Candlelight Christmas

“Well...almost.”

Adam finished his coffee. “I need to roll, my brothers.” He bumped knuckles with Charlie, then gravely shook his hand. “You take care, now. Work hard in school, and I’ll see you when you come back around.”

“Okay, Adam. Don’t let the place burn down while I’m gone.”

“Never happen.” He left a tip on the table. “MTB later?” he asked Logan.

“Indubitably.” Mountain-biking was exactly what he’d need later in the day, when Charlie’s departure for Oklahoma hurt like a fresh, gaping wound in his chest. He and Adam had begun a tradition of tearing up the trails in the hills above Avalon after work, in all kinds of weather.

Charlie dawdled over finishing his snack, and Logan didn’t rush him. Though neither had mentioned it, they both knew they were only minutes away from the dreaded long goodbye.

As soon as they left the bakery, the inevitable process would begin. Charlie’s mom was waiting for him at the Inn at Willow Lake, which was owned by her folks. Daisy always stayed there when she came to town. Logan’s duty was to hand the kid over and pretend it was great, a big adventure for Charlie. “Coparenting” was one of those terms that sounded like a good idea until it was actually put into practice. In actual fact, every time he said goodbye to Charlie, it ripped out a piece of his heart.

His phone vibrated, signaling a text message. Daisy’s ID came up. We’re hoping to make the noon train to the city. Possible?

Shit.

“We need to go, buddy.” Logan added to the tip on the table. “Don’t forget your stuff.”

Charlie grabbed his Camp Kioga baseball cap and put it on. “Ready,” he said.

They got in the car. Logan drove a banana-yellow Jeep, good for getting around when the winter snows came.

Avalon looked like one of his ex-wife’s flawless photos today, the leaves just starting to turn, the lake placid and flat, the covered bridge over the Schuyler River drawing the last of the summer tourists. It would still be hot in Oklahoma, flat and scrubby around the air force base.

“Excited about fifth grade?” Logan asked.

“Oh yeah. Can’t wait.”

“I know, buddy. School’s your job. You’ll do great. You’re going out for soccer this fall?”

“Sure. Soccer’s cool.”

Soccer had been Logan’s life when he was a kid, right up through high school. He still remembered the rush of a good play, the euphoria of drilling a goal home. His father rarely missed a game. It was the one thing that kept them close. Ultimately, though, the sport had become too important. Logan’s need to perform superseded common sense. In high school, his determination to impress his father had pushed him to play injured, and that had led to a ripped-up knee, multiple surgeries and a dangerous dependence on painkillers.

Logan resigned himself to missing all of Charlie’s games. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. He would find other activities to do with Charlie. Kioga in the summer, snowboarding or Florida in winter, daily phone calls, being there for his son whenever he could. He hoped like hell their time together would be enough.

They pulled up at the inn, a historic property in a grand mansion by the lake. The main building, with its wraparound porch and belvedere tower, was reflected in the glassy water. Hiding the heaviness in his heart, Logan grabbed Charlie’s duffel bag and backpack and went up the walk. Charlie’s mom came out the door.

Daisy looked amazing, no surprise. She’d always been smoking hot, even in high school, and she’d been as reckless and rebellious as Logan, which had led to the unplanned pregnancy in the first place. She wore her blond hair short, and her face was wreathed in smiles. Now, however, there was something new about her. The angry, reckless girl had turned into a woman—a mom. She was holding a baby on her hip. Behind her was her husband, Air Force Captain Julian Gastineaux, tall and dark, casual in civilian clothes today.

“Charlie boy!” Daisy flung her free arm around Charlie and hugged him close to both her and the baby.

Logan stood back, watching. An outsider.

“Look at your sister,” Daisy said. “She’s grown so much.”

Charlie grinned and kissed the down-fuzz head. “Hiya, Princess Caroline,” he said, then looked back at Logan. “Dad, check it out, she’s really cute.”

“Totally cute,” Logan agreed.

Charlie broke away to give Julian a hug. “Hi, Daddy-boy.” His nickname for Julian had always been Daddy-boy. Logan hated that.

“Man, look at you,” Julian said. “You’re tall, my man.”

Logan and Julian acknowledged each other with a nod. The two of them were not exactly friends, but they shared a mutual respect and a love for Charlie.

“Congratulations,” Logan said. “Your baby’s really cute.”

“Thanks.”

Charlie took command of his sister, holding her with care. He showed her and Julian the paddle he’d painted and all the campers had autographed. Each camper went home with one.

“So, his stuff is here,” Logan said to Daisy. “He’s all set.”

“Thanks.” She gazed up at him, her blue eyes a stranger’s eyes now. “How are you?”

“Good.” It still felt surreal, talking to this person who had once been his whole world. He used to be on intimate terms with her not just physically, but with her every thought, her every dream and desire. Now she was just someone he didn’t really know anymore. She had truly moved on. The baby was stark evidence of that. Daisy had made a new life for herself.

Logan couldn’t say for certain that he’d done the same. He still lived in the house he and Daisy had bought together and remodeled, dreaming of the future. He still had the same job. Same friends. Same life—minus the family.

“You look good,” she said. “Summer camp agrees with you and Charlie both.”

That, at least, was gratifying. Toward the end of his marriage, Logan had let himself go, not bothering to pay attention to his diet, forgetting to exercise. Once he emerged from the fog of divorce, he’d taken out his frustration by mountain-biking, rowing on the lake, scrambling up rocks and mountainsides. He’d embraced single fatherhood with a vengeance, studying nutrition and cooking as if his son’s life depended on it. Cool that Daisy had noticed the improvement.

“Charlie had a great time at Camp Kioga. Be sure he tells you about all his adventures.”

“I will.”

Julian was already loading things into the car. Daisy’s stepmother, Nina, came out on the porch and gave Logan a wave. She had a baby of her own, a little boy about a year old. One big happy family. Logan felt like a chump, standing there, a complete outsider, his connection to the Bellamys now so tenuous. There had been a time when he’d come here for holiday gatherings, dinners and picnics on the lawn. Now his only role was to hand over Charlie and walk away.

“Um, so Julian got new orders,” Daisy said. Her gaze shifted from side to side, then to the ground.

Logan still knew her well enough to read nervousness in her manner. “What’s that mean?”

“We’re moving.”

“Why do I sense this is not good news?”

“The new assignment’s Yokota Air Force Base.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Where the hell is that?”

She swallowed visibly. “It’s in Fussa. Er, that’s in Japan.”

“Fuck.”

She winced, and he didn’t even bother to apologize for the profanity. To Logan, the real profanity was losing his son.