Once Upon a Christmas (PTA Moms Book 2)

by Holly Jacobs

  "You promise?"

  She nodded.

  "Okay, then I promise I won't call him or go see him for two days."

  Two days. She had two days to figure out what was best.

  "Aunt Shell, I love you. I'm sorry I snuck around, but I had to know. You can punish me all you want."

  Punishing him wasn't her first thought. Protecting him was. "I'm sorry I didn't listen and made you think you had to sneak around. I'll try and do better."

  "Aunt Shell." Brandon ran over and threw his arms around her, something he rarely did anymore, now that he was too old for it to be cool. He clung to her a minute and said, "I love you."

  She held on tight. "I love you, too, Bran. And somehow, I'll make this work out."

  "He seemed okay, Aunt Shell. Even if he's not, I need to know that, too."

  "Two days. Give me two days." She'd start by calling Henry Rizzo. Then she'd check on Daniel McLean. She took the card out of her pocket. McLean's Restoration. He said that he was doing some work for Christopher Brothers Construction.

  She'd start there.

  IT WAS THREE O'CLOCK in the morning and Daniel was still awake.

  He'd come home from Brandon and Michelle's house and paced for an hour, then, needing something to do, he'd gone out back to split wood.

  Piece after piece, he had slammed the maul into the wood. Despite the cold, he'd worked up a sweat. His arms had started to burn every time he raised the maul, but he didn't stop. He pushed himself, releasing the red heat of his anger on the wood.

  It was pitch-black by the time he went back inside.

  His golden retriever, Chloe, who'd made herself decidedly absent, crawled out from under the table. She seemed to sense that his anger was fading, and that Daniel was now just hurting. Hurting at the idea of a world without Tara and her boundless optimism in it. Hurting at the thought of a son he'd never known about.

  Hurting.

  Daniel hadn't felt so much pain since his grandparents had died. They'd given him such a normal, happy childhood. Something his own parents hadn't been able, or willing, to do. He still missed his grandparents in a way he'd never miss his mother or father.

  He wished his grandfather was here, telling him what to do.

  What was the right thing?

  Somewhere around midnight his anger toward Tara had dulled from acute pain to a constant throbbing. That's when he finally started mourning his old friend. Whenever he thought of Tara the word flitter came to mind. It's what she did during the time he'd known her. She'd flittered from one boyfriend to another, rather like she moved from one table to another in the restaurant. She preached following your dreams and finding happiness. So he'd started McLean's Restoration. Still, he was grateful for his grandfather encouraging him to complete a business degree. It had proved invaluable to him.

  Chloe jumped onto the couch, and sat as close to him as she could without actually being on top of him. He ran his hand through the dog's thick coat garnering some comfort from the contact. She sighed and plopped her head on his thigh.

  It was hard to imagine Tara not telling him he was a father.

  But they'd had that one night and there was a chance he was Daniel's father. Tara had broken up with her last boyfriend—for the life of him, Daniel couldn't think of the man's name—a few weeks, maybe a month and a half before they shared their one night together, if he was remembering correctly. But he had no idea what she'd done afterward, who she'd moved on to.

  Brandon had looked so scared yet so proud when Daniel had opened the door and found him on the porch.

  And Brandon's aunt, Michelle, had looked so hurt and terrified.

  The whole situation was a mess.

  How could Tara have a son and never tell the boy, or her own sister, who the father was? What kind of person did that?

  A person who was so concerned with chasing her own dreams and happiness that she could ignore everyone else's feelings.

  He'd always thought of her in such warm, glowing terms, even after she'd left him without a word. Tara had been a free spirit. But now, he saw that her idea of freedom was selfish. It hadn't taken anyone else into consideration and it had left a trail of pain in her wake.

  When Michelle had said how her sister had never even told her that she had a son, he'd seen the pain and understood just how selfish Tara had been.

  He wished she was here so he could tell her how much she'd hurt all three of them. But she was gone, and there was no going back. All they could do was pick up the pieces and move on as best they could.

