For A Father's Love

by JoAnn A. Grote

  Alma was eagerly explaining some detail of her paintings, but Mandy couldn’t drag her attention back from Jason. Did he recall when they saw the original tree at the Met? The way they’d stood before it in hushed awe, holding hands, and afterward admitting they felt as though they’d been blessed with witnessing the closest thing possible to the actual night of Christ’s birth? Her chest ached, suddenly too small to hold the emotion-charged memory.

  Jason turned, his finger still on the angel’s gown. His gaze met hers across the room. A bond bridged the distance between them. To Mandy it seemed tinged with regret for what they’d lost, filled with hope for forgiveness.

  Abruptly, he turned his back to her, and the delicate bridge collapsed. Mandy blinked and took a shaky breath. Had she imagined it all? Or had he pulled back when he sensed what was happening between them, not ready even after eight years to forgive her for not marrying him?

  She’d desperately wanted to marry him, but she’d always known she wanted to live in the mountains. Living in the city would be like a living death for her, the same as her beloved mountains would be a prison to a true city lover. It made no sense to begin a marriage with such a wall between them, but she hadn’t been able to convince Jason of that.

  She forced her attention back to Alma. Mandy lifted Alma’s painting, admiring again the winter mountain scene. “I’d like to put this above the fireplace. What do you think?”

  Alma’s dark eyes sparkled. “Do you honestly believe it’s worthy of such a prominent placement?”

  “Quit begging for compliments,” Mandy teased.

  Alma shifted in her chair, a pleased smile on her face. “J. P., can you help Mandy with this painting?”

  “I can hang it myself.” Mandy wondered whether she actually paled at Alma’s call. She didn’t need Jason any closer to her. She was all too aware of his presence as it was.

  Jason’s glance met hers above the painting. “Where do you want it?”

  “Over the fireplace.” She started for the center of the room, carrying the painting.

  Before following Mandy, Jason took time to turn Alma’s chair so she could see the fireplace. “You let us know when we have it positioned just right, Alma,” he said. “A painting should always be hung to please the artist.”

  Where did he come upon that bit of wisdom? He hadn’t known much about art when they were dating. No telling how much he’d changed since they’d been together. It surprised Mandy to find how much it hurt to realize she no longer knew him inside and out.

  But if she’d really known him inside and out back then, she’d have known he’d eventually leave her for a career in New York, instead of fooling herself into believing that deep inside, he wanted to stay in the mountains she loved—with her.

  She set the picture down and pulled the overstuffed, red plaid footstool over to the hearth. Jason stepped on the stool and reached for the huge grapevine wreath above the mantel. Handing it to her, he said, “Give me the painting.”

  She steadied the painting as he took hold of it. Much of the painting’s weight stayed in her hands, and she looked up at him. Why wasn’t he taking it?

  His gaze was riveted on her left hand. Had the grapevine scratched it without her noticing? She glanced down but saw nothing unusual and looked back, puzzled.

  His questioning gaze shifted to hers. “You aren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

  The accusation in his tone sent a warm wave up her neck. She was glad he hadn’t spoken loud enough for Alma to hear over the Christmas music. “There’s no law that a thirty-year-old woman has to be married.”

  “Is something wrong with the painting?” Alma called.

  Jason lifted the painting from Mandy’s hands. “Nothing at all,” he assured the artist. “Just wanted to be sure I didn’t snag Mandy’s hands with the wire.”

  Mandy wished she and Jason were alone so she could ask him why he’d thought she was married. His question intensified her already-overactive awareness of him. They were so close she could hear his breathing.

  By the time Jason had the picture hung to Alma’s satisfaction, Tom, Ellen, and the girls were down from the loft. Tom showed Jason a tree decorated with Tom’s slender pottery ornaments, and then the Berrys prepared to leave. Ellen and the girls went out to the car with them.

  When Jason and Mandy were alone, Jason said, “The girls certainly like Tom.”

