6 Mountain Brothers for Christmas

I hadn’t seen him so angry in a long time. Ever since we admitted our attraction for each other, his mood had improved. He no longer walked around the house moody and standoffish. There were times when he was distant, but he was rarely angry.

“Listen,” I said, clearing my throat. “I know it’s been tough, trying to get this book written, but you’ll do it. I know you will. You just have to keep pushing through.”

“The book is fine,” he said shortly.

“It’s obviously not,” I said. “You’re clearly upset, and that’s okay.”

“I’m fine,” he said. His voice was low and his face so tight that I didn’t know what to do to break through his wall.

“Sean,” I said. “You can talk to me. I just want to help.”

Without another word, he stood up and marched down the hallway. He didn’t so much as glance behind him before he reached his study and disappeared inside. I jumped when he slammed the door. As I stared at the closed door from my spot on the couch, I thought about going after him.

It wasn’t long before I thought better of it. Sean was still grieving Telissa, and I knew he needed some space, but it was hard. I wanted to be there for him, to help him through this difficult time. I couldn’t do that if he slammed doors between us. With a sigh, I got up and made my way upstairs to check on the kids.

Tommy was finishing up his shower and Sarah was still playing in her room. I leaned against the doorframe to watch her. She was dressing her dolls in different outfits and tying their hair back in messy braids. The sight of her playing so peacefully brought a smile to my face.

When Tommy came out of the bathroom, clean and dressed, I wrapped him in a hug and held him tightly. My mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of Sean, but being with the kids helped me focus. If Sean wanted my help, he would ask for it. There wasn’t anything I could do except encourage him to let me in. If I pushed too hard, he might lash out, or worse. He could end things between us and fire me again. Then what? I just promised Tommy and Sarah I would stick around as long as they wanted me to. I couldn’t leave them now.

As dinnertime rolled around, I took the kids downstairs to eat. Sean didn’t leave his study. I went down the hall and knocked, calling out that dinner was ready, but he didn’t answer. I strained my ears, trying to hear movement inside but there was none. I sighed and turned around.

Tommy, Sarah, and I ate dinner alone that night. We laughed and talked and planned our next adventure. Sarah wanted to go visit the snow cone stand again, but Tommy insisted on a bug hunt. By the time dinner was over, the kids were exhausted. Sean still hadn’t emerged from his study.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - SEAN

From my study, I heard Emily washing the dishes. She’d already put the kids to bed and came back downstairs to clean up. I sighed and leaned back in my chair, listening to the sounds of her moving around in the kitchen. She was so close and yet, she felt so far away. I knew I’d been rude to her earlier, but I couldn’t help it. My frustration was getting worse with every passing second, and I couldn’t stop it.

All day, I tried to write just one sentence, just one word. My first draft was far from finished. I’d barely started it, and when I read over what I had so far, it was awful. Around two o’clock this afternoon, I trashed it and tried to start over. The only problem was, I had nowhere to start.

My head felt heavy with my own expectations, and I couldn’t clear it. I kept seeing Telissa’s face swimming before me, confusing me and making me ever angrier. Tommy and Sarah needed her so much, but she was gone. They didn’t have a mother to care for them like they deserved. It wasn’t fair or right, and all I wanted to do was change it.

But I couldn’t.

Instead, I could only try to write this book and hope that it might help other kids somehow. The story was so important that I didn’t want to mess it up. Writing for children was proving to be much harder than I’d anticipated had to find a way to craft the story so they would understand, so they could make sense of their grief. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but I never imagined it would be this hard.

I groaned and ran my hands over my face. My notebook was open in front of me, as well as my computer. I’d been switching between the two all evening, just trying to find a spark of inspiration. There was none. My writer’s block was so formidable that it scared away all inspiration and motivation. I ended up sitting alone in a dark study, staring at the ceiling and wishing for a visit from my muse.

As I sat there, I suddenly realized Emily was quiet. There was no longer any noise coming from the kitchen. I frowned and sat up, straining my ears to listen. I assumed she’d gone upstairs to bed, and I wasn’t surprised. After the way I treated her, I couldn’t expect her to stop in and see me tonight.

Just as the thought entered my mind, there was a soft knock on the door. I smiled, feeling relieved, and cleared my throat.

“Come in!” I called.

Emily pushed open the door and stepped inside. She didn’t meet my eyes, but she forced a smile on her face as she walked over to me. There was a plate of food in her hands. She set it down on my desk and then finally looked at me with hesitant eyes. I immediately felt worse about my behavior this afternoon.

“Thank you,” I said, gesturing toward the food. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I figured you hadn’t eaten much today,” she said with a shrug. “You need something if you’re going to keep going tonight.”

“I don’t know if I will.” I sighed. “I haven’t been able to write a word all day.”

Emily’s face softened as she sat down in an empty chair. She was sitting across from me, with the desk separating us, and I hated it. I wanted her closer. I wished she would come over and sit in my lap like she’d done before. I knew she was still upset about earlier so I didn’t push it. Instead, I just looked at her softly.

“I know I was an ass earlier,” I said. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, Emily.”

She didn’t say anything. She just continued to look at me as if she were waiting for me. Maybe she was. Or maybe she just knew I had more to say. I sighed and leaned back in my chair again.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said. “I keep sitting down to write this book, but nothing comes out. Sometimes, I wonder if this was even a good idea. Me being a writer. I mean, what was I thinking?”