“…Yes.”
“Just go along for the ride. Your life will be much, much easier. I promise.”
He huffed out a breath and scanned the room again. The living room of Woodward House always sunk under the weight of its own grandeur. Its stark beauty reflected its self-importance in its thick brocade furnishings and expensive finishes. The entire house suffered this design style; the office Clark holed himself up in, untouched by Kate’s magical Christmas hands, was a sea of dark shadows and leather chairs. He glanced around this room. The new décor was—dare he say it?—tasteful. Small touches of holiday décor accented the mantelpieces and end tables, while a simple wreath hung above the fireplace. Even the Christmas tree was mercifully undecorated, strung with only simple garlands of white fairy lights. On the one hand, he resented the intrusion of brightness and levity to his dark world. On the other, could he really go back to his small room and listen to their laughter and song, knowing all the while he could be a part of it if he only said yes? Was he really content to sit in the darkness when light was just a step away? He knew he couldn’t return to the shadows.
He just didn’t want anyone else to know that.
Besides, the threat of memories in this place was too strong. Every corner of this house reminded him of the time before, of when he had a family here, when this season actually meant something to him. If he stayed here with Kate and her friends, then at least he’d have a distraction.
Steady as a tree, he returned to the fold of the living room party. He never once let his expression slip, but Kate seemed to see straight through him, as she had from the moment they met. She didn’t look at him with judgment, though. There was something else in her soft tone. Understanding? Acceptance? Clark couldn’t tell and maybe he didn’t want to. All he wanted was one uncomplicated day in the sun.
“Any requests?” she asked.
“I’m not singing. But I will stay.” He tacked on another claim, just in case she thought she’d won something in this exchange. “Just to make sure you don’t burn the house down.”
A single nod and quiet smile were his only reward from Kate.
Emily picked up the slack. Popping up from the couch, she declared, “Great idea. I’ll get you some eggnog after all.”
Chapter Six
Halfway through “Good King Wenceslas,” the clock above the fireplace struck noon, sending a chorus of chiming bells announcing the time into the room and disturbing the natural melody of their carol. If all had actually gone to plan and Michael hadn’t screwed the entire thing up, they would have just been welcoming Clark to the house right about now.
Kate structured her original plan, with its intricate, timed details, to act in the same manner as a whirlwind. They were meant to sweep Clark from one themed activity to another, whipping him into a happy Yuletide frenzy. She’d added Christmas caroling as a last-minute effort to kill time before Emily arrived, and though it wasn’t a part of the original plan, Kate thought it fit right in. Clark stood at the end of the piano, doing his best to look every bit as stoic as a Mr. Darcy reenactor, but every once in a while, Kate would look up at him from under her eyelashes and catch him mouthing a phrase of a song before catching himself and pretending it never happened.
He thought no one saw his slip-ups. He was wrong. Kate caught them, and they fanned the flames of hope in her heart, for her plan and for him. She tried her best to hide her triumphant smile behind a curtain of hair. Spooking him could lead to disaster; she had to play her cards right if she wanted him to keep opening up.
In the middle of the song, Emily shot to her feet, checking her phone’s clock against the one on the wall.
“That’s the time? Kate, we’ve got to go if we want to make it.”
“Make it where? Where are you going?”
If Kate didn’t know better—and to be totally honest, she didn’t know better—she would have sworn she heard a whimper of disappointment in Clark’s voice, but she dismissed the thought as soon as it came through her head. Sure, maybe some of his edges had softened. Flickers of humanity peeked out from behind his stony exterior. That didn’t mean he was suddenly an avid caroler, nor did he enjoy her company and want her to stay.
A stupid and exceptionally loud part of Kate’s brain desperately wanted to hear what Clark’s singing voice sounded like. Would it be thick and deep? Tenor and sweet? Would he be able to sing on key at all? She realized what a small thing it was, to want to know how someone sang, but she couldn’t help wanting it all the same. In her experience, though, the smallest things were always the hardest to get in this life.
“Christmas isn’t just a day for eating and eggnog,” she said, leaving the piano and her dreams of hearing Clark sing behind.
“Though eggnog is a big part of it,” Michael joked.
“It’s also,” Kate said through a laugh, “a day to do good.”
“Well,” Clark corrected.
“Not well. Good. Miller’s Point is a great town, but there are still plenty of families that need our help. Every year on Christmas Eve, we do a big donation of Christmas presents and provisions for them, but no festival means no place to give out the donations, so a couple of us volunteered to pick up the slack.”
One of the first thoughts Kate had after his announcement was for those families. Money was tight for her, but even worse for some families. Miller’s Point wasn’t a big town by any stretch of the imagination, and they didn’t have a poverty epidemic like
