Page 12 of Welcome Home for Christmas
A little charge rode through him. “Okay, Allison,” he said finally. “It’s a date.”
—
The next morning, Allison drove to Mercy’s Place feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. They’d raised a lot of money for the kids last night. Enough to give them a great Christmas. Today, as she did several Saturdays a month, Allison was going to do an activity with them. Christmas cookies. She parked at the children’s shelter and walked inside, waving at one of the ladies in the office.
“Good morning, Allison. Go on back, dear,” Ruthie, a middle-aged woman, said. “The kids are waiting for you.”
Allison walked a little faster. She didn’t want them to wait. She didn’t want them to be disappointed or upset.
A squeal pierced the air as she entered the large kitchen in the house. One of her favorite children, little Lucy, came barreling forward with arms outstretched. She wrapped herself around Allison’s legs and squeezed tight.
“Miss Allison! You came!” the little girl cheered.
“Of course I came. I told you we’d make Christmas cookies together last time I was here,” Allison said, stroking the back of the girl’s long hair and looking at the group. There were about fifteen kids staring up at her expectantly. Margaret Mills, the director, waved at her from the opposite side of the room.
Lucy reached for Allison’s hand and pulled her toward the table. “I want to make the cookies with the red and green sprinkles. And I want to save a few of mine to leave for Santa on Christmas Eve.” She spoke quickly, excitement pouring out of her.
“Okay. I’m sure we can freeze a couple. I think Santa prefers it if his cookies aren’t fresh, actually.”
Lucy looked up, meeting Allison’s eyes. Lucy’s were large and brown. Clay-colored freckles were haphazardly sprinkled over her nose and cheeks. She had dark wine-colored lips and red-brown hair. Allison thought she looked a lot like Punky Brewster, from the eighties show that she’d loved as a child. “I want the Feed Me Betty doll for Christmas,” Lucy told Allison as she climbed into a chair at the long kitchen table.
Allison nodded. Then the other children at the table started excitedly telling her what was on their Christmas wish lists, too. Suddenly Allison felt like the mall Santa, smiling and nodding as she heard their requests. “Well, I’m sure Santa will do his very best,” she finally said, happy that those weren’t just empty words. There really was a Santa Claus out there, thinking of these children. It was the combination of all the people who’d donated their time at the auction last night—one of which she’d purchased to be her pretend boyfriend.
“There’s no such thing as Santa Claus,” Miles, a little boy around eight years old, muttered. He tipped his chin toward his chest as he sat at the end of the table. “My daddy told me before he left me here.”
Allison’s heart fractured. “You have to believe.”
“Yeah,” Lucy said. “If you don’t believe, you won’t get a present.”
“I’m not getting one anyway. And neither are you.” He shook his head, looking angry. Allison could feel his hurt, though. She’d been only five when her birth father had left. She remembered watching him walk to his car in the driveway. She’d run across the lawn and clung to him the way Lucy had done with her a few minutes earlier.
He’d gently pulled her off. “Be a good girl and go back to Mommy,” he’d said. NoI love you.NoI’ll miss you.He’d just walked out on her and her mother, leaving them crying on the porch steps.
Allison stood and walked over to Miles, laying her hand on his shoulder. She dipped down to whisper in his ear, “You will be having Christmas. I promise. And things will get better. You’ll see.”
Things had gotten better for her. Her mother had met her stepfather, Jerry, and he’d been like the father she’d never had—even when she’d had her birth father. Things had worked out.
“Now help me get the cookie dough out of the refrigerator. You’re my helper this morning.”
Miles looked up. His eyes were glassy, but he was too tough at eight years old to cry. He nodded quietly and walked to the fridge. Allison blew out a breath and shared a look with Margaret, who was helping another child gather a cookie sheet and the needed utensils. Caring for these children had to be emotionally exhausting.
Lucy leaned back and summoned Allison’s attention, waving excitedly again.
And emotionally fulfilling, too,Allison thought, catching the child’s enthusiasm, pulling it in, and making it her own.
An hour later, the kids were all smiling, even Miles.
“Thank you so much for coming over,” Margaret said, as Allison prepared to leave. “And for raising money for more presents.”
“Anytime. I can pick up the presents on the list this week and bring them over to you if you want.”
“Perfect.”
“Any adoption interest this week?” Allison asked hopefully.
Margaret shook her head. “No. They all belong to me this holiday.”
Allison nodded. They talked a little while longer, then she left. It was midday, only a few hours from the time when Troy would be picking her up for their date. Instead of going home, Allison headed to Seaside Drive for a little shopping. The last couple of weeks she’d been purchasing gifts for others. She’d needed an excuse to buy something for herself. A date, even a fake one, warranted a new outfit. Something to make her feel attractive as she sat across from Troy. Desirable.
She remembered the way he’d leaned in and called her the most beautiful woman in the room at the auction last night. He’d definitely been the most desirable man. His was the kind of attractiveness that grew as you spoke to him, as his smile pushed up sexy crinkles at the corners of his twinkling eyes. The little micro-expressions of his face were fascinating.
Which was why tonight she should keep her eyes off. Troy was definitely her kind of catnip, and she wanted to stay in control. She needed to have no emotional investment in this pretend relationship, so that it wouldn’t matter when her mother uncovered Troy’s inevitable character flaw next weekend. All that mattered was that Allison looked like she was putting herself out there in the dating world again. Even if that was the furthest thing from the truth.
