Sunny's Second Chance

by Nola Cross

  “Yes!”

  She watched as the two small boys scampered off. Now several other children raised their hands and asked to go. One by one she talked them into waiting. Finally, she opened the door a crack and peeked into the auditorium. The first graders were almost done with their play. She spotted Jasmine on stage in her angel wings and robe, her tinfoil halo askew. A surge of emotion filled her chest. Charles should be here! What was wrong with the man that he could so easily flick aside his little girl’s pleas to attend the Christmas program?

  And what was wrong with her own judgment that she had been attracted to such an ass in the first place?

  God! She’d been asking herself that one for months, ever since he’d told her he was leaving them.

  What had she ever seen in her ex-husband? A steady job, a sexy smile, a nice car? Was that enough to warrant marrying a guy? Oh, and there was that other thing—the man did know how to make her cry out for more in bed. They’d had some pretty amazing chemistry going for them in the beginning. But then Jasmine had come along, and everything seemed to change. It was almost as if Charles resented the time and attention she gave their baby girl. By the time Sharina appeared on the scene, they’d become strangers to each other in the bedroom. But that still didn’t explain how he could turn a deaf ear to his only child. Sunny’s belly squeezed anxiously. Somehow, she vowed, she would find a way to shield Jasmine from Charles’s cruel negligence.

  Miraculously, Matthew and Peter returned from the bathroom just as Jasmine’s class play finished, and in a moment Sunny marched into the auditorium with her students following along. They did a credible job of singing the classic Christmas song, and the applause that followed was as much for the end of the program as for their delivery.

  Twenty minutes later, Sunny had located Jasmine, and the two of them stood off to one side in the school cafeteria, munching gingerbread cookies and drinking punch from paper cups. Several parents had approached, introduced themselves, and complimented Sunny on how well the class had performed.

  In between introductions, Jasmine anxiously watched the door, waiting for her father to make a belated appearance. The longer this went on, the madder Sunny got. God damn the man! How dare he stand up his daughter again?

  “Are those cookies really that bad?”

  Sunny looked up to find Ben Stillman standing a few feet away, his own uneaten cookie in hand. Spencer trailed behind sucking on a candy cane.

  “Pardon?” she asked.

  “From the expression on your face just now, I’m wondering if I dare to take a bite.”

  Sunny made an effort to unfurl her brow and relax her breathing. She even managed a weak smile. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

  “Your ex?”

  “How did you guess?”

  He tipped his head toward Jasmine, who had climbed on a chair behind her and was staring intently toward the door. The small girl’s lower lip was quivering.

  “He’s not coming, is he, Mama?”

  Her heart breaking, Sunny shook her head. “I don’t think so, baby.”

  She watched helplessly as two fat tears made tracks down Jasmine’s chubby cheeks. Even wrapping her arms around the child didn’t stop her crying. Sunny sighed. It was going to be another long evening trying to get her calmed down and off to sleep. They might as well head for home now. The noisy crowd of parents and kids was thinning anyway.

  “Spencer and I were about to go see the lights on Peacock Lane. Would you like to come with us?”

  She turned and stared. What was this guy’s angle? What in God’s name would make him think she’d be willing to get in a car with someone she barely knew, and make the twenty minute trip to the northeast Portland neighborhood famous for its extreme Christmas lighting? Once they got there, the drive down the two-block street would take another twenty minutes, as onlookers gawked at the decorated homes and cars moved at a snail’s pace. She was exhausted, and Jasmine was certainly in no mood.

  “I don’t think—”

  “Can we, Mama? Please?” As if someone had waved a magic wand over Jasmine’s tears, her daughter’s face was now wreathed in a hopeful smile. Sunny blinked. Did she really have a choice here?

  “Well, I—” she began again.

  “Puleeease.” Jasmine clutched at her and hopped up and down. Spencer began to hop in place as well, echoing her daughter.

  Sunny looked at Ben and rolled her eyes, then gave in with a grin. “Sure. That’s nice. Thank you.”

