Chistmas In Manhattan Collection. Alison Roberts
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you want to take your monkey suits off now?’
‘No. We want to be George.’
‘And watch George,’ Max added, nodding his agreement.
‘Okay. Do you eat your dinner at the table?’
‘Our table,’ Cameron told her. ‘With TV.’
‘Hmm. Let’s wash those monkey paws.’
Grace wasn’t sure that eating in front of the television was really the norm but, hey...they were all tired now and it was a birthday, after all. She served bowls of the homemade pasta bake on the top of a small, bright yellow table that Cameron and Max dragged to be right in front of the widescreen television. The chairs were different primary shades and had the boys’ names painted on the back. Fortunately, it was easy to see how to use the DVD player and an episode of Curious George was already loaded.
The smell of the mac and cheese made Grace realise how hungry she was herself. She knew she should tackle the mess in the kitchen but it wouldn’t hurt to curl up on the couch with a bowl of food for a few minutes, would it?
The yellow table, and the bowls, were suspiciously clean when Grace came in later with the platter of cookies and Houston had an innocent air that looked well practised. She had to press her lips together not to laugh out loud. She needed some practice of her own, perhaps, in good parenting?
The thought caught her unawares. She’d been enjoying this time so much it hadn’t occurred to her to realise that she was living a fantasy. But that was good, wasn’t it? That day at the park, she had wanted to able to embrace a special moment for what it was and not ruin it by remembering old pain. She had done that with bells on with this unexpected babysitting job.
The laughter had evaporated, though. And her smile felt distinctly wobbly. It was just as well that Cameron turned his head to notice what she was carrying.
‘Cookies...’
Max’s chair fell over backwards in his haste to get up and Houston barked his approval of the new game as they all rushed at Grace. She sat on the couch with a bump and held the platter too high to be reached by all those small fingers.
‘One each,’ she commanded. ‘And none for Horse, okay?’
They ended up having two each but they weren’t overly big cookies. And the crumbs didn’t really matter because a leather couch would be easy enough to clean. Not that Grace wanted to move just yet. She had two small boys nestled on either side of her and they were all mesmerised by what Curious George was up to on the screen.
‘He’s a very naughty monkey, isn’t he? Look at all that paint he’s spilling everywhere!’
The boys thought it was hilarious but she could feel their warm bodies getting heavier and heavier against her own. Houston was sound asleep with his head pillowed on her feet and Grace could feel her own eyes drooping. Full of comfort food and suddenly exhausted by throwing herself so enthusiastically into what would undoubtedly become an emotionally charged memory, it was impossible not to let herself slip into a moment of putting off the inevitable return to reality.
She wouldn’t let herself fall asleep, of course. She would just close her eyes and sink into this group cuddle for a minute or two longer...
* * *
It was the last thing Charles had expected to see when he let himself quietly into his apartment late that evening.
He knew his boys would have crashed hours ago and he had assumed they would be tucked up in their shared bedroom, in the racing car beds that had been last year’s extravagant gift from their grandparents.
They were, indeed, fast asleep when he arrived home after his hectic troubleshooting in a stretched emergency department, but they weren’t in their own beds. Or even in their pyjamas. Still encased in their little monkey suits, Cameron and Max were curled up like puppies on either side of Grace, who was also apparently sound asleep on the couch. Houston had woken at the scratch of the key in the lock, of course, but he wasn’t about to abandon the humans he was protecting. He didn’t budge from where he was lying across Grace’s feet but he seemed to be smiling up at Charles and his tail was twitching in a muted wag.
It might have been a totally unexpected sight, but it was also the cutest thing Charles had ever seen. He gazed at the angelic, sleeping faces of his sons and could feel his heart expanding with love so much it felt like it was in danger of bursting. They were both tucked under a protective arm. Grace had managed to stay sitting upright in her sleep but her head was tilted to one side. He had never seen her face in slumber and she looked far younger than the thirty-six years he knew she shared with him. Far more vulnerable than she ever looked when she was awake.
Maybe it was because she was a single unit with his boys at the moment that she was automatically included in this soft wash of feeling so protective.
So...blessed?
But then Charles stepped closer. What was that in Grace’s hair? And smeared on her cheek?
Chocolate?
A closer glance at the twins revealed unexplained substances in odd places as well. Charles could feel his face crease into a deep frown. What on earth had been going on here? Walking quietly, he went through the sitting room towards the kitchen and it wasn’t long before he stopped in his tracks, utterly stunned.
He’d never seen a mess like this.
Ever...
His feet were leaving prints in the layer of flour on the floor. The sink was overflowing with dirty dishes. There was a deep dish half-full of what looked like mac and cheese and a wire rack that was covered with cookies. Cookies that were decorated with...good grief...what were those strange blobs and squiggles with chocolate candies poked amongst them?
Ah...there was one with a recognisable shape.
A spider...
And then it hit Charles. Grace had been making Halloween cookies with the boys and clearly she had let them do most of the decorating themselves.
Suddenly, the appalling mess in the kitchen ceased to matter because Charles had glimpsed a much bigger picture. One that caught his heart in a very different way to seeing his boys sleeping so contentedly.
This was a kind of scene that he had never envisaged in the lives of his precious little family. Because it was a dimension that only a woman would think of including?
A mother?
Somehow, it wrapped itself into the whole idea of a home. Of a kitchen being the heart of the house. Of putting up with unnecessary mess because that was how children learned important things. Not just about how to make cookies but about...about home.
About being safe. And loved.
For a moment, the feeling was overwhelming enough to bring a lump to his throat and a prickle to the back of his eyes that brought all sorts of other sensations in their wake.
Feelings of loss.
And longing...
He had to cradle his forehead between his thumb and finger and rub hard at his temples to stop himself falling into a complete wreck.
It was too much. On top of such an emotionally charged day riding that roller-coaster between remembered grief and the very real celebration of his boys’ lives, topped off with an exhausting few hours of high-powered management of a potentially dangerous situation, it was no wonder this was overwhelming.
It was too much.
But it was also kind of perfect.
* * *
It was the gentle extraction of a small body from beneath her arm that woke Grace.
For a moment, she blinked sleepily up at Charles, thinking that she was dreaming.
That smile...
She had never seen anything quite so tender.
He