The Giving Season

by Rebecca Brock

  Jessy shook her head in frustration as Ben and Marie led her up the stairs. Why did high-maintenance women like Ann always end up with all the men? Sometimes it seemed like a man wouldn’t be interested in a woman unless she was difficult and touchy and bitchy to the extreme. Nice girls not only finished last, they rarely even got into the race. And if the nice girl happened to be fat—forget about it.

  As they walked past Libby’s door, Jessy wondered how long Ann had been nagging the poor girl to lose weight. She knew how painful it could be to feel so different, excluded from the rest of the world for the simple sin of being overweight. She remembered all too clearly how much it hurt to want to be like everybody else, even though she knew she’d never truly be accepted on their terms.

  Ann was wrong; Jessy knew Libby quite well. In some ways she probably understood the girl better than Ann ever could.

  “Come on, Jessy,” Ben gave her hand a tug. “I wanna show you how Miss Purty plays in her wheel.”

  Jessy smiled and knelt again, brushing a lock of blond hair from Ben’s brow.

  “How about,” she said and playfully swung his hands at his sides, “you go make sure Miss Purty is ready to meet me, and I’ll come visit her in a few minutes, okay?”

  “Okay—but don’t be too long or else she might get sleepy. It’s almost her bedtime.”

  “And she gets grouchy when she stays up too late,” Marie said gravely.

  Jessy nodded, matching their serious tone even as she bit back a smile. “Then I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

  Satisfied, Ben and Marie smiled and ran down the hallway, racing to their shared bedroom. Alone in the hall, Jessy took a deep breath and knocked on Libby’s door. Maybe she was intruding in matters that were none of her business, but—

  But the hell with it. Libby needed a friend right now, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

  “Libby? Can I come in?”

  Silence, then padded footsteps and the click of a lock. Jessy took that as an invitation. When she opened the door, Libby was sitting on the edge of her bed, a huge purple teddy bear in her arms. Her eyes were still red, her cheeks still wet. On the bed was a crumpled bag of potato chips.

  “Hi,” Jessy said softly, remaining in the doorway. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fat and ugly,” Libby muttered. “I’m just fine.”

  Uh-oh, Jessy thought, this is gonna be fun. She eased into the room, gingerly perching on the edge of the bed beside Libby. Nothing was said, so Jessy assumed her presence wasn’t totally unwanted. So far, so good.

  “So are you gonna tell me how my mom’s really worried about me and just wants me to lose weight so I’ll be happy?” Libby grimaced as she spoke, rolling her eyes in the way that only adolescents can. “Because if you are—”

  “I think your mom was wrong,” Jessy said quietly, turning her head just in time to catch Libby’s look of surprise. “I mean, I’m sure she’s worried about you, but that’s not the right way to show it. I don’t think she was thinking of your feelings.”

  Libby said nothing, just staring at Jessy like she was a Martian fresh off the mothership. Jessy felt a twinge of self-consciousness— after all, she’d just met the girl a few hours before; what right did she have to give her opinion of the situation?—but she forced it away. Michael had been right; if they weren’t excruciatingly careful, Libby could very easily become bulimic or anorexic—and being slim just wasn’t worth it.

  “Why are you here?” Libby finally asked.

  “Your dad felt sorry for me, I guess.” Jessy managed a faint smile. “I bet he takes in a lot of strays, huh?”

  Libby smiled slightly. “Usually he restrains himself to cats and dogs, but I guess he figured you were already housebroken.”

  Sharp, Jessy thought as she laughed. The kid’s got a good sense of humor. Maybe she’d be okay after all.

  “Mom’s just being Mom,” Libby said, folding her legs beneath her as she snuggled the teddy bear closer. “She’s gorgeous so she thinks I should be too. I think I’m just kind of a disappointment to her. She wanted a cheerleader for a daughter—but she got me instead.”

  “So what do you do when she says stuff like that?”

  “Usually I just come up here and sit by myself for a while.”

  Libby looked over to the empty potato chip bag and blushed. “And sometimes I eat.”

