Be Mine This Christmas

by Jean Brashear

  “Man—” Bobby pointed. His mother had been a crack addict, and Bobby’s development had been slowed by that. He was also severely asthmatic. At three, his verbal skills were way behind, but she was making progress with him every day.

  “Man,” she agreed. And sighed. “Shall we go join them?” She didn’t even want to think about how she looked after three hours’ sleep, wrangling with bills she couldn’t afford to pay and a long day with her fourth-graders. Christmas break was only a matter of days away, thank goodness.

  She’d changed into old, comfortable jeans and had drawn her hair up in a scrunchie. She hadn’t bothered with lipstick in a very long time.

  Maybe, if she were lucky, she’d scare him off all by herself.

  “Go see man,” Bobby ordered.

  “Yes, sir.” She saluted, and Bobby grinned.

  Then she squared her shoulders and marched them both through the doorway.

  Only to see Gib loaded down with presents, surrounded by three very excited children. Bobby slipped from her grasp, squealing.

  Make that four.

  He’d changed so much, yet he hadn’t. Taller even than when they’d last been together, much more muscular. His dark hair was still wavy, though his haircut was clearly professional. His gray eyes were still ringed by thick lashes.

  “Mom, you won’t believe what Gib brought me!”

  She yanked herself from her fascination with the man the boy she’d loved had become. “Mr. Douglas,” Dulcie corrected.

  “I don’t mind,” Gib said.

  Dulcie glowered. Torie glowed. “Thanks, Gib. Look, Mom—a Sam Duncan jacket!”

  Dulcie’s temper fired. She’d taught her children not to address adults by their first names. And how dare he barge in here like Santa Claus? What happened when he left? She could take care of her own children. She glared at him.

  Gib only smiled, if a slightly hard one.

  She grasped for control. “Well, let me see,” she said, and was quickly swallowed up in chattering children.

  “Want to stay for dinner?” Andre asked. “My mom’s the best cook in the world.”

  Dulcie closed her eyes, but she couldn’t block out the hopeful expressions of her children. “Mr. Douglas is very busy. I’m sure he doesn’t have time.” He couldn’t possibly stay, and she couldn’t bear to have him see how she lived. She’d once read an article about the huge house he owned on Lake Norman. Hers was a hovel, if a clean one, compared to it.

  “Actually, a home-cooked meal sounds really good, but maybe some other time, kids. Your mother didn’t get any advance notice.”

  “It’s okay. She won’t mind, right, Mom?” Torie’s eyes pleaded as Gib knelt beside Dulcie and took from her hand the race car Bobby was beaming over, demonstrating to the boy how to get it to make the throaty rumble of a racing engine.

  She could feel his body heat. Could smell the scent of him that was permanently imprinted in her nostrils. She hadn’t been with a man since Tom died. When would she find the time, even if she were interested?

  But what she was feeling was not nearly so simple as desire. Gib’s voice was older, but it was the same. His body had filled out, but she still knew it from many, many hours of the teenage torture called making out. From one unforgettable night when they’d been each other’s first.

  But it wasn’t even his body or his voice that drew her to him. It was Gib, simply Gib. She couldn’t believe the hold was still there. They’d once been bound to one another in a manner that defied time. A part of Dulcie, it seemed, still remembered vividly how it felt to belong to Gib Douglas.

  “Mom?” said Torie, the reason why none of that could matter, and Dulcie jerked from her thoughts. This wasn’t Gib’s world, and he wouldn’t stay. Even if he ever forgave her if he found out, she couldn’t risk Torie being hurt. Somehow she had to make him go before that happened.

  Oh, how it burned that her children weren’t going to have much of a Christmas on her budget. She loved them too much to take this evening away. Somehow, for their sakes, for the joy filling the room, she would make it through an hour or two of Gib’s company, then close the door behind him as fast as she could. And she’d be grateful that he surely had to get back to his life soon.

  “We’re only having spaghetti, but you’re welcome to stay,” she said far more brightly than she felt.

  “Can I help?” he asked.

  “No, thanks.” Dulcie rose on unsteady legs and reentered her kitchen.

