Mistletoe & Kisses (40 page)

Chapter Ten

SUNDAY

It’s been almost two months since I started going to the cancer ward.  I’ve met the most remarkable human beings in the world.  After I put my conviction behind it that day in the bathroom, I got to know the nurses and doctors.  I got to know the parents and patients.  I got to know me, too, along the way.

We’ve lost kids—beautiful, smart, tired little souls who never reached adulthood.  We’ve seen the miracle that is remission, and held parties in the great room for the kids who have a chance to grow their hair back.  And we’ve made them smile.  Every single one.

Now it’s Christmas, and I make Batty dress as Santa —under duress— in the dead of night to bring in the presents that Jayden picked out.

“I don’t know why you had to wrap all of them by hand.  We could have had someone at the toy store do all of this shit,” Batty Santa grumbles under his beard.  Is it weird that I want to fuck him in that suit?  Maybe it’s weird. 

That hasn’t stopped.  The night of our first fight —of which there have been many— and the sex against my car, I fully expected him to just go home, and I froze outside of those elevators.  He obviously knew I had a car.  He knew I didn’t need a ride.  Was that our code now?  Halfway to his car, he turned, his cape catching wind and flaring out behind him.  “You coming?”  And yes, yes I did.  Every fucking Sunday.  That’s what I called them now.  Fucking Sundays.  Best day of the week.

“They have to be hand wrapped.  These presents were selected, not picked out by some worker bee.  Jayden wanted them to have them, so I wrapped every fucking one, and don’t you look at me like that, Batty Santa.”

He scoffs and licks his lips.  The ones I can barely see behind all of the white, but I know that tongue.  “It’s those striped tights.  Are they thigh highs or do I need to rip something later?”

Stupid Moorehead and their elf costumes.  I was still against being on their logos, but the sparkle in Batty Santa’s eyes were promising me more than candy canes and popcorn at the end of the work day.  And I was so down with that.

“Set this shit up,” I order him, knowing he’ll only do it if he wants to.

We make several trips back and forth to the van I had to rent to get everything here.  When a kid peeks out of their room and spots us, I run to their side to hand them small packages.  Most of the kids are on chemo, and I’ve learned that, like Rachel, they can’t eat anything solid for periods of time. Their mouths and stomachs hurt so bad they have to be on morphine.

No candy for this lot, but the presents look to be overtaking the room.  The nurses and doctors come out to chat as we wait for the kids to wake up.  Parents add their presents under the tree or take them straight to the rooms.  I make sure the caterers bring in the food to the break room through the back entrance so the kids can’t see the things they can’t have.

“Stop it.”

I look to Batty Santa and quickly sit on his knee to keep from fidgeting.  “When will these kids wake up?  It’s already seven.”

“You’re cute when you’re excited,” he says with a smile.

I smirk.  “You should know.”

“Mmm.  It’s going to be a long day.  Don’t start.”  He squeezes my waist, then belies his words. “What do you want for Christmas, little girl?”

I bat my lashes and say in a breathy voice, “Well, Batty Santa . . .”

“Don’t call me that.  It sounds like Daddy Santa.”

I lower my chin and snap his white beard.  “Do you want to be Daddy Santa?”

He rolls his eyes under his hat.  “I’m thirty-one.  Not old enough to be your daddy, you kinky little shit.”

I gasp and cover my mouth.  “You’re so old.”  I pat his padded chest.  “But don’t worry, your balls aren’t very wrinkly yet.”

“Stop talking.”

“But it’s Christmas, Batty Santa!”

“Shut your face before I put them in your mouth.”

“Promises, promises,” I say, movement catching my eye before I finish the sentence.  It’s Chloe.  I burst off of Batty Santa’s lap.  “Merry Christmas!”

* * *

When all of the kids trickle in over the morning, we find their presents and are rewarded with smiles and rosy cheeks.  There are several that aren’t marked for the kids that are yet to come in, but all say from Santa and Jayden.  Sweet Jayden passed just days before the holiday, but had been back several times on the Sundays we visited before that.  He never stopped talking about his takedown at the toy store, always with a smile on his face.  He, more than anything kept me coming back, even after he was gone.  Our night together in the toy store gave him one moment to relive when he was too weak to get out of bed. 

There were more escapades, more shenanigans—that I pulled off by the skin of my teeth—more memories for these who wouldn’t get to make them without us.

I crawl around to make sure we got all of the kids who were present, when I find one addressed to me.  I triple check it but it still says Sadie/Robin.  Can’t mistake that.  I look around to the few who are still in the room and find Batty Santa’s eyes on me with a little smile on his face.

I stand up and walk to him, holding up the present.  “Did you do this?”  He shrugs.

When was the last time I got a Christmas present?  I remember it exactly.  My Gran gave me a tea set.

I open the paper delicately. With the precise folds, I expect that if he did do this, he had someone else wrap it.

