Merry Christmas

She hooked her arm around his and felt his muscles harden as her hand slid over them. It made her feel skittish, uncertain if he was inwardly recoiling from her touch or reacting to it in the way he once had. Though it was madness to think of that now when so much else was at stake. Besides, the quickly sparked desires of youth hardly fitted into this picture.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t help being extremely aware of him as he matched his steps to hers in their walk to the living room. Her upper arm was tucked against the warm wall of his chest and their hips and thighs brushed, arousing little shivers of sensitivity that sharply reminded her of how intimate they had once been.

Breathing in his aftershave lotion—surely the same tangy scent he’d used then—tickled her nostrils, evoking the memory of how he’d brought all her senses incredibly alive that summer. Every smell had seemed exotic, every colour brighter, every sound magnified, every taste heightened, every touch...Meredith fiercely clamped down on that line of thought. It was stirring feelings she couldn’t afford.

It was a relief when Nick Hamilton deposited her on the sofa and dropped all physical contact with her. He took off so briskly for the kitchen, Meredith suspected it was a relief for him to have some distance between them, too, though his reasons were undoubtedly different. Getting on with the business he’d come about would be very much on his mind.

She watched him taking inventory of the contents of her refrigerator and called, “A sandwich will do. There’s bread in the fridge.”

Decisive and efficient in his movements, he set out a loaf of bread, butter, a packet of sliced cheese and tomatoes, then switched on the griller at the top of the stove. He was certainly kitchen trained, Meredith thought, and wondered how much he fended for himself. Was he married?

However pertinent the question was in the circumstances, Meredith shied away from it, reluctant to picture him with a wife. Then she remembered the misery of trying to get along with her stepmother and wondered if Kimberly was suffering the same problem, having lost the parents who had brought her up and then been landed on a woman who had no deep caring for her, a woman who was only there because she was attached to Nick Hamilton.

Meredith knew from first-hand experience how unwanted a girl of Kimberly’s age could feel, given such a situation. And it stood to reason that something had to be prompting the desire to meet her real mother. It also stood to reason that a man as attractive as Nick Hamilton would not be without a woman.

Another question sprang to mind. How did Kimberly know about her? Surely it would be uncharacteristic of Denise Graham to reveal anything about Kimberly’s real mother to the child she was bringing up as her own daughter. It struck Meredith that Nick Hamilton might have more to answer for than he’d like to admit.

“How long has Kimberly known she was adopted?” she asked, feeling the knowledge had to have come after the death of her adoptive parents.

“She found out a week before the car accident that killed Denise and Colin,” he answered flatly.

Found out? Dear Heaven! Had the resulting upset contributed to the accident?

Nick Hamilton’s dark gaze lifted briefly from the bread he was buttering, a heavy sadness dulling his eyes. “Apparently Denise was sorting through photographs and discussing with Colin which ones to send to you. Kimberly overheard them and pieced the information together.” He frowned. “She has a bad habit of eavesdropping. Perhaps being an only child...no sibling to talk to...”

“Did she confront them with it?” Meredith broke in anxiously, imagining the guilt her daughter might feel if there’d been arguments.

He shook his head. “She wanted to think about it. Work out what it meant to her.”

A lot of inner turmoil there, Meredith thought, though it was a relief to learn there had been no open conflict for which Kimberly might blame herself.

“Then her world came crashing down,” Nick Hamilton continued, “and there were so many changes for her to take on, I guess she clung to what was safely familiar rather than pursue what probably seemed like an intangible dream.”

“So you didn’t talk to her about it?”

“I thought it better not to. She had enough trauma losing one set of parents, let alone two.” He grimaced. “She kept it to herself until a few days ago.”

Holding such a big secret all that time...holding it in reserve, Meredith thought, and wondered how often her daughter might have fantasised about another life as she tried living with the man who had been legally appointed her guardian, a man who was only an uncle by adoption. Or did Kimberly instinctively feel more closely bonded to him...her real father?

Was there an innate tie of blood, whether it was known or not? Would her daughter feel she was a total stranger or would there be an instant, intuitive link between them? The need to know pounded through Meredith, bringing a wave of excitement, of almost unbearable anticipation. It was difficult to contain it but she sternly told herself she had to while a meeting was still not settled.

She watched the only man she had ever loved place the sandwiches he was intent on toasting under the griller and tried to imagine what he was feeling about Kimberly’s request, coming virtually out of nowhere. He would not have been prepared for that, either. But Nick Hamilton was no dodger of delicate issues. He faced them and dealt with them according to his sense of rightness. It was that very quality of character Meredith had implicitly believed in when she had found herself pregnant.