  Jessy nodded, remembering her own experiences. “I used to go to my room, crawl into bed with a bunch of comic books, and eat candy until my stomach hurt.”

  Libby laughed softly. “I’ve got MTV and potato chips.”

  They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Jessy felt as if they’d reached a turning point; nothing had been said outright, but she was fairly sure that Libby wasn’t thinking of her as the enemy anymore. Problem was, she wasn’t exactly a friend yet either.

  “So do you like my dad?”

  Libby’s question caught Jessy off guard. “Well—sure. I mean, he’s a nice guy.”

  “But do you like him, like him?”

  There was no hint of anger or accusation in Libby’s tone—only friendliness and genuine curiosity. Jessy was glad that Libby wasn’t dwelling on Ann’s appalling behavior, but this twist in the conversation wasn’t exactly what she was hoping to discuss. She had no idea how she could tell Michael’s daughter that yes, she really liked her father, and that yes, it was developing into a full-blown crush. She felt like she’d been thrown headfirst into a minefield.

  “I—” Jessy took a deep breath and sighed, still smiling. “To be honest, Libby, I don’t know what I think right now.”

  “A lot of women like my dad,” Libby said, drawing her knees up to her chin. “They’re all the time bugging him for dates and stuff, but he always tells them no. I used to think it was because he was still in love with Mom.”

  Jessy couldn’t quite understand why, but her heart suddenly twisted at the thought. It was one thing to know that Michael had loved Ann before—but to think that he might still love her, even knowing what she’s really like—

  “What about now?” Jessy asked, voice soft. “Do you still think that?”

  Libby shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. When I was younger, I used to hope that they’d stop being stupid and get married again. I mean, I love Dad and everything, but I miss having Mom around. Especially now.”

  A sudden wave of empathy nearly brought tears to Jessy’s eyes. She knew all too well what it was like to grow up without a mother, unable to talk to anyone about all the hopes, all the fears, all the questions she’d had when she was Libby’s age. But at least Libby still had her mother. And Ann, however flawed, was the only mother Libby would ever have.

  Jessy suddenly felt like an unwanted intruder in not just Michael’s life, but in Libby’s and Ben’s and Marie’s as well.

  “Well,” Jessy finally said, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction, “is there anything maybe I could help you with? Anything you want to talk about?”

  Libby sighed. “Just Tommy, but he’s a jerk. I don’t know why I even liked him in the first place.”

  “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

  “Yeah, but he just says that boys my age are immature and don’t know a good thing when they see it.” Libby sighed again, shaking her head. “I think Dad just wants me to feel better. Guys don’t like me because I’m too fat.”

  Jessy studied Libby for a few moments. Already pretty, Libby was well on her way to being beautiful; she had a maturity and intelligence that went far beyond her years. Boys were probably intimidated by her, but Jessy didn’t share that opinion with Libby. That’s the last thing a ten-year-old girl wanted to hear.

  “Sometimes boys can be weird,” Jessy finally said, slowly smiling. “They think they have to be cool and have all the right clothes and the right shoes and the right girlfriends. A lot of them are afraid to think for themselves, so they figure it’s just easier to do what everybody else does.”

&nb
sp; Libby nodded, cuddling her teddy bear closer. “Tommy used to talk to me all the time. He liked my jokes. He broke up with his girlfriend last week and I thought for sure he’d ask me to the dance, but—”

  “But he asked the other girl instead,” Jessy said softly. “It’s happened to me, too.”

  “Does it ever get better?”

  Libby looked so sad, so defeated, that Jessy couldn’t tell her how she truly felt, that no, it didn’t get better; if anything guys got even worse as they got older. But a little white lie wouldn’t hurt anything—and besides, Libby was too young to be so cynical.

  “Yeah,” she said and smiled. “It gets better.”

  “Jessy?” Ben stuck his head into the room. “Miss Purty’s ready for you to visit.”

  “Oh, God,” Libby said and groaned. “Ben and his rodent.”