I place the paper on the floor and stare at the brown box.  Batty Santa raises his eyebrows when I look up at him again.  Pulling the tape, I see bubble wrap inside.  It’s several somethings.  I unwrap one in my hand and almost drop it.  I gasp, tears flood my eyes.  One perfect hand painted china cup rests in my hands.  My hands shake, frozen, but my eyes move to the wrapping again.  The sticker reads To: Sadie/Robin From: Batty and Rachel.

* * *

There was a wardrobe change into our regular Sunday costumes in the back of the van.  I’m sure that van was rocking for some time, but luckily for us, we park on the third floor.

We meet outside of the bathrooms silently moving to where we’re expected to be.  We exclaim and play with the new toys for hours when I feel vibrating from my phone in my back pocket.  I excuse myself from a makeshift maternity ward we made for the new dolls, laughing as I pull my phone out.  It quickly disappears.

Unknown Caller:  Time’s up.  Brennick Record, tomorrow 10 sharp.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Brandace Morrow is a full time mom of four, and currently stationed overseas with her sexy soldier. Her recent obsessions are Maroon 5, Luke Bryan, The Pretty Reckless, rum and coke, and reading in no particular order. Despite being terribly awkward with social media, she's everywhere. Frequently subjecting the public to pictures of her minion's messes, and everything that is Momdom in the Morrow house.

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Wrap Me in Your Love

Lisa Survillas

Dedication:

For everyone who ever felt like they’d settled in life. 

May you have the courage to seek out

The spot you deserve.

“
The biggest human temptation is to settle for too little.
”

~
Thomas Merton

Chapter One

AS ISABELLA LOOKS over the water for what may be the last time ever, her heart is filled with mixed emotions.  She knows this is for the best, but it doesn’t make it any easier.  This is the place she always dreamed of making her home.  She was ecstatic to move to California, ready for life to become this wonderful fairytale.  How did it go so wrong?

With a deep breath, she stands up and brushes the sand off of herself. When she sees something shiny just out of reach, she slowly walks over and reaches down to pick it up.  Her interest is piqued when she realizes it’s a thin metal box, almost like a business-card holder, but sealed. She holds it up to her ear and shakes it.  When she hears something, she closes her eyes and wonders what it might be.  Without any way of opening it, she just puts it in her bag and heads to the car.  When she hits the sand’s edge, she digs her feet in one last time. 

With a heavy heart and tears running down her face, she heads to her car.  She’s come to love this town so much, but she’ll never get the chance to move on if she stays.  Packing her car full of the things that matter most to her, saying goodbye to the beautiful Southern California coastline, and heading east is the hardest thing she’s ever done.  But starting over in a new town, where she doesn’t know a soul, is just what she needs.  It’s time.

Pulling her car out of the beach lot and paying the toll even tears at her heart a little.  She appreciates the beauty of the coast so much more now that she’ll never get to see it again.  While watching the coast disappear in her rearview mirror, tears still running down her face, she drives away, leaving everything she ever thought her life would be, behind. 

Miles of road and hours of music are starting to make her drowsy.  She knew it’d be this way, but she couldn’t think of another option.  If she flew, she’d have no car, no belongings, and nowhere to turn.  Finally, after what seems like forever, she spots a place to pull off with a gas station and little diner.  Fortunately, the parking lot is virtually empty. 

She gasses up the car, and decides to hit the diner for something different to eat.   Inside, it’s just as lonely looking as outside.  The waitress isn’t friendly and the food isn’t anything to write home about, so she finishes quickly and gets back on the road. 

The lull of driving makes this trip even more difficult, and the vibration of the road threatens to put her to sleep.  After ten hours, she makes it to Park City, Utah.  Driving up to what looks like the least-expensive hotel she’s seen so far, kills her.  She’s never stayed in anything but a five-star hotel.  Eric wouldn’t hear of it.  He would say that he worked hard to get to the top, so he deserved the best.  Obviously, she wasn’t the best.

Next to leaving Eric, checking into the hotel by herself is probably the hardest thing she’s done.   Unsure of what to say to the lady behind the check-in counter, she stumbles over her own words.  “I need to check a room tonight.” 
Shit
. “Sorry.  I need to get a room for tonight.” 

When the lady behind the counter smiles, her nerves ease a little.  The silence she’s met with, however, causes a special kind of rambling, the kind that happens when you are anxious.  “I’ve never checked into a hotel by myself.  I really don’t know what to say or do.”  It’s obvious to everyone around her how nervous she is.  “Eric always took care of these things.  He took care of everything.  I really thought he’d take care of me forever.  Well, he might have, but he was busy taking care of a lot of people.  Not in the nice way, either.  Well, not nice to me, but nice to someone else, I guess.”  She talks until she is out of breath.  When she looks around, she realizes the every person in the room, all four of them, are staring at her.

