Merry Christmas
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Emma Darcy
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Chapter 1
“UNCLE NICK? You asked me what I want for Christmas?”
Kimberly’s belligerent tone was forewarning enough that Nick was not going to like it. His twelve-year-old niece could be as difficult and as trying as a fully fledged teenager. She’d been sulking in her room ever since Rachel had arrived for Sunday brunch and this sudden, dramatic challenge, fired at him from the doorway to the balcony, was not a promise of peace and harmony. The plot, he deduced, was to demand something totally unreasonable and stir contention.
“Mmmh?” he said non-committally, staying behind his newspaper in the hope of taking the sting out of the bait.
Rachel’s newspaper rustled down. Undoubtedly she was looking at Kimberly with a brightly encouraging smile, doing her best to win the girl over. An increasingly futile exercise, Nick thought gloomily.
“I want my real mother.”
The shock of it almost wiped him out. The wallop to his heart took some absorbing and his mind totally fused. Fortunately his hands went into clench mode, keeping the newspaper up in cover defence while the initial impact of the surprise attack gave way to fast and furious thought.
Her real mother...was it a try-on, a fantasy, or sure knowledge? Impossible to tell without looking at her. He composed his face into an expression of puzzled inquiry and lowered his newspaper.
“I beg your pardon?”
Fierce green eyes scorned his bluff. “You know, Uncle Nick. The solicitor would have told you when Mum and Dad died. You couldn’t have become my legal guardian without knowing.”
Still he played it warily. “What am I supposed to know, Kimberly?”
“That I was adopted.”
Absolute certainty looked him straight in the face. It threw Nick into confusion. Kimberly was not supposed to know. His sister had been almost paranoid about keeping the secret. After the fatal accident last year, Nick had thought it best to keep the knowledge from his niece until she was eighteen. After all, losing both parents in traumatic circumstances and learning to live with an uncle was a big enough adjustment to make. Any further erosion of her sense of security did not seem a good idea.
“I have a real mother,” came the vehement assertion, her chin tilting defiantly, her eyes flashing resentment at Rachel before pinning Nick again. “I want to be with her for Christmas.”
He folded the newspaper and set it aside, realising this confrontation was very serious, indeed. ‘How long have you known, Kimberly?” he asked quietly.
“Ages,” she tossed at him.
“Who told you?” It had to be Colin, he thought. His sister’s husband had been a gentle man, dominated by Denise for the most part, yet retaining an innate personal dignity and integrity that would not be shaken over matters he considered “right.”
“No one told me,” Kimberly answered loftily. “I figured it out for myself.”
That rocked him. Had he conceded confirmation too soon? Too easily? How on earth could Kimberly figure it out for herself?
If someone had actually worked at matching a child to a family to ensure an adopted baby looked like natural offspring, Kimberly would be a prime example of outstanding success. She could easily be claimed by his side of the family.
She was long-legged and tall, like himself and his sister. Her black hair had the same springy texture and she even had a widow’s peak hairline, a family feature that went back generations. The eye colour—green instead of brown—was easily explained with Colin’s eyes being hazel. There were untraceable differences—every person was uniquely individual—but if his sister had declared her adopted child her own flesh and blood, Nick would never have doubted it.
So why had Kimberly?
“Would you mind telling me what gave it away to you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calmly controlled.
“The photographs,” she said as though throwing down irrefutable proof.
Nick had no idea what she was talking about.
She flounced forward and picked a cherry off the fruit platter he and Rachel had been sharing, popped it into her mouth and ostentatiously chewed it, hugging her budding chest, aggressively holding the floor, waiting for him to comment. Her green eyes had a fighting gleam.
Rebellion was in the air, from the swing of her ponytail to the brightly checked orange-yellow shorts teamed with a lime green tank top. Kimberly was making statements; right, left and centre. She was not going to be ignored, overlooked or left in the wings of anybody’s life.
Nick glanced at Rachel who had tactfully withdrawn any obvious interest in the family contretemps. From the balcony of his Blues Point apartment, one could take in a vast sweep of Sydney Harbour. Rachel’s gaze was fixed on the water view but her stillness revealed an acute listening and suddenly Nick didn’t want her hearing this, despite their intimate relationship.
“Rachel, this is a very private family matter...”
“Of course.” She rose quickly from her chair, flashing him an understanding smile. “I’ll let myself out and leave you to it, Nick.”
