A Boy's Christmas Wish

“Granny strikes me as the stealthy sort,” Dan agreed.

“Where was she?” Beth asked.

“On Butternut Street.”

“That far?” Beth heaved a sigh. “We’re going to need to put an alarm on the doors or something.”

“But that’s not all...” Dan wasn’t sure how to say this delicately, so he figured he’d just plow right ahead. “She’s stuck on this idea that you and I are getting married.”

Color rose in Beth’s cheeks. “I’m sorry about that.” She shrugged faintly. “She’s been doing that ever since I got back. I must have sparked something.”

“Have you tried telling her the truth?” he asked.

“I did—when I first got back,” Beth said. “She was frantic, worried about me, obsessed with all the details involved with canceling a wedding... It only made things worse.”

“I was afraid of that,” he admitted. “So what are we supposed to do?”

“Play along?” She met his eyes uncertainly. “I know it’s a lot to ask. It’s the same idea as telling her that Grandpa has gone out for milk. It just seems to comfort her. It lets her stay in a happy place.”

“And our wedding made her happy,” he concluded.

“I never realized how invested she’d been,” Beth said. She smoothed a hand over her stomach, and he followed the movement with his gaze. “I mean, until her dementia got worse. With her mind going into the past like this, we’re getting to see how she felt about things...about people.”

“About me?” Dan said, smiling wanly.

“I suppose.” Beth laughed softly. “So what do you think? Are you willing to play along when Granny’s with us?”

Dan sighed. He didn’t want to, but he doubted Beth wanted this, either. It was reliving a painful time in his own life to comfort Granny during this confusing time in hers. But Beth was right. If they simply told her the truth, it would only upset her. It would be cruel to do that repeatedly.

“I could try,” he agreed.

“So could I.” Beth sighed. “I do appreciate it. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Dan shook his head. “It’s a weird situation.”

Beth turned away from him and opened a cupboard. She stretched to reach something, but her belly wouldn’t let her close enough.

“What are you trying to get?” he asked.

“Hazelnut spread,” she said, giving up. “I’m craving black forest cake like you wouldn’t believe.”

Dan shot her a quizzical look, and she shrugged. “Trust me, it connects.”

Dan passed her the hazelnut spread and could see her visibly relax at the sight of it.

“Pregnancy craving?” he asked.

“Cookies and cakes and carbs,” she said, unscrewing the cap. “Those seem to be my cravings, and this morning I realized that the one thing to complete me heart and soul would be black forest cake. Since I don’t have that, I’m making do. You want some?”

He shook his head. He didn’t know about this stage of things—he’d been long gone by the time Lana had been showing, and seeing Beth now brought back all those regrets. Beth smeared some spread onto a cracker and popped it into her mouth.

“So...” He cleared his throat. “Do you need me to do a bakery run or something? How urgent is this?”

Beth smiled. “I’m good. No worries. A few carrot sticks wouldn’t kill me, either.”

She dipped a spoon into the hazelnut spread and brought it up domed in chocolate goo. She began nibbling around the side of the spoon. So much for carrot sticks—not that he blamed her.

“How have things been around here?” Dan asked.

“With my dad, you mean?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Was it wrong of him to care? He’d been willing to join their family five years ago, and that had to count for something.

“Dad is kind of depressed,” Beth said. “As you’d expect.”

“Is he writing?” he asked. Rick had always been plugging away on something. His books took a couple of years to finish, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t constantly working.

“No.” She sighed. “I haven’t seen him write a word since I got back. Instead of facing everything at once, he’s tackling the problems he thinks he can fix. Like child support.”

“The father isn’t paying?” Dan frowned. “What kind of guy were you with, Beth?”

He still felt protective of her, whether he had the right to or not. At the very least, he’d expected that Beth’s guy would be head and shoulders above the likes of him, but if he wasn’t even supporting his child... At least Dan had done the right thing eventually. Maybe this guy would, too.

Beth sipped some chocolate hazelnut off the spoon, then licked her lips. “What kind of guy? The wrong one.”

“It isn’t that complicated to get child support,” Dan said. “I could show you the government websites that get the process started—”

“No.” Her tone was decided, and he stopped. “Does Lana pay you support?”

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I’m fine. I can take care of Luke on my own. Besides, Lana is in a rough spot—has been for years.” He paused. Her expression had changed. “What?”

“You told me about Lana,” she said. “You’d always said that you two weren’t that serious.”

“And we weren’t.”

“But a child together?” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t care if that pregnancy was planned or not, that makes things a whole lot more serious.”

Dan sighed. “You have a point, but emotionally—”

“Emotionally?” Her eyes snapped fire. “That’s semantics, Danny! I told you everything about my past, my hang-ups, my feelings, my hopes for the future. I was an open book with you. But you—” she looked around as if searching for the word “—weren’t.”

“The last I had seen Lana, she’d told me she had taken a pregnancy test, and she was done with me,” he said. “She never even told me when he was born. She told me about six months later, and she reiterated that she didn’t want me in the picture. It didn’t exactly feel real.” It was a stupid thing to say to a pregnant woman, and he knew it. “I was wrong, okay?”

“Yes, you were.” She nodded. “But you know what hurts the most? You didn’t trust me enough to tell me. You were a dad. There was a little person out there with your DNA. You had to feel something.”

“Of course I felt something!” Dan erupted. “And a whole lot of what I felt was shame!”

Beth didn’t answer, but the fire in her eyes dwindled, and she dropped her gaze.