  “I’ll be right there, okay?” Jessy’s smile widened as Ben ducked out of the doorway and disappeared into the hallway again. She turned back to Libby. “I’d better go see Miss Purty before she falls asleep,” she said and stood. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Libby sighed and nodded as she flopped bonelessly into the pillows. “Boys are just stupid—except for my dad.”

  Jessy smiled slightly. “Your dad’s an exceptional guy.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend, Jessy?”

  Libby’s sudden question stopped Jessy short as she headed for the bedroom door. She turned and smiled and hoped that Libby couldn’t see through it. “I don’t, um—I mean, no—no, I don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Good question.” Jessy laughed quietly, hoping it covered her discomfort. She didn’t want to ruin the tentative friendship they’d begun. “Think it’ll snow again tonight?”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “And you’re absolutely right.” Jessy smiled as she walked toward the open door. “I’ll be just down the hall if you want to talk some more, okay?”

  Libby nodded. “Okay—and Jessy?”

  Jessy paused at the door. “Hmm?”

  “Thanks for, you know—talking and stuff. I’m sorry if I gave you a hard time earlier. I didn’t really mean it.”

  “I had a feeling you didn’t.” Jessy winked and smiled again, closing the door behind her as she headed down the hall toward Ben and Marie’s room.

  And there was Ann. Waiting to pounce.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “I’d like a word with you,” Ann said quietly, taking a step forward as her eyes narrowed. Jessy suddenly felt like a mouse cornered by a huge, hungry cat.

  “Fine.” Jessy folded her arms across her chest, ready for anything.

  “What do you want?”

  Jessy couldn’t help but to smile with confusion. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. What do you want? Michael doesn’t have any money, so you might as well not even bother.”

  “I don’t want anyone’s money, and I don’t appreciate your question.” Jessy drew herself up taller, fighting to control her rising anger. “Michael invited me to spend Christmas with him and his family. I accepted. That’s it.”

  “And why would he do something like that?” Ann looked Jessy up and down and shook her head. “Obviously he’s not doing it to sleep with you.”

  That’s it. Jessy’s anger boiled over. “Listen—”

  “If he thinks you’re going to make me jealous—” Ann laughed softly and shook her head.

  “I think that’s enough.” Jessy took a step forward, but Ann blocked her way again.

  “Listen, just because you managed to hustle my husband and kids into trusting you, that doesn’t mean I buy into your Little Miss Innocent act.”

  Jessy smiled tightly. “There’s pretty much no chance that you and I are going to get along, is there?”

  “Just like there’s no chance I’m going to let you move in on my family.”

  “I’m not ‘moving in’ on anybody.” Jessy spoke slowly and deliberately, as if explaining to a child. “Michael is helping me—”

  Ann snorted. “I’ll just bet he is. He just loves his charity work.”

  Taken aback, Jessy hesitated before speaking, afraid she’d say something she’d later regret if she allowed her mouth free reign. Instead, she bit her tongue and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to take the bait. Absolutely not.

  “You should know that Michael and I still have a relationship,” Ann said and smiled. “When I come home to see the kids, it’s like I never left. The only thing that’s changed is our marital status.”

  “Then why did you divorce him?” The question popped out before Jessy could catch herself.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “I have nothing else to say to you,” Jessy finally murmured, turning to walk away. That was one thing Aunt Amelia had taught her well—if you can’t keep your temper, leave.

  “Well, I have something else to say to you.” Ann caught up with Jessy, smug satisfaction in her eyes. “Michael is my husband. He is the father of my children. I might not be here twenty-four hours a day, but when I come home, they are my family. Mine.”

  “You mean when it’s convenient for you to be a wife and mother,” Jessy said.

  “You’re not going to ruin this for me.”

  Jessy studied her for a moment. Ann was unquestionably beautiful, undeniably perfect, but there was a tone of desperation in her voice that she could not hide. She was afraid. The life she had so selfishly crafted to suit her own needs was threatened, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  “You’re right,” Jessy finally said, smiling faintly. “I’m not.”

  With that, Jessy finally stepped around Ann and made it into the guest bedroom, barely managing not to slam the door behind her.

  “I like her.”

