Coming Home for Christmas (11 page)

“Thanks,” she told him, flashing the smile that he caught himself looking forward to seeing.

“No problem. Does that get me out of decorating that thing?” he asked, nodding at the house. They'd carried in the Christmas tree earlier.

“If you really don't want to decorate the tree, you don't have to. I can do it by myself.” It was a simple statement of fact and not punctuated with a pout.

He eyed her suspiciously and shook his head.

“What's the matter?” she asked him.

“I'm beginning to know you. You don't give up that easily.”

“I'm not giving up, but I certainly can't strong-arm you into doing it,” she pointed out. “That would be physically impossible.” She paused before adding, “But I do think you should decorate the tree.”

“Why?” he challenged her. He sensed that he was doomed and that he'd wind up decorating this tree, but he wanted her to work for it.

“Think of it as a tribute to your mother,” she urged him. “The women coming back from the funeral will find it very touching that you went out of your way like this to keep the magic of Christmas alive for her even though she's not here to enjoy it anymore.”

His face darkened. “Why would I want to pay tribute to a woman who dropped out of life? Who was so fixated on her pain, she didn't notice that anyone else was in pain, as well?”

So that was it, Kenzie thought. He hadn't forgiven his mother for not being there for him after Amy had died. He'd been hurting and his mother didn't reach out to him. Instead, she was trying to find a way to deal with her own pain. Both of them had been isolated without realizing that the key to everything lay within each other.

“Because she's your mother,” Kenzie insisted, trying to break through the wall he'd constructed around himself once and for all.

“Maybe that's not enough of a reason,” Keith fired back.

“Well, it's going to have to be,” she told him matter-of-factly.

With that, Kenzie left the driveway. After a beat, Keith followed her inside, albeit exceedingly reluctantly.

He would ignore her. If she wanted to spout nonsense and pretend that decorating a tree was going to change anything, that was her problem. Nowhere did it say that he had to decorate the Christmas tree he had been forced to buy.

He certainly didn't have to stay in the same room and watch her do it, either.

Just because he still didn't feel like going into any of the other rooms after all these years didn't mean he had to hang around the living room, watching Kenzie struggle with Christmas lights that always seemed to be knotted up no matter how carefully they had been put away the previous year.

He could go anywhere he wanted to.

Somehow, like a moth to a flame, he still managed to wind up staying in the living room.

* * *

Standing beside the tree that was still bundled up and lying on the floor, Kenzie could
sense
that he was behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see that he was just inside the room's threshold. But that didn't mean he was going to help her.

Kenzie worked with what she had. “Have you decided to supervise?” she asked.

The sound of her voice broke through the jumble of thoughts that were circling around his brain, as tangled as the Christmas lights always were, year after year.

“What? No, I haven't decided anything,” he answered. At this point he was just trying to resist offering to help her decorate the tree for as long as he could.

“Because you could, you know,” she went on, slowly drawing him in. “That way you could be part of it without having to compromise any of whatever principles you feel you're trying to maintain in this battle of dueling philosophies.”

Coming closer to her, Keith shook his head as if to clear it. “You know, sometimes I don't understand a word you're saying.”

Kenzie laughed, the warm sound wrapping itself around him. “That's okay. Sometimes I don't, either. But what I'm trying to tell you right now is that you can still maintain your distance—if that's what you want—but be part of this by telling me where you want me to put the various ornaments. This way, the tree'll get decorated with your help, but without you having to touch any of the decorations.”

“I have nothing against the actual touching of decorations,” he protested.

“Okay, if that's how you feel, wonderful. Touch away,” she encouraged him.

He looked at her, then started to laugh. “Do you have any idea how crazy that sounds?”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But it got you to laugh, didn't it?”

That was when he realized his laughter had been her goal all along. “Okay, you win. I'll decorate the tree with you.”

The exceedingly pleased expression on her face more than took the sting out of his surrender.

Chapter Eleven

“Y
ou do realize that I don't know where anything is?” Keith asked her the next moment.

He glanced at the tree lying on the floor, still tightly bound up like the hostage of Christmas Past. He'd made his peace with decorating it—he was here, Kenzie was here, the tree was here, and he had some time to kill, so what would it ultimately hurt? But the practical problem that now confronted him and this relentless Christmas elf beside him was the unknown location of these decorations.

“And by ‘anything' you mean...?” Kenzie let her voice trail off, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I mean the tree stand, the ornaments and whatever else that thing—” he waved a hand at the tree on the floor behind him “—requires.”

He had to admit that he expected Kenzie to throw in the towel when faced with this news. He didn't expect her to flash that dazzling grin of hers and then shoot down his eleventh-hour glimmer of hope. “That's okay. I do.”

Of course you do
,
 
he commented silently. Out loud he voiced his natural skepticism. If he didn't know where the decorations were kept, why would she? “How would you know?”

Her mesmerizing grin turned into a patient smile. “I took inventory, remember?” Then, before he could question anything further, she volunteered the ornaments' location. “The decorations are in your pull-down attic. As for the tree stand, that's in the corner in the garage behind the black plastic box of wires and extension cords,” she informed him cheerfully.

