Single Dad In Her Stocking / A Puppy And A Christmas Proposal. Alison Roberts

a deeper breath. ‘I didn’t answer your question before. I was eleven when my mum died. My brother Andy was only eight. Not much older than Ben.’

      ‘Oh, Max… I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard for you all.’

      ‘I think we were too shocked to think about Christmas that year. It was the next one that was the hardest. Andy wanted it to be like it had been, but it was too hard on Dad. I found him crying and that shocked me so much. I had no idea what to do.’

      ‘Of course you didn’t. You were a child.’

      ‘I’m not proud of what I did do.’

      Emma watched the way Max’s face creased into lines of regret. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.’

      ‘I told Andy that Father Christmas wasn’t real. That it had been Mum who’d put all the decorations up and all those presents under the tree and in our stockings and that, now she wasn’t here, it couldn’t happen any more because it would make Dad too sad.’

      Oh… Emma could just imagine the serious conversation between two small boys. A fragmented family trying to find a way to be together without it causing too much pain for anyone. It was heartbreaking.

      ‘So it didn’t happen that year. Or the next. And then we just got used to it. We’d give each other a gift but we never put up a Christmas tree again or did any of the other decorations that Mum used to love—like winding long ropes of artificial leafy stuff like ivy and holly with its red berries between the bannisters on the staircase and hanging little bunches of golden bells on every door so that they jingled whenever they were opened and closed. Andy started doing it all again once he had children of his own, mind you.’ Max drained his glass. ‘Me, I just got more cynical about it all but then, it only really matters for the kids, doesn’t it?’

      ‘I’m not sure about that,’ Emma said slowly. ‘But it’s certainly a very special time of the year for children. Exciting…and magical, until you know the truth about Father Christmas.’

      Max grimaced. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not about to burst the bubble for Ben or Tilly. They’ve got more than enough of real life to get their heads around at the moment.’

      ‘But…’ Again, Emma bit her lip. This really wasn’t any of her business.

      ‘But, what?’

      ‘It’s just that…well…putting up a Christmas tree is only a part of it. And it’s only a decoration if you don’t really believe…’

      ‘In Father Christmas?’

      Emma shook her head. ‘No. In family. In celebrating the bond. Or, in your case this year, perhaps it’s about creating a bond. The new one that’s going to be the foundation for Ben and Tilly and Alice to feel like they belong.’

      Max was staring at her. ‘I can’t do that.’

      ‘You can. You and your dad. All you have to do is love these children and I’m sure you do already.’

      ‘Yes, but…we don’t know how to do Christmas. It’s been more than twenty years since we even had a piece of tinsel in the house. Dad wouldn’t want it.’

      ‘Are you sure? It’s been a long time, Max. Sometimes it takes a gentle push to get people past something that’s holding them back. This new family of yours is a gift. It could turn out to be the best thing that could have happened.’

      ‘The breaking of the curse?’

      ‘If you like. The start of something new, anyway. Something very special.’

      Emma’s tone had softened as she thought about these two bachelor men of different generations sharing their lives with three small children. About the amount of love that would be available within the thick stone walls of this ancient house. She was smiling at Max as she finished speaking. He was holding her gaze with that kind of intensity she had felt before—when it had seemed like he was really seeing her for the first time.

      ‘You’re right,’ he said softly. ‘This could be the most important Christmas these kids will ever have. It has to be special.’ He still hadn’t broken the eye contact and Emma was starting to feel an odd tingle spreading through her body.

      ‘You have to help me, Emma. Please…’ The plea in Max’s tone was so heartfelt. ‘I don’t know how to do this by myself. I… I need you…’

      The tingle had just reached Emma’s toes.

      ‘We all need you,’ Max added, as if summoning every power of persuasion he could find. ‘Me and Dad. Ben and Tilly and Alice. Probably Pirate too. Just to be here when you’re not at the hospital. Just to be…well…just to be you… And…and you did promise to show Ben and Tilly how to make stars and we didn’t get time to do that tonight, did we?’

      Emma nodded. ‘I did say I’d show them how to make stars.’

      But to stay here in this house?

      To spend Christmas with a family?

      It was terrifying and compelling at the same time. Emma knew she should run a mile but there was something in her way.

      Maybe it was a small boy with solemn eyes. A little girl with a bunny that had chewed ears or a baby that had been watching her as if she was the most important person on earth as she’d sucked her bottle. Perhaps it was a man of her father’s generation who loved his little dog but had lost the joy of this season so long ago. Or…maybe it was this man who was looking lost but was so determined to do his best for the entire little family that had just turned up on his doorstep. A man who wanted her to be here. Who needed her…

      Christmas… With children. And a baby. How could she possibly cope with saying yes?

      But Max needed her. Perhaps everybody needed her because she was outside the tragedy that had brought them together so maybe she could see what needed to happen more clearly. How could she possibly say no?