Tidings of Love

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  A satisfied smile crossed Joe’s face. “Wonderful. I’ll check the turkey and then get a bath started.”

  Joe had already disappeared into the kitchen when Sam called after him.

  “Are we eating only turkey?” Sam fished into the pocket of my coat and withdrew the keys to my bug. “Dad?”

  “Sam, have I ever just offered one thing for dinner?” Joe reappeared with his hand on his hip, a turkey baster in the other hand, and a chef’s hat that was slipping off the side of his head.

  Sam and I burst out laughing.

  “What the hell?” Sam said.

  Joe’s cheeks reddened. “Like it? I found it in the cooking aisle when I was shopping for a roasting pan.”

  My chest rose and fell with elation and a tinge of sadness. He wanted this to be special. Mark never did that. I don’t know why my recently remarried ex-husband surfaced in my mind, only that he did. Mark and his new wife were probably in newlywed heaven with my children around their table. Bastard. I stood and Joe’s blue, blue eyes questioned me as I approached. I half expected him to step away from me, but he didn’t. I rose on my tiptoes, straightened his hat, and then gently kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  A startled gaze flickered across his face and then settled into a pleased look of surprise. “For what?”

  “Making this first Thanksgiving memorable.”

  “This is your first Thanksgiving?” Sam was off to the side, a bystander to the moment.

  I shook my head but never let my focus veer from Joe. “No. I’ve experienced many Thanksgivings—this is just my first one as a … ” I wasn’t sure what my title was when I wasn’t Mark’s wife or John and Jessica’s mom.

  “Single woman.” My editor finished my incomplete sentence. The awareness settled in my body with an assurance I hadn’t claimed. Suddenly, single wasn’t bad. In fact, standing in front of Joe in his sweet chef’s hat, being single opened a whole new world of possibilities. And they all looked good.

  Chapter 8

  I dipped my toe into the water. Foamy, frothy, citrus-infused bubbles collected in puffs around the tub.

  “It’s Tahitian Sunrise,” Joe said from the kitchen.

  I had quickly become accustomed to the fact that Joe liked to converse through the partially closed bathroom door. It had an It Happened One Night, Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert feel to it. Only, instead of dividing a bedroom into two parts by stringing a clothesline, Joe toed the line of appropriate date behavior by keeping a partially opened door between us. And in the off chance he’d catch a glimpse of me naked from between the hinges on the door, I propped the shower rod, with the curtain wrapped around it, in the corner, behind the door. It was another casualty from our bathroom catastrophe. The shower rod was not only cockeyed, it now had a dent from Joe’s hand when he reached for it. There weren’t any stores open on Thanksgiving, so I couldn’t repair the damage, but I could lower myself into the tub and not create more calamity. Bubbles surrounded me.

  “You like it?” Joe asked.

  “Very much.”

  “Good. Your jeans are in the wash, and I put some clothes in the guest bedroom.”

  I heard the front door slam.

  A light rap on the bathroom door followed. “Janey?”

  It was Sam. Crap. Does he need the bathroom? I was so used to my little ones joining me in the bathroom. He wouldn’t do that, right?

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Are there any nuts in the fudge?”

  I exhaled. “Nope. No nuts.”

  I moved the water around with my hands and sank further into the tub, leaning my head against the edge. Heaven. I’m having dinner with my editor and he’s cooking, his kid is eating fudge, mine are probably being spoiled by their new step-monster, and I’m in a hot bath—alone. No interruptions. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. I bathed in coconut-inspired waters, which transported me to a beach somewhere. Like Brazil. They had warm winters. I imagined Joe with his shirt off, handing me a drink with an umbrella floating in it. In my mind, he was about to kiss me when another rap on the bathroom door slowly returned me to Wyoming.

  “Janey?”

  I nodded toward Joe’s voice. “Uh-huh.”

  “The fudge doesn’t have nuts, right?”

  “That’s right, no nuts,” I said with my eyes still closed and Joe’s lips moments from claiming mine. Suddenly, I found myself hoping the Joe on the other side of the door would come in and capture that kiss.

