Snowfall on Haven Point(95)

She wasn’t sure.

“Can we go in? My feet are cold,” Will announced, just as impatient as he was that first day she had stood at this doorstep, afraid to walk inside and face Wyn’s grouchy injured bear of a brother.

Only this time the injured bear was hers and she was afraid to face him for entirely different reasons.

She forced herself to set aside her turmoil to focus on her son for now. “Yes. Of course.”

They didn’t see Marshall when they went inside and Andie assumed he must be in the den again or his nearby bedroom.

As she had a work project to finish before the holidays, she and Will retreated to her bedroom. She was lucky he could entertain himself so well and was content to color or play with Sadie and the few toys he had brought along from their house, but after about an hour, his four-year-old patience wore out.

“I need a drink of water,” he announced.

She looked up, her eyes a little unfocused from staring at the computer screen. “Okay. But I don’t want you bothering Marshall.”

“I won’t,” he promised and left the room with Sadie at his heels.

A moment later, though, she heard the deep notes of Marshall’s voice followed by the higher ones of her son’s through the doorway Will had left open.

She wasn’t ready to talk to him yet, but she also didn’t want Will to pester him if he was busy. Needing a break anyway, she rose from the small desk in the guest room and headed for the kitchen.

She found both males leaning against the cabinet in almost identical poses—though Marshall was on crutches. They both held glasses of water and one of the sugar cookies she and the children had made the previous afternoon and they both wore the same guilty expression at being caught eating them when she walked in.

She tried to quash the little burst of tenderness but didn’t completely succeed. “We were trying to stay out of your way, as I assumed you would be working.”

“No need,” he said. “I was working, but I’m kind of at an impasse right now. I was just asking Will if he wanted to watch a movie. Wyn has a whole collection of Christmas movies, just about every one ever made.”

She thought of the work she still needed to finish and her own limited options for entertaining her son.

“Sounds like fun.”

“You can watch, too, if you want,” Will said.

“That sounds really nice. Heavenly, actually. But I’ve got a few more phone calls to make and need to finish my project.”

“You go,” Marshall said. “Meantime, we’ll be busy watching The Grinch.”

“I love Max in that show,” her son informed him. “That dog is almost as cute as Sadie.”

“Almost,” Marshall agreed.

“Can Sadie watch with us? She likes Max, too.”

“Don’t know why not,” he said.

The two of them headed into the den, talking about Whos and roast beast and looking completely adorable together, and she, with regret, returned to her work.

Sometime later, she looked up from her computer and realized more than an hour had passed since they started the movie. Where did the time go when she was working?

She stood and stretched, rotating her neck and shoulders, then decided it would probably be a good idea to see if Marshall needed rescuing from a boy and a dog.

When she walked into the den, she first spotted the cheerful Christmas tree Chloe and Will had decorated, with its humble mix of hand-cut snowflakes and paper chain garland. Snowflakes fluttered down outside, creating a picture pretty enough to use on a website.

“How’s the—” movie, she started to say but cut her words off when she spotted the two of them.

Marshall was sound asleep in the easy chair, his head back and his mouth open a little. Will was asleep tucked in next to him, his cheek resting on Marshall’s arm. Even Sadie was in on the napping action, curled up on the floor next to both of them.

For a moment, all she could do was stand and stare at them as her emotions bubbled over.

Tree houses and tire swings and birds’ nests.

Could she find the courage to embrace all the possibilities? The risks, yes, but also the immeasurable rewards?

His eyes fluttered open, and for a brief second, they were unguarded, vulnerable—and filled with a tenderness that made her catch her breath. Too soon, he blinked and seemed to awaken more fully.

“Some babysitter I am,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t believe I’m sleeping on the job.”

“Are you kidding?” she whispered back, her voice a little ragged as she tried to gather her jumble of emotions. “I can’t believe you actually got Willie to take a nap. He always has such a better day when he does, but he’s been claiming since he could string full sentences together that big boys don’t take naps.”