Kate James - A Child's Christmas

Dedication To my husband, Ken, who believed in my writing even before there was anything to believe in, for starting me down the path by giving me my first laptop to use solely for writing, for supporting me unfailingly when I was on the precipice of leaping from a rewarding business career into uncharted territory with my writing, and for being by my side every step of the way. Ken…I still choose you! To our friend Carl Compton. Carl…you know why. To my editor, the amazing Paula Eykelhof, for believing in me and taking me—a fledgling author—under her wing, for her generosity with her much-in-demand time, limitless knowledge and incredible expertise, and for already having taught me so much. And to Victoria Curran, for giving me the opportunity to write for Mills & Boon Heartwarming, and for appealing to my competitive nature to see if I can adopt as many dogs as she can cats!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

EPILOGUE

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CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS HER worst nightmare. Her son had less than a year to live, Paige Summerville thought incredulously, then defiantly rejected the very idea.

Standing outside the train terminal, she couldn’t help the short, bitter laugh that escaped her lips—then realized she’d let her guard down when she felt Jason tug on her hand.

Paige was immediately contrite and forced a bright smile onto her face. Seeing the worry in her little boy’s blue eyes, she bent down and lovingly brushed his ash-blond hair from his forehead.

Knowing the perfect distraction, she suggested, with a cheer she didn’t feel, “How about we go to McDonald’s for lunch?”

His eyes cleared, and a grin spread across his freckled face. “Can we, Mom?”

She zipped up his jacket to shield him from the biting November wind. “We most certainly can!”

After lunch, they walked along Camden Falls’ tree-lined Main Street, pausing whenever Jason wanted to examine a brightly colored leaf or greet a passing dog. He clutched her hand tightly as they made their way home, glancing up at her periodically with eyes strikingly similar to her own. Occasionally, she’d lean toward him and whisper something in his ear or simply touch his arm, his shoulder, the top of his head.

Paige couldn’t imagine her life without her little boy, but it was a possibility she might have to face.

Jason had a malignant brain tumor.

They’d taken the train that morning to see an oncologist at the Rosenthal Cancer Center in nearby Boston. If he was correct, this could be her son’s last year. Paige had to believe they could beat the disease, but she knew the odds were stacked against them. After all, this wasn’t their first battle with the devastating disease.

The day had taken its toll on Jason. By the time they reached their small ground-floor apartment, he could barely keep his eyes open. He yawned as Paige tucked him in for a nap. She sat beside him long after he fell asleep, not wanting to leave him, needing always and forever to protect him, wishing she could smooth the furrows between his brows—a constant sign that he was never fully free from pain.

Yet Jason had an indomitable spirit. He never complained. He was a warm and loving child. Intelligent, even-tempered, so easy to please. Paige was thankful for that, since she didn’t have the means to give him much. What Jason lacked in material things, she was determined to make up for with her love.

Hearing the tap on her front door reminded Paige that she was running late. She wouldn’t have time to change into something more businesslike for work. Fortunately, she was employed at a call center for a financial collection agency. Since her interactions with people were over the phone, it didn’t matter if she wore the jeans she had on, although she preferred not to. She took another moment to tuck the blanket more snugly around her little boy and place a kiss on his brow.

Opening the door, she welcomed her silver-haired neighbor. “Hello, Mrs. Bennett. How’s Mr. Bennett’s arthritis today?”

“He’s doing well. Thank you for asking.”

Paige was immensely grateful to Mrs. Bennett for her willingness to take care of Jason while Paige was at work. She felt guilty that Mrs. Bennett wouldn’t accept any payment, but it was also a relief that she didn’t have to stretch her limited funds.

Mrs. Bennett glanced around. “Is our little man in his room reading?”

Paige shook her head and opened the hall closet. “He’s sleeping. It was a hard day for him.”

As Paige put on her coat, Mrs. Bennett placed a hand lightly on her arm. Concern infused her voice and clouded her eyes as she asked, “How did it go at the hospital this morning?”

The simple question threatened Paige’s self-control. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply before responding in a shaky voice, “Not well.”

Mrs. Bennett tightened her grip on Paige’s arm. “What did the oncologist say?”

Paige shook her head. “I have to get to work. I can’t go into it now.”

Mrs. Bennett pulled Paige into a comforting hug. “Okay, dear. Go to work. When you come home, I’ll make us a nice pot of tea and we’ll talk.”

* * *

WHAT WAS IT about the holidays, Daniel Kinsley wondered as he returned to his desk, that seemed to bring out the worst in people?

He was glad he had some time to spare before his next appointment. His meeting with Gloria Farnsworth had put him in a miserable mood. He dropped heavily into his chair and swung it around to stare out the window. Across the street, a billboard displaying a Norman Rockwell–style scene seemed to mock him. It showed a cheerful, ruddy-faced Santa distributing brightly wrapped gifts to an elegantly dressed and ridiculously happy family. The husband clasped his wife’s hand affectionately, and the model-perfect woman stroked the blonde curls of a little girl in a red velvet dress. Daniel snorted. Did anyone really live like that? Not in his experience.

He thought of his own parents and their respectful, polite relationship. When was the last time he’d seen his parents touch? For that matter, his mother’s obligatory cheek kisses aside, he couldn’t recall his parents ever touching him with affection. They never argued. They never fought. But he also wasn’t sure they actually loved each other. A sad statement, especially after forty-three years of marriage.

It didn’t help his mood to remember that he’d agreed to spend more than a week with them in Newport over the holidays. He knew there’d be no Christmas cheer in that. At times he questioned why his parents stayed together. Then again, maybe they had it right. No love, no pain. Not wanting to dwell on it, he allowed his thoughts to come full circle to Gloria Farnsworth.