The December Market (Shelter Springs #2)

15

Though he knew he should be wholly focused on his son and this fun holiday tradition, Rafe couldn’t help watching Amanda out of the corner of his gaze.

She was uneasy and he wasn’t sure why.

Though she smiled as she chatted with her friend McKenna and with Lily Davis, Rafe couldn’t miss the slight, subtle shadow in her expression.

He doubted anyone else could see it. He wasn’t sure why he could tell, yet to him the hint of sadness was unmistakable. He wanted to pull her against him and tell her everything would be all right. That was silly, wasn’t it?

As the line moved slowly forward, she seemed distracted, her expression flitting from the other women to the children and back again.

“We’re almost there!” Isaac looked almost giddy at the prospect of taking a turn on Santa’s lap.

“What are you going to ask for?” Rafe asked.

“I’ll tell Santa Claus when I get there,” Isaac insisted, with aggravating stubbornness.

Rafe wanted to grind his teeth. Isaac had been oddly closemouthed this year about the main thing on his wish list. No matter how hard Rafe tried to convince him to spill the beans, Isaac insisted he only wanted to give the wish to Santa.

None of Rafe’s family members had any clue either, so the kid truly must want to keep it to himself.

It was enough to make a dad want to pull out his hair. How could he make his son’s wish come true if he had no idea what he wanted?

Finally, they neared the wooden chalet where he could see Eugene and Flora Murphy dressed in their Santa and Mrs. Claus costumes they had been donning since Rafe was a kid, waiting to sit on their laps to tell them about the iPod he wanted and the new baseball glove and the skateboard with the flared kicktail.

At the gesture from the elf assistant, Isaac raced over to Eugene-slash-Santa, beaming.

“Hi there,” Mrs. Claus said kindly, smiling back at the boy. “Your name is Isaac, isn’t it?”

Isaac’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“Santa tries to know the names of all the children,” she said. “And if he isn’t sure, I do my best to help him.”

She met Rafe’s gaze and gave a barely perceptible wink. He had to respect the couple’s dedication to play the role for two generations now.

“Come over here, young man,” her husband urged behind his big white beard. “Tell me about yourself.”

Isaac hopped onto his lap and Rafe and his father both pulled their phones out to take pictures. He noticed Amanda was hanging back behind his father, looking as if she wished she were anywhere else at the market but here.

“My name is Isaac Arredondo and I’m six years old. I have a dad named Rafe and a grandpa named Al and a grandma named Louise. Me and my cousins call them Ito and Abi . And my abuelo is named Paolo.”

“I believe I know your family. You have a good one, don’t you?”

He nodded vigorously. “My Al takes me fishing and my abi Louise makes the best PB and J sandwiches and Abuelo gave me a remote control car that goes superfast.”

Aware of the other children waiting impatiently for their turns, Rafe made a go-ahead gesture to his son.

“Tell me what you would like Santa to bring you this year,” Eugene finally said kindly.

Isaac sighed. “I have a lot of toys so I really don’t need anything. But if you have room in your sleigh, I would like a new Star Wars LEGO set and some new cars to drive on my carpet that looks like a road.”

Whew. At least Rafe had somewhere to start. He had already picked up a couple of basic beginner Star Wars LEGO sets and several new Hot Wheels cars.

“Can I ask for another thing?” Isaac asked with a furtive look at Rafe. “It’s a secret.”

“Of course, son.” Santa leaned down, and Isaac whispered to him for a moment, hand cupped over his mouth as if afraid someone would try to read his lips.

Rafe strained to hear but the noise of the crowd was too intense. He saw Eugene’s eyes widen behind his glasses and he sent a startled look at Rafe and then another one at Amanda, several paces behind them.

“I’m not sure about that. I can’t carry that in my sleigh, can I?” Eugene murmured, his voice low.

“Maybe not. But that’s what I really, really want,” Isaac said, his small voice vibrating with emotion.

