Page 69 of Her Christmas Wish
She hurt inside for his having hurt.
Growing up with that helplessness...with a loving guardian who taught him to be capable, but not being able to foresee, to prevent, her death.
“Every good ounce in me is due to her,” he said then, meeting her gaze head-on.
It was a tragic tale, and a beautiful story, too. “I’m guessing she’s looking down on you. And is so proud of you, Gray.”
The shake of his head, his unrelenting gaze, stopped her words.
“After a while, living like that, with no real sense of control over my future, or even daily activities...I resented it sometimes.”
“Of course you did. Who wouldn’t?”
“She knew. In that last year, every time I had to stay home, she’d apologize to me. There she was, having given the last years of her life wholly to me, losing her daughter because of me...in pain...still getting up, cooking and cleaning, anytime she could. She gave me her last breath...apologizing because I couldn’t go to the damned prom? Because sheknewI resented her for that.”
Sage quieted inside. An almost deathly quiet.
More was on the way. She could feel it emanating from him.
“I’m great at the small stuff, Sage. The momentary things. I can care about all my patients and relate to their young human companions. Because it’s only for the moment. Or the hour...”
She could see the train about to wreck. “That’s not true,” she butted in. Trying desperately to stop the oncoming crash. “You do it all day, every day. It’s your life, Gray.” She waved to the top of her desk. “As embodied by all of the energy going into getting it back for you.”
He wasn’t listening. His shaking head told her so. But she just kept talking. “Not just from me, and others who knew you, but, because of what you’d already built, you’re getting new energy from total strangers, too.”
“The job is my responsibility,” he told her. “Not the individual. I can always call off for a day, have another veterinarian fill in for me.”
“Have you ever done that?”
“I’m also off every evening, weekends, anytime I take vacations...”
She had a flash to her sense of freedom the other night. How much she’d missed a little time for herself. “Everyone needs time off, Gray. Even I...”
He stood, cutting off her words. “No, Sage. Hear me. I can’t bear the thought of being responsible, full-time, for another life. It makes me feel like I’m suffocating inside. The idea of living my life waiting for the resentment to hit...it’s like someone who’s terminal, waiting for death.”
As his grandmother had been. As he’d watched her be. Sage saw him standing there and didn’t recognize him for a second. He was Gray. And was changing right before her eyes.
“That’s why you broke our engagement...” She wanted to stand, too. But didn’t trust her legs to hold her. “You were resenting me.”
“No!” His obvious frustration had her attention. And sent relief shooting through her, even while she remained on full emotional alert. “Children are wholly dependent. Vulnerable. Unable to take a different path than the one you put them on until they’re grown.”
He stopped, ran a hand through the always messy, thick strands of hair that she’d once envisioned being free to touch for the rest of her life.
And then continued, “You’re missing my point, Sage. When you’re an adult, you’re responsible for yourself. But children...you have them, and then the things that happen to you that are out of your control, it’ll affect them adversely, shape the entire rest of their lives, and you won’t be able to do anything about it. I just...”
Dropping his hand to the top of her desk, he just quit talking. Standing there. As though giving up.
Reminding her of something he’d said about his mother. About her death being a blessing because she’d always been so tired.
“Wait a minute. Are you talking about your mother resenting you? Or you resenting having to care for your grandmother?”
The look he gave her was odd. Something new. As though he didn’t understand her. Didn’t know her well enough to figure her out. He sank back down to his chair, continuing to watch her.
As though, if he looked long enough, the answers would suddenly appear, written across her forehead? Or she’d speak them.
She waited. Couldn’t let him off the hook.
“The thought of being like my mother, responsible for shaping a young life, knowing that if I screw up I screw the kid up forever, I just can’t see that. Even if I only make his future more difficult, or don’t have the capacity to love him enough, it’s not fair to that little one who had no choice in the matter.” He shook his head. “And after caring for my grandmother—knowing that I have the propensity to resent someone I love—I can’t allow myself to create a life.” Another head shake.
