The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [86]
There were grins and murmurs at his remark. Sam got to his feet and sang the first words of “Silent Night.” Everyone joined in, their voices rising in joyful sound. Matt thought he’d never heard anything so achingly beautiful, so…sincere.
As the last line died away, Sam walked over to the wall and turned out the light. The room went dim, but the outside lights cast a warm glow into the station’s interior.
“It’s nine o’clock,” the ex-hippie announced. “I haven’t been to bed this early in twenty years, but I’m more than ready to hit the hay.”
His wife giggled. The two of them cuddled awkwardly on the hard bench, kissing and whispering.
Matt felt a pang of regret at seeing the closeness they shared, a closeness so sadly lacking in his own marriage. He glanced at his watch, certain that Pam would be home now, probably seething about the brief message he’d left. Nevertheless he wanted to talk to her. No, he corrected himself, he needed to talk to her.
Light from the window guided him to the far wall of the station, to the phones. Because it was still early, people continued to talk. He slipped his credit card through the slot and waited for the line to connect.
Pam answered on the first ring. “Hello.” Her clipped tone told him she was angry, as he’d expected.
“It’s Matt,” he said.
“Matt?” She paused. “Matt?” she said again. “Where—”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“How can you ‘Merry Christmas’ me with the kids screaming in my ear? Your parents are due any minute, and the house is a mess. The cat tipped over the Christmas tree and you’re…you’re…” She burst into tears.
“Pam,” he said softly. “Honey, don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it! I suppose you’re in some posh hotel, ogling the cocktail waitress, while I’m here—”
“I’m not in any hotel.”
“Then where are you?”
“A hundred-year-old train depot with…” Now it was his turn to pause. “With friends who were strangers not that long ago.”
“A train depot?” She sniffled and sounded unsure.
“It’s a long story and I’ll tell you about it when I get home.”
“You didn’t phone all week.”
“I know and I’m sorry, sweetheart, really sorry. It was childish and silly of me to let our argument stand in the way of talking to you and the kids.”
“You haven’t called me sweetheart in a long time.”
“Too long,” Matt said. “I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days, and once I’m home I want to talk to you about making some changes.”
“I’ve been a terrible wife,” she sobbed into the phone.
“Pam, you haven’t. Now stop. I love you and you love me, and we’re going to make it, understand?”
“Yes,” she mumbled, her reply quavery with emotion.
“Listen, I want you to think about two things.”
“Okay.”
“First, I want to quit my job.” Not until he said the words did Matt recognize how right it was to leave MicroChip. He should have known it when he was passed over for a promotion he’d earned. Being undervalued and underappreciated had cut into his self-confidence, and inevitably, his dissatisfaction with his job had affected his family life. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, allow that to continue.
“Quit your job?” Pam gasped.
“It isn’t as bad as it sounds. I’m going to send out a couple of feelers right after New Year’s. I’ve got a good reputation in the industry. I can get something else. The main thing is that I spend more time at home with you and the kids. It’s unfair to have you chained down with all the responsibility for them and the house while I travel. I’m going to be looking for a sales position that won’t take me away for more than a day at a time.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“The other thing we need is a vacation, just the two of us. I’ve got vacation time coming, and it’s been far too long since you and I got away without the kids.”
“I’d love that, Matt, more than anything.”
“How about a Caribbean cruise?” he suggested.
“Yes… Oh, Matt, I love you so much and I’ve felt so awful about the way our marriage has been going.”
“Me, too. We’ll talk about that some more. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to see a counselor, either.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Over