Page 13 of Christmas with Holly

“She’s only six, Sam. Let’s worry about it later.”

“I’m worried that later’s going to get here sooner than we think. I—” Sam broke off and rubbed his forehead as if to soothe away an oncoming headache. “I’ve got something to show you after Holly goes to bed.”

“What? Should I be worried about something?”

“I don’t know.”

“Damn it, tell me now.”

Sam kept his voice low. “Okay, I was going through Holly’s homework folder to make sure she’d finished that coloring page…and I found this.” He went to a stack of paper on the counter and pulled out a single page. “The teacher gave them a writing prompt in class this week,” he said. “A letter to Santa. And this is what Holly came up with.”

Mark gave him a blank look. “A letter to Santa? We’re still in the middle of September.”

“They’ve already started running holiday commercials. And when I was at the hardware store yesterday, Chuck mentioned they were going to put out Christmas trees by the end of the month.”

“Before Thanksgiving? BeforeHalloween?”

“Yes. All part of an evil worldwide corporate marketing plan. Don’t try to fight it.” Sam handed him the sheet of paper. “Take a look at this.”

Dear Santa

I want just one thing this year

A mom

Please dont forget I live in friday harbor now.

thank you

love

Holly

Mark was silent for a full half minute.

“A mom,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I get it.” Still staring at the letter, Mark muttered, “What a hell of a stocking stuffer.”

After dinner, Mark went out to the front porch with a beer and sat in a comfortably beat-up wooden chair. Sam was tucking Holly in and reading her a story from the book bought earlier that day.

It was still the time of year when sunsets were long and slow to fade, painting the sky over the bay in saturated pinks and oranges. Watching the shallows glitter between the brackets of deep-rooted madrone trees, Mark wondered bleakly what he was going to do about Holly.

A mom.

Of course that was what she wanted. No matter how Mark and Sam tried, there were some things they couldn’t do for her. And although there were countless single dads who were raising daughters, no one could deny that there were milestones that a girl wanted a mother for.

Following the child psychologist’s advice, Mark had set out a couple of framed pictures of Victoria. He and Sam made certain to talk about Victoria to Holly, to give the child a sense of connection with her mother. But Mark could do more than that, and he knew it. There was no reason Holly had to navigate the rest of her childhood without someone to mother her. Shelby was as close to perfect as it got. And Shelby had made it clear that despite Mark’s ambivalence about marriage, she was willing to be patient. “Our marriage wouldn’t be like your parents’ marriage,” she had pointed out gently. “It would beours.”

Mark had understood the point, even agreed. He knew he wasn’t like his father, who had thought nothing of backhanding his children. Theirs had been a tempestuous household, filled to the roof with caterwauling, violence, drama. The Nolan parents’ version of love, with its screaming fights and lurid reconciliations, had featured all the worst components of marriage, and none of its graces.

Understanding that even though his parents’ marriage had been a perfect disaster, it didn’t have to be that way, Mark had tried to remain neutral on the concept. He had always thought that when or if he ever found the right person, there would be some kind of inner confirmation, a sanction of the heart that would remove all doubt. So far that hadn’t happened with Shelby.

What if it never happened with anyone? He tried tothink of marriage as a pragmatic arrangement with someone you cared about. Maybe that was the best way to approach it, especially when you had a child’s interests to consider. Shelby had the kind of personality—calm, pleasant, affectionate—that would make her a great mother.

Mark didn’t believe in the illusions of romance, or of soul mates. He was the first to admit that he had an earthbound mind, anchored in cold, hard reality. He liked it that way. Was it unfair to Shelby to offer marriage based on practical considerations? Maybe not, as long as he was honest about his feelings—or lack of them.

Finishing his beer, he went back into the house, tossed the bottle into the recycling bin, and went to Holly’s room. Sam had tucked her in and left the night-light on.

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