A Boy's Christmas Wish. Patricia Johns
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she saw less of him. His writing had been her passion, too.
“Where’s the star?” Beth asked as she got to the bottom of the box of ornaments. She looked around.
“Oh...” Her father scrubbed a hand through his gray hair. “It’s up in the attic of the store.”
“What?” Beth frowned. “Why?”
“I couldn’t fit it in the closet without crushing it, so I tucked it up there. I figured it would last longer.”
And Beth could understand that protective sentiment—it was the same star they’d used on their tree for as long as Beth could remember. Nothing exciting—plastic and tinsel. It probably used up insane amounts of electricity when they plugged it in, but it was tradition, and she was softened to realize that her father had quietly protected that star over the years. It was one thing Linda hadn’t gotten her hands on.
“I’ll get it tomorrow,” Beth promised. “You can still drive me to my doctor’s appointment, right?”
“Sure thing, kiddo,” her father said with a nod.
* * *
THE NEXT DAY, the doctor was kind and thorough. Dr. Oduwale was her childhood best friend’s mother, and when she was done examining her, she’d looked her in the eye earnestly and asked, “What do you need, my dear?”
“Nothing,” Beth assured her. “I’m fine. I’ve got Dad, and we’re sorting it all out. How is the baby?”
Dr. Oduwale assured her that all was well and they were simply waiting now. Well, waiting—and pretending she was more confident than she was, Beth thought... So she thanked Dr. Oduwale and tried to smile more brightly than she felt.
“Just keep your stress low and get ready for the baby,” Dr. Oduwale said. “Everything looks great. You’ve got to call Abby. She’s missed you.”
And Beth would call Abby...just not yet. She wasn’t sure how much more brilliant confidence she could pull off without cracking.
As Beth walked to the store later that day, she felt more optimistic—and this time it wasn’t an act. Maybe there had been more going on behind the scenes between her father and Linda than she’d ever noticed. Maybe she wasn’t quite as alone as she’d thought if her father had been guarding something as precious and fragile as a twenty-year-old Christmas star all these years by storing it in the one place Linda would never venture...
Deeper down, Beth saw something uncomfortable to acknowledge—unfair, even. Linda’s Christmases had all been spent around an artificial tree with memories attached to it that predated her. She’d bought some new ornaments every year—mostly representing things that mattered between her and Rick—and she’d put them on the tree in a prominent place. Beth had resented that attempt to insert herself, but then, Beth had resented almost anything her stepmother had done. Seeing her father look at that custom-made ornament of his book, she realized that Linda’s Christmases wouldn’t have been ideal. Beth wasn’t proud of that, especially now. A little bit of charity wouldn’t have killed her.
Beth found the door to the corner store unlocked, and she pulled it open and stepped inside. The warm air was welcome, and she rubbed her gloved hands together. Danny was sweeping out the corners where refrigerators used to stand. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He looked up as she came inside.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.” A smile crept across his face. “Cold?”
She nodded and pulled off her gloves, setting them on the counter. “It’s not too bad out there, though. Feels warmer than yesterday.” She headed toward the heater and unwound her scarf.
“Yeah, I thought the same thing. There’s no wind today—that’s the difference.”
“Must be...” Like everyone else in this town, they knew how to make small talk about weather. But Beth had more on her mind than the windchill. “Can I ask you something?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“How horrible was I to Linda?”
“When I knew you?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Danny grimaced. “She had a lot of it coming.”
That was answer enough. “So I was bad.” Even as an adult.
“You reacted,” he said. “Can’t really blame you for that. She pushed your buttons a lot.”
Still, Beth wished she had a little less to regret.
“I think it takes a special sort of person to raise someone else’s kid,” she said with a sigh. “Like a saint. I wasn’t fun when I was a kid. Maybe not even after I was grown.”
“You said you didn’t want to be a stepmother,” Danny said. “When Lana dropped Luke off—”
“It was a shock,” she said. “You’d never breathed a word about him before, and all of a sudden there was a child in the mix. What was I supposed to do?”
“But you told me that being a stepmother was too much for you,” he countered.
Beth sighed. “Being a stepmother is hard, Danny. You aren’t the mom that child remembers, and yet there you are doing the hard work. It is a big thing to ask. Starting a family together is a whole lot different than stepping into a role with a child already there—all set up to hate you.”
“He was three,” Danny said, his voice low. “He wasn’t going to hate you.”
He’d been young, that was true. But Lana had been part of the picture, too. She was that child’s real mom, and she’d be back—at least that’s what Lana told her when Beth talked to her on the phone later. She’d be back. That little boy and his mom complicated everything.
Danny returned to his sweeping. Beth unbuttoned her coat and scanned the ceiling. She spotted the dangling cord attached to the attic trapdoor. It was on the far side of the store, and she headed over there while Dan cleaned.
Beth reached for the cord, but could only swipe it with her fingertips. She’d need something to stand on. She looked around and saw a stepladder. She grabbed it and planted it under the attic door. Beth put her foot on the first rung. Her balance was different these days, and this being a stepladder, she wouldn’t be able to hold on to anything while she climbed. She stepped up another rung and reached up toward the cord.
“What are you doing?” Danny’s voice was suddenly right next to her, and she teetered, her heart flying into her mouth. She felt the stepladder shift under her foot, and as she came down, his strong arms clamped around her. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, and she was left gasping for breath.
She scrambled to get her feet under her again, and as she did, Danny let go of her, scowling down at her.
“Thanks,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath again. Her heart still hammered in her throat. That had been close.
“I don’t have the insurance to cover a pregnant woman climbing stepladders! What were you doing?”
“The attic trapdoor,” she said, pointing upward feebly. “I wanted to get up there.”
It seemed mildly foolhardy now, but what was she supposed to do?
“You could have asked!” Danny didn’t seem to be calming down at all, and he reached up and pulled down the trapdoor. A ladder unfolded and landed on the tiled floor with a thunk.
“Thank you,” she said with a faint smile. “Much appreciated.”
“So you’re climbing that ladder?” His tone didn’t hide exactly what he thought of that idea, and that baleful glare hadn’t abated, either.
“Danny, I need to get something down from there.” She shook her head. “Instead of yelling at me, maybe you could