Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Mommy

Eliza perked up a bit. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

They were nearly to the lodge and happily slurping down shakes when Eliza resurrected the topic of Brenna’s mom. “You’re really not mad at her?”

“Why should I be? Letting anger fester hurts me more than it hurts her, wherever she is.”

“I guess. Did you know she was going to leave? Was it out of the blue, or did she sort of slowly slip out of your life before going for good?”

Brenna’s gaze flitted to her young passenger. “How do you mean?”

“Like ignoring you. Not calling when she was supposed to. Guess that didn’t matter, since you lived with her.” Eliza’s gaze slid to the hands clasped tightly in her lap. “My mom got a divorce because Dad wasn’t really paying attention to anything but work. You’d think he would have apologized, sent flowers.”

Maybe, but relationships were complicated and there had probably been other factors at play. Brenna kept the thought to herself, not wanting to discourage Eliza from safely venting.

“But it didn’t help much. Even if he showed up, half the time he’d get an emergency page.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Does it make me selfish that sometimes I didn’t care who he was off saving, that I just wanted him to be with me?”

“I don’t think so. You’re completely entitled to want your dad’s love, and his time. But, honey, your father is nothing like my mom. She was…unwell. He isn’t going anywhere. He’s crazy about you three. Don’t you think this trip is proof of that?”

Eliza eyed her skeptically, then shrugged. “He’s been my dad for nearly thirteen years. This trip is twenty days.”

BY THE TIME they reached the lodge, Eliza was barely smothering her yawns. She shuffled toward the Varners’ suite with the appearance of someone who was sleepwalking. Adam must have been listening for them, because he opened the door just as Brenna started to knock.

Brenna handed the girl the bag of feminine supplies they’d purchased, including some neon-bright fingernail polish and a fashion magazine for young women.

“Thank you,” Eliza said. “And, Dad? Sorry I was a pita today.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Pita?”

“You know, PITA? Pain in the…Anyway, I’ll try to do better.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Go rest up for our white-water rafting adventure tomorrow afternoon. That is, if you think you’re up to it?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Despite her fatigue, the genuine anticipation in her voice was unmistakable.

“Well, just let me know if you change your mind. I’m flexible.”

With Eliza preparing for bed and Morgan and Geoff engrossed in a rented movie, Adam was free to walk Brenna back downstairs. He seemed in no hurry to get rid of her, though.

Nodding toward the two-person swing on the veranda, he said, “Sit with me for a few minutes? Or do you need to rush back out and do more pet visits?”

“I have four more tonight, but they can wait another twenty minutes.” She’d gotten up so early that morning, before the sun, that when she’d returned home this afternoon, it had been with optimistic plans of catching a catnap. Now she didn’t have time for that.

Besides, being alone with Adam rejuvenated her. She experienced something like adrenaline, but warmer and less jittery. She was alert, her senses heightened by his nearness.

The swing jostled under their combined weight, and Brenna let herself sway toward him. Until meeting Adam, she hadn’t realized how deficient of touch her life had become. Her animals considered a pat on the head or a belly rub a crucial part of the day, but except for occasionally shaking hands with a new client or maybe hugging someone at Sunday family dinners, it had been too long since Brenna had been this close to another human.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I don’t know what we would have done today if you hadn’t come along.”

“Oh, you would have muddled through. It would have been awkward, possibly hostile on her part, and you would have made a silent pact never to speak of it again…but you would have handled it.”

“Is she okay?” he asked.

Brenna nodded. “I helped her select some over-the-counter pain medicine. She said she didn’t have any weird allergies that she knew of and wasn’t currently taking anything. I gave her a crash course on her best options if she wants to go rafting tomorrow. I also…talked to her some in the car. Not just about this.”

He straightened, looking not only curious but nearly reverent, as if Brenna were about to hand him the Holy Grail of Understanding Your Adolescent Daughter. “Yeah?”

“She’s ticked off at you,” Brenna said bluntly. “But more than that, she’s scared you won’t be around for her.”

He clenched a fist against his thigh. “I suppose I deserve that. Sara and I were practically kids ourselves, newly married when we got pregnant with Geoff. She did such a beautiful job handling motherhood while I finished up med school. I don’t mean to make excuses, but the hours for an intern are hellish. Once you make resident, they upgrade you to merely purgatorial.”

“Adam. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

“I know. I just…Do you mind my telling you about this?”

“No, I like hearing about you. Even the imperfect parts,” she assured him.

“I specialize in those,” he drawled, looking angry with himself. “I didn’t mean to take Sara for granted or dump everything on her. I think it truly didn’t dawn on me that she needed help. She had the kids organized and scheduled, knew just where she wanted everything and who liked what favorite bear or blanket. When things got bad enough that she complained, I really did try to pitch in. And I ended up feeling as if I were just in the way, like an intruder in my own family.”

Brenna had some experience with feeling like the outsider, a jarring angle in the family circle.

“I know I’ve screwed up,” he said. “But I didn’t realize I’d screwed up so badly that my own daughter is afraid I won’t be there.”

“Well-” she caught her bottom lip between her teeth “-I may not have helped. I was trying to relate, told her a bit about my own childhood.”

Adam tilted back to better see her expression. “Problems with your dad?”

“My mom.” Her voice was barely audible. I never talk about this. For good reason. People threw around words like healing and closure. Closure? That was a laugh-the woman was God knows where on the globe. Assuming she was even still alive and well.

Brenna swallowed hard. “My mom brought me to Mistletoe when I was around Eliza’s age. She met Fred Pierce, Josh’s father. His own divorce hadn’t been final all that long, and I think they rebounded into each other.”

“Had your parents been divorced long?” Adam asked quietly.

“I never knew my dad. She left him when she was pregnant with me.” Leaving people, her great legacy. “I think…I don’t know, but I think she was sick. For months she’d seem okay. There would even be days where she was better than okay. Waking me up in the middle of the night and asking me if I wanted to go on an ‘adventure’ with her. One time when we lived in Kentucky, it was to go out in the first snowfall of the season. We found a twenty-four-hour store and bought chocolate bars. It was midnight, and I was gorging on chocolate and having a snowball fight with my mom.”

Brenna stopped, her throat tight. For some reason, it hurt more to remember candy bars in the snow-had she ever told anyone about that?-than it did to recall being abandoned.

“At times like that, I thought she was the best mother in the world. I was awed by her. But then there were her short-tempered moments. A lot less fun,” she said sardonically. “And long periods of time where she was quiet. I don’t remember seeing her cry, but she was just so damn palpably unhappy. I used to wonder if it was somehow my fault. Then she’d announce she was getting a new job or that we were going to move to a new apartment, instead of renewing our lease. The change of scenery usually helped. When Fred met her, she was having one of her better times. She seemed stable for a while.” Brenna had dared to hope that Mistletoe was some kind of magic place. It had certainly seemed that way through a child’s eyes.