  “Are you sure?” His voice echoed with concern.

  “Uh-huh.” Bubbles clung to my body like second skin. “No nuts.” The water lapping against the tub was truly hypnotic. I was in a bubble bath haze.

  “Because Sam’s allergic to nuts and … ” Joe paused. “May I come in?”

  Before I could answer, he stepped into the bathroom. His eyes fixated on me. “Um … ” He quickly lowered his gaze. I glanced to make sure all the necessary body parts were covered. Still, I pulled my knees toward my chest.

  “Is everything okay?”

  He shook his head slightly. His chef’s hat bobbled. “There’s an EpiPen in the first aid kit.” He pointed toward the cabinet above the commode and walked toward it. “Sam had some of the white fudge … ” Joe grabbed what looked like a permanent marker out of the plastic box.

  “White fudge?” Now I was shaking my head. “Oh, no!” I started to stand and remembered I really was naked. I dunked back beneath the suds. “That’s divinity. The divinity has pecans.”

  “Dad?”

  Joe rushed out of the bathroom. His hat slipped off his head, and in the blur of activity he left the bathroom door wide open. With no shower curtain to hide behind, I felt as exposed as a turkey on a Thanksgiving Day hunt. I scanned the bathroom for a towel.

  A hand towel was draped on the sink. I quickly stood and reached for it. Oh … that’s small. It would maybe cover half a breast and that’d be stretching it. I placed the towel on the side of the tub and looked for something larger. The hat. I leaned over the tub and hooked the chef’s hat with my index finger. I sat back down in the water and held it up. The hat was tall with a wide, pleated band, but it was clearly not enough material to cover the rest of my body. Great. I placed the hat on my head and called toward the front room. “Joe? Is Sam okay?” Did I poison your son?

  When there was no response, my heart rate quickened. Shit. His son may have lost consciousness because of my baking. I quickly considered my options. The shower curtain. I could unravel it, unhook it from the rod, wrap it around myself, and go check on them. I grabbed the hand towel and rose out of the water. The bubbles had thinned and covered me about as well as feathers do for a turkey. Then the bubbles started bursting as quickly as turkey feathers could be removed. It was just a matter of moments before, like the plucked turkey, breasts and thighs would be fully bare.

  I held the hand towel up in front of me and stepped out of the tub. I was heading toward the shower curtain when Joe walked in.

  I shrieked and so did he.

  “I didn’t see anything!” he hollered and covered his eyes with his hand.

  I practically dove back into the tub and gathered every remaining bubble around me. “How’s Sam?”

  “May I open my eyes?”

  “Yes.” When I looked up, I noticed that Joe’s sky-blue and white jersey was streaked with chocolate fudge and divinity. “Oh, my gosh! What happened?”

  “Sam thought the divinity was fudge.”

  “I got that. Is he okay?”

  Joe exaggerated an eye roll. “He’s better. Sam hates nuts, and nuts aren’t too fond of Sam. He had one bad experience with cashews, so we avoid all products with nuts. When we realized there were nuts in the divinity, well, it seems to help him, at least mentally, if he can toss up whatever he ate. So we went outside.”

  “Oh.” Now his jersey made sense, and my heart instantly melted. “He threw up on you?”

  Joe nodded and blew out a mouthful of air. “Partially.”

/>   “I’ll get out of the tub so you can have a fresh bath,” I said, but I didn’t move. “I kind of need a larger towel before that can happen.”

  “Oh. Really? Because the bubbles are creating this lace thing on you that’s … ” He wiped his face with his hand and rubbed his chin. His face revealed a man carefully contemplating what to say next. “Hell, Janey, that’s the hottest thing I’ve seen.”

  My entire body flushed and the water suddenly seemed to get warmer. I tried to regain my composure. How much of me did he see? “Uh … does Sam need to go to the ER?”

  Joe grinned at my redirect. “No, luckily he only had a small bite before he realized there were nuts.”