  He smiled and nodded. “We can take my SUV. It has great visibility.”

  “Fine,” she said.

  She had worried about what they might find to talk about on the drive to Peacock Lane, but the two kids filled the back seat of the car with happy chatter, sharing their Christmas lists and describing in detail why each coveted toy would be the ultimate gift.

  “Captain Perry is the best action figure. He’s a total geek too. His hand transforms to fit in a USB port.”

  “What’s a USB port?” Jasmine asked.

  “It’s a port on a computer you can plug stuff in, like cords and stuff. Captain Perry can run cool video programs from his hand.”

  “Really? That’s awesome. I wish my WonderTales Pony could do that.”

  Sunny smiled to herself. Jasmine talked as if she already owned the new toy that was hidden on the top shelf of the hall closet. There was nothing quite as sweet as an innocent child’s anticipation of Christmas magic. Before she could help herself, she found herself glancing toward Ben, wanting to share the perfection of the moment with him. As if he had the same thought, he took his eyes from the road, and just for a few seconds their gazes met. Even in the relative darkness of the car, she could see the white flash of his teeth, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and guessed that he had some happy Christmas memories to draw from too.

  “Are you from the Portland area, Sunny?” He returned his focus to the road, and a misty rain began, making it necessary to start the wipers. Their soft rhythm filled the space between his question and her answer. They were about to cross a line here, she realized, about to go beyond idle patter. Did she want to share more personal information with Ben Stillman? Even as nice as he seemed to be, she hesitated. He waited.

  “No. Southern California. I moved here with Charles the year before Jasmine was born.”

  “Is your family still there?”

  “My dad passed two years ago. Mom’s remarried and living in Florida. I have one sister but I have no idea where she is.”

  “Sounds like there might be a story there,” he said after a few seconds.

  “Not really. We simply lost touch. You know how it goes.”

  He threw her a quick look she couldn’t read. She was surprised to realize it wasn’t that hard sharing with him after all. He was respectful and actually seemed interested in what she had to say.

  “How about you, Ben? Are you from around here?”

  He nodded. “I am. Lived here all my life. I even bought a house just two blocks from my folks.”

  “Oh, so Spencer has grandparents nearby. That’s nice. Did they come to the program tonight?”

  “No. They’re on a two month European tour, having the time of their lives.”

  “Lucky them,” she said.

  They both chuckled.

  “Have you ever been to Europe?” he asked.

  “No. But I’ve always wanted to see Italy.” She gave a little sigh. That silly dream seemed made of delicate cobwebs, it was so old and insubstantial.

  “Perhaps one day,” he suggested. His voice held a note of credulity, as if he believed her dreams were perfectly plausible.

  “Not likely. Not on a teacher’s salary.”

  “You’ll find a way.”

  She hardly knew what to say to that. He seemed to think it was just a matter of deciding to go. Feeling a prickle of irritation at his overly optimistic attitude, she was glad to look ahead and see the long line of tail lights approaching the turn to
Peacock Lane. They drew up at the end of the line.

  “Shouldn’t be too long a wait. Should we have some Christmas music?”

  Without waiting for a response, he poked the play button on his CD deck and the quiet strains of Silent Night filled the car. It was Sunny’s favorite carol. Almost immediately she felt herself begin to relax again.

  “That’s a nice arrangement.”

  He nodded. “I think so too.”

  The SUV inched forward, the brake lights of the car ahead casting a reddish glow on everything inside. He sat quietly now. The children were quieter too, craning to see what lay ahead.

  “Can we unbuckle, Dad?” Spencer asked.

  “Not ’til we turn off this busy street, okay, bud?”

  About that time a man wearing a food vendor’s tray came abreast of them on the sidewalk. He tapped on Sunny’s window, making her squeak in alarm. It had stopped drizzling as Ben lowered her window and leaned across her, his arm accidentally brushing her thighs.

  “What have you got?” Ben’s voice was jovial and earnest, as if the four of them hadn’t just been munching cookies and swilling hot chocolate a half hour before.

