Miracle Under the Mistletoe

“Well?” He sounded resigned, as if he knew what was coming and just wanted to get it over with. “It’s me. You can tell me anything.”

Raising her chin, she met his gaze with hers, and that was all it took to put her back on course. No matter how good those early memories were, they weren’t enough. “I want a divorce,” she said softly but with conviction.

His shoulders stiffened as he took in her statement. “What did you say?”

“I said that I want a divorce.” Her heart pounded so fast and so hard that her chest almost hurt from the pressure. “I’m sorry, Grady. It’s time. You know it’s time.”

“I know nothing of the sort.” Grady’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not interested in a divorce. And we have a long way to go before I’ll even consider it.”

“How much longer? We haven’t been a real couple for two—almost three—years.”

“We were together and happy for seven.”

“That was a lifetime ago.”

“Our lifetime, Olly. Yours and mine. Why won’t you give us a chance?” Frustration colored his tone and a gleam of hurt pooled in his eyes. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid. But you moved out of the house nine months ago. We lead separate lives. There isn’t any reason to pretend any longer, Grady.” She lifted her chin. “Our marriage is over.”

“I moved out because you asked me to. I’ve kept to our agreement of one phone call a week. I don’t drop by without your permission.” He combed his fingers through his hair in a quick, jagged movement. “And do you know why I’ve done these things?”

She knew. Of course, she knew. “Because I asked you to. Because you hoped that a little distance would bring us closer together. But that hasn’t happened.”

“Because you haven’t let it.”

One deep breath in, another out, and she said, “We’re at the end. You have to know that.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know that. What I know is that we are not finished. What I know is that there is still plenty between us. Tell me I’m wrong.”

The pain in her chest expanded. “You’re not wrong,” she said in a shaky whisper. “There are feelings here. There will probably always be feelings between us, but we can’t—”

“What?” he demanded. “We can’t what?”

“Recover. Be the same as we were. Turn back time.” But dear God, she wished they could. She swallowed a sob. “We can’t fix the one thing that needs to be fixed.”

Every hard edge softened. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath that must have reached his toes. When he opened his eyes again, she no longer saw frustration. She saw compassion, as well as the same raw pain that met her gaze every time she looked into a mirror. This was what they shared now: pain and loss. And how were they to build anything meaningful, anything positive, with that as their foundation?

“You’re right. I would do anything—give up anything—to change what happened. But I can’t, sweetheart. You can’t, either. But we—you and I—can forge something new, something different. It will never be the same, but we can be happy again. I believe that, Olly. If you’ll just give us a real chance.” His jaw set in that stubborn line. “Unless… Is there someone else?”

“No,” she said instantly. “But there never will be for either of us if we’re still married to each other.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he said in a growl.

“Fine! Maybe I do! M-maybe I’m ready to start dating again.” The lie fell easily from her lips, but not so easily from her heart. “Maybe I’m ready to move on.”

“Then move on with me.”

He made it sound so easy. As if simply saying yes would magically set everything right. And she—God help her—wanted to say yes. But she’d had more peace in the past nine months than she’d had before he moved out. That made her answer clear and absolute. “I can’t. There is nowhere left for us to go. It’s been three years since we’ve been happy, Grady.”

“Yup,” he said, surprising her with his agreement. “But in those three years, have we seen a counselor? Have we had an honest conversation about what happened?” He shook his head. “No, we haven’t. Therefore, all alternatives have not been exhausted.”

“Tell me the past nine months haven’t been a relief?” she countered.

“They’ve been hell,” he said quietly.

“Not for me.” This wasn’t the entire truth. She’d missed her husband. At times, had even ached to see him, to hear his voice, to feel his arms close around her at night. But the greater part of her had found relief. Amnesty. A reprieve from the darkness. “I—I don’t need your agreement to file for divorce.”

“No. You don’t. Oregon is a no-fault state. But that doesn’t mean I won’t put up a fight.”

“It would be easier if you would agree. I would like it so much better if we were on the same page. I don’t want to fight you,” she admitted in a rush of syllables. “But I can’t stand still anymore. Please understand.”

“Understand what? That you’re my wife? I love you, Olivia. Doesn’t that mean anything to you now?”

And she still loved him. She probably always would. But sometimes, love wasn’t enough. It sucked, and she hated it, but that was the way life worked. “No, Grady. It doesn’t.” She cringed at her tone—at another lie—but backing down wasn’t an option. “I need this. I need to move on, and I can’t do that until we are officially over with.”

