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I was dead tired and ready to sleep off the night I’d had, but I lingered, for reasons unknown. “You should drink.”
She turned back to me, her eyes showing the question she didn’t ask.
“That’s why I always drink before bed.”
“You have nightmares too?”
I lowered myself onto the couch beside her, my hands coming together between my knees. “Always.”
“What are your nightmares about…if you don’t mind me asking?”
The second I was this close to her, I could smell her perfume. It was some floral scent, something new because I didn’t recognize it. Must have done some shopping while she picked up the groceries. “Before everything that happened with Claire, it was always someone from my past coming back to haunt me.” I couldn’t say the details, not out loud. Not even think them. “By hurting Claire…” I cleared my throat and brushed it off. “But now, my little girl in angel wings…surrounded by those freaks…crying for her father to come save her.”
Her hand instantly went to my back, stroking across my shoulders then down my spine. “What do you do?”
“The drunker I am, the easier it is to go back to sleep and forget it ever happened.” I grabbed the decanter, refilled my glass, and then handed it to her. “Therapy. Drugs. None of it is as effective as a bottle.”
She looked down into the glass before she took a sip.
I got to my feet and headed to the hallway. “You’ll have to drink more than that for it to work.”
A Christmas movie was on the TV, and the small speaker on the entertainment center blasted a playlist of popular Christmas songs. The once-bare tree was now covered with white lights that wrapped all the way around, starting at the base then moving to the top. Claire picked an ornament then found a place to hang it on the tree.
I dug inside the box until I found my favorite.
It was a picture of the two of us when she was five. She’d wanted to ride horses since she could talk, so I’d put her on a saddle and held her in place on one of our horses at our home in the countryside. The picture had been on my nightstand ever since—until she stole it and took it to school to turn it into an ornament. Now it hung inside a papier-mâché wreath that she made. I used to like looking at it every single day in my bedroom, but now I looked forward to pulling it out of the box this time every year.
Constance must have noticed because she took the seat beside me and looked at the ornament. “Aww, that’s a cute picture.” Her hand instinctively went to my wrist, her touch warm, a bit affectionate. When she realized what she was doing, she retracted her hand. “Where are you going to hang it?”
“Daddy, right here.” Claire pointed at the bottom, where it would hang a couple inches off the floor.
“How about here, sweetheart?” I walked up to the tree and hung it higher, at my shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess that’s okay.” Claire went to the box to grab another ornament.
Constance gave a chuckle. “I can see who runs the show around here.”
I hung the ornament in place then watched Claire move to the platform I’d built for her. I’d always been aware of my surroundings, but after I became a father, that focus deepened to an extraordinary level. Her foot moved to the step, but it was just her toes, so before she could fall, I caught her. My hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up so she wouldn’t slip.
It all happened so quickly that she didn’t even notice. She rose on her tiptoes so she could hang the ornament as high as possible. “How’s that?”
“Very nice, sweetheart.”
She stepped down and retrieved another ornament.
Constance watched us with a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, marshmallows floating on top. There was a brightness in her eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time, like spending the holiday season with my daughter truly brought her joy.
Why didn’t it ever bring Beatrice joy?
Claire carried a reindeer ornament to Constance. “Want to hang it up?”
“Honey, that’s so sweet.” Constance gave her a one-armed hug and rubbed her back. “But you and your dad should do this together. I’m happy to watch.”
“Come on.” I gave a nod toward the tree.
Constance switched her gaze to me.
“There’s a good spot right here.” I pointed to an opening between various ornaments.
Claire tugged on her arm. “Yeah!”
Constance moved her mug away, expertly preventing a spill as if she’d been taking care of a child as long as I had. “Alright.” She took the ornament then came to me, examining the reindeer as it spun on the hook. “Here?”
I nodded.
She rose on her tiptoes and raised her arms in the air, the curve in her back deepening in the process.
