Jack sat beside her and looked at her friends. “You want to introduce me?”
Emmy pointed around the table. “Abby, Simon, Stephanie and Brody.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. What are you having for lunch?”
“Chicken noodle and grilled cheese,” said Emmy.
“And carrots and broccoli,” added Simon as he wrinkled his nose.
“Did you just move here?” asked Brody.
“I did,” Jack responded.
“’Cause Emmy didn’t have a daddy before,” said Abby.
Emmy leaned forward. “Yes, I did. I just didn’t know him yet.”
Jack’s neck and cheeks warmed again, and his hands began to sweat. Wiping them on his pants, he decided he wasn’t going to get a break today. “I’m here now.” He looked at each one of them. “I hear we’re going to have a Christmas pageant in a few days.”
The kids started talking all at once, and Jack tried to listen to who was going to be a present and a tree and Santa Claus and elves and Virginia and the editor of the newspaper. Shifting in his seat, he spied Emma’s class line up to leave the lunchroom. He wondered if he should walk over to her and offer a high-five or give her a hug. As shy as she tended to be, any show of affection might embarrass her too much.
She finally sneaked a peek at him, and he waved. She nodded just a tad, then faced forward in the line. He’d wait on the high-five or hug.
Emmy and her friends continued to talk about the pageant and who sang the loudest or had the most speaking parts, until their teacher called for them to line up. He gave Emmy a quick hug and kissed the top of her head. “I can’t wait to see you in the pageant. You’ll be the prettiest elf ever.”
Emmy beamed. “Thanks, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
* * *
Jack opened the car door for Pamela. The ride to the school Christmas program had been a bit awkward, since they hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since the night of their kiss. He had the added embarrassment of the school’s receptionist calling to ask Pamela’s permission to see their children at lunch. Still, he was glad she’d agreed to ride together. They planned to take the girls for ice cream after the program, and as uncomfortable as things might be at times, he wanted them all to be a family again.
They walked into the auditorium and Pamela pointed to a place in the middle near the front. “How ’bout we sit there?”
“Looks good to me.”
Pamela stopped and talked with a couple he’d never seen before. She introduced them quickly, and he nodded a hello. After sitting down, she leaned toward him. The floral scent of her hair stirred his stomach, and he wished to lean closer and sniff his fill. “I don’t see my parents. Do you?”
Jack scanned the audience. The place was packed so tight he wondered if it was a fire hazard. He shook his head. “I’m sure they’re here somewhere. They left before we did.”
His cell phone dinged, and Jack pulled it out of his front pocket. Kari had texted to tell him their mom had been feeling poorly again. Depression and muscle weakness seemed especially challenging during the most recent MS attack. He’d have to call her when he got home.
“Was that about the shelter?” asked Pamela.
He shook his head. “Mom’s had an attack again. Seems they’re coming more often.”
Pamela touched the top of his hand. “I’m sorry, Jack.”
“Thanks.” He took her hand in his, and to his pleasure, she didn’t pull away. “So, how do these programs work?”
Pamela chuckled. “As long as we don’t have a repeat of two years ago, all will be fine.” She smacked her knee. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget when Simon had an accident onstage, and Emmy saw it, panicked and then threw up all over him. He screamed and ran off the stage.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “Sounds like quite a show.”
She wiped her eyes. “I’ll never get over it.”
She giggled again, and Jack squeezed her hand. She’d curled her red locks, and they rested in waves below her shoulders. The deep blue turtleneck sweater enhanced the bright blue of her eyes. He leaned closer to her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks bloomed pink as she crossed her legs. He admired the knee-high heeled boots and khaki skirt she wore.
The lights dimmed, and Jack focused his attention to the front. Music started, and a bunch of kids rushed to the stage. One wore a pair of oversize glasses, a gray-haired wig and a long skirt, obviously playing the teacher or librarian or something. He searched for Emmy and Emma but didn’t see them anywhere.
Pamela whispered, “Emma will be in the next scene. She’ll be a reporter.”
Jack nodded. “Does she have a speaking part?”
Pamela chortled. “Are you kidding?”
Jack grinned. “Guess not. What about Emmy?”
“She would, but second graders aren’t allowed.”
Jack nodded and watched as the scene changed, and Emma walked onto the stage with a group of kids. He pulled out his phone and took a picture. When Emmy ran out as one of Santa’s elves a few scenes later, he took a picture of her, as well. The play ended, and the audience erupted in applause. He glanced at Pamela. “They did a great job.”
“They always do. I don’t know how Mrs. Lewis, their music teacher, accomplishes it, but she puts on a great play every year.”
Once the children were dismissed, the girls bounded out from behind stage and hugged Pamela and Jack. He smiled at each of them. “You did a great job.”
“Are we going for ice cream?” asked Emmy.
“Of course,” Jack said. “Didn’t I promise I’d take you if you did a great job?”
Emma twisted her foot. “Well, I did kinda trip when I went onstage the first time.”
“I didn’t notice it.” Jack patted her shoulder. “I thought you did wonderful.”
