Single Mom's New Year Wish
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Sue MacKay
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PROLOGUE
SANTA SMILED AT the boy climbing onto his knee. ‘Hello, young man. What’s your name?’
‘Jarrod, and I want a bike for Christmas. It’s got to have lights and a bell and bags for carrying my stuff.’
Nicolas Reid stifled a groan. Another kid with high expectations of Father Christmas. It was normal, but wasn’t there any kid out there who wanted a toy train or a doll that didn’t come with every bell and whistle that had been invented? If he had children he’d want them to be happy, but not expecting to be given anything and everything they asked for. He’d be a bit of a softie, but they wouldn’t win every demand they made. Surveying the room, chock-full of excited children, longing flared. A family of his own. Wouldn’t that be the best Christmas present he could have? Wasn’t happening.
‘Santa?’
‘What colour bike would you like, Jarrod?’ Why had he let Evelyn, his best mate’s wife, talk him into getting decked out in stinking-hot clothes in summer—not even thinking about the fake beard making his chin itch—to sit here being tripped over, elbowed, and hearing ‘I want, I want’ a gazillion times?
‘Black’s a cool colour.’
‘You reckon?’
The kid looked at him and grinned. ‘Yep. Can I have a black helmet to match?’
‘I’ll put it on the list, but I can’t promise you’ll get what you’ve asked for. I haven’t got lots of bikes in my shed.’
The boy leaned closer and said quietly, ‘Mum can hear me telling you what I want and she’ll get it.’
Cheeky little blighter. Nicolas found himself smiling at a memory of saying much the same thing to Santa when he was little. He glanced across at the man and woman standing to the side of the plastic fence surrounding Santa’s seat. They were smiling and taking photos of their son sitting on the decorated stool beside him, no doubt to be framed and put on the wall. ‘Okay, Jarrod, time to give someone else a turn. Merry Christmas and ho-ho-ho. Here’s a candy stick.’
‘Merry Christmas, Santa.’ The boy slid off the stool and ran across to his parents. ‘Santa’s cool.’
Nicolas looked to the line of youngsters waiting their turn to tell him what they expected to find at the end of the bed on the twenty-fifth. These little guys were having the time of their life at the preschool Christmas party and talking to Santa was the highlight of their day, while all he could think was how many more kids were in the line. Was he jaded, or what? What about getting over his distrust of women brought on by his ex, and find someone to settle down and have a family with? He’d love a brood of his own kids. Unfortunately he’d learned it was safer going with a light and fun lifestyle. No power punches to the heart.
‘Hello, Santa.’ A shy voice brought him back to what was important today—making the little kids happy.
‘Hello, young lady. Do you want to talk to me from there or are you going to climb up on the stool beside me?’ Not every child was keen to do that, and he respected their choices.
‘Can I sit on the stool?’ the cute little girl dressed all in pink asked.
‘Of course you can. Use those steps to get up. What’s your name?’ Nicolas asked as she shuffled onto the narrow seat.
‘I’m Mia.’
‘Mia, what would you like for Christmas?’
She looked beyond the fence, and Nicolas’s gaze tracked in the same direction to land on a brunette beauty watching the child, presumably her daughter, her face full of love. Love that struck him hard. It was beautiful, uncomplicated, with no expectations whatsoever. What was it like to be on the receiving end of that? Did she have any to spare? To have a woman look at him with all that love would set him up for life, add to his motivation to be the best he could, to share himself. The look in that woman’s eyes for this little tot was so special, so deep, it stole his breath away, and made him hungry for love in a way he hadn’t known since his failed marriage.
Then Mia leaned close and said, ‘I want a cuddle from my daddy.’
Nicolas blinked. Pain knifed his heart. This girl wanted a hug from her father. Not a shiny new bike or a fancy doll’s house, but a hug from the most important man in her life. Every child unreservedly deserved to be loved by their parents. The one thing he suspected she was not going to get any day of the week, let alone Christmas Day. He should’ve been careful of what he’d wished for only seconds ago. His arm inadvertently pressed into Mia’s. It wasn’t a present he could pretend to consider delivering. What the hell did he tell her? Again he glanced at the mother. Shock had widened her eyes. She was obviously used to hearing her daughter’s quiet voice in noisy places. She looked at him, gave a desperate shake of her head. Which didn’t help his predicament. The one thing he wasn’t going to do was promise to deliver a hug from a father who obviously wasn’t in the picture. But he didn’t know how to answer the child without adding to her pain.
‘Santa?’ Mia was staring at him with big brown eyes, hope dying right before him. ‘Can’t you get me what I want?’
His heart squeezed tight. Of all the requests he’d had in the last thirty minutes, this was the one he really wanted to make happen, and the one he couldn’t deliver a promise on. ‘Let me see what can be done, Mia. It’s not an easy present to find.’ He mightn’t know how, but hell, he wanted to make her smile with happiness.
‘Mia, tell Santa about the doll’s kitchen you want.’ The mother now stood a metre away, her gaze fixed on her daughter, worry staining that love.
The little girl exhaled a slow sigh, making him want to hug her to remove the sadness.
‘A doll’s kitchen, eh?’ Nicolas said, relieved to have a prompt. ‘Are you going to cook for your dolls?’
