Chapter 17 - The Christmas Dinner Nobody Invited Her To
My mother called before I reached my car.
"I already told her no," she said.
I leaned against the driver's door.
"What exactly did she ask?"
"She said the families needed to come together before this became permanent."
"It is permanent."
"I know."
My mother sounded angrier than I had heard her in years.
"She suggested Christmas Eve because emotions would be softer."
I closed my eyes.
Of course Linda believed a holiday could be used as leverage.
"Did she say Daniel agreed?"
"She implied it."
That wording mattered now.
"I'll ask him through Rebecca."
"You don't have to."
"I want to know."
Rebecca contacted Daniel's attorney.
The answer arrived forty minutes later.
Daniel knew nothing about Linda's plan.
His attorney added that Daniel had explicitly asked his mother not to contact me, my family, or my workplace on his behalf.
At 5:12 p.m., Daniel called Paige.
I only learned the details later.
By 5:40, Linda was no longer invited to Daniel's apartment for Christmas Eve.
At 6:03, she arrived at my parents' house anyway.
I happened to be there.
Mom and I were wrapping gifts at the dining table when the doorbell rang.
Dad opened the door.
Linda stood on the porch carrying a large red gift bag and our wedding album.
Thomas Brooks stood several feet behind her looking furious and exhausted.
"Linda," Dad said evenly.
"We told you this wasn't appropriate."
"Five minutes."
She lifted the album as if it were evidence.
"That is all I am asking."
My father did not move.
"Hannah?"
He let the decision belong to me.
That mattered.
I stood in the hallway looking at Linda.
Part of me wanted to close the door.
Another part was tired of people carrying unfinished conversations toward me.
"Five minutes," I said.
Dad stepped aside.
Linda entered.
Thomas followed only after apologizing to my father.
My mother stayed beside me.
No one offered coffee.
Linda placed the wedding album on the dining table and opened it.
The first page showed Daniel and me beneath the oak trees.
She pushed it toward me.
"Look at him."
I did not.
"Linda."
"Please."
Her voice broke.
"Just look."
I looked.
Daniel was smiling at me in the photograph.
I remembered exactly what had happened that hour.
The security camera.
The unsent email.
The microphone.
The promise to meet Emily after the reception.
A photograph could preserve a second while hiding everything around it.
"He loves you," Linda said.
"I know."
My answer startled her.
"Then why are you doing this?"
My mother made a furious sound.
I held up a hand.
"Because love is not the only requirement."
"Marriage is work."
"Yes."
"People make mistakes."
"Yes."
"Then why won't you let him repair it?"
"Because repair requires both people to want the same house back."
Linda stared at me.
"And I don't."
Her face crumpled.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear instead of anger.
"You don't mean that."
"I do."
"You're hurt."
"I am."
"You're angry."
"Sometimes."
"Then don't make a permanent decision from temporary emotions."
I almost smiled sadly.
"I have been hearing some version of that sentence since my wedding night."
Thomas stepped forward.
"Linda, stop."
She turned on him.
"You don't get to tell me to stop."
"I do when you're using our marriage to pressure her."
The room went silent.
Linda's face hardened.
"I never mentioned our marriage."
"You didn't have to."
Thomas looked at me.
"Hannah, I owe you an apology."
"Thomas, you don't have to."
"I do."
He took a breath.
"I cheated on Linda before our wedding."
Linda closed her eyes.
Thomas continued.
"Not an emotional affair."
"Not a kiss."
"I slept with someone else."
My mother looked away.
Dad remained still.
"I confessed because the other woman threatened to tell Linda."
Thomas's voice was quiet.
"Sound familiar?"
Linda whispered, "Don't."
He did anyway.
"Linda married me three weeks later."
"I spent years telling myself that proved she forgave me."
"She spent years telling herself staying proved she was strong."
He looked at his wife.
"Neither of us dealt with what actually happened."
Linda's eyes filled with tears.
"We built a family."
"Yes."
"We had a good life."
"Parts of it were very good."
"Then don't stand there and make forty years sound like a mistake."
Thomas shook his head.
"I'm not."
"I'm saying staying didn't magically heal what we refused to discuss."
His voice cracked.
"And I watched you teach our son that getting through the wedding was more important than giving his bride the truth."
Linda looked as if he had struck her.
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang again.
My father opened it.
Daniel stood on the porch.
He looked from Dad to me, then to the wedding album on the table.
His face hardened.
"Mom."
Linda turned.
"You came."
"Paige told me where you were."
Hope flashed across Linda's face.
"Good."
She reached for him.
"Tell Hannah."
Daniel did not move toward her.
"Tell her what?"