  And battled the urge to race out the back door instead.

  Dinner with four kids left no room for adult conversation, but what Gib wanted to discuss with Dulcie wasn’t meant for young ears, anyway. When he’d been issued the dinner invitation—however reluctantly on Dulcie’s part—he’d thought that once the kids were in bed, he and she could have it out.

  But the more he observed her, the more his anger dimmed. She had a whole lot on her plate with four active children and a full-time job, yet she handled each child carefully and with all the love he’d known she would give the babies she was supposed to have had with him.

  She was thin. She looked exhausted.

  Whatever she’d done to him, life had not treated his Dulcie kindly. Certainly not the way he’d meant to treat her.

  “This was great,” he said, and meant it. “I don’t get many home-cooked meals.”

  Dulcie glanced at him from where she was helping the youngest, Bobby, with his food instead of eating her own. No wonder she was so thin.

  The boy’s breathing seemed a little harsh, and he didn’t talk much, though he’d smiled really big at the race car and charged around the living room like the rest of them. As though it was Christmas already.

  “It’s simple food, nothing like you’re used to, I’m sure.” Spots of color stained her cheeks.

  Gib had noticed that the presents beneath the scrawny Christmas tree were sparse. The house was small, the furniture threadbare and old, but everything was scrupulously clean and tidy, probably not an easy task with four active children to care for. Dulcie kept averting her gaze and talking to the children but not to him, as though his presence made her uncomfortable.

  Damn it, this was wrong. He’d have provided better for her. Who was the guy who’d married her, that he’d left Dulcie in such straits? And how had she wound up with all these kids, anyway—though that was less difficult to imagine. She’d always had a soft spot for an underdog and had a heart as big as North America.

  “Torie,” he said, making one of the snap decisions he was so good at. “Why don’t you help me with the dishes.”

  “No,” Dulcie protested. “You’re company.”

  And, he suspected, she was eager to get rid of him. But why?

  “It’s only fair,” he noted. “You cooked.” She wasn’t getting out of talking to him that easily. He rose and began stacking dishes. Torie cast him yet another adoring glance, and Gib squirmed a little under the hero worship.

  “Torie, is your homework done?” Dulcie asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. I didn’t have much, and I finished it on the bus.”

  Dulcie’s mouth pursed in that expression he’d forgotten, the one that popped up whenever she was thwarted. Gib grinned. Miss Dulcie Langley had been sweetness itself, but she’d also had one hard head. When she got her mind set on something, dissuading the sun from shining was easier than crossing her.

  “Want man play,” said Bobby. “Car.”

  “Yeah!” cheered Andre. “We could have a race.” The set of smaller diecasts of all the Davis Motorsports cars he’d been given had been a big hit, as well.

  “Race!” crowed Lily. She’d been a tougher proposition, but she seemed very happy with her pink No. 91 car T-shirt and cap. She was still wearing both.

  “It’s nearly bath time, kids.” Dulcie’s pronouncement was greeted with groans. She sighed. “Thirty minutes, and that’s it. I have papers to grade after you’re in bed.”

  The younger three kids raced from the room.
“Bobby, you slow down, or I’ll put you in the bath right now. Andre, you and Lily don’t get him too excited.”

  “He’s wheezing, isn’t he, Mom?” Torie asked.

  Dulcie rose, nodding. “I’d better get him in bed. Might be time for the nebulizer.”

  Gib could see the weariness in her slow steps. “Your mom works too hard,” he said to Torie once Dulcie left the room.

  “I try to help. We all do.”

  Man, he hadn’t expected any of this. “What’s wrong with Bobby?”

  “He has asthma. When he starts that wheezing, it can get really bad. He can’t help all his problems. He’s behind for his age. His mother was addicted to crack.” Torie’s posture was defensive.

  Gib focused on washing the dishes while Torie dried. No dishwasher, he’d noticed. “So your dad and mom had you, then adopted the others.”

  Torie shook her head. “No, it was just me until Daddy died. He always said I was all he needed. Mom became a foster mother a year or so afterward. Nobody wanted Lily and Andre and Bobby, so she adopted them.”