“That isn’t up to me, I’m afraid. It’s not up to you, either.”

“But I’ve tried to be good this year, even when it was so hard . I practice reading out loud and I pick up my toys before I go to bed and I brush my teeth for two whole minutes in the morning and two whole minutes at night.”

“That’s a good start.” Eugene’s voice was everything calm and patient and kind. “That thing you asked for might happen someday but there’s not much you or I can do about it, I’m afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Isaac sounded dejected.

“I will see what I can do about the other things on your list. Now why don’t you give your dad and your grandpa one more great big smile so they can get a good picture?”

Isaac gave a smile that looked fake. Rafe almost thought he saw tears threaten, but his son blinked several times and they were gone by the time he hopped down from Santa’s lap.

“Dad, do you want to sit on Santa’s lap?”

Rafe cleared his throat. “That’s only for kids your age. I’m way too big.”

“He might still be able to bring you what you want for Christmas.”

For some wild reason, Rafe’s thoughts strayed to Amanda and it was all he could do not to look at her.

“I’m good.”

“Who’s next?” Eugene asked. “Miss Amanda, how about you?”

Rafe could see she looked startled. “I’m fine. Really.”

“You have to tell him or he won’t know what to bring you,” Isaac said, all earnestness and childlike faith.

“I will. I’ll come back another time, okay? There are lots of other children who would like their turn and I don’t want to make them wait in the cold any longer.”

Isaac looked as if he wanted to argue, but after a moment he sighed and slipped his hand in hers as they walked out the other door of the chalet. “I asked him for something I really want but he said he can’t bring it.”

“What is it?” she asked. “Let me guess. A giraffe?”

He snickered. “No. The reindeer couldn’t carry a giraffe on the sleigh. Plus, my house isn’t big enough for a giraffe. Unless maybe it was a baby giraffe.”

He sent a questioning look at Rafe, who quickly shook his head.

“Even a baby giraffe wouldn’t fit, I’m afraid,” his father said.

“Is it a new car?” Amanda asked.

He giggled with glee at that, any trace of tears forgotten. “I can’t drive. I’m only six!”

“Oh right. I forgot.”

“I can’t tell you, anyway. It’s a secret.”

The exit to the Santa chalet led straight to the Christmas tree, at least twenty feet high and brightly lit against the night sky. Amanda’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and so lovely he wanted to kiss her all over again, right there in front of the whole town.

“I should probably get back to the store,” she said with an apologetic tone.

“And I need to go back inside for a moment and make sure Izzy has everything she needs for the evening shift.”

“Dad, can I get a hot cocoa?” Isaac asked. “My friend named Hazel said they’re super yummy.”

“I can take you,” Rafe’s father told him. “Hot cocoa sounds great to me, too. I hear they can even add Baileys to it.”

“What’s Baileys? Is it good? Can I have some?”

Al grinned. “Probably not. That’s a special hot cocoa for grown-ups. You wouldn’t like it.”

“How about you get the one with marshmallows? I hear they have marshmallows shaped like snowmen,” Rafe suggested.

“I guess.”

Al took Isaac’s hand and with a nod to both Rafe and Amanda, the older Arredondo led his grandson toward the hot cocoa stand.

“Thank you again for coming with us. It meant a lot to Isaac,” he said to Amanda.

“I’m not sure why,” she said, her brow furrowed. “Do you have any idea why he wanted me there?”

Rafe suspected, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share that nugget of info with her.

Isaac had been asking more questions lately about his mother. Why wasn’t she in his life? What happened to her? Why had she left?

Did he do something wrong to make her leave? Or worse, did she not love him enough to stay?

Rafe hated those questions, though he tried to answer as honestly as possible to a young child with a limited understanding of the nuances concerning someone who struggled with addiction.

