The House on Hope Street - By Danielle Steel Page 0,85

sure it was, for your whole family. I hope this one will be better.”

“I asked Santa for a kite like yours, but Mom says he won't bring one. She says we have to buy one.”

“Or make one,” Bill corrected. “What else did you ask Santa for?”

“A puppy, but Mom says we won't get that either, because Carole is allergic. She has asthma. I asked for games too, and a Nerf gun.”

“I'll bet you get those for sure.” Jamie nodded, and thanked him for the cast and for signing it, and then Bill turned his eyes to the child's mother. He could feel her watching them and there was something so sad in her eyes that it burned right through him. “I hope Christmas will be okay for all of you. I know the first year won't be easy.”

“It's got to be better than last year,” she smiled, with her mouth, if not her eyes, and he wanted to push back a lock of hair that had fallen across her eyes, but he didn't think he should. She did it herself a minute later, unaware that he had seen it. “Thank you for being so good to Jamie. I appreciate it.”

“That's what I do. Brute that I am,” he grinned at her, and she looked embarrassed. “I got over it,” he said to put her at ease again, “though I'll admit it smarted for a bit. Girls play dirty,” he said and laughed as he walked them to the door of the ER.

“Not all girls,” she said softly. “Take care, Bill. Merry Christmas.” She waved as she and Jamie left. Carole had gone home to the others while Jamie was in surgery. And Bill stood watching them as they got in the car, and then walked back through the emergency room with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

Chapter 13

When Jamie got home from the hospital, he told everyone he'd seen Bill, and told Peter he'd said hi to him, and then he showed them his cast and where Bill had signed it. He had everyone sign it then, including Carole and his mother. Liz watched him, feeling as though she'd been trapped in a whirlpool all afternoon, with her own emotions whirling all around her. It had been hard seeing Bill, but it was nice too. It was so tantalizing, she had wanted to just reach out and touch him. Or worse yet, tell him she loved him. But she knew that that would have been crazy. He was as far out of her life now as Jack was.

She went to the cemetery to leave flowers for her husband the next day. And she stood there for a long time, thinking of the years they had shared, and the good times they'd had. It all seemed so wasted now, so lost, all because of one terrible moment. It still seemed so unfair. She stood at his grave for a long time, and cried for what they had lost and what he was missing. He would never see his children grow up, or his grandchildren, he wouldn't grow old with her. Everything had stopped, and now they had to go on without him. It was all so very hard.

But the worst agony of all was Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Although she had expected it to be difficult, she had been in no way prepared for how hard it would hit her. It was like a wrecking ball to the chest that hit her in all ways. She missed the joys they had shared, the Christmases when the children were small, the laughter, the promise, the traditions. And then, as she reeled from the blow of her memories, she remembered the horror of their last Christmas morning, watching him lie dying on their office floor with no way to stop the nightmare that befell them. She walked around in a fog all day, crying all the time, and unable to stop, and the children were no better. It was one of the worst days in her life since he had died. And her mother was worried about her when she called. And even more so when she told her she was closing the office.

“I knew you'd have to do that,” her mother said the minute she told her. “Did you lose all your clients?” Nothing had changed in the past year since her dire predictions after the funeral.

“No, Mom, I have too many. I can't keep it up anymore,