Page 83 of Season of Gifts

Charcoal covered the page—and his hands.He’d smudged it all along his shirtsleeves nearly to the elbows.A swirling mess sat before him, smudged repeatedly as he’d dragged his hand.No fixative, no clean lines.But recognizably him in mournful grays and blacks, the shadowed green of his eyes the only color he’d allowed, his powdery fingerprints left on the pastel stick.

Seven.The house on the bay had had a hammock on the porch.The beach sand had slipped under his feet, never offering solid footing but on the sharp, craggy stones.He’d rush to each new discovery and back to Mother, orbiting her with erratic frequency.Grandfather, too, though he hadn’t stayed all summer.But he’d visited for a day or two at a time, once a week, sometimes twice.Hovering over his broken daughter, Henry’s frail mother.Father had come twice, on weekends stiff and tense, bringing Robert with him.And in the fall, life had resumed as though the past winter had been a fever dream.

Better for Alice and Jay that they hadn’t been present to witness their dominant’s floundering these last two weeks.He would take tomorrow and the drive Saturday to return to the proper mindset for them—and for himself.To regain himself.To step back and release the past.

Therapy was never complete; it had no endpoint.But the peace he thought he’d made—Alice and Jay deserved that Henry.This Henry, the one stumbling out of memories past midnight, listening to his mother’s breaths as a soundtrack, he had nothing to offer them.Presumptuous, that this unbalanced man would claim to guide them and keep them safe.How could they trust him in this state?How could he trust himself?

He ought to sleep.But he should check on Mother first.In a few hours the day would begin again, and they had cardiac rehab to attend and goose to pick up and ballet tickets to pass off and errands to accomplish.Seven-year-old Henry could do none of those things.

Shoving one hand flat against the page, he tore with the other, a ragged sweep down the center.Half the portrait drifted to the floor, leaving a rough edge behind, one haunted green eye staring up at him.

He crumpled the face in his fist and deposited the mess in the trash.Leaving the room, he closed the door firmly behind.

Chapter forty-three

Alice

Fourandahalfdays.She’d left in a frenzied rush Monday morning, and it was one-oh-seven precisely Friday afternoon when the front door accepted Alice’s key and welcomed her home again.She sagged against the door, shoving it closed with her back as her roller bag thunked on the tile.

Henry had gotten Ollie a new luggage set for Christmas.Or he’d meant to, at least.She’d have to check with him on whether that had happened before—just before.The before time, when they’d been giddy on the highs of a new house and a newly minted marriage, and Henry, in consultation with her and Jay, had decided that travel pieces would be his gifts for Ollie and Nat this year, to remind them that they could visit at any time and be received with love.

The love part was key.Travel was fucking exhausting.She’d bolted out of bed at three in the morning to silence her alarm, shower, and swipe a bagged Danish and a banana from the hotel’s complimentary breakfast space, which wouldn’t have hot food until she was two hours in flight.Worth every minute of lost sleep, though.And the play-by-play from Wade about Adam’s dressing-down in front of the bigwigs made for satisfying in-flight entertainment.

Packing would be first—no, second.First would be lining up a rental car, because they sure as hell wouldn’t be ridesharing three hours up the highway.

But oh God, first first:home.Walking into a place she belonged, with people who loved her—nothing matched that comfort.The air smelled right, the tree and all the swags they’d hung so like Jay, fresh and crisp and embracing her.In a crouch, she unzipped the roller bag’s big pocket and slopped dirty clothes out the side, digging for treasures.

The shoebox of ornaments had survived the trip.She toed off her shoes and dashed into the living room.

She spun lazily to the wall, Henry’s low rumble scolding her in her head for running, half-dancing as she reached for the cord for the lights.With plug and socket wedded, the tree lit up.So what if it was daytime outside?The cheer in the house multiplied tenfold with that white-gold glow.