"That you want to fix this."
"She knows."
"Then tell her you're changing."
"She knows that too."
Linda's voice rose.
"Then tell her not to throw away four years because of one terrible night."
Daniel's expression changed.
"It wasn't one night."
"Daniel."
"It was fourteen months."
"It was lying about Atlanta."
"It was deleting messages."
"It was using Samuel's name at work."
"It was planning to ask Hannah for financial support after I thought marriage made it harder for her to say no."
Linda stared at him.
"You don't have to list every failure."
"Yes, I do."
His voice stayed calm.
"Because every time you call it one mistake, you make it sound like Hannah is punishing me for slipping once."
He looked at me.
"She isn't."
Something tightened in my chest.
Linda started crying.
"I am trying to save your marriage."
Daniel's face softened, but he did not give ground.
"You are trying to save the outcome you want."
"That is not the same thing."
Linda shook her head.
"You will regret this."
"Maybe."
"You'll wake up in five years and realize she was the best thing that ever happened to you."
Daniel looked at me again.
"I already know that."
The room became completely still.
He turned back to his mother.
"Knowing that does not entitle me to her."
I had to look away.
Linda's shoulders dropped.
For the first time since the wedding, she looked defeated rather than angry.
"I was trying to protect you."
Daniel nodded slowly.
"I know."
"You were always so hard on yourself."
"I know."
"I thought if you just got through the wedding, you'd settle down."
"I know."
"I didn't mean to hurt her."
Daniel's voice became quiet.
"Neither did I."
He paused.
"That didn't stop us."
Linda covered her mouth.
My mother looked at me.
I could feel tears on my face but had not noticed when they started.
Thomas put a hand on Linda's shoulder.
She pulled away at first.
Then she let him.
After a long silence, Linda looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
The words sounded unfamiliar in her mouth.
I believed she meant them in that moment.
I also knew apology did not require access.
"Thank you."
I did not hug her.
I did not tell her everything was okay.
It wasn't.
Dad closed the wedding album.
"I think five minutes became enough."
Linda nodded.
Thomas guided her toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked at Daniel.
"You coming?"
Daniel shook his head.
"In a minute."
After they left, Daniel stood awkwardly in my parents' hallway.
"I'm sorry she came here."
"I know you didn't send her."
"Paige said she had the album."
He glanced at it.
"I didn't know what she planned to do with it."
My father spoke from the dining room.
"Daniel, do you want coffee?"
I looked at Dad in surprise.
Daniel did too.
"No, sir."
Then he corrected himself.
"Thank you."
Dad nodded and left us alone near the door.
Daniel put his hands in his coat pockets.
"I got a job."
I blinked.
"You did?"
"A smaller development firm in Savannah."
"Project coordinator, not manager."
"Less money."
A faint, embarrassed smile appeared.
"Very little strategic influence."
I almost smiled back.
"Maybe that's not terrible for a while."
"That's what my therapist said."
We stood there in an almost normal silence.
Then he said, "I told them why Alder & Finch fired me."
"Everything?"
"Enough that they could call Peter and verify it."
"Why would they hire you?"
"Apparently being good at schedules and contractor coordination still has some market value."
This time I did smile.
A small one.
Daniel saw it.
He did not treat it as hope.
That mattered.
"I'm glad," I said.
"Me too."
He looked toward the closed wedding album.
"I'm not going to ask you to change your mind."
"Thank you."
"I mean it."
"I know."
His eyes filled slightly.
"Merry Christmas, Hannah."
"Merry Christmas, Daniel."
He left.
I stood at the window and watched him walk to his car.
He stopped once beneath the porch light.
For one terrible second, the image from our wedding night returned.
Daniel beneath another porch light.
Phone in hand.
Overnight bag.
Black SUV waiting.
This time he did not answer a phone.
He simply got into his car and drove away alone.
Three days after Christmas, Rebecca called.
Daniel's attorney had sent over a revised separation agreement.
He was waiving any claim to my inheritance, any reimbursement tied to the canceled home purchase, and any dispute over the wedding gifts that came from my family.
He also agreed to streamline the divorce as soon as the required separation period allowed.
"There's one unusual instruction," Rebecca said.
"What?"
"Daniel left a sealed letter with his attorney."
My stomach tightened.
"For me?"
"Yes."
"Why not send it now?"
"He instructed them not to release it unless and until the divorce becomes final."
I sat silently.
"Do you know what's in it?"
"No."
Rebecca paused.
"And apparently neither does his attorney."
May you like
The letter would remain sealed for almost a year.
By the time I finally opened it, I would understand why Daniel had waited until he no longer had anything to gain from the words inside.
