Read Online Miss Kane's Christmas by Caroline Mickelson - Free Book Online
Authors: Caroline Mickelson
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before walking rapidly toward the mall exit.
He watched her for a moment, caught off guard by her action. He jogged to catch up with them and fell in step beside her.
“Carol, stop, please. There’s no shame in admitting the truth.”
She stopped and whirled around to look up at him, her eyes flashing.
To save his life, he couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing and a strand of her dark hair fell into her eyes.
“Ben,” she narrowed her eyes, “pay attention because this is non-negotiable. We’re going home to spend the day eating candy cane ice cream, drinking hot chocolate, watching Miracle on 34 th Street and then we’ll read Christmas stories to the children. After they go to bed, I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.” She turned on her heel and strode off again.
Between the challenge he could see in Carol’s eyes, and the way his heart hammered in his chest, Ben knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.
Chapter Eight
Three classic Christmas movies, two pints of peppermint ice cream and one long evening later, Carol tucked her charges into their respective beds. Patrick, worn out from hours of unbridled fun, fell asleep as soon as his little head hit the pillow. His sister, on the other hand, looked pensive as Carol leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“And what are we looking so worried about?” Carol sat on the edge of the little girl’s bed. “I thought you had fun tonight.”
“Oh, I did.” Hillary said.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Carol reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hillary nodded, but remained silent.
Carol waited patiently. Whatever it was that was bothering Hillary, she wanted to know about. She had a good idea what it was but she waited for the girl to speak.
“It’s Daddy.”
Just as Carol thought. She smiled encouragingly. “What about your father?”
“He’s…he’s…oh, Miss Kane, he’s going to ruin Christmas.” Her confession was followed by a torrent of tears.
Carol gathered Hillary into her arms, holding her close while she cried. She rubbed the little girl’s back and rocked her ever so gently. At the same time her mind raced with uncharitable thoughts. But she pushed them aside. The Claus family creed was burned into her heart. Christmas was about children, first, foremost, and last.
Once Hillary appeared to be cried out, Carol helped her back into bed. “Better?”
After she nodded, Carol asked, “What are you really worried about?”
Hillary bit her lip. “I want Daddy to be happy, I do. But Patrick and I really want Santa to come. And he won’t if Daddy keeps saying he doesn’t exist.”
“You can trust Santa to do the right thing.” She reached over and pushed a stand of hair away from Hillary’s eye. “Your father will come around.”
“How do you know that?”
Carol smiled. “Lots of fathers are like yours, it’s hard for them to relax and enjoy the magic of Christmas.”
“Was your father like that too?”
She shook her head. “No. My father loves Christmas more than anyone I know. But I’ve met other fathers who think like yours. But you know what, sweetie, it’s up to us to help him enjoy it. I think he just doesn’t know how.”
Hillary’s smile was one of relief. “I hope you’re right, Miss Kane.”
“I am.” And as frustrated with Ben as she was, Carol still felt compelled to defend him. “You know, your dad is pretty great in every other way, isn’t he?”
Hillary nodded. “I think so.” She yawned. “I’m so glad you’re here with us, Miss Kane.”
“I’m glad too.” She patted the girl’s hand and crossed to the door. She turned out the light switch. “Sweet dreams, honey.”
“Miss Kane?”
“Yes?”
“I love Daddy,” Hillary said, her voice now heavy with sleepiness.
“I know you do,” Carol said. There was a lot to love about Ben Hanson. She pressed her hand against her chest but
He watched her for a moment, caught off guard by her action. He jogged to catch up with them and fell in step beside her.
“Carol, stop, please. There’s no shame in admitting the truth.”
She stopped and whirled around to look up at him, her eyes flashing.
To save his life, he couldn’t look away. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing and a strand of her dark hair fell into her eyes.
“Ben,” she narrowed her eyes, “pay attention because this is non-negotiable. We’re going home to spend the day eating candy cane ice cream, drinking hot chocolate, watching Miracle on 34 th Street and then we’ll read Christmas stories to the children. After they go to bed, I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.” She turned on her heel and strode off again.
Between the challenge he could see in Carol’s eyes, and the way his heart hammered in his chest, Ben knew he was in trouble. Big trouble.
Chapter Eight
Three classic Christmas movies, two pints of peppermint ice cream and one long evening later, Carol tucked her charges into their respective beds. Patrick, worn out from hours of unbridled fun, fell asleep as soon as his little head hit the pillow. His sister, on the other hand, looked pensive as Carol leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“And what are we looking so worried about?” Carol sat on the edge of the little girl’s bed. “I thought you had fun tonight.”
“Oh, I did.” Hillary said.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Carol reached for her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Hillary nodded, but remained silent.
Carol waited patiently. Whatever it was that was bothering Hillary, she wanted to know about. She had a good idea what it was but she waited for the girl to speak.
“It’s Daddy.”
Just as Carol thought. She smiled encouragingly. “What about your father?”
“He’s…he’s…oh, Miss Kane, he’s going to ruin Christmas.” Her confession was followed by a torrent of tears.
Carol gathered Hillary into her arms, holding her close while she cried. She rubbed the little girl’s back and rocked her ever so gently. At the same time her mind raced with uncharitable thoughts. But she pushed them aside. The Claus family creed was burned into her heart. Christmas was about children, first, foremost, and last.
Once Hillary appeared to be cried out, Carol helped her back into bed. “Better?”
After she nodded, Carol asked, “What are you really worried about?”
Hillary bit her lip. “I want Daddy to be happy, I do. But Patrick and I really want Santa to come. And he won’t if Daddy keeps saying he doesn’t exist.”
“You can trust Santa to do the right thing.” She reached over and pushed a stand of hair away from Hillary’s eye. “Your father will come around.”
“How do you know that?”
Carol smiled. “Lots of fathers are like yours, it’s hard for them to relax and enjoy the magic of Christmas.”
“Was your father like that too?”
She shook her head. “No. My father loves Christmas more than anyone I know. But I’ve met other fathers who think like yours. But you know what, sweetie, it’s up to us to help him enjoy it. I think he just doesn’t know how.”
Hillary’s smile was one of relief. “I hope you’re right, Miss Kane.”
“I am.” And as frustrated with Ben as she was, Carol still felt compelled to defend him. “You know, your dad is pretty great in every other way, isn’t he?”
Hillary nodded. “I think so.” She yawned. “I’m so glad you’re here with us, Miss Kane.”
“I’m glad too.” She patted the girl’s hand and crossed to the door. She turned out the light switch. “Sweet dreams, honey.”
“Miss Kane?”
“Yes?”
“I love Daddy,” Hillary said, her voice now heavy with sleepiness.
“I know you do,” Carol said. There was a lot to love about Ben Hanson. She pressed her hand against her chest but
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