Never Forgotten (Never Forgotten Series) (21 page)

I listened until I heard the front door close and the low hum of David’s car disappear into the distance, then I pulled the books back out of the bag. I scoured every bit of information I could find on Selkies. When I ran out in the books, and it didn’t take long, I went online and searched some more. There wasn’t much.

The most consistent information I could find was that Selkies lived in and near the ocean. The legend seemed to originate on the Orkney Islands, near Scotland. That explained the accent that David and Ula tried unsuccessfully to cover up. It also said that the Selkies shed their sealskin to take human form. What did they do with their skin? Store it somewhere? I guess David could leave his at his apartment. Would he trust it there? From what I read, if a Selkie lost its skin, it could no longer change form. It was stuck as a human forever.

Could Mom take David’s skin? Would that keep him here? Legends spoke of fishermen who hid the skin of Selkie women to keep them as wives. That wasn’t any different, was it? But, it wasn’t right either. Keeping someone from their true nature, forcing them to stay with you, well, that wasn’t love any more than abandoning your woman and newborn baby daughter was. What a crappy mess.

Once again, I thought about calling Evan, or even texting Kim, and telling them about what I learned. Something told me to keep it to myself. The more people who knew, the harder it would be to keep it from David, and I wanted to know more. If David found out, I was positive he would order Ula not to tell me more. I didn’t know if she’d obey him, but I didn’t want to take that chance. No, the secret was mine. For now.

M
om, are you awake?” I cracked open her bedroom door, praying she was alone. I didn’t think David actually stayed over. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe that nothing happened between them. The last thing I wanted was to find them in bed together. I shuddered at the thought.

I barely heard my mom’s sleepy reply. “Meara?”

I fully opened the door and saw that she was alone. I breathed a sigh of relief before running over and crawling into bed next to her. She jumped when my cold feet brushed her leg.

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” I whispered.

She kissed my nose, and then whispered back. “Merry Christmas, honey.”

This Christmas morning ritual went back as far as I could remember. I would crawl into Mom’s bed and lay next to her until she was fully awake, and then we would walk together into the living room to open the presents under the tree.

The smell of coffee infiltrated the room just before I heard the distinct sizzle of the frying pan, followed by the heady scent of bacon. It wasn’t our habit to eat breakfast before opening gifts. Then again, it wasn’t just our tradition any more. Now, my grandparents were a part of it.

“How are you feeling, Mom?”

“Cold,” she said. “Your feet are ice cubes, Meara. Really, where are your socks?”

“I can’t sleep with socks on,” I said. “It bothers my feet.”

“Well, go put a pair on now.” She sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. “Your poor feet! I’ll get my robe, and then we’ll join your grandparents in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” I threw my arms around her and squeezed before I got up. Was I imagining things, or did she feel a little less bony? “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

I ran to my room and put on some fuzzy Christmas socks that Mom gave me last year. When I walked back down the hall, she was waiting for me in her doorway. Her robe looked rattier than ever, and I couldn’t wait for her to open her new one.

“Merry Christmas!” we called out simultaneously as we entered the kitchen.

Grandpa Jamie set down his paper, stood up, and gave us each a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, girls.”

His voice sounded gruff. It was a surprisingly emotional display from him. I was touched. Grandma Mary was scrambling eggs, so we met her by the stove. I kissed her cheek, and Mom gave her a hug. Although my grandma laughed, there were tears in her eyes.

“Is something wrong, Grandma?” I asked. I had taken to calling them Grandpa and Grandma recently. I didn’t feel right calling them by their first names anymore, not when they truly felt like my grandparents.

“No, child,” she said. “I’m just so happy that we’re all together. Do you how long it has been since we had a full house for the holidays?”

“Oh, Mom.” Now it was my mom’s turn to tear up. She gave my grandma another hug and kissed her cheek. I heard her whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Grandma Mary shook her head and waved us off. “I’m just happy to have you both here. That’s all.”

When I turned to go to the fridge and get my usual Diet Coke, Grandma stopped me. “Not this morning, Meara. I made you hot chocolate, and not from that awful powdered mix. There’s whipped cream too.” She poured me a mug of cocoa from the pan simmering on the stove. The canned whipped cream sat on the counter. I created a mountain on top of my drink. Yum.