“Um . . . ” She turns around a few times, embarrassed by her outburst. “I’m so sorry.” She lets out a sigh before she continues, “Today has been a rough day. Actually, it’s been rough a while, but today takes the cake.”  Then she bursts into tears.  “Just . . . the one . . . just the one night, please.” 

Everyone goes back to what they were doing before the outburst, and the lady behind the counter checks in. The bellboy takes pity on her, and just grabs her things to help her to her room.  Isabella tips him and thanks him before falling onto the bed and crying.  Crying for what she gave up.  Crying for what would never be. 

Isabella opens her eyes and looks around in the dark room. She realizes she fell asleep fully dressed and on top of the comforter, with her legs dangling off the bed.  She quickly changes into her jammies and climbs under the covers, leaving the bathroom light on because she’s a little nervous about being all alone in a strange town. 

The room is filled with light when she awakens.  Groggy and a little confused, Isabella looks around and realizes she forgot to close the privacy curtains.  She chuckles at herself, knowing there’s not going to be any more sleeping for her today.  The morning sun begs her to start today off cheery and optimistic.  Thinking to herself that she’ll give it a try, she gets out of bed, gathers her things, and heads into the bathroom to shower.

Once dressed, she pastes a smile on her face, and heads to the check-out counter.  The same woman is working, so Isabella is a little embarrassed to approach.             

“Good morning, Miss Roden.  I hope you enjoyed your stay with us.”  The woman behind the counter is friendly and makes no mention of her state of mind last night. 

“I did.  It’s time to get on the road, though.  I’ve never done this part either, so I’m not sure what to do,” Isabella says, without looking up from the counter, her nerves obvious in the way she twiddles her hands together. 

“Checking out is easy.  Let me pull your information up on the computer and we’ll close you out.”  The warm smile from the woman relaxes Isabella. 

“Thank you.” 

When she’s done, she packs up her car and leaves.  The little bit of sleep she got did nothing for her aching heart.  With each mile that passes, loneliness roots deeper inside of her.  The tears stream down her face for so long, that she’s sure she’ll be dehydrated from the water loss. 

After five long hours of driving and crying, and with a sore butt, stiff back, and headache, Isabella pulls off Highway eighty. Although there seem to be a lot of choices, she can’t decide if she’d rather eat fast or relax among people.  She finally decides on Chester’s Chicken.  It’s bustling with activity, and she hopes the chaos will ease her loneliness for the time being. 

The families around her inside the restaurant don’t help the ache go away.  In fact, the longing deep in her stomach is worse.  She’d hoped to have a family of her own by now.  Eric promised her the world five years ago, and, though it was wonderful at first, he didn’t deliver on anything. 

“Keep your eyes closed, sweetheart.  Just a few more steps.”  He guided me along as he took me to the surprise he’d been alluding to for a few months now.  She had no idea what he was up to, but she was so anxious to finally see it.  They’d been married for a year, and she knew he wanted to do something special for her for their anniversary.  He begged her not to spend a lot on him, since this surprise would
really be for both of them. 

When he finally stopped her, he whispered in her ear that he was going to count to three and then she could open her eyes.  “One . . .  two . . . three.” 

She opened her eyes, expecting to be standing near suitcases or a car packed for a trip.  Never had she imagined he’d buy her a house.  Of course it was ostentatious, sitting at the top of the cul-de-sac, gated from the world, and the largest on the block.  Nothing at all like what she wanted.  It was beautiful, but not her. 

The waitress disrupts her memory by asking if she’d like anything else. 

She shakes her head no and, with tears leaking out of her eyes, ones she hadn’t realized were there, she hands over her money. 

How would she ever recover from this?  On top of it all, home wasn’t really home anymore.  The southern California beaches were her home now, her only family.  Her mom had died just after she left for college; her dad, a year and a half after she married Eric.  Devastated and alone, she’d traveled home for her dad’s funeral. Her aunt had arranged it, knowing how hard it was going to be for her to do alone.  Aunt Susan was her favorite person in the whole family, and Isabella had been so close to her cousin while they were young. 

Eric made it a point to isolate her from her entire family.  He never let her go home to visit, claiming she was too vulnerable alone, and he was always too busy to get away.  Humph, he wasn’t as busy as he claimed, at least not with work.  He sure as hell found time to wine and dine the masses, hoping to cash in on their fortune.  Why didn’t he love her enough?  She never asked for anything.  Never expected him to give her the things he did.  She wanted to work, but he would always say, “Men who make the kind of money I make don’t have wives that work.  Join some women’s groups, work with charities, and enjoy being spoiled.  You are so lucky to have those opportunities.”  He never understood.

The miles stretched on and on.  She thought about how things went so wrong.  They had to have been good at some point, right?  There is no way she’d been miserable all five years.  The year they dated before getting married was a whirlwind of trips, gifts, and romance every moment.  It was overwhelming for a small-town girl, but matched every little girl’s dream of being treated like a princess.  When did the fairytale turn into a nightmare?  How did she end up here . . . heading to the place she once called home.