Heart-strong

by Bonnie McCune

  Rachel’s promise proved to be a challenge to keep. She’d invited guests for late morning so that Scott’s hysteria over his new soccer ball and Legos would be over and everyone could simply relax. She dutifully trotted around making introductions and passing out eggnog and hot chocolate boasting candy cane stirrers, managing to spill no more than a few drops on some of the guests. But even with only nine visitors —Jim, Ryan, and several people from both Sharon’s and her work—she felt immense pressure to keep conversations moving. And Sharon seemed disinterested in being a bubbly hostess. Rachel caught her and Ryan at one point simply sunk into armchairs in a corner of the living room, absolutely silent.

  Finally Rachel resorted to confronting Ryan in the empty hallway that led to the bedrooms, as she waved a sprig of mistletoe over her head. Ryan complied with her implicit command, delivering a soft warm kiss that allowed her to grip his arm and look up with intense sympathy. “I need to talk to you,” she said.

  “No, no, not now. Some other time,” said Ryan as he pulled away, the hunted, haunted look of an escaped criminal on his face. “Too many guests.”

  “Yes, now.” Rachel led him into her bedroom, indicated the sole chair for him to sit while she perched on the corner of a bedside table. After clearing her throat several times, she began. “I don’t know how to start.” Wonderful opening, she thought. “You and I have been seeing one another for a number of weeks now, and I’ve enjoyed our times together.”

  “Yes, so have I,” Ryan broke in. “But—”

  Rachel held up a palm. “But…I want to be honest with you. I think of you as a dear friend. But as for romance, it’s just not in the picture.”

  Ryan leaned back in the chair. “You’re kidding.”

  Rachel surveyed him as if through a microscope. He didn’t appear to be falling apart at her pronouncement. “No, I’m afraid not. There’s someone else in the picture.” Jim, Jim, Jim, her heart seemed to hum.

  “Well, that’s wonderful.”

  “Wonderful? You mean you feel the same way?”

  “Yes. There’s someone else in my picture, too. I was trying to think of how to tell you.”

  Should she be offended? Hurt? Angry? Rachel probed her emotions and felt only release. Ryan was too nice a guy to take advantage of her, and she hoped he’d met his soul mate. For that matter, she hoped she’d met her soul mate. She felt a strong, unspoken connection to Jim. Like her, he preferred action movies, mysteries with English detectives, and living in the central city. Like her, he hated reality television, injustices, and wasting money on elaborate baby and wedding showers. Although they hadn’t as yet gone far in the romance area, she had to catch her breath when she thought of a dark and intimate interlude with him, say a starlit solitary evening walk in the park, or even—gasp!—snuggling under the covers in her bedroom.

  She stood and said, “That’s a relief. I wish you the best.”

  When Rachel returned to the living room, she signaled Sharon with a thumbs-up. Sharon responded with a huge, magnificent grin. Then Rachel took on the next most important task—talking to Jim. He actually was easier to pin down than Ryan had been since he was lingering in the hall, but the conversation proved to be more difficult.

  Thinking it was now or never to see where she stood with Jim, she started with the mistletoe again. But when Jim leaned over to kiss her, she couldn’t hold back her reaction. She responded with a depth of passion she hadn’t known she possessed, rather like a close-up embrace on a screen complete with glistening lips and thrusting tongues. Somehow the physical sensations superseded the issue of trust. So long, she thought, so long since she’d had or even wanted this kind of closeness with a man. Even more, the unspoken connection they seemed to share surely meant he was worth taking a chance on.

  Jim appeared as stunned as if she’d clubbed him with a two-by-four. Then he wrapped both arms around her as if he never wanted to let her go. Their breathing deepened and sped up in unison.

  Rachel finally sighed and leaned back to look up at him. “I’ve wanted to talk to you quite honestly,” she said. “This is a milestone for us. We’ve been seeing each other for six months.”

  “Really?” Jim managed to croak. He thought frantically. They’d met in late summer. Must be true. How had that happened, he wondered, although he was pleased as well as surprised. He usually considered himself footloose and fancy free, although that state was swiftly losing its appeal, with Rachel’s puppy-dog eyes opened to their widest and looking at him as if he were the center of her world. Maybe he’d just been a coward.

