The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

whole adult life has been hard," she said. "Every bit of it, and when I think about it, I honestly can't see it getting much worse than it is right now."
    After all, Will was gone, back to his pathetic excuse for a mother. Rachel's husband of a dozen years was leaving her, and she spent her days in a rocking chair in a dark corner of her house not seeing anyone or doing anything.
    Sam stiffened, looked harder and sadder than ever. "You'll get yourself hurt again, Rachel."
    "Maybe," she said. "Maybe I'm just doomed to live my life with one hurt after another. I don't know. But these kids don't have anybody right now, and I'm going to help them."
    "What?"
    "I am. I'm doing it," she insisted, standing up to him as she seldom had in their entire marriage.
    He was a good man, good down to the core, both protective and considerate of her. Normally, she would have talked this over with him, and they would have decided together, but not anymore. He was leaving her. She'd have to think for herself, and she might as well start now.
    "It's just for a little while, Sam. For Christmas. Miriam says all her foster homes are full. She doesn't have any other place to put these kids," Rachel said. "They need someone, and I can help them. I'm not doing this for me. I'm doing it for the kids."
    "I won't do it," he insisted.
    "Fine. Don't. It's not like you're at the house that often anyway, anymore. Show up for breakfast and supper, if you want, and I'll feed you. Dump your clothes in the laundry room and I'll make sure they get cleaned. But that's it. I doubt you'll even have to see the children."
    "Rachel!"
    "I mean it," she said, a little breathless at standing up to him. "I'm going to see that they have a safe place to stay and a nice Christmas."
    "No matter what I say?"
    "I know what you have to say about this." And he was leaving anyway.
    Rachel didn't want him to go yet. For once, she wanted her house full of children, wanted to know how that felt. Maybe she'd pretend that these were her children, that this unreal time was her life, the way she'd always believed it would be. Maybe she would find she couldn't do without that. That no matter what the risks involved, she had to reach out and take that chance, one more time, to find the life she'd always imagined for herself.
    These children she would borrow for a time, weave her fantasies around them, her life with children at Christmas, the way she always thought it would be. For that, she supposed she needed Sam's support.
    "I haven't asked you for anything in the longest time," she said softly. "And I promise, I will never ask you for anything ever again. But these children need us, and I need to help them. Give me this, Sam. This one thing."
    "It's a mistake," he insisted.
    "Well, it's not like we've never made a mistake before," she said, then broke off at the look on his face. The hard, harsh, painful look.
    What did he think she meant? That it was all a mistake? Surely he didn't think that. She'd never wanted anyone but him, but she'd always worried that given a choice, he never would have married her. Like a coward, she'd never found the courage to ask. She didn't have it even now after twelve years.
    "It's not like we've never been hurt before," she said, not even looking at him now.
    "That's no reason to get hurt again, Rachel."
    He waited there a long time, looking at her and then looking away. She saw him work for every breath he took, saw him shake his head back and forth, as if he were about to refuse.
    "Just until after Christmas," she said.
    "All right," he said finally. "If that's what you want."
    And it wasn't until later, when she was alone and headed back to the house, that she realized what she'd done, what she'd promised him. If she couldn't ask him for anything else, that meant when the Tuesday after Christmas came and he was ready to go, she couldn't ask him to stay.
    * * *
    Sam stood just outside the back door and stared at the back of the house.
    There were children inside. It literally took his breath away, the thought of children inside his house.
    And they were staying. His wife had decided. She'd feed Sam and do his laundry, and other than that he could just stay out of her way.
    Sam was still smarting from that, still in shock, honestly. She had never made such a monumental decision on her own, never suggested that she'd be just fine without him. He'd spent weeks worrying about that—about whether Rachel would be okay without him.
    But he wasn't gone