  All he could do was try to find a way to do that without causing anyone any more stress.

  Chapter Three

  Michelle's two-day grace period went too fast.

  She'd arranged for Daniel to meet her at a small coffeehouse, Monarch's, on Perry Square during her lunch break. She arrived ten minutes early, snagged a table in the back corner and waited nervously for him to arrive. She tried to pull herself together, but was afraid she wasn't doing a very good job of it. She'd felt as if she were one hiccup away from a full-blown panic attack since Daniel McLean had introduced himself.

  He walked into the restaurant and stood just inside the doorway, scanning the room, allowing her a moment to study him. When he'd shown up on her doorstep on Tuesday, she'd been too floored to really look at the man. His hair was brown. But the color didn't go quite far enough. There was a slight hint of auburn in it as the rare December sunshine streamed through the window onto it. He was tall, somewhere just over six feet, she imagined. He smiled as he spotted her and headed to her table.

  Michelle felt a surge of panic as he approached. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want this stranger disrupting the life she'd built with her nephew.

  Daniel reached her table and said, "I wasn't sure you'd be here."

  "I told you I would be." She didn't admit how much she'd like to be anywhere but here.

  He took off his coat, threw it to the end of the bench and slid into the booth. "But that didn't mean you would."

  "I'm realistic enough to admit I don't have a choice. I can't run away from this problem." No matter how much she'd like to.

  "Problem," he echoed.

  "Sorry, poor choice of words."

  A perky blond waitress with a ready smile came up to the table, a pot of coffee in her hand. "I thought I'd see if your friend wanted anything, and whether or not you were ready for something to go with your coffee?"

  "I'll take a coffee," Daniel said, tossing the waitress a careless smile.

  Michelle watched the girl blush as she poured Daniel's coffee. She seemed to forget Michelle was even at the table. "My coffee could use warming," she said to remind her.

  The girl looked flustered and the rosy glow in her cheeks intensified. "Sorry." She topped off Michelle's coffee. "You two just holler then if you want something else."

  "Where were we?" Daniel took a sip of his coffee, oblivious to the fact the waitress was still glancing back at him. "Oh, problem. You were saying that you can't run from this problem. It was an honest choice of words, I guess. Neither of us expected this or went looking for this, but here we are, and neither of us can run from it. So, what are we going to do?"

  "We could wait until Brandon is eighteen, and he could decide whether or not he wants the paternity test then," she said. "Not going to happen, is it? Neither of you would wait five years, would you?"

  "No. I think you know that."

  Michelle nodded. "I do, but I had to ask. And even if you agreed, Brandon wouldn't."

  "So, what have you decided? Where do you want to go from here?"

  "I called your friend Josh, and he assured me you were the best. Not only a good worker, but a good friend." He'd also told her how he'd met Daniel. A subcontractor had left him high and dry, and he'd called Daniel, a man he didn't know, asking for help. Daniel was already committed to a project, but had come in nights for two weeks straight to help. He's that guy, the one who would bend over backward to help out a s
tranger. The one his friends can always count on, and rarely, if ever, asks for anything for himself.

  The fact that he was that guy didn't make Michelle feel better. It made her feel worse, because if Daniel had been something else, someone else, she might have had an excuse to try to prevent him from finding out if he was Brandon's father.

  "I talked to an attorney, a dad from Erie Elementary. He agreed that the first thing we'd want to do is the test. We'd have to wait a couple weeks for the results." First, she'd had two days to figure out what to do, and now, in just weeks, her whole life could be turned upside down.

  "And if I am Brandon's father?"

  Michelle studied the man sitting across from her. If she'd met him at a party, she might have been attracted to him. But given the circumstances, she couldn't afford to be. She looked for some of Brandon in him. There was just the slightest hint that his hair could have been the same rusty shade as Brandon's when he was younger. They both had the same warm, brown eyes. But Tara's eyes had been brown, as well. And if she remembered her high school biology class, brown was a dominant gene, blue recessive. So even if Brandon's father's eyes had been blue, Brandon could still have Tara's brown eyes.

