A Christmas to Remember(47)

Carrie had thought about what Christmas would be like this year, and she had many questions after the way Adam had behaved last night. Would she spend Christmas morning in her room while the entire family opened gifts? Certainly she shouldn’t impose by being there. Not to mention she had no gifts to share. Maybe she could go somewhere. Were coffee shops open on Christmas day? Probably not. Why did Adam even want her there on Christmas when his entire family would be with the children? He’d taken time off, but was he actually going to be present?

“It smells fantastic in here,” Walter said, coming into the room behind his walker and changing the course of the conversation. Without his hat, he was bald on the top of his head, the only remnants of his youthful hair were a few haphazard strands that still lingered. The rest of his hair was kept short around the sides. Carrie tried to look past the aging skin and other traits that came with old age, like his overly bushy eyebrows, to see what he may have looked like in his younger years. There was a slight resemblance to Bruce, but it was difficult to tell, not knowing them very well.

“What’s for supper?” Walter smiled at Carrie, setting her mind at ease a little.

She enjoyed the family so much, and Walter was lovely. He was kind and quiet but direct at times. When they’d been playing cards, he was quick to tell everyone whose go it was, prodding them if they dared to make conversation instead of taking their turn. It was all in good fun, and he did keep the game going, that was for sure. Although Carrie would have preferred it to go on longer. He was patient as Bruce and Eric helped him up and down the stairs, smiling in their direction and thanking them when he was safely on flat ground again. She kept thinking about Pappy and how having Walter there was a little bit like having Pappy back.

“Beef and cheddar casserole and salad,” Joyce said. She opened a drawer, studied the contents and shut it again. Then she opened another. “Where does Adam keep his serving spoons?” she asked herself out loud.

“Oh, here,” Carrie batted at a drawer pull with her elbow, her hands wet and full of lettuce. She dropped the leaves into a large, striped bowl and flicked the water off her hands into the sink. That bowl looked far too pretty and delicate for Adam’s taste, and she wondered if it had been a remnant from his now dissolved marriage.

“How’s Sharon?” Walter asked. Carrie was glad to get back to the topic of Sharon’s wellbeing. She wanted to know what was going on with her, but it wasn’t her place to ask.

“She was resting when I left her.” Joyce dug the serving spoon into the casserole. “I thought bringing her here would get her out, get her mind off it all.” The worry on Joyce’s face was striking, and Carrie thought to herself how that particular look could only come from a mother’s love. She’d come close herself when things had happened to children to whom she’d been very attached, but the only person who could really show that type of worry was a mother protecting her children. Joyce’s thin lips, which were usually turned up into a friendly grin, were pressed together, turned down, the skin between her eyes creased in a way that made it seem like those creases came easily—they’d been there before this moment. Three long lines—years of concern for the wellbeing of her children—were etched across her forehead.

Carrie considered leaving the room to give them privacy, but Joyce handed her a cutting board and a tomato, so she walked to an area of the counter where she could have her back to them and pretend not to listen. She was definitely pretending not to listen because she wanted to hang on every word, find out why Sharon had been so hurt and angry with Adam, and why Adam seemed to anticipate it. Surely, something big had gone on between them, and she was dying to know what it was, even though it was so clearly none of her business.

“It’s not like when the kids were little,” Joyce said. “If we’d had a tough week, Bruce and I would pile Adam and Sharon into the car, and we’d go on a trip somewhere, just the four of us—all our worries gone for the weekend.” She added the cucumber to the lettuce by scraping her knife along the cucumber-filled plate, each slice sliding down until it dropped into the bowl. “It’s different now. Sharon’s experiencing adult problems, not kid ones, and a trip away won’t solve them. As a mother, I want to fix it, and I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking.

Almost as a reflex, Carrie turned around to console her but caught herself. She had no business prying into their lives, but the urge to help was strong for Carrie. Joyce had noticed and she smiled weakly, her eyes showing thanks. Carrie had had a relatively easy life—she hadn’t had any major obstacles other than her working life interfering with her social life. She’d had nothing that would put a look on her face like Sharon had had. What could possibly make her like that? Her family was all so supportive and sweet, she couldn’t imagine they’d done anything. Even Adam, who clearly preferred to work, couldn’t possibly be hurtful enough to cause the kind of pain on her face. It just didn’t seem in his character.