Christmas, Actually. Anna J. Stewart

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      “If she remembers this. If she never forgets what might have happened,” Reese said.

      “You probably know I’m an ER nurse in Boston. I’ve talked to a lot of people who pretend to feel remorse for things they’ve done. Tessie’s relief when she saw me was real.”

      “Jack already gave us that speech,” Reese said.

      “He did?”

      Jack shrugged but then moved so his shoulder touched hers. “Everyone in this room has faced people they have to trust or doubt,” he said. “I need to know patients aren’t lying about the meds they’re taking, or the extent and location of pain. Reese, here, has to judge every word an offender says to him. And Celia—she has to know when a kid like Tessie deserves probation or when she needs to be locked away.”

      “You believe Tessie, too, Jack?”

      “I’d put her on courses and community service to make sure she never forgets what might have happened, but I do believe she’s sorry.”

      Reese’s smirk worried Sophie. Celia nodded slowly, making notes on the pad she’d balanced on her knee. When she finished, she clicked her pen and rose, smoothing her skirt.

      “That’s it, Officer. Let’s leave these people to their evening. I’ll let you know, Sophie, if you need to come to court.”

      Sophie managed not to quiver at the thought she might still hold Tessie’s future in her hands. They walked to the white door together, but Jack stayed behind. Sophie tried not to look shocked.

      “They came up to the steps as I was walking away,” he told her when the two of them were alone. “I tried to leave, but I didn’t want you to face them by yourself. Reese has a reputation for being hard-nosed, and he’s not above bullying you to testify against Tessie.”

      “You tried to leave?”

      He unzipped his coat. “Do you think I want to keep getting involved?”

      “I’m glad you couldn’t help yourself.” She turned him toward the door. “But I’m tired and hungry, so I’ll leave you to stew over the idea that someday our daughter might do something, accidentally, that involves the police. And I’ll be her only defense.”

      His face paled.

      “I was joking, Jack! I’m a responsible person with a good job. I’d call an attorney.” As she eased him through the door, Sophie couldn’t help liking the shock on his face. The most detached man in the world had suddenly seen a future where his child might need him. It was about time.

CHAPTER SEVEN

      THE DAYS SLIPPED BY, and Christmas drew ever closer. Jack performed trauma surgeries, did his rounds and collected toys for children in the hospital, as well as those whose families needed a little help this year.

      Each afternoon at three, Santa’s sleigh, drawn by two massive farm horses, glided to a halt on the snow-covered green. Santa alighted from his seat and fell happily into the swarm of children demanding candy canes and chocolates as they offered gift ideas for themselves, their siblings and friends.

      Jack had started parking his truck a few miles east to avoid Santa and the adoring youngsters. But he couldn’t forget the old days, when he’d worked as an EMT during breaks from school. His ambulance had often sat on the green to be on hand in case of emergency. Sipping hot chocolate from a stand near his post, he’d enjoyed the shouts of a puppy for my baby sister and a little brother and a fire engine that shoots water. Some asked for video game systems with names that were already unfamiliar, because he was too busy to play any kind of game.

      Now, his friends would be taking their own children to see Santa, and next year, Sophie would likely take their baby to visit a Santa in Boston.

      Someday his little girl might be a pint-sized video game wizard.

      In a few days he’d be playing Santa at the hospital. His grandfather had done the job until he couldn’t drive the blue truck over there anymore. Jack’s dad had taken over, but this year, Jack had to fill in. He dreaded it. Happy children who had no idea what existed in the world outside this town pretty much unmanned him, but he couldn’t let them down.

      He veered toward the green, parking close to the square. Listening to the sounds of Christmas might help him brace himself for an evening as the hospital’s jolly old elf. It was the way he’d gotten used to being around families before he’d lost that little girl in surgery. He’d helped with rounds on the children’s floor, walked through the common, even eaten dinner out.

      He glanced at his watch. Five minutes before three.

      He reached the holly-covered fence just as the gates opened for Santa’s sleigh. Jack was about to walk through one of the decorated arches when he noticed Sophie, one foot on the fence’s bottom rung, laughing as the children surged forward in a line that snaked with their exuberance.

      The Victorian carolers that strolled through Christmas Town from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day burst into “Here Comes Santa Claus.”

      Sophie’s laughter was a temptation he couldn’t resist. She included him in her joy, as if she’d expected to see him. “Could they be more on the nose?”

      “The kids love it,” he said. Best he could manage when he was breathing her in, like a man starved of oxygen.

      “So do their parents. Look how happy they all are.”

      He always saw; it was part of his self-administered therapy. Families survived. Fate didn’t draw a target on everyone who dared to be happy.

      Sophie pointed to his scrub pants. “Are you headed for work?”

      He nodded. “What are you doing out here?”

      “I’m losing my cynicism,” she said. “This is the most holiday-loving town in the world. You people are genuinely excited to embrace Christmas.” She gave him a teasing, sidelong glance. “Well, most of you, anyway.”

      “You want to hear something funny?” It didn’t feel at all funny, with his throat closing up and his head aching every time he thought of it.

      “I’d love to.”

      “I’m the hospital Santa night after tomorrow. We give the children on pediatrics a Christmas party every year.”

      “You’re Santa?” Her surprise got under his skin, but he couldn’t blame her. “I don’t understand you,” she said, stepping away from the fence.

      Each time he saw her, he was more tempted to explain, but what if he said he’d try? What if he said that, deep down, he felt as protective of his child as she did, and that paternal compulsion had driven him to leave her and stay away? “Maybe I’ll see you before you leave town.” Cutting off whatever she’d been about to say, he headed for the truck.

      “Jack,” she said.

      He turned back.

      “I hope you imagine her face as you hand out each present.”

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