“Was I the best elf ever, like you said?” asked Emmy.
Jack tweaked her nose. “Of course you were.”
“You know what that means.” Pamela pumped her fist through the air. “Ice cream, here we come.”
The girls cheered, and they all rushed to the car. Once at the ice-cream parlor, they sat at what had become their usual table with their usual orders.
“So, what did you think? I mean really,” asked Emma.
“I think I’m looking at the best reporter and the best elf in the play,” said Jack.
“I agree,” Pamela offered.
The girls giggled as they dug into their desserts. Jack cherished each moment, committing each word, glance and smile to memory.
“We better head back. We’ve got school tomorrow,” said Pamela.
“Aww,” the girls whined in unison.
“Better listen to your mom.” Jack stood, picked up their trash and threw it away. “Although I am surprised the program was on a school night.”
“Second Thursday in December every year,” said Pamela. “I think they schedule it like that because so many of the kids have multiple family gatherings to attend during the holidays.”
Jack figured as much. Many of those gatherings were because the children had multiple families to visit. Mom’s side. Dad’s side. Stepmom’s side. Stepdad’s side. His stomach quivered at the idea of the girls visiting another man’s relatives, and again he prayed God would reunite the family he had torn apart.
Once back at the cabin, Jack walked them to the front door. The girls gave him a quick kiss and then ran into the house and to their bedroom to change for bed. Jack pulled a check out of his front pocket and handed it to Pamela. “When can I see you all again?”
“You could come for dinner after church on Sunday.”
Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be there.”
Pamela leaned against the door. “It was nice to watch the play with you.”
“I’m glad I got to see it.” He reached over and touched her hand. “I’m also glad I was with you.”
She pushed away from the door. “Sorry, Jack. I have to do this one more time.”
Before he could respond, she leaned forward, lifted her chin and pressed her lips to his. He sucked in a breath. He hadn’t expected that, but he surely wouldn’t deny her. Pulling her to him, he deepened the kiss, silently begging her to know the passion he felt.
She gasped and pushed away, then licked her bottom lip. The action stirred him, and he reached for her again.
“Night, Jack.” Shaking her head, she rested her palm against his chest.
Fire seared through him. Jack bit back a growl as she stepped inside the cabin and shut the door behind her. He stalked back to the car and hopped inside. His phone dinged, and he pulled it out of his pocket. Another text from Kari.
He pressed her number on the speed dial. Kari sounded older than her years when she answered. “Hi, Jack.”
“Hey, Kari. What’s up?”
“Not Mom, that’s for sure. She’s pretty down this time. Depressed, I mean. Todd even had to help her get to the bathroom today when I was in the shower.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“Working all the time.” Kari sighed. “Hiding if you ask me.”
Jack’s heart twisted. He wished he could visit his family, take some of the pressure off his siblings, if only for a few days. His dad had to work a lot of hours to pay for Mom’s medical bills, but he did seem to work more than necessary when she was having an attack. Jack had come to realize his dad wasn’t trying to avoid helping Mom, but avoiding watching her in pain.
“I wish I could come to Texas and see you all.”
“Why don’t you?” asked Kari. “Just fly out for a few days.”
“If only it were that easy.” He gave Pamela every spare penny he earned, and she deserved it. She was his wife, and the girls were his children. It was his responsibility and desire to provide for them.
“Mom’s calling. I gotta go.”
“Kari?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m praying for you all.”
“We need it.”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
He pushed the end button and dropped the phone onto the passenger seat. As he drove back to his apartment, he lifted a prayer for his mom and dad, sister and brother, Pamela and their girls. With a heavy heart, he parked the car, then picked up the phone and dialed Jermaine’s number. He needed some wise counsel. He might even call Owen afterward and see if his buddy was available to catch a movie or hit the bowling alley. Jack had a feeling he wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight.
Chapter 14
Once inside the building, Pamela pulled off her gloves and untied her scarf. The temperature had dropped. Snow flurries fell, dotting the ground. Though not a usual fan of the cold, she didn’t mind the weather in December. The cooler air made her feel as if Christmas was coming in a little over a week. Made her want to listen to Bing Cosby singing “White Christmas” or watch Jimmy Stewart as he listened to his daughter share when angels get their wings.
Warmth flooded her as she remembered Christmas shopping with Jack. They’d had a terrific time buying for the girls. His eyes had lit with delight with each present she suggested, even the doll clothes. She had no doubt he regretted the time he’d missed with them. And he had changed. Just as he said.
Unbuttoning her coat, she recalled the kiss they’d shared on the couch after the excursion. She’d yearned for the union she’d once known. She’d had the strength to deny the urges, but her mind replayed the kisses throughout the night and the next day. And the day after that.
Walking into Dr. Mays’s classroom, her cheeks burned when she remembered kissing Jack again the night of the Christmas program. What had she been thinking? Leading him on was wrong, and she wasn’t ready to get back together with him. Fear of giving herself to him again only to be left a second time made her sick to her stomach. Part of her wanted to trust, to just let go and give it a shot. The other part of her wanted to protect herself.
