Blown Away

by Muriel Jensen

  Your family. The words did have a certain appeal.

  “What are your thoughts on broccoli beef?” Cole asked Kara, not wanting to examine the thought more closely.

  She studied him a moment, then smiled. “Well, it’s a complicated issue,” she said.

  “No, it’s not,” Taylor announced. “Broccoli is definitely yucky.”

  “I like it—” she said, anticipation lighting her eyes.

  It was obvious to him that she was pleased with the invitation. He liked her lack of artifice.

  “—with a side order of pan-fried noodles instead of rice, and a spring roll.”

  When she smiled at him like that, he’d get her anything she wanted.

  “Oh, no,” Taylor complained. “Let’s get burgers, barbecue, fried chicken—anything else but broccoli!”

  Cole looked to Kara for a decision.

  “I love Chinese food,” she replied. “Shall we meet you there?”

  “No, pile in with me,” he said, opening the passenger door. “I’ll bring you back to your car. We put all your wrap and stuff in the trunk and locked it up, so it should be safe.”

  She urged Taylor in ahead of her. “Then let’s go.”

  Cole drove to an industrial area on the outskirts of Courage Bay. A few lights were strung around the Esmee Engines plant as a concession to Christmas, and a fleet of trucks lined the asphalt outside the warehouse.

  Taylor pointed to the semitrailers. “That’s what I’m going to do when I grow up!” he said. “Drive a big rig all the way across the country.”

  “That’s a good job,” Cole agreed. “You get to be your own boss on the road.”

  “I’d drive that one!” Taylor pointed to a red truck with a big dog painted on the driver’s door. “Only, I’d put Mel’s picture on the door.”

  Taylor continued to make plans about his future in long-haul trucking until Cole pulled into the parking lot of the Chinese restaurant. Once inside, the boy’s high spirits slipped at the prospect of unpalatable food.

  Taylor sat on Cole’s side of the booth while Kara and Cole ordered. The little boy refused a menu, insisting there was nothing on it he’d like. But he placated his mother by telling her he’d microwave her leftover chicken when he got home.

  Cole ordered a selection of appetizers, certain something would tickle Taylor’s appetite.

  When the platter arrived, Taylor sat up, mildly interested. Cole put a spring roll on his plate and pushed the sweet sauce toward him. “Try that,” he encouraged. “Dip it in the red stuff, but be careful of the yellow—it’s hot.” What kid wouldn’t respond to the challenge that he couldn’t handle hot mustard?

  Cole and Kara were talking about her choral group when Taylor began to choke. A large dollop of hot mustard on his plate told the tale. Cole handed him a glass of water, then a fried shrimp to help kill the taste.

  “I don’t think I like seafood,” Taylor said in a raspy voice.

  “Everybody likes this. Try it. Dip it in the red stuff.”

  When he’d eaten the shrimp along with several more spring rolls, Taylor leaned toward the crab puffs. “What are those?”

  “Crab puffs.”

  “More seafood?”

  “Yeah. But you liked the shrimp, right? Would I steer you wrong?”

  Picking one up, Taylor examined it. “I’m supposed to dip it in the red stuff?”

  “Right.”

  He did that and popped it into his mouth, grinned, then reached for another one.

  Rats, Cole thought. The kid liked everything he liked. He’d have to buy another round.

  AS SHE WATCHED HER SON demolish the appetizer plate, Kara made a decision. It didn’t matter what reservations Cole had about getting married again; she was going to help him get over them. Taylor needed Cole as much as she did.

  “I have an extra Christmas tree stand,” she said conversationally, keeping her newfound resolve to herself. “I thought I’d lost mine when we moved here, so I bought another one, then the old one turned up in a box in the basement. I also have a Christmas tree skirt if you need one.”

  “A what?” he asked, puzzled.

  “A tree skirt.” She made a circle in the air with her fork. “You know, it goes under the tree and you put the presents on it.”

  “Ah. That. I thought you just used an old bedsheet.”