He gently explained that Caitlin had loved him very much, as much or more than any mother loved her boy. She had loved being his mother, but she had been sick and she had to go away for a while to try to get better. And then, sadly, she had died while she was gone, before she could make it back to them.

It wasn’t a lie, though Rafe was aware the explanation glossed over many of the darker points. He wasn’t about to tell a six-year-old boy the hard truth.

Rafe would have given anything to be able to give him another reason for Caitlin’s absence from his life. Cancer, a car accident, a sudden brain aneurysm. All would have been tragic and hard to explain to a child but without the undercurrent of guilt that Rafe still felt at not being able to help the woman he had loved.

Amanda was looking at him expectantly, seeking an explanation for Isaac’s request. He couldn’t be completely honest with his son but he would try with Amanda, he decided. No matter how awkward.

“Over the past few months, he has begun to notice that our family is a little...nontraditional. He sees his friends with their moms and their dads and has asked me why he doesn’t have a mother. He hardly remembers Caitlin. I very much suspect that might be what he talked to Santa about. Bringing him a mother.”

She frowned. “What does that have to do with me?”

He sighed, wishing he hadn’t started this. “Isaac likes you. He has talked about you a lot since that day his remote control car tripped you up at the Shelter Inn.”

He saw the pieces click into place as her expression shifted from confusion to astonishment. “And you think he wants me to be his mother? Why on earth would he want that?”

“Who knows exactly what goes on in the head of a six-year-old boy? Not me, certainly. But you’ve been kind to him. You are warm and nice and...pretty.”

He wanted to say breathtakingly lovely, but decided this was an awkward enough conversation. “I think he might have a little crush on you. I suspect he wanted Santa to meet you so he could know what to bring on Christmas morning.”

When she was emotional, embarrassed or upset about something, her cheeks turned the color of his mother’s favorite pale, delicate roses. Now they were even brighter, like two bright, flaming red Christmas ornaments.

“That’s ridiculous. Impossible. You can’t just ask Santa for a mother!”

For one contrary moment, he wanted to argue with her. Was it completely impossible?

He couldn’t say that, of course.

“Obviously.”

“You have to tell him he can’t ask Santa to bring him a mother for Christmas. It doesn’t work that way. I hate the idea of him waking up disappointed on Christmas morning when he doesn’t find someone under the tree who will...will make him cookies and tuck him in at night.”

Rafe knew he shouldn’t find that image so very appealing. Not so much the making cookies part, but the idea of someone being there for both him and Isaac.

Of not being quite so alone on this parenting journey.

“I’ll try to have a word with him. I’m sorry about this. It’s been a rough few years and we’re only now beginning to find our way.”

She started moving through the market on her way to the store. “You have no reason to apologize. He’s a darling boy and any woman would be lucky to be his mother. Stepmother, anyway. But obviously, we both know that woman is not going to be me.”

Rafe again was a little astonished at how much he wanted to argue with her.

“I will talk to him. You have to admit, it’s a little sweet, though. Right? I’m not sure anybody has ever asked to find me under their Christmas tree.”

She sent him a sidelong look, eyebrows raised in a skeptical way that made him want to smile. Amanda Taylor made him smile far more often than any woman had in a very long time.

“It is very sweet. I’m touched that he seems to like me. But he needs to know a...a mother can’t magically appear along with a LEGO set and new bike on Christmas morning.”

“I’ll talk to him,” he promised. “Thanks again for going outside with us.”

She shrugged. “It was nice to see how the queue for Mr. and Mrs. Claus worked from the perspective of the children awaiting their turn. I might suggest a few changes for next year.”

“Will you be the market coordinator again next year?”

“I haven’t decided. I’m still trying to make up my mind. Either way, I’ll leave extensive notes for those who might be coming after me.”

That was the kind of person she was, he thought as they continued walking.

In addition to being kind to his son and lovely as an April morning, Amanda was generous with her time and deeply invested in making their town better.

She was the exactly the kind of woman his son deserved for a mother.