Sunny's Second Chance

by Nola Cross

  Sunny’s Second Chance

  by

  Nola Cross

  Sunny’s Second Chance

  Copyright © 2013, Nola Cross

  ISBN: 9781940744292

  Publisher: Beachwalk Press, Inc.

  Electronic Publication: July, 2014

  Editor: Kelly Anderson

  Cover: Fantasia Frog Designs

  eBooks are not transferable. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Back Cover Copy

  What if love really is better the second time around?

  It’s a rough Christmas for just-divorced Sunny Williamson and her six-year-old daughter, Jasmine. When your no-good husband leaves you for a pretty young dancer, it’s hard not to feel old, fat, and frumpy. But then she meets a handsome widower, Ben Stillman, and his young son, Spencer. The two kids hit it off, dragging their parents into an unwitting friendship.

  Sunny’s never thought about dating a white man. The whole interracial thing seems risky, especially since Jasmine is still struggling with adjusting to her father’s defection. What if the little girl gets attached to Ben and Spencer and things don’t work out?

  Ben has been struggling under the weight of grief since his wife’s death a year ago. He suspects it’s too soon to move on, but somehow he wants to make Christmas special for Spencer. Then he meets Sunny and everything changes. She chases away the darkness and makes him feel alive again. Can the two of them learn to trust the magic between them long enough to give love a second chance?

  Dedication

  For Spencer, who sat with me on “kimo spa” days and has always been one of my biggest supporters.

  Acknowledgements

  A big thanks to Kaylie Newell, my critique partner, for her cheerful and unending support last winter as I wrote and revised this story. Without her encouragement and awesome beta-reading skills, it wouldn’t have happened.

  Chapter 1

  Sunny Williamson pulled the blanket up and tucked it under Jasmine’s chin, and then pressed a kiss to her little girl’s forehead. She tried her best to put a smile in her voice.

  “I know you want Daddy back for Christmas, but Santa can’t bring him, sweetheart.” There was no use lying to the child. Not that I’d take Charles back if the scumbag did somehow come to his senses.

  “But doesn’t Daddy love us anymore?” Jasmine’s big brown eyes glistened with unshed tears. Sunny felt her own eyes begin to sting. God damn it! She wasn’t going to waste even one more minute crying over that bastard.

  “You know your daddy loves you, babydoll. But he lives with Sharina now, clear across town. And he’s working long hours at his job. It’s hard for him to get time away to come see you.” She tried to think of anything that would distract the little girl from her father’s treachery. “Hey, you know what? This Saturday is the day they put up the giant Christmas tree downtown. Shall we go watch them? And maybe have lunch at Mr. Toad’s?”

  “Yes! I love Mr. Toad’s! Can I have waffle pizza?”

  “Of course you can.” Sunny stood up and tapped the end of her daughter’s button nose, relieved to see her happy mood restored. “We’ll share, okay?”

  “Okay, Mama. Good night.”

  “Good night, babydoll. May the angels bring you heavenly dreams.”

  She turned off the light but left the door ajar to allow for the muted glow from the bathroom. Jasmine had been having nightmares the last few months since Charles had moved out, and the night light helped to comfort her.

  Two hours later, as Sunny put her own self to bed, she stood for a moment in front of the mirror on her closet door, smoothing her nightgown down close to her body. She frowned as her fingers moved over soft, rounded curves. Her hips and belly were definitely too big. She’d been unable to budge the last twenty pounds of the thirty-five she’d put on with her pregnancy six years before. And her breasts? Forget about it. Where once they had been high and proud, now they relaxed against her chest wall like two friendly old pillows. It was the body she’d expected she would have at age fifty perhaps, but certainly not at thirty-two. No wonder Charles had left her for a dancer ten years younger.

  As soon as the negative thought snuck into her head she cringed. She’d vowed to stop comparing herself to Sharina, but it wasn’t easy. Still, if she didn’t stick up for herself, who would? Sunny stood up tall and sucked in her tummy, then gave her reflection another stiff appraisal.

