Christmas Proposal

by Loraine Mer

  If she'd decided to leave him, she must have had her own reasons. Even then, he planned to keep the promise he made her, of keeping the building for her and her children. After all, they took care of his children, before he learned they were his.

  Oscar's piercing cry brought him to reality. After a few more questions, the police left and he fed the baby.

  It was six in the morning when Oscar gave a final burp and settled in Armand's arms, cooing happily. “Come, little boy, let's go find your sister, shall we?"

  He left Oscar with Melanie and gave a lame excuse as to why Josephine wasn't with him. He didn't want to cope with so many inquiries. After all, he had a lot of things to do.

  * * * *

  Margaret opened the door, her kind face mirroring her shock. Josephine knew she must look a sight—her face pale and stained with dried tears, her mass of curls tousled and unkempt, and her skinny figure moving without grace. Still, Margaret opened her arms wide and Josephine ran into them, sobbing, her own arms locking around Margaret's neck.

  Moving from the doorway, Margaret closed the door behind them, Josephine stumbling with her toward the kitchen. She sat at one of the kitchen chairs while Margaret took the warm milk on the stove and made ginger tea.

  Josephine looked at the smooth surface of the wooden dining table. It brought back memories of a time long ago when she had felt the same emptiness inside her chest. Then, Margaret had told her to pour her heart out to her favorite item in the house. This same table had witnessed Josephine's tears and it had heard her talking to her long-gone parents.

  Josephine was roused from her memories when Margaret placed the cup with the hot beverage in front of her. She waited until the older woman was sitting across from her before blurting out, “I think I'm falling in love with him.” She felt Margaret start in surprise, but thankfully, she didn't say anything. Josephine's eyes focused on some point of the old table, but she wasn't seeing the brown surface. “I think it all started when I learned about him a month ago. It started with pity, then rage, not only at him but all the people around him. I learned so many things that were happening around him and he didn't know because he'd wrapped himself up in his shell due to his mourning. I felt rage at him for being so stubborn and came up with the perfect scheme to show him how bad things were. I think I started caring for him even then.” A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. “After being with him and seeing how he treated the children as his, my heart started beating faster. I wanted to be with them, and oh, help me, Margaret, I wanted it to be forever. I swore to never, ever fall in love. I didn't want children of my own and now this darn craving!” Her sobs grew with each word until they became unbearable.

  Margaret didn't say anything, for which Josephine was grateful. It was enough for her to be just there, to listen. Anyway, Josephine needed time to compose herself, to think over her words and to contemplate what to do with her future. After awhile, Margaret rose from her chair and cooked the cereal for the children.

  Blissful laughter drifted through the closed doors leading to the dining room. A moment later, it banged open. Frances, the newest employee, stormed into the room. “They're demanding food—sorry, I didn't know she's here again."

  Josephine looked up, and as always, Frances's eyes reflected jealousy. Frances had never liked her, though she didn't know why. On the other hand, Margaret had never liked Frances either, and the older woman was forever warning Josephine about Frances's black hair, the shadow in her eyes, and the fact that her vanilla skin always had some purple, yellow or green colored-bruise, depending on the healing stage. On the other hand, the wounds were what convinced Josephine to take Frances in as a part-time employee for the home.

  "Here's cream for the children. Serve it carefully since it's hot and I don't want any of them burned. Hear me?” Margaret handed the tray to the girl.

  "Yeah, heard ya.” Frances muttered. She moved unhurriedly toward the dining room, the hem of her jeans trailing behind her and mopping the floor in her wake.

  "I tell you again, I don't like her any!” Margaret told Josephine as she placed a plate of crackers in front of her. “And finish your tea, it doesn't taste any good cold and you know it. Afterward, go and rest before coming back to check on the children. They've been inquiring about you.” Margaret took out something from her pocket and pushed an envelope into Josephine's hands. “By the way, Harriet told me to give this to you.” She turned and, taking a tray, disappeared through the same doors the younger one had gone through earlier.

  Sighing, Josephine tore open the envelope and read the letter as she drank the ginger tea. She felt the warm sensation of the milk go down her throat and settle in her stomach. The empty feeling that had lodged in her stomach since she left Armand's house seemed to be permanent, even with the warm milk soothing it.

  Her eyes widened. This letter solved all the problems concerning Oscar and Clare. She should call Armand, but at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep. After what he'd done to her, he could wait.

  She clutched the letter in her hands as she moved toward her room. Earlier, she'd been so upset she left most of her clothes and shoes in Armand's house. She'd also left him the baby without a thought to his welfare. Guilty feelings crossed her mind, but the ginger tea lulled her. Entering her room, she dropped the letter on the table beside her bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

  * * * *

  Armand entered the fifth furniture shop, looking for the appropriate cradle. Still, he couldn't find one to his liking and his patience couldn't contemplate going into another shop. If he'd admit it to himself, what he hated more than anything else was seeing so many couples together. His mind kept thinking of having Josephine beside him. He really missed her and she hadn't been gone for more than two hours. He felt guilty at his last words, but the funny thing was, he couldn't recall what they were. He must have hurt her for her to leave like that, dressed only in her bathrobe and nothing else.

