Trading Christmas - Debbie Macomber [55]
“I got something else for Emily, too, in appreciation for trading places with me.”
This was quite a switch from his initial attitude. “The way I remember it, you said you’d walked into the middle of a Christmas nightmare.” Faith couldn’t restrain a smile. “And then I showed up.”
“That was no nightmare,” he said softly. “That was a gift.”
Faith didn’t know what to say. His intensity flustered her and she felt the heat rush into her cheeks. After the sleigh ride, something had happened between them, something that was difficult to put into words. She sensed that sharing her pain and the bitter disappointment of her divorce had, in some strange way, released him. Charles hadn’t said anything, but Faith realized words were often inadequate when it came to conveying emotions. She’d noticed the changes in him last night and even more so this morning.
“You got presents for the Kennedy kids?” she asked, pointing to the packages.
He nodded. “Did you know their dad got laid off last month?”
The kids hadn’t said anything to her, but apparently they had to Charles.
“They didn’t tell me, either,” he told her before she could comment, “but I overheard Mark and Thomas talking about it. And then, early this morning, I saw someone deliver a food basket to the house. With six children, it’s got to be tough this time of year.”
“What a sweet thing to do. If you want, I’ll help you write up gift cards and deliver them.”
He nodded and the boyish, pleased look was back. “I enjoyed myself today. I didn’t know Christmas could be this much fun. It’s always been a time I dreaded.”
“But why?”
Charles glanced away. “It’s a long story, and a boring one at that.”
“Involving a woman, no doubt.”
He shrugged.
Faith waited expectantly. She’d shared her pain with him; the least he could do was trust her enough to divulge his.
“I see,” she said after an awkward moment. She turned back to the kitchen.
Charles followed her. “If you want to know—”
“No, it isn’t necessary,” she broke in. “Really.”
“It was a devastating experience, and I’d prefer not to discuss it.”
“I understand,” she said and she did. Faith reassured him with a smile, gathering up the cookbooks and replacing them on the shelf.
“Her name was Monica.”
Faith pretended not to hear.
“I loved her and I was sure she loved me.”
“Charles, really, you don’t need to explain if you’d rather not.”
He threw off his coat and sat at the table. “But I would. Please.” He gestured to the chair across from him.
Faith pulled it out and sat down. He took her hands, holding them in his own. “I adored her and assumed she felt the same way about me. I bought an engagement ring and planned to give it to her on Christmas Day. Thankfully I never had the opportunity to ask her to marry me.”
“Thankfully?”
Charles’s fingers tightened around hers. “She told me on Christmas Eve that she found me dull and tedious. I learned later that she’d met someone else.”
Faith knew he didn’t want her sympathy and she didn’t offer it. “I think she was an extremely foolish woman.”
Charles raised his eyes until they met hers. “I am dull and tedious.”
“No,” she countered swiftly. “You’re brilliant and absentminded and quite possibly the kindest man I know.”
A slow smile touched his mouth. “And you,” he said. “You’re the most marvelous woman I’ve ever met.”
TWENTY-FIVE
“Alone at last,” Ray muttered as he shut the condo door. He’d walked his mother outside and waited with her until the taxi arrived to take her to the Four Seasons Hotel.
“Ray!” Emily said. “Your mother is hilarious.”
“Believe me, I know. She’s also meddling and demanding.”
“But she loves you and worries about you.”
“I should be worrying about her,” Ray said. “I can’t believe she’d fly here without telling me.”
“She tried,” Emily reminded him. “If I remember correctly, she left four messages, none of which you returned.”
Ray looked up at the ceiling and rolled his eyes. “Guilty as charged.”
“She does have impeccable timing,