“Can you believe we’re here?”
Pamela blinked away her thoughts and focused on the short-haired girl who’d just said something to her.
“None of my other classes met today. The tests were all online, and my papers were emailed.”
Pamela smiled at her. They’d never spoken. She considered introducing herself, then decided there would be little point since it was the last class of the semester. “Dr. Mays is definitely old-school.”
The girl huffed. “Try ancient-school. I haven’t had to actually print a paper to turn in to the teacher since middle school.”
Pamela laughed. “At least this should be quick. All he has to do is hand back our last assignment.”
She growled. “I know. If I don’t get a B on this paper, I’ll have to take the class again.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can listen to him for another semester.”
“I have to get a B in order to keep my scholarship.”
Dr. Mays walked in and shut the door. Pamela sat up in the seat. The girl leaned over. “Good luck.”
Pamela nodded. “You, too.”
Dr. Mays opened his briefcase and pulled out their papers. He talked about enjoying the class and hoping they’d learned many financial management skills. Pamela tried to focus on his words, but her eyes and mind stayed focused on the stack sitting on the corner of his desk. If she got a B on this paper, she’d get a C in the class. Because she had As in her other classes, she could make the C and keep a 3.5 grade point average.
She rubbed her hands together. He needed to pass out the papers already. Surely he knew they were all about to explode from anxiety.
He picked up the stack. Pamela bit her bottom lip and offered a silent plea to God for a good grade.
“You’re free to go when I give you your paper,” said Dr. Mays. “Enjoy your winter break.”
He paused. “Oh, yes, and for your convenience, I wrote your grade in the class on the top left corner.” He chuckled, a sound that reminded her of a fake laugh. “No need to wait until final grades are posted on the web.”
Pamela’s heartbeat raced as he passed the papers to her peers. She closed her eyes when he laid the paper on her desk. Sucking in a breath, she opened them and smiled. She got an A. Glancing at the top left corner, her heart plummeted into her gut when she read D.
She furrowed her brows as she pulled the syllabus out of her folder. Checking each grade and calculating the average, the D didn’t make sense. She should have a C in the class with no problem now that she’d gotten an A on the final paper.
The girl beside her pumped her fist in the air. “I did it.” She held up her paper, showing a C on the assignment and a D in the class. “How ’bout you?”
Pamela shifted in her seat. “I’m going to have to talk with him. I got an A on the paper, but he’s showing I have a D in the class. Doesn’t make sense.”
The girl stood. “Well, good luck again to you, and have a good break.”
Pamela nodded. She’d kept each assignment and test for the class. Pulling them out of her folder, she recalculated the scores. I should have a C.
Her heartbeat raced, and her hands grew clammy as she waited for Dr. Mays to finish passing out papers. When the last person finally left, he walked back to his desk. She gathered her syllabus and papers and stood beside him. “Dr. Mays, I have a question about my grade.”
He didn’t look at her. “Grade’s at the top.”
“Yes, I know, but my calculations show I should have a C in the class, not a D.”
He looked up,
peering over the rim of his glasses at her. With an exaggerated sigh, he held out his hand. “Let me see.”
She swallowed the knot in her throat and willed her heart not to beat out of her chest as he thumbed through her papers and punched the figures on his calculator. “Hmm,” he said. “Your calculations do appear correct.” He pulled a grade book out of his bag. “Let me see what I have written down.”
She waited as he found her name, then tapped a place on the book. “This is why I love the old method of grading.” He smiled at her. “I made an error, and since you kept all your papers, you were able to catch it.” He wrote a number in the book. “I neglected to give you a score for an assignment.” He tapped the second paper she’d written for him. “But you have proof of completion and a grade.” He handed her the papers, then patted her back. “Great job. Congratulations.”
Ignoring the fact that she felt as if she were a two-year-old being congratulated for using the bathroom correctly, she shoved the papers back in her folder and nodded to him. “Thank you, Dr. Mays.”
He grinned. “Have a terrific break, Ms. Isaacs.”
She nodded again as she turned and walked out the door. She could have mentioned that if he’d embrace the technological age that she still would have had proof of turning in the paper, probably more so, because it would have been time-stamped in the class’s drop box. But she didn’t. It was his class, and if he wanted to be old-school about it, that was his choice.
After wrapping her scarf around her neck, she pulled on her gloves. She smiled as the weight of the class finally lifted from her chest. She’d gotten a C. She would keep her scholarship.
* * *
Jack turned the key in the ignition of the shelter’s van. He shook his head at Owen. “See. Nothing. No turnover at all.”
Owen scratched his head. “Probably the starter, but I’m about as good with cars as a piano player with no fingers.”
Jack scrunched his nose. “Where do you come up with these comparisons?”
Owen grinned and shrugged.
Jack hopped out of the driver’s seat and walked back to the front of the van. He looked at the engine and all the various hoses and gadgets. “I don’t want to call Pastor Mark. The electric bill was already a few hundred dollars higher because of the cold weather.”
A Family Reunited Page 10