  “All at the same time?” Gib was amazed that she’d been allowed to, as a single parent.

  “No,” Torie explained. “Andre first—he was a crack baby, too, but he recovered better than Bobby has. Lily was abused and was taken from her home two years ago. Bobby is new to us. He’s not ours yet, but Mom’s determined that he will be.”

  How did she do it? And Torie, too—she didn’t seem to be at all resentful, yet she surely must bear some of the load as the eldest. Within Gib grew a determination to find a way to help them. Whatever Dulcie had done to him in the past, she’d paid for her decisions.

  “I admire her—and you, too,” he said.

  Torie shrugged, but a flush rose to her cheeks while her eyes glowed. “It’s what family does, that’s what Mom taught me.”

  Family. A pang went through Gib, a hunger he hadn’t realized was there. He had a demanding job that he loved, he had friends among the racing community and respect from his competitors.

  But at the end of the day, he didn’t even have a dog to come home to. With his travel schedule, a pet was impossible, as was a true home. The enormous house on Lake Norman was only a residence. He spent far more time in his motor home.

  “Your mom always wanted a big family,” he said. He’d believed she wanted one with him, but she’d changed her mind. He’d thought she must have changed inside, too, but tonight, he was far less certain.

  “How did you know her?”

  Wow. That was a loaded question. “We dated in high school.” We meant to spend our lives together—or at least I did, he didn’t add.

  “Really?” Torie seemed overwhelmed. “Wow! My mom dated Gib Douglas. Unreal.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I mean…look at her.” Torie gestured around the house. “And look at what you’ve done with your life.” That she thought he’d done better was clear.

  “Don’t ever talk about your mother that way,” he snapped. “What I’ve done with my life won’t matter to anyone when I’m gone.”

  “But you’re famous.”

  “Big deal. Your mom is making a difference in the world. What I do is only entertainment. No big house or all the fast cars in the world can measure up to what she accomplishes every day in so many ways.”

  Torie’s lip stuck out, and he was reminded that she was still very young. “Well, I’m not letting myself be trapped in a podunk town like my mother, that’s for sure. I’m getting out as soon as I can, just like you did.”

  Trapped here? Was that what Dulcie was? She’d left once, when she’d abandoned him, so why had she come back? Still so many questions he had to ask.

  “Bobby!” Dulcie’s anguished cry came from the living room.

  Gib tossed the last pan onto the rack and raced from the kitchen. What he saw froze him to the spot.

  Dulcie was bent over the child, whose lips were blue and his breathing so labored that Gib could see the tendons in his neck straining and his chest heaving as he fought for breath. “Torie, gather up the kids. I’ll call the clinic and see if Dr. Jake or Bridger can meet us.”

  “We’ll take my car,” Gib said. “You can give me directions.”

  Dulcie glanced up at him, startled, as if she’d forgotten he was there. “This isn’t the first time. I don’t need your help.”

  “You’ve got it, anyway.” He grabbed for his coat. “I’ll warm up the car and pull up in front of the door.” He glanced over at Lily and Andre, who looked frightened. “Lily, you get a blanket for your brother. Andre, why don’t you come with me.” He picked up the boy and finished putting his coat on as he dashed from the house.

  He wheeled the rental SUV in front of the door and leaped out as Dulcie emerged with Bobby. Gib took the child from her while she clambered in, and kept an eye on Torie, who was buckling in the others after having grabbed Lily’s booster seat. He settled Bobby in Dulcie’s lap and raced around the hood, whipping the car into the street with a skill his driver, Sam Duncan, might envy.

  “It’s just off the square a block,” Dulcie said.

  The short ride was silent except for the terrible rasp of Bobby’s breathing. Gib leaped out and opened the passenger door. “I’ll be back in a second, kids.” He escorted Dulcie inside.

  “Hey, buddy,” greeted a tall blond man. “Hi, Dulcie. We’ll get him fixed up right away.” He nodded at Gib. “Bridger Calhoun.”

  “Gib Douglas.” They shook hands, and Gib could see the questions in the man’s gaze.

  “The other kids?” Bridger asked Dulcie.