  “I didn’t know he had an allergy. He probably should stay away from the fudge because it was next to the divinity.”

  Joe flung up his hands in a feigned gesture of exasperation. “Yes, my brilliant son thought he could wash the divinity down with a piece of fudge. So instead of just tossing up the divinity in the trash can, it was a lovely mixture of both.”

  “Oh, Joe.” My heart did a slow somersault. It seemed too soon to be swept up by emotions, but from the moment I first placed my hand in his, the attraction I felt for him was undeniable. It wasn’t just that he was easy on the eyes, which he was. Or that he was charming and captivating, also true. What really drew me to him was how he parented. He was one sexy single dad.

  “The hat looks better on you.” His voice awakened every cell in my body, including the neurons in my brain, which reminded me that this was still my boss.

  “Yeah, well, I think the hat is the only thing I haven’t ruined. It’s now official. I’m the worst Thanksgiving guest ever. My ex always said my cooking would kill him, but your son was never my intended target.” I raised my thumbs out of the water and gave two thumbs up “I’m a real crowd pleaser. A trifecta of awesomeness. Oh, and I’m sure I’ve caused the turkey to be overcooked.”

  Joe grabbed the hat off my head. “Oh crap! Not if I can help it.” He headed toward the door.

  “Towel!” I yelled. “I really need a towel.” I fished around the tub for the hand towel that had fallen into the water. Submerged in suds, it offered no coverage as it clung to, rather than concealed, my body.

  Joe turned and held up his hand. “Turkey, then towel. Give me five minutes.”

  I shrugged with a laugh. “Sure. I’m not going anywhere. This bathroom and I are becoming very well-acquainted.”

  He returned, as promised, with a fluffy, white towel. “Janey,” he said in a tender tone, “you’re not the worst Thanksgiving guest.” He placed the towel on the edge of the sink. “I know what that looks like, and you’re not even remotely like her. Besides,” he said with a wry grin, “look at it this way—what else could go wrong?”

  Chapter 9

  Joe pulled out my chair and smiled with his eyes. We were identically dressed in Wyoming brown and gold sweats and matching hoodies.

  “We look like a NASCAR couple,” he joked. “Except you make that look good.”

  Despite my appearance in his oversized sweats, the look on his face made me feel like Cinderella at the ball.

  Sam waited until I was seated at the table before he took his seat. Joe followed with a proud grin.

  “This looks amazing,” I said.

  The turkey had goldened to perfection. Baby potatoes, steamed carrots, and stuffing with a cranberry crust were perfectly arranged in serving bowls strategically placed on the table built for two. Individual wedge salads with bacon and blue cheese crumbles, which toppled down the sides, were stationed next to our water glasses. An empty wine glass waited for someone to pour the chilled bottle of wine. I caught a glimpse of the label. It was some German Riesling that released a woodsy flavor when Joe popped the cork.

  “While it breathes, would you join us in grace?” Joe’s hand reached for mine.

  Our fingers naturally interlaced.

  “Sam.” Joe nodded toward his son.

  “Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord. Amen.”

  Sam recited the prayer from my childhood and that of my children. With my head bowed, I said a quick prayer for my children and imagined their little faces. I swallowed hard, but the ache caught in my throat.

  Joe squeezed my hand. “I’m sure they’re having a great time.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to stop the tears that collected at the corners of my eyes.

  He tightened his hold on my hand. “The first year is always hard.”

  I flicked away a tear with my free hand and tried to shake off the lingering sadness that I had held at bay. “I’ll be okay,” I said. “It’s just weird what’ll get to me. Thank you for saying grace, Sam. That was beautiful.”

  The teen shrugged. “Just memorized it.”

  I smiled softly. “I know, but hearing you, it was just … ” I exhaled. “It made me think of my kids.”

  “One time I was driving past the baseball field to pick up Sam from practice,” Joe said and gently released my hand. He picked up the carving knife and began carefully cutting into the turkey. “I’ll never forget this. I saw a woman pushing a baby stroller on the sidewalk and I wept. Out of nowhere.”