  “Caramel corn. Peanuts. Chocolate Santas.” The man winked at Sunny.

  “I don’t know, Ben,” she said. “All that sugar just before bed. And we just had cookies.” She tried not to notice the close-up view of his face as he leaned across her, the strands of silver at his temple, mixed into the thick gold of his hair. She tried not to breathe in the unique combination of breezy cologne and male skin. The scents were subtle, intriguing.

  “What have you got without a lot of sugar?” Ben asked the vendor.

  “Buttered popcorn.”

  “Great. We’ll take four bags.” He handed a twenty to the man. “Keep the change.”

  Sunny took the bags of corn one at a time and passed them around the car.

  “Careful not to spill in Mr. Stillman’s nice clean car,” she warned Jasmine.

  “Relax. It’s just popcorn,” Ben said. He rolled the window up and leaned back in his seat, then tossed a kernel up into the air and caught it in his mouth. The kids cheered. Next thing she knew, they were tossing popcorn in the air too and giggling with glee as the little puffs bounced off their faces and disappeared on to the seats and floor.

  Sunny felt another twinge of irritation as she faced forward and ate her treat, one sedate kernel at a time. In some ways, Ben Stillman reminded her of an overgrown kid. She loved kids, but she had to deal with them every day at her job. And after Charles, the last person she needed in her life was another man who hadn’t finished growing up.

  * * * *

  Finally they’d progressed far enough to make the turn onto Peacock Lane itself. As he nosed the SUV around the corner, Ben’s field of vision was overwhelmed by every imaginable color and configuration of holiday lighting display. Every house on both sides of the two-block span was completely decked out, roofs, eaves, and windows outlined, many of the lights programmed to flash in time to an amplified rendition of Ode to Joy that could be heard even in the closed car. Half the yards boasted inflatable snowmen or reindeer, and animated Santas waved from chimneys or clung to ladders all up and down the street. Several more vendors hawked their wares from the sidewalks. There was even a chunky fellow in a Santa suit passing candy canes into open car windows.

  “Wow!” Both kids unbuckled their seat belts and lunged forward, hanging over the front seats so they could see better. Popcorn spilled down Ben’s shoulder and into his lap. Spencer jabbered a mile a minute in his right ear, happily pointing out each new delight, and Jasmine oohed and ahhed from behind him. From out of nowhere, he felt laughter bubbling up in his throat.

  Laughter!

  This is worlds apart from last Christmas.

  A year ago, Corinne was dying. Only five weeks from leaving them, she had lain on the couch and watched while Ben put up the small fir tree. He hadn’t wanted to do the whole holiday shtick, but she had convinced him that Spencer needed it, needed a sense of normalcy. And on some level, it had worked. The boy had loved the sparkly tree, the stockings hung from the mantel, the trip to the mall to see Santa. But when Spencer had looked up into the kind, bearded face and said that he just wanted his mom to feel better, it was clear to Ben that his son was not fooled.

  Thank God for his folks! They had been the quintessential doting grandparents, spoiling Spencer rotten and distracting him in those last days when Corrine had needed Ben beside her 24/7. She had fought bravely, but in the end she lost her battle, leaving him to navigate the ravaged landscape of their decimated family on his own.

  He couldn’t say how he’d accomplished it, but somehow he had managed to keep things together for himself and his boy. Again, his parents had stepped in. His mother had watched Spencer during the day, and Ben went back to work only two weeks after the funeral. In retrospect, that had probably been too soon. He wasn’t particularly productive that first month. But he had to start somewhere.

  If someone had told him then that he would be laughing again in less than a year, actually enjoying the very next holiday season, he would have called them crazy. In fact, it was only two short weeks ago that his mother had pulled him aside and patted his cheek and looked long into his eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with us going, Ben? We can put this trip off ’til next summer if you’d prefer.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Go. Have a great time.” He’d said the words, but honestly had not believed them.

