A Chesapeake Shores Christmas by Sherryl Woods Page A

They’re dying to get your agreement. How can we put them off?”
    “We’ll just say the plans haven’t been finalized. That’s innocuous enough.”
    His gaze narrowed. “You won’t say we’ve canceled?”
    “No.”
    “Or postponed?”
    “No, not until after we’ve talked on Friday and settled a few things.”
    He nodded. “That’ll do.”
    “I’m only agreeing to that because I don’t want the holiday ruined and I don’t want a lot of tension between us. Is that understood? My concerns are still there. I won’t claim our happiness at the cost of losing our son.”
    “Now you’re being dramatic,” he grumbled, not able to hide his impatience. “Connor’s not lost. He’s just stubborn.”
    “If we’re not careful, it could come to that,” Megan insisted. Before he could respond, she held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “But from this moment on, the topic’s off-limits until Friday.”
    Mick winced at the determination in her voice. “Agreed,” he said, because he had no choice. He was no more eager to start a big family hullabaloo than she was.

6
    T hanksgiving day dawned with crisp fall air, bright blue skies and just a scattering of wispy white clouds floating overhead. Megan had a hundred blessings she knew she should be counting, but all she could think about were two overwhelming regrets. Her son wouldn’t be here to share the holiday with the family, and Mick was being as impossible as ever.
    Her talk with Nell the day before had been comforting, but had done nothing to dissuade her from her determination to postpone the wedding. Last night’s conversation with Mick had only reinforced her stance. She just had to convince Mick she meant what she said and keep him from trying to bulldoze right over her very valid objections to moving forward with their wedding plans.
    In the meantime, though, in the spirit of the holiday, she could at least make an overture to her son. It might not be welcome, but she had to try again to reach out to him. No matter how many tries it took, she would eventually get through to him. Anything less was unacceptable.
    Carrying her cell phone onto the porch, she hit Connor’s number on speed dial. The phone rang at least a dozen times, with no response and no answering machine pickup. She was about to give up when she finally heard his voice.
    “Hello, Mother,” he said, sounding annoyed and coolly distant.
    “I wanted to wish you a happy Thanksgiving,” she said cheerfully, determined to try to keep the conversation up-beat. “And to tell you how sorry I am that you won’t be joining us.”
    He was silent for what seemed like an eternity before he responded with a grudging “Happy Thanksgiving.”
    Ignoring his tone and continuing on the positive note she’d hoped to establish, she said, “You know, from the day each of you were born, you, your brother and your sisters have been right at the top of my list of blessings.”
    “And yet you walked away and left us behind,” he responded bitterly. “I thought people were supposed to embrace blessings, not toss them aside like garbage.”
    “Oh, Connor, how many times do I have to tell you that it wasn’t like that,” she protested, unable to hide her dismayed reaction, yet knowing she would say the words over and over until he believed them. “I know just hearing me say how much I regret what happened doesn’t mean anything, but it’s true. There are so many things I would have done differently if I’d had the chance.”
    “In the end, though, you still would have left, wouldn’t you?” he said accusingly.
    She hesitated, but she knew a lie, even now, wouldn’t serve her well. “Yes, I still would have left.”
    “Then that says it all,” he said, his tone resigned.
    “No,” she corrected. “It only says how badly my marriage to your father had disintegrated at that time. It says nothing about how much I loved you.”
    “It doesn’t matter now,” he said