Free Holiday Wishes by Nora Roberts

“Something’s wrong.”
    “No.” She had to control herself. She’d managed everything for so long. “You overwhelmed me.” With a smile she touched his face. “It’s happened before. Come on, let’s eat.”
    Because she seemed to need to keep her thoughts to herself, he let it go and followed her into the kitchen where Clara was already peeking into the cardboard box. He’d never seen a child plow through food with such unrestrained glee. He’d never known Christmas Eve could be special simply because there was someone beside him.
    Clara swallowed the last of her second piece. “Maybe if I opened one present tonight there’d be less confusion in the morning.”
    Faith seemed to consider. “I like confusion,” she decided, and Jason realized the conversation was an old tradition.
    “Maybe if I opened just one present tonight, I could get right to sleep. Then you wouldn’t have to wait so long to creep around and fill the stockings.”
    “Hmm.” Faith pushed aside her empty plate and enjoyed the wine Jason had brought. “I like creeping around late at night.”
    “If I opened—”
    “Not a chance.”
    “If I—”
    “Nope.”
    “But Christmas is just hours and hours away.”
    “Awful, isn’t it?” Faith smiled at her. “And you’re going caroling in ten minutes, so you’d better get your coat.”
    Clara walked over to tug on her boots. “Maybe when I get back, there’ll be just one present that you’ll figure isn’t really important enough to wait until morning.”
    “All the presents under the tree are absolutely vital.” Faith rose to help her on with her coat. “And so are the following instructions. Stay with the group. Keep your mittens on; I want you to keep all your fingers. Don’t lose your hat. Remember that Mr. and Mrs. Easterday are in charge.”
    “Mom.” Clara shifted her feet and sighed. “You treat me like a baby.”
    “You are my baby.” Faith gave her a smacking kiss. “So there.”
    “Jeez, I’ll be ten years old in February. That’s practically tomorrow.”
    “And you’ll still be my baby in February. Have a good time.”
    Clara sighed, long-suffering and misunderstood. “Okay.”
    “Okay,” Faith mimicked. “Say good night.”
    Clara peeked around her mother. “Are you going to stay until I get back?”
    “Yeah.”
    Satisfied, she grinned and pulled open the door. “Bye.”
    “Monster,” Faith declared and began to stack plates.
    “She’s terrific.” Standing, Jason helped clear the clutter. “Little for her age, I guess. I didn’t realize she was almost ten. It’s hard to—” He stopped as Faith clattered dishes in the sink. “She’ll be ten in February.”
    “Umm. I can’t believe it myself. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and then again . . .” She trailed off, abruptly breathless. With studied care, she began to fill the sink with soapy water. “I’ll just be a minute here if you’d like to take your wine into the living room.”
    “In February.” Jason took her arm. When he turned her, he saw the blood drain from her face. His fingers tightened, bruising without either of them noticing. “Ten years in February. We made love that June. God, I don’t know how many times that night. I never touched you again, we never had the chance to be alone like that again before I left, just a few weeks later. You must have married Tom in September.”
    Her throat was bone dry. She couldn’t even swallow, but stared at him.
    “She’s mine,” he whispered, and it vibrated through the room. “Clara’s mine.”
    She opened her mouth to speak, but there seemed to be nothing she could say. Lips trembling, eyes drenched, she nodded.
    “God!” He had her by both arms, nearly lifting her off her feet before he backed her into the counter. The fury in his eyes would have made her cringe if she hadn’t been willing to accept it. “How could you? Damn you. She’s ours and you never told me. You married another man and had our baby.