A Bramble House Christmas (Carrigans of the Circle C Book 6) (14 page)

F
inn knew every camera angle in the movie, every line of dialogue. So it was much more interesting to watch Willa than the screen. She was totally engrossed in the story, and as she connected with the characters on the screen, he could feel himself connecting with her.

He was done with trying to resist the attraction.

He loved that she cared so much. About her son. About this movie. And clearly, at one time, about Finn’s father. If he and his sisters couldn’t have been with their dad in his final hours, Finn was grateful that this woman had been there.

The mystery of the ring and the Bramble family tree that had preoccupied him so much this past while, no longer seemed to matter.

All of that belonged to the past.

Whereas Willa, and her son, they belonged to the present.

And possibly, the future.

The thought hit him in about the same amount of time it took to snap a photograph. And it left him stunned. He’d never met a woman yet who made him think farther ahead than a month.

But why was it so incongruous that a man who loved
It’s a Wonderful Life
the way he did, should be opposed to having a wife and a children?

The key thing, of course, was picking the
right
wife.

Scout woke up when the movie ended and the lights came on. He rubbed his eyes, “What happened? How did it end?”

“It ends with forty-three new angels,” Finn told him, winking at Willa.

“Seriously? That’s a lot of angels. Can we watch that movie again sometime, Mom?”

“Every Christmas, honey. It’s going to be our new holiday tradition.”

T
hat evening, after Scout fell asleep, Willa had a feeling Finn would be waiting for her in the sitting room, and she was right. Only he wasn’t sitting in his regular chair by the fire, but on the sofa across from it. As soon as he saw her, he patted the cushion next to him.

Happily she sat next to him.

She had no idea what the family problems were that had caused him to be so distant the past week, but today had been wonderful.

After the movie they’d gone to Bramble Park for a no-holds barred snowball fight, which Scout had loved. Then they’d had a nice dinner at the Graff Hotel where Finn had asked Scout why he liked the Everyday Sam books so much.

Her son’s answer had stunned her, in a good way. “Because grown-ups don’t think kids can do amazing things.”

“But they can, right?” Finn had replied.

“Yup. Like I beat cancer.”

That conversation kept replaying in Willa’s mind. She loved the new confidence she’d heard in her son’s voice. She needed to help him be proud of himself for fighting his disease, rather than feeding the image of himself as sick and weak.

“Want to tackle the Scrabble board again?” Finn asked.

Actually, she was pretty happy just sitting beside him. But she said yes and wasn’t surprised to find that Finn was a ruthless competitor, not above using two letter words she’d never heard of to make double use of triple letter squares. She retaliated with a seven letter word, earning a fifty point bonus.

When the game was over and they were putting away the tiles, Finn casually asked if she was okay talking some more about Scout’s illness.

The segue to a serious topic caught her by surprise, but maybe it was a good sign that Finn didn’t want to skirt the difficult subjects the way Jeff had. “Sure. Just let me run up and check on Scout.”

She found her son fast asleep, his breathing calm, his temperature normal. Thank God, maybe the cold would be a mild one.

When she returned to the sitting room Finn was settled comfortably on the sofa, his arm stretched out along the back, creating a space for her to sit. All he had to do was move his hand slightly in order to tuck a strand of her hair away from her eyes.

The little touch made her nerves pop and sizzle, just like the logs ablaze in the fireplace.

Willa wished she could just focus on how pleasant it felt to be sitting here with Finn. But if their relationship was to progress, he needed to know what she and her son had been through. And she needed to know if he was the sort of man who could handle the possibility that the cancer might reoccur.

“What would you like to know?”

“How did you find out Scout had leukemia?”

“A few months after his second birthday he began crying whenever I hugged him or tried to pick him up. I found out later that this was caused by a buildup of leukemia cells near his bones and inside his joints. At the time I just figured he was achy from the flu, especially since he began running a fever too. But unlike most flus, this one didn’t pass in a few days or even in a week. A few times I saw Scout curled up in bed, holding his head, and I knew he was in pain despite the doses of children’s pain and fever medicine I was giving him.”

Seeing Finn listening intently, she went on.

“I took him to his pediatrician and the initial blood test had her concerned. We had to go back for a bone marrow aspiration and biopsy, and when the results came back our worst fears were confirmed. Scout was diagnosed with acute lymphocytic leukemia.”

Finn’s hand settled on her shoulder, a warm and comforting presence.

“You must have been devastated.”

“That’s a pretty accurate description. I tried to be brave and strong for Scout. But inside, I was crumbling.”

“And Scout’s father?”

“Jeff came with me the day the pediatrician discussed the diagnosis with us. We’d left Scout with my mom, and the doctor laid it all out for us. The phases of treatment Scout would have to go through, the side effects we could expect him to suffer, and the risks he would be facing. I was the one asking questions and taking notes. Jeff just sat there like a zombie.”

“Useless asshole.”

Willa had to agree. “That was the last appointment Jeff ever came to. And a month later, he was gone, period.”

For a long time Willa had been angry at her husband. Not so much that he hadn’t been able to support her, but that he hadn’t been there for Scout.