  Not bad, girl. Not bad. Nothing a little bit of red satin and lace couldn’t fix.

  Now that was more like it! Sunny crawled into bed a few minutes later, a lingerie catalog in hand.

  * * * *

  Late Saturday morning there was a good sized crowd milling around in Pioneer Courthouse Square. Commonly referred to as “Portland’s Living Room”, the brick-paved plaza was a venue that changed often with the seasons: floral festivals in the spring, outdoor movies in the summer, and the famous illuminated Christmas tree during the holidays. Sunny and Jasmine had arrived too late to see the erection of the one-hundred-foot fir, but now a large green and white crane had sidled up close to it, and a man teetering from a metal basket was beginning to hang strings of lights. Jasmine was enthralled. They bought cups of cocoa at a nearby Starbucks, and found a place to sit on the curving horseshoe of steps that formed the amphitheatre-like shape of the square.

  Jasmine’s breath made a fine poof of vapor as she pointed toward the tree trimmer. “Do you think he’s scared way up there, Mama?”

  “I bet he’s done this so many times he doesn’t worry at all.”

  “Oh.”

  “It’s just like anything else you practice. Like when you learned to ride your bike without training wheels last summer, remember?”

  “I was really scared at first.”

  “But then you practiced a lot and now you’re not scared at all to ride your bike. Right?”

  “Right!” Jasmine grinned, showing the space in her mouth where she’d lost her first baby tooth the week before.

  Just then the child sitting on the other side of Jasmine let out a shrill scream. Everyone in the vicinity turned to look as the small boy held up a used syringe and waved it toward Jasmine. Sunny’s heart did a sickening flip.

  “Put that down. Right now!” She used her most authoritative voice, the one that always got the attention of her second grade students.

  The boy dropped the needle, his blue eyes huge and lower lip beginning to quiver.

  Sunny lunged forward and trapped the syringe beneath the heel of her boot, then she smiled at the boy, letting her voice soften. “Thank you. Did you poke yourself, sweetie?”

  He shook his head no, but just to be safe she took his hand and gave it a quick once-over. Whew! No harm done.

  “That was quick thinking,” said a man’s deep voice. “I just looked away for a minute, and…”

  Sunny raised her eyes. On the other side of the boy sat a blond-haired man, bundled up tight in a dark colored coat. She hadn’t even noticed him there before.

  “Is this your boy?” she asked. “I hope I didn’t overstep just now.”

  He smiled, and appealing crinkles appeared at the edges of his eyes, which were just a shade darker than his son’s.

  “Not at all. I’m grateful. And impressed. Where did you learn to be so commanding?”

  Sunny smiled back. “I’m a grade school teacher. It’s a necessary survival technique.”

  “Nice.” His smile widened
to a grin, his breath chuffing out into the crisp air. He had straight white teeth and a firm jaw showing a trace of golden stubble.

  “Well, I should try and find a pop bottle or something with a lid to put this syringe in, before we throw it into the trash.” Sunny glanced around. Several feet away an overflowing garbage receptacle looked promising. She reached down and carefully pulled the syringe from under her boot. “Jasmine, you sit right here and don’t move.”

  Jasmine nodded. The blond-haired man leaned forward and said, “I’ll keep an eye on her for you.”

  Sunny hesitated, taking his measure. Did she trust the good looking stranger? She’d heard enough horror stories of little kids being snatched from their mother’s side in the middle of a crowd. But the man really didn’t look like the child-snatching kind. And besides, he had his own boy with him. How far could he get with two kids in tow?

  “Thanks,” she said.

  It took her maybe a minute to locate an empty soda bottle in the garbage can, put the syringe inside, and screw the cap back on. When she returned to Jasmine’s side, her daughter gave her a sly smile and pointed toward the boy.

  “Spencer still has training wheels on his bike,” she confided in a loud whisper.

  “Hmm. I think he may be younger than you, sweetie. He’ll learn, just like you did.”