He knew he'd agreed to do this with her, but he wouldn't have forgiven himself if he hadn't given this one last try. “Look, if the decorations are all tucked away, why don't we just leave them there?”

Kenzie didn't even blink—or accuse him of reneging. “Because then the tree'll stay naked. Since we bought the tree—”

“And whose idea was that?” Keith reminded her pointedly.

Kenzie blissfully continued making her argument, pretending to take no notice that he had interjected anything. “It might as well be decorated,” she stubbornly concluded.

The last time he'd been in that attic, Amy had been filling out applications to different colleges. The memory brought a bitter pang to his heart.

“And you expect me to climb up into the attic and get the decorations,” Keith assumed.

“Expect?” she echoed and then shook her head. “No. I don't put demands on people,” Kenzie told him just before she left the room.

Now what? Was this a show of temper? “Where are you going?” he called after Kenzie.

Rather than returning, Kenzie just raised her voice so he could hear her answer. “Well, since I haven't figured out how to make decorations come when I call them, I guess I'm going into the attic to get them.”

The next second, he heard the door leading into the garage open and then close again. Kenzie had left the house.

“Darned woman,” Keith muttered under his breath, hurrying after her.

He walked into the garage just in time to see Kenzie lowering the folded ladder that led up into the attic. Balancing it, she pulled at the rung to extend the ladder.

“Move out of the way,” he told her gruffly just as she snapped the locks on either side of the ladder into place, strengthening it.

She wasn't sure what Keith intended to do, and she wanted to get on with decorating the tree. “But—”

“Don't argue with me,” he ordered. Taking hold of both her shoulders, Keith literally moved her to the side, giving him clear access to the attic's entrance above.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” she responded. She punctuated the innocent statement with an equally innocent smile.

He wasn't taken in for a second. Kenzie had orchestrated this, he thought.

“Ha!” The single word echoed behind him as he climbed up the ladder.

“Don't forget to flip on the light,” she called up after Keith. She positioned herself at the base of the ladder so she could take the various boxes from him as he handed them down one at a time.

“Whose attic is this, anyway?” he retorted.

“Yours,” she answered as if he was actually asking her a serious question. “I just thought that after all these years, you might have forgotten about the light in the attic.”

Maybe he had forgotten, Keith thought as he stood on the top rung of the ladder, looking around the dimly lit enclosure. Forgotten about the light—it still worked. Most of all, forgotten there were vivid memories attached to the things tucked away up here. Memories that in turn stirred bittersweet feelings within him, slicing through him like the whirling blades of a helicopter.

Kenzie shifted from foot to foot as she looked up the ladder. “Do you see them?” she asked, raising her voice so that he could hear her. He was being too quiet.

“Yes, I see them,” he answered, more to himself than to her.

This was a bad idea, Keith thought again. But he couldn't very well say anything because he didn't want Kenzie to think he was affected. He wanted her to believe that he could remain detached from all this. Her sympathy would be too much for him to take right now.

He especially didn't want her pity. Toughing this out was the only way he could keep up the image he was trying to hang on to. If he allowed his emotions to engulf him, he had no idea where it would all end up.

But it would be no place good.

“Do you want me to go up to help you?” Kenzie offered.

Was it his imagination, or had her voice softened a little? Keith stiffened, as if that could ward off any unwanted sentiment coming his way.

“The attic doesn't have enough room for two of us,” Keith bit out. “Not with all this stuff crammed into it.”

He didn't remember there being so many decorations. But then, he'd tried not to remember anything because initially, it had just been too painful for him. Amy's death had almost shattered him. She'd been the vital, happy one, the one who never became discouraged, no matter what.

After a while, not remembering was a better way to go for him. It was just easier to wipe his memory clean and pretend there hadn't been small, loving Christmases filled with laughter if not with presents.

“If you come down,” Kenzie said, “then I can go up instead and you don't have to—”

He turned just enough to look down at her from his elevated position near the top of the ladder. “Do you
ever
stop talking?” he asked.

Kenzie treated it like a serious question, pretending she didn't hear the sorrow threatening to break through in his voice. “I do, on occasion.”

“Can this be one of those occasions?” It wasn't really a question so much as a request.

Kenzie bit the inside of her bottom lip and really struggled not to say anything further. Not because she was insulted—she wasn't—but because in Keith's present state, although it went against everything she normally felt compelled to do, she had a feeling that silence would be easier for him to bear than bright, cheerful chatter.

He wasn't in a place right now where he would respond positively to banter.

So she stood at the bottom of the ladder, quietly waiting for Keith to hand one of the plastic containers of decorations down.

She'd almost given up hope that he actually would when Keith finally lowered the first box of silver-and-blue ornaments to her. He descended just enough rungs to cut the distance between them so that when she extended her arms up, she was able to take hold of the box.