“You think a rich college boy is going to stand by you?” her stepmother had mocked. “He skipped out fast enough when I told him your age. A guy like that doesn’t want to be shackled to a sixteen-year-old country girl who was no more than a Christmas vacation fling to him.”

He hadn’t skipped out. Meredith hadn’t thought it then and she didn’t think it now.

It had shocked him when her stepmother had confronted him with how young she was. Meredith had let him assume she was older, knowing she could easily pass for nineteen and desperately wanting to go with him wherever he wanted to take her. She’d argued to herself that love had nothing to do with age.

But Nick had faced the issues squarely and laid them out to her. She still had two more years of school plus tertiary education after that, if she wanted it. There was so much more for her to do and experience and think about before tying herself to anyone or anything. She should be free to make the choices that would best suit her. The love they felt for each other could be recaptured when she was older. He didn’t feel right about taking up her life while she still had so much in front of her.

He had given her his address and suggested they send each other Christmas cards if they both wanted to keep the connection going. No commitment. But there was no harm in maintaining a friendly communication once a year. When she was twenty-one...

“Isn’t eighteen old enough?” she’d protested, devastated at the thought of waiting so many years before they could be lovers again.

“It wouldn’t be fair,” he’d answered ruefully. “Any more than it would be fair of me to stay on here, Merry. The more deeply we get involved the harder it will be to part.”

He’d gone that very day, the day after her stepmother had discovered them making love on the back veranda and created such an ugly scene, accusing Nick of taking advantage of a girl who was barely past being a minor. Despite his shock, Nick hadn’t allowed her stepmother to turn what had been beautiful into something low and dirty. And though he had left her, it wasn’t without the promise of a future for them...if their love held true. Giving her his address was proof of his good faith. He wouldn’t have done that if he was skipping out on her.

Meredith had known her pregnancy would come as another shock to him. He’d taken precautions every time they’d made love. How they’d failed she didn’t know but she’d had no doubt Nick would stand by her. He was kind and caring and responsible and honourable. She couldn’t imagine him letting her down.

It hurt, even now, thinking back to the Christmas after the birth of their baby. Secretly, she’d been so sure a Christmas card would come from him. Even though he was overseas in America, he would think of her and write and then she’d have a contact address and be able to write back, telling him what had happened. She had dreamed of him flying home and reclaiming their child from his sister. They’d be married and...but no Christmas card had come from him.

The only communication had been the first promised packet of photographs from his sister.

So had begun the painful process of accepting that Denise Graham had told the truth about his losing all memory of the time they’d spent together. Or that Nick had put her out of his life. Either way, it was too late to change her mind about giving up her baby daughter. That decision was irrevocable.

But some dreams refused to die. A year later she’d succumbed to the temptation of going to the address Nick had given her, the Grahams’ address, hoping to see him since his two years in the U.S. were up, wanting the chance to know for certain how matters stood between them. The Grahams had moved. None of their neighbours knew where they’d gone. The one avenue she’d had to him was closed.

She’d told herself to get on with her life, and she had, but for a long, long time the dream had persisted that he would turn up one day and make everything right again. And here he was, but with no memory of her, and trying to make things right for the child he thought of as his niece.

He emerged from the kitchen, carrying a plate of toasted sandwiches, and Meredith steeled herself to keep a calm composure, determined on convincing him she would do what was best for Kimberly, the welfare and happiness of her daughter being her first consideration. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering over him, nor could she quell the wish for some sign of the love they had once shared.

Her pulse quickened with each step he took toward her. As he bent to set the plate on the coffee table in front of her, her eyes feasted on his face, admiring the long thick sweep of his eyelashes—their daughter had inherited them—and retracing the sensual contours of his mouth, remembering the explosive passion of his kisses. Her muscles clenched, wanting the release he had once given them, and Meredith savagely berated herself for being unable to suppress the desires he stirred.

“Are you married?” she asked, driven to know if he was out of bounds to her. If he was, maybe she could put this intense distraction aside and concentrate solely on establishing time with Kimberly.

“No.” He flashed a sharp look at her before moving to settle in the armchair on the other side of the table.

Meredith struggled to maintain a natural air of inquiry. That one brief word eased the terrible tightness in her chest. It was like a song of hope in her ears. For a moment or two her mind danced with wonderful possibilities. Then the realities of today’s world crashed in, reminding her of the commonplace arrangements that didn’t require marriage.

“Do you live with...with a partner?” She couldn’t bring herself to say lover.

“No.” He sat facing her, watching her, and Meredith could only hope he couldn’t see she was giddy with relief. His expression was carefully schooled to give nothing of his thoughts away as he slowly added, “I employ a woman to come in weekdays and be there after school hours. She also looks after Kimberly whenever I’m out in the evening. She’s with her now. They get on quite well.”