The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [78]
Nick stared at the man in disbelief. This had to be the worst Christmas of his entire life! Trapped with a cranky newborn and a wife who refused to see reason. If it’d been up to him, the three of them would at least have been in a motel room, comfortable and warm. But Kelly hadn’t wanted to leave the station, certain the repairs wouldn’t take long. Now it was too late. The guy with the long hair and his wife had already made inquiries. Apparently every hotel for miles around was full.
This optimistic bent of Kelly’s had always been a problem. He’d been ready to give up on the fertility clinic long before she agreed. The expense had been horrific, and he didn’t mean just the financial aspects. Emotionally Kelly was a wreck two weeks out of every month. Only when he was able to talk her into accepting their situation and applying to an adoption agency had she gotten off the emotional roller coaster.
Nick had almost given up hope himself—and then they received the phone call about Brittany. That five-minute conversation had changed their lives forever.
He found himself grinning at the memory. Kelly was the one who’d been cool and calm while he’d sat there trembling. He’d never experienced any excitement even close to what he’d felt when he learned they finally had a baby.
The first instant he saw Brittany, he’d been swept by a love so powerful it was beyond comprehension. Yet here he was, three months later, acting like a dolt and snapping at his wife in public.
That wasn’t his only offense, either. For most of the afternoon, he’d ignored Kelly and the baby, wanting to escape them both. He wasn’t proud of himself; he’d ignored their needs, leaving Kelly to care for their daughter on her own while he brooded and behaved like a spoiled child.
With that in mind, he boarded the train, walked down the narrow aisle and got the baby seat down from the storage compartment. Kelly’s arms must be tired from holding Brittany. He wished he’d thought of this sooner.
Hauling in a deep breath, he walked back into the station and stomped the snow from his boots. When he looked up, he discovered Kelly staring at him, her lips tight, but her eyes forgiving.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he sat beside her. He gazed down at Brittany, who gazed back at him, her blue eyes wide and curious. His daughter seemed to recognize him, and she, at least, didn’t know enough to realize what a cantankerous fool he’d been the past few hours. He offered her his finger, which she gripped eagerly with her little hand.
“I’m sorry, too,” Kelly whispered back, sounding close to tears.
Nick set the baby seat on the floor and placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders. She leaned her head against him. “I don’t know what came over me,” he murmured. “I wish we were anyplace but here.”
“Me, too,” Kelly said.
“Amy?”
Len felt a surge of relief and unmistakable joy at the sound of her “hello.”
“Are you in Boston?” she asked excitedly. “When can you catch a flight home?”
“I’m still in Abbott,” Len said, his happiness evaporating quickly with the reality of this long day. He was trapped, a hostage to circumstances beyond his control.
“You’re still in Abbott?” Amy sounded ready to weep. “Oh, Len, will you ever get home for Christmas?”
“I don’t know,” he told her, trying to keep his own hopes alive—and failing. It seemed everything was against him.
“Yes,” he said suddenly, emphatically. For a moment he didn’t know where this optimism had come from. Then he did. It was his overwhelming need to be with Amy. “I will get home for Christmas.” He wasn’t about to let the storm, the damaged tracks or anything else ruin his leave. “I’ll be home for Christmas, Amy. You can count on it.”
He could almost feel her spirits rise. “Your girl in Rawhide will be waiting for you, sailor man.”
“You’re more than my girl in Rawhide,” Len said. “You’re my one and only girl. Period!”
She said nothing after his declaration. “Do you mean that, Len?” she finally asked.
“With