  He stopped in his tracks, shocked at the notion of her walking on the streets in those flimsy clothes. How could he have—? But he did, and it was all his fault.

  His vision clouded, and he started walking, pushing people in his haste. The valet couldn't give him his car fast enough, and he walked toward the taxi stand. He climbed inside the first one, and before the door was closed, he'd asked the driver to take him to the children's home. They reached there in record time. Peeling a few bills from his wallet, he said to the delighted old man, “Keep the change."

  He sprinted up the stairs to the home and rapped on the door. The old woman opened the door again, and not waiting for her to speak, he barged in and looked around, but he didn't see Josephine. He turned to the woman and clutched her by the shoulders. “Where is she? Is she here? Tell me she's okay. Please?” He released the woman's shoulders after noticing that he was shaking them so hard her teeth were rattling.

  "So you finally got your guts, huh?” she asked as a way of hello, taking his tall figure in. She didn't spare him, but looked at him from top head to bottom.

  "Well, I was kind of upset at the time and I didn't ... God!” He sank into the nearest chair, fingers combing through his hair in frustration. “I was a complete idiot and jerk and all the things that you want to call me. She has all the reasons to hate me."

  She stared at him for a long time, but he didn't flinch from her gaze. Finally, she smiled. “Her bedroom is the one at the end of the hall. Be sure none of the children see you.” She winked at him and smiled knowingly.

  His heart lightened. “Oh, thank you!"

  Once he got inside the dark bedroom and adjusted his eyes to the lack of light, he could make out the bundle on the bed. Her pale face was visible above the sheets, and her tiredness showed. He walked closer and noticed she was shaking. “Margaret, you can go. I'm okay now.” She mumbled, her eyes still closed.

  He stopped and didn't reply.

  "Margaret?” She yawned and opened her eyes. “Armand?” She sat up on th
e bed, evidently surprised to see him.

  "Jossie, I'm really sorry for acting like I did—"

  She got up from the bed, ran toward him and threw her arms around his neck. Confused, Armand hugged her back.

  "I've something to tell you. I read Rebecca's letter this morning,” she said against his neck. “It was a letter she'd written before she died, giving you full custody of the children. There were two birth certificates accompanying the letter. They state that you are their father."

  "Where did you get the letter?” He leaned away from her so he could look into her face.

  "It came together with the children. Harriet gave it to me that day we were here, but I told her to keep it, as it would be safer here. The letter also says that your brother was the one who signed on your behalf on the certificates. He used one of your ID's to do it, and I think he was able to get away with it, because both of you look very similar. Yesterday, when he was here and we entered, I would've thought he was you, if you were not with me. It's amazing."

  "Who else knows they're mine?” he asked, taking her harshly by the shoulders.

  "I don't know.” She shook her head, distraught. “The letter requested that I send the children to you and to give you the letter as well. If you hadn't received a similar letter, how did you know they were yours?"

  "Frank told me, during the meeting yesterday."

  She gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

  His lips twisted in a bitter grimace. “Yes, well, I was shocked too. The boy is not mine, really. He's Frank's. Still, when I saw Oscar, so fragile and in need, I understood Frank's reasons to want him safe, though I don't understand how he could've been unfaithful to Melanie. They look so happy together, but then, that is something I won't dare to ask. I'll raise Oscar as mine.” Wrapping his arms around Josephine, he hugged her. “Now, before I forget, you owe me one, young woman."

  She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “What do you mean?"

  He tucked some strands of hair behind her ear. “If I don't remember wrong, you agreed to be with me until Christmas Eve. Today is not Christmas, which is still about a month away, so I'll take you back to where you must be."

  Her left brow arched, questioning, her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. He laughed and hugged her, feeling something split inside of him.

  Wanting to kiss her, he reached for her, only to be interrupted by over five pairs of feet running in the hallway. They parted just in time, for barely a second later, the children burst in with joyous squeals and laughter and hugs.

  Armand could see that Josephine loved the attention but not the timing. Somehow, he was pleased with her reaction. However, she'd locked stares with a young woman who'd come with the children, though he couldn't understand why.

  A loud ‘bang’ from outside made them all jump. Surprised shrieks and then instant silence fell inside the room.

  "Wait here!” Armand commanded, even as he moved toward the source. As he passed beside the young woman, he noticed a scar on her forehead that ran down toward her left ear. The woman was looking at him, and something about her stare disturbed him. She was also vaguely familiar. Where had he seen her before? Dismissing the puzzle for the moment, he continued outside. Once he reached the living room, he found the cause.

  A piece of the wall had fallen in from outside the area connecting to the street. More likely someone must've broken it. Yes, someone in the form of a car, where the hood nosed into the room and its engines still roaring as if something was stuck on the gas pedal.

  He stilled. It was a clear signal that the attack was intentional.

  He went outside and noticed a lot of onlookers congregating around the car. He pushed his way to the driver's door and tried the handle. The door was mercifully unlocked. He slipped in and cut the engine.

