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And this Christmas Keira would be on the other side of the world.
“Will you be getting together with your parents this Christmas?”
Ella shook her head. “No, we haven’t celebrated together for a number of years.”
Yes, Ella would be alone.
Not wanting her to see the compassion in his eyes, he turned away and started to hang the silver balls on the tree. But his mind couldn’t let go of the image of Ella stoically wrapping her treasures to give to her sister—so that Keira wouldn’t miss out on all the fun that went along with Santa. Was that part of the reason Ella seemed so humorless? Had all the fun been sapped out of her young life?
Perhaps...
All the more reason why this Christmas would be different for Holly.
As he made that vow, Yevgeny hung the last silver ball on the tree then stood back to admire their efforts. “Not bad,” he declared. “Let’s put the lights back on.”
“Before I switch the lights on, there’s one more item to go on the tree.” Ella was unwrapping dark green tissue paper from the object she held in her hands. “The ornament for the top.”
The wrapping fell away.
Yevgeny found himself staring at an angel. His first thought was that he would’ve expected Ella to choose a shiny silver star for the top of the tree. Nothing as personal—and as touchingly humorous—as this angel.
He reached out a hand to touch the angel.
“She’s even more beautiful than I thought she would be from the online picture.” Ella placed the angel in his hands, then hit the wall switch so that the tree lights came back on again. “She’s handmade,” continued Ella, as she straightened up. “What do you think?”
The angel wore a long robe of some kind of shimmery silver fabric. But, as Yevgeny held her up to the light, it was her face that captured his attention. Not beautiful. But full of childlike joy. Chubby and cherubic, the angel’s face was brightened by a mischievous smile.
“She’s perfect,” he replied.
As he reached up and perched the angel on the apex of the tree, Yevgeny couldn’t help thinking that in a few years’ time, Holly would be itching to be the one to put the angel on top of the Christmas tree.
But Holly wouldn’t be here...if Ella got her way.
* * *
Green. Yellow. Red.
The wash of light over his face didn’t offer any assistance with making Yevgeny’s expression easier to read. A mix of pensiveness...and some other emotion that Ella couldn’t identify clouded his face.
She hesitated, then blurted out, “Would you like to look through the adoptive parent portfolios that Jo dropped off with me?”
Almost at once she regretted the offer. Already he was frowning. She must be going soft in the head to believe she and Yevgeny could do this without coming to blows. They were polar opposites. They never agreed on anything—this was going to end up in one big battle.
But before she could cast about for a reason to retract the invitation, the cloud cleared from his face, and he said, “Oh, yes! Perhaps I can finally make you see sense.”
He flung himself down on the couch beneath the window and stretched his long legs out in front of him. Crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back, he looked far too sure of himself.
Taking in the picture he made in his suit pants and white business shirt, together with the stubbled chin and rumpled dark hair, Ella wasn’t sure whether to be exasperated or amused.
He looked quite at home...and it would probably take a bulldozer to move him out again.
But the truth of it was, if Yevgeny could see what some of these families had to offer a baby, he might even have second thoughts about his rash and selfish demand to keep the baby himself.
If Yevgeny reconsidered his standpoint, and accepted that adopting the baby out would be in Holly’s best interests, it would be so much easier for them all. If he was involved in choosing a family for the baby, Holly would come out the winner.
Buoyed up with fresh optimism, Ella collected the five profile files Jo Wells had delivered from the dining table, then seated herself beside Yevgeny.
“Those look heavy.” Unlocking his arms from behind his head, he bent forward to lift all but the bottom portfolio from her lap and set the stack on the coffee table in front of the couch.
“They are! They hold the whole life story—or at least the pertinent parts—of each couple.” Ella opened the first folder. “This is the hardest part for me, the first photo of the couple together. Look at their eyes. They want this baby, they want Holly.”
She paused.
Then, when Yevgeny remained silent, she added, “It’s the same with each profile. Every time I have to conquer a surge of guilt before I turn the page.”
