Page 9 of Holiday Grief

Because Adam had to conduct the interview, she was left in charge of the little girl. They’d baked and decorated cupcakes. Jasmine had given her a piano lesson when Claire caught sight of it and wanted to play it, and they’d colored. Before leaving, Claire had given her a picture she’d drawn of the two of them baking.

The picture still hung on her fridge.

Jasmine liked the little girl a lot. She was as sweet as her daddy, but being around her stirred up all kinds of past trauma.

Trauma she hadn't dealt with yet.

Running didn't count as dealing.

Neither did hiding.

As her gaze fell on the daddy and daughter duo, she felt a pang in her chest. They could never be hers. Not really. And it had nothing to do with her assault.

Still if life was different, if she was different, not such a screwup and disappointment then maybe …

But life wasn’t different, and neither was she. Jasmine knew she would never deserve a love as pure as Adam and Claire would offer.

Almost as if the pair could feel the weight of her gaze they turned as one, smiles lighting their faces when they saw her.

They were too good for her, and she cared about them enough that she should walk away, but she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to actually do it.

Not when they beamed joy into her life instead of judgment.

Flickering her fingers in greeting, Jasmine tried not to shrink away from the crowd of people in the pottery barn as she walked toward them. Pottery was just one of the many special activities she offered at this time of year. It should make her happy to see the business she had worked hard to build doing so well, but she hadn't done well with crowds in a while, and even less since her assault in May.

“Jazzy!” Claire squealed, bouncing off the stool she’d been sitting on to engulf her in a huge hug.

“Careful, pumpkin, you’re getting clay and paint all over Jasmine,” Adam said, reaching to extricate his daughter from her hold.

“It’s okay, Claire,” Jasmine said quickly, not wanting the little girl to get in trouble even as she knew Adam was a fair and reasonable parent. “I always wear old clothes when hanging on the farm because this is a place where we have fun and don’t have to worry about being clean.”

“Guess what I'm making,” Claire demanded, bouncing in Jasmine’s arms.

Casting a glance at the black lump of pottery sitting on the table, she didn't want to admit she had no idea what it was supposed to be, so she quickly looked over at Adam. He stifled a laugh and held up his hands mimicking playing a piano, and she gave a discreet nod.

“Umm …” Jasmine tipped her head to the side as though thoughtfully studying the little girl’s creation. “Well … it looks like a … piano?”

“It is!” Claire squealed delightedly. Her pure joy and excitement over the holiday season was infectious, and Jasmine’s smile became less brittle and more genuine. “Guess who it’s for.”

“Your daddy?”

“Nope. I made daddy … oops,” Claire looked over her shoulder at her father, “it’s ‘posed to be a surprise.”

“Then keep that big mouth of yours closed,” Adam teased, tickling the backs of Claire’s knees and making her giggle.

“Your grandma? Grandpa?” Claire shook her head no to both. “Aunts? Uncles? One of your cousins? A friend from school?” More nos. “I give up. Who did you make it for?”

“It’s for you, silly,” Claire informed her.

Emotion clogged her throat.

It had been a long time since she received a Christmas gift. While she had reconnected with her family a little before she started the farm, things were different between them than when she was a child. There was a distance there, one she didn't know how to bridge.

“For me?” she whispered.

“Cos you likes playin’ piano, and you's real good. I want to learn to play songs like you do. Daddy said you could teach me if you have time.”

Claire’s hopeful brown eyes looked at her expectantly, even as Adam stood and winced.

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