  "You're staring," Daniel said.

  "Oh. Sorry. Of course, you must be used to it."

  "No."

  "Oh, come on, the waitress is still checking you out every chance she can sneak a peek. Not that I was looking at you like her. I mean. . ." She was digging a hole. "I was looking for some of Brandon in you, or you in him."

  "And did you find it?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know."

  "You didn't answer my question. If I am Brandon's father, then what?"

  "Let's just start with finding out if you are. I hope you don't think I'm presumptuous, but I made an appointment for you tonight, if you can make that. I'm taking Brandon in the morning before school." She passed him a Post-it with the doctor's office information and time.

  Daniel took the paper. "I'll find a way to make it work."

  Michelle started to gather her coat and purse, but Daniel continued, "Now about me seeing Brandon."

  She set her coat back down. "I don't think that's wise until after we get the results."

  "Is he willing to wait?" Daniel asked softly.

  Michelle didn't answer, because Brandon had made it clear he wasn't.

  "I take that as he's not."

  "I'm not comfortable with the idea of a total stranger having unrestricted access to my nephew."

  "So restrict it. You be there, too. Maybe we could start by you two coming to my house on Saturday for lunch. I'll cook, and give you a tour of the house and my shop. You can meet Chloe, as well. I think Brandon will love her, and I can guarantee that she'll love him."

  "Mr. McLean, I'm not ready for Brandon to hang around with you. What makes you think I'd want him socializing with your girlfriend?"

  "Ah, I'm back to being Mr. McLean in that schoolmarmish tone of yours." He tsked. "Chloe's my dog, if that matters."

  "Dog?"

  "Chloe's a golden retriever. She loves kids."

  "Oh."

  "It's only lunch, Michelle. And you'll be there. I'm pretty sure that Brandon's pestering you."

  Despite herself, Michelle laughed. "He's a pit bull. He won't let up." She'd gotten her two days to make a decision, but with the way Brandon had continually harped, asking if she'd made a decision, wanting to call Daniel, there'd been very little reprieve.

  "Then I'll keep this appointment tonight, and let's try Saturday and see how it works," Daniel coaxed. "We can decide where we go after that."

  "Mr. McLean—"

  "Daniel," he corrected.

  "I know you didn't come looking for this, but—"

  "Can you imagine what it's like finding out you might have a kid? A kid who's thirteen? One you never knew anything about?"

  "No. Maybe not, but I do know what it's like to have your sister show up on your doorstep with an eight-year-old, a nephew you never knew anything about. I know what it's like to have her say she was dying. I know what it's like to be twenty-four, starting a new job and trying to deal with hospice and a grieving little boy who was for all intents and purposes a stranger."

  "Sorry," he said softly. "That was rough."

  "I'm sorry, too."

  "Michelle, even if Brandon's not mine, he's Tara's. And despite how she left, she was a good friend. I'd like to get to know her son. . .and her sister. So Saturday?"

  Michelle wished she could say no, but she could see how much Daniel wanted this, and she knew Brandon would, as well. It would be fine. She'd be there.

  She nodded. "Okay then. I realize you and Brandon didn't actually spend much time together on Tuesday. So, yes. We'll have lunch at your house, but I'm not promising anything beyond that."

  "For now, I'll take it."

  "That's good because, for now, it's all that I can give you."

  The waitress came back. "Anything else, folks?"

  "No, we were just finishing," Michelle said.

  The young woman tore off their bill and set it on the table. Daniel had money on top of it before Michelle could even reach for her purse.

  "I've got it," he said.

  "Fine. But next time, it's on me."

  "Deal." He smiled and walked her to the door. "We can make this work, Michelle. I swear, no matter what, the two of us will make this work for Brandon. I know what it's like to be a kid and feel abandoned by your parents. I would never do that to a kid. Never."

  There was a vehemence in his words. Michelle knew he meant them wholeheartedly. And for the life of her, she couldn't decide if that was a comfort or not.

