Sarah Morgan - The Christmas Sisters - The Sunday Times top ten feel-good and romantic bestseller!

“I haven’t had that dream in over a year.” Her forehead was damp with sweat and her nightdress clung to her. She took the glass of water that Stewart offered.

Her throat was parched and the water soothed and cooled, but her hand was shaking so much she sloshed some of it over the duvet. “How can a person still have nightmares after twenty-five years?” She wanted to forget, but her body wouldn’t let her.

Stewart took the glass from her and put it on the nightstand. Then he took her in his arms. “It’s almost Christmas, and this is always a stressful time of year.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, comforted by human warmth. Not snow and ice, but flesh and blood.

Alive.

“I love this time of year because the girls are home.” She slid her arm round his waist, wishing she could stop shaking. “Last year I didn’t have the dream once.”

“It was probably that call from Hannah that triggered it.”

“It was a good phone call. She’s coming home for the holidays. That’s the best news. Not something to trigger a nightmare.” But enough to trigger thoughts and memories.

She suspected poor Hannah would be having her own thoughts and memories.

Stewart was right that this time of year was never easy.

“It’s been a couple of years since Hannah, Beth and Posy were here together.”

“And I’m excited.” Anticipation lifted her mood. “It will be all the more special because Hannah couldn’t make it last year.”

“Which increases the expectation.” Stewart sounded tired. “Don’t put pressure on her, Suzanne. It’s tough on her, and you end up hurt.”

“I won’t be hurt.” They both knew it was a lie. Every time Hannah distanced herself from her family, it hurt. “I want her to be happy, that’s all.”

“The only person who can make Hannah happy is Hannah.”

“That doesn’t stop me wanting to help. I’m her mother.” She caught his eye. “I am her mother.”

“I know. And if you want my opinion, she’s damn lucky to have you.”

Lucky? There had been nothing lucky about the girls’ early life. At the beginning Suzanne had been terrified that Hannah’s life would be ruined by the events of her childhood, but then she’d realized she had a responsibility not to let that happen.

She’d done everything she could to compensate and influence the future. She wanted nothing but good for her daughters and the burden of it was huge. It weighed her down, and there were days when it almost crushed her. And she’d made him carry the burden, too.

Survivor’s guilt.

“I worry I haven’t done enough. Or that I haven’t done it right.”

“I’m sure every parent thinks that from time to time.”

Suzanne slid her legs out of bed, relieved to be able to stand up. Walk. Breathe. Watch the sun rise. She rolled her shoulders and discovered they ached. She’d turned fifty-eight the summer before and right now she felt every one of those years. Was the pain real or a memory? “The dream was bad. I was back there.”

Suffocating in an airless, snowy tomb.

Stewart stood up, too. “It will fade.” He reached for his robe. “I’m not going to ask if you want to talk about it, because you never do.”

And this time was no different.

She couldn’t stop the nightmares, but she could prevent the darkness from creeping into her waking hours. It was her way of taking back control. “You should go back to sleep.”

“We both know there’s no going back to sleep after you have one of your dreams. And we have to be up in an hour anyway.” His hair was standing on end and his eyes were rimmed with fatigue. “We have a group of twenty arriving at the Adventure Centre this morning. It’s going to be busy. I might as well make an early start.”

“Are they experienced?”

“No. School party on an outdoor adventure week.”

Anxiety washed over her. Her instinct was to beg him not to go, but that would have meant giving in to fear. It also would have meant asking Stewart to give up doing something he loved and she wouldn’t do that. “Be careful.”

“I always am.” Stewart kissed her and walked to the door. “Coffee?”

“Please.” The thought of staying in bed held no appeal. “I’ll take a quick shower and then start planning.”

“Planning what?”

“Only a man would ask that. You think Christmas happens by itself?” She belted her robe, knowing from experience that activity was the best way to drive the shadows from her head. “It’s only a few weeks away. I want to do all the preparation beforehand so I can spend as much time as possible with our grandchildren. I thought I’d buy a few extra games in case the weather is bad. I don’t want them to be bored. They have so much to do in Manhattan.”

“If they’re bored, they can help with the animals. They can feed the chickens with Posy, or round up the sheep. They can ride Socks.”

Socks was Posy’s pony. Now eighteen, he was enjoying a well-earned, hay-filled retirement in the fields that surrounded the lodge.

“Beth gets nervous when they ride.”

Stewart shook his head. “A lot of things make Beth nervous. She is overprotective, we both know that. Kids don’t break that easily.”

“As if you weren’t the most protective father ever. Particularly with her.”

He gave a sheepish grin. “Posy was like a little ball. She bounced. Beth was a delicate little thing.”

“She’s always been a daddy’s girl. And if she is an overprotective mother, then we both know why.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t understand, but you’ve got to let kids have some fun. Explore. Make mistakes. Live life.”

“Easier said than done.” Suzanne knew she was overprotective, too. “I’ll talk to Beth. Try to persuade her to let the girls ride. And if the weather is bad, they can help in the kitchen. We can do some baking.”

“Here’s a radical idea…” Stewart picked up his empty whiskey glass from the night before. “Instead of planning everything and driving yourself crazy with stress, why don’t you keep it relaxed this year? Stop trying so hard.”

Suzanne’s mouth dropped open. “You think food magically appears? You think Santa really does deliver gifts already wrapped?”

But the comment was so typical of him, it made her laugh. To an outsider they probably seemed ridiculously traditional, but her life was exactly the way she wanted it to be.

“I’ll have you know that the key to relaxation is planning. I want it to be special.” The fact that it was the only time the three girls were together increased the pressure for it to be perfect. She walked to the window, pulled back the curtains and leaned her forehead against the cool glass. From the window of her bedroom she had a view right down the glen. The snow was luminous, reflecting the muted glow of the moon and sending flickers of light across the still surface of the loch. Framing the loch was snow-dusted forest and behind that the mountains rose, dominating everything with their deadly beauty.

Even knowing the danger waiting in those snowy peaks, she was still drawn to them. She could never live anywhere that didn’t have mountains, but she no longer did any winter climbing. She and Stewart took low-level hikes in the winter, and longer, more ambitious hikes in the spring and summer when the weather warmed and the snow receded.

“Was it selfish of us to move here? Should we have lived in a city?”

“No. And you need to stop thinking like that.” His voice was rough. “It’s the dream. You know it’s the dream.”

She did know. She loved living here, in this land of mist and mountains, of lochs and legend.

“I worry about Hannah.” She turned. “About what being here does to her.”