Jay must’ve been tending the tree every day.No needles on the skirt, and he’d stashed a little dustpan and brush in the back corner.Plenty of water to keep the limbs high and the needles green.She breathed deep.Evergreen peace filled her lungs.A few more hours and she’d have the man herself in her arms.A mental list ready to praise him couldn’t hurt.

The space underneath the tree sat empty, and her shoebox didn’t do much to fill it.She could add her ornaments to the tree after the holiday, when they all came home together.But they would take their gifts to Maine.Probably?Shit, she needed to wrap hers—that would go on the to-do list, too.Jay could wrap his after he got home, if he needed to.Well, and after her plans for him.He would see that he was first on her list.Which left Henry’s gifts, and those might or might not be wrapped, and he might or might not want them opened in front of his family.

Another thing to ask Henry when she called him.Only not yet, because calling him after she’d made the car reservation would be so much more definitive than calling and suggesting it first.Jay needed his dominants, and they needed him, even when they were too stubborn or self-sacrificing to admit it.And she’d promised him they would make the drive tonight.

Passing through the dining room, she ran her fingers along her childhood photos on the mantel.In those brief hours before Dad ruined things, she’d understood Mom better.Let the happy memories slip out of hiding.Those days weren’t figments of her imagination.Mom remembered them too, and here were the photos to prove they existed.

“Still have work to do there.”And she would have to tell Ollie about the visit sooner rather than later.But not until she told Henry, and that would not be happening over the phone.She needed the love and understanding in his eyes and his firm embrace and even the warning that she should have brought the question to him first, before spur-of-the-moment going to see her parents.Plus, she had travel to plan.“Priorities, Allie-girl.”

Instead of fretting about the cost of a rental car—okay, yikes, yes, astronomical to get an open-ended anything the Friday before Christmas, but that was fine.It was a necessary expense.She digitally signed the paperwork on her phone.The confirmation arrived as she was sizing up dinner options.

Practically nothing in the fridge.Bare shelves and a nearly empty carton of eggs.

“What have you been eating, stud?Scrambled eggs for every meal?”Not great.Fuck, if this had unfolded any other way—but it hadn’t.They would create an emergency plan in case it ever happened again, because failure was nothing more than a step on the trial-and-error path to success.By tonight this situation would be two-thirds fixed, and once they reconnected with Henry, they could all work together to solve the lingering issues around Mother’s health.

Dinner for tonight, that went on the to-do list.Something nourishing and quick, so they could get on the road and Jay wouldn’t be starving again an hour later.Takeout, because depending on her cooking would be a dicey proposition, and then there would be dishes, and—takeout, yes.Fantastic.The decision train was rolling.

She lugged her carry-on up the stairs and into the bedroom, emptying it almost straight into the hamper system.The bags hung slack; Jay must’ve done laundry last night after their call.Smart man.Another for the praise list.

The bed whispered an enticing lullaby, promising the best sleep she’d had since Sunday.No time for a nap.But a few minutes.She rolled onto the comforter and pulled half of it around her, snugging it like a sleeping bag.The bed added Jay’s earthy maleness to the evergreen.Planting her face in the pillow, she breathed in and out, in and out, in and—

“Oh no you don’t.Not falling for that, sneaky brain.”Fighting heavy limbs and sagging eyelids, she forced herself out of the cocoon and shook her head side to side.A shower later would help her wake up.And food.Snack, pack, shower.Her second of the day, but this one would come with benefits.

She almost made it to the stairs.Hand on the railing, because her stomach was growling and her brain was sleepy and the logical answer was something from the pantry.But the playroom door was open, and her heart told logic to fuck right off.

Slipping inside, she shivered with a wave of belonging.The coffee table kept its folded-in secrets.A floor pillow rested in front of the leather chair, two grooves dimpling the fabric with the imprint of Jay’s waiting pose.She’d convinced herself that she and Jay had hardly left a mark on the new house yet, but that wasn’t true.The signs lay everywhere, and coming home to them made them so much more powerful.

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