He drove her home after that, and she thanked him for the gift again. She was still wearing it, and she smiled as she pulled up her sleeve and admired it again. “Thank you, Cal. I really love it.”
“I'm glad,” he said with a look of pleasure. “I love my briefcase.”
“We're going to be the two fanciest people in the office,” she said, smiling.
“What are you going to do if you can't go home?” he asked, worried about her.
“Cry,” she said, and then laughed ruefully. “What can I do? If they close the airport, or cancel my flight, there isn't a damn thing I can do about it.”
“If that happens, I want you to spend Christmas Eve with us. I don't want you sitting alone here.”
“Thank you, Cal, I appreciate it. But hopefully, I'll get out tomorrow.”
“I hope so too. But just in case … I don't want you sitting around feeling sorry for yourself all alone in your apartment.”
“I won't. I promise. I'll feel sorry for myself at your house.” They both laughed, but she was desperate to get out, and he knew it.
But no matter how desperate she was, the next day the snow was still falling in New York, and by nine A.M. on the West Coast, noon in New York, they had closed Kennedy Airport. She managed to reach Steve at the hospital, and he was disappointed, but philosophical about it.
“You'll get here sooner or later, sweetheart. We'll just have to postpone Christmas till you get here. What are you going to do tonight?”
“I don't know. The Dows said I could come over if this happened.” She didn't have any other friends there. She hadn't had time to meet other people yet, she had been too busy at the office.
“At least you'll be with kids,” he said, but she could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't overly pleased about it. But he could hardly expect her to spend Christmas Eve alone, and he didn't say anything to her. He was going to stay on at the hospital. He didn't want to be alone either. And most of the staff was working.
Cal had heard on the news that the airports were closed, and before he left at noon, he reminded her of his invitation. He was going to do some errands with the kids that afternoon, and he told her to come over around four o'clock, they'd be home then.
She arrived with a huge can of caramel popcorn for them, and candied apples, and the kids dove into them with glee. They sat around the tree in Cal's living room, and he put on a CD of Christmas music. She shared an early dinner with them that night, and afterward the kids went to their rooms, Cal lit a fire for them, and the two of them sat talking about Christmas and their youth and childhoods. He told her his mother had died when he was a child, and how hard the holidays had been for him after that, and she began to understand how loath he was to make a commitment to women. As far as he was concerned, although he didn't express it that way, women always deserted him, one way or another.
“Did your father ever remarry?” she asked with interest.
“Not until I was grown up. My stepmother and he died a long time ago. I have no family other than my children.”
“I only have Steve. He has no family either. I think that's why he wants kids so much, to form a family of his own. I guess I'm unnatural because I don't want them.”
“Not necessarily. Maybe you're right for you. But that's why I wanted children of my own. I wanted the perfect family, and I have it now … I just picked the wrong wife,” he said, helping himself to a handful of her popcorn.
“Your kids are great,” she said, eating some too, and he looked at her from where he sat, the room was warm, and the fire was crackling softly.
“You're pretty great, too,” he said softly. He hadn't expected to spend Christmas with her. It was nice to have an adult to talk to, and she was grateful not to be alone in her apartment. She didn't know what to make of the compliment, and she just looked at him, and then stared into the fire, thinking of Steve. She really missed him. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Merrie …I'm sorry.”
“You didn't,” she said, looking back at him again. “I was just thinking … about you … and Steve … and how different you are. You're both very important to me, for very different reasons. I love the way you and I work together. I love a lot of things about you.” It wasn't what she had meant to say to him, but it was true. She admired him a great deal, and enjoyed his company, they shared so many of the same views, and through their work and their styles, they had so much in common. In some ways, more than she had with Steve. One of the things she had always enjoyed with Steve was how opposite they were, they seemed to complement each other. But with Cal, it was more of a synchronicity, a similarity they shared, that made it so easy for them to be together. “I'm so comfortable with you.”
“I've never been as comfortable with anyone in my life,” he confessed, sharing her opinion. “It's what marriage should be, and usually isn't. At least mine wasn't.”
“Steve and I have always been best friends. But now I feel that way with you too.” She felt a little disloyal to Steve when she said it.
“Maybe that's not such a bad thing, since we spend so much time together. Most people spend more time with their business partners and secretaries than they do with their spouses.” They both smiled at that, and she helped herself to more popcorn. “Will you come to church with us tonight, Meredith? We go to midnight mass at Saint Mark's.”
“I'd like that.” She had always been a churchgoer, and Steven had never been religious.
They sat and talked for a long time, and at a quarter to twelve he rounded up the children. Andy was half asleep, but he wanted to go anyway. And the five of them drove to Saint Mark's in Cal's car. Andy was asleep in the backseat when they got there. Cal picked him up and carried him in, and set him down gently on the pew next to his sisters, and never woke him. The girls were serious and sang the hymns, and she and Cal shared a prayerbook and a hymnal. It was a lovely service, and she glanced at him once or twice, and he smiled at her. He had a deep melodic voice, and their voices rose in unison as they sang “Silent Night” together. And afterward, they walked back to the car, and it was an odd feeling being with them. It was as though she belonged there, with his little family. It was a strange illusion, and she was quiet when he dropped her off that night. He took her upstairs, and walked her into the apartment, to make sure she was all right, and he said not a word to her, he simply pulled her gently into his arms and kissed her. And without hesitating, she kissed him back, and he held her in his arms for a long moment, and then looked at her, and was startled to see her crying.
“I'm sorry … I don't know what's happening to me, Cal … I feel like my whole world is starting to come apart, I'm part of a whole new life here, and I'm not even sure if I belong here.”
“I shouldn't have done that, Merrie … I'm sorry….” It had just felt so right, to both of them, for an instant. But one kiss could lead them into a world that they both knew they had no right to. “I'm really sorry. … It won't happen again. … I think I kind of lost it for a minute.”
“Me too,” she said softly. There was so much about him that she liked, but she had no right to any of it, and she knew it. “I think the holidays make everyone a little nuts,” she reassured him. “They make everyone think about what they don't have, and think they should. Being with your kids tonight almost made me feel like I want a baby.”
“Maybe you do,” he said gently. But she only shook her head. What she couldn't say to him was that the baby she had suddenly wanted was his, not Steven's. And she didn't understand the feeling. Suddenly everything in her life seemed topsy-turvy. And all she knew was that she had to get back to Steven before they lost each other. For the first time, she was afraid that they would, or might, or could, and feeling that was terrifying for her.