One More for Christmas(91)

“No, it’s on me, for not being braver. For not owning my decisions. I avoid confrontation.”

Gayle stirred. “There are many different types of bravery. You love without hesitation. You leap, even when there is no promise of a safe landing. You encourage your daughter to explore her world, but you don’t hold her back. You offer a safety net, but not a restraining harness. You made your choices and were sure of them, even when I tried to make you doubt yourself.”

“But now I understand why you were afraid for me.” Ella took her mother’s hand. “It makes sense.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t excuse it. From now on I will be respecting your choices, starting with your family life. He’s a good man, your Michael.”

“Yes, he is.” Ella sat a little straighter. “I love him... I respect him. I need him, but if something happened to him, I’d survive. It would be unspeakably hard, but I know I’d survive. I never doubted my ability to handle what life threw at me. I have you to thank for that. And I should have said it sooner. I should have recognized what you gave us.”

Samantha stood up abruptly, trying to get her head above the surface before she drowned.

Was she the only one struggling to process all this?

“I have to—I’m sorry—I need air.”

Ella jumped up. “Are you—”

“Fine!” Samantha held up her hand like a stop sign and backed away toward the door. She didn’t want a hug. She didn’t want conversation. She’d already had more than enough, and now she needed to be on her own. Ella and their mother would bond and heal all those cracks, but she felt removed from it all. “I need—I just need—”

“Time to process.” Her mother caught Ella’s arm to stop her following Samantha. “Take as long as you need. When you’re ready, we can either talk, or not. Whatever works for you.”

She wasn’t used to her mother being so understanding.

She knew she still owed her mother an apology for the things she’d said that last time they met, but she couldn’t handle that right now. She couldn’t handle any of it.

All the things they hadn’t known—

All the things they might have done differently—

Her father—

She mumbled something, left her mother and sister to continue their conversation and headed down the stairs with no particular destination in mind. The emotions inside her grew, the pressure building until she was dangerously close to exploding.

Air. She needed all the air she could breathe into her lungs.

The front door was an escape hatch at the end of a dark tunnel, and she headed straight for it.

“Samantha?” Mary’s voice stopped her. “Are you all right, dear? It’s late to be going out.”

The door was a few steps away. Within reach. She had no energy for conversation. She had nothing left to give anyone. She’d reached breaking point.

She might have crumbled right there and then, but Brodie emerged from the library and crossed the hall in long strides.

“Oh hi, Samantha—I’ve been wondering where you were. Don’t worry, Mum. This is work. Samantha and I have plans for tonight.” Without pausing, he grabbed his coat and hers.

“Work? Plans?” Mary was astonished. “You’re going out? What about dinner?”

“We’re having a working dinner. Samantha is only here for a few days, and I intend to use every one of those days. If we’re going to turn this into a commercial success, then we need all the advice she can give us.” He shrugged on his coat. “She’s being generous with her time. I’m taking her for something to eat in the village—because that’s something our guests might want to do—and then I’ll show her the estate by night. After that we’ll go to my office to run some numbers. We’ll be late, so don’t wait up.”

“The estate by—night?”

“Yes.” Brodie draped Samantha’s coat around her shoulders and urged her toward the door. “I thought we could offer...starlight strolls.”

“Star—but Brodie they’re forecasting more snow, and—”

“My office is warm. We’ll be working out of there. Don’t wait up—we have a lot to get through.” Brodie propelled Samantha through the door before his mother could think up a suitable response.

She heard the door close behind her. Ice-cold air cooled her face and bit through her clothing.

She was grateful to him for removing the need for a conversation with Mary, but now she had another problem. She didn’t really want to be with Brodie, either. She didn’t want to be with anyone.

“I can’t—”

“I know. Don’t talk. I’ve got this.” He steered her toward the car, his hand firm on her back. “Don’t slip. It’s icy here.”

She stumbled, tears blinding her. She didn’t even care that he was there to witness it. She was beyond caring.

“Why don’t you—” He saw her tears and the breath hissed through his teeth. “Damn. Hold on. Just for a few more seconds.” He unlocked the car and lifted her into the car. “Stay there.”

He slithered his way to the driver’s side, slammed the door on both of them, closing them in.

“Seat belt.” He reached across her and fastened it. Then gave her leg a squeeze. “I’m driving us away from here. Then we can talk or not talk—whatever you prefer.”