  If you count August through December as half-a-year, Rachel rationalized to herself. “Nearly. And I need to tell you how much I enjoy your company. And how much Scott idolizes you.”

  “Me, too. Back at you,” scrambled Jim. This line of conversation was surprising but thought provoking. He realized he felt at ease with Rachel, yet invigorated, as if he were the best man he could be. She certainly needed a strong, solid man around to save her from some of her impetuous decisions, like the time she bought three bushels of tomatoes to save money, forgetting until they emitted a dreadful odor that they rotted very quickly. As for Scott, he was the best kid in the world, even if he wasn’t a great athlete. He needed Jim as much as his mother did. Jim cringed to think of Scott’s adolescence without a decent father figure. Gangs, thefts, joyriding, drugs, sleazy women. So as Rachel relaxed, Jim gloried in the vision of himself as knight in shining armor, squeezed her shoulders, then kept his arms around her. She radiated warmth like a space heater.

  She gave him a hug back. “We have a lot in common, and we get along well. I for one am hoping we can continue to get to know each other and let our relationship grow.”

  “I’m sure we will,” said Jim and gave her another kiss, this one as passionate as hers. He was looking forward to the new year.

  A guest stuck his head around the corner. “Ooops. Sorry. Bathroom. Where?” he grunted.

  Hostess duties recalled Rachel to the dining room, and she appreciated the excuse they provided shortly after to hunt Sharon down to report progress with Jim. She discovered Sharon and Ryan wrapped around each other like colors in a candy cane. She whooped approval. “So that’s why Ryan wasn’t upset with my diplomatic rejection. I should have guessed.”

  Sharon released Ryan and stepped to the side. With a blush she asked, “I hope you’re not upset. I wanted to tell you I have feelings for him, but I thought it wouldn’t be fair unless and until you realized you’re best suited as friends.”

  “Absolutely not upset.” Rachel stepped forward to give the couple a hug. “I’m thrilled. And it seems Jim and I might be ready to move to a higher level.”

  The women compared notes later that evening after the guests left and Scott was in bed. “So you really are ready to make a commitment to Jim?”

  “Absolutely. He showed me how much he cares for me. God, it will be so nice, to have a guy as great as Jim to depend on, to be with. And, so sexy.”

  The sisters giggled.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jim was driving toward Donna’s place as he thought about the gathering at Rachel’s. Very pleasant, very homey. And Rachel, wow! He hadn’t realized the depth of her feelings. Intrigued, confused, he felt a decision was looming, whether to stop splitting his attentions between the two women. It didn’t ring true to harbor growing desire and feelings for Rachel while also seeing Donna. He wished he hadn’t agreed to this rendezvous with Donna, but it wouldn’t have been gentlemanly to cancel at this late date. He’d scrape through it and then consider the relationship with Rachel later.

  He had to admit that Rachel was like a teddy bear—squeezable and steadfast. He felt that he could solve any problem when he was with her—tackle the dirtiest and meanest divorce at work, kick a soccer ball past the toughest goalie, talk his mother into wearing one of those home medic alerts which she sorely needed, even balance his checking account. In fact, when Rachel’s big hazel eyes were fastened on him and her
voice dropped to that soft whisper, her attraction for him was mesmerizing.

  Parking his silver subcompact import in the driveway, Jim headed to Donna’s door and pounded with some impatience, his mind still occupied with Rachel. When the blonde opened the door, every thought in his head disappeared, leaving only sensation behind. She’d suggested a quiet evening at home, promising that her son would be with his father, and she’d rustle up some decent lamb chops and fresh veggies. He’d had no idea dessert would consist of Donna sexed up with décolletage nearly to the waist, gold glitter on every visible inch of skin, and a warm honey smell issuing from various body crevices. She looked and smelled good enough to eat. He forgot how off-putting were her strong opinions on every political issue, overlooked her obsession with having each and every hair in place.

  She proceeded to tempt Jim in every conceivable way. Her fingers lingered on his shoulder when she brought dishes to the table. Pursed plump lips around tidbits of appetizers. Plied him with tasty aperitifs and varied wines. Threw seductive glances from under her eyelashes during conversation. Finally led him to the living room where the lights were low, the fire glowing, candles shining, and cognac waited by the low and cushioned couch.

