Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [38]
Maybe it was, but Heather couldn’t help herself. “I’m just worried about her.”
“You’re worried about Mommy?” Now he made it seem like one big joke and that infuriated her even more.
“You don’t have a clue,” Heather cried. Vaulting to her feet, she tore down the beach, kicking up sand. A few minutes later, she was out of breath and started walking, her eyes filled with tears.
“Wait up,” Elijah shouted.
She was surprised he’d come after her. Heather waited for him and then fell into his arms, weeping softly. Elijah held her in his muscular embrace.
“All right, babe, tell me all about it.”
“You don’t understand.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “I can’t be happy when you’re miserable, you know.”
And that made Heather remember why she loved him. Taking a deep breath, she tried to explain.
“Mom was born and raised in this dinky town in Washing ton State. This is her first trip to the East Coast.”
“Get out of here! Her first trip?”
Heather nodded. “I left her all by herself.”
“She loves you, right?”
“Of course. She’s my mother.”
“And you love her?”
“Of course—why else would I feel so awful?”
“Don’t you think she’d want you to be happy?” Elijah asked as if following his logic was a simple thing.
“Yes, I suppose, but…” Heather felt confused and unsure. “I wish it was that easy.”
“It is,” he argued. “Just don’t think about her.”
“She’s probably miserable and alone, and I did this to her.”
“Babe,” he said, more gruffly this time. “You didn’t ask her to fly to Boston, did you?” When she shook her head, he muttered, “Then get a grip. The others are starting to complain.”
“Who?”
“Peaches, for one.”
Heather had tried to make friends with the women but they were impossible. She was a college girl, so they disliked and mistrusted her on sight.
“Peaches would complain about me no matter what I said or did.”
“That’s not true,” Elijah asserted.
“Yes, it is. It’s the same with the others.” She didn’t mention the way the other girls had made fun of her. Heather wasn’t accustomed to riding on a motorcycle for long periods of time and suffered a bad case of TB, better known as tired butt.
“Walk with me,” Heather suggested, tugging at his arm.
Elijah hesitated. His only concession to the beach was a sleeveless T-shirt. Even in the Miami sunshine, he wore his leather pants and boots.
“Just for a little way,” Heather coaxed.
Elijah glanced over his shoulder and then nodded. “Not far, all right?”
“Sure.” At the moment Heather would have promised him anything. They hadn’t been alone since they’d left Boston. Even the motel room was shared with another couple. Naturally she was stuck with Peaches, who made no effort to hide her disdain for Heather.
They walked for a while, until Elijah decided they’d gone far enough, and sat down in the sand. “Tell me about your mother,” Heather said, pressing her head against his shoulder.
Elijah was silent for a moment. “Not much to tell. She’s a regular mother, or I think she would’ve been if she’d stayed around.”
“I’m sorry.” Heather felt bad for bringing up unhappy memories.
“It was a bummer after she left, but I survived.”
“What was Christmas like for you?”
Elijah pulled out his pack of cigarettes, lit one up and took a drag before responding. “It wasn’t any Santa down the chimney, if that’s what you mean.”
“How so?”
“Did I mention my dad took off a year before my mother?”
“No.” Heather felt worse than ever.
“No big deal. We had good foster parents, and the state always made sure we had at least one gift under the tree.”
Heather slid her arm around his waist.
“What about you?” he asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Sure I do,” he countered.
Heather wasn’t sure where to start. “I told you about Leavenworth, right?”
“Yeah, it’s a Bavarian kind of town, you said.”
“Right. Christmas is a big deal there and with my mother, too. I think she always wanted to make up for the fact that my dad died when I was young, so she really did the Christmas thing up big. We had