Defeat, followed by a hot blaze of emotion ripped over Grady’s features. “What would Cody say to this? Have you thought about that?”

His words slammed into her, shaking her bravado and stealing her breath away. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you bring Cody into this.”

“Oh, come on, Olivia. Let’s be honest with each other about this for once.” Grady clenched his hands into fists. “This is completely about Cody. This has everything to do with Cody. So let me ask you again—what would our son have to say about this?”

Every iota of calmness she’d managed to maintain evaporated. This was too much. She needed to get away from here—from him. Standing from the table, she grabbed her purse and set an icy glare upon her husband. “I’m going to have Samantha start the paperwork. You might want to consider hiring an attorney.”

With that, she left the restaurant in slow, measured steps that belied her off-the-charts emotional state. Her entire body quaked as sadness mixed with shock and anger rushed through her. How dare he? Bringing their son into this was wrong.

She made it to her car without shedding a tear. Knowing Grady was apt to come looking for her, to make sure she was all right and to offer her comfort, she drove down the street a few miles before pulling into another parking lot, this one in front of a grocery store.

Crossing her arms over the steering wheel, she allowed herself a good, shoulder-shaking cry. God, she missed Grady. But she missed her little boy more. Missed every little thing about him. And that was one reason being around Grady was so difficult. Cody had been the spitting image of his daddy. So when Grady smiled, she saw Cody’s smile. When she looked into Grady’s eyes, she saw her son’s eyes. Even their laughs were the same. The resemblance between father and son kicked her in the gut every time she laid eyes on Grady.

It didn’t matter that the love she felt for her husband was as real today as it was on the day they married. It didn’t matter how often she woke in the middle of the night and reached for him, only to find herself alone. And it didn’t matter that her entire life felt emptier without him. Because as bad as all those things were, they didn’t compare to losing her child.

Grady thought she blamed him for the death of their son. Nothing could be further from the truth, not that he believed her. It would be easier if she did blame Grady, she admitted. She’d be able to forgive him. Forgiving herself, though, seemed impossible. It was her fault that her husband and son were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was her fault that they were driving on ice-slicked roads instead of where they should have been: safe and sound at home. She was the one who put off taking Cody to see Santa for weeks, and she was the one who put the bug in Cody’s ear about Daddy taking him to see Santa instead. And when Grady came to her and suggested they go together, as a family, she’d pushed the whole father-and-son-outing idea until he agreed.

Her selfish want to have a few hours to herself, to relax from all of the shopping, wrapping, baking and decorating had resulted in the loss of everything that meant anything.

So no, she couldn’t be with Grady. It was too hard. He brought too many memories, too many emotions, to the surface for her to find any type of peace.

Forty-five minutes later, Grady strode through the cemetery, not stopping until he reached his son’s gravestone. Nearly three years since he’d heard Cody’s laugh, since he’d seen the boy’s brown eyes light up in humor, since his arms had held his child to his chest in a hug. How was that possible? The pain ignited inside as if the loss had occurred yesterday.

Usually, Grady could set the hollow ache aside and move forward, do whatever needed to be done, and portray a man who lived and breathed and loved. It was only during these moments—when he came to visit Cody’s resting place—that he gave up the charade. There was no reason to pretend here. Not when it was just them.

He shivered, partly from the memories and partly from the dusting of snow that had fallen earlier all throughout the city. It seemed every recent winter brought more snow than the residents of Portland, Oregon, were accustomed to, but this was the earliest snowfall that Grady could recall. Silly and sentimental, maybe, but it was almost as if Cody were reaching out to him. His son had loved everything about winter.

Bending at the knees, Grady brushed the light layer of snow covering the etched letters that spelled out his son’s name. Losing Cody wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, either. But hell, what in life was fair? Things happened. Some of the things were good, some of them were bad, and some of them were so bad that you didn’t think you’d ever recover. Grady almost hadn’t. But you played the hand you were dealt. You found a way to get through, to get a grip, and you carried on.

Not that carrying on without his son had been an easy task. Far from it. Never had he experienced such a profound loss, and he prayed to whatever God existed that he would never face anything so excruciating again.

“Hey, kiddo. I’ve been thinking a lot about you today. Every day, really. You’re never far from my thoughts.” Grady’s throat seemed to shrink as he spoke, but he continued to talk, knowing from past experience that as hard as these visits were, they also helped him feel close to Cody. “I saw your mom tonight. You should’ve seen her, son. She looked beautiful.”