weighted as he crossed the station to the row of pay phones. He slipped his credit card through the appropriate slot, punched in his home number and waited for the line to connect.
    The phone rang twice, three times, then four before the answering machine came on. Bored, he tapped his foot while he listened to the message he’d recorded earlier in the year. When he heard the signal, he was ready. “Pam, it’s Matt. I’m sorry about this, but I got caught in the snowstorm that struck Maine yesterday. The flights out of Bangor were canceled, so the airline put me on a train for Boston. Now the train tracks are out and I don’t have a clue when I’ll be home. As soon as I reach Boston, probably sometime Christmas morning, I’ll phone and let you know when to expect me. I’m sorry about this, but it’s out of my control. Kiss the kids for me and I’ll see you as soon as I can.”
    The relief that came over him at not getting caught in a verbal battle with his wife was like an unexpected gift. This wasn’t how it should be, but he felt powerless to change the dynamics of their marriage. Somewhere along the road the partnership they’d once shared had fallen apart. He wasn’t the only one who felt miserable; he knew that. The look in Pam’s eyes as he’d walked through the house, suitcase in hand, had told him he wasn’t the only one thinking about a separation.
    His mood was oppressive by the time he returned to his seat.
    “What about Santa?” Matt heard Kate ask her mother.
    “Honey, he’s still coming to Grandma’s house.” Kate’s mother was busy making up a bed for her daughter. She placed a pillow at one end of the bench and arranged the blanket so the little girl could sleep between its folds.
    “But, Mom, I’m not at Grandma Gibson’s house—I’m here. Santa might not know.”
    Elise apparently needed a minute to think about that. “Grandma will have to tell him.”
    “But what if Santa decides to try to find me here, instead of leaving my presents with Grandma?”
    “Kate, please, can’t you just trust that you’re going to get your gifts?”
    Arms crossed, the child shook her head stubbornly. “No, I can’t,” she said, her voice as serious as the expression on her face. “You told me Daddy was going to come see me before we left and he didn’t.”
    “Honey, I don’t have any control over what your father says and does. I’m sorry he disappointed you.”
    Her look said it wasn’t the first time mother and child had been let down.
    Kate started to whimper.
    “Sweetheart, please,” Elise whispered. She seemed close to breaking down herself. She picked up her daughter and held her close. As she gently rocked the little girl, her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Santa won’t forget you.”
    “Daddy did.”
    “No, honey, I’m sure he didn’t, not really.”
    “Then why didn’t he come like he said?”
    “Because…” Elise began, then hesitated and forcefully expelled her breath. “It’s complicated.”
    “Everything’s complicated since you and Daddy divorced.”
    Matt felt like an eavesdropper, yet he couldn’t tune out the conversation between mother and child. Part of him yearned to let Kate use his credit card to phone her father, but if he suggested that, Elise would know he’d been listening in.
    Hearing Kate cry about being forgotten by her dad left Matt to wonder if this would be his own children’s future should he and Pam decide to split up. He didn’t want a divorce, never had. But it was obvious they couldn’t continue the way they’d been going—belittling each other, arguing, eroding the foundation of their love and commitment.
    “Why didn’t Daddy come see me like he said he would?” Kate