  “Oh.” Her face fell. And then she pointed into the crowd and let out a happy squeal. “Daddy!”

  Sunny’s stomach gave a hard lurch. Sure enough, strolling in their direction, arm in arm, was her newly divorced ex-husband and his young lady friend. Sharina’s black wool coat sported a real fur collar, she noticed, and fur-trimmed, high heeled boots to match. The girl’s flawless skin was the color of peanut butter taffy, and just as smooth. Remembering she hadn’t even bothered to put on lipstick this morning, Sunny rose to her feet and gave Charles a perfunctory smile. For Jasmine’s sake.

  The little girl streaked across the bricks and threw herself into Charles’s arms. He gave her a quick squeeze and then set her back on her feet, looking for all the world as if he wished she were someone else’s child.

  “Hello, Charles. Sharina.” Sunny walked forward, keeping one hand occupied with her drink and the other in her pocket. She would be civil, but had no urge to shake anyone’s hand. “Did you come to see them put up the tree?”

  The younger woman made a disdainful face. “Get real, girl. What am I, five years old? Charles and I are on our way to the jewelry store across the street to pick out an engagement ring.” Her black eyes glittered with pride as she gave Charles a smug smile. He smiled back, slid his hand behind her neck, and gave her a long, sloppy kiss.

  Sunny’s belly gave another sickening lurch, and her cheeks prickled with heat. He’d only signed those divorce papers last week. Bastard!

  She searched her mind for something neutral to say. She certainly couldn’t say what she was really feeling—betrayed, shamed, ugly, enraged—in front of Jasmine.

  Suddenly she felt an arm go around her waist from behind. She turned just in time to receive a kiss on the cheek from the blond-haired stranger. What the hell?

  “There you are, darling,” he said, smiling fondly at her. “Spencer and I have been looking all over for you. Ready to go to lunch?”

  Somehow, Sunny kept from blurting out a crazy laugh in the man’s face.

  “We’re going to Mr. Toad’s!” Jasmine piped up, jumping up and down in front of her father. She grabbed for his hand. “Want to come have waffle pizza with us, Daddy?”

  Charles patted her on the head. “Some other time, baby. Some other time.” He eyed Sunny with frank speculation. “Who’s this?”

  “I’m Ben Stillman.” The stranger stuck his hand out. “And you are?”

  Charles ignored the other man’s proffered hand. “I’m Charles Williamson. And that’s my wife you’re kissin’!”

  “Ex-wife,” Sharina said in a shrill voice. “Ex-wife. Come on, Charles. Let’s go.”

  Sunny held her breath as Charles stood there, glaring at the blond-haired man, his hands flexing into angry fists. And then suddenly he seemed to hear Sharina’s whiney entreaties. A slow smile broke over his face. “Okay, baby. We’re going. We’re going.” He took Sharina’s hand, tipped his head toward Sunny in an odd, stiff bow, and then stalked away, ignoring Jasmine’s “Goodbye, Daddy.”

  As Sunny watched them disappear into the crowd, her body threatened to sink to the bricks like a huge, flabby, deflated balloon.

  “You okay?”

  Realizing she still stood in the crook of Ben Stillman’s arm, Sunny quickly pulled away, putting several feet between them. Then she nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.” She blew out a long breath. “Thank you for what you did.” She tried to smile at him but her facial muscles didn’t seem to be working.

  “That was pretty rough.” His blue eyes studied her face. Such kind eyes, brimming with compassion.

  Again she nodded.

  About that time Jasmine began tugging on her hand. “Come on, Mama. Let’s go. Spencer has never been to Mr. Toad’s. He wants waffle pizza too.”

  “Oh. I—” She stopped short, uncertain how to extricate herself from the awkward situation.

  “Let me buy,” he said. “I owe you.” There was that sparkling grin again. “For the needle debacle.”