‘Don’t be silly, Santa.’ She gave him a little smile, while the sadness still lingered in her eyes. ‘It’s a pretend kitchen so I will pretend to make breakfast for my favourite dolls. There will be pots and plates and spoons too.’ She was off and running, excitement beginning to light up her eyes. ‘I can’t wait.’
‘Have you got a favourite colour?’
Mia tapped her chin with one finger. ‘I think pink.’
Nicolas glanced over to the mother. The love in her expression as she watched her daughter made his heart pound with a mix of envy and sadness. This woman adored her girl. His parents used to look at him like that when he was a child, but it had faded some as he grew up and didn’t follow their dreams for him. They didn’t stop loving him, just not as openly, and never as freely as they used to. ‘So a kitchen?’ he said loudly to get confirmation in case he’d read the situation all wrong and the mother had only been trying to divert Mia from wanting her father.
The woman nodded once, firmly. Her dark brown curls were cut in a bob that finished below her ears, where a set of opal earrings swayed against her cheeks when her head moved. Captivating.
‘Santa’s going to get your present arranged for Christmas.’ Fingers crossed her mother managed to get one at this time of year. The shops were crazy busy already. He didn’t want to end this but there was a line of impatient kids waiting and he had no reason to continue talking to a little girl who wanted her father’s love, and whose mother had him wanting to know more about her. ‘Here’s a candy stick. Merry Christmas, ho-ho-ho.’
‘Thank you, Santa. Please put the kitchen at the end of my bed.’ The child slid off the stool and ran to her mother.
Nicolas watched Mia wrap her arms around her mother’s legs and gaze up at her. ‘I’m getting a kitchen for my dolls, Mummy. Santa said so.’
‘Did he? That’s awesome.’ The woman glanced over at him, her love for her daughter back in place. ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed.
‘No problem.’ He looked away. Falling deeper into the gaze that was meant for her girl, not him, would be pointless. He wasn’t in the market for a relationship, even if it turned out to be the best thing to happen in a while. His ex had taught him never to give his heart away again, unless he was prepared to risk having it thrown back in his face.
Nicolas beckoned the next child forward, hoping there weren’t any more shocks in store. Being a parent must be a lot of hard work, with emotions obviously all over the place at times, but Mia’s mother seemed to have her daughter’s request under control. Where was the father? Why wasn’t he around to hand out hugs? Nicolas disliked the man already. Being there for his child would be a priority for him. Always. No matter what else was going on in his life. Unless the man wasn’t alive. Could be the reason behind the child’s sadness. If only he had a magic wand to make that emotion disappear for ever and replace it with happiness. Likewise for the mother. Her shock had affected him to the point he was thinking about her and his past all at once.
Having children had been on his radar when he was married but his wife was on another page without saying so. They’d been trying for Valerie to get pregnant for months with no luck. He’d suggested they start down the path of fertility tests. That was when Valerie told him she’d been offered a job in another city, and she was taking it. It had been a shock, but he’d listened to her enthusiasm and figured he could forget what she’d done. Her career in interior design was just starting out but already she’d been doing well. They were married. That meant supporting each other, so when he said he’d start looking for work in the same city she was heading to, Valerie shocked him further. She told him she’d begun an affair with a guy working at the company she was going to and she didn’t want Nicolas in her life any more. The other man was her new love. That was when he’d also learned she hadn’t stopped taking the pill, had only said so to stop him talking about them trying for a family. So much for believing in love and being on side with his wife. Turned out he’d had no idea who this woman really was. He’d trusted her too easily.
‘Hello, Santa. Can I have a trampoline?’ A young boy stared up at him with wide eyes and a small smile.
Nicolas did the quick glance-at-the-parents thing, and received a sharp head-shake from Dad. ‘Come up here and tell me your name first, eh?’
‘Can I stay down here?’
‘Sure you can.’
The kid relaxed a little. ‘I’m Archie. I don’t really want a trampoline. I want one of those building sets to make a jet plane.’
‘A big plane that swoops down?’
‘That’s it.’
Nicolas saw head-nodding going on from the parents, and got on with the job of making this boy happy. How many more were there? He could do with a coffee and chilling out with some of the parents he knew from working at the same medical centre. Hopefully that would push away the vision of Mia’s mother’s face. Lovely when she wasn’t looking stunned. Somehow he doubted that image would disappear any time soon. It was so real he had a desire to help her. It was as though there was a connection with her, which was blatantly untrue. Did she feel she’d failed her daughter in some way? He must’ve failed Valerie somehow if she had to go searching for love elsewhere.
Where was Mia’s mother now? A quick survey of the room showed her talking to Joachim, the GP who’d started in the Urgent Care medical centre a fortnight before Nicolas had taken a month’s leave to work on his vineyard. Was she a doctor too? Or a nurse? Where did she work? Most of the parents of the children attending this preschool worked at the hospital in one capacity or another. She might be a lab tech or a secretary.
She was laughing at something Joachim said, her eyes wide, and he felt a pang of longing. Which was so unlike him, his brain had to be fried under the hot hat and beard.
‘Hello, Santa. What are you getting for Christmas?’ A lad dressed in an elf’s costume stood in front of him, hands on hips with a wide grin from ear to ear.
Nicolas grinned back. It was fun with these kids. Mostly. ‘A late morning sleep-in while you’re opening your presents.’