Eventually, however, she’d had to let go of the anger. She just didn’t have the energy for anything but her son, and helping him get through his treatment program.

“How did you cope on your own?”

“My parents were a huge help. I’d been a stay-at-home mom when Jeff left. Without his paycheck—he was working as a music teacher at the time—I couldn’t even cover our rent. My parents helped Scout and me move into a small condo in their gated community. And Mom offered to babysit Scout so I could go back to work part-time. I couldn’t commit to a regular work shift at a hospital, so I worked for private patients, mostly in the night, so my days would be free to take Scout to his appointments.”

“Your husband didn’t contribute financially after he left?”

“Maybe he figured his contribution was our savings account and retirement funds. Those lasted about eight months.” She grimaced. “Because he had no fixed address, or job, I couldn’t garnish his wages or anything.”

“What about the medical expenses? Did you have insurance?”

“We’d been covered as long as Jeff was working. After that—it got complicated. I have to say, it really sucks to be stressed about money when you’re trying to help your kid survive cancer.”

A
s soon as he asked the question about medical insurance, Finn knew why his father had left Willa that fifty thousand dollars. It hadn’t been the confused action of a sick man. Nor had his father been somehow manipulated, seduced or tricked.

The bequest had been one final kind action from a man who had spent his entire life worrying more about others than he ever had about himself.

Finn felt as if his father’s guardian angel was whispering in his ear, telling him that his dad had been a good man. That he’d made a difference in this world. And one of those differences was helping a single mom cope with the medical bills of her seriously ill son.

“I’m so sorry you had such a rough go of it, Willa.”

“I was lucky. I had my parents. And I also had a very kind patient.” She held up her right hand, the one with the sapphire.

And the next thing Finn knew she was telling him the story of his father.

“Greg Conrad was dying of pancreatic cancer himself when I met him. I wasn’t in the habit of sharing details of my personal life with my patients, but somehow he managed to worm the entire story out of me, bit by bit, during the long, sleepless nights before he died.”

Finn’s gut wrenched as he pictured the scene she was describing.

“He told me he appreciated how kind and patient I was, but that he could see in my eyes that I was worrying about something. So I told him my son had only recently been cured of leukemia, and that it was hard to believe he was finally better. Harder still not to worry about the possibility the cancer could come back.”

“What are the chances of that happening? Do you know?”

“Our doctors are optimistic. But even if I had a ninety-five percent guarantee, it wouldn’t be good enough for me.”

“I can understand that.”

“The night I told my patient about Scout was the night he gave me this ring.” She gave it a gentle twist. “I had no idea he also called his lawyer the next day and had his will changed to leave me fifty thousand dollars. I would have tried to talk him out of it, had I known.”

“But I bet the money will come in handy.”

“I owe twice that amount,” Willa confessed. “So, yes, it will be very handy.”

Now was the time, Finn knew. He had to tell her who he was, and hope like hell she would forgive him for not telling her sooner.

He looked into her warm eyes. She was such a caring person. He hoped she would understand why he’d done what he’d done.

“Willa—”

“Hey guys, we’re closing up for the night.” Marshall looked in from the hallway.

Finn almost jumped. He hadn’t even heard the other man’s approach.

“The lamp in this room is on a timer, it’ll go out at midnight,” Marshall continued. “But when you’re ready would you mind shutting the glass doors on the fireplace?”

“Sure, no problem.” Finn checked his watch, surprised to see it was already eleven.

At the sound of his master’s voice, Ace roused himself from his fireside post, took a leisurely stretch, then followed Marshall up the stairs.

Finn took a deep breath, hoping the right words would come to him. But before he’d figured out his starting phrase, Willa asked him about his career as an illustrator, what had gotten him started.

He told her about the sketchbooks he’d carried around as a kid, and how, when he and his sisters had graduated beyond picture books, into chapter books, he’d made illustrations for the stories.

Willa kept asking questions. She wanted to know about his teaching, when he was offered his first publishing deal, which of his projects had been his favorite.

While she’d already heard about the Everyday Sam books, he told her about some of the other titles he’d worked on. None were as lucrative as the Sam series, but there were a few he was especially proud of, especially the one that had earned him a Caldecott Honor.

While they talked, he kept playing with her hair, loving the texture and the way the flickering light from the fire brought out various gold and copper hues. Then suddenly, the room darkened, and the only source of light was the dying fire in front of them.

“Oh, my gosh. It’s midnight,” Willa said.

Only then did he recall Marshall mentioning the timer on the lamp. He gazed into Willa’s eyes, wondering if she was going to say something about needing to get to sleep. But she didn’t.

Then he did what he’d longed to do, almost from the moment he’d met her.

He drew her into his arms, and he kissed her.

And just like that the world collapsed and all he cared about was the caramel taste of her lips, the velvet softness of her neck, the thumping strength of her pulse, which merged with his, as he pulled her closer against his chest.

Delicious, exploratory kisses evolved and became passionate and breathless.

He vaguely knew this wasn’t a good idea. It was late, but still possible for someone to walk in on them. More importantly, he hadn’t told her his real name. Willa deserved...better.