  “Tom and Grandpa Seth are the only two men those girls trust anymore.” It felt safer talking about them than herself, Mandy thought, but safe wasn’t always the best. She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Who told you I was married?”

  Deep red color crept up his neck. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I. . .assumed. Are you divorced?”

  “No.” Her answer came out louder than she’d intended. With an effort, she lowered her voice. “I never married. What made you think. . . ?”

  His gaze darted away. His face scrunched into a wince. “Bonnie. She’s the spitting image of you, and I didn’t think you would. . .not without being married.” His voice dropped significantly on the last words.

  Did he think she’d abandoned her values after they broke up? “Bonnie is Ellen’s daughter.”

  Jason’s eyes widened, then begged forgiveness. “I’m afraid I’ve put my foot in it.”

  She turned her back and fiddled with a Victorian ornament on a tree to prevent his seeing the hurt in her eyes.

  He rested a hand on her arm. His touch sent a charge blazing through her. She heard his breath catch. Had he been as affected by their touch as she was?

  “Mandy, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d abandoned your values or your faith. I thought you were married because Bonnie looks so much like you, and I knew you wouldn’t sleep with anyone outside marriage.”

  The huskiness in his voice assured her of his sincerity, but his voice combined with his touch caused dangerous warnings of desire to dance along her nerve endings. She stepped back, and his hand fell away.

  The only sound in the room was a harpsichord rendition of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.” It didn’t hide the tension between them. Jason cleared his throat. “I didn’t put much hope in Ellen and Zach’s marriage lasting, but I guess Beth and Bonnie are proof that it has.”

  Mandy shook her head, glad for a topic less personal than her own choices about marriage and sex. “Zach left her and the girls last year. The divorce was final last month. He believes he’s meant for better things than managing a small-town clothing store. He’s in California. He’s written a screenplay and feels he can sell it better face-to-face than through the mail.”

  “Couldn’t he let an agent handle the selling? He could support himself here, living here with his family, while someone else hawks the script.”

  “That’s too sensible. You know Zach. Besides, he evidently feels a family is a liability to his dreams.”

  He scowled. “I always felt guilty for introducing him to Ellen.”

  “You hadn’t much choice, as I recall. Zach crashed the pizza party that night and demanded an introduction to Ellen. Besides, you couldn’t have kept them apart. Remember how the air between them sizzled?”

  “I remember. They were married only. . .what. . .three months later?”

  His intense gaze and strained voice made her wonder if he was recalling that he’d told her how, in spite of his doubts about Ellen and Zach’s marriage, he was jealous of them and wished it were he and Mandy marrying instead. The memory made it difficult for her to concentrate.

  “Uh, yes, three months. Look, did you come here for something special? I told Grandma Tillie I’d stop at the hospital to see Grandpa Seth tonight and bring her home.”

  “Actually, Gram asked me to come down.”

  Irrationally, his comment sent disappointment burning through her. In spite of telling herself for years that it was for the best that they hadn’t married, and even though they’d parted angry the other evening, part of her had hoped he’d come tonight because he couldn�
�t stay away from her.

  “I brought Gram home,” he went on. “She’s already asleep. She wanted to stay at the hospital all night. She hasn’t said so, but I know she’s frightened about Gramps’s bypass surgery tomorrow. Gramps told her he’s tired and will rest more easily knowing she’s at home getting some sleep. Besides.” He grinned almost conspiratorially. “He says he’ll go into surgery more positive tomorrow if he knows she’s at the hospital praying for him, not asleep because she’s been up all night worrying about him.”

  Mandy couldn’t help smiling back. “That sounds like Grandpa Seth. I wish I’d made it up there to talk with him tonight.”

  “You can talk with him after the surgery.”

  His voice trembled only slightly, but enough for her to recognize his words were a defense against his own fear.

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  Her heart smarted. He looked so tired. She wanted to draw his head against her shoulder, caress his hair, and whisper words of comfort. Instead she sat down, folding one leg beneath her in the wing chair, putting further distance between them.

