AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What changed then? Was it him or you?”
“That’s a good question,” Cara said. “I don’t know what happened. I thought we were good for each other, but after we were engaged he just became a lot more critical. He said he was just trying to help me, and improve me, but it was hurtful. What was wrong with me? Why did he now want to change me?”
“What did he want you to change?” Alec asked, entering the room and taking a seat on the worn, but very comfortable leather couch.
She glanced at Frederick and then Alec. “Let’s see. I needed to stop with so much takeout. I needed to learn how to cook. I needed to get on a fitness program so—and this is a direct quote, ‘you’d feel good about yourself on our wedding day.’”
“He wasn’t much of a gentleman,” Uncle Frederick sniffed.
“No, he’s not,” Alec agreed, tone somewhat savage.
Cara shrugged. “Even if I want to be thinner, or have a flatter stomach, the impetus for change should come from me, from within, because it’s what I want for myself, not because a man tells me how I should look or what I should do.” She looked at Alec, her gaze locking with his. “That was where I began to push back and have doubts about us. If the engagement was making Chet obsessive about us and how we presented ourselves to the world, what would he be like after we married? So I got cold feet. I was no longer comfortable with him or enthusiastic about a future with him.”
Alec didn’t immediately say anything and Cara felt prickly and sensitive. She reached up to push hair back from her face. “I have expectations for a husband as well, but my expectations are more about love and respect and communication than tasks and appearances.”
“You have it right,” Frederick said firmly. “Appearances change with time. It’s the heart that matters, and respect is essential. A relationship without respect will not succeed.”
The aunts entered the library then, and there was a shifting around, and after everyone had taken new seats, Alec went to let the dogs in so they could join them in the library for the evening.
Back in the library, Alec pulled up an old armchair from the corner. It had a massive oak frame, and thick oak legs.
“That looks very medieval,” she said as he sat down.
“It’s one of the older ones,” he agreed. He glanced around the room. “Would anyone like a glass of something? Port? Brandy? Liqueur?”
Everyone still seemed full from dinner and Alec remained where he was, with Albert wandering over to lay at Alec’s feet. Milo had taken up residence next to Frederick, plopping his head in Frederick’s lap and lapping up all the head scratches and ear rubs Frederick tended to give.
“What a lovely night,” Dorothy said. “It’s been a wonderful day. I hope we haven’t run you too ragged, Cara.”
“Not at all,” Cara said. “If I were home, I’d be in the kitchen, helping my mom, and assisting my dad with all of his wrapping. He always does it at the last minute, which means, I do it for him.”
“So who is doing it this year?” Emma asked.
“I imagine it’s my sister Ella. If he can pry her away from a book. She loves to read as much as Alec.”
“You don’t?” Emma asked, surprised.
Cara hesitated, debating if she should share that she had dyslexia and then decided against it. It had been hard in school, and she was still a little self-conscious around people who might not understand what it meant. She was by no means dumb or unable to learn—she’d graduated from college with honors—but reading remained a challenge. “Not as much as many in my family. My dad is a professor. One of my brothers is a professor. Ella has a graduate degree and will most likely end up going on to earn a PhD—”
“To do what?” Emma asked, confused.
“Teach?”
“Huh.” Emma looked at Dorothy. “I don’t see the pleasure in that at all.”
Dorothy gave Cara a smile. “So, what would your family be doing tonight? How do you celebrate Christmas Eve?”
“We’d have a big dinner,” Cara said, feeling as if she was on safer ground now. “Sometimes we’d go to church, and then almost always, either before or after church, we read Christmas stories, especially now that there is a new generation.”
“Who reads the stories? Your mother or your father?” Emma asked, glancing up from the basket of thread she had on her lap. She had been slow to begin her needlework tonight, but it might have been due to the fact that they’d all had some very nice red wine from the wine cellar and everyone was quite full and quite relaxed.
“Everyone takes turns,” Cara said patiently. “Each night during Advent, a different story gets read. We have a huge collection of Christmas books and picture books and we all take turns, picking out a story and then reading it out loud.”
“What a lovely tradition,” Dorothy said. “What was your favorite story to read?”
“I didn’t have to read a story.” Cara glanced at Alec, tried to smile. “I got to pick a Christmas movie for us to watch. I always tried to find a new movie if possible.”
“But why didn’t you read a story,” Emma persisted, “if it was a family tradition?”
