Alison Roberts - Single Dad In Her Stocking / A Puppy And A Christmas Proposal

‘If I’d ever thought about it, I would have said you’d be a consultant paediatrician by now.’

Emma tilted her head but didn’t say anything. She could have agreed with him and said that was exactly what she’d been planning on being but, if she told him that, she’d have to tell him why it hadn’t happened and she didn’t want to go there. It was easier to focus on what else he’d just said that implied he’d never given her another thought after the time they’d worked together.

It was inevitable that that took her mind back to their kiss. The one she’d never forgotten…

Max broke the silence. ‘I guess none of us know what twists and turns life has in store for us. We just know that they’re going to happen—usually at what seems to be the worst possible time.’

‘Mmm.’ Emma could certainly agree with that. For a long moment, they both sipped their drinks and the silence was companionable. She knew she might be taking a risk that could destroy this pleasant ambience but Emma was curious. There was so much about Max that she’d never known. Would never have guessed.

‘How old were you when your mum died, Max?’ she asked gently.

His glance was swift. Intense. ‘So Jenny did tell you? Or was it Maggie?’

‘They both told me a little. Not much. Maggie told me about your brother. Jenny said something about your mother.’

‘Something about the “Curse of the Cunninghams”, perhaps?’

Embarrassed, Emma dropped her gaze. She’d hate Max to think she’d been gossiping about his family.

‘It’s okay,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I know people like to talk and it’s no wonder it’s all resurfacing now. Here it is, Christmas again, and tragedy number three strikes the Cunningham family.’

‘That should be it, then.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Bad things are supposed to come in threes.’ Emma bit her lip. The tragedies that had befallen this family were nothing to make light of but all she wanted to do was offer…something. Comfort wasn’t possible but perhaps some hope? ‘Christmas will be different this year.’ She offered a smile this time. ‘I’m sure the tree will just be the first of all the rules that Ben knows about.’

Max snorted. ‘Christmas rules are just part of the commercial hype that’s all this season is all about. Reasons to make you spend more and more money.’

‘You think?’

‘I don’t imagine this is the first Christmas you’ve worked so you know about the effects of the kind of stress it creates. People drink too much. Domestic violence goes through the roof. It’s marketed as a promise for peace and love for everyone who bothers to follow all those “rules” but anyone who stands back far enough can see it for what it is.’

There was a defensiveness in his tone that made Emma think he was protesting too much. Because he’d had to—to protect himself? Because it was so much harder if you let yourself sink into what was missing from a celebration of family? She, of all people, could understand that.

‘I don’t believe that,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not saying it’s not a particularly difficult time for a lot of people but, if you’re lucky, it’s an opportunity to hit pause for a day. To celebrate the things that are really important—like family and friends. And, yes, we do that by buying stuff and eating special food but that’s okay too, because it’s all part of what makes it special. And they’re not “rules”. They’re traditions and every family makes their own. I expect Ben is holding onto the ones he knows about as tightly as he can because he’s lost just about everything else.’

Emma had to stop talking then, so that she could swallow the lump in her throat. She could feel Max’s gaze resting on her.

‘So…why aren’t you with your family, then? You do have one, don’t you?’

Emma nodded. ‘In Italy. We have quite different traditions there. Like the feast of the seven fishes on Christmas Eve—the Festa dei Sette Pesci . And there’s always a nativity scene in the house and someone gets chosen to put the baby Jesus in the crib on Christmas Eve.’ She let her breath out in a sigh. ‘I haven’t been back home for a few years, though.’

‘Why not?’

‘As a locum, it can be one of the busiest times of the year because so many people want time off to be with their families.’ Emma closed her eyes for a heartbeat, ignoring the faint alarm bell in her head. She had, albeit unintentionally, stepped into a private part of Max Cunningham’s life. It was only fair if he knew a little more about her, wasn’t it? ‘Plus, I had a pretty rough Christmas a few years back and I needed some time out. Especially from my family, who would have insisted on talking about it endlessly.’

‘What happened?’

‘Um…well, it started a bit before Christmas, I guess, when the guy I thought I was going to marry walked out on me. But then…someone special died…’

‘At Christmas time?’

‘On Christmas Day.’ Emma gulped in some air. ‘I knew it was coming but that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier at the time, you know?’

‘Oh, yeah…’ Max’s tone was heartfelt. ‘I know.’ It was his turn to take a deeper breath. ‘I didn’t answer your question before. I was eleven when my mum died. My brother Andy was only eight. Not much older than Ben.’

‘Oh, Max… I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard for you all.’

‘I think we were too shocked to think about Christmas that year. It was the next one that was the hardest. Andy wanted it to be like it had been, but it was too hard on Dad. I found him crying and that shocked me so much. I had no idea what to do.’

‘Of course you didn’t. You were a child.’

‘I’m not proud of what I did do.’

Emma watched the way Max’s face creased into lines of regret. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’

‘I told Andy that Father Christmas wasn’t real. That it had been Mum who’d put all the decorations up and all those presents under the tree and in our stockings and that, now she wasn’t here, it couldn’t happen any more because it would make Dad too sad.’

Oh… Emma could just imagine the serious conversation between two small boys. A fragmented family trying to find a way to be together without it causing too much pain for anyone. It was heartbreaking.

‘So it didn’t happen that year. Or the next. And then we just got used to it. We’d give each other a gift but we never put up a Christmas tree again or did any of the other decorations that Mum used to love—like winding long ropes of artificial leafy stuff like ivy and holly with its red berries between the bannisters on the staircase and hanging little bunches of golden bells on every door so that they jingled whenever they were opened and closed. Andy started doing it all again once he had children of his own, mind you.’ Max drained his glass. ‘Me, I just got more cynical about it all but then, it only really matters for the kids, doesn’t it?’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ Emma said slowly. ‘But it’s certainly a very special time of the year for children. Exciting…and magical, until you know the truth about Father Christmas.’

Max grimaced. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to burst the bubble for Ben or Tilly. They’ve got more than enough of real life to get their heads around at the moment.’

‘But…’ Again, Emma bit her lip. This really wasn’t any of her business.

‘But, what?’

‘It’s just that…well…putting up a Christmas tree is only a part of it. And it’s only a decoration if you don’t really believe…’

‘In Father Christmas?’

Emma shook her head. ‘No. In family. In celebrating the bond. Or, in your case this year, perhaps it’s about creating a bond. The new one that’s going to be the foundation for Ben and Tilly and Alice to feel like they belong.’