by Janet Dailey
“So how do you usually do the decorating?” she asked.
“I get the bottom, Gramps does the middle, and Dad takes care of everything on the top. But he holds me up so I can put on the star,” Robbie explained.
“Count me out,” his grandfather said. “This year I’m going to be the consultant. Jacquie can do the middle.”
“What’s a consultant?” Robbie wanted to know.
“They tell everyone else what to do. And they get to sit down.” Sam dragged over a chair and eased himself into it. “You can begin, people.”
Choya made quick work of putting on the colored lights but it took two hours to decorate the whole tree. The weight of the ornaments leveled the branches, making the tree seem even larger. It filled the whole corner where it had been placed.
Robbie tired himself out with running back and forth, and he was rubbing his eyes when it was time to put on the star.
Choya hoisted the little boy up onto his shoulder and Jacquie handed him the star.
“Ready?” his father asked.
He nodded, and stretched out, sticking it on the topmost branch. It tipped and caught on the needles, crooked but not about to fall. Choya didn’t straighten it.
“We don’t light up the star until Christmas Eve,” Robbie explained to Jacquie. “So it doesn’t have to be perfect yet.” He slid down from his perch, aided by Choya, and took her hand and then his father’s, standing between them.
Sam, who hadn’t budged from the chair or said a word, put his hands together and applauded loudly. “That’s a fine sight,” his grandfather said to one and all. “Not one broken ornament this year. And that has to be the biggest damn tree in Arizona. Good work, everyone.”
Chapter 15
Christmas Eve was just days away and Robbie had the sniffles. Jacquie dreaded the prospect of coming down with a cold—they all might. So far she was feeling fine, and Sam and Choya didn’t seem to have caught it. She prayed for their luck to hold. And in the meantime, Robbie was making the most of being sick.
He’d taken over the sofa, dragging blankets to it to make a cocoon and piling the cushions with picture books he never got around to reading. His father wouldn’t let him watch TV all day and he complained about that. She took back her laptop and Robbie burrowed into the blankets, feeling sorry for himself.
Sam and Choya weren’t big on coddling children and it wasn’t like he’d come down with something serious. Both men had retreated and left her to deal with a kid who wasn’t well enough to go outside and run around, and wasn’t sick enough to go to the doctor.
There seemed to be a tacit agreement among the three adults to just let him have the sofa. They all had things to do.
Jacquie still hadn’t coordinated everything she needed to support her transfer application to the university in Tucson. It would be a good idea, she thought, to figure out the scheduling of the classes she wanted to take, now that she had a better idea of how long the drive there and back would be.
She rested her head in her hands, wishing she’d had the nerve to talk it over with Choya when they’d had time to themselves. She knew it was childish to keep postponing the difficult discussion. Their relationship was still new—and at the moment, seesawing between passion and distance. Living in the same house wasn’t helping with either. They couldn’t be lovers, not openly, until they’d decided to make a serious commitment. But they saw each other constantly, which didn’t give either of them a lot of breathing room.
The arrangement wasn’t anything like dating. And they had yet to talk about marriage, let alone an engagement. It had been kind of funny the way Choya had shown off those old shacks and hinted that he’d soon be rolling in money. She wanted to believe he was telling the truth, but she wondered now if he’d been teasing her, the way he had when he’d galloped out of sight to see if she could find him. The shopping trip to the mall to buy a twin-size comforter wasn’t a step in the right direction.
She sat up, and tapped the button that turned on her laptop, looking absently at the white screen and the tiny spinning wheel in the center of it. The connection was slow today.
Jacquie leaned back, her arms in the air, and stretched out her shoulders. The wheel spun. She mulled over the situation as she waited.
Was he going to be upset if she went off to classes in Tucson? She would be living here on the ranch—just not all the time. Choya couldn’t leave his family the way she had. He had no one to take care of Robbie besides Sam, and it was clear enough that his father would soon need some help with that.
She snapped out of her reverie when the screen filled with color and the usual icons appeared. Then a cartoon candy bar floated across the screen. What the . . . oh no, she said to herself. Robbie had downloaded something, despite her specifically telling him not to. It was a game or an interactive ad. She clicked on the candy bar when it stopped for a second and CandyDandy opened up.
Before the colorful graphics really got going, she clicked out to follow his trail. Jacquie sighed with irritation. He’d downloaded the whole game, not just the cute little introductory app, and installed it on her hard drive.
“Robbie!” she called, exasperated.
She heard a mumbled “What?” from the living room.
“You get in here right now.”
She waited a few minutes until he appeared, wearing pajamas and dragging a blanket. His sullen expression and flushed face told her he’d been cocooned too long.
“I told you not to download anything onto my laptop.” She clicked a button and pointed at the screen. More floating candy bars appeared.
“It’s only a game,” he said in a small voice.
“Did your grandpa know you did that?”
“No,” he muttered. “He was making me lunch.”
She couldn’t fault Sam. But she was really annoyed with Robbie. “That’s it. You just lost your laptop privileges. Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
“I don’t feel good.” Robbie stood there.
“You’re not that sick. Do what I told you and sit down. It’s going to take me a while to get that game off my hard drive and make sure you didn’t put it in a folder or someplace else.”
“I don’t know how to do that. It downloaded itself anyway.”
Jacquie’s fingers clicked firmly over the keys. “No, it didn’t, Robbie. Don’t lie.”
He took two steps back and suddenly yelled, “I don’t like you anymore! You’re not my mother!”
She opened her mouth in surprise but he was gone. The corner of the blanket he dragged caught on the door frame until he yanked it loose and disappeared.
Jacquie stopped typing and listened. No sound came from the living room, not even a muffled sob. He had to be expecting her to come in there and yell back.
She wasn’t going to. Jacquie rubbed her pounding temples. Arguing with a seven-year-old was an exercise in futility. And he was right about her not being his mother. Right at the moment, she wished his father would step in, but Choya, as far as she knew, was out in the barn doing something that was more important. To him.
The screen flickered as the delete commands took effect and the game was removed from her hard drive. It was only a game, she reminded herself. Not some great big deal. But she still felt angry about Robbie’s disobedience.
She considered going out to the barn to find Choya but decided against it. She could tell him later, when she was calmer. Jacquie really didn’t want to sound more childish than Robbie, even though right was on her side. And she had no idea how Choya would take it. If he came down hard on his son, with Christmas so close, the whole holiday could be ruined.
She set the laptop to standby mode, leaving aside the task of scheduling her classes. Jacquie was inclined to call in an expert. She picked up the phone and dialed her parents’ number, relieved when her mother answered.
“Hi, honey! I was just packing for Galveston—it’s so nice to hear from you.”
Jacquie knew her mother meant “we” and
not “I.” She could imagine the two suitcases on the bed, one for her father and one for her mother, carefully filled with folded, ironed clothes.
“I’m ready to take a break,” her mother was saying. “So what’s up? Are you ready for Christmas?”
“We got the tree up and decorated it,” Jacquie began.
“That’s wonderful. Did you take pictures?”
“Not yet, Mom. I will.”
Maureen’s charming laugh filled the air. “You left your digital camera here, you know. Do you mind if I take it to Galveston?”
“Go ahead. I can always get one of those tourist cameras at a Tombstone store.” She fell silent.
“Okay,” her mother said soothingly. “What’s wrong? I hope you’re not homesick.”
Thoughts of the Dallas house at Christmastime had crossed her mind, but only fleetingly. “No,” she answered honestly.
“Well, good. I have to tell you, your dad and I are pretty happy to be going to Galveston for a change. The holidays can be overwhelming.”
“It’s not that. It’s Robbie,” Jacquie said quietly.
“Oh, Choya’s little boy,” her mother said. “Is he all right?”
“Basically, yes—I mean, he has a not-too-serious case of the sniffles. No biggie. But he just got angry with me and stormed off.”
“Why?”
“I told him not to download a game or anything else on my laptop and he did, when I was in Tucson with Choya. Then he lied about it.”
Her mother’s disembodied voice hesitated. “That wasn’t right and I’m sure you were upset. But kids will do things like that. He admires you so much and I bet he was thrilled that you let him use your laptop. He just didn’t think about the consequences.”
Jacquie cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder, listening and looking into the living room. There was only silence. A small foot twitched at the edge of the blanket. Shaking her head, she went back to the kitchen. “Well, he’s thinking about them now.”
“What did Choya say?”
“He doesn’t know yet. It just happened.”
“I see.” Jacquie heard vague sounds on the other end of the call. A closet door being opened, a muffled flop of more clothes landing on the bed—she’d watched her mother pack so many times, she felt she was observing the process now. “Honey, did you say Robbie had sniffles?”
“Yes. Nothing dire. He doesn’t have a fever.”
“Well, you’d still better keep an eye on him. Colds and flu can start slowly. And by the way, either one will make a child very irritable at first. They can behave so differently you almost don’t recognize them.”
Jacquie could vouch for that. In one afternoon, Robbie had gone from her biggest fan to being a total brat. She was glad to hear confirmation of that—but her mother still didn’t know everything. She took a deep breath and got to the point. “Mom, it wasn’t the game or that he disobeyed me or even that he could be coming down with something worse than sniffles.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I made it clear that I was annoyed, and he yelled that he didn’t like me anymore. And that I wasn’t his mother.”
“Oh dear.” Maureen stopped what she was doing and sat down with a sigh. “The honeymoon is over. That was bound to happen.”
“What?” For a second, Jacquie misunderstood.
“I didn’t mean you and Choya, dear. Goodness, your father would hit the roof if he heard you’d gotten married. He and I sincerely hope you’ll take your time before you take that step. No, I was talking about Choya’s little boy and you.”
Jacquie sat down herself. “I’m listening.”
“Honey, it’s only natural that he thinks of you as his mother. You told me how attached he was to you. And vice versa.” Maureen stopped for a few moments to think. “He’s been trying so hard to be good—almost too good. Sounds to me like he’s having an awful day and he did something wrong and he said the worst thing he could think of. In a funny way, it’s not that bad. He trusted you enough to yell at you.”
“Food for thought,” Jacquie said wryly.
“Of course there should be consequences for what he did, but you can figure that out with his father. How is Choya, by the way?”
“He’s fine.”
“Not in the room with you, I take it.”
Jacquie smiled. Her mother was a smart cookie. “Not even in the house.”
“So you’re coping with a cranky kid who decided to be naughty, and you’re on your own.”
“That about sums it up. I’m not sure if I should tell Choya, though. I don’t want this to ruin Christmas.”
“Tell him,” her mother said firmly. “Just do it when you aren’t upset.” She paused for a second. “You know, I never did get the whole story on his family and we haven’t talked much since you went back to Arizona with him. Does Choya’s mother live near you?”
“Ah”—Jacquie didn’t want to get into all the complicated details—“Choya doesn’t know her at all. Sam Barnett adopted him as a single parent when he was a baby.”
“Oh my.” Maureen gave a heartfelt sigh. “That’s a sad story. But hooray for Sam. It’s not easy raising a child alone. I’m sure Choya doesn’t want to.”
Jacquie felt tears well suddenly at the back of her eyes. She blinked them fiercely away.
“Honey? You still on?”
“Yes,” she answered in a choked voice. “I know he wants more for Robbie than Sam was able to give him. But what if I’m not sure I want to be a stepmother?”
“Oh . . . I feel so badly that I’m not there to hug you and sit with you—do you want to come home?” Maureen asked. “We could cancel the Galveston trip.”
Amazed that she didn’t want that, not at all, Jacquie whispered, “No. I want to stay here.”
“Are you sure?”
She scrubbed away the stinging wetness. “Actually . . . yes. Talking to you helped. I’m sorry I got emotional.” She heard the front door open and close. “I have to go.”
“You hang in there, honey. Just remember, you can call me anytime, day or night.”
“I know.”
Maureen seemed about to end the call, then rushed to add a little more. “Oh, and check Robbie for fever. If his forehead is cool to the touch, he probably doesn’t have one, but if he feels hot, you should use a thermometer—those digital ones work pretty well.”
“I’ll check. And I’ll call you back. Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you too, baby. Bye for now.”
Choya came into the kitchen. His jacket was off but he radiated the coldness of outdoors. The fresh smell of hay clung to his clothes. “All right. Did the walkthrough. Two stalls—didn’t take me long,” he said in a joking tone. “How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. Packing for their trip. I didn’t talk to my dad.”
He leaned into the refrigerator and took out an empty aluminum pie plate that had held a store-bought pie. “Fee-fie-fo-fum. Someone else ate every crumb,” he said with amused annoyance. “I wish Robbie wouldn’t put empty containers back.”
“He hasn’t been behaving too well. My mother said to check his temperature.”
“Good idea. I’m glad you called her. Want me to do it?”
“No, I can. You eat.” Jacquie got up as he put together a half-sandwich from leftovers and brought it to the table, pulling out a chair.
“I assume your mother gave you detailed instructions.”
She managed a smile. “More or less. Be right back.”
The living room was still dark and the boy under the blankets didn’t seem to have moved. She lifted the blanket and saw his peaceful, sleeping face, feeling a rush of tenderness as she placed a hand on his forehead. It was cool. His breathing was no longer congested and he hadn’t broken out in a sweat.
Jacquie felt a deep relief. He was okay. She and Choya could take turns checking on him. And they could talk about the laptop some other time. The brief storm had passed for now.
She heard the phone ring as she walked back to the kitchen. Choya was quick to answer it. “Hello, Mrs. Grey. It’s nice to talk to you. Okay, Maureen it is—just trying to be respectful,” he laughed. “I assume you want Jacquie. She’s right here.” He handed the receiver to her.
“I knew you wouldn’t wait for me to call you back,” Jacquie said with faint amusement. “I did what you said. He doesn’t have a fever and he’s sound asleep. Yes. I’ll call you if anything changes. Thanks, Mom.”
“Tell her I said thank you too,” Choya demanded in a low voice.
Jacquie relayed the message and listened with surprise to her mother’s next words.
“Honey, I forgot to tell you that your father received the financial aid application. He’s filling it out—you know how he is with dotting each ‘i’ and crossing every ‘t.’”
“Yes I do.”
“Cam said to tell you he’ll have it back to you before the first of January. He’s very pleased you want to go back to college, Jacquie. That was about the best Christmas present you could have given him.”
“Glad to hear it, Mom. Okay, talk to you soon. Have a great time in Galveston.” They exchanged a little more small talk and then said good-bye. Jacquie slowly hung up the receiver. “I sent my father the financial aid form for the Tucson tuition. Apparently he’s filling it out.”
Choya finished the last of his sandwich. “I sort of gathered that you’ve been working on that and the application. How come you never talk about it?”
She sat down and slouched over her folded arms, resting her head on them but looking at him. “I don’t want to. Choya, I’d forgotten how complicated they were. The personal information, the reasons I want to transfer, the essay—I haven’t even started writing that.”
“Got a topic?”
She smiled slightly but didn’t raise her head. “As of today, yes. How One Peanut-Butter-and-Jelly Sandwich Can Change Your Life.”
He raised a dark eyebrow. “Come again?”
“I was thinking of writing about what it was like the first time I made one for Robbie. And why.”