  Completely beguiled by the comforts and liquor, an unsuspecting Jim sank into the couch to savor the cognac. A collection of instrumental holiday music played softly in the background as Donna snuggled against his shoulder. “Could anything be more wonderful?” she sighed. As if on cue, snow started drifting across the picture window. “So picturesque...so, so romantic.” She lifted her head and offered her lips, which he was sorely tempted to savor. After all, friends exchanged kisses, right? They meant very little.

  The front door to the house flew open and banged against the wall. Donna’s son Tyler rushed into the living room, her ex-husband on his heels. Tyler gripped his right arm in his left hand and was wailing at top level.

  “Mom. Mooommmm. I think I broke my arm.”

  Donna moved out of Jim’s embrace, raised her eyebrows, and stood up with the smooth motion of a model. “What happened, sweetheart? Calm down and tell Mommy.” Her soothing tones to Tyler contrasted with the words she snapped at her ex, low and furious. “How could you let this happen? And so close to New Year’s. Have you taken him to the emergency room? Of course not.” She bent to hug Tyler, lifting him like a two-year-old. He snuggled on her shoulder willingly, favoring his arm only a trifle.

  Donna’s ex shot her a look full of malignant threat, like an unarmed gangster. “Stop babying him. He fell on the stairs and banged his arm on the banister. There’s nothing wrong that a bag of ice won’t fix. He insisted on coming back here, where we find you nuzzling with a new boyfriend. Sorry to interrupt you.”

  Jim felt a label had been tattooed on his forehead that read: Danger, new boyfriend. He thought to defuse the situation by stepping forward and offering his hand. “Hello, Jim Landers. You must be Tyler’s dad, Mr. Fletcher. Sorry to hear of the mishap.”

  The ex could hardly refuse to shake hands. “Rex Fletcher. Yes, these things always happen at the most inconvenient times. And how do you know Donna?”

  Before Jim could answer, Donna butted in. “Really, Rex. You’re not my keeper. Jim and I met at one of Tyler’s soccer games.”

  What had he gotten into the middle of? Sounded like tit for tat, one-upsmanship, or exes who couldn’t let go of one another emotionally.

  “And you’re the coach?” asked Fletcher.

  “Uh, no. I have an interest in the sport, played myself in college. I live near the park where the kids practice, and sometimes I kick the ball around with them. Watch the games. That sort of thing.” Jim ended on a lame note, thinking that he was coming off like a predator or something. Still the important point was both Fletcher and Donna were parents and the welfare of their son had to be top priority. Or had he fallen into the stickiest of situations like an animal slipping into a gluey tar pit—an ex-husband still possessive of his ex-wife?

  Fletcher eyed him up and down as if Jim were a decaying fish set before him as a snack. “And is this dating serious?” asked Fletcher.

  “It very well could be,” Donna answered as she took Jim’s arm, still holding Tyler.

  In the face of the tacit game being played between Donna and Fletcher, the wisest course of immediate action was silence and an expression of benign, if obtuse, goodwill. He could ask Donna to fill him in after Fletcher left. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with either the man or the woman. To relieve the tension, Jim offered a high five to Tyler, who used his uninjured arm to whack away with enthusiasm.

  The action seemed to relieve some of Donna’s anxiety, and she moved toward the kitchen as she said, “I’ll make an ice pack for his arm. He might as well stay here now that he’s back.”

  “So,” said Jim, hands thrust into pockets, rocking on his heels.

  “So,” echoed Fletcher, thrusting his stalwart jaw forward. “How long have you been seeing Donna?”

  “We’ve been on a few dates.” Jim didn’t want to get roped into a commitment he wasn’t willing to make. But he sensed this man wouldn’t be keen to see some stranger hanging around his son. He decided to make a distraction and challenged, “Haven’t seen you at the soccer games.”

  Fletcher’s jaw receded, and he muttered, “I’ve had to travel a lot for work this fall. I did make the team potluck. Didn’t see you there.”