  “Well, that’d work, too, but if you want to get serious about decorating, a tree skirt is a must. I have my mother’s, and the one I made for my hope chest. I’ll lend you one. Just wait—we’ll have your house so filled with Christmas cheer you’ll feel like Santa himself.”

  “He is like Santa!” Taylor said, reaching into the pocket of his jacket. He removed a small brown bag, dug into it and handed her a glittery little angel on a gold string. “He bought this for you, ’cause you wrapped all his presents.”

  It was a pretty little angel with a shiny white dress, frothy dark hair and a thin wire halo. A tiny harp was in her hands. “She’s beautiful,” Kara said, frowning at Cole, “but I wrapped your presents because you were so kind about Taylor breaking the door. I was trying to pay you back.”

  “That’s not exactly a payback,” he said, pointing to the angel in her hand. “I just saw it and thought you should have it.”

  “He bought me one, too.” Taylor pulled another ornament out of the sack, this one of Santa waving from the engine of a train.

  Kara took the decoration from him to admire, then handed it back. “Thank you,” she said to Cole. “That was very thoughtful, though not surprising in someone who believes in Santa.”

  Cole turned to Taylor. “You ratted me out.”

  “It’s okay.” Kara attached her angel to the strap of her purse. “I’m a believer, too. Taylor is skeptical, but he’ll come around.”

  Taylor looked from one to the other in confusion. “Mom,” he said, finally focusing on her. “There’s no Santa. It’s just the spirit of…of…”

  Kara helped him out. “Love and generosity. The spirit of Santa. That makes everyone who believes in those things a sort of Santa.”

  He nodded his head in amazement. “That’s what Cole said.” He leaned companionably toward Cole. “Do you have garland and lights? You gotta have those, too.”

  “No,” Cole replied. “But I can pick some up tomorrow. You want to come help me put all this together?”

  “Yeah!” Taylor answered for them, allowing Kara to pretend to have to think about it. “Mom’s the best at it! Huh, Mom?”

  Kara couldn’t remember the last time her son had called her “the best”—even if it was only at decorating a Christmas tree.

  “I am pretty good.” She feigned nonchalance. “We’d love to help if you can take our company two days in a row.”

  The look he sent her was decidedly sexual, yet filled with something else as well. It told her he appreciated her…wanted more of her. Her heartbeat accelerated.

  “Well, today was pretty tough,” Cole joked, passing her the small plate of fortune cookies. “Someone wrapped all my gifts, I had a personal shopper at the toy store, and that same person kept me company over lunch, and tonight he helped me keep my weight down by eating half my dinner.” He laughed as Taylor elbowed him. “I think I could handle another day of the Abbotts.”

  “Then we’re yours,” Kara said. Realizing how wistful she sounded, she added quickly, “For tomorrow, at least.”

  She snapped open her fortune cookie and read aloud. “All good things come to those who are patient.” Dropping the little ribbon of paper into her purse, she prayed that was true.

  Cole drove them back to the mall parking lot, which was almost empty now. He pulled his truck up beside her little silver compact and got out.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” she insisted, but he didn’t seem to be listening. She unlocked the car doors and Taylor climbed into the back seat, then Cole pulled her door open. She turned to him to say good-night, and without warning he put a hand to the back of her head,
the other around her waist, and drew her to him.

  He seemed about to say something. Then, with an abbreviated shake of his head, he changed his mind and kissed her.

  Taken by surprise, she opened her mouth and her arms. He pulled her against him, and she realized how powerful and strong he was. The same thrill of recognition and sensual awareness that she’d felt as he’d held her on the edge of the Embrace washed through her. The promise of both physical and emotional safety.

  His mouth on hers was tender, yet bold—just like the man himself, she thought, before giving herself over to the experience.

  Cole’s a happy bachelor, an annoying little voice prodded her. He was just giving a good-night kiss to a woman he’d enjoyed spending time with.

  But the way his body bent protectively over hers didn’t feel at all casual. And the kiss was impassioned and purposeful.

  When he raised his head, she saw affection in his eyes.

  “What time tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Time,” she repeated, forcing herself down to earth. “How about eleven? I can bring lunch.”

