Page 28 of Christmas in His Arms

"Oh, give those to me. I can do this." She immediately knelt on the floor, so I perched on the edge of the recliner and eyed my shoes behind Helen. She either hadn’t seen them or she didn't notice they were mine.

While she busied herself mopping up the vomit, Carrie and I exchanged nervous glances. She picked up my shoes and set them on the end table just out of sight, and I sighed again with relief. Carrie must've been feeling the heat of almost getting caught too because she looked like she'd seen a ghost. Her face was pale, lips trembling.

"Oh, Ryan, I just didn't realize Carrie was feeling ill. How good of you to sit with her until I got home." Helen didn't even look up at me as she worked, and her words only made my conscience heavy with guilt.

Walter would've seen right through this. He'd be lecturing us both on propriety and transparency. I'd be banned from seeing Carrie again and just maybe, he'd think her leaving town was a good idea now. Not to mention the firestorm of gossip that would spread.

"You can go on home now. No need to sit here and feel tired." Helen looked up at me and smiled, and I nodded at her.

"Carrie, I hope you feel better when you wake up. If you need anything, some Pepto or some Tums, let me know. I'd be happy to run to the pharmacy so your mom doesn't have to go out for you." I stood, still hoping Helen didn't see my bare feet, and Carrie nodded at me.

"Thank you," she said politely, too stiffly. It was like she felt so caught off guard, it'd put her into some trance where she put up a wall. The intimacy wasn't in her eyes. The passion we'd shared only a few minutes ago was washed away by fear, and right now, I was nothing more than her father's helpful best friend.

It stung a little, but I wasn't sure what to expect. It wasn't like we could just come out and confess what was happening. We hadn’t even discussed it thoroughly enough to know. How could we tell Helen?

"Right, then, I'll be off." I walked around the back of the couch and picked up my shoes, holding them behind my back as Helen stood with vomit-soaked towels and started toward the kitchen.

"Drive safe. The roads are a bit slick," she called, and I had the urge to say goodbye to Carrie, but she was doubled over, hugging her stomach.

I walked out the door with my head hanging, and I put my shoes on while standing on the front porch. If Helen had come home just ten minutes sooner, she'd have caught us in the act. I thought I felt confident enough to tell Walter about my feelings for Carrie, but that reaction my body had to Helen walking in just told me how stupid I was being.

Carrie had her whole life ahead of her, and she was just starting out. I was selfish and foolish to expect her to give up her entire career and marry a man my age. My God, did I love her, but love wasn't the only thing that made a relationship work.

As I slunk to my car with my shoulders drooping, I shivered a bit and realized I left my coat in the house. I couldn’t go back now, so hopefully, Carrie just hid it for me. But even if she did, I was torn now. I didn't know if continuing to pursue her was right or wrong. I didn't know if I was being selfish for wanting her to myself when she had so much to offer the world. I lived in a dumpy little town full of nosy people. Carrie was on a path to success elsewhere.

How could I ask her to stay here? How could I ask her to give that up and date an old man? Especially in this town, surrounded by these people and their stories and the way they loved to talk about anything they deemed socially unacceptable?

Was I just that far gone? She deserved better.

21

CARRIE

The air was crisp, and though it was only seven p.m., it was dark as midnight. I walked with Mom and Dad toward the town square where the town tree was now fully decorated but not lit. I hadn't attended a tree lighting in Evergreen Falls in so long, I forgot how magical it could be. Tonight, it appeared the entire town had come out. Many of the townsfolk carried candles, and a lot of them were singing Christmas carols.

We were quiet, talking softly about how lucky we were that Dad's stroke wasn't more severe. It made this Christmas much more important, and I was actually glad I was home for this moment. Dad insisted on us bringing him out, and thankfully, the town had gotten all the walks free of snow and ice. Mom pushed his wheelchair, though it looked like she was struggling.

"I'm just happy we can get out of that house." Dad was a little grumpy after the hassle of helping him in and out of the car with the wheelchair. I knew he'd be thrilled when he could walk more than two steps without needing help.

"It's nice to get fresh air, isn't it?" Mom said, then grunted a little as she tried to turn the wheelchair around the corner to the final leg of our journey.

"Mom, let me do that," I told her, but she shook her head and waved me off.

"I'm fine, Carrie."

I scowled but knew there was no point in arguing with her. So I turned my attention toward the Christmas village erected here the day Ryan asked me to come help him supervise. I hadn't even been back past downtown since, and it looked really nice. I was impressed. Until my eyes caught a sight I wasn't expecting tonight, though I didn't know why it surprised me.

Ryan was standing next to the Santa cabin, smiling and handing ceremony attendees candles. He wore a Santa hat and a red scarf, and his usual black woolen trench coat made all the focus go to his face, where his stubbled chin made me itch to scratch my fingers along it. I felt my body growing warm just thinking of that, and then I thought of the night last week when Mom almost caught us in the act.

I was resting, almost dozing and feeling so nauseous when I heard the door open. If not for the slight morning sickness, I'd have been caught red handed, but thanks to the instant panic of being caught, my entire dinner came up. It was a good interruption to whatever Mom might have been thinking, and she made her own assumption that Ryan had stayed to help me—which we both let her believe.

It did, however, lead to her forcing me to stay in bed for three days to make sure I was better, which was only worsened by the fact that I threw up a few more times. Ryan only came by tohelp Dad with the outside lights, and Mom never even let me know he was there. We spoke via text messages, but even he was spooked, telling me we should let it cool off a bit so Mom didn’t get suspicious.

Tonight, though, my heart skipped a beat when I saw him and I got a giddy smile on my face. I shouldn't have. I should've been thinking about my unborn baby and how that would affect Ryan, but I missed him and his sweet gestures, like the coffee I never got to drink that night when Mom thought I was sick.

"Look, Walter, it's Ryan," Mom chirped, and she angled Dad's chair in Ryan's direction. The moment he saw us, he turned to a younger man standing next to him and said something, then jogged over and smiled.

"Helen, Walt… Let me do that for you." He nudged Mom aside in the most gentlemanly fashion, and she seemed happy to let him take the lead. I could've felt slighted since I asked before, but I was too happy to see Ryan to care.

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