“Forgive me, but I don’t know why Adam needed a nanny,” Joyce said, her southern drawl strong and thick. “We could’ve just come up earlier. Or, heaven forbid, he take an extra few days off to do something non-work-related.” Joyce’s gaze settled on the Christmas tree. “At least he’s decorated for Christmas, which is more than I’d expected.” Joyce’s distaste for Adam’s choices was evident, but she’d kept her face light, smiling and friendly.
Her own mother used to do that too whenever she didn’t agree with Carrie. If she’d decided to wait until night to do her homework, her mother would smile and say, “I don’t think that’s wise, Carrie, but if you feel you can get it all done, then so be it.” She wouldn’t say anything more, and usually, Carrie would spend more hours than she’d planned finishing her homework, getting to bed later than she’d expected. Her mother had always known the right answers, the right things to do, but she never demanded that Carrie do them. She’d always let Carrie choose herself. It didn’t take long before she realized that she’d better start her homework right after school just in case it took longer than she thought. Joyce was similar today. She was scolding Adam, but at the same time, allowing him to make his own choices, however misguided they were. The only problem was that Adam may not have learned from his choices. He may have thought they were just fine.
“Carrie did our tree!” Olivia said. “And me! And David. We made that pretty tree ourselves!” Olivia leaned on the sofa, bouncing against it with her hands. Then she tipped her head toward Joyce, her face right next to her grandmother’s. “Carrie made Daddy go with us to pick it out,” she giggled.
Heat swelled under Carrie’s skin. Was it even obvious to a four-year-old that he wouldn’t have come on his own? Clearly, it didn’t seem to bother Olivia, but it troubled Carrie that Olivia thought it was silly that her father had come—as if it were so out of the ordinary, that it was a ridiculous idea. She could feel the redness emerge like fire on her cheeks from worry for Olivia and David as she looked at Joyce. Adam’s mother was watching her intently, not breaking eye contact, and the change in expression made Carrie almost as nervous as Adam had. True, Carrie had done it for the children, but, she had to admit, that there was a tiny piece of her that wanted him around. He hadn’t given her any reason to feel that way, but she did, and she worried that Joyce could see right through to her thoughts.
“So Carrie made Daddy come, did she?” Joyce said, a smile playing at her lips. “Nobody makes your daddy do anything. Perhaps he wanted to go,” she said, letting the smile emerge for Olivia’s benefit.
Carrie had been so caught up in her own feelings, she never considered what Adam may have felt on the matter. Even though he’d been distant and uninvolved the whole time, he had come with them to the tree lot. Carrie thought about Joyce’s words. Had he wanted to go? The image of his little laugh before that smile came to mind, knotting her stomach right up. She pushed the thought away, knowing she was way out of her league.
Chapter Nine
To improve your personal life, try to make connections with new people. Carrie struggled with that particular line because she didn’t know how to go about making those friendships. But tonight, while Adam was still at work, she had a chance to do just that. Walter had pulled her aside, making conversation just for the sake of something to do, like all the elderly people she knew.
She’d told him where she was from when he’d asked, and he’d laughed—a jolly, chuckle of a laugh—because he’d grown up quite close to her town. He’d asked about her family and whether she missed them at Christmas time.
“I do miss them,” she’d said politely. She did; she wasn’t lying, but she really felt something other than homesickness, she felt emptiness at being in a home with a family that wasn’t hers when she really just wanted to have her own family. To her complete surprise, Walter had seen through her response.
“You’re a very sweet girl,” he said. “But I can tell something’s on your mind. I can also tell that missing your family isn’t what’s bothering you.” He shifted on the sofa, wiggling his right leg as if to get the circulation going. “But what do I know,” he smiled. “I’m just an old man.”
“I don’t know anyone in Virginia,” she admitted. “I’m new here.”
“Ah.” Walter didn’t say anything else, but he kept looking at her. It wasn’t a bothersome look; it was as if he expected her to say more, so, being thrilled to finally be able to speak to someone, she kept going.