I sat at the table across from Grandpa and next to my mom, savoring the rich, chocolate flavor. It was the best hot chocolate I had ever tasted. Mom eyed my mug. “Is there enough left for me?” she asked.

“Of course.” Grandma Mary poured her a cup.

After we finished with the eggs, bacon, and toast, we headed into the living room to open presents, leaving the dishes for later.

My mom loved her robe, and my grandparents liked their gifts, too. Grandpa and Grandma gave me a lamp, a new book in a series that I was reading, and an electric blanket, which I couldn’t wait to try out. My room was a bit drafty. Mom gave me two sweaters and a perfume that I had admired the last time we went shopping together. She also gave me a large box covered in a nursery-rhyme print. When I opened it, I realized that it was a memory box. It held items that I had no idea she saved—my baby shoes, report cards, artwork, and letters that I wrote to her over the years. We spent about an hour going through the mementos, laughing at memories and sharing it all with my grandparents.

“I have one more gift for you, Mom,” I said when we were done. I reached behind the chair next to the tree and pulled out a flat, square package.

“What is this?” Mom asked as I handed it to her. I just shrugged and sat back to watch her open it.

She unwrapped the package, lifted the cover, and gasped, running her hand over the first page. “Oh, Meara.”

I smiled. “It’s a scrapbook of us, Mom.”

She turned the pages slowly, commenting on each one. When she was done, she handed the album to Grandma, and then slid over to hug me.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“It’s beautiful, honey,” she said. “I love it.”

We cleaned up the wrappings. While my grandparents continued to look at the scrapbook and memory box, Mom and I went to our rooms to get dressed. After, I went to the kitchen and started washing dishes and cleaning up.

“You don’t have to do that,” Grandma said from the doorway.

“I want to,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to do it all. Besides, you’re probably going to spend most of the day in here anyway.”

Evan and his family were coming over for dinner. They would be here around four. David was coming about an hour before them.

“Do you need help cooking?” I asked, although I figured she’d tell me no, even if she did need help. The last time I cooked with her, I burnt the sauce she asked me to stir.

“No, honey,” she said. “You can just relax with your mom and grandfather.”

She insisted on taking over in the kitchen, so I went back to the living room. Grandpa put on an old movie, Going My Way, with Bing Crosby. “This is what we watched when I was a kid.”

I curled up next to my mom to watch the movie. “You’re wearing your robe,” I said. “I thought you went to get dressed.”

She winked and showed me that she wore a blouse and dress pants underneath. “I couldn’t resist. It looked so comfortable.”

She covered my legs with her blanket, and I leaned against the fluffy sleeve of her new robe.

When the movie ended, I stood and stretched. Mom stood, too.

“Should we see if your grandmother needs help?” she asked.

Grandma seemed to have it all under control in the kitchen. “Recruit your father to bring up the folding table. You girls can set it.” She told us where she kept her holiday linens and sent us off.

Grandpa placed the folding table in the living room, since there was not enough room in the kitchen. There would be two sets of diners. At least we had an open doorway between us. When he was done, Mom declared, “Time to decorate!”

Grandpa mumbled something about needing to test the food, and disappeared into the kitchen. Mom and I barely noticed him leaving the room. We loved to decorate, so we had fun arranging the tablecloths, cloth napkins, and napkin rings. We scouted the house, finding candles and holiday decorations to place along the center. When we were done, it looked like something out of a magazine—festive and elegant.

The doorbell rang a few minutes before three, and Mom ran to get it. I refrained from rolling my eyes, but just barely. She acted like a teenager when my father was around. Although, I had to admit, when he walked into the room, he did look striking.

“It’s snowing,” he said, running his hand through his hair to remove the unmelted flakes. Under his leather jacket, he wore a dark green, cashmere sweater and black dress pants. Once he took off his well-worn coat, he looked like he just stepped off the set of a movie. He kissed my cheek while placing a small package in my hand. “Merry Christmas, Meara.”