  But tonight, suddenly, they felt true. He was fine.

  And Spencer was fine too. That was obvious as he and little Jasmine bubbled over with seasonal joy in the seat behind him, their warm, sweet breath gusting against his neck.

  And funny thing, the good feelings all seemed to have something to do with the woman sitting beside him. How could that be? He barely knew her.

  Ben shifted in his seat, pretending to study the lighted homes on the right side of the street as the car crawled along at maybe three miles per hour. This gave him the opportunity to study Sunny more closely too. She sat with her back straight, clutching her popcorn, a little smile tipping up the corners of her wide mouth as she took in the busy scene. Her empty hand tapped on her knee in time to Ode.

  Bundled in her wool coat in the dim car, her body was nondescript. But he remembered how she had looked at Mr. Toad’s two weeks earlier when she’d draped her coat over a chair. Her body was lush and feminine, the type of body that welcomed a man home with an easy softness. His favorite kind of female body.

  For an instant he felt a stab of guilt. In the end, Corrine’s body had been wasted and bony. He’d been afraid to really hug her, afraid he would cause her more pain. But that hadn’t been her fault. That was the cancer eating her alive, and the effects of the treatment to try and save her. Once, she had been as ripe and beautiful and sexy as Sunny Williamson.

  The new realization smacked him like a cold, wet towel. He was attracted to this woman. Sexually! As he considered the idea further, he felt his body responding, waking up, remembering what it felt like to be a man. The beginnings of an erection stirred in his lap. He stared down at himself in the darkness. Half of him was chagrined at the inconvenient timing.

  The other half was dancing in the street.

  Truthfully, over the last year, he’d had some irrational fears that the sexual phase of his life might be over for good. Now, all he could think about was how good Sunny smelled, how inviting her lips were, and how much he wished he could take her to bed.

  Ben had never been with a woman of color before; it didn’t occur to him now that the difference in their races should have any meaningful impact on what happened next between them. He remembered her skin as a smooth medium-brown color, something like sandalwood. The idea of touching her, caressing that skin, pressing his lips to her shoulders and breasts filled him with utter exaltation.

  Hell yes! I’m alive!

  Even as he expanded, his every fiber celebrati
ng the fact that he could experience such strong emotions again, he realized how inappropriate an outward expression of the urge would be. The woman had given no indication that she’d be open to a relationship of any kind with him. On the contrary, she’d clearly not been wild about coming with him tonight. She’d probably only done so to distract Jasmine from her sadness. Even when they had chatted earlier about her family and her dreams of going abroad, she’d maintained an air of coolness.

  So, it seemed very doubtful that Sunny would return his ardor. Perhaps now that he’d been “reborn”, the feelings could transfer to some other woman he already knew. Someone like Vickie Dalton from work, who’d made it clear she was interested. For about five seconds he considered what it might be like to go out with the cute, vivacious redhead. He imagined kissing her, unbuttoning that lacy white blouse she sometimes wore. Immediately, his erection began to soften, and he felt overcome by distraction and sadness again.

  Ben blinked in confusion.

  Apparently the return of his libido directly coincided to being in close proximity to Sunny Williamson.

  Chapter 3

  “Have you guys got your tree yet?” Ben asked.

  Sunny swung around to face him, her mind whirling. “Yes,” she lied, hoping that the low light wouldn’t give her deception away. She could easily imagine where he was going with his question, and being cooped up in the SUV with both kids, two Christmas trees, and an overgrown teenage boy was not something she particularly looked forward to.

  What is his problem anyway? Why would he glom on to a couple of complete strangers?

  “No we haven’t, Mama.” There was disbelief and outrage in Jasmine’s voice from the back seat.

  Sunny scrambled to cover her ass. “That is, I reserved one at the lot on the corner near our house.”

  “Really? You get your tree already cut from a lot in the city?” He made a tsk-tsking sound.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s not very traditional, is it? Wouldn’t you rather go out in nature and pick exactly the right tree and cut it fresh yourself?”