One More for Christmas - Sarah Morgan Page 0,123

child, Mom. She spouts these things when she’s tired. She’s still very young, and struggles to control her emotions. You can’t attach too much meaning to what she says. Sometimes it’s best just to let it pass and not examine it too closely.”

“I keep thinking I should have—”

“Well, don’t. Looking after young children isn’t easy. I love being a mother, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t days when I am desperate for Michael to walk through the door so that I can have five minutes to breathe. How did you do it on your own? I have no idea. I’m exhausted. I’m going to need Santa to bring me headache pills.” Ella flopped back on the bed and closed her eyes.

“You’re a wonderful mother, Ella. Tab is a lucky girl.” Gayle rubbed Ella’s shoulder. “Can I fetch you headache pills?”

“No, I’ll be fine, but thank you.” Ella sat up. “Nothing that five minutes peace with my own mother won’t cure. I’m so glad you came. Are you? Or has that horrifying glimpse into the other side of my daughter made you book a flight home?”

“I’m pleased I came.”

“When we get back home, will you come and stay with us? We have a pretty house near the river. Big garden.” Ella paused. “No pressure. You’ll probably be too busy getting back into work after your injury. I know you’ve already taken more time off than you have in a decade.”

“I’d love to come. Thank you. I can’t wait to see your home. And work won’t be a problem. I think I’ve earned the right to ease up a little, and I’ve already decided I’m going to delegate more. I’d like to spend more time learning to be a grandmother. I’d like to be there for you so that when you need five minutes to go to the bathroom without Tab firing questions through the door, you know she’s safe. I’m going to read up on handling tired children. What do you think?”

Ella smiled. “I think Tab is a very lucky girl to have a grandmother who cares as much as you do.”

The approval and validation wiped out all the doubt and insecurity that Gayle had been feeling.

“I hope so.” She sat, side by side with her daughter. “I’m going to make it so.”

Kirstie

They sat in the kitchen, the way they so often had when they were growing up and wild weather had kept them trapped indoors. Her mother was stirring something on the stove, her brother had his head down, focusing on a calculation. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, which took her straight back to childhood.

It was all so familiar, and yet unfamiliar because her father should have been there, too, sitting in his usual place at the end of the table, newspaper spread out in front of him, steaming mug of tea by his hand.

Kirstie was still getting used to the fact that they were no longer four. That they would never be four again. It had been almost a year since her father had died, and still she walked into the kitchen and was shocked not to see him.

She hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone this much.

“Eat something, Kirstie.” Her mother put a plate in front of her. “You didn’t eat earlier, and you need your strength.”

Tempting her on the plate was a mound of fluffy scrambled eggs flecked with ground black pepper, and hot slices of toast, the bread freshly cut from the loaf that was still scenting the kitchen.

Her mother thought food cured everything.

Not wanting to offend or draw attention to herself, she took an unenthusiastic bite, tasted perfection and decided maybe her mother had a point.

“She seems to know what she’s talking about, I’ll give you that.” She took another mouthful. “But if I focus on working outdoors with the reindeer—” and she wanted that so badly; she wanted to go back from tending people to tending her animals “—that’s going to make a lot of work for you, Mum.” And she felt guilty about it. She should be working in the lodge with her mother, sleeves rolled up. The thought of it was a ton weight pressing down on her. Whenever she was indoors she kept gazing out the window, wanting to be out there.

“I’ve already spoken to Eileen in the village.” Her mother joined them at the table, coffee in hand. “She thinks her niece would love to come and help me out. If the work

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