There was so much about Rachel he liked...very capable, highly intelligent, shrewdly perceptive about most people, though his twelve-year-old niece frequently flummoxed her. Even their careers dovetailed, she an investment advisor, he a banker. They were both in their thirties. As a prospective partner in life, Rachel Pearce looked about as good as Nick thought he was going to get, desirable in every sense, yet...the magic connection was missing.
As she stood up, sunshine glinted off her auburn hair, turning the short hairstyle into a glorious, copper cap. Good-looking, always chic, sexy, comfortable with men, her sherry brown eyes invariably warm for him... Nick wondered what more he could want in a woman?
Nevertheless, it didn’t feel right for her to be privy to such sensitive family secrets as Kimberly’s adoption. It involved delving into lives that only he and his niece had known and shared. It was not Rachel’s business. Not yet.
He rose from his chair at the same time, intent on taking command of the situation. “Thanks for your company, Rachel.”
“My pleasure. I hope...” She glanced at Kimberly who was helping herself to another cherry, stiffly and steadfastly ignoring her, then with a last rueful look at Nick, she shrugged her helplessness and turned to leave.
“Even if my real mother doesn’t want me, I won’t go to your old boarding school anyway,” Kimberly shot after her. “So you needn’t think you can get rid of me that easily.”
Rachel froze in the doorway to the living room.
Nick’s heart sustained another breathtaking blow. His mind, however, did have something to clutch on to this time—his conversation with Rachel last night. Kimberly should have been in her room asleep but she must have eavesdropped. This current mood and stance had clearly been fermenting ever since.
“It’s not a matter of getting rid of you, Kimberly,” he said tersely. “It’s a matter of what’s best for you.”
“You mean what’s best for you,” she retorted. “And best for her.” Her eyes flared fierce resentment. “I’m not stupid, Uncle Nick.”
“Precisely. Which is why I’d like you to start your secondary education at a good school. To give you the best teachers and the best education.”
“Most girls would consider it a privilege to go to PLC,” Rachel argued with some heat. “It’s certainly been advantageous to me.”
“Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” Kimberly retaliated. “Anything to shunt me out of the way. You think I don’t know when I’m not wanted?”
“That’s enough, Kimberly,” Nick warned. Rachel had tried to reach out to his niece. There just didn’t seem to be any meeting place. Or she wasn’t granted one.
“Why boarding school, Uncle Nick?” came the pointed challenge. “If it’s only education you’re thinking of, why couldn’t I go as a day pupil? PLC is right here in Sydney.”
“You’re on your own too much, Kimberly,” he answered. “I thought the companionship of other girls would round out your life more.”
“You thought?” An accusing glare at Rachel. “Or Ms. Pearce suggested?”
“I was going to discuss it with you after Christmas.”
The accusative glare swung onto him. “You told her to go ahead and try to get me in.”
“That’s still not decisive, Kimberly. And you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”
“If Mum had wanted me to go to an expensive, private boarding school, she would have booked me in years ago.” Tears glittered in her eyes. “You don’t want me. Not like Mum and Dad did.”
The recognition of unresolved grief was swift and sharp. His stomach clenched. He couldn’t replace her parents. No one could. He missed them, too, his only sibling who’d virtually brought him up, and Colin who’d always given him affectionate support and approval. It had been a struggle this past year, trying to merge his life with a twelve-year-old’s, but not once had he begrudged the task or the responsibility.
“I do want you, Kimberly,” he assured her gravely.
She shook her head, her face screwing up with conflicting and painful emotions. “I was dumped on you and now you want to dump me somewhere else.”
“No.”
She swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the wetness aside. “You won’t have to do anything if my real mother wants me. You can give me up and have your lady friend free and clear of somebody else’s daughter.” She glared balefully at Rachel. “I don’t want to be stuck with you any more than you want to be stuck with me, Ms. Pearce.”
Rachel heaved a sigh and rolled her eyes at Nick, powerless to stop the hostility aimed at her.
“Just go, Rachel,” he advised quietly.
“Sorry, Nick.”
“Not your fault.”
“No, it’s my fault,” Kimberly cried, her voice rising toward shrill hysteria. “I spoil it for both of you. So I’m the one who should go.”
The arm Nick swung out to stop her was left hanging uselessly as she rushed to the doorway and ducked past Rachel into the living room. He swiftly followed her but she ran full pelt to the front door, pausing only to yell back at him.
“If you care anything at all about me, Uncle Nick, you’ll do it. You’ll get my real mother for me for Christmas! Then maybe it could turn out right for all of us.”