  “I’ll take you and Taylor out somewhere.”

  “No, once we start decorating we won’t want to lose our momentum. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Forcing herself to leave his arms, she climbed in behind the wheel of her car. She felt as though she could make it fly.

  Cole leaned in, said good-night to Taylor, then whispered, “Good night, Kara,” in a way that suggested he didn’t want to leave. “I’ll follow you home.”

  “That’s not…” she began, but again, he wasn’t listening. He’d climbed into the truck and was waiting for her to pull out.

  Thrilled over that kiss and his gentle attentions, she turned the key in the ignition, laughing lightly to herself. She directed a smile at Taylor—who looked back at her as though she’d just slapped him.

  “Why did you do that?” he demanded, his eyes brimming with tears.

  How on earth did a mother explain sexual attraction to an eight-year-old?

  She stepped lightly on the accelerator and drove to the exit. “Because our friendship is special,” she said carefully, trying to sound as though she knew what she was talking about. “And when adults feel that special friendship, they sometimes kiss as a way to…to communicate it.”

  “But you’re married to Dad!”

  “I’m divorced from your dad,” she corrected calmly. “I’ve explained that over and over, Taylor.”

  “Some day he might come back.”

  “Even if he did, we’re not married anymore, and that means I can fall in love with someone else. But I’ll always love you. Nothing can ever change that.”

  Taylor was silent for a moment. She glanced at him worriedly and caught a glimpse of Cole’s headlights in her rearview mirror.

  “I thought you liked Cole,” she said.

  “I do. But Dad’s my dad.”

  “Honey, I know that. And I’m happy that you love him. But you know you can’t count on him to act like a father. He moved far away from us.”

  She wanted to tell him the truth, felt the words come to the tip of her tongue, but protecting Taylor was a deeply rooted instinct. This was not the right time. “He loves you very much,” she said firmly. “But sometimes a husband and wife fall out of love. That’s what happened with your dad and me.”

  “I don’t get it.” Taylor leaned forward in his seat to study her. “You’re a good cook. You always look really pretty, and you get mad if I don’t do what you tell me, but you’re not always yelling, like other moms. What didn’t Dad like?”

  She stopped at a red light, on the brink of tears at his simple and surprising support. “People don’t stop growing even when they become adults,” she said. “They might not get any taller, but everybody’s character keeps growing, and sometimes a husband and wife grow in different directions and want different things. Your dad and I didn’t want the same things anymore.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He wanted to be rich.” The light changed and she drove on. “And that’s not a bad thing. Most people would like to be rich and have a nice house and a fancy car. But underneath all that, most people know that the really important things in life are having someone who loves you, having a job that you like, and enough money for food and a little bit of fun. And of course friends. When you appreciate those things, you’re never unhappy, even if you don’t have a lot of money.”

  “Dad was happy,” Taylor argued. “Except just before he went away.”

  Danny had been a buddy to Taylor when things were going well. And even when they weren’t, he never let Taylor see his dark, desperate moods. Until the last time…

  “I’m just worried,” Taylor said, his voice tight. “If Dad comes back, and Cole’s with you, maybe he won’t stay.”

  Worn down by the argument, Kara took the coward’s way out. “I don’t think that would happen, sweetie. But, anyway, all I did was kiss Cole. A lot more has to happen before a man and a woman decide they love each other and want to get married. So there’s no need to worry at this point.”

  “But he likes you, too. I can tell.”

  “And I like him a lot because he likes you.”

  Taylor sighed. “It’s kind of a mixed-up thing.”

  She glanced back at him. “That’s life in a nutshell, sweetie.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  COLE HAD TO ADMIT that the tree was spectacular. They’d placed it in Kara’s old fluted Christmas tree stand, smack in front of the French doors. As Cole lay on his stomach under the tree to tighten the stand, branches in his ears and eyes, it did occur to him that there was something to be said for artificial trees that could be assembled branch by branch.

  Mel crawled on his belly under the tree and licked Cole’s face in support.

  “That’s perfect!” Kara cried, kicking lightly at the sole of Cole’s shoe. “Come and look. Taylor, isn’t it perfect?”