“Merry Christmas,” I replied brightly. I hoped he didn’t notice that I purposefully left off his name. I wasn’t ready to call him Dad, but David did not seem right today, either. The holidays were about family after all. I looked at the gift in my hand. It fit comfortably in my palm, and was beautifully wrapped in gold foil paper tied with a red velvet ribbon.

“Are you going to open it?” David asked.

“Can I? I wasn’t sure if I have to wait for everyone to get here.”

“Go ahead. I’d like to know what it is, too.” Mom, at David’s side, leaned forward with curiosity. I carefully unwrapped the package—it didn’t seem right to tear such beautiful paper—and opened the box to find a gold bracelet inside. It was decorated with evenly spaced charms—a sand dollar to match my necklace, a starfish, a seahorse, a seal, and two pearls.

“It’s lovely,” I said. “Thank you.” I didn’t have much jewelry, and I loved the delicate beauty. The charms sparkled as I turned the bracelet in my hand.

“Do you want to put it on?” he asked. When I nodded, he encircled my wrist with the bracelet and closed the clasp. “Perfect fit.”

I gave him a hug before I showed the bracelet to my mom. She turned my wrist to the sides to view all the charms. “It’s beautiful, David.”

“I have a gift for you, too.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box slightly smaller than the one he gave me. Mom’s was tied with green velvet that almost matched David’s sweater.

Mom took the gift and unwrapped it with shaky hands. When she lifted the lid, she gasped and looked at him. David dropped to one knee. I swallowed painfully.

“Sharon,” he said, and his voice was not steady. “I have not done well by you, but I know you are a generous person. I’m hoping you’ll give me another chance. I love you and have loved you since I met you. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Oh, David!” Mom exclaimed. “Yes!”

Mom wiped the tears off her cheeks, as David took the box from her and placed the ring on her left hand. He bent his head, and she met him for a kiss. I was too stunned to be embarrassed. My parents were getting married?

“About time,” Grandpa grumbled, although he looked pleased with David for once. I wondered how long they had been standing in the doorway of the kitchen. Grandma’s cheeks were wet. When the kiss ended, she ran and hugged them both, taking my mom’s hand to gush over the ring.

Mom gestured for me to join them, so I did. I had to admit, it was a gorgeous ring. Instead of a diamond solitaire, the ring featured a huge, creamy pearl encircled by alternating diamonds and sapphires. It fit Mom’s finger perfectly. When I looked up, I realized that everyone was watching me, waiting for my response. I thought for a moment, trying to figure out how I was feeling and what I wanted to say. I was confused, surprised, and, I realized, happy for them, too. For us. We were going to be a family. A real family.

“Congratulations,” I said, hugging Mom first and kissing her cheek. I hugged David next, and he whispered in my ear.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have asked you first. My mistake.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered, and I meant it. “You gave my mom the best gift ever.”

“Yes,” he said, pulling back to look in my eyes. “You.”

I blushed and lowered my head. David, realizing he had embarrassed me, took the opportunity to give presents to my grandparents—a box of spiced nuts for my grandfather, and two bottles of white wine for my grandmother.

“We’ll serve these with dinner,” Grandma said. “I’ll just go and chill them.”

The shock mostly wore off by the time the doorbell rang again, and Evan and his family came in. Evan crossed the room to me just before Mom ran over to show Lydia the ring. She screamed, and then they were hugging, crying, and laughing.

Evan raised his eyebrow at me.

“My parents are engaged,” I said, much calmer than I felt.

“Wow,” Evan said. “Are you okay with that?”

“I’m happy for her,” I said. “For them.”

Evan reached out and, touching my wrist, lifted the bracelet lightly. “From David?” he asked, and I nodded in reply. “Nice.”

Katie came over and hugged me. “Merry Christmas! Sounds like it’s been an exciting day here.”

“You can say that again,” I said, and they both laughed.

Plates of roast beef, roasted potatoes, asparagus, and rolls were passed around the table. Katie, Evan, and I ate at the small kitchen table. We joked about being at the kids’ table while the adults ate in the other room. Talk of wedding plans drifted through the doorway. I was glad I didn’t have to sit there with a goofy grin on my face. Just because I was happy for them didn’t mean that I didn’t need time to adjust.