Page 23 of One Night at Christmas

“I can do it myself, Mommy.”

“Oh, well excuse me.” Charon chuckled. “You’re getting to be a big girl, huh?”

“I’m almost grown up.”

“Almost? Wow.”

Her daughter glared at her. “You’re teasing me, Mommy, aren’t you?”

“Who me? Never.”

A smack of Morris’s hand on the table made both Charon and Naomi jump. “Did you forget what we were talking about, Charon?”

Her appetite evaporated, and she set her fork down. “I didn’t forget anything. As far as I’m concerned the conversation is over. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t throw a temper tantrum at the table.”

“A temper tantrum?” He slammed his hand down again, and Naomi burst out crying.

“See what you did?” She shoved her chair back and walked around the table to get her daughter down from the booster seat. Dinnertime was obviously over. “You couldn’t have just waited until she was done, Morris? You have to have all of my attention at all times? I’m so over it. I’m done. Do you hear me? Done.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” He grabbed for her arm as she walked their daughter past him. She jerked out of reach and snarled at him.

“If you put your hands on me, I’m calling the police.”

He gasped. “I’ve never hit you!”

“Oh, I know, but you were going to try to stop me, and that’s a mistake. I can’t even express how pissed I am right now, so back off.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” He uttered a shaky laugh and shoveled a forkful of salad into his mouth. The idiot chewed it like they didn’t have a care in the world or that Naomi wasn’t screaming and acting out. Pain shot through Charon’s skull.

“I’m leaving.”

His eyes bugged. He stumbled over his words. She couldn’t make sense of what he said, so she cut him off.

“This is your house, and it’s in your name, so I’m leaving. Before you ask, I don’t know where we’re going. Maybe we’ll go to my cousin’s. I know one thing—I’m not going to be walking on eggshells with you ever again.”

He jumped to his feet and knocked the chair over. The explosion of sound silenced Naomi for a minute. She stared at her daddy while clinging to Charon’s hand. Charon guessed her daughter didn’t know what to make of Morris’s attitude. Whenever Morris grew angry, Naomi usually ran to him to try to coax him into a better mood. Tonight, she stayed close to Charon.

“You’re not taking my daughter anywhere,” he shouted.

“Try me.”

His jaw tightened. “Who’s going to watch her when you go to work? Did you forget that I’ve been babysitting the last two months?”

“Did you forget how to take care of yourself and pay your own bills?” she sniped back.

“I can’t believe you would be so cold, Charon. After—”

“After what? After all you’ve done for me? Made me miserable? Punished me? After that, you mean? I’m out.”

“He’s picking you up?”

She left the kitchen with Naomi in tow. Butterflies stirred in her belly that he would head her off and use his greater strength to keep her from leaving with Naomi. He did nothing but stand around, watching her pack a bag with her things and their daughter’s. He didn’t say a word as she loaded up her car with whatever she didn’t care to part with and pulled out of the drive.

She tried for four years, and now it was over. Her mind stirred with confusion and fear. She had a job but not much in the way of finances to support them. Every dime had gone to the bills without help. Now, they were homeless and broke—and Christmas was just days away.

Chapter Nine

Bryson set his pen down and rubbed his eyes. He reached for the bottle at his elbow and then stopped. Had he already taken the pain meds? If he did, they sure didn’t help. The ache in his skull seemed to have spread down his neck and into his shoulders. Stress, he thought. He needed a vacation, but he hadn’t taken off for the last four years. Not even for his honeymoon.

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