in the room, so he didn’t have to explain. Besides, when he saw what Ryan was holding, Lance didn’t feel much like laughing anymore. He’d know that bear anywhere.
“Where did he get that?” Lance looked over at Erin.
“It was Lily’s. You and I aren’t the only ones who miss her. He doesn’t really remember her, but when he was little, he used to cry for his Lily, so I started letting him sleep with her favorite teddy bear. And now it’s his.”
Ryan squeezed his teddy to his chest. “Her name is Lily. She’s my Lily bear.”
That’s what Erin used to call Lily. Her little Lily bear. Lance had thought it a silly name and now hearing it made his heart ache.
“You gave him Lily’s bear?” Lance stared at Erin.
“I did what I thought was best. She’s not here to enjoy it, and it makes him happy, so what’s wrong with that?”
Lance didn’t answer. What was he supposed to say? He couldn’t exactly take what was obviously a beloved toy away from Ryan and yet it didn’t seem fair.
“I sleep with her every night,” Ryan said. “Except for last night, and I really missed her.” Ryan squeezed the bear to his chest. “I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”
“Bears are for babies,” Dylan said, handing Erin a glass of water. “Here’s your drink, like you asked.”
“I’m not a baby. Lily bear is my special friend.”
Erin patted the seat next to her. “Of course she is. And we don’t think you’re a baby.” Erin looked over at Dylan. “Apologize to your brother.”
“Sorry,” Dylan said.
Ryan grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair then climbed up onto the couch and snuggled next to Erin. She put her arm around the little boy in such a maternal way that it made Lance’s heart hurt. How many times had he seen her do that with Lily? She’d been that way with both boys, as well, and the thing he’d always appreciated about her was how loving she’d been to all the children.
Lance hadn’t had that kind of love growing up. His parents, not the touchy-feely type, were more interested in showing off the trophies of their children’s accomplishments. Just like with Christmas. It wasn’t about celebrating the reason for the season, but about impressing their neighbors and clients. He’d always promised himself that if he had children, they’d be part of a loving family. He thought they’d given that to Lily; one of the small comforts he’d had with her short life. As much as he hadn’t wanted the divorce, sometimes he wondered if Erin had been right in pursuing it, given that he didn’t think they were capable of loving each other that way anymore.
Erin whispered something in Ryan’s ear then Ryan looked over at Dylan. “I accept your apology,” he said.
Sometimes it was easy to forget the things Lance had against Erin, especially when he was reminded of the kind and loving woman she was. He just didn’t know how that translated to being at peace with her. His counselor had told him that he needed to forgive Erin for what happened to Lily. But as much as Lance wanted to believe that Erin had learned from her mistakes, it was clear she still didn’t always think her decisions through.
If she were responsible, and thought about things logically, she wouldn’t be arguing with him over taking care of herself. She’d be more focused on getting well and taking care of the children than on some crazy idea of what she thought Christmas was supposed to be like.
Erin looked up at him. “If you can get me my pain pills, I should go ahead and take one now, before the pain gets worse. If you don’t mind, I’d also like you to put on a movie for Ryan and me to watch. Neither of us slept well last night, so we’re just going to veg out in front of the TV.”
Ryan cradled the bear in his arms as he tucked the blanket around him and Erin. It was a cozy picture. As much as Lance wanted to nurse the feelings of hurt, his heart melted a little when Ryan bent and kissed the top of his bear’s head.
Lily was dead. What did it matter that her bear was providing comfort to another child?
Once Erin was settled with her movie, Lance got out his laptop. Even though he was technically on a leave of absence, he still liked to keep up on as much as he could. But he found, as the cartoon character of Ebenezer Scrooge came on the screen, he was more focused on the movie than on his work. Erin would probably have something to say about that, but when he turned to look at her, she’d already fallen asleep. Cuddled with the little boy, she was the picture of everything he wished his life could have been had it not been cruelly taken from him.
Maybe what people didn’t understand about Lance, or about these famous characters of Christmas, was that their perceived badness didn’t happen in a vacuum. There were reasons for the pain, and it wasn’t so simple to just get over it, as everyone seemed to want them to do. Maybe it happened in the movies, but the people in the movies didn’t wake up every morning to an emptiness that nothing could ever fill.
His counselor wanted him to make peace with Erin. He still didn’t know what that meant, but he’d like to think that when he talked to her next, and he told her about taking care of Erin, she’d see this as doing just that. Surely taking care of the person who’d done the most to hurt you was a sign that you’d made peace with your past.
When Erin woke, there was a fire in the fireplace, the television was off and the boys were gone. This was why she hadn’t wanted to take the pain medicine. It made her too sleepy and she couldn’t pay attention or keep track of the boys.
Lance used to ask her how he would know that she had learned from her mistake and would never fall asleep while watching a child again. She hadn’t had an answer at the time, but living with Leah and her boys, she was always on edge if she was supposed to be watching them. True, Lance was there, but sometimes she felt that he looked at her like he was just waiting for her to mess up again. Leah often told her that even Mary lost track of a young Jesus when he went off to go preach in the synagogue. Surely if the mother of the son of God didn’t always do it right then Erin could give herself a break, as well.
Just try telling that to Lance. She shifted her weight, trying to see the best way to scoot herself off the couch and move around. She could hear laughter coming from the kitchen. It seemed selfish to spoil their fun by calling out for them. But no sooner had she flipped the lever to put the foot of the recliner down than Lance stepped into the living room, wearing the reindeer apron the boys had purchased for her last Christmas.
“Let me help you,” he said.
“What are you guys doing in there?”
He shrugged. “Making cookies. The boys showed me a Christmas binder, and while I know you want to be part of the cookie-making process, there are a lot of cookies to be baked, so we went ahead and started. What do you need to make so many Christmas cookies for, anyway?”
Lance had started making the cookies? “You don’t know how to make anything that doesn’t come out of a box.”
“They say necessity is the mother of invention. It’s too expensive to eat out all the time, and I don’t like eating frozen dinners day in and day out. So I watched a few videos on the internet and, while I’ll never be a chef, I won’t starve.”