  Jason cleared his throat. “I also wanted to apologize for the other night.” He dug his hands into his slacks’ pockets, then pulled his hands out and sat on the edge of the wing chair opposite her. “I spoke out of turn. The past is past. Since I’m going to be around for the next couple months, I’m hoping we can be friends.”

  She nodded. “Sure.” On the surface they could be friends, but the past wasn’t behind them, not when he hadn’t forgiven her for not marrying him, not when she still longed to share life with him.

  He must want to put it behind him, she thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Even though during our disagreement he’d sounded as though he wished we hadn’t broken up. He found out tonight I’m not married, and instead of saying he’d like to try again, he’s telling me he wants to put the past behind us. She bit back the regret burning within her.

  The door flew open. Beth’s and Bonnie’s giggles interrupted them. The girls raced each other across the room and threw themselves against the arms of Mandy’s chair.

  “I won,” Beth called.

  Bonnie shook her head until her curls swirled against her round, flushed cheeks. “No, I won.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did, didn’t I, Aunt Mandy?”

  Both were giggling so hard they could barely challenge each other. Mandy gave each a quick one-armed hug. “I declare the race an official tie.”

  “Anyone for hot chocolate?” Ellen asked, taking up last place in the newcomers’ race. “I need something to settle these two down before they go to bed.”

  “Bed?”

  “We’re not ready for bed.”

  Jason stood. “I should be going.”

  “Don’t leave on our account,” Ellen protested. “Mandy and I can talk whenever we want. I’ll take the girls up to get their pajamas on, and then we’ll be back down for hot chocolate.”

  Mandy and Jason watched the three climb the open wooden staircase to the loft.

  Jason’s gaze wandered to the fireplace with its mountain river rocks reaching to the beamed roof. “I don’t remember the fireplace.”

  “I had it built.”

  “Nice.” Jason walked to the hearth, staring into the embers.

  Mandy listened to the embers crackling and bursting and felt the pain of the thick, uncomfortable silence between herself and Jason.

  It was a relief when Bonnie came bounding down the stairs, a huge brown teddy bear in her arms. Leaning her head against Mandy’s knees, she studied Jason with her wide-eyed gaze.

  He smiled at the girl, and Mandy thought his face truly relaxed for the first time that night. She’d always loved watching him with children; he so thoroughly enjoyed them.

  “Great Barbie doll nightgown,” Jason said.

  “Thank you,” Bonnie answered primly.

  “Why do you keep your pajamas upstairs here? Are you and your sister going to have a sleepover under the Christmas trees?”

  Bonnie shook her head, her brown curls bouncing. “No. We’re goin’ to sleep upstairs in our bed.”

  Jason frowned, looking puzzled. “Your bed is upstairs?”

  “Of course, Silly. We live here.”

  Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “You live here?”

  Mandy touched the tip of her tongue to suddenly dry lips.

  “Who lives here with you, Bonnie?” Jason’s voice held a cautious note, as though afraid he already knew the answer.

  “Mommy, Beth.” Bonnie nodded once for each name. Mandy held her breath as the girl nodded a third time. “And Aunt Mandy.”

  Jason’s gaze darted to Mandy’s.

  She spread her arms and grinned, hoping he couldn’t see how her courage wavered. “Surprise.”

  Six

  “A surprise, indeed,” Jason agreed with what he congratulated himself was a good degree of calm considering the jolt he’d just received. “Amazing that you, Gram, and Gramps all forgot to mention that little detail. From the mouths of babes.”

  Bonnie frowned. “What’s that mean? ‘From the mouth of babes.’ ”

  “That one is all yours,” Mandy challenged Jason.

  He knew what she meant. No six year old wanted to be called a baby. “It’s a very old saying,” he explained. “It means children say wise things.”

  Bonnie’s eyes sparkled. “Children like me?”

  “Just like you,” Jason assured her. He sat down with his elbows on his knees and his fingers linked.

  Bonnie studied him soberly, crushing her beige teddy bear against the pink-clad blond Barbie on her nightgown. “Would you like to see my teddy bear?”