  THE NEXT DAY was the first Friday in December. Just a few weeks until Christmas.

  Just a few weeks until the Christmas Fair.

  Normally, the fair would be foremost on Michelle's mind. She would be all aflutter with plans and a large to-do list. But given the circumstances, the fair was way down on her list as Michelle walked into Erie Elementary's meeting room and found Carly, habitually late Carly, already there. "You're never going to believe what happened to me," she said in unison with her friend.

  Neither of them even attempted to laugh at the fact they'd both said the same thing at the same time as a greeting.

  "It seems like we've been starting every meeting this way. You want to start?" Michelle asked as she shed her coat and hat and placed them on the couch before joining Carly at the table.

  "Might as well wait for Samantha," Carly answered. "That way I don't have to tell the story twice."

  "Fine."

  They sat in a very comfortable silence and didn't have to wait long until Samantha walked in. Her very demeanor practically radiated happiness.

  "Hi," she sang out. "You two will never guess what happened."

  "That's just what I said to Michelle when she came in." Carly sounded even more depressed.

  "And I said it back to her," Michelle echoed. "Neither of you are going to believe my holiday."

  Samantha got settled, and set a box of pumpkin squares in the center of the table. "Talking about the Christmas Fair can wait a minute. Sounds like there's a lot going on, so who goes first? Alphabetical order?"

  "Good news first," Carly said. "And by the look of things, Samantha, you're the only one with that, so you go."

  Michelle nodded in agreement. She'd live vicariously through Samantha's happiness for a few minutes. She suspected that it had something to do with Erie Elementary's interim principal.

  "Come on, Samantha," Carly prompted.

  As if she couldn't contain her news another second, Samantha practically shouted out, "I'm in love."

  "That's not news," Michelle and Carly said in unison. They looked at each other and this time they did laugh.

  "Really, it was that obvious?" Samantha asked.

  Carly snorted a response.

  Samantha laughed again. "I wish one of you had clued me in because it was news to me. And even more impor
tant, Harry loves me back."

  "No news there, either," Michelle told her. "Anyone looking at the two of you at the Thanksgiving Pageant knew that. But is he making the principal's job permanent?"

  "We selfishly don't want to lose you," Carly assured her.

  "He is. He talked to the superintendent and he'll be staying on at Erie Elementary as the new principal. We're going to take it slow. We don't want to make any mistakes, but I don't think anything about what Harry and I have could be a mistake. We fit. Now, Michelle, your turn," Samantha said.

  Michelle hadn't realized how much she'd been counting on their support until this minute, as she said, "Remember when I said Brandon wanted to find his father?"

  "And he agreed to wait until he was eighteen," Samantha said.

  "Well, he lied. He went looking anyway, and he found him—maybe. I don't know what I'm going to do."

  "Oh, Michelle." Samantha's voice was full of sympathy. She pulled Michelle to her and enveloped her in a hug, much as she might have done for one of her kids.

  Carly, who didn't do any kind of emotional display with the ease that Samantha did, didn't say anything but she took Michelle's hand and squeezed it.

  Feeling not only comforted but bolstered, Michelle went on. "All I can do right now is wait and see what happens when the results of the paternity test are in. So, I'm not worrying." She wanted to tell them how afraid she was. She wanted to confess that she hated change, but this was something so foreign, so scary, that she hadn't managed a full night's sleep since Daniel McLean had shown up on her doorstep. "I can't talk about it any more right now. Carly?"

  Samantha smiled and turned to Carly, as well. "Carly? Your turn."

  Carly sighed. "I spent Friday at the police station."

  Michelle had known that something was really wrong with Carly. She had been having problems with her ex all fall. But this?

  "You can't just leave it there," Samantha coaxed.

  Michelle felt a pang of guilt for not doing more for Carly sooner. "What happened?"

  "Well, remember when I told you about redecorating my ex's office?"

  "And finding him on the couch that you bought," Michelle replied. Tough, indomitable Carly had tried to put on a brave front, but Michelle had seen how recalling the incident, even now, tore at her.