  Michael cocked an eyebrow as he turned toward Lyssa and slung a dishtowel over his shoulder. He’d had a feeling his mother was just biding her time before sharing her opinion; he just hadn’t expected it to be while they were doing the dishes. “Say again?”

  Lyssa glanced up to Michael and smiled as she scrubbed a frying pan. “I said I like her. The kids like her, too.”

  “Oh, I get it,” Michael grinned as he dried another dish and set it into the rack. “You’re trying, in your none-too-subtle way, to find out my intentions with Jessy.”

  “Well,” Lyssa’s smile slanted. “If you have to put it that way—”

  “Okay, okay.” Michael dried the last dish and leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. Lyssa rinsed the last pan and then mirrored his posture, leaning against the sink, an eyebrow arching as she waited for him to continue. He cleared his throat and shrugged. “I think Jessy is—great.”

  “Great,” Lyssa said dryly. “My son the poet.”

  “Well come on, Mom—what do you want me to say?” Michael’s smile faltered as he shook his head, keeping his gaze averted as he idly tossed silverware into a drawer. “I like Jessy. I think she’s funny and smart and wonderful and—”

  “And—?”

  “And I like her. I really like her.”

  “Could this ‘like’ possibly ever turn into, oh, I don’t know— love?”

  Michael’s eyes widened. “Hello—where’d that come from?”

  “It’s a perfectly legitimate question.” Lyssa’s eyes twinkled as she studied her son. “I give you my full blessing. I can tell you already that I wouldn’t mind Jessy as a daughter-in-law—and I can just imagine the babies you two would have.”

  “Mom!" I barely know her.”

  Lyssa chuckled and strolled up to Michael, reaching up to smooth down his hair. Michael couldn’t help but smile back at her. Once again, his mother knew his mind and heart better than he did.

  “Okay, okay—I won’t push.” Lyssa’s smile softened as she stroked Michael’s cheek, her palm tissue-soft against his skin. “But I will give you one little piece of advice.”

  Michael nodded, knowing it would do no good to
argue. “All right—one small piece.”

  “If you think Jessy is someone you could grow to care about,” Lyssa said softly, “then don’t let her get away.”

  “It’s more complicated than that, Mom.”

  “No, it’s not. Not if you don’t want it to be. I’m not saying you should go upstairs and propose to her right this second. I just want you to—I don’t know—just think about it. Think about her.”

  “Mom, I really do like Jessy, but we barely know each other. You barely know her.” Michael could feel his cheeks growing warm. “Besides that, I’m not ready to get involved with anybody yet. Not even someone like Jessy.”

  “Oh, honey. I know Ann hurt you—”

  Michael snorted and rolled his eyes. “Hurt” was a polite word for what she did—if one could classify having one’s heart ripped out and shredded as being merely “hurt.”

  “But you have got to stop comparing every woman you meet to Ann,” Lyssa grinned. “Not every woman is going to be a selfish harpy hellbent on destroying your life and making you miserable.”

  Michael had to smile. “I get your point.”

  “Hmm-hmm.” Lyssa raised an eyebrow and nodded, and Michael knew she wasn’t in the least bit convinced. “Just think about something for me, will you?”

  “Anything.”

  “Just think about how much better you’ve felt since you met Jessy. And don’t you even try to deny it, Michael. I saw how you were acting tonight at dinner. I don’t know when I’ve seen you smile as much.”

  Michael fought the urge to smile again. He honestly had no intention of falling in love with her. No. Nope. Absolutely not. He liked her. He thought she was a great friend and a wonderful person—but he wasn’t falling for her. No matter how much he smiled when he was with her, no matter how much his kids liked her, he wasn’t going to go through that whole song and dance again.

  “C’mere, you.” Lyssa wrapped her arms around Michael’s waist, drawing him in for a hug. Michael closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her soft silver hair, holding her tight. When had she gotten so small? he wondered. It was a frightening thing to see her age, to watch the young woman he remembered grow so lined and weary. She was a walking reminder that nothing stayed the same, that everything had to change. And that time could pass too quickly when you weren’t looking.