  Sam and I both stared at Joe.

  “Why?” Sam asked.

  Joe placed a juicy slice of turkey on my plate before making eye contact with his son. “Failure.”

  It wasn’t the answer I expected to hear. “I don’t understand,” I said.

  He resumed carving the bird. “You’re supposed to get married and have kids and live happily ever after, then it ends ugly. That woman pushing the stroller had that idyllic life when mine had ended. She was innocently blissful and I was jaded.” Joe shook his head. “I was just another divorce statistic.”

  “Is that how you still see it?” I asked. Is that what happens?

  “No.” A smile formed on his face. “Now I see it for what it was all along.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Loss. It was the loss that made me cry. My marriage was over, and I knew I’d never have any more children. A woman would never be pushing a stroller toward my home.”

  “Oh, Dad.” Sam reached over and patted his father’s forearm. “At least you have me.”

  Joe and I both chuckled. “Yes,” Joe said. “I didn’t get the house or the car, but I got the better half of the deal—I got you.”

  I knew from our email exchanges that Joe and Sam lived together and had for the last couple years. I couldn’t imagine a mother walking away from her child, but Joe never explained and I knew better than to ask.

  “Did you get your kids in the divorce?” Sam asked. His voice was tentative.

  I nodded. “I did, and I think your dad and I have a lot in common. I walked away from the house, cars, boat—hell, even the horses—but none of that mattered.”

  “So why didn’t they come?” Sam asked.

  “Well, even though my twins live with me, I alternate the holidays with their dad. So John and Jessica are with their dad today.”

  “When do you get them back?”

  I placed a spoonful of carrots on my plate. “Tomorrow.” My spirits lifted at the thought. “So is it hard, sharing the holidays?”

  His shaggy hair moved back and forth as he shook his head. “Actually it’s pretty chill because I usually get two Thanksgiving dinners and two Christmases.”

  I chuckled. “I hadn’t thought about that. I thought it would be easier if one year they were with one parent for the entire day and then alternated the next year with the other parent, but … ” I deeply inhaled. “It sounded good in theory, when I divorced at the first of the year, because all the holidays had already passed. But in reality, it’s not so great.”

  “So you’ll be alone on Christmas?” Sam asked.

  “Sam.” Joe shook his head curtly.

  “It’s okay. Sam’s just asking the obvious follow-up question. You’ve got a great reporter
in the making,” I said. “Yup, this year I will be alone on Christmas.”

  Joe stopped carving the turkey. “And miss seeing my Christmas tree all grown up?”

  I giggled. “Your dad seems to think the tree he dug up on the mountain will be ready for a tree stand by December twenty-fourth.”

  Sam’s brown eyes weren’t like his father’s majestic blues, but they held the same current of energy. “I guess you won’t know unless you come back on Christmas Eve and join us.”

  Joe filled our wine glasses and then raised his in the air. “To reuniting on Christmas Eve.”

  “Here! Here!” Sam said and clinked his water glass against his father’s.

  Father and son looked at me.

  I held my glass toward theirs. “To another road trip.”

  Chapter 10

  “The dishes can wait.” Joe brushed his hand over my shoulder and a jolt of electricity coursed through my veins. He reached over me for the plates I had carefully stacked on the table and his breath was hot in my ear. “Besides,” he said in a voice that beckoned for the bedroom and not the kitchen. “Guests don’t do the dishes. That’s Junior’s job.”

  “So what did you have in mind?” I tried to maintain some semblance of balance, but this man made me swirl.

  Soft laugh lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. “You can’t come all the way to Casper and not see our beautiful city.” His gaze scanned me from head to foot. “You’re dressed for the weather so I thought we’d take a walk.”

  My smile was for him alone. “I’ll get my coat.”

  A swift Wyoming wind blew my hair against my wool cap and swept snow off the sidewalk, clearing a path for Joe and me. He reached for my hand and pointed with his other.