She clutched at his arm. Her lips were bloodless as she choked, “No, Erik, you wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I? What have I got to lose by trying?”
He fairly spat the words as he shoved her away from him and then strode toward his car. The trio stood looking after him, stunned. Erik didn’t look back, or he would have seen the young woman in black slump to the ground in a faint.
Chapter Twenty-one
Kathleen watched as Theron forsook the toy train for the brightly colored box it had come in. He sat amid the paper and ribbons of his opened Christmas packages at the foot of the decorated tree. Alice and George had insisted that the boy celebrate a real Christmas despite Seth’s death.
The two weeks since his funeral had been painful ones for Kathleen, but she had survived them. She had been insulated from some of the grim chores. George handled everything. Hazel refused to even go near her brother’s rooms.
Hazel. She was a constant source of antipathy to Kathleen. The woman so burned with hatred that it consumed her, decaying her from within. She went to her office every day, wreaking havoc where she could. The distressed store managers called Kathleen asking for guidance on how to deal with her unreasonable directives. Kathleen soothed them as well as she could, telling them that Hazel was pressured by grief and persuading them to treat her with forebearance. She knew they weren’t convinced, but they were too polite to contradict her in deference to her husband’s recent death.
Kathleen didn’t return to work. She spent her days with Theron, whom she felt she had neglected for the past month. He didn’t seem to have suffered unduly. He was as sturdy and energetic as ever.
She smiled as Alice opened the cashmere sweater Kathleen had given her. Alice’s face lit up with surprise and delight. George was equally excited over the tweed hat that was found in his package. They hadn’t given Kathleen anything and she hadn’t expected it. Alice came to her now and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“I’m cooking you a traditional Christmas dinner, Kathleen. And I’m going to see to it personally that you eat every bite. George has picked out a fine wine we can drink with it.”
Kathleen patted Alice’s hand. “Thank you. That sounds lovely. Can I help?”
“No, ma’am. You sit right here and play with Theron.” She hedged before she said softly, “He has another present that was delivered yesterday. Aren’t you going to let him open it?”
“Yes,” Kathleen sighed. “I suppose so.”
The box stood under the tree against the wall, and try as she might, she couldn’t ignore it. He was Theron’s father, after all. It was only natural that he’d send his son a Christmas gift.
That she knew. It was what she didn’t know that bothered her. What did Erik intend to do about his son? The angry, resolute set on his features and that last dire warning he had slung at her at the cemetery had haunted her day and night. He had refrained from claiming his son for Seth’s sake. Now that Seth was gone, nothing stood in his way. Since he knew of Hazel’s overt hatred for the boy, he might well convince himself that he was acting in the child’s interest by getting him out of harm’s way.
“Theron,” Kathleen called to her son, who was now chewing on a ribbon. “Come here. You have another present.” She took his hand and he toddled after her to the large, gift-wrapped box. “Do you want me to help you?” she asked. “Apparently not,” she replied wryly when he began ripping off the paper with maniacal zeal. He had exhibited an amazing acumen for opening presents.
“Oh, my goodness!” Kathleen laughed in spite of herself when she read the printing on the box. “He’s crazy.”
The box did indeed contain a bright red tricycle, complete with bells, police decals, shiny lights and a siren that wailed at one push of a button. Kathleen tried it and the sound shattered the relative peace. Alice and George came running.
Both of them clapped their hands and started laughing at Theron’s perplexed look. George lifted the boy onto the black vinyl seat. His chubby legs weren’t quite long enough for his feet to reach the pedals, but he grinned proudly. Only recently had another physical trait he had inherited from Erik been made manifest. He had a dimple in the exact spot as his father’s.
“Erik must be out of his mind,” Kathleen said, laughing. The older couple looked at her quickly. Did she realize that she had mentioned the man’s name? She did, and flushed hotly. The name that was never far from her mind had finally been vocalized. She often wondered if they suspected the nature of her relationship with Erik. George had heard Hazel’s tirade in the hospital corridor. Surely he had told his wife about that scene. Theron looked like Erik more and more. Did they know? From their attitude, she couldn’t tell. They treated her with the respect and friendliness that they always had.
“Theron’ll grow into this in no time,” George said. “Maybe Erik will come over and teach him how to ride it.”
“Ric, Ric,” Theron crowed as he pushed the button for the siren.
“Maybe so,” Kathleen mumbled, then busily began gathering up the discarded paper.
After the huge turkey dinner she shared with George, Alice and Theron in the breakfast room, Kathleen retired to the living room to look at the Christmas tree and nurse a second glass of wine. Hazel had taken her dinner in the dining room all alone. What a pitiable woman she was, Kathleen thought.
The lights on the tree blurred through her tears as a wave of homesickness worse than any she had known before swept over her. Where was her home? She had Theron, but this wasn’t their home. This house was Hazel’s and always would be. As soon as the will was probated, Kathleen intended to take Theron away from here, even if Hazel hadn’t issued the ultimatum. But where would she go? Where was home? Who was home? Erik…
I wonder whom he’s spending Christmas with, she thought with a stab of pain. Is he sharing wine in front of his fireplace with a woman? Cuddling her? Kissing her? Saying—?
Stop! She couldn’t think of that. If she thought about Erik, she would go mad. And if she didn’t think about him, she would die.
She had to talk to someone. She picked up the telephone and called the only family she had. “Edna, Merry Christmas!”
“Kathleen! Dear, it’s so good to hear from you. B. J., turn off that ball game and pick up the extension. It’s Kathleen.”
“Hi there, sweetheart,” B. J. boomed into her ear as he picked up the second phone.