  “I’ve got them,” Gib answered.

  “Gib, you don’t have to—”

  “I’ve got them,” he repeated. “We’ll be right in here waiting.”

  Bridger nodded approvingly and escorted Dulcie and Bobby into the next room.

  Gib returned to his vehicle. “Everything’s going to be fine,” he soothed, though he could be sure of no such thing. He parked the car, then unloaded the kids and ushered them inside.

  “When did Sweetgrass get a clinic?” he asked Torie.

  “Last year. Bridger is the fire chief and a former SEAL medic. He’s also a paramedic. And now we have a doctor, too. Jackson Gallagher paid for the equipment, and the community built the building at a community workday. Bridger is married to Jackson’s sister.”

  “Not Clar—Rissa,” he said. “So it must be Penny. Jackson’s twin.”

  “Yes. They have a baby now, a little boy. He’s really cute.”

  Gib just shook his head. “A lot has changed here.”

  “I guess.” Then she turned her attention back to the others.

  Minutes seemed like hours while they waited. Gib was surprised and impressed by the kids’ composure. Torie was great with them, and he pitched in however he could, following her lead. What he knew about kids could fit in a teacup with room left over, but Torie was a pro as a big sister. She was really something, this kid.

  Time dragged on. Lily fell asleep on his shoulder, and Andre curled up with his head on Torie’s lap. “Why don’t you try to rest,” Gib urged Torie. “You can lean on me.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but as the minutes marched past, at last, she, too, succumbed and dozed against him.

  It was an odd feeling, being surrounded by children who trusted you to take care of them. Gib was in charge of a lot of people and accustomed to responsibility, but this was different.

  It was kind of nice, really. But how on earth did Dulcie juggle this and so much more? Yes, he had to be mindful of the safety of his driver and pit crew when the track was hot, but they were adults and could take care of themselves. These kids, however…Lily’s soft breath on his neck, the warm weight of Torie at his side…

  Gib was surprised by the lump in his throat. Humbled by what Dulcie dealt with every single day. He still didn’t understand why she’d betrayed their dreams, but it was reassuring to discover that the girl he’d loved had
n’t changed in her basic nature, except for that one deeply painful choice.

  Why, Dulcie? He still wanted to understand.

  Just then, Bridger emerged. “He’s breathing much better now.” His gaze fixed on Gib, lines forming between his brows. “Are you a friend of Dulcie’s?”

  Gib bristled, though he knew he had no right. I’m more than that, he wanted to say—but he honestly had no idea what they were to each other now. “Yes.”

  “Good. I’d like to keep Bobby overnight—I’d like to send him to Fredericksburg to the hospital, actually, but that would make things a lot harder on Dulcie. She won’t want to leave him, though.”

  Gib might not have children, but he was quick to analyze a situation. There was one of her and two places she needed to be. Spending the night in this waiting room was no place for the other three kids. “I’ll take care of it. Let me talk to her.”

  “That’s great. Do you need some help? I can’t leave the clinic while they’re here, but I can call someone.”

  “No problem. I’ve got this.” He hoped. His knowledge of kids was sketchy at best, but he had a big plus on his side in Torie.

  “I’ll send Dulcie out, then.” Bridger extended his hand again. “Good to meet you. I’m a fan, but right now, I’m a bigger fan of anyone who can take some of the crushing load off Dulcie’s shoulders.” He shook his head. “She’s amazing, all that she juggles, but I’m nearly as worried about her health as Bobby’s.”

  Grimly, Gib nodded. “I hear you.” Though he had no idea what he could do about it, given that she was hardly open to him.

  He’d figure it out, though.

  Bridger left, and a few minutes later she emerged. If he’d thought her tired before, she was absolutely exhausted now. He wished he could stand, but he’d wake the children. He wanted to take her in his arms and swear everything would be fine.

  But maybe it wouldn’t. “Bridger says he’s breathing better,” Gib whispered when she drew near.

  She settled heavily into the chair beside him. “He is, but Bridger wants to keep him overnight.” Pain washed her features. “I don’t want to leave him. He’ll be so frightened.”

  “I’ll take them home. You stay.”