  “Sure.”

  She stepped cautiously to the coffee table and handed the bear across.

  Jason examined it soberly. Its curly tan fur was well worn, and the red-and-green ribbon around its neck looked like it had been chewed, most likely by Bonnie’s tiny white teeth. “A very handsome bear. What’s his name?”

  “Teddy.”

  “Very appropriate.”

  “What’s ’propie. . . , ’propie. . . ?”

  “Appropriate,” he repeated slowly. “It means it’s just right.”

  Her grin widened, and she stuck out her stomach in pride.

  A movement caught his eye, and he looked up to see Ellen sit down in the wing chair opposite Mandy. Beth leaned against her mother’s knees, her hair, as blond as her negligent father’s, brushed behind her ears in a smooth sweep. Her nightgown featured the dark-haired princess from Aladdin.

  When Beth noticed him looking at her, she slipped the tip of her little finger between her lips and turned her head partially away, as if wanting to hide. Shy thing, he thought. He winked at her and felt pleasantly rewarded he’d surprised her into a smile, even though she instantly retreated behind her sober face and measuring eyes.

  “Ready for your hot chocolate, girls?” Mandy asked, rising. At the girls’ assurance that they were indeed ready, she went to fill their cups.

  Jason absently bounced the bear up and down on one knee.

  “Teddy likes ‘to market, to market,’ ” Bonnie informed him.

  “What’s that?”

  “You know. Teddy rides to market on your leg, only he’s really riding a horse, of course.”

  “Give me a hint how it starts.”

  She heaved such a huge sigh of disgust that he bit back a laugh. “ ‘To market, to market,’ ” she began, waving her hands like a philharmonic conductor, “ ‘to fetch a skein of wool.’ ”

  “I remember. ‘Uphill, downhill, fall in a hole,’ ” he finished with her, bouncing the bear high on his knee, then plunging the bear almost to the floor.

  Bonnie clapped, laughing. “Do it again.”

  “We don’t want to get Teddy too excited so close to bedtime.”

  Bonnie accepted the bear without further quibbling. But it was Mandy’s chuckle at Jason’s diplomatic argument tha
t was music to his ears as she returned with cups of chocolate with bobbing marshmallow clouds for the girls. When he glanced at Ellen and Beth, Beth was smiling too, until she saw him looking at her.

  Bonnie leaned against the coffee table, concentrating heavily on Teddy’s face, where her tiny fingers tugged at one black button eye. “Mr. J. P., are you a daddy?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I was never blessed with nice girls like you and your sister.”

  Bonnie looked at him, her smiling glance almost shy, obviously pleased with his answer.

  Beth wasn’t pleased. “Our daddy doesn’t feel blessed to be a daddy. He left us.”

  Ellen’s arms circled Beth’s waist, but the girl stood stiff, watching for Jason’s reaction.

  He felt Bonnie watching him too, as well as Mandy. What could he say that wouldn’t be dishonest or cruel to the little girls? Anger built inside him, sweeping up through his chest. How could any man leave his children? “It’s hard to learn to live without your dad, isn’t it? I had to learn to live without mine too.”

  “Did he divorce you and your mom?” Beth asked. Curiosity and caution mingled in her blue eyes.

  His heart caught at her belief her father had divorced not only Ellen but the girls. “No. When I was a teenager, my dad died in an automobile accident.”

  Beth and Bonnie stared at him, wide-eyed. The fire spit and crackled from tree sap while the girls absorbed what he’d said.

  “I know lots of kids at school whose dads left them like ours,” Beth said slowly, “but I don’t know anyone whose dad is dead.”

  “Did it hurt you when he died?” Bonnie rubbed her Barbie-covered chest. “In here?”

  He nodded. “Yes, it hurt me a lot in there.”

  “Does it hurt still?”

  “Sometimes, but not as bad as it used to.”

  Bonnie’s chubby fingers pulled at the bear’s black button eye. “I still hurt lots when I think about my daddy.”