  “Yeah,” Taylor replied halfheartedly.

  Cole crawled out and stood beside Kara. The tree was beautiful—tall, with evenly spaced branches—and already filling the room with fragrance. Mel barked his approval.

  Kara beamed. Taylor had somehow reverted to the boy Cole had met the day he’d rescued Kara. Taylor had scarcely spoken since he’d arrived with Kara, and seemed determined to stay out of Cole’s way. He couldn’t imagine what accounted for the change in attitude. They’d had such a good time yesterday….

  And then Cole had kissed Kara. Could that be what was bothering him?

  “Looks good,” Cole said.

  “Good?” Kara challenged. “It’s a wonderful tree. And wait until we get it decorated. Did you buy lights and garland?”

  “I did.”

  “Do you have a ladder?”

  He retrieved it from the garage and was carrying it toward the tree when the doorbell rang.

  “Taylor, you want to get that?” Cole asked.

  The boy ran to the door, Mel at his heels. Taylor reappeared with Blaine Hobson. Blaine was redheaded and freckled and wore wire-rimmed glasses. In one hand he carried a foil-wrapped plate.

  “Mom sent cookies,” he said, then he stared openmouthed at the tree. “Wow! When’d you get that?”

  “Last night. You like it?”

  “You never have a tree.”

  “Well, Taylor thought I should have one,” Cole explained. “Guys, this is Blaine Hobson from next door. He goes to St. Patrick’s. Blaine, this is Taylor. And his mom, Mrs. Abbott.”

  Blaine nodded politely at Kara, then at Taylor. “A couple of my friends go to Courage Bay.”

  “I’ve only been there a year,” Taylor said.

  “Our soccer team plays yours. Are you on the team?”

  Taylor stroked Mel’s head, looking uncomfortable. “No. I have trouble kicking the ball. I’m not very good at running, either.”

  Blaine smiled widely. “Same. But I like to watch the games.”

  “Blain
e can play chess and poker,” Cole said, pulling the wrapper off a box of lights, “and he fixed my digital alarm clock. I thought it was broken, but it was just in the wrong mode. You guys want to help me put the lights on the tree?”

  Kara assumed an authoritative stance near the ladder. “I’ll supervise,” she said, as the boys rushed to lend their assistance. She caught Cole’s eye and winked as he climbed up.

  “Good thing you brought lunch,” he said, “or I’d accuse you of being a slacker.”

  “I’m saving myself for the fine work of stringing garlands and placing ornaments.”

  “Mom always has to take the lights off a couple of times before she gets them up right,” Taylor said, as Cole placed one end of a string of lights in Taylor’s hands. “Mom never swears, but she grumbles under her breath a lot.”

  “When I serve the lunch I brought,” Kara said, “you’ll be happy I’m here. How many boxes of lights did you buy?”

  “Four.” He secured the end of the string on a branch, then strung the lights around the tree with the boys’ help.

  “That might do,” Kara said. “No, Cole. Closer than that.”

  “Mom likes lots of lights,” Taylor said. “We have six strings, but our tree’s bigger.”

  “Bigger than eight feet?” Cole asked in disbelief.

  “We have eleven-foot ceilings.” Kara walked around the tree, standing on tiptoe to adjust a row of lights. “Anything smaller than nine or ten feet disappears.”

  Cole seriously doubted that, but she seemed sincere.

  “We have Mr. and Mrs. Santa in the porch swing,” Taylor said, clearly happy about that. Then he frowned slightly. “And we’re supposed to have reindeer on the roof, but we can’t get them up there.”

  “Really?” Cole pretended surprise. “I thought they flew.”

  Taylor and Blaine looked at each other in confused concern. Then Taylor laughed. “No, you didn’t! They’re not real, anyway. They’re just plastic.”

  “Oh. No wonder. Then I guess I’ll have to come to your house and help you get them up.”

  “It’s a steep roof,” Kara warned.

  Cole peered down at her from the ladder. “I got you down from the top of a tree at the top of a very high hill, remember?”