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Surprised at Dirk’s comment, she turned to him. “Yes. All the charities I volunteer with are good works.”
He met her gaze. “You’re a good person, Abby.”
Slightly uncomfortable at the intensity in his eyes, she shrugged. “I’m no different than anyone else.”
The corner of his mouth hitched up in wry amusement. “You’re the most giving woman I’ve ever met.”
Ignoring the depth of his look because she quite simply wasn’t sure how to take it, she winked playfully. “Thank you. I try.”
“Why is that?”
“Why is what?” She wiped the metallic serving area with a washcloth, more to busy her hands than because of any spilt food.
“Why do you do so much for others?”
Feeling her face go warm, she shrugged. “My parents worked for Second Harvest. Both of them. It’s how they met. After they died, a lot of people did a lot of things to help me. I want to do my part to give back.”
“And?”
And she didn’t want to dig any deeper than that. Didn’t want to look beyond the obvious reasons for volunteering. “And so I have.”
“Why so focused on Christmas?”
She took in his confused expression. “My fondest memories of my parents all revolve around the holidays.”
He nodded as if he understood, but she doubted he did. After all, he still had a family who loved him, a family who craved to spend time with him and celebrate special occasions. A family he held at arm’s length despite their continued efforts to be close to him.
“The Santa suit you wore was my father’s.” She wiggled her fingers inside their plastic serving gloves.
“You mentioned that the day you loaned it to me.”
“He played Santa every year for various charity groups.” How she cherished memories of seeing her father dressed up, of him scooping her into his arms and telling her he was off to be Santa’s helper. Once upon a time she’d believed he really was Santa and just couldn’t tell her. The times she and her mother had gone with him had been magical. He’d always made her feel special, loved.
“Good for him,” the man who’d also played Santa for her said a bit wryly.
Abby just smiled, continuing her blast from the past. “Every Christmas Eve my father would put the suit on and put out my presents. He didn’t know I knew, but the last two years, I snuck up and watched.”
“You snuck up?” That brought a smile to Dirk’s face. “Okay, so you’ve not always been on the nice list.”
“Of course I have always been on the nice list. No way would I ever be on Santa’s naughty list.” She gave him an innocent look. “When my father had finished putting out my presents, my mom would offer him the cookies we’d made. My last Christmas with them, he pulled her into his lap on the sofa instead. They laughed and giggled and…kissed.”
“So you literally saw your mommy kissing Santa?”
She laughed. “Yes, I literally did. I thought it wonderful how much they loved each other, how much fun they had with Christmas. All I ever wanted was to grow up and be like them.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Yet you chose nursing instead of going to work in philanthropy?”
Abby stared at him, amazed at how much he saw. She had always planned to go into philanthropy. “My aunt was a nurse. She convinced me I needed career skills to see me through life. I wasn’t sure at first, but once I started school, I loved nursing.”
“And the philanthropy?”
“I love that, too. Nursing is philanthropic work in many ways. It makes me feel better inside.”
“Because you feel closer to your parents when you’re helping others?”
Abby wondered how he’d seen what she’d rarely acknowledged herself, that volunteering made her feel less alone. Particularly at the holidays, when she’d otherwise be trapped inside her house with nothing to distract her from the loneliness of having no family.
“Yes,” she admitted, “I guess it does make me feel as if I still have a connection to them.”