Kenzie rose up on her toes as far as she could as she stretched her arms, angling so that he wouldn't have to bend down too far. The look Keith gave her silently told her she was trying too hard. Being Kenzie, she deliberately ignored the message. She was just happy that he'd come around enough to begin bringing down the decorations.

Every journey starts with the first step
, she thought, heartened.

The prolonged process of retrieving the decorations and handing them down the ladder lasted close to an hour. And once all the boxes were finally down, Kenzie turned her attention to the tree stand.

“I'm going to get some food and water ready for the tree, and then I'll need help getting the tree into the stand,” she told Keith.

He frowned. “Food and water? Room service for a Christmas tree?” he questioned, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind.

“The tree's a living thing,” Kenzie reminded him. “Every living thing requires at least water. Most require water
and
food. Plant food,” she explained, patting her skirt pocket. She took a packet out of it to show him. “When we bought the tree, the guy at the lot gave me this. He said it helps the tree last until after the holidays.”

Keith shook his head, negating her plans. “It doesn't have to last until after the holidays. As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't have to last longer than a few days. After that, I'm out of here and the tree winds up on the garbage heap, waiting for collection.”

She'd really been hoping that all this would have gotten him to change his mind, to stay awhile and at least begin to work through the anger and sadness she saw in his eyes. But he seemed determined to remain unhappy, to hang on to all those issues clearly haunting him.

“Then you are leaving right after the reception?” she asked quietly.

He did his best remain removed from her tone and not allow it to get to him. He deliberately blocked out the sadness he heard. “I'd be leaving right after the funeral if someone hadn't insisted on holding a reception right afterward.”

She let that comment pass. There was no point in going into it now. Instead, she approached the situation logically. “It'll be late then. Why not fly out in the morning, when you're fresh?”

The first thing that came to him was to say that he wanted to leave Bedford behind him as soon as possible, but she had been very cheerful and upbeat about all this extra work and without complaint—never mind that he hadn't asked for it. He owed Kenzie, even if he didn't say so.

Keith supposed a few more hours here wouldn't make that much difference. “Maybe I will,” he conceded.

Kenzie had already cleared away all the boxes he had handed down to her, taking them into the family room. When Keith came down the ladder with the last load, she took that box from him and quickly brought it into the house to join the others. By the time he had the ladder folding into itself and then neatly retracting into the ceiling, she was digging the tree stand out of the corner.

“About that help I asked for,” she began tactfully, holding the stand aloft.

Keith's response was a sigh, but he didn't turn her down or even offer any excuses.

Following her into the house, he looked down at the offending blue spruce. “Might as well get this over with,” he muttered, resigned. “Where do you want it?” he asked her.

Kenzie looked around the family room slowly, as if she had a vision.

“Where did you used to put the tree?” she asked.

Keith shrugged dismissively. “I don't know,” he responded irritably, then shrugged again. “Anywhere.”

She placed the stand down by the window, then looked over toward him. “Here?” It was a question, not a suggestion.

What did it matter?
He didn't want it here to begin with. “Good a place as any,” he responded.

“You really don't remember?” Kenzie asked incredulously.

Yes, he remembered. “It was the middle of the room,” Keith bit out, glaring at her. “Happy now?”

Kenzie didn't answer that one way or the other. What she did say was “Thank you,” followed by what he could only describe as a sweet, completely guileless smile.

The polite answer made him ashamed of his testiness and the temper he'd allowed to flare. But the woman was trying too hard to recreate something dead and not about to be resurrected.

Still, Keith told himself, he didn't have to be so curt. Apparently Kenzie couldn't help being a pain in the neck.

He blew out a breath, then murmured, “I didn't mean to bite your head off like that. Sorry.”

Kenzie moved her head from side to side as if she were actually testing her neck to make sure it was all right. “Still attached,” she announced with a wide grin that reached her eyes. “No harm done.” With that, she moved the stand into the middle of the room. “Just help me get the tree into the stand and then I won't bother you anymore.”

Keith laughed shortly. “Yeah, right. Like I believe that,” he said, resurrecting his facade.

Even so, he picked the tree up from the floor and carried it, still bound, over to the stand.

He moved so quickly, he caught her off guard. Kenzie hurried over to him as he carried the tree. “Wait, let me help with that.”

He refrained from saying that she'd only get in his way if she tried to carry the tree with him. “You just hold the stand still,” Keith told her. “I'll handle the tree.”

Kenzie could tell by his voice that he was straining. It made her feel guilty in addition to useless. “The tree's heavy,” she insisted.

She knew that despite the fact that when they had carried it into the house together, she had brought up the top while he had picked up the bottom part before she could say anything. The angle he employed while carrying it assured him that the brunt of the weight was on his end. Even so, she could tell that the tree was more than a little on the heavy side.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” Keith commented sarcastically, holding the tree still.

Kenzie had dropped to her knees and was moving as quickly as she could, tightening the stand's screws into place. The tricky part was making sure that all three screws were equally tightened, keeping the tree carefully balanced between them. She knew this couldn't be easy for him, keeping the spruce perfectly upright the way he was. “I should have called my brothers to come help.”