Page 6 of Can't Miss Christmas

“To Philadelphia,” Graham answered.

“Well, be safe. I’ve seen a lot of pileups when the weather gets like this because they don’t salt like they should.”

“Thanks. You get home safe too.” Worrying about the weather temporarily took his mind off Grace. He was glad to get back to the car, crank up the defrost, and flick on the wipers, the smell of heat and really bad coffee filling the air.

Grace held her coffee wrapped in her hands, close to her face.

“Don’t you have gloves?” he asked. She looked cold.

“I forgot them somewhere.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re thinking I haven’t changed at all. Still forgetful. I know you’re always prepared for every situation, but I’ve done just fine without you, gloves or no gloves.”

“I know you have,” he said quietly. Yes, she had done just fine without him. “I wasn’t being critical. I was just wondering if you should buy a cheap pair before we leave.”

“Oh.” She looked chagrined. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You were worrying about me.”

“Just being a friend. That’s acceptable, isn’t it?”

“I’ll always consider you a friend. Even if we don’t have to deal with each other the rest of our lives. Like Janine and Ted.”

He frowned, not because he especially cared about the couple who’d lived a few doors down in their apartment building in Brooklyn, but because it sounded like she’d accepted that Graham wasn’t going to be part of her life much longer. “What about Janine and Ted?”

“Didn’t you know they divorced? About a year ago.”

“No surprise there. They both had wandering eyeballs.”

“My point is, they can’t stand each other, but they’ll always be bound by their children. I mean we—we don’t have anything like that binding us forever.”

“First of all,” he said, “I don’t dislike you. I never felt like I couldn’t stand you.”

He paused, debating whether or not he should speak what was on his mind. “And second, wearebound by a child.” Judging by the stony silence that followed, the words had dropped hard. But he didn’t regret them. They’d had a child. He had a name. They would always be united by that experience, from the joy and anticipation of pregnancy to their son’s early birth and the heartbreaking roller-coaster ride afterward.

“We are bound by our son,” he said quietly. “To not acknowledge that is to say he never existed.”

She turned to him. The defrost fan suddenly sounded jarring, so he dialed it down. It was dark, but under the intermittent lights on the highway, her eyes looked a little shiny. Finally, after all the small talk, he’d said something meaningful. Something that had cut through some of the layers of bullshit that were cemented like a wall between them.

“No one ever talks about it,” Grace said, looking into the distance. “None of my friends, not even my sister. Sometimes I wish someone would acknowledge what happened instead of always pretending it didn’t.”

“Same here,” he said. Their baby was a subject that never came up among his brothers. Even his sisters and his parents didn’t bring it up. It was too sad, too crushing. Their baby was a premie who’d fought hard, but there were just too many complications—pneumonia and then a blood infection had overwhelmed his tiny body. Graham drove on in silence, lost in thought. Remembering Joshua just now with Grace reminded him of all he’d lost—and not just his son.

Just then, the snow went from pelting to total whiteout. Graham cranked up the wipers, which snapped obediently back and forth.

“Maybe we should stop,” Grace said.

“At a rest area?” he said. “Just kidding.” He caught her smiling.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. Maybe it was. But he wasn’t necessarily thinking about the weather.

* * *

“Graham, it’s horrible out here.” Two hours later, somewhere in southern Connecticut, Grace noticed him leaning forward, a vise grip on the wheel. “I’m sorry I was so insistent about doing this.”

She almost expected Graham to say,No surprise there. They’d often butted heads over which of them was most stubborn. Instead, he said, “You’re the big headliner tomorrow. All those kids are waiting for you.” He wiped a foggy spot on the windshield with the back of his hand. “Besides, I need to get home too. Evan deploys to Afghanistan the day after Christmas.”

“He must be all grown up now.” The last Grace had seen Graham’s youngest brother, he’d been seventeen, and she’d heard from one of Graham’s sisters that he’d joined the military. She missed Graham’s close-knit siblings, and his parents, who’d been married thirty-five years. They’d given her a sense of family she’d never had.

“I still can’t believe it happened to us,” he said out of the blue.

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