  “All right.” She didn’t really want to eat lunch with a stranger. After seeing Charles with Sharina, the extra effort it would take to be social seemed beyond her right now. But how could she say no to the man who had just come to her rescue like some kind of knight in shining armor? “Mr. Toad’s is two blocks that way.”

  Taking Jasmine by the hand, she began walking across the square, weaving in and out of the milling throng. Behind her, she heard Spencer’s voice.

  “Why are we walking so fast, Dad?”

  “We’re in a hurry, buddy. We can hardly wait for our lunch.”

  Sunny slowed her steps, an unwitting smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

  * * * *

  Ben swiped at his lips with a paper napkin. He had to admit, the waffle pizza was quite a bit tastier than he had expected. Only scraps remained on the platter. The two kids had eaten with gusto, chattering happily about how the melted cheese filling the squares of waffle dough looked like tiny windows. They’d certainly hit it off, and afterward had run off hand-in-hand to explore the tunnels of the indoor play structure together. He could see Spencer’s yellow-white hair from here, as his son peered out from an elevated porthole and waved. He waved back, feeling the first tentative sense of joy he’d experienced in many months. Spence had had a hard year. It was great to see him lighten up and have fun like a boy his age should.

  But now that the two kids had left the table, a palpable silence fell between himself and the pretty African American woman who’d introduced herself as Sunny. He decided he’d make one more stab at starting up a conversation with her.

  “How old is Jasmine?”

  “She just turned six.”

  “First grade?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Tough time for a family break up.”

  She flinched at his frankness, then sent him a look that was half surprise, half outraged glare. “Is there ever a good time?”

  “I suppose not. It’s all pretty devastating.”

  Looking somewhat mollified, she shifted in her chair, angling her curvy body toward his. “Are you divorced too?” she asked, leaning her chin on her hand.

  “Widower.”

  “Oh God. I’m sorry.” She leaned away, her perfect brows drawn low over amber colored eyes.

  He shrugged. “It’s been almost a year. We’re getting through it.” It was only a little bit of a lie.

  “Was it…that is, did she pass suddenly?”

  He shook his head. “Ovarian cancer.” As he said the words, he felt the muzzy gray blanket of grief settle around his shoulders again. It had almost lifted away this last hour, and that respite had felt so good.

&
nbsp; The woman studied him quietly. “It must be really hard for Spencer, not to have his mom. Is he in school yet?”

  “Yeah. I went ahead and put him in kindergarten this September. At least that gives him mornings with other kids to distract him. And he loves his teacher. Miss Taucher has been great with him.”

  “Evelynn Taucher? He goes to Lincoln Elementary?”

  Ben nodded.

  “That’s where I teach.”

  “Small world,” he said. A strange chill made a trail of goose bumps down his arms. What were the odds of running into one of the teachers at Spencer’s suburban neighborhood school, here in the downtown crush of Portland? He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to make a foolish grab at the possibility that it might mean something. Not when life’s meaning was pretty much screwed as far as he could tell.

  Chapter 2

  In the hallway outside the festively decorated auditorium, pure chaos reigned. Sunny leaned back against the wide metal door and shut her eyes for a few seconds. Please God, let me just get through this evening. All she had to do was lead her class in their musical number, Jingle Bells, and make nice with the parents during the cookie social, and she’d be done. Come tomorrow, she was looking at two whole weeks of blissful winter break.

  “Mrs. Williamson!”

  Sunny opened her eyes and looked down at the small boy who was tugging on her skirt. The kids were all dressed in their coats, hats, and gloves as their costumes, and each had a set of small silver bells sewn on a strip of felt that went around their wrist.

  “Yes, Peter?”

  “I have to pee.”

  Nooo! She bent down to his eye level. “You were supposed to go before we left the classroom.”

  “I didn’t need to go then. I need to go now.” He grinned and her heart melted.

  “Okay. Who is your bathroom buddy?”

  “Matthew.”

  “You and Matthew may go down the hall together and use the bathroom, and then come right back. You’ll need to hurry. Do you understand?”