  Jim thought he’d better not mention the ski trip, so he avoided the subject. “I understand the trophy for most improved player went to Scott Kinsey, a young friend of mine. Of course, he can’t match your boy’s skills, but he’s trying hard.”

  “Oh, yes, the bushy-haired one.”

  Jim started to bristle, then shrugged. “I guess he has bushy hair. But he has some native talent if he practices enough. His mom’s raising him on her own, so there’s no dad in the picture, which puts him at a disadvantage.”

  “You seem to know a lot about the team and the mothers.”

  “I make time for them.”

  “I bet you do.”

  Before Jim could decide whether he should respond to the implicit insult, Donna returned. “I’m putting Tyler to bed, Rex, so you might as well leave.”

  “Guess that’s my signal, too,” said Jim. “It’s late, so I’d better get going.” He moved to grab his coat.

  “Oh, no,” Donna objected. “I’ll be down very shortly.”

  Rex stuck his prominent chin out. “I’ll help put our son down.”

  “Young Tyler’s been through a lot,” said Jim, thinking he himself had, too, what with the confrontational ex and all. “Donna, we can make it another time.”

  “All right.” Donna turned acquiescent and transferred Tyler to Rex’s arms, nearly dropping the child in the process. “I’ll walk Jim to the door.”

  As they arrived at the door, Donna placed a hand on Jim’s arm to stop him. “I’m sooooooo sorry about all this. Let me make it up to you. How about dinner next week? We can even shop together so I get all your favorites.”

  Jim scrambled mentally for an excuse. He didn’t like the glint in Donna’s eyes and he’d about decided to stop seeing Donna anyway.

  “Puh-leeze,” Donna said with a flirtatious flip of her eyelashes. “You said we could make it another time.”

  Yes, he’d said that. Seeing no escape, Jim agreed. As he walked to the car, he realized Rachel had another major advantage over Donna—no ex-husband hanging around.

  * * *

  A mad dash from the bus to the grocery store. A normal hectic post-work foray for sustenance-level food. Rachel mentally ran through the stock of staples at home. Yes, they had olive oil; yes, they had onions and rice. But really they needed something to add to make a complete meal. Cheese? Chicken?

  In the market she swept up and down aisles. Although January had hardly begun, valentines held sway on several shelves. Hmmm, she’d have to pick some up for Scott’s school party. Funny, funny, funny, she thought as she
thumbed through the kids’ collection. Maybe she should get a humorous, casual one for Jim. Although she and he were getting along even better than before, calling or texting one another nearly every day, going to a museum or jazz club every week, a kernel of uncertainty remained in Rachel’s mind.

  Maybe because Jim sometimes seemed to sidestep her suggestions about things to do. Or when he saw Scott, he reached forward to shake hands rather than offering a hug, which seemed to put some emotional distance between them. Most especially, Jim hadn’t come out and stated anything to confirm he felt he and Rachel were a real couple.

  Enough brooding, she scolded herself as she replaced the valentines. On to shopping. She pushed her cart around the corner to approach the produce section and nearly knocked over—Jim!

  A huge welcoming smile broke like a wave over her face, and she almost reached for him. Thank goodness she didn’t, for standing right next to him, balancing a melon and a bunch of carrots, was the blonde mother from the soccer team. Donna, was that her name? Yes. And she and Jim looked awfully cozy as they both had a hand on a grocery cart, which was loaded with the makings of dinner—a baguette, cheeses, fruit tart, a big steak, and baking potatoes.

  “Um, hello,” Rachel managed. “You’re missing the vegetables for your meal. Very important to have veggies and a salad. The asparagus is on sale today.”

  Why on earth had she produced that inane statement? She wanted to duck and hide behind her cart, but because the sides weren’t solid, she still would have been exposed.

  Jim’s smile froze on his face half way between a sincere hello and an embarrassed smirk. He swallowed, then proceeded. “Um, hello,” he echoed. “Rachel, I’d like you to meet Donna Fletcher. Donna, this is Rachel Kinsey. Both your boys are on the soccer team.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Donna. “I thought you looked familiar. What’s your son’s name?”

  “Scott. Scott Kinsey.”

  “He won most improved player this year,” Jim interjected for no apparent reason except to fill in time.