Once upon a time Joe was my hero, too. My tower of strength.
Now, she would never feel his arms around her again.
Yikes, where had that thought sprung from? What’s the matter with me?
She hurried out of the room to get a dustpan and broom and, by the time she returned, Jacko had stopped crying.
Joe set him down and the boy stood, sniffling, as he watched Ellie sweep up the glittering broken pieces.
‘I told you to be careful,’ she felt compelled to remind him as she worked. ‘You mustn’t touch these pretty ornaments, or they’ll break.’
‘He’s too little to understand,’ said Joe.
Ellie glared up at him. ‘No, he’s not.’ What would Joe know about little kids?
Joe shrugged and looked around the room. ‘Perhaps we can find something more suitable for him to play with. Something like paper chains? They might distract him.’
Ellie had actually been thinking along the same lines and it annoyed her that Joe had made the suggestion first. ‘So you’re suddenly an expert on raising children?’
‘Ellie, don’t be like that.’
‘Like what?’
Joe simply stared at her, his blue eyes coolly assessing.
Oh, help. It was happening already. All the old tensions were sparking between them—electricity of the worst kind. Dangerous. Lethal.
All she’d wanted was a simple, relaxing afternoon decorating the tree.
‘There are paper chains in those shopping bags,’ she said, pointing to one of the cartons. Then, summoning her dignity, she rose and took the dustpan back to the kitchen.
By the time she returned, Jacko and Joe had trailed bright paper chains along the shelves of the bookcase and they were now looping them around a tall lamp stand.
The CD was still playing. The singer had moved on to Deck the Halls, and Ellie set about decorating the tree again, hoping for peace on Earth and goodwill towards one particular man.
She couldn’t deny that Joe was great at playing with their son. Every time Jacko became too curious about the tree, Joe would deflect him. They played hide and seek behind the sofa, and Joe taught Jacko how to crawl on his belly, Commando style. Watching this, Ellie winced, sure that Joe’s injured leg must have hurt.
She almost said something about his leg, but held her tongue. He was a big, tough soldier, after all.
Joe hid Jacko’s teddy bear behind a cushion and the boy squealed with delight every time he rediscovered the toy. After that, Jacko played the game again and again, over and over.
Ellie tried really hard not to feel left out of their games. She knew that the nanny, Nina, played games like this all the time with Jacko, while she was out attending to chores around the property. But she’d never imagined macho Joe being quite so good with the boy.
It shouldn’t have bothered her. It didn’t bother her. If Joe was proving to be an entertaining father, she was pleased. She was even grateful.
She was. Truly.
Meanwhile, the Christmas tree became a thing of beauty, with delicate ornaments and shiny stars, and trailing lines of lights and silver pine cones.
After Jacko’s umpteenth game of hiding the toy bear behind the cushion, Joe strolled over to inspect Ellie’s progress.
‘It’s looking great,’ he said. ‘Really beautiful.’
His smile was genuine. Gorgeous? It sent unwanted warmth rippling through her. ‘At least it helps to make the house look more festive.’
Joe nodded and touched a pretty pink and purple glass spiral with his fingertips. ‘I remember these. We bought them for our very first Christmas.’
To Ellie’s dismay, her eyes pricked with the threat of tears. Joe shouldn’t be remembering those long ago times when they were still happy and hopeful and so blissfully in love.
‘I’d rather not rehash old memories, Joe. I don’t think it’s helpful.’
She saw a flash of emotion in his eyes. Pain? Her comment hadn’t hurt him, surely? Not Joe. He had no regrets. Not about them. He’d gone off to war without a backward glance.
And yet he definitely looked upset.
Ellie wondered if she should elaborate. Try to explain her caution.
But what could she explain? That she hadn’t meant to hurt him? That, deep down, she still cared about him? That the memories were painful because she cared?
How could those sorts of revelations help them now? They couldn’t go back.
Confused, Ellie felt more uptight than ever. She spun away from Joe and began to gather up the empty boxes and tissue paper that had housed the decorations, working with jerky, angry movements.
To her annoyance, Joe simply stayed where he was by the tree, watching her with a thoughtful, searching gaze.
‘You could always help to clean up this mess,’ she said tightly.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ He moved without haste, picking up the shopping bags that had housed the paper chains. Crossing the room, he dropped them into one of the cartons and, when he looked at her again, his eyes were as hard and cool as ice. ‘You can’t let up, can you, Ellie?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re determined to make this hard for both of us.’
‘I’m not trying to make it hard,’ she snapped defensively. ‘It is hard.’
‘Yeah? Well, you’re not the only one finding it hard. And it doesn’t help when you make it so damn obvious that you can’t stand the sight of me.’
Ellie smarted. ‘How can you say that?’
‘How?’ Joe looked at her strangely, as if he thought she’d lost her marbles. ‘Because it’s the truth. It’s why I left four years ago.’
No! The protest burst on her lips, but she was aware that Jacko had stopped playing. He was standing very still, clutching his teddy bear, watching them, his little eyes round with worry.
They were fighting in front of him, which was terrible—the very last thing she wanted.
‘If we’re going to survive this Christmas,’ Joe said tightly, ‘you’re going to have to try harder.’
Ellie felt her teeth clench. ‘I know how to behave. I don’t need a lecture.’
‘Well, you certainly need something. You need to calm down. And you need to think about Jacko.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘This atmosphere can’t be good for him.’
How dare you? Of course she was thinking about Jacko.
Ellie was stung to the core. Who did Joe think he was, telling her off about her parenting? Was he suggesting she was insensitive to Jacko’s needs? Joe, who hardly knew the boy?
She was Jacko’s mother. She knew everything about her son—his favourite food, his favourite toy and favourite picture books. She knew Jacko’s fears, the times he liked to sleep, the way he liked to be cuddled.
She’d been through his pregnancy on her own, and she’d given birth to him alone. She’d raised Jacko from day one, nursing him through colic and croup and teething. Later, chickenpox. Jacko’s first smile had been for Ellie alone. She’d watched him learn to roll over, to sit up and to crawl, to stand, to walk.
Around the clock, she’d cared