  His jaw clenched and his face set, he left the car and moved a few feet away, cell phone in hand. He called several parties to make some necessary arrangements. Completing his calls, he returned and shouted, “Children, would you all like to go to the zoo?"

  All the children cheered and jumped in glee. Even the sour old woman, Margaret, smiled in indulgence at the children's antics. Armand bent in front of her and whispered in her ear, “I want that young woman, the one with the scar, out of here.” From Margaret's sudden smile, he could see that she was pleased with the idea. “There's something about her that I don't like. I also called the police, and they'll come to take photos and do some stuff. After they leave, call this number.” He passed her a business card with a handwritten number on it. “They'll come and repair the wall. When they're done, call me. That's my number on the card."

  Margaret took the card and nodded.

  Armand, Josephine and two employees hurried out with the children. By the time the children were marching out in two lines to the streets, a mini-van bearing the logo of Armand's company appeared in front of the building. They boarded the van, which took them to the zoo. The children were generally well-behaved and walked hand in hand through the zoo's paths, although they would run to lean over the fences or peer into the cages of the animals, laughing and pointing at them. They took a lot of pictures with the portable cameras bought at the entrance. It would seem that they'd never been to the zoo before.

  Armand looked at Josephine as she watched the giraffes. He saw that she was lost in the wonder of the animal as well, and that she sported the same glee as the children. It seemed she'd never come to the zoo before, funny as it may seem. As for him, his family would come very year when he was a child, and it came to a point when he wasn't looking forward to it anymore. For the first time in a long day, he noticed the clothes she'd thrown on. Nothing sexy, just a pink top stuck inside tight and worn blue jeans. She'd put on boots for more comfort, not knowing how much he liked the idea of a cowgirl riding him.

  A loud cry intruded on his erotic images, and he found one of the children sprawled on the ground. Josephine ran to the child and comforted him, wiping at his teary eyes. Armand knew then that his feelings were not only lust, but something else, something completely different, with feelings deeper than those he'd had for his first wife.

  He saw her picked up the little boy and cleaned his hands and face with a crumpled piece of napkin and knew that he wanted her to have a child with him, his child, their child. He had two actually, but he'd never seen their mother deal with them or take care of them, and he'd never seen the changes that made a woman even more sexy and her curves more pronounced with the simple action of carrying life inside of her. He swallowed, knowing he needed to act fast for his new goal of seduction.

  He kept glancing at her during their excursion. As soon as the clock struck twelve, they organized the children and took them to the adjoining fast-food place to have burgers and sodas. After eating, the children wanted to play, and so he allowed them a few hours to do so, as well to give the contractors more time to make the necessary repairs to the home.

  "Did you like the excursion?” Armand turned to Josephine, seeing her eyes lost in memories. From the whiteness of her face and her frown, he knew she wasn't reminiscing good things.

  She smiled, pleased. “Yes, I did. I'd never been to the zoo before. This is very nice of you, to suggest this trip.” She looked around and noticed the deserted tables around them for the first time.

  "As soon as I received the call that everything is repaired, we'll go back to the home and leave the children there. Then, we'll go shopping. I had a huge problem selecting a cradle for Oscar."

  "How come?” She looked puzzled. “That's the easiest thing to do. After all, it's not like you're selecting something for his whole life.” She joked, a twinkle in her eye.

  Armand, however, took her question seriously. “There is a wide variety of models, but nothing quite to my liking. I went to about five furniture houses, I think, without any success. And I want a bedroom set for Clare as well. I've decided to transform some of the rooms in the upper floor to their bedrooms and downstairs, I'll convert
a room for them to play in. I was thinking I'd also like to have another child,” he teased.

  She ignored his comment, restraining her thoughts from straying down that path. She also couldn't bear to think of him with another woman, much less envision what their children would look like. “Well, then we'll need a lot of time for shopping. How much time do you have for it?"

  "I'm not going to the office anymore, as I want to spend today with you. I'll just take care of office matters on Monday.” Taking her hand in his, he felt a burning sensation run through his body, not for the first time that day, and his senses expanded. Her feminine fragrance reached him when she got to her feet. It wasn't perfume or soap, but her natural essence.

  They played with the children for a full hour before being interrupted by the ringing of the cell phone. Margaret called him with news about her dismissal of Frances and the completion of the repairs. They arrived back at the home with a van full of sleepy and tired children.

  Chapter Eight

  They arrived at Armand's home at half past midnight after a whole afternoon of shopping and a special dinner. Armand, desperate to have her back in his arms, took her by the waist as soon as they entered the house and kissed her passionately. She responded fiercely to the kiss and started popping the buttons on his shirt when loud claps intruded their clouded minds. Armand quickly pushed Josephine behind him as he faced the source of the noise.

  He blinked on seeing Melanie and Frank seated on the couch. God, it was a testament to the state of his mind that he hadn't even noticed the lights were on when they first entered the house.

  "It's a good thing we still have that key you gave us, Armand, or we'd have been standing outside your gates the whole night.” Melanie smirked. “As it is, you still owe me one."

  "What are